#Jewellery display stand

[rajbhai12333]

[sansaorgana]

— FORBIDDEN FRUIT

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Baron Vladimir Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — After your planet was conquered by The Harkonnens, you are sent to Giedi Prime as a war prize to marry one of The Baron's nephews. However, Baron Vladimir changes his plans at the sight of you and decides to take you as his wife. Feyd-Rautha does not give up easily, though.

REQUEST — (1) // (2)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It's finally here! I got carried away, not gonna lie... Look at the word count! 🙈 I might have forgotten about some warnings, just keep in mind the fic is dark and twisted 😝 By creating the Reader's homeworld and its customs I was loosely inspired by the mediterranean and islamic cultures but of course her physical appearance is not being described. 🤍

WARNINGS — arranged/forced marriage, blood, death, Baron Harkonnen being an absolute and non-consensual creep, Feyd-Rautha being non-consensual as well in the beginning, SMUT, fingering, oral, breeding (artificial and natural), incest undertones (they're not related but he calls her Aunt and she calls him nephew) + Feyd's traumatic past briefly mentioned, Reader is a few years older than Feyd but he is aged up to 20

WORD COUNT — 13,560 (🤡)

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Your homeworld used to be a Paradise. The sky was always blue, the weather warm but not too hot due to the light breeze coming from the Ocean. Cypress trees, pistachio nuts, olive branches and fish were what Pairi Daêza was famous for in the past centuries. It was a small planet that remained unnoticed and neutral in most of the conflicts. The Imperial Family loved to spend their holidays on Pairi Daêza and import their goods in a form of a tribute.

That was history. And although you were born on this beautiful planet, in your teenage years the whole world crumbled down and you were exposed to the true reality of the war. When one of the Imperial geologists had found a huge spice deposit under your planet’s Ocean, the destructive war began.

Your parents tried their best to avoid the conflict. They offered the Emperor to dry a huge part of the Ocean to harvest spice from there. In fact, your father the Sultan saw an opportunity of getting wealth and influence in this situation. And that probably was his downfall. The Emperor wanted all the spice for himself.

But The Emperor was not the one to get his hands dirty. No, he hired the most fearsome warriors and assassins to teach your planet a lesson. The Harkonnens.

While the battles were taking place on the ground, their special machinery was drying out the Ocean and harvesting the spice hidden underneath the water surface. The whole planet began to die off due to the lack of water. The crops were evaporating in the heat, people were starving and their homes destroyed. The Harkonnens were kidnapping your citizens to be their slaves and your father and his army were too weak to protect them. The subjects of the Sultan started a rebellion with the help of The Harkonnens and after long years of the ongoing and destructive war, it was the final blow for your father’s weak reign.

You were an adult woman now, standing proudly with a veil covering nearly your whole face with only eyes being on display like all unmarried women of Pairi Daêza traditionally wore. Surrounded from all sides by The Harkonnen army in your father’s throne room, holding your mother’s hand. The dignified and beautiful Sultana with the last piece of jewellery she had refused to give away – a majestic headpiece made of gold and sparkling gemstones of all the possible colours. They reflected the dim light creeping inside through the windows of the ruined Pairi Daêza Palace where you had been born and resided for your whole life. And where you would die with only a few the most loyal guards protecting you.

The front doors opened loudly and a huge, beastly looking Harkonnen man stormed inside with a few of his identical soldiers. You had heard of him, he was the terror of Pairi Daêza in the past few years. The Beast Rabban himself. He dealt with your guards completely on his own, feasting on their deaths with a psychotic smirk. You swallowed thickly at the size of his hands; so big and strong they could break you in half. You hoped for a swift and quick death – as a Shehzadi of Pairi Daêza you had your privileges and you counted that the mercy of Beast Rabban would be one of them.

He started to approach you confidently, his black armour stained with the blood of your guards, contrasting with his sickly pale skin. Your father stepped out to cover you and your mother with his own body as if it would stop the Beast. Rabban froze at the sight and let out a contemptuous laughter that echoed through the throne room.

“Your reign is over, Sultan (Y/L/N),” he announced. “Pairi Daêza and its spice is under The Harkonnen rule.”

“Pairi Daêza no longer exists. You have destroyed my world and you want to rule over the ruins,” your father drawled through the gritted teeth.

“We do not care about your world. We care about the spice. But you… You will be remembered as the Sultan whose reign was the last. The death of your world will forever be attached to your name,” Rabban pointed out and reached for his blade. “Come to me and fight like a man, I shall give you the privilege of defending yourself. Do not cling to the skirts of your wife and daughter. By doing so, you put them in the path of my blade.”

“Don’t hurt them,” your father approached him, despite your hands trying to stop him. “The planet and the spice are yours. You can kill me but spare my family,” he pleaded.

“Your wife will be given to the new Governor of Pairi Daêza and he will do as he pleases with her. Your daughter is our prize I will take with me to Giedi Prime,” Rabban laid his terrifying eyes on you and you froze out of fear. You’d rather die than be taken away to The Harkonnens. He could only see your eyes but it was enough for him to smirk and lick his lips in a disgusting manner.

This scenario was worse than the death you had been expecting.

“You will die,” he told your father and pointed at one of the deceased guards for your father to take his sword and be able to defend himself in a fair fight.

But you knew already it would be a slaughter you did not wish to see.

“Don’t kill him! Don’t kill my father!” You screamed and took a step ahead. Your mother sobbed behind your back.

“(Y/N), don’t…” your father shook his head.

“I will offer myself to you willingly if you spare his life and let him govern this planet in The Harkonnen name. He will obey your orders and so will I,” you promised.

It was common for parents to sacrifice themselves for their children. No one would ever question such an act. Why couldn’t it go both ways? You loved your parents just as much as they loved you. Especially in the last years of the war, you had grown very close having basically no one else by your side.

If you were all to die together, it was not a bad ending. But if they tried to kill your father, send you away and give your mother away to a stranger… you could not let that happen.

“What makes you think we care about women giving themselves to us willingly, Shehzadi?” Rabban snorted at you but he approached you slowly with his blade held up. “You’re confident to offer so little for wanting so much in return,” the tip of his blade lifting up the hem of your face veil as you trembled out of fear.

“There is no need for bloodshed. My father will bend his knee and I will go with you, my Lord,” you choked out, trying to hide your obvious fear.

Rabban tilted his head and laughed at you. Then, in one swift move he cut the veil open and you gasped as the fabric fell down on the floor, leaving you exposed in front of him and his Harkonnen soldiers. It was one of the greatest humiliations for the Pairi Daêza woman for her to reveal her face in front of a man outside her close family before her wedding. It was her husband who was supposed to lift the veil off of her face on their wedding day and see her first before every other man would. To take the veil off of an unmarried woman in an aggressive manner like this was the greatest disrespect that back in the day men had been punished for by the law.

Embarrassed and humbled down, you stood still, trying to stare back at the Beast Rabban with your shoulders straight and your lips pursed out of anger and determination.

“You are not mine for the taking. I am to take you to Giedi Prime and my uncle shall decide what to do with you. Most likely he will want you to be my younger brother’s bride because it is him who will inherit the title one day,” he told you and you felt a knot forming in your stomach.

You hated Rabban but he was the devil you knew from the stories and now personally as well. His brother was a new character in the story that you feared. What was he like? 

“Why is that not you?” You asked him. “You have just conquered a planet for your uncle, have you not, my Lord?”

“It is not I who argues with my uncle’s decisions,” Rabban snapped at you but you saw in his cruel eyes that you had touched a sensitive subject with your question. “Will you bend your knee, Sultan (Y/L/N)?” He asked your father.

He was staring at you with a terrified expression on his face. He couldn’t believe what you had just done. But you knew he wouldn’t throw a fist now. He would bend his knee because your father was a weak man.

Deep down, despite your love for him, you hated him for his weakness. Most of your problems, most of the failures in this war were caused by this trait of his. You couldn’t blame him, though. The Sultans of Pairi Daêza had never been trained to fight or lead military campaigns. There had been no need for that in the past.

“I, Sultan (Y/F/N) of The House (Y/L/N), pledge my allegiance to The House Harkonnen,” your father kneeled and bowed his head down.

You watched Rabban closely. He could accept this offer but he could also simply behead your father.

“In the name of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, may your service be accepted, Sultan (Y/L/N),” he nodded his head. “We didn’t know who to make the Governor of this wasteland anyway,” he snorted. “I guess this is solved. However, you will be watched carefully,” he squinted his eyes at your father. “I will leave my guards here and you will be spied on every second of your pathetic life, Sultan.”

“Yes, my Lord,” your father nodded. “What about the rebellion you helped to start? The citizens of Pairi Daêza do not wish me to stay in this Palace anymore.”

“You have my army to command now. You can slay them,” Rabban shrugged his arms and your father stood up clumsily.

“You helped them to start the rebellion against me and now you’re giving me your army to slay the rebels?” He asked to make sure.

“All we care about is your spice,” Rabban’s voice sounded casual and then he turned around to look at you again. “And your daughter,” he added with a smirk before approaching you and grabbing you by your arm roughly. You squealed as he started to walk you out of the room.

“Let me go!” You protested.

“You’re already breaking our arrangement, woman. You promised to be obedient,” he barked at you.

“I want to say goodbye to my parents,” you told him.

“It’s not the last time you’re seeing them. That is, if they play nice and don’t start anything,” he threatened as he looked at your scared parents.

Your mother risked it, though, and she ran up to you. Her shaking hands grabbed yours as she sobbed. She couldn’t say much because of her state but she didn’t have to.

“I will be fine, mama. I will survive and you have to as well, do you hear me? Otherwise my sacrifice won’t matter,” you told her and she nodded her head, silently choking on her sobs.

“That’s enough,” Rabban threw you over his shoulder swiftly like you were a sack of potatoes and he took you out of the Palace – straight to the huge Harkonnen ship that was destined to go back on Giedi Prime.

You were a war prize.

You didn’t know much about Giedi Prime except for scary legends and myths. The heavy industrial landscape was something you had not been used to nor was their black sun that was making everything on the planet black-and-white when you were spending time outside. Not that you had spent lots of time there. You were transported from the ship to the huge black fortress and into the chambers with a few female servants waiting for you. They bathed you carefully and put you in long black robes with a veil mimicking the ones that were traditional for the Pairi Daêza unmarried women. Only your eyes were visible when you looked at yourself in the mirror, but barely – the veil was decorated with dangling silver chains. They were making you look even more mysterious and kind of dangerous but the whole outfit felt like a mockery of the traditional robes of your people.

The unmarried women of Pairi Daêza were hiding their faces but their dresses were often made of a few layers of sheer and colourful materials. Just because they were under a cover, didn’t mean they were not cheerful and full of life. The dresses would be often decorated with lace, flowers or embroidery. They were flowy and ethereal when the women walked down the streets and all the married women who no longer had to hide their faces were envious as they remembered their younger days. On Giedi Prime you looked as if you were in a deep state of mourning. But perhaps you were. Your planet was destroyed, your family humiliated. And no one knew what would happen to you.

You were taken by the guards and followed by the servants to a huge throne room of The Baron Harkonnen. You had heard of him from your father so you expected the worst but his unnaturally huge and floating form still made the blood in your veins run cold. He was enormous and repulsing; sickly. Kept alive by the machinery behind him and the undying will to rule forever.

He was accompanied by Rabban who smirked at you when you walked inside. There was another man standing there, too. He was young; strong and muscular but also slim. Tall and proud in the way he stood. His face was full of cruelty and mockery but you had to admit he was rather attractive… at least for a Harkonnen male. His lips were full, his eyes reminded you of a snake but they were decorated with a long set of eyelashes. You hoped he was the younger brother that Beast Rabban had mentioned before.

You stood in front of the stairs leading to The Baron’s throne and you bowed down, waiting for his reaction.

“Shehzadi (Y/L/N),” he greeted you in a harsh, deep voice that sent shivers down your spine. “Finally I get to see you… Or not,” he added and you raised your head to lay your eyes on him. He was observing you carefully and so was the young man. “Take her veil off, Rabban, show me what you’ve brought here,” he snapped at his nephew and the Beast approached you. “She better be pretty enough for Feyd-Rautha if you decided to spare her father’s life for her,” The Baron teased him. 

“Who would have thought that women were your weakness,” the man named Feyd hissed at his brother and you got startled by the sound of his voice. It was identical to The Baron’s in a twisted and uncomfortable way that formed a knot in your stomach.

You felt oddly bad for the Beast Rabban. He was the one to conquer your planet and he was the one to take you. Yet, you were a prize that he had won not for himself but for his spoiled younger brother. You couldn’t quite understand the dynamic of this family yet.

He stood next to you and grabbed the fabric of your veil in his fist in his usual brutal manner. By the pace of his breath, you could hear that he was as nervous as you were. If The Baron would not like you, he would be punished for going soft on your father.

Rabban’s hand hesitated before tearing the veil off of your face. It caught his younger brother’s attention. He hissed and walked up to you with a short knife in his hands that he had been playing with as if out of boredom. He smirked at you and revealed black teeth that made you flinch at the sight. Your reaction only excited him.

“How long do I have to wait, brother?” He asked as he cut the veil open, impatiently. Rabban took a step back and allowed his brother to take a better look at you. The Baron tried to peek in but Feyd was standing right in front of you and covering your face completely from his uncle’s sight.

The young man hummed to himself and tilted his head both sides. He raised his hand up and grabbed your chin to squeeze it gently.

“How old is she?” He asked his brother as if you could not speak.

“Shehzadi (Y/N) is twenty years old like you are,” Rabban tried to recommend your virtues the best he could, like he was a slave seller.

“Five and twenty,” you corrected him confidently, not feeling any shame about your age. Rabban took a sharp breath in as Feyd gave him a scolding look.

“A bit old, isn’t it?” The Baron’s voice interrupted them.

Feyd looked you up and down with so much fire in his eyes that you started to feel your cheeks heating up. You had never been looked at this way not only because of the custom of covering your face but also because it was not a way that men on Pairi Daêza would court women in.

“I’ll take her,” Feyd shrugged his arms as he announced to his uncle. He turned around to look at him and you sighed out of relief. So did Rabban.

“Move aside, Feyd,” The Baron barked at his nephew, impatiently. “It is I who decide,” he added and Feyd took a step to the left, revealing your form to his uncle. You had both of the brothers standing on both sides and their hideous uncle looming over a few steps ahead of you.

In complete silence he was watching you for a long while, puffing on his pipe. Finally, he beckoned you over to come closer. You gathered the fabric of your skirt in your hands and took a few steps ahead with your heart pounding in your chest.

“I shall take her,” he stated as the whole room went dead silent.

“What are you talking about?!” Feyd protested and you chewed on the insides of your cheeks, trying not to burst into tears. “She is mine for the taking!”

The Baron was a disgusting creature but you were aware that being his wife would give you more power and influence than marrying any of his nephews. It would protect your family better, too.

And every power came with a sacrifice.

Still, your dignity wanted to join Feyd-Rautha’s tantrum. You had been expecting to be given in marriage to a young and healthy warrior. Not an old and sickly piece of greasy meat in front of you.

“Shut up, boy!” The Baron yelled at Feyd and you flinched. “Don’t startle, my Shehzadi,” he cooed to you in a malicious whisper. “As you can see, none of my nephews are worthy of you nor my throne one day. You shall give me an heir,” he told you and you nodded, obediently. Fighting him had no purpose.

Feyd was furious. You heard him walking out of the room angrily and slamming the door behind him.

“You have just made an enemy, my Shehzadi,” The Baron reached his swollen pale hand with the green and blue veins popping out. You gently took it and nearly gagged at the feeling of it.

“Me, my Lord?” You tried to bat your eyelashes at him. Your voice shivered out of fear and he smirked at you.

“Feyd-Rautha will no longer be the Na-Baron when our son is born. He will do everything to get rid of you and the child. You shall be careful, sweet Shehzadi,” he warned you. “I have my ways of keeping him obedient. When he’s not showing you proper respect, you will tell me, yes?”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” you nodded.

“Good,” he squeezed our hand gently and you felt your stomach turning. “Go, prepare for the wedding,” he let go of you and raised his finger to touch your cheek. It was getting difficult to hide your repulsion but on the other hand it was oddly satisfying to know that you were chosen by The Baron himself.

You bowed down and walked out of the room with the guards and servants. They all were staring at you with widened eyes, as shocked with the outcome of this day as you were.

You hadn’t seen The Baron for the past few weeks of the preparations for the wedding. In fact, you hadn't seen anyone. You had been kept a prisoner in one part of the fortress but you did not mind that at all because you had lots of servants and your chambers did not lack any luxury. The only thing you missed was nature – the greenery, the sound of birds, the feeling of the sun on your skin, the light breeze of the Ocean. But there was no way of coming back to it. Pairi Daêza had none of it anymore.

Spoiled as a child, you were harshened in your teenage years by the war taking place in your homeland. Despite your father’s weakness flowing in your blood, you had learnt how to adapt and survive. You would survive just well on Giedi Prime, you decided.

The only thing you dreaded about your marriage was the physical aspect of the union. However, you had been informed by the medic visiting you every morning about the nature of your future duties.

“These injections are supposed to prepare your body for carrying a son,” he told you after sticking a syringe with an odd liquid into your vein. “After the wedding you will be bred to carry The Baron’s heir, my Lady.”

“Bred?” You swallowed thickly.

“I will insert the seed during a swift and painless procedure, my Lady,” he assured you.

“So… I will not be…” You didn’t know how to say it without offending The Baron.

The medic knew, though. He looked up into your eyes as your face was covered with the black veil. The Baron had liked your homeworld’s tradition and allowed you to cover your face until the wedding.

“The Baron’s health does not allow such activities,” he informed you and you sighed out of relief. “Which does not mean he will not demand some… other duties.”

You nodded your head at him. Some other duties, whatever they meant, you could survive. It was the haunting image of him hovering over you or taking you from behind that was keeping you sleepless recently. You had come to Giedi Prime completely innocent in that subject but you made your Harkonnen servants tell you all about it. They were experienced, especially the ones who had been called late at night to Feyd-Rautha’s chambers. The young na-baron apparently liked sex a lot. The more you were finding out about him and his nature, the more glad you were that it was his uncle you were marrying. At least he was not so young; not so full of adrenaline and testosterone as his nephew.

Giedi Prime had not had a Baroness in a long time. The ceremony was about to be the grandest you had ever experienced. The leaders of the great houses had been invited – your parents amongst them. Even The Emperor himself had sent an envoy to take part in the event in his name. You had never expected to hold such importance in the Galaxy. After all, you were only a Shehzadi of a small and unimportant Pairi Daêza. The spice deposit had truly changed everything.

Your servant women worked on your huge wedding dress. It was black, too, of course. Everything was black. But there was some meaning behind it, in fact, since the wedding was an occasion to mourn your maidenhood and your previous life. The veil covering your face was decorated and attached to the upper part of your bodice, so when your face would be revealed and the veil taken off, your dress would stop being so modest and show off your breasts squeezed by a corset. You didn’t feel comfortable with that idea. Women on Pairi Daêza were not known for revealing their physical virtues in such a way. But Harkonnen women were their husbands’ prizes and trophies. You wanted to make The Baron proud because it would keep him happy. And keeping him happy meant the safety of you and your family. You didn’t want to play many games. You just wanted to survive.

You actually wanted to give him a son. Because giving him a son would seal your fate as The Baroness. Your position would be untouchable and that awful Feyd-Rautha could throw tantrums about it but it would be your son who would inherit the title of The Baron.

You were allowed to see your parents before the ceremony because they were supposed to leave early in the morning on the next day and in the evening there would be no occasion to be left alone with them like you were now. Alone in a room with your mother and father whose faces looked worried and exhausted. Their clothes were different than you remembered. Less colourful as if they were grieving, too.

“Are you alright?” Your mother asked you. She approached you and tried to lift the veil off but it refused to move.

“It is attached to the dress. I am fine,” you assured her. “Do not worry, my face is not bruised. You will see when he takes it off,” you nodded.

“It is an honour for you to marry The Baron himself,” your father smiled at you gently. “A great honour that he has liked you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your mother scolded him. “It is awful, awful news. You know what he’s like. He’s destroyed our planet!”

“She can handle that for all the power she’s going to have now,” he shrugged his arms.

“How easy it is to say for a man,” your mother sighed. “You owe her your life.”

“I do and I am grateful,” your father nodded his head at you.

“And yet you demand more,” you whispered to him. He froze. “You demand of me to keep The Baron happy so he doesn’t get rid of you. But that is your part of the deal. You shall obey him and play nice as you promised. As long as you do that, there is no threat and my protection is not required.”

“If you think this way, why are you here, all dressed up to get married?” He raised his eyebrow.

“For mother,” you held her hands gently, “because you will not be able to protect her like me,” you added sternly.

Your father looked away, frustrated. He wanted to snap at you but he could not. Not when you were The Baron’s bride. You were no longer his daughter but almost another man’s wife. And the man was too powerful to disrespect.

The ownership of women. Once your father’s, then your husband’s. Freedom would come only in the case of a man’s death. And yet, men wondered why so many women were so angry and bloodthirsty.

“Time’s up,” one of the guards entered the room harshly. “Shehzadi (Y/N) is asked to attend the ceremony,” he announced and nodded at you. You nodded back and squeezed your mother’s hands for the last time before following the guard into the dark and cold corridor of the fortress, trying to keep your veiled head high.

Out of the people gathered for the ceremony, one pair of eyes was locked on you the most intensely. The dark eyes of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen were observing your every move, every gesture, every breath and every word. You felt suffocated by his gaze. It was full of fire like the first time he had seen you but also full of hatred and contempt. You couldn’t tell if he wanted to claim you or kill you. Perhaps both answers were true. You wouldn’t be surprised after hearing all the stories about him.

You feared him the most out of all The Harkonnens. Beast Rabban was the devil you knew and you were his weakness because you were the prize he had conquered himself. The Baron was terrifying and dangerous but he was rather calm and he treated you like a pet so as long as you were quiet and obedient, he did not take pleasure in tormenting you. Feyd-Rautha was different. He was psychotic and your wedding to his uncle was making him lose the greatest deal – his inheritance.

The worst part of the wedding ceremony was the kiss. Not that The Baron had been particularly passionate about it but something about his lips touching yours – even though briefly – was making your insides twist. Perhaps being married to him wouldn’t be as easy to survive as you had been hoping.

When The Wedding Games had begun, Feyd-Rautha joined them eagerly with all the fierceness a warrior could possess. It was an old and dreadful tradition full of blood and violence, a display of power and murderous Harkonnen nature. The men, usually gladiators, were fighting for life and death. Only one could remain and become the winner who would be forever remembered. When his nephew joined the fight, your new husband didn’t look very pleased and he followed every movement of his boy carefully, keeping his eye on the guard, too. He was scared of losing his heir after all.

You watched Feyd-Rautha fight as well. His moves were swift and confident. It was bringing him joy to both hurt and be hurt. He was playful in combat – smirking, winking, occasionally looking back to make sure you were watching. And whenever he was the one to take the blow, he would let out a laugh and hiss in pleasure. He was an odd, scary creature because he had no fear of any sort of pain. Not even death most likely.

Eventually, he killed the last opponent right in front of your eyes, wanting for you to flinch, you suspected. You did not give him such satisfaction. All the years of the war on your planet had made you immune to the sight of such violence and death.

He let out a triumphant yell and raised the bloody knife before bowing down and reaching his hands out with the blade towards you. You stood up and accepted his offering as you had been taught by your servants the past few weeks during your preparations.

“Thy display of power and bravery has been noticed, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you told him the words you had learnt by heart.

“For my Baroness I will shed the blood of my enemies,” he looked up intensely at you and you swallowed thickly. You hated when he was staring like this. You only nodded and turned around to hand the bloody blade to one of the guards who would secure it. The blade would later be on display in the Memory Room.

You sat back down and forced a small meal upon yourself. In the meantime, your husband had already left the party. Not that you minded.

Feyd and Rabban were sitting nearby. Both were staring at you but the older one actually looked as if he was sorry for you. He hadn’t spoken a word to you ever since his uncle had decided to be the one to marry you. It was nearly funny how back on Pairi Daêza everyone feared the Beast Rabban but here on Giedi Prime he was the least important pawn of the game.

Around midnight, one of The Baron’s servants leaned in to whisper into your ear to inform you that your husband had been waiting for you in his chambers. You swallowed thickly and nodded your head before standing up and leaving the dining room as fast as possible.

In the dark corridor you slowed down, though, not wanting to walk too fast and approach the dreaded room too soon. The guards were not following you but you knew the way, you had been taught it by your servants even though your chambers were in a different part of the fortress. Now, as The Baroness, you would get the new ones – even more splendid and luxurious. But you had been told you would not share them with your husband which was a great comfort.

Halfway there you heard footsteps behind you and you angered. Whatever humiliation was there to come, you did not want any witnesses. The corridor was dark and empty and yet some guard decided to follow you. You turned around furiously, ready to scold him. But it was no guard. It was Feyd-Rautha.

He leaned on the wall with a smirk and squinted his eyes at you.

“What do you want?” You asked him and clenched your jaw.

“Like a sheep for slaughter,” he snorted at you.

“That is none of your business, I believe,” you straightened yourself and raised your chin up.

He didn’t like your remark as he moved away from the wall and approached you quickly. In no time you felt his face looming over yours, mere inches away.

“I know what he’s going to do to you,” he whispered as you tried to remain cool but his words made you terrified. There was an odd sparkle in his eye, like he was enjoying your torment. He probably was.

“Fuck me?” You tried to pretend it didn’t bother you.

“Well, well, well, look at how dirty your mouth can be, Shehzadi,” Feyd-Rautha grabbed your cheeks to squeeze them and your eyes widened at his insolence.

“To you, I’m The Baroness,” you mumbled out.

“Sure you are, little snake. How else should I call you? An aunt?” He teased. “I shall,” he added. “No, he’s not going to fuck you. But he’s going to touch you and this reeking, slimy feeling won’t ever leave your skin. You will feel him always,” he moved even closer to you. You wondered how he could know such things. Then you felt how hard he was underneath his leather pants. You were scared he would hurt you now, which would make your husband furious and toss you aside, surely. 

“Sounds like you’d like to watch,” you drawled, regretting it instantly. He took a sharp breath in and pushed you against the wall, still holding your cheeks but now you were trapped between his body and the cold marble.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he warned you. It was surprising there were things he was finding gross. He didn’t look like the type. “You’ve no idea what’s waiting for you, aunt,” he hissed.

“Aw, you’re worried?” You cooed and he let go of your cheeks angrily. He remained close to you, though. You felt his hot breath on your face. He smelled like blood and leather.

Feyd’s hands dropped to your waist. Before you could stop him, he was pulling up all the layers of your dress, desperately trying to get the access between your legs. You grabbed his wrists, trying to stop him quietly.

“No, no, no, please, no,” you whispered in a panic. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, aunt. He’s going to do it,” Feyd snorted at your words and froze when all the layers of your dress that had been on the way were finally moved aside. A cold shiver went down your legs at the feeling of your exposed thighs. Feyd cupped your womanhood covered with black silky underwear. You gasped at the feeling as your eyes widened when you looked at his face. His lips curled into a smirk as you shook your head.

“Relax, Baroness, I’ll ease you for him,” he told you as his fingers hooked on the edge of your underwear. You felt his cold fingertips brushing your pussy softly and a set of shivers went down your spine at that sensation.

You didn’t know how to feel about it. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were getting dizzy. Your mind wanted him to stop but your body did not. Despite the lack of experience, you knew that The Baron would not make you feel the same way as his young nephew would.

“I won’t fuck you,” he let out a raspy whisper, “he would kill us both for that.”

“He wouldn’t know,” you told him and Feyd tilted his head at you. “I’ve been examined by the medic this morning to prove my innocence. I doubt he will examine me now again.”

“Believe me, he would know,” Feyd let out a laugh as he moved your underwear aside and exposed your womanhood. It was too dark for you to feel ashamed of it but it still felt incredibly wrong. Yet, you didn’t ask him to stop. Not that it would change anything.

He raised his hand up to his full lips and licked them while staring deep into your widened eyes. Then he put his hand between your legs again and began to touch you in your most intimate place. You sighed at the feeling of his wet and cold fingers trying to get between your folds.

“Open your legs further,” he ordered and your body obeyed by moving the legs more apart before your mind could take over and make a responsible decision to run away. Not that you could run away because with his free hand he grabbed one of your wrists and pinned it to the wall above your head.

Once he got a better access to your pussy, Feyd focused on massaging your sweet spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head, occasionally dipping his finger carefully inside of you to gather some of your wetness. You moaned softly and dug your fingernails into his bicep, feeling a close release. He was smirking at how fast he could make you reach your high but you didn’t care. You hated him but his fingers were skilled, making you stand on your toes as the muscles of your abdomen tensed, desperately wanting more friction.

“I’m gonna…” You gasped and that was when he took his hand away, fixed your underwear and took a step back, letting the folds of your dress fall down to their place. It took you a moment to collect yourself and realise that he had left you without a release but with a deep and urgent need. “What was that?” You asked.

“Now it won’t hurt when my uncle does the same to you, aunt. Maybe you’ll even cum with his fingers inside you as you remember my fingers on your cunt,” Feyd chuckled contemptuously and licked his fingers clean as you watched with terror in your eyes. “Sweet. Like I’ve imagined a cunt from Paradise to be,” he commented and turned around to walk back to the party, leaving you breathless and dizzy with an ache between your legs.

For a while you forgot where to go. You kept taking wrong turns before finally approaching the doors leading to The Baron’s chambers. At your state you weren’t even scared anymore. Feyd-Rautha had eased your mind indeed and reduced your body functions to one primal need.

You pushed the door open softly and entered your husband’s chambers. They were nearly empty and very cold. In the middle of it, there was a big bathtub full of a black substance. He was bathing in it and puffing on his pipe as he squinted his eyes at you.

“What took you so long, Baroness?” He asked and you cleared your throat, trying not to sound too shook up. The sight of him in that bathtub made your desire much lesser, though. Even the memory of Feyd-Rautha’s cold fingertips brushing your clit lightly and teasing you with pleasure could not make you feel the same excitement again.

“I’m sorry. I got lost,” you answered, which had been only half a lie.

“Don’t worry, Baroness, you will soon remember the way,” he wasn’t angry and he beckoned you over with a move of his wrist.

You approached him obediently although your limbs were getting numb. You were left completely alone with him and you had no idea what he would want now from you. As your husband he could demand anything and you’d have to follow.

“Undress yourself,” his voice was softer than when he would address his nephews but it was still an order as he watched carefully with squinted eyes.

You nodded shyly at his words and began to clumsily take your gown off. It was a complicated piece of fashion and you did not have any servants to assist you. However, your husband was not rushing you, he simply watched and he was visibly content.

When you were naked, you covered yourself with your hands as you stood in front of him. He looked up from his bathtub and puffed on his pipe with a smirk.

“No, no, don’t hide,” he shook his head. “Come, join me,” he invited you in and you swallowed thickly at the black slime he had been bathing in. You doubted it was harmful but you didn’t want to sit in the same substance as him. “Join me,” he repeated, more sternly this time and you bit on your lower lip as you nodded and entered the bathtub.

Your body was shaking but the odd liquid was nicely warm and relaxing. The feeling of it helped you ease a bit. You sat as far away as possible from him.

“Come closer, Baroness. You see, I’m old now and not of the best health. I sadly cannot perform my marital duties and satisfy you like a husband would,” he pretended to feel sorry for you. “But I want to play with you a little and admire my new wife,” he reached out his hand and you took a deep breath in before holding it and letting him pull you closer. “Do you know why I took you for myself?” He whispered and you shook your head. “Because he wanted you so much.”

When you left The Baron’s chambers, there were two scared female servants waiting already behind the doors. At the sight of you leaving in a hurry, they entered – most likely to finish what you had started. You hurried to the rooms that were supposed to be yours now. They were empty since your own servants would come in the morning.

You had been barely dressed because you wanted to leave his room as fast as possible. This time taking your dress off took you a few seconds and you jumped into the bathtub in the bathroom and filled it with warm water. With a sponge laying on the counter you started to scrub your body harshly, causing the skin to bleed in a few places. You wanted to get the black slime off of you and – most importantly – your husband’s touch.

Feyd had been right. What his uncle had done to you was not the worst – he had been touching and teasing, sniffing your scent and caressing your skin as he had whispered about the beauty of youth and innocence. But the fact that it had been him doing so, it made it the most disgusting thing you had ever experienced. You gagged at the very memory of it and now, after your wedding night, you no longer felt comfortable with the idea of being bred with his son even if it would be an artificial conception.

You started to sob uncontrollably. You hated The Harkonnens. They had destroyed your planet and your childhood. Now they destroyed your innocence and womanhood. You would never get free of them.

But death was not an option. It would be an easy way out. You had to be strong.

The medic’s procedure had truly been quick and painless but you felt disgusting leaving the medical wing of the fortress knowing that The Baron’s seed might be already growing in you. To make it worse, on your way back to your chambers, you spotted Feyd-Rautha coming back from the training yards. He smirked at the sight of you as you froze, still remembering the last night’s blasphemous act of intimacy that he had performed.

“Aunt,” he greeted you with a nod of his head.

“Nephew,” you answered in a similar manner as you looked him up and down.

Sweaty from the combat and still wielding a blade, he looked incredibly magnetic at that moment. His youthful and fearless energy was unfortunately drawing you in. The way he was staring at you made you remember how good his fingers had felt on your pussy and it brought the heat up to your cheeks. You wished he would stay away from you because his very presence was a torment.

“How was it?” He leaned in when he spoke to you, his eyes carefully watching your figure. You did not give him an answer. “Did you cum?”

“You’re an insolent brat, Feyd-Rautha,” you told him sternly and he straightened himself. You spoiled his fun by not being scared nor disgusted. “I want you to stay away from me since I might already be carrying your uncle’s true heir,” you added.

The playfulness of his eyes turned into anger very quickly. He pointed at your abdomen with his blade and you flinched. The guards standing a few steps behind you, hurried to your side immediately.

“You will soon realise, aunt,” Feyd drawled, “that he is your enemy – not me. He will destroy you like he destroys everything he ever lays his hands on.”

“Like he destroyed you?” You raised your eyebrow curiously and he lowered the blade. His jaw clenched but there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes at that moment, which surprised you. You didn’t expect a man like him to ever feel hurt.

Feyd-Rautha did not reply to that. He walked away without a word, followed by your guards’ eyes.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” One of them asked you and you nodded. “Shall we tell The Baron about the incident?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “His nephew’s antics must be tempered.”

Six months had passed since your wedding day and you still were not carrying The Baron’s heir. Your husband was growing impatient and the only thing stopping him from getting angry at you was the medic’s declaration that it had not been your fault but the seed’s quality was weak due to your husband’s age and condition. Even enhanced artificially with the Harkonnen science, it could not settle well in your womb. At this point you were so drugged with their injections to the point that you wouldn’t be surprised if a simple touch of any other man than your husband would put a son in you. How ironic.

You had no idea what The Baron had done to Feyd-Rautha but after the corridor’s incident the young man had been avoiding you. He had been watching you carefully from afar with eyes full of hatred like an ominous shadow following you behind wherever you would go. But he would not approach you nor talk to you unless he had to in an official situation. He would always address you with respect as The Baroness or Aunt. You had noticed that it brought him a twisted pleasure to call you by that name.

Your husband hadn’t been spending much more time with you either. He would be next to you during the official events and he would ask you to join him in his chambers about once or twice a week but other than that you had been spending your days alone with nobody but your female servants and male guards, occasionally with the medic. It was a lonely life but at least you weren’t exposed too much to the dreadful Harkonnens… except for the nights you were expected to perform some sort of marital duties.

No amount of time had made you used to The Baron’s touch. You would flinch every time he caressed your body or admired it while whispering the filthiest things. But after the first month your body had developed a defence mechanism of dissociation during those acts.

Technically speaking, though, after six months of being The Baroness Harkonnen, you remained a virgin. The marriage had not been consummated properly so The Baron could divorce you without consequences any day. Giving him a son was the only thing that would legitimise your union. And as much as you dreaded his spawn growing inside of you, you wanted to secure your position. The frustration of not getting pregnant had brought you to tears many times before.

It did now as well. An hour after finding out that the last week’s procedure had failed and the seed had not settled in your womb. The medic had been both sorry for you and himself because he had known that The Baron’s rage would mostly be aimed at him for not doing enough. Soon, though, you were sure, it would reach you as well.

Your chambers were being cleaned at the moment and you wanted to be alone so you wandered to a different part of the fortress and hid in one of the empty study rooms. You kicked your shoes off and sat on a black leather armchair by the wall as you sobbed into your hands, curling up with your feet up on the seat. You felt so small and unimportant at that moment; you missed home and you missed your mother’s embrace. You missed any sort of affection.

Focused on self-pity you did not hear the doors opening. You only startled at the sound of them closing loudly and you froze at the sight of Feyd-Rautha who had just entered the study room. At first, he stiffened seeing you as well.

“What are you doing here, aunt?” He asked, carefully.

“It is none of your business, go away,” you ordered, trying for your voice not to break and reveal your crying state.

“You cannot command that,” he snorted at you.

“I am your Baroness. I can and I will,” you sniffled your tears back and you hugged yourself tighter as if you wanted to protect yourself from him.

Feyd ignored your words, though. He approached you confidently and smirked after realising what you had been doing.

“Yes, feast on the sight of me crying,” you snapped. “What a pleasure it must be for you. Let me please you further, dear nephew. I am still not expecting an heir that would take your place. Happy now?” Your voice trembled.

“Look at you, you’re glowing,” he crouched down to be on your level as he whispered in an oddly seductive way. You furrowed your brows at his words and he reached his hand out to brush your cheek stained with tears. “They’ve injected so many hormones into you, Baroness, you’re practically begging to be fucked. You’ve no idea what the smell of you does to men around you…” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked the tip softly. “The taste… Even your tears are an aphrodisiac,” he looked up at you and you swallowed thickly. It was making you uncomfortable but for the first time in a long time you felt seen. “What a torment it must be. Do you touch yourself, aunt?” He asked and the insolent question snapped you back to reality.

“I’ve no idea how he punishes you but you’re asking to be punished again,” you warned him.

“I can show you how he punishes me,” Feyd did not wait for your answer as he took his black shirt off, revealing his pale and strong chest. His hard muscles were simply beautiful, you had to admit it. But when he turned around to show you his back, he revealed dozens of thin scars scattered all over. Some were white and bumpy, visibly old. But some were more fresh and still reddened. You hissed at the sight and he turned his head around to look at your face.

“I’m sorry, I did not know…” You admitted and reached your hand out to touch some of them gently. You let your finger follow the lines and he smirked.

“Don’t be sorry, aunt. I enjoy the whipping,” he grabbed your wrist and turned his body in your direction again.

“It is hard to believe, Feyd-Rautha,” you admitted. “I thought his punishment was based on threats.”

“His methods are more sophisticated,” Feyd sneered. “Now, I’ve revealed myself to you, Baroness. Will you reveal yourself to me?” He asked and you furrowed your brow. “Do you touch yourself?” He repeated the question that caused your cheeks to heat up.

“Sometimes,” you answered. “I start but I never finish because somewhere in the middle I get haunted by the visions of his hands touching me and they make me sick,” you whispered your secret.

“Poor aunt, you must be so tense,” Feyd cooed to you and let go of your wrist. “So ready and eager to welcome a child in her womb and yet so unsatisfied.”

You hated to admit that he was right. The amount of hormones that had been injected made your breasts and womanhood sensitive, a single brush of your servant’s hand during the bathtime was enough to fill you with desire. Most of the time you were walking around with an itch deep between your legs, a heavy burden that could not be removed by any means.

Now, Feyd-Rautha being so close to you and talking to you in such a manner was not helping. In fact, it was making your condition worse.

“What do you care?” You asked. “I thought you don’t want me to carry him a son. If he tossed me aside or even killed me, it would be your victory,” you pointed out.

“My greatest victory would be humiliating him by putting my son in your womb,” Feyd watched your reaction carefully but you didn’t even flinch at the sound of that.

He was young and so full of life. You were sure he’d succeed during the first try. It would secure your position and keep The Baron Happy.

“What if he finds out? He’d kill us both,” you bit on your lower lip.

“And you think I would allow that?” He snorted at you, revealing his black teeth. You were so shook up that in this state you even found them attractive. The fact they were so black, so different, so extraordinary, symbolising his brutality. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted his toxic saliva to poison your innocence. You wanted to be trapped under him as he ravages you.

He had to notice the shift of your gaze, the way you face changed its expression. He smirked triumphantly, already knowing that you craved him.

“The medic… He will see I was deflowered,” your last hesitation made you speak up your concerns.

“The medic?” Feyd-Rautha chuckled contemptuously. “The same one who is working for me? The same one who is making sure that my uncle’s seed is not succeeding?”

“Wh-what?” You choked out but he only smirked as he shushed you.

“Don’t forget you were supposed to be mine, little snake. I do not give up easily,” he admitted and with one rapid movement of his strong hands he pushed your legs apart as your thin silky dress pulled up, revealing you to him. “Let’s give you a quick release before I properly breed you. You must be in such pain and torment,” he cooed.

Your eyes widened at his actions but you did not protest. Your limbs were getting numb out of the overwhelming desire and feeling his breath on your pussy was nearly enough to make you cum on spot.

Feyd dropped to his knees and leaned in even closer, biting the soft flesh of your thighs gently with his black teeth and leaving trails of saliva. You felt your womanhood pulsating, begging for his attention. He had to notice the twitching muscles underneath your underwear as well as he chuckled and took it off of you greedily. He froze for a moment with his eyes fixed on his prize and he slowly licked his lips.

“So swollen and eager. The smell is enough to put only one thought in my head,” he admitted. “Make you swell with my seed. Come here,” he crooned in his coarse voice that sent shivers down your spine as he grabbed your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the armchair’s seat. He threw your feet over his muscular shoulders and opened his mouth to stick out his long and slim tongue to show it off for you as you took a deep and shaky breath in.

Feyd leaned in and buried his face between your wet folds that had been anticipating any sort of release for weeks now. You gasped loudly at the sensation of the tip of his tongue tickling your sensitive sweet spot. His mouth was so skilled that he did not require the assistance of his hands as he placed them flat on your thighs to keep steady. He would gather your wetness with his tongue and then dip it all inside of you, making your back arch and hips rise slightly for more friction. There were times when his whole face was buried deep into you but he did not even flinch from the lack of air as he was devouring you, licking you completely clean like a starving dog and then focusing again on your swollen clit. Whenever he teased it, you were sure you’d cum now but then he would move his tongue away over and over, keeping you on the edge.

Your gasps and soft moans filled the room. You were trying to hold yourself back a little, ashamed of being so displayed for him but on the other hand it was him kneeling down to lick your pussy like a servant. It was you who was in control and the thought of that alone was enough to turn you on even more.

Your hands had been squeezing the armchair’s leather fabric but you dared to place them on the back of Feyd’s bald head and he did not protest. In fact, he moaned at the feeling as a pleasurable vibration went down your body. Your toes curled when you pushed his face even deeper and you felt the pressure of his nose on your clit when he was fucking you with his long tongue.

The overwhelming desire stripped you out of shame as you began to move his head up and down, rubbing your pussy all over his face while your moans grew higher and louder. Fuck it, you thought, you deserved it. After months of such a sad and awful marriage, being The Baron’s trophy wife, unsatisfied and yet violated by his repulsing touch, you deserved to cum on his handsome nephew’s face. It was the least Feyd-Rautha could do to make it up for you.

With a loud moan, shaky breath and trembling legs you finally reached your peak. Although the movements of your hips came to a halt and your hands stopped pushing his face, he was relentlessly sucking on your clit throughout your high, until you begged him to stop and he hesitantly let go of your glistening pussy with your sticky juices vulgarly dripping down his chin as you looked down at him with hazy eyes.

“I could feast on you for days, Baroness, you’re as sweet as a ripe fruit from your homeworld,” Feyd did not bother with wiping his face. He took your limp feet and calves from his shoulders and threw them back on the floor before placing one last kiss upon your wet mound as your pussy twitched uncontrollably in an aftershock.

You didn’t know what to say. You could see the hunger in him, he expected more and you wanted it, too. You wanted to feel his cock inside of you, you wanted him to fuck you like The Baron could never do.

“Claim me, Feyd-Rautha,” you ordered in a weak voice. “I want to remember with satisfaction each time he asks for me that it is you who have claimed me and fucked me. Put your son in me and smile every time you see me walking swollen with your seed as you know that it is yours and not his. If you’re a good boy now, I might reward you and let you feast on my fruit every night in my chambers,” you promised, like it would bring him more pleasure than you, which was not true at all. You craved it as much as him, if not more.

Your words elicited even greater hunger inside of him as he grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you down on the cold marble floor. The coolness of the stone brought some relief to your feverish body, your dress was still pulled up and you watched Feyd positioning himself above you as you bit on your lower lip and realised he would truly claim you now, on the floor of an empty room in secret. There was something barbaric about it and the fact you were an innocent lady from a planet known as Paradise who would be taken by such a brute warrior was making you go dizzy. You didn’t even fear the pain that would come with it because you wanted it – you wanted him to stretch you out and fill you.

When such thoughts were invading your mind and exciting you all over again, Feyd got his cock out of his leather pants and stroked it at the sight of you waiting for him with your legs open. With his free hand he gathered the wetness of your pussy and coated his length with it before hovering over you with his face inches away from yours.

“It’s going to hurt, my Lady,” he warned you with a smirk, there was absolutely no worry in his voice.

“I want you to hurt me,” you nodded and grabbed his biceps, ready to dig your nails in them as he’d slide inside.

Your spent and overstimulated pussy was relaxed enough to welcome him but the burning sensation made your back arch and your eyes roll, you were sure your fingernails made his shoulders bleed but you did not care. The pain was overwhelming and mixed with pleasure, you felt as full as you could and yet he still had more and more to give you, sliding it inside slowly, inch by inch, with a raspy moan and his forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re so tight,” Feyd breathed out, “open your eyes,” he commanded and your eyes fluttered open to stare into his cold and intense gaze. “I want you to look at me when I fill you up with my son,” he added and you nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak but already getting used to his size as if your pussy was made for his cock.

Once you nodded, he started rutting into you with all his force without any warning. You dug your fingernails even deeper into his flesh and moaned out of pleasure as the spasms of pain travelled through your body. His moves were fast and rough, relentless; nearly automatic like he was a machine and not a human. With each stroke he was hitting a spot inside of you that was making you gasp and writhe underneath him, leaving you a drooling and whimpering mess. Feyd used one of his hands to grab your cheeks and squeeze them gently to shut you up before joining his lips with yours in a sloppy and possessive kiss. You could taste yourself on him and you moaned at the taste – it was sweet indeed from all the hormones you had been injected with. It was no wonder he got addicted already, you would get, too. In fact, you explored his mouth with the tip of your tongue in order to clean it off of your juices completely, greedily licking them away from him as you were letting out muffled moans into his mouth.

His hips were brutal and his mouth was aggressive but you wanted nothing else but this. Hearing the stories about his sexual appetite you had been scared but now you wanted to laugh at your old self. It was nothing to fear, it was something to anticipate.

The fact that the act was forbidden, that he was your husband’s young nephew and a rival of some sort, was making it even better. You were welcoming each of his rough thrusts with eagerness, hoping it would fill your already swollen womb. Your whole body was ready to take the seed and as much as you dreaded the idea of carrying your husband’s son under your heart, you found the idea of carrying Feyd-Rautha’s heir much more appealing. If he would be like his biological father, he’d be handsome and fearsome, psychotic and depraved. You’d see your lover in him – not your husband – and it was giving you satisfaction.

Feyd’s hands dropped to your breasts as he tore the fabric of your dress open to expose them for himself to squeeze and pull on your hard nipples. You broke the kiss and cupped his face to push it down to your neck where you needed his open-mouthed sloppy kisses and soft bites of his black teeth. He obeyed and then he moved his head even lower to give the same treatment to your breasts, occasionally accompanying your moans with his low grunts.

You could feel that your second peak was coming close and you wanted to make him finish, too, so you spoke up in a shaky, hazy voice.

“Fill me up, give me a son,” you pleaded in a raspy whisper. “I want it so bad, I want to swell with your baby.”

Feyd moved his head up once again and joined your lips in another kiss – this time it was messy with teeth clashing and uncontrollable moans as the movement of his hips became less steady. In a few short spasmodic thrusts he spilled his thick black cum inside of your pussy. The feeling of his hard cock filling you deep inside straight into your womb was enough to bring you to your second peak as well.

Once he was definitely finished, he broke the kiss between you two and moved up to slide out of you and hide his cock back into his pants. You whined at the empty feeling and watched him put his shirt back on while breathing heavily, still laying on the floor, exposed with your dress torn up and your hair a mess. Feeling like a whore and absolutely loving it.

“You will go to the medic tomorrow and tell him that he had to be mistaken and the seed had made its way inside of you,” he informed you oh-so-formally.

“You’re so sure of your success?” You asked.

“I am,” he leaned in to look at you. “Don’t worry, I shall still visit you at night whenever you invite me. I’m a dog at your command now,” he admitted shamelessly and you sat up, resting on your elbows to take a better look at him.

That fearsome warrior was completely under your spell and all you had to do was to let him taste your pussy. You laughed at him. He had so many other women, yet it was you who made him this way. You knew why. It was because you were a war prize, because you were from Paradise and because you were an off-world Shehzadi. But most importantly he wanted you because you were his uncle’s Baroness. He craved you to spite him.

“And if I command you to never touch me nor speak to me again? I have already used you for my own gain,” you teased and raised one of your feet to caress his thigh with it.

Feyd angrily grabbed your ankle and looked into your eyes intensely.

“Don’t think I will allow my child to be called his heir and watch myself being tossed aside as my son is remembered as Vladimir Harkonnen’s spawn,” he threatened.

You didn’t answer that, unsure about the meaning of his words. He gave you one last angry gaze and pushed your foot away before walking out of the room as if nothing had just happened.

Of course the medic did not believe your words but he pretended that he had. He couldn’t know that Feyd had told you about the fact that he was working for him so he just played along and informed the Baron that he had been mistaken and you were, in fact, finally pregnant with his son.

You had been hoping that once you’d be pregnant, your husband would leave you alone. But no, how wrong you had been. He was now keeping you around him nearly all the time as if you were a precious cargo. He invited many great leaders for official banquets and showed you off. He would sit you on his lap and keep his huge hand on your swollen abdomen proudly.

But you did not even mind that much – not when you knew that the child was not his. You would often catch Feyd-Rautha’s gaze somewhere in the room and give him a mysterious smile as he would give you a smirk. It was your secret, your revenge on The Baron Harkonnen.

And late at night he would creep inside your room and please you however you wanted him to, only to disappear before the first rays of the black sun would hit you, as if he was only a dream or a ghost. You would recognise his smell now everywhere, though. The feeling of his touch differed so much from others. There was nothing but pure and raw desire bonding you two together and yet, when you watched him in the gladiator arena next to your husband, you feared for his life and you would startle at the sight of his opponents attacking him.

You knew that if something or someone threatened your life, Feyd-Rautha would protect you and he was more physically capable of it than his uncle. You needed him alive to keep you and your son safe.

You admired his body and his strength, the amount of his devotion to you and his little revenge plan. He was magnetic and you almost felt lucky to be chosen by him even though it was you having the upper hand in this relationship.

Some nights he was not coming to you, too busy with other things or perhaps too exhausted after the training. You didn’t mind since your body needed a rest as well, especially now when you were six months pregnant already. That night was one of those lonely nights and you had problems with falling asleep, so when you were woken up abruptly in the early morning by your servants, you didn’t hide your annoyance.

“What is it?” You snapped and rubbed your eyes.

“It’s… It’s The Baron, my Lady,” the girl’s black Harkonnen eyes were widened out of fear.

“What about him?” You yawned and sat up, squinting your eyes at the sun creeping inside through the windows. Another servant was already opening the curtains.

“He… He drowned last night, my Lady,” the girl informed you and you froze.

“What?” You asked, blinking slowly, not sure if it wasn’t a dream. “What are you talking about? What do you mean drowned? My husband is dead?”

“Yes, Baroness… He drowned in his bathtub. My condolences,” she bowed down. “You are awaited by the lords for the council,” she informed you.

You were speechless as you allowed them to dress you up in a humble black dress of mourning. They did your hair up and put a light make up on your face to hide the dark bags underneath your eyes. Your mind was spinning with an endless train of thoughts.

One thing was certain – it had been no accident. It had to be Feyd-Rautha’s doing.

And as much as you were relieved to hear about The Baron’s death since he would never touch nor hurt you ever again… you were scared of what would happen now. There was no way the lords would allow you to rule as the widow. You were an off-world woman who had been married to their Baron as a war prize. You were a pet, nothing more. You only hoped to convince them to let your son be an heir as they call someone else a regent in his name. You couldn’t hope even for the regent title.

You were escorted to the council room by the guards and when you entered it, every man inside went silent. They bowed down and gave you their condolences but their eyes held no sympathy. Feyd-Rautha was not amongst them.

“Thank you, my lords,” you took a seat at the end of the long, black table. “It is a great tragedy but thankfully before his death, my husband has managed to produce an heir,” you brought up the topic immediately as the men looked at each other. “What is it?” You asked.

“The boy is not even born yet, my Lady,” one of the lords spoke up and pointed at Rabban. “If we announce Count Rabban the next Baron… or Feyd-Rautha as the late Baron wanted… Well, then they might produce their own heirs in the future. They are both young and capable.”

You got dizzy at those words and the reactions of other men. They seemed to hum in approval.

“So, I am to be tossed aside?” You asked, angrily. “I am carrying your late Baron’s son and you’re tossing me aside? The child inside me is a rightful heir,” you protested.

“And what would you want?” A different lord asked without even addressing you properly. You realised you had already lost. “Perhaps you want to be The Baroness Regent? Over my dead body I will let a woman – let alone from Pairi Daêza – to command me.”

“Enough!” The doors opened and Feyd-Rautha walked inside with his head held high and a playful smirk on his face. The way he confidently walked and scanned the room with his eyes was enough proof for you to know that it was him who had killed your husband. “The child is not yet born, that is a fair point,” he looked at the lord who had addressed the matter, “therefore at the time of my uncle’s death I was still the Na-Baron,” he added and you gasped softly. You couldn’t believe that he betrayed you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek at the realisation how stupid you had been to think you were playing on the same side.

You had never discussed any details of his plan with him. But you were carrying his son and you hoped he would protect you and the child. Apparently, he only tormented you for his own fun. You wanted to cry. You had lost everything.

Then he looked at you and his face softened a little at the sight of your trembling lip and sad eyes.

“I will wed my uncle’s widow to be my Baroness as the old levirate law says,” he announced and you froze out of shock. Levirate was a law about brothers but you guessed an uncle with such an important title counted as that, too.

“Respecting that law is not expected from you, my Lord Baron,” one of the lords informed him. “You can choose any other bride.”

“I can,” Feyd nodded and stood behind your chair as he rested his hand on your shoulder, “but I will not. I’m choosing Baroness (Y/N) Harkonnen to be my bride,” he announced as the lords looked at each other, as surprised as you were. Out of relief you reached your hand up to hold his and squeeze it in a grateful manner. “I also want to make it known,” Feyd raised his voice and everyone went silent as they looked at him, “that the child she is carrying is mine and not my late uncle’s, therefore her son is my heir.”

Your heart started to pound in your chest. The eyes of the lords were staring at you with such intensity that you were afraid they would make a hole inside of you. You swallowed thickly, knowing perfectly well that you just had to admit to your sins now.

“I confirm,” you nodded and they began to whisper between each other. Feyd’s hand squeezed yours.

“If you do not believe me nor The Baroness, the medic might make a public announcement of the paternity test but I do hope you will not humiliate your Baroness like that,” Feyd told them and they all went silent again.

“N-no, my lord Baron,” one of the lords stood up and bowed down in your direction. “We accept the child as yours and we will let others know.”

“I do not want this matter to be discussed nor questioned,” Feyd stated harshly.

“With all respect, brother,” Rabban spoke up suddenly and you laid your eyes on him, curious about what he was going to say, “the matter that has been discussed and questioned so far was our uncle’s fatherhood. The only thing we have found out today was the identity of the man our Baroness has laid with.”

“Rabban,” Feyd barked at him.

“It is quite alright,” you said. “I am rather relieved that I do not have to lie about it anymore as I am proud to carry Feyd-Rautha’s son under my heart,” you smiled at the lords. Some of them rolled their eyes but they still nodded their heads at you.

“Then it’s settled,” Feyd announced. “Go back to your chambers as we settle the details about my uncle’s funeral and the rest of the upcoming ceremonies, my Lady,” he looked down at you and you nodded. He helped you to stand up and placed a kiss upon the palm of your hand before taking your seat by the table.

You were taken back to your chambers accompanied by the guard as you caressed your womb gently, very content with the outcome of that council.

The excitement made you less tired so you just ordered breakfast. Once you were finishing it, the doors to your bedroom opened and Feyd-Rautha entered your chamber. For the first time by daylight, without making it a secret. You stood up from the table and approached him with a smile before you threw your hands around his neck.

“My darling,” you greeted him. “I have doubted you for a short while this morning, you know that?”

“Have I not told you that I would not allow my son to be remembered as his heir?” Feyd smiled at you and pulled you closer by your hips – as close as he could with your swollen womb between you two.

“But the lords were right. You do not have to marry me. I can give you a son, he can be your heir. There is no need to wed me,” you pointed out.

“Don’t you want it?” Feyd tilted his head.

“I’m asking do you want it,” you pointed out.

“I wanted to marry you a year ago when you came here, after I lifted up that veil. Why would I change my mind?” He put his hand on your abdomen and caressed it possessively. “You were supposed to be mine. You would have been mine if he hadn’t wanted to spite me.”

“Why do you want me?” You asked. “As a Baron you could have anyone. One of the Imperial Princesses even.”

“You’ve got what it takes, my Lady. You’re stubborn and strong. I’ve claimed you, you are mine,” he insisted.

You cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with your fingertips. It was hard to believe that he was yours now. Your husband. You would no longer dread these words.

“I will be a good wife to you, Feyd-Rautha,” you promised, genuinely. You did not want any games nor conflict. “I want only one thing from you.”

“And what is it?” He squinted his eyes at you, curiously.

“Safety,” you pleaded. “Of me and my family.”

“Your family is now my family,” he nodded and you sighed with relief. “I want a few things from you, too,” he added and you bit on your lower lip.

“What is it?” You asked.

“You will share your chambers with me,” he started and you nodded, “you will give me more heirs,” he added and you smiled at that, “and you will never mention him again,” he finished sternly.

“Never mention who?” You asked softly and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon his lips. “There is only you and I.”

MASTERLIST

[ashhh-14]

Husband!Aventurine x Reader

Synopsis : "they like diamonds not gold"

Warning : Cool Aventurine (yes that's a warning it's fatal)

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the mumblings of people around you as continued looking though various jewellery displayed in front of you.

"Isn't that the IPC guy's partner?"

"Aeons that's shameless. Buying such expensive things with their husband's hard earned money."

"I wonder how they bagged him to begin with"

You pointed at a necklace in the display cabinet, the employee taking it out and holding the piece in front of you on a velvety cushion.

"Must have opened their legs what else."

Your gaze turned sharp as you sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Taking the necklace in your hand as you raised the pendant to see the emerald sparkle.

You smiled. It matched his clothes.

"Just a shameless gold digger."

You turned around at that, eyes piercing through the two ladies but before you could say anything an arm wrapped around your waist. You looked up to be met with those neon eyes and they smiled at you. His gloved hand thumbing at your forehead to ease the lines your forehead accumulated. You smiled in return, the issue long forgotten as soon as you saw your husband.

"Sorry it took me so long Treasure" He apologised, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he turned you both towards the counter, taking the necklace from your hand and handing it to the man standing behind the counter. A silent gesture for him to bag it up. You looked over your shoulder to see the ladies seething in rage.

Swiping his card over the machine he handed you the small bag, smiling down at you before he inserted the pin.

As you both turned towards the exit Aventurine stopped, his body turning to face the two ladies. "Next time just say that your husbands don't love you enough to spend money on you."

He swung his arm around your shoulder, preparing to leave when an easy going smile took over his features. He slightly turned his head towards them, slipping on his glasses.

"And My Treasure like diamonds not gold."

Aventurine masterlist

Masterlist

Written by yours truly

[cloudzoro]

Forever | Roronoa Zoro ♡

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genre: smut (minors dni)

pairings: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

cw: unprotected sex, established relationship, size kink, marriage proposal, husband and wife are used multiple times, Zoro decides that maybe he does care about love, gross couple flirting, I'm british so I say sun cream instead of sunscreen x

masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper."

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Zoro isn't marriage material. At least, that's what he thinks. He's never been interested in marriage, and he was never interested in sex or relationships until he met you. The natural progression of your relationship from acquaintances to friends to lovers was slow and casual. There were no grand gestures, emotional confessions or anything else from those horrid romance books you read that make Zoro gag. He had never officially asked you out. One day, after months of flirting and sleeping together, Sanji was getting a little too close to you and Zoro barked at the cook to leave his girl alone. You never denied that you were his girl and later on that night, when he was fucking you into the mattress, you confirmed that you were his and only his.

It's a gorgeous day at sea, and you're out on the deck sunbathing with Nami. Zoro observes you as you lean back with your eyes closed. He tries to continue his daily workout but keeps getting distracted by your figure. Usually, he'd go elsewhere to work out, but with the horny cook hanging around the ship, he doesn't want to take any chances.

Not long into Zoro’s workout, he feels your eyes on him. He turns to meet your eyes, and the way you're hungrily watching him makes him flex his muscles a little harder. You watch him for a few minutes before softly calling his name.

“What is it?” he grunts, acting unbothered. You flash him a grin, holding a bottle of sun cream.

“I can't reach my back”, you pout, and He responds with an eyeroll. He walks over to your sun lounger and sits carefully on the edge. He takes the bottle from your hand and squeezes it.

“Turn over for me”, He instructs. Zoro squirts a generous amount of the cream on his hands. His large hands rub and trace everywhere they can over your back. Zoro uses sun cream as if it's lotion to massage you. As his hands work their magic on your tightly-wound back muscles, the cute noises falling from your lips make his cock twitch.

“Do you two mind not doing your awkward foreplay out here?” says Nami as she tries to ignore you and soak up the sun. “y'know I can't reach my back either”, her tone teasing, clearly mocking the two of you.

“What a shame”, Zoro deadpans. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade and gets back to his workout.

“Damn, I guess back rubs are wifey exclusives,” says Nami sarcastically. Neither you nor Zoro respond, but the word ‘wife’ rings in his head for the rest of the afternoon. Zoro's not one for marriage, but he thinks you'd look beautiful in a wedding dress.

A few days later, You're on a new island and pass a jewellery shop. You stop to look at the jewellery in the window, and Zoro stands behind you, eyeing the ring display. Thoughts of slipping a beautiful gold ring on your finger and claiming you as his forever taunt him. You're pirates. You could never have a legally recognised wedding. He makes a note of the ring that had caught your eye and thinks to himself that he must be crazy. If you had told Zoro from a few years ago that he'd be contemplating buying a ring for you and ‘marrying’ you, he'd laugh in your face and call you an idiot.

Once your short adventure on the new island is wrapped up, he tells you to go on back to the ship as he needs to take a detour. He instructs Chopper to take care of you, and the tiny reindeer gives a dramatic salute and promises the swordsman to get you home in one piece.

Zoro arrives home about twenty minutes after you and heads straight to your room, where you're already waiting for him. He thinks about dropping to his knees and asking you to marry him the traditional way, but nothing you've ever done has been traditional. You're literally pirates, after all. His heart squeezes when he sees you waiting for him, and it's almost painful. It passes him off how soft he is for you. You've tamed a demon; all it takes is a pretty smile from you, and he's ready to give up his entire life for you.

When you jump up from your shared bed - Franky had installed a couples suite not long after you'd started dating - to greet him, Zoro immediately backs you to the edge of the bed. He connects his lips to yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth as your hand slides into his hair. He lifts you so you wrap your legs around him, and then he sits on the edge of the bed so you can straddle him. His hands grip your ass and guide you over his hard cock. He groans at the pressure of you over his lap, and it seems you're getting impatient as you whine and rock your hips faster.

Zoro smiles into the messy kiss as he flips you so you're on your back, and he's hovering over you. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping him pressed against you. He reaches to your lounge shorts and pulls them off with your assistance. He then moves to your top, groping your chest.

“Take this off for me, pretty girl”, he rasps, his voice making your pussy throb. You follow through with his request and remove your shirt alongside your bra. He leans down to kiss and lick over the skin of your chest. His thorough worship of your tits and lack of attention to your pussy have you growing desperate for him. He listens in amusement as you whine for him to touch you. Your voice is the prettiest thing he's ever heard. Your voice is as precious to him as the sound of a blade swinging through the air. His life was all swords, blood and guts until you showed up. Sometimes, he resents you and your determination because he's lost all credibility among the crew after being caught behaving softly with you. “Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you, I promise.”

“I just want you”, You whimper, using your legs to push him against your soaked panties.

“you've already got me. I'm right here” You should have known he'd want a more specific answer from you.

“I want your cock, Zoro. Please” He's almost flat against you at this point, body pressing you down into the mattress.

“You'll get my cock, I promise. Just answer something for me first.” He asks, and you try to clear your thoughts as you nod. “You're mine, right? forever?”

You are. In every sense of the word, you are his. He's yours, too. He has been since you flashed your pretty smile at him. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, Zoro feels nervous. You nod, telling him that you'll always be his. He digs around in his pocket, and at first, you don't have time to process what he has in his hands because he kisses you aggressively. You feel cold metal press against your ring finger, and your eyes snap open, pushing Zpro back slightly to talk to him.

“Is that a ring?” you ask, and he sheepishly nods. You've never seen Zoro this shy as he attempts to explain himself.

“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper. You don't have to consider this a marriage proposal. You can call it a promise ring or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I just wanted something to symbolise that you're mine and no one else. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you” You're stunned into silence by his heartfelt words; he's never been this open and vulnerable with anyone. Part of him thinks you've broken him.

“Are you asking me to be your wife?” you ask, finally getting a look at the ring. Zoro nods, dropping his head to your neck. He reminds you it doesn't have to be a marriage thing. You're constantly out getting into fights and life-threatening situations, so he feels a tangible symbol of your relationship might help keep peace of mind. A small thing to ground you when the world around you gets too hectic. You pull Zoro's head from the crook of your neck so you can look him in the eyes. He's embarrassed about his secret sappiness, but he's secure in his feelings about you.

“I'd love that”, You breathe, leaning up to kiss him, and he's slipping the ring onto your finger within seconds. That's it. He's your husband now. When he's done exploring your mouth with his tongue, he moves his wet kisses down to your neck. He leaves a smattering of purple and red marks over your beautiful tits and traces his tongue down your body. During his descent down your body, he whispers. When he kisses your neck, he tells you that he's a lucky man to have someone like you. He tells you you're beautiful and intelligent as he kisses your tummy. When he kisses your thighs, he tells you how much he admires your strength.

His hand grips your underwear, and he tears it from your body. He adjusts so he's lying on his front between your legs. He leans down to lick at your pussy. His mouth feels so good. You try to lift your hips to grind into his mouth, but one of his large hands holds your hips down. He brings his other hand to your mouth and presses two fingers against your lips. You greedily accept his fingers into your mouth, getting them all nice and slick for him. He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them into your hole as he suctions his mouth onto your clit. The combination of his fingers and tongue makes you cum embarrassingly fast, and your legs squeeze his head as the pleasure takes over. Your husband stays in place, licking and fingering you through your high, prepping you for his huge cock. Zoro sits on his knees and admires you when your deep breaths begin to subside. His beautiful wife, laid out in the sheets, looking up at him with a dazed expression. You look satisfied, and that makes pride bloom in Zoro's chest. He removes his trousers to join you in your nakedness and taps the head of his fat cock against your sensitive clit.

“You ready for my cock, baby?” he asks, teasingly rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Please, Zoro” you whine. “Please fuck me.” He'd never say no to you, and as long as he's aboard this ship, no one else is going to either. He pushes his cock, now slick with your juices, into your hole. You both moan at the way your walls have to stretch to accommodate his size. He's no stranger to teasing you, but now that your warm wet cunt is wrapped around his cock, all he can think about is fucking you open. He starts with a brutal pace; he can't help it, your pussy is addicting. He's convinced you have him under some kind of spell.

“Perfect fucking pussy was made for me,” he punctuates each word with a harsh thrust. “This is mine. All mine,” he says.

You try to respond, but you're constantly interrupted by your own moans. Zoro has you whining and gripping the bedsheets beneath you. You feel how deep he is, and the way his hand presses onto your tummy over where his cock is inside you makes your legs tremble. You're close already, and you're rapidly approaching delirium. You're mindlessly babbling about how much you love him and how big his cock is. Zoro may be busy thoroughly fucking your sweet pussy, but he's still listening intently to every slurred word that leaves your mouth.

“I love you too, baby,” he says, responding to your shaky rambling. “You ready to cum for me? he asks with a hungry smile on his face. It always shocks you how Zoro went from someone who couldn't care less about sex to someone who can't go a day without seeing you cream on his cock. You're dangerously close, and Zoro can feel it, too. The way your pussy pulses around his cock. The perfect vice grip of your pussy has him just as desperate. He leans down so your foreheads are touching and rocks his hips harder. You hold on to his biceps as he drills into you, trying to pour all his feelings about you into every thrust.

Your orgasm starts small in your lower stomach, and the satisfying tingly feeling spreads outwards till your hands and feet are numb. You cum hard, gushing around his cock while the squeezing of your walls drags Zoro over the edge with you. He cums inside you, filling up with every last drop of cum. After one last heavy thrust from the large man, he slowly pulls out and lies next to you.

“Y/n,” he says, voice raspy from the moaning and exhaustion. You hum in response to show him you're listening. “if you want, in the next place we dock, we can look for a proper registry office”, he says.

“Yeah, because they're gonna see two pirates with high bounties and scary nicknames and let us in,” you say sarcastically, covering the fact that you really would like that.

“I'm sure we can find at least one,” he says. You hold up your left hand, showing off your ring.

“This is enough for me, though”, you muse, admiring the jewellery.

“Agreed” Zoro lifts his left hand, and a gold wedding band sits on his finger. You hadn't even noticed because you were so busy getting ravaged by him.

“I love you,” he says. He didn't care much for love until he met you. “You're mine, forever.”

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thank you so much for reading and enjoying!!!

slip me a comment, dm or ask if you want to be added to the taglist! (specify fandom!)

likes, comments and reblogs are all greatly appreciated. I read every comment and tag and they mean a lot ♡

taglist: @priv-rose

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Season Two}

Season one

Chapter Seventeen - End of the season

♡♡♡

The duke and duchess were holding the last ball of the season. It was going to be a grand event to be certain. The whole ton would be there.

You were wearing your last gown made for the season. It was beautiful. A shade of green. It had little jewels sewn into it, so it would sparkle while you danced.

You looked forward to seeing Thomas.

Though you had not secured an engagement within the time of the season, you hoped that you may continue to correspond with Thomas while he was in the country, and perhaps go see him at his family estate, that he may ask.

Your mother would be so proud.

Your maid did your hair and helped the jewellery. It was going to be a spectacular season finale. You could feel it in your bones.

Hastings House was beautiful.

You walked with your mother around the fountain to the main entrance. The ball was to be held in a small courtyard in the middle of the house. Daphne had done a splendid job.

There was a painting of the duke and duchess on display. Painted bt Henry Granville. It was beautifully done.

You stand off to the side while your mother chats with guests. You watch people waltz.

Violet arrives with Eloise. Daphne goes to talk to her sister.

You keep your eyes peeled for any sign of Thomas.

The next to come through the door are the Featheringtons. You cannot deny your relief at seeing Penelope again. Granted, she is wearing yellow, but she is here.

One dance ends, and the next dance begins.

You take a stroll about the ball. Thomas has yet to arrive, it seems. You smile at Penelope as you pass her. She smiles back, too, seemingly surprised you had paid her any attention. People usually don't.

You see Colin parting ways with Benedict across the room. Your eyes follow the second eldest Bridgerton as he walks.

He hasn't noticed you.

Maybe that's for the best...

No.

No. He is your friend and you want to talk to him. You are about to make your way across the room when a servant comes up to you with a note on his tray. You look at him confused.

"For you, ma'am."

You look at the note and pick it up. The servant leaves, and you unfold the paper. The handwriting belongs to Thomas.

I must apologise. I am to leave for York immediately. I shall not be at the Hastings ball. Do have fun on my behalf.

- T. Hardy

You stare at the note in silence. He's not coming at all. He must have left earlier in the day. Perhaps in a rush. You had been at the Bridgertons that afternoon, so if he called the house, you wouldn't have seen him.

If he had called to the house, the butler would have told you, or even your mother. He did not call... So he must have been in a rush.

You sigh. You fold the note back up and leave it on a tray of a passing waiter. They can dispose of it for you.

Glancing up, you find two blue eyes gazing at you. Benedict has seen you. Now you're definitely going to go talk to him. You make your way across the courtyard and come to stand beside Benedict.

"Hello."

"Hello," he replies softly.

Silence fills the space between you, and you turn to the dancers to occupy yourself, and to keep from looking at him again.

"Is Lord Hardy not with you?" Benedict couldn't help asking. He was surprised to see you standing alone tonight.

"No. He left London already. Back to York."

Benedict is even further surprised by the information. He thought Hardy would stay until the very end. He believed the man to be falling for you.

"I see."

You look down and try to keep yourself in check. "I thought maybe I had finally found someone. Someone who perhaps desried me, but it seems I was wrong."

Benedict keeps quiet.

"I wasn't enough for anyone this season. I tried, and I failed. Doesn't matter, I suppose. Next year might be different."

"You didn't fail."

You look up at Benedict. "I didn't secure a proposal or even managed to keep a man interested enough to at least say goodbye before he left."

"You might see him again," he says.

"Somehow, I feel not."

Benedict feels for you. You have been nothing but glorious and wonderful and yourself all year round. You wiggled yourself into the lives of his family and became a pleasant consistent in their lives. You encouraged his passions and made him feel a little more like himself.

"You didn't fail," he says again.

You look up at him and crack a smile. "Next year then."

He nods.

The music changes and the floor is cleared. You notice the duke and duchess approach each other. You knew something had happened between them, but didn't know what. Yet, here they were about to dance for the ton.

You smile at Daphne as dances with her husband. They look like such a handsome couple. You envy them. You envy what they have.

The way they look at each other. How close he holds her to him.

Love.

It is so rare. It's so rare that very few people ever get to feel it for real. You want it. You want to know what it feels like to have, well, a soulmate. The one person made just for you. To love and to hold. To cherish. To share every moment with.

Benedict shifts hisngaze from his sister to look at you. He can see the way you watch Daphne and Simon dance.

Benedict's had fun. He played around. Tested the waters. But looking at you right here and right now makes him rethink everything.

Genevieve has certainly been fun. Yet, if you were going to try again for your own sake next year, perhaps he should, too. You, who inspired his art. Inspired him to try harder and practise more.

Perhaps next season, you will both benefit and grow more as people.

As the waltz continues, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance brings you to look up at the sky. The heavens open and rain pours. You gasp softly as the cool droplets hit your skin.

Benedict instinctively reaches out for you and guides you under the canopy toward the house. You look up at him and then turn back to the ball. Everyone else does the same, seeking shelter from the rain.

Everyone but Daphne.

Simon is holding her hand as if he was guiding her to shelter, but Daphne stops him from doing so. She closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sky, letting the rain fall.

She looks beautiful.

Lady Danbury stops anyone else from going out into the rain. "Everyone... I believe this evening is complete. We shall thank our gracious hosts for such a splendid soiree in the morning. Now, go. Out."

Everyone begins to leave.

Benedict slips his hand into yours and guides you out. You look up at him quietly.

Daphne and Simon have some talking to do.

Benedict guides you through the house and outside to the carriage. It's still raining. His hair sticks to his head and you giggle.

"What?"

"Nothing..." You smile.

He gives you a boyish grin. He helps you into the carriage and stands around in the doorway.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks.

"You leave for the country tomorrow."

"Are you not also?"

"Me and Mama are to stay in London. We don't have a country house to go to in the summer."

Benedict didn't know that. "Did your father not own an estate?"

"We had to sell it when he died. He left us with a great deal of dept."

He realises in that moment how much he doesn't know about you. You're so much more complicated than he originally thought.

Your mother clears her throat and Benedict moves to let her into the carriage.

"See you soon, I hope?" He looks at you.

"I'll write."

He nods and watches the footman close the door. He steps back as the carriage leaves, and Benedict finds himself a little lonely.

♡♡♡

When you rise the next morning, you have no idea of anything that happened within the Featherington house. Lord Featherington died. He was killed.

Penelope spent much of the morning in tears. Elosie had gone to visit her.

Marina went with Sir Philip Crane. The brother of her deceased love who never made it back home. She was to marry him. At least she could have her child and be looked after.

You had decided to go to the Bridgerton house before they all left. It was the least you could do for Benedict and his family. They had all seemed pleased to see you when you arrived, and that made you feel warm inside.

Colin was leaving for Greece. Another reason for Penelope to be upset. Colin was going to be so far away travelling the world.

You waved him off as he rode away on his horse. Benedict had his arm locked with yours.

As the rest of the family headed inside, you struck up conversation with Daphne, Simon, and Anthony. While the duke and duchess are staying in London a little longer, it would seem Anthony intends to find a Viscountess.

That leaves all of you stunned.

Though he follows it up by saying he will keep love out of it to keep things simple. Daphne frowns at that. As do you.

"Perhaps he will learn," she says.

"Perhaps not," you reply.

Eloise hurries over to her brother, who is about to climb onto a horse. You had already said farewell to him.

"Give my regards to Madame Delacroix." She says to Benedict.

"Your regards will have to wait, El," he responds. "She is making a short trip to France."

"Oh? Not going to say goodbye to her?" Eloise asks.

"I did. Last night, if you must know."

Benedict had gone to see her after he bid you goodnight. He went to say goodbye. After seeing you at the ball last night, he decided to change his mind on a few things.

Granted, the goodbye was a long one. He spent a couple of hours at the shop, but nothing untoward happened.

"You said goodbye to her?"

"After Daphne's ball, yes." Benedict then mentioned he spent most of the ball with you.

Eloise worked out that if Madame Delacroix had been at the shop all night. That couldn't have been her in the carriage when Eloise went to protect Whistledown.

Eloise headed back inside.

"Are you coming?" Benedict calls.

You turn and see him on his horse. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He chuckles.

"Where?"

"One last ride around the square before me and my family leave for the summer." He offers.

You smile and look up at him. "I'm not dressed for riding.

"No matter. He offers you his hand."

"Benedict... we cannot create a scandal at the very end of the season."

"Why not?" He grins

"Because I said so."

He laughs.

"Very well. I'm glad you came to see us." He says.

"Me too. Have a lovely summer, Benedict."

"You too." He speaks your name softly, smiling. You both stay like that for a moment, looking at each other. The moment is broken we spurs his horse onward.

You watch him go with a smile.

You look around the square and sigh softly.

Next season was going to be different. It had to be.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

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@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

[cheollipop]

heists and celebrations

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader x choi san

w.c.: 3.9k

tags: smut, they're all criminals/partners in crime, criminal behaviour (theft), mentioned boxer!san and his manager!wooyoung, some reckless driving

with the stolen necklace secured around your neck, wooyoung slumped back in his seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel while his eyes remained focused on the overhead mirror, watching his two partners celebrate another successful heist in the back of his van.

warnings: semi-public sex, van sex, really fucking filthy sex (genuinely disgusting), dom!woosan, sub!reader, some jealousy, reader is wearing red lipstick and it gets everywhere, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, cum sharing, spit kink, praise, degradation (reader is called a slut once), a cute little breeding kink, a sprinkle of breath play (barely any), some begging, overstimulation, nicknames (sannie; youngie; baby, darling, sweetheart, love, good girl, pretty girl), wooyoung watches them fuck the whole time, and teases san because he's cute when riled up

A/N: I've had this fic idea in my notes since the very first woosan teaser dropped so I'm really glad I was finally able to write it out! ( ´∀ `) though challenging fsr, I really enjoyed writing the smut for this one. happy reading! ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Walking past the metal detectors, you raised your phone to peek at your reflection, making sure the glitter on your eyelids and the red painting your lips were intact, smacking them together once before walking further into exhibit.

Your footsteps slowed as you passed the broad, arched doorway and entered a wider gallery with accessories from numerous eras lining the walls, people crowding in front of the displays. Your eyes trailed over the diamonds and gold encased within the glass boxes, the overhead lights reflecting the luxury accessories. In any other heist, your eyes would remain forward, playing the role of a mere passerby minding their own business. But today, you were just another visitor in this exhibit, ogling at the jewellery on display. A quick, discrete scan of the room was enough to find you your target – standing near the wall to your left, the blonde head of hair displacing him in the monochrome room.

Just as you were about to move towards the tall figure, your gaze unintentionally flitted to the right, colliding with feline eyes staring right back at you from the other side of the room – the man standing idly in a uniform too big for him, bruises from last night’s match tainting his angular features. You twisted your body in the other direction, heeled boots clacking over the polished tile with confident strides, your eyes meeting the blonde man’s and dragging his attention off the rowdy school kids in the far corner. You waited until his gaze fell on you to dig the tip of your tongue into the corner of your mouth, blinking innocently as you approached him, your eyes moving down to read the ID card hanging off his neck.

Security Guard Song Mingi

Stepping into his personal space, your hand flew to his shoulder and you drew your eyebrows together in feigned distress. “Oh, thank God! Sir, could you please help me?”

Mingi’s head lowered to eye the hand resting delicately over his chest, looking back up to meet your anxious eyes. “S-sure, yes, of course," he stuttered when your fingers tightened around his lapel. "What can I help you with?"

You twisted your body and walked backwards until you hit the wall behind him, slumping against it and exhaling deeply. “My friend,” you paused, looking up at him now that he’d turned his back to the rest of the room. You blinked faux tears into your eyes, quivering your bottom lip ever so slightly while you spoke, “I’ve been looking for her for hours. Could you please help me find her, Sir?”

You watched Mingi’s ears shift hues, his head turning to the side as he coughed awkwardly. The bright red blurred in your peripheral as you stared ahead, nodding discretely at the idle figure across the room and watching it slip past the restricted ribbon closing off a section of the exhibit, looking back at Mingi when broad shoulders disappeared behind the corner.

“She said she’d meet me at the Tiffany and Co. section, but she never showed up. She won’t even answer her phone,” you leaned forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm, looking up at him with wide eyes, glassy with simulated concern. “I’m really worried about her, Sir. Please help me?”

--

Nimble fingers worked over the display case’s lock, occasionally looking back at the doorless entrance to confirm he was still in the clear. Moving his attention back to the small keyhole, he worked the pick and wrench inside with steady hands, the flashlight held between his lips reflecting off the glass. A whispered curse vibrated around the flashlight when his jacket sleeve slid down his arm, covering the hand holding the pick – along with the bloody scrapes and bruises colouring his knuckles – but he was too far in to back out now, working the lock with the fabric draped over it. After a few more tries, a muted click sounded and the glass door swung open.

Cat-like eyes raised off the picked lock to examine the diamond necklace hanging off the jewellery stand, studying the angle at which the light bounced off the large stones. Reaching forward, he carefully lifted the necklace with his index and thumb around the clasp, securing it in the felt bag he’d pulled out of his blazer before tucking it back inside. Digging his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out an identical replica – cheap moissanite bedazzling the silver – and intricately placed it inside the case, adjusting it over the stand before closing the glass door and listening for the soft click of its automatic lock.

Pulling the flashlight out of his mouth, he switched it off and patted his breast pocket once before walking back towards the entryway. A quick peek into the short hallway outside to ensure it was empty followed by quick steps past the red ribbon sealing off the section he had been in, San squinted at the bright overhead lights as he made it back into the main gallery, rooting himself in his previous position just in time for five suited men to make their way into the big room. Their conversation continued as they walked past San, nodding in acknowledgement before making their way over the restriction ribbon and through the short hallway, grease from the sandwiches they’d had for lunch coating their moving lips.

The familiar sonance of your laugh drew his attention to the wide entrance, his eyes finding yours over the blonde security guard’s shoulder before trailing down to study the arm draped over your waist. The plan was for you to guide him away from this gallery and into another, but there you were, barely an inch separating you and the tall man. San’s eyebrow twitched at the proximity, but more so at the dumb smile splitting his face in half while his other arm points towards where your ‘friend’ was supposedly waiting for you. Meeting your gaze once again, he gave you a firm nod before solemnly staring ahead.

With a flirty smile and a few bats of your eyelashes, you slipped a fake number into Mingi’s phone and walked away, the guard barely noticing you walking in the opposite direction of which he pointed you in.

San’s eyes flitted to the antique clock hung up on the wall across from him, turning around just in time to watch a man with a sharp nose and jet-black hair approach him. Quickly glancing at his ID card, San bowed slightly and began walking away as his ‘shift’ came to an end.

“Wait,” the deep baritone halted San’s movements, twisting his torso to look back at the guard. “Let me see your ID,” he reached a hand out, palm up and expecting.

San blinked once, twice, before pulling the lanyard off his neck and handing it to the man in front of him, turning his body to face him fully. The grim man examined the card, flipping it over a few times before sliding it back into San’s hand.

“Good work today, Yunho,” he gave him a tight smile which San reciprocated with a small bow before he moved away to stand where San had been all evening.

Stepping out of the stuffy exhibit and into the chilly night, San inhaled deeply, walking down the small steps and reaching into his blazer for the felt bag, swiftly stuffing it into his slacks before shrugging off the loose uniform and slinging it over his shoulder. He strutted down the block, his lips pursed as he whistled mindlessly, his soiled tank top sticking to his body with the night breeze blowing over his skin.

A few minutes of walking led him to a familiar convenience store, the lights flickering weakly and the table set out the front swaying with the light wind. Casually peeking over his shoulder, he made sure no one was following him before turning a corner, your familiar figure – resting against the graffitied wall – waiting for him in the damp alleyway. You pushed yourself off the grimy concrete, a smile stretching your lips when your eyes zeroed in on the felt bag pinched between two of his fingers.

Grabbing onto the thin material of his tank top, you pushed San backwards until his body crashed into the wall, the red on your lips transferring to his when you pressed your mouths together, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your taste buds as you licked over the corner of his lip. San’s fingers wrapped around your nape, inhaling deeply before parting his lips and running his tongue over your bottom teeth. Cold fingers tickled the sides of your neck, a heavy weight falling over your collarbones while San’s tongue pressed against yours. One of your hands untangled from the material of his top, running over your decolletage until your fingers made contact with the cool silver and curved over the slope of the large diamonds. The felt bag – now empty and worthless – fell into the puddle by your feet, the malodor of sewage masked by the hunger in San’s eyes, his hands wandering over your body while he devoured you.

A loud honk from the van parked down the alley cut your fit of passion short. You giggled at San’s irritated griping as you made your way to the vehicle, the metal surface littered with dents of various sizes and the colourful lettering chipping off the white paint. You walked past San as he pulled at the back handles, skipping your way to the front and watching the door fly open, sliding into the passenger seat as Wooyoung retreated back into his.

“Welcome back,” he flicked the tip of your nose, his eyes fixed on the glimmering stones hanging off your neck. “I’m guessing we can skip the debrief?” A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Looping two fingers around the silver band, he tugged you towards him, the clasp digging into the back of your neck as some of the lipstick still painting your lips smeared over Wooyoung’s, his tongue gliding over yours to flatten over the roof of your mouth.

The curtain behind you slid open, San’s deep grumble obscured by your heavy breathing. “Ya! I worked my ass off to get that. If you wanna pull that hard, just buy her a leash,” he propped his forearm on the back of the seat, resting his chin over it to study the red smudged over Wooyoung’s lips.

“Worked our asses off,” you complained.

“No, I worked my ass off while you were busy flirting with that prick.”

You could see Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk, his questioning gaze lasting only a second before he parted from you with a final kiss, letting go of the necklace and slumping back in his seat to turn the engine on. “Leave her alone, Sannie. If you wanted to be praised for doing your job right, you should’ve just said so,” he pressed his foot down on the pedal, reversing out of the alleyway before digging his palm into the steering wheel and turning it twice to move onto the empty road.

The pout on your lips faded when your eyes met San’s, angling his chin to point at Wooyoung, the silent communication bringing a shared smile to your lips.

“Youngie,” you tugged on his sleeve, leaning over the console to get closer to him.

“Yeah, baby?” his eyes remained trained on the road, a few cars driving alongside him on the dark highway.

San chuckled breathily, “I think our pretty girl wants to thank you for the ride. We couldn’t have pulled this off without you. Right, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, gliding your palm up his thigh and inwards to tease at his clothed crotch. He glanced over at you, his teeth peeking through his parting lips, the corners curled upwards.

“Oh really? Is there anything else you want to thank me for?”

“Thank you for getting rid of that Yunho guy, we would’ve been in trouble if he had been there,” your fingers trailed over the zipper, circling his button before popping it open.

“Mm, that’s right. Come on now, sweet girl, thank me properly,” Wooyoung slumped further down in his seat, widening his legs and dropping one hand off the steering wheel to give you space.

Just as you freed his half-hard length from the confines of his boxers, San’s hand cupped the back of your head and pushed you down. Your torso bent over the console, the gear stick digging into your waist by the time San let go of you.

You pulled away slightly, fingers wrapped around his base and tongue rolled out to place kitten licks over his cockhead. Wooyoung peeked down at you to follow the line of drool dripping off your tongue to lubricate his cock, snapping his eyes back up to the road with a guttural groan squeezed your fist around him. You pressed your lips to his tip, placing your hands over his upper thighs and moving back to admire the painted outline of your lips – the last of your lipstick colouring it red.

When you deemed him hard enough, your lips closed around his leaking head, giving him a gentle suck to feel his thighs contract before taking him further into your mouth. You nuzzled your nose into the hair around his base and relaxed your throat, flattening your tongue over the underside of his cock and reveling in the tight grunts it elicited from above.

A loud horn blared from the lane beside yours, Wooyoung’s vision unblurring and his palm hurriedly gliding over the steering wheel to adjust the swerving van. San snickered behind him, partly at your muffled coughs around the younger man’s cock as the rough steering jerked your body around. You pull away to breathe once the vehicle settled, inhaling deeply and clearing your throat, the bitter taste of precum on your tongue.

“I don’t think she’s thanking you hard enough, Youngie,” San tsked behind you, palming over his clothed cock as he took in your red eyes and sniffling nose.

“Mm, I think you’re right,” the arm resting idly over the console raised, fingers tangling in the hair at your nape and pushing your head downwards until the warmth of your mouth engulfed him once again, soft groans escaping through gritted teeth as your throat constricted around his tip. With the hand in your hair, he began moving you over his cock, bobbing your head and noting the weight of the necklace adoring your neck falling over his thigh every time his tip brushed against your uvula. “Fuuuuck, that’s my good girl.”

The outline of his vein slid over your tongue, pulsing as you took him down your throat. You could hear the slick movement of San’s hand over his cock, his eyes moving between your stretched lips and Wooyoung’s parted ones, soft, breathy moans muffled under the wind rushing through the open window. You felt him twitch inside your mouth, the familiar clench of his abdomen egging you on, taking him all the way and hollowing your cheeks. The van veered to the left again, Wooyoung’s eyes barely open as pleasure rushed through his veins with every squeeze around his cockhead. You swallowed around him once, twice, before gagging around the hot ribbons of white shooting down your throat. The limp fingers in your hair regained their strength, pushing your head down while he rolled his hips into your mouth, your jaw going slack as he used you to milk out the last of his cum.

San’s eyes fluttered shut to take in the melodies playing through Wooyoung’s parted lips – rough grunts paired with airy moans while he fucked the last of his load into your mouth, pulling you off him to wipe the tip of his cock over your face, a line of cum smeared over your cheek. A few seconds of muted shuffling passed before saltiness consumed San’s tastebuds, your mouth roughly pressing against his, tongue breaching his lips to share some of Wooyoung’s release. His Adam’s apple bobbed, eagerly swallowing down the tangy liquid before diving in for more, pushing you further into him with a hand to the back of your head. A throaty moan vibrated against your lips, San’s cock lurching in his limp fist as he sucked the last of Wooyoung’s load off your tongue. Pulling away, you grabbed San’s jaw firmly and moved your head closer to spit into his open mouth, a mixture of your spit and his marbled with milky white reflecting the passing streetlights before disappearing down his throat.

“Wooyoung, fuck,” he spoke, words slurred from the tight grip you have on his jaw, rolling his wrist around his leaking cockhead. “Pull over. I need her right fucking now.”

--

The van jumped over a speedbump, the driver too distracted to slow down, eyes trained on the overhead mirror instead of the road as two bodies moved steadily in the reflection. Two fingers twisted the volume knob to the left, silencing the music to revel in the harmony of moans surging from the back of the van.

The worn-down mattress was anything but comfortable, your dripping pussy adding to the stains decorating it. Looking over to the side, your eyes settled on the discarded boxing gloves from the night before, splotches of maroon flaking off the faux leather. One of San’s hands cupped the back of your head, pushing your face down while he pounded into you from the back, his other pulling at the necklace around your neck, the diamonds pressing into your skin to form thin crescents.

Wooyoung scoffed at the sight – red spreading from the soiled collar of San’s tank top and up to his neck, beads of sweat rolling down his skin and sinking into the cheap cotton. “What happened to all your hard work, hm?” his eyes rolled down to San’s white knuckles, wrapped tightly around the accessory restricting your airflow.

“Shut up,” he spat, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as he pumped his cock between your fluttering walls. The hand covering the back of your head slid down your spine to squeeze at your waist, his blunt nails stabbing into your heated flesh while husky grunts vibrated through his throat.

Wooyoung’s eyes shifted to your face, concealed as you looked over to the side, your lips parted with drool pooling under your head. “Aw, I think Sannie got a little jealous earlier. Right, sweetheart?”

The words reduced to mere sounds in your head, the syllables meshing as San’s cockhead pistoned into your g-spot, barely registering the rough fingers tangling into the hair at your crown before sharp pain seared through your scalp, your chest lifting off the tattered mattress and neck craning as San angled your face upwards. You sucked in deep breaths now that the silver band wasn't digging into your neck, choking around broken cries of pleasure. Hooded eyes studied your face in the small mirror – pupils dilated, tears and glitter eyeshow staining your heated cheeks with saliva trickling down your chin, body jerking forward every time San’s hips slammed into yours, his cock stretching you open around his girth.

“'Don’t think she can answer,” San rasped, his eyes dropping to watch the flesh of your ass ripple every time he drove into your clenching cunt. “Ah- So fucking tight for me.”

Wooyoung’s fingers squeezed around the steering wheel, “is he fucking you good, baby?” The corners of his lips twitched with a concealed smirk, “or is my pretty slut still thinking about that man’s cock?”

Your brain short-circuited, shots of burning pleasure soaring through your veins and forcing your eyes shut. “it’s good, s-so good,” your speech was barely coherent, moans spilling out of you as San continued to fuck you through Wooyoung’s interrogation.

“What about my second question?” San’s eyes flew towards the mirror to meet Wooyoung’s, clenching his jaw so tight it bordered on painful, the younger man smiling to himself over how easy it was to rile San up.

San rammed his cock inside you, holding it deep within your cunt while he bent at the waist to whisper in your ear, the deep baritone of his voice nearly masked under your pathetic moaning, “be a good girl and answer Youngie’s question, or have I already fucked you dumb?"

“I-I’m not! ‘Love Sannie’s cock so much- hnngh!” your upper body flopped onto the mattress, your scalp burning under the palm San had flattened over your head, fingers rubbing soothing lines over your roots while he ground his cock into your heat.

“That’s right,” he pressed his lips to your slick shoulder and gave you a harsh thrust, rolling his hips once, twice before pulling off you. His hands slid down your body to grab at your hips, dragging you back over his length with a grip tight enough to promise bruises. One of his knees nudged against your inner thigh to spread your legs even further, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he began hammering his cock into you. “Love my cock so much you’ll let me breed this tight pussy, won’t you, darling?

“Nghh- fuck! Sannie, please-”

“Give it to me, love, ‘wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” the tautness of his voice, strained as he chased his orgasm with sloppy thrusts, was enough to send you over the edge.

Your vision went black as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, thighs shaking while you your orgasm rushed through you. A succession of curses and San’s name rolled off your tongue, followed by desperate pleas for him to come as he frantically humped your overstimulated cunt. Your body jolted as pain mixed with pleasure, your vision blurring with tears while San used you like a cocksleeve, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, whimpered praise falling off his tongue – a melody of ‘just a little more’ and ‘you can take it’ sending shivers down your spine.

You felt him split you open thrice before a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly, his cock twitching between your fluttering walls as he unloaded his seed inside you. His arms wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his shuddering chest while he grinded into your used cunt, draining himself of every last drop. Delicate hands smoothed over your sides at the pained whimper you released into the dungy mattress, San’s softening cock slipping out of you and making way for a stream of his cum to trickle out of your gaping hole. He took a few seconds to moon over the mess he'd created before pursing his lips and adding to it, dropping a wad of spit onto your drenched pussy, your hips jolting when a calloused thumb ran through the fluids painting your folds.

You barely noticed the van making a sharp turn, the engine going silent half a minute later and drawing your attention to the front, a rest stop sign shining through the windshield. Wooyoung’s head poked through the gap between the seats, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sweaty bodies sprawled out in their own mess. He lifted his arm to hurl a roll of cash at San, his eyes remaining fixed on your twitching form as he imagined the steady stream of cum making its way down your thighs.

“Sannie, go grab some food and water. I think I need to be thanked a little more.”

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[astrogre]

Aphrodite(1388) Beauty Indicators

What counts as Aphrodite(1388) beauty indicators:

Aphrodite in 1st house (YOU are appealing, this asteroid is simply who you are as this house represents you as a whole, physically and personal identity)

Aphrodite in 10th house (this is how you publicly appear to others at large, so if you have an asteroid here it kind of shows those themes come to mind in general when people think of you and what your reputation is associated with, imagine yourself as a concept, you perceived as a brand)

Aphrodite Conjunct Venus (your beauty and the way you style express yourself, you express your love and sense of beauty in similar ways, Venus also shows where we are most beautiful therefore the things that make you most beautiful are like Aphrodites)

VERY Strong indicators:

Aphrodite Conjunct ASC (it further amplifies because you become the physical embodiment of Aphrodite, no longer just a hint but may even be mistaken for her your form of expression and how you come across to all and most importantly yourself is just like Aphrodite)

Aphrodite Conjunct MC (same as 10H however it’s even more prominent, your Aphrodite characteristics may manifest or be needed for the job you do as well)

Aphrodite conjunct is at 0-2 orbs. Closer the orb more exactly like your appearance. 0 orb means Aphrodite is YOU to a T. Your physical appearance/public image/expression of oneself, if described with an adjective would be the asteroid itself.

2 or more of any of the previous Aphrodite indicators this asteroid is far too prominent in your chart to be an adjective to describe your beauty, it’s more like an epithet.

What kind of beauty you have:

- You embody the ideal beauty standards

- You shapeshift to appeal to the senses and pleasures of individuals who look at you

- People may struggle to define you by your appearance because you come across so differently to each person

- The allure (the buzz and positive talk of you) stands out more than what you put out to reality especially for Aphrodite asteroid in 10H/conjunct to MC

- You’re beauty is so rare that it’s unbelievable, people that hear of you described by others who know you may think you’re a myth or not real like a catfish or someone pretending to be real. Eg someone looking at your instagram may think you’re not real or if a guy is explaining you to his friends you sound too good to be true especially from the male gaze. That is until they meet you and realise you live up to their expectations and then the rumours of you further amplify as even MORE talk of you. If you start dating around jumping from man to man, people will gush over you

- You may pretend to be modest, demure and coincidentally sexually attractive yet your sexual attractiveness is purposefully intentional

this is based on aphrodites Greek and Latin scholars who wrote about the famous statue at Knidos on which it is based, says that Aphrodite’s facial expression and gesture show ‘false modesty’. She purposefully displays false modesty to look like her nudity and sexual allure is unintentional and just happens to be on her

- You show your beauty through your clothing perfumes and hair accessories. Aphrodite wore perfumed and silken garments, a crown of gold or flowers in her hair, and had expensive jewellery covering her body

- As time goes on you are more sexualised, no joke if you guys made a sex tape in your elder years you’d be like a trending milf dilf, especially with Capricorn, Saturn and 10H Aphrodite

Aphrodites depictions were always fully clothed until as centuries progressed the men that idolised her wanted to make her wear less and less, become sexier and sexier, they project their lustful thoughts on her and Aphrodite viewed it as compliments

- No matter what people may say about you, they cannot shake or change the fact that you are beautiful, they may also bring that up when talking about you behind your back if in 12H conjunct ascendant

- You have feminine curves which are shown best through draped clothing, you look best in clothes that drape to your skin and hug your curves

- No matter what you wear people will always see you nude or want to, they may sexualise you and you may subconsciously enjoy it because you feel desired and it feels good to know you’re making others feel pleasure just from looking at you

- You look best naked, your breast and hips may be most prominent and something men recognise you for and what garners admiration from women too. Women may look up to you as the standard and what they wished the looked like

Source: the idealization of womanhood in all her femininity; the Aphrodite sculpture, Praxiteles was mainly responsible for establishing the type-sensuous in its soft curves and voluptuousness.” (Morford 180). As told by Morford, the exaggeration of body parts, breasts mostly, became Aphrodite’s spotting mark in art

- You could have long hair, or your hair can be styled in a different way to other women, very distinct, it can be different from what others expect, your hair may be “immodest” like it looks like it’s uncovered, not domestic, you may put a lot accessories on it or do something specifically that makes it stand out and look better, it’s kind of “unintentionally” erotic.

- You look best in bodies of water, playing with your hair in water, when you’re showering, wringing your hair dry, you may get a lot of stares when you go to the beach just relaxing, or if you’re swimming. It’s something people could watch for a long time

- You love to accessorise excessively

- Men change the way they see you physically from your body to your face and hair, all just to fit their imagined ideal beauty standards. For an example: say a man may prefer brunettes, if you’re blonde, that man will imagine you with brown dark hair and romanticise it, from that point onward he can no longer see you as blonde no matter how blonde you are because the fantasy of an idolised you is so overwhelming

- Men fantasise about you a lot, women too. You invoke fear/admiration into women because of your appearance

- You represent the most ideal physical traits, you can be compared as the standard for others and people may put you on a pedestal so high that makes others want to be where you are but knowing they simply cannot as it’s not in their nature. Because competing against you would destroy them and they do not compare

- You may make people feel ashamed of themselves because you’re so uplifted and idealised by many

- You can adapt to the taste of the target/person you’re trying to seduce

- Your clothes and the way you style yourself enhance your features and make you look like someone who is wealthy and important of high status/nobility

- You are one of the most physically desired people to others

- Your physical appearance isn’t the only thing that makes you so beautiful, it’s the fact that everyone finds you desireable no matter who is looking.

Honestly when I think of Aphrodite I think of someone who is overly sexualised by men. Like they collectively came together and said THIS is what we like. She is the image of sex and desire because they put her there. And she likes it, which is probably why she is labelled as the god of sex, pleasure, love and beauty, it’s because she accepts all kinds of admiration from anyone. No matter how degrading or intensely it manifests. Do you too also accept love no matter how sexually degrading or intense it is? Do you have a tendency to expect to be glorified?

Source:

Link to the historical study of Aphrodites physical appearance

Homer, for example, said that the goddess could be recognized by her shining eyes and “desirable breasts.” Other writers gave her the epithet “Smile-Loving,” indicating that she often had a happy expression. More often, writers described Aphrodite’s beauty through her clothing. She wore perfumed and silken garments, a crown of gold or flowers in her hair, and had expensive jewelry covering her body. most of what we know about Aphrodite’s looks must be drawn from the art of the period.

gain, the representations leave much room for interpretation. The one aspect they have in common is that, fittingly, Aphrodite was shown as beautiful.

This usually meant that she had feminine curves, which were often accentuated by closely-draped clothing. When she was dressed it was often only partially, but the goddess was just as often shown in the nude.

She usually had long hair that was left at least partially down, in contrast to the more demure, covered hair of matronly and domestic goddesses. A favorite subject of classical artists was the emergence of Aphrodite from the sea, in which she was sometimes shown wringing the water out of her long hair.

Sculptors had more freedom than painters to imagine the goddess in different poses and situations. Often these poses emphasized her feminine shape and attractiveness to the male gaze. As the goddess of beauty, she represented the most desirable female form possible.

She often changed her appearances to suit her purposes.

This shape-shifting also allowed artists to portray her in a way that reflected the physical idea of their own time and place. Aphrodite could have dark hair in one place and be blonde in another.

Thus, our modern interpretation of Aphrodite has been filtered through the ideals of female beauty from not only Greece and Rome, but long after as well. Medieval artists gave her a high forehead and Renaissance painters showed her with flowing blonde hair because those were the ideals of their times. The written descriptions of Aphrodite were open-ended enough to allow artists to show her in a way they thought was beautiful for centuries. While later artists were influenced by the paintings and sculptures of Rome and Greece, they had the license to show the goddess of beauty in a way that made sense within their own cultures.

Most often, Aphrodite’s clothing and jewelry were described in greater detail than her body or facial features. The richness of her garments and adornments both enhanced her features and signalled her nobility.

The lack of written detail meant that artists were able to portray Aphrodite in a way they felt was beautiful. While these typically followed certain conventions, these conventions could vary between regions and time periods. Aphrodite/Venus was therefore shown with certain marks of beauty that had persisted from the ancient world, but also with the features and clothing considered ideal in the artists’ own times. She could be recognized not by a specific feature, but by her desirabilithy.

[ceilidho]

wait but also, this being your first "proper adult job" so you're even less sure whether this is a normal thing to be upset about, or if you're just overreacting.

like, soap gets your phone number and address from the employee database thanks to one of his bros in HR, and shows up at your place one morning, saying something about, "starting a carpool program" even though it's only ever you two in the car???

or one day you're helping a customer and maybe standing a lil too close, so soap comes up behind you, grabs your loose hair and yanks just a bit too hard--your head tilts back until you're making uncomfortable eye contact with him. "Just putting your hair up for ye, luvie," he winks, while the customer suddenly feels like they're intruding on a weirdly intimate moment.

then for the holiday season, your team does a white elephant gift exchange and when it's your turn, you're unwrapping some very expensive perfume bottles--there's no way this didn't go over the $15 suggested limit. soap's sliding up next to you, saying something about he's dreamt of this fragrance on you and oh he sprays his bedsheets with this one so he can jerk off imagining you.

im shaking like a wet dog this is doing unspeakable things to me.

you don't even know this but he paid someone off to get your name in the secret santa gift exchange. like actually paid them fifty dollars just to have the opportunity to get you a gift. and you know the second you unwrap it that it must've been in the three figures. you just got someone a fancy mug. and he stares at you when you unwrap it, beaming when you give him a very controlled "thank you" because the alternative is screaming that this is way too expensive for you to keep.

"ye should put it on," he tells you, breathing just a little heavier. "really want ta smell it on ye."

he heaves you up by the hips whenever you have a hard time reaching something on a shelf instead of just reaching up and grabbing it for you. really digs his fingers into your sides. doesn't let you go right away when he puts you down. and if you make a comment about it being uncomfortable or it hurting you (you're an adult, you're not used to someone just lifting you up), he just coos at you instead, pouts and simpers like he's so sorry that you're not used to it yet.

maybe when you're assigned to the jewellery section, Johnny pops out of nowhere when you're helping a customer that's looking at some rings and he uses your hand to model some of the rings. and it gets. weirdly intense when he slides the ring onto your finger, like he's holding his breath. he even shudders a bit, presses himself right up against you behind the display counter until the customer leaves because it's genuinely off-putting lmao.

and if he comes in as a customer, jesus christ. be prepared for him to pester you the entire time, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. he'll brush off any other employees looking for you under the guise of you helping him shop, but then once they're gone, he'll go back to interrogating you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners you might've had. makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed :\\\

[thesimline]

1600s WOMEN - PART 2

In the early part of the 17th century holdovers from the Tudor period continued to be in style, but soon enough the iconic ruff would evolve into delicate soft and standing lace collars. By the 1620s women's fashion - and by extension their accessories - became a lot more simple. Hats kept growing in size from the previous century, both in width and height. Pearls were HUGELY popular as they were a way to display wealth. In fact, it's hard to find a woman's portrait from this period that doesn't feature pearl jewellery. CC links and reference images under the cut.

You can find more of my historical content here:

1300s ✺ 1400s ✺ 1500s ✺ 1600s ✺ 1700s

1 - Twisted Accessory Bangs by Atashi77

2 - Babyhair N3 by Daerilia

3 - Venice Accessory Bangs by Atashi77

4 - Fringe Accessory Bangs by Atashi77

5 - Parisa Bangs Shortened by Vintage Simstress

6 - Babyhair Collection by Sheabuttyr

7 - WW Bow Accessory by Gilded Ghosts

8 - Wreath Headdress by S-Club (TSR)

9 - Violet Accessory by Sims To Maggie

10 - Pearl Tiara Recolor by Peebs

11 - Pearls & Feather Hair Accessory by Melancholy Maiden

12 - Tire N1 by Wings (TSR)

13 - Baroque Pearl Drop Earrings by Feyona (TSR)

14 - Flower Earrings by S-Club (TSR)

15 - Katy Earrings V3 by Glitterberry Sims (TSR)

16 - Highbury Chemisette by Gilded Ghosts | Crochet Collar by Waekey

17 - Sweet Collar by Waekey | Jolie Accessory Bodysuit by Dissia (TSR)

18 - Ruff Collar by Strange Storyteller Sims

19 - Josephine Pearl Necklace by Bats From Westeros

20 - Malibu Necklace by Joliebean

21 - Veronica Necklace by Glitterberry Sims (TSR)

22 - Duchess Pearl Necklace by Yakfarm

23 - Belle der Mere Pearl Macys by Redhead Sims

24 - Classic Pearls by Glitterberry Sims (TSR)

25 - Lady Hat V2 by Elfdor

26 - Witch Hunter Hat by Kennetha V (TSR)

27 - Bow Hat by Joolster

28 - Top Hat by Count Cosmos

29 - Vintage Glam Hat by Madlen

30 - Felicity Hat by Ilkup

With thanks to some amazing creators: @daerilia @vintagesimstress @sheabuttyr @simstomaggie @peebsplays @the-melancholy-maiden @glitterberrysims @waekey @strangestorytellersims @batsfromwesteros @joliebean @yakfarm @redheadsims-cc @elfdor @madlensims @ilkup

[ghostofhyuck]

Taguan ng Anak series 1

CEO! Mark x former secretary! Reader

Summary: Years after you resigned as his secretary, Mark bumps into you once again, not knowing that something bloomed from your secret office love affair.

cw: mentions of pregnancy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It’s seldom for Mark to make time for himself.

Well to start, Mark excused himself that he’s in the mall to buy a gift, which is a surprising excuse for a CEO who’s such a workaholic. But in his defense, he wanted to buy a gift for his parent’s wedding anniversary and Mark wanted to make sure that he’ll be the one who’ll pick the gift personally.

That is why he’s in a well-known mall, wearing his casual clothes on a Saturday afternoon. The mall was pretty crowded given that it was a Saturday. Mark has been walking around thinking what to buy for his parents. It’s not like they’re hard to give presents, but Mark wanted to give them something special.

His feet dragged him to the mall’s department store, heading to the accessories section. Maybe his parents would like new sets of watches — that’s a bit common, Mark thinks. He had bought them watches many times. Mark ponders about it as he walks around the selections.

He didn’t notice that he’s in the jewellery section when a saleslady called his attention, offering him promos for a certain brand.

“You can be engraved in the ring! Are you going to buy it for someone special?” the saleslady asked.

As he stared at the display, Mark thought that it’ll be nice to buy his parents a new set of wedding rings, maybe they can even renew their vows. Thinking that it was a bright idea, Mark immediately asked for help from the saleslady who happily offered assistance for him.

Watching the jeweller engraved on his parent’s wedding anniversary date on the right, Mark couldn’t help but ponder at the thought of getting married. Seeing how happy his parents are and how their love created a strong and loving family, Mark wonders when it will be his turn.

But perhaps he’s passed his prime, all he can think about right now is the paperworks he left to his staff just because he decided to have a day-off.

“Thank you,” Mark mumbles as he grabs the paperbag from the saleslady. The paperbag felt light but Mark couldn’t help but feel lightened as he swayed the paperbag, excited for his parent’s reaction to his gift.

But just as he was about to walk away, a small figure bumped into him. It didn’t bother him a bit but the kid fell on the floor.

“Careful there!” he shouts. Helping the kid stand up. Mark then kneels down to check if the kid got any scratches but it seems like she wasn’t hurt at all.

“Sorry mister,” the kid apologises.

Mark looked at her and for a second, he felt something weird. The little girl looks eerily familiar that he can’t pinpoint it. For a minute, Mark thinks that he’s just seeing things so he gives her a smile, “it’s no worries, don’t run around okay? It’s dangerous.”

Looking left and right, it seems like the kid ran off from her parents. He stands up and offers his hand to the kid who immediately accepts it.

“What’s your name by the way? And where are your parents —”

“Minah!”

Mark wasn’t able to process everything when he heard a familiar voice and as he turned around, a familiar face welcomed him.

“It’s you,” Mark mumbled.

You stopped on your tracks, frozen to see your daughter with your former boss. You immediately bowed as an apology and snatched your daughter away from him.

“I’m really really sorry sir! I hope she didn’t disturb you,” you quickly said.

“Oh it’s nothing, and please, can we drop the sir? You’re no longer my secretary too,” he calmly said.

You only nod and as you felt that your daughter is now right beside you, you tried to walk away from the scene when Mark held your arms.

“It’s been a long time since I saw you,” Mark said quietly, as if he was trying to collect his words. “Can we talk?”

“What?” you asked.

His eyes landed on the child beside you, then as he looked at you, he gave you a meaningful smile. “I just wanna know how you have been.”

You thought that you could endure it. You thought that you could run away from everything — even from Minah’s father. From the very start, you always knew that it was forbidden. You were his secretary and he’s the head of the company. Everything was hidden, behind closed doors, and only hushed words that can be exchanged with you two alone together.

And damn it. It was Mark Lee. Mark Lee who’s loved by everyone, praised by his skills and nice personality. Mark Lee who Korea considers as one of their hottest bachelors. He was everything and then, there’s just you. His competent secretary who has to survive living in this world. Yet, you were willing to enter this kind of relationship. You were a fool to think that your romance with Mark will turn out right like the movies.

“So, how have you been?”

But it wasn’t. One day, you just woke up with an unexplained morning sickness and a trip to the hospital made you realise that your daydreams may not only ruin yours but also Mark’s future.

“I’m doing great, I found a better job with a better salary, I moved to a bigger apartment, and Kiwi’s still alive, still a grumpy cat you know?” you smiled, trying to brush off any topic that may land on the child next to you.

“I see,” Mark bitterly said. Grabbing the cup of coffee on his table. “So, who’s the little girl beside you?”

Your smile faded. You glanced at your daughter who innocently stared at you and your eyes wandered to the man in front of you.

“You know that there’s a possibility right?” Mark taunted, and you could only look at him with a guilty look. He still can read you after all.

“There’s no possibility Mark,” you told him. “She’s yours…I never entered a relationship after I gave birth.”

A beat of silence swallowed you too. You could only lower your head in shame.

“So why hide her from me? You think that I won’t take responsibility?” Mark’s tone turned full of anger and disappointment.

“No! It’s not like that, I just…I don’t want this to get into your way.”

You saw how Mark’s forehead creased, “what are you talking about?”

“Mark, we were young okay!? You have a long way to go as the head of the company, I don’t want a kid to get in your way.”

“And what, let you raise her without knowing her father?”

“You think it was an easy choice for me!?” you saw how surprised he was when you raised your tone. “You were my boss, you’re a CEO and I’m what!? I’m just your secretary Mark!”

“Don’t say that,” Mark calmly said, trying to reach out for you. “You know what we had was real.”

“Of course it was, but we’re just too different,” you mumbled.

Mark didn’t say a word. You could only lower your head out of guilt. It didn’t occur to you that Minah was trying to reach for your hand. Her small hands brushing to your arms making you look at her.

“Mama, are you crying?”

“What?” and before you could even touch your face, Mark already has wiped your tears away.

“You don’t know how much I was devastated when you left the company,” Mark confesses, gently wiping your tears away.

“It’s all my fault, I let our relationship be a secret, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No Mark, it was okay for me.”

“I know, but it was better that I fought for you. Years of not seeing each other…I don’t even know what you’ve been through when you’re raising our child alone.”

You could only smile bitterly, “it’s okay Mark, I’m over it.”

“Maybe, you’ve always been brave and I’m…I’m just me. I’m sorry for everything and I just want to make it up for the years I wasn’t there,” he holds onto your hand even tighter. “Can we start all over again? I want to be there for both of you.”

His eyes were pleading, desperate to meet yours. Mark was begging to be part of your life again and although there were things that you two haven’t talked about, you couldn’t help but glance at your daughter who cluelessly watched the scene unfold.

Remembering her drawing in her daycare where she draws a complete family, maybe it was time for you to grant her wish.

And as you glance back at Mark, you could only give him a smile as you muttered, “yes.”

[justporo]

Date night with Astarion and Tav

I just had an idea. Astarion and Tav go on a night out... But it's a game they play: make it as bougie and flamboyant as possible - without spending a single piece of gold.

You start by stealing each other outfits - or maybe convincing the store clerk that you paid for it already; maybe even returning it after date night to get "your" gold back

You go to one of those restaurants that only do reservations months in advance, convincing the waiter that "of course we have a reservation, do you not know who we are??", then striding in as if you owned the place after you've caused a colossal scene, all heads already turning to you

Ordering the most expensive bottle of wine off the menu and the most expensive dish (although of course Astarion doesn't take one bite) then putting it on the tab of someone whose name you just picked up somewhere or just making a one up on the spot that sounds so important and complicated that no one dares to deny you - or just pretending you don't speak the language and are foreign nobility

You'll have to make run though before you're being found out; surely you're not creating a distraction by knocking over this priceless vase, are you? Or by throwing Astarion's untouched steak to the spoilt lap dogs over at another table causing absolute chaos?

You run or sneak out of there: but not without stealing another bottle of that fine wine (or two)

Bonus points if Astarion has lightened someone's load of jewellery at some point and presents you with a nice gift while running off; "Now's not the time, Astarion!" "That's so bland of you, darling, there's always time for presents!"

Astarion taking you somewhere else after making it out of there "because the night is still young, my heart, we're both beautiful and not at all drunk yet"

He takes you to an art museum and without any real effort picks the lock and you stroll through the empty tall halls looking at the artworks while taking swigs of wine from the stolen bottle

Astarion cannot stop infodumping on you about the paintings and statues; you don't understand a single thing but think it's adorable and you do actually learn a lot

Since no one is there to stop you, you dodge under the ropes, look at the paintings up close, make a game of imitating the faces and postures until you both die laughing

Astarion making you stand on a pedestal where a statue is currently missing from display, then looking at you as if he was taking in an renowned artwork: "Ah yes, my favourite piece of art, so exquisite!"

In turn you make him pose next to one of those noble portrait paintings and call him "the most beautiful thing ever created"; he grins and makes a stupid joke but you're pretty sure you see the pointy tips of his ears turn a little pink

You end the night by climbing onto the roofs of the city somewhere, sit there with what's left of the stolen wine, maybe play a drinking game, sitting there in your fine stolen clothes and watch the night slowly become less dark while your hearts are filled with light

I -uh- *puts it on the pile of fics I have to write* *sighs* This was mean to become like a headcanon post - it became the outline of a fic somehow, oop

[angstywaifu]

Happy Birthday To Me - Garrick Tavis x Reader

A/N: Couldn't not post a birthday themed fic on my birthday about my favourite Fourth Wing/Iron Flame man. Thank you to those who gave me ideas for it! And thank you for all the birthday wishes! Warnings: 18+, Smut (only a small amount and implied)

To everyone else today was just another day. Another day in the riders quadrant. Just the way I had intended it to be as I stretched out in my bed. I extend my hand out to find the space next to me empty and cold. I open my eyes to see Garrick who was there when I had fallen asleep was gone. Had been for some time apparently. I couldn’t help the slight hint of sadness that washed over me.

Garrick and I were just friends with benefits. Close friends with benefits. He didn’t always stay the night, most of the time opting to go back to his room to try keep our arrangement a secret. But part of my had hoped today he would be there when I woke up. On my birthday. A silly hope considering he didn’t know when my birthday was. No one in the quadrant did. I’d never had a good birthday when I was younger, my parents usually forgetting or claiming to be too busy. And once they had died with the end of the rebellion, I didn’t want someone else to disappoint me. So I never told anyone. The group of people I now considered close friends always asked. Nearly three years later none of them knew. But someone did. Out of the corner of my eye, sitting on my bedside table was a card leaning up against a small box, a dark green ribbon wrapped around it. My favourite colour. I push myself up, manoeuvring to sit in the spot Garrick had been in when I had fallen asleep last night. I reach for the box first, the child in me wanting to see what awaited inside seeing as I’d rarely gotten gifts on my birthday. I open it to reveal a black choker, with a small green gem hanging from it. It was beautiful. I had pointed it out a few weekends ago in town when we had all gone down on one of our rare days off. Meaning this could have only been from someone in our friend group who had gone that day.

We walked through the main road through town. Our voices and laughter echoing off the walls as Imogen tells us a story about Bodhi becoming a flustered mess around a girl he was interested in. Again. For someone who grew up around Xaden and Garrick who were the epitome of confidence, Bodhi was the complete opposite most of the time, and it made for a lot of moments like this. As we pass by one of the few jewellery stores in town, something catches my eye. I drift away from the group as they keep laughing at Imogen’s story. In the window was a choker made up of thin black leather cord , and hanging off it was a beautiful green gem. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I must have been gone from the group longer than I had realised as a familiar presence joins me. I don’t have to look up to know its Garrick. His shadow easily fell over me without even trying. And his smell easily gave him away. The familiar scent of leather, musk and cinnamon I had grown so use to other the last few months. A smell that I swear was permanently on that side of the bed he always laid on.

”What you looking at?” He asks as his eyes scan the items in the store window.

I point my finger at the choker on display in the middle of the window display. “Just that choker. Nothing special.” I tell him.

”Why don’t you get it then? Seems you really like it.” He pushes. I really must have been standing here looking at it longer than I realised.

I shake my head. “I’ll just end up losing it in a challenge or something. Just thought it was pretty.”

With a final look at the choker, I smile up at Garrick before wandering back to the group standing a few feet behind us.

Had Garrick gotten this for me? If he had, he would have gotten it while we were there. But why wait till today to give it to me? I had never told him when my birthday was. Hadn’t uttered a single word about it since the day I had gotten here. There was no way he knew what today was. I place the box on the bed in front of me before grabbing the card that had been placed with the box. I open the card to find the very familiar scrawl I knew belonged to Garrick. I had sat next to him in nearly every class after he had befriended me in Gauntlet training back in first year. I would know his handwriting anywhere.

I promise you’ll never lose this. I’ll make sure of it.

Head to where we first met - Garrick

I move faster than I ever have before. Jumping out of bed and pulling on my uniform and brushing my hair in record time. I’m halfway across my room when I remember the necklace still in the box on my bed. I rush over and grab the necklace. My fingers fumbling nervously on the clasp as I try to secure it around my neck. After many failed attempts I manage to finally clasp it together. I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips as I catch my reflection in the mirror. The sun hitting the green gem on my neck just right, casting a subtle green glow around it. It was beautiful. I don’t even hesitate as my feet take me towards the gauntlet. Garrick and I had technically met before the training sessions had started. We we’re in the same squad. But until gauntlet training had started, we had never uttered a single word to each other. Not even a hello. And as I round the corner into the gauntlet I know my gut feeling was right. Exactly where we had said our first words, had our first interaction say another box with a green bow. Right where Garrick had saved me from falling to my death.

I didn’t have enough momentum. My footwork was all wrong as my body jerked forward on the third last post. I was falling and I was going to die. I close my eyes so I don’t see it coming. Don’t have to watch my death come to me. But suddenly I’m not falling forward. The wind rushing around me gone. Instead I’m swinging back up as something grasps my arm. I thud into something solid, before we both topple to the ground, rolling into the next obstacle. I lie there in shock, my eyes still shut. There was no way I hadn’t died. My mind was playing tricks on me. It had to be. But a deep voice pulls me from my thoughts and has me opening my eyes.

”Hey, are you ok?”

I open my eyes to see the biggest cadet in our squad and probably the entire quadrant looking down at me. Worry etched on their face and in their hazel eyes. Still in shock from almost dying all I can do is nod my head. Clearly he senses I’m still in shock as he grasps my hands and pulls me up with him. I barely reach his shoulder as we both stand on the small landing. The landing I was very close to not being on if it wasn’t for Garrick. Who I could have sworn was half way up the next obstacle as I started mine. He should have cleared it by the time I had started to fall. He should have easily cleared it by then.

”Think you can make it up the next one?” Garrick’s question pulling me from my thoughts.

I turn to look at the upwards climb we would have to make. Something I could easily do. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

”Good. I’m Garrick by the way.” He holds his hand out to me.

I grasp it, his hand dwarfing mine instantly. “I’m Y/N.”

This time I had easily made it across the posts. Right over to the box on the small landing. I kneel in front of it, pulling off the green bow. Inside was a wooden carving of my green dragon. A wooden carving I knew Liam Mairi had done. I had seen him making carvings for some of the other riders. And I had dropped hints multiple times I would love one of my dragon. He kept telling me he would get to mine. But I had a feeling mine had been done for a while as I had only started asking recently. Underneath the wooden carving is another note from Garrick.

I’m glad I caught you that day. Even though I didn’t know you, I hate to think how my life would have turned out if I hadn’t.

Meet me where it first happened - Garrick

I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face as I read his note, or the way my heart beat increases ever so slightly. The others had always joked I brought out the best in Garrick from that day onwards. I had to take their word for it, as Garrick had never changed in my eyes. He had always acted the same around me. I turn and climb up the last of the Gauntlet. Thank god once we cleared this on presentation day we didn’t have to do this to get up to the flight field every single time. Even with it being far easier now than it was back in first year. As I pull my self over the top I head straight for the stairs to take me back down to the quadrant. The only place my mind went to with the words ‘meet me where it first happened’ was his room. So that’s where I went.

”F-fuck, Garrick.” I practically moan.

Garrick’s hands grip my thighs tightly, keeping me firmly seated on his face. His tongue licking slowly over me, before wrapping his lips around my clit. My hands gripping his head board tightly as my body trembles and my toes curl. Garrick’s name was tumbling from my lips with every stroke. I gasp out loudly as his tongue probes my entrance, Garrick’s hands gripping my thighs tightly in response. I feel his groan rumble through me as I grind down on his face, his nose grazing my clit, a loud moan escaping me again. One of his hands moves from my thigh to firmly grasp me ass, encouraging me to move back and forth. I whimper as he removes his lips from me, earning a chuckle from Garrick. I had been so hesitant to do this, and now here I was whimpering at the loss. But he quickly replaces the loss with his fingers. I instantly clamp around them, head rolling back in pleasure.

”Fuck Y/N, you look so pretty like this. Way better than I ever imagined.” His voice dropping an octave lower somehow. “Look at you coming undone on just my fingers and tongue.”

All I can do is moan and whimper in response as he adds another finger, curling them inside me. I nearly collapse at the feeling. Garrick and I had barely started and he already had me falling apart on top of him. As Garrick sucks on my clit again, my whole body starts shaking, my climax quickly approaching.

”That’s it sweetheart. Let go. Come apart on my fingers.” He mumbles against me.

And I do. Hard and loud as I moan and scream his name.

My hand hovers over the handle to Garrick’s room, shaking slightly as my heart beats loudly and fast in my chest. The green bow on the handle telling me I was in the right spot. Meaning Garrick was most likely inside based off the wording of his note. On the other side I pick the faint sounds of someone pacing back and forth. Was Garrick nervous? Garrick who I had never seen look phased or scared of anything in the time we had been here. Yet hear I was listening to his pacing back and forth. I suck in a deep breathe and turn the handle and push open the door. Garrick who was pacing towards the other side of the room turns quickly and looks at me. A smile gracing his lips as his eyes lower to the choker still clasped around my neck. I look around the room, and situated on the desk is a cupcake from one of the bakeries in the local town with green icing on top. Next to it what looks to be a book with some slim boxes stacked on top, secured together with another one of the green bows. Garrick had known today was my birthday. There was no denying it.

”How did you know?” I ask him as I walk over to the desk, Garrick standing behind me and placing a hand on the small of my back.

”Lets just say I have my ways.” He says with a chuckle. I don’t have to turn to see the smirk that will be on his face.

”What ways? I’ve never told anyone here when my birthday was.” I tell him as I undo the bow holding the book and boxes together.

Garrick watches silently as I open the first box. Inside was a new set of daggers. Tyrrish runes decorated the handle. They were gorgeous. The next box held a new set of charcoals to go with the sketch book lying underneath.

”Being a section leader gives me access to information on all the cadets under me.” Cadets that included me as I was in his section. “I had also noticed over the last two years, that you always seemed off around this time of year. That something bothered you. So I already had my suspicions.”

”You didn’t have to do this.” I tell him as I turn and look at up him, trapping me between Garrick and the desk.

Garrick just smiles and reaches up and brushes some of my hair behind my ear, then resting his hand on my cheek. In my rush I hadn’t done my usual braid or bun, leaving it to hand loosely around my face. Something I knew drove Garrick crazy. He loved it when I’d let it down during our more intimate moments.

”I did. I needed to do this for you. Can’t have my girl hating her birthday.” He tells me softly.

Garrick was always good at keeping his emotions off his face. But his eyes always spoke what he was trying to hide. I could see the nervousness in them, the slight darting around my face to see how I would react.

”You’re girl? We’re just fr-”

”What if I wanted more? Wanted more than just some heated moments in each others beds. But kept convincing myself I couldn’t have more. What if I was stupid enough to fall for one of my closest friends.” He pleads, resting his forehead on mine.

”Good thing we’re both stupid then.” I say.

I briefly catch a smile on Garrick’s lips before they’re on my own. Our hands pulling at each others clothes as he guides us towards his bed, two piles ending up on the floor. I go to grab his hand to pull him down to the bed with me, but he smacks it away as he kneels in front of me, pulling me towards the edge of the bed.

”Today is all about you darling.” He says, his voice dropping an octave lower than normal, bringing out the husky tone that he knows I love.

I go to object, but my words are silenced by my moan as Garrick runs his tongue along my centre and pushes his fingers inside me. Happy birthday to me.

[mothiir]

xenobiology

pov: you’re an eldar, and the human you’re working with smells better each day.

this is the other side of eyes full of stars, told from Taleath’s perspective. fair warning that it will get pretty weird pretty fast, because writing from the pov of a murderous space elf leads to some strange avenues.

—

—

Whatever process that Cato Sicarius underwent to shape him into a muscle-bound killing machine clearly stripped out his — already limited — social grace and replaced it with battle acumen and bloodthirst. Taleath isn’t complaining — the creature is a worthy ally on the battlefield — but it is vexing to see the Astartes snarl and posture around you, despising how you inspire such rampant sexual desire in him, and thus despising you. It’s such a petty human trouble: denying your feelings, and having them twist into something gnarled and uncontrollable. And human emotions are so base and simple! If Cato were to feel one tenth — no, one hundredth — of the true emotional range of an Aeldari then his tiny, unwrinkled brain would combust with the effort of controlling them.

That being said: Taleath runs his tongue over his gauntlet, tasting where your lips brushed, and suppresses a full-body shiver. Oh how he wants. He’s spent almost a hundred years learning to manage his darker impulses, but before that he indulged them at will, and the hedonistic habits of three centuries are clawing at the edges of his self control. You taste sweet and mammalian. He wants to drink you down to the bone, your hot blood down his gullet, your shining soul sticking between his teeth. As he roles the fragments of you over his tastebuds, the tiny shreds of skin cells and drop of saliva, the taste thins and vanishes, and oh it is not enough.

It will never be enough.

“Come here, please,” he says, removing his gloves slowly, slowly, slowly — meditatively, focusing on the slide of metal over each of his knuckles, trying to use the sensation to ground himself. It works, up until the point when you stand before him, your warm heart racing, echoing in his marrow. His ears twitch to better capture the sound. He places one bare palm against the small of your back, pulling you closer, and declares a personal vendetta against whatever seamstress made your clothes, against whatever beast produced the fabric. He will gut them all, burn their worlds and display their loved ones on spikes, all for having the temerity of separating his hand from your flesh.

His thumb presses at your lower lip. Your flesh is softer than he expected, downed with fine hair that is invisible to a human’s eyes, but he sees it; sees how the light catches on the strands, velvety and exotic. He exerts just the tiniest amount of pressure, willing you to open your mouth, to welcome him inside, to lave that warm tongue of yours over his digit. You don’t, however. You hold yourself there, heart rabbit-swift and skin rosy with arousal, and you defy him. Your eyes fix on his: challenging. Pushing inside your mind feels all too natural; you welcome him in — subconsciously, of course — and he tastes your defiance like dandelion leaves plucked at dawn, your desire a rosy pink sunrise glow on a still pond. By the gods, this is monumentally unfair. He is meant to be reformed. A century ago, he would already have had you a dozen times over, shaping your sweet warm insides to fit him: you wouldn’t be able to move without the remnants of his pleasure leaking down your thighs. He would have braided your hair with diamonds that glittered like caught stars; you would jangle with the jewellery he draped about your throat, displaying the trophies of his latest raid. He would have have branded his sigil between your breasts and pierced your nipples, just so he could string a gold chain between them, and use it to pull you closer and —

Your breath puffs against his flesh, and he can restrain himself no longer. His fingers slot into your mouth like they were destined for it — maybe they were. The Farseers have stranger prophecies than this; it is not beyond the realm of possibility that Isha, in her infinite wisdom, sewed the seeds for your birth ten thousand years ago, knowing that one day you would be here, mouth crooked open, silk-wet and perfect.

He explores your mouth in the same way he removed his gloves: slow, deliberate; an act of meditation. He catalogues the ivory ridges of your teeth; the pillowy softness of your cheeks; the squirming wet muscle of your tongue. He coos with appreciation, his chest vibrating with a sound that few humans hear: the sound of a deeply content Aeldari.

Your drool should revolt him as it slicks between his fingers and drips down your chin — but no, it is not enough. He wants to see it pasted all over your face as you gag and hiccup, clinging helplessly to his boots for support, his cock sliding down your tight tight little throat —

It’s a trick. It’s what they do, it’s what they do. Your thoughts are abrasive: a stone splashing directly into his skull. He probes back into your head, and feels the spiderweb strands of your conviction that this is all a trap, that he is just pretending to desire you for some infernal purpose. Knife-ear, you think, and in that moment he wants to slice out the tongue of every human you have ever spoken to, just so he can mute the bastard who taught you that word.

“Do not insult me,” he growls, his voice slipping lower, losing the artificial Iyanden accent he adapts when conversing with others (once you hear the voice of a Drukhari you do not forget it, and humans often have quite dramatic reactions when they realise what he used to be. Entertaining reactions to be sure, but not ones conducive to diplomatic negotiations.) “I would not need to resort to such base measures to trick you, if I wanted to — if — “

You hollow your cheeks and suck, welcoming his fingers down into your soft palette, Taleath’s vision goes white. When he returns to himself, a fraction of a heartbeat later, you are bobbing your head back and forth, your thoughts pink-red with desire. You want so badly to hold his wrist, to urge him deeper — you are thinking of it so vividly — that for a moment he thinks you have done so. He feels the ghost of your grasp on his wrist, and — no. No, he cannot lose himself in this, he cannot.

I want him to fuck my throat —

Your desires are strident lightning, reverberating thunder. He yanks you closer, thankful that the segments of his armour shield his growing erection. He will bend you over his throne, he will carve his name into your back again and again, until there is scarce any flesh to mark that does not already bear the signs of his ownership —

No. No. He yanks his fingers free, and you mew with distress, leaning forwards after them, lips parted in canine supplication, your feelings spiking in violet defiance: give it back. Not just pleading, but entitlement; you want him, you resent him for stopping.

“I should not be doing this,” he says, swallowing thickly. Think of the ocean, his teacher would tell him when he first joined Iyanden, constantly changing, grey and endless beneath a bleak sky. “You are human.”

Your lips bump against his palm.

“Yes,” you coo, “and you want me.”

His body moves before his higher brain functions can step in; three centuries of slaking his thirst without thought for the consequence triumphing over a century of trying very hard to unlearn the impulse. In that space between one breath and the next he is not Taleath of Iyanden; he is Taleath of the Crimson Talon, kabalite warrior without peer. Your flesh gives way beneath his teeth like warm butter, and he greedily slurps down the blood that spills out. Your little cry of pain is music to his ears, and it will be the first of many; he will wring a symphony from you by the time he has finished. You open your thighs for him — so willing, so obedient — and he fully intends to give you what you both so clearly need. He will fuck you again and again and again, until even that idiot Cato Sicarius sees who owns you, body and bone and soul —

For you, the exchange is less than a heartbeat. For Taleath, it feels like an eternity: he grinds between your thighs, the heat of your cunt pulsing through his armour; he can smell how slick you are, how easily he could push inside. Your blood between his teeth and on his tongue, rich and delicious. He’ll dine on you each morning and each evening, glutting himself, because does he not deserve it? Is he not entitled to you? Sweet, soft human, so frail in his grasp — his kind built an empire whilst yours scrabbled in the mud, and —

He recognises the drift of his thoughts into old, familiar patterns and with a monumental effort of will he hauls himself away. Standing at the other side of the room, he licks your blood from his lips, rolling it between his teeth like he is sampling a fine wine. He wants the flavour to linger forever.

“Taleath —“

Gods preserve him, you smell of prey. Fearful, sweet, confused, aroused: you might as well be a fawn, tottering on long fragile legs before a hungry eagle.

“No. Stay there.”

Your fingers probe the bite mark, and he wants nothing more than to rejoin you, to replace your hand with his own; his fingers would span your throat, your jugular nuzzling comfortably into the webbing between his thumb and index finger.

But he does not move — not to join you, and not to retreat. The old soul-hunger is stirring once more; never quite gone, only denied and starved into submission. Taleath will die a thousand intricate deaths at the hands of a haemonculi before admitting it, but he understands Cato a little better now: one touch of your lips, one taste of your blood, and he is ready to tumble headlong back into the doomed ways of his former kin, willing to embrace damnation as long as he can do it with you warm and squirming under him.

“I hope that this is not a diplomatic incident.”

“No. But it could be. My kind do not engage in carnal pleasures casually — “

“—and not with mon-keigh.”

”Not often. Not usually.” An Aeldari would notice the telltale signs of sexual arousal he’s displaying, and would not-so-gently advise him to meditate until they vanish. His ears twitch; his voice echoes with that damnable coo that only the most practiced of his kind can swallow back.

You are human. You do not understand.

“I do not want you to be hurt,” he says, cursing the limitations of your language. To be hurt: what a limited, idiotic expression. There is no shorthand to specify what sort of hurt — injured pride, perhaps, which can be both a positive or a negative and thus demands at least two tenses; hurt in battle, which can be honourable; hurt in the aesthetic sense, where you view something so abysmally hideous it sears the artistic sensibilities of your soul — and so he must communicate with the linguistic equivalent of a shovel.

“I’m fine. It barely stings. It will heal up soon enough.”

That is not what he means; not even a little. Indeed, the notion of his bite healing up pains him, a searing slash across his chest worse than any bolter fire.

“—I do not want you hurt by anyone who is not me.”

“You — you want to hurt me?”

Again: your language is so limited, so primitive. There is a word in his native tongue that translates as one so precious that only I may flay them and another that means a face so beautiful it is best when attached it its bones and not even displaying it on my finest trophy wall would enhance its appeal.

He does want to hurt you — but it is more than that. He wants to own you. To devour you. To feel the warmth of your body under his, and to see your soul flare bright against the dark. He wants — and wanting, to an Aeldari, is poison.

When he leaves you, it takes more willpower than you can ever understand. And even as he sits alone in his quarters, trying desperately to reach the fathom depths of Craftworld serenity he now carries within him, he tastes your blood on his tongue.

He will be back to you. Of this, he is certain.

[scotianostra]

St Madoe's Stone , Perth Museum.

The most complete of all the pictish/Celtic stoones I saw on display on Monday, this was found lying down in St Madoes Churchyard, Perthshire during 1830's. . In the 1920s it was moved, in its base, to stand against the wall beside the church door. In the 1990s it was taken to Perth Museum & Art Gallery.

One side, as seen in my gif, is dominated by the ring-headed cross that fills what we can accept as the front of the slab. It is surrounded by biting dogs and with two lion-like creatures facing each other across the top of the stone.

The other side of the slab shows three cloaked and hooded riders, probably churchmen (possibly a reference to the road and its users between St Andrews and Scone) and below them three Pictish symbols: a crescent and v-rod, a double-disc and z-rod and a Pictish beast. The symbols are much worn due to exposure to the elements when it stood in thechurchyard.

In the first thousand years AD, the country we now call Scotland was dominated by changing groups of Celtic peoples, most notably the Picts. From AD 250-900, they controlled most of Scotland north of the River Forth. We do not know what they called themselves. The Picts – meaning “the painted ones” – is the name the Romans gave them. Their language has disappeared and no Pictish manuscripts are known to have survived. But their art does survive on over 300 pieces of carved stonework and a much smaller number of portable objects such as jewellery.

There at least 17 sites around the Perth area, they include Stone Circles, a Pictish Free-Standing Cross, Pictish Symbol Stones and stones with cup marks, cup and ring marks are by far the most common motif, if you remember, or have ever inspected the Caiy Stone, at Oxgangs, which I visited and posted pics of last year, there are 6 of thes type of marks on this stone.

Perth Museum has several fragments of smaller stones which I shall post at a later time.

[texasagocarafe]

01. Love | AJ SHABEEL

word count: 700+

warnings: n/a

genre: fluff

a/n: something subpar for the day while i work on other writings (major apologies to my aj story readers! things coming soon). i'm going to release a few one shots i had in the vault tonight to make up for the break. again, apologies.

Don’t get me wrong, you can afford the luxuries you so please, but the insistence of the man in front of you is enough to keep your credit card warmed in the safety of your purse.

“Which one catches your eye?” Aj inquires as he meanders around the glass, a hand tucked away in his pants pocket. You slide a glance towards him and back at the display of jewellery.

“I told you already, I’ve got enough,” if your bejewelled hand was anything to go off of. Aj’s steps halt and he sends a firm look your way. “Well maybe a ring wouldn’t hurt.”

“Pick one.”

You purse your lips as you hum in thought. Your eyes slightly widen at the sight of a stocky golden pearl ring, “That one.”

“Look at you,” your fiance whistles as you spin in front of him to display your attire for tonight’s dinner. A smile paints your face, and Aj’s stare of adornment goes unnoticed.

“I really love the sequins embroidered into this dress, you know?” You catch your own eye in the mirror where you stop your spin. “I look like a mermaid,” you awe at the beauty of the marbled dress. Met with silence, you realise you haven’t heard your fiance utter a word in a good minute. Your gaze in the mirror falls to the reflection of Aj sitting on the edge of the bed, staring right back at you.

Your knees almost buckle.

“You look good,” the man licks his lips, his attention solely on you.

“Just good?” You quip, angling your head to the side with an air of flirtation.

Aj’s head is a mess at the sight of you. The loose strap slinging down your shoulder. Your hair framed to accentuate your face. And those damned eyes. He needed you like sin and you didn’t even know it.

He stands up.

“You look amazing—”

He takes a step towards you.

“—you look fucking beautiful.”

Behind you, Aj slides the fallen strap of your dress back onto your shoulder. His hands fall on the curve of your hips and turn you around. At the sight of your pearl ring, he secures your hand in his and lifts it near his face, planting a soft kiss on your knuckles, ever the chivalrous man. You both hold steady gazes into each other’s eyes as you take in the other one’s allure. Aj smiles before his lips fall upon yours in a fervent kiss. You whir and throw your hands over his neck as you pull him flush against you. Your head and stomach share a buzz that only He could elicit from you. Aj slightly bites on your lower lip, hearing the silk of your whine.

God, he wanted to hear more of that.

You raise a hand to grip and twist his curls and Aj groans as he pulls away.

Aj looked at you, gaze filled with desire. He made to dive back into connecting your lips, but you stopped.

“We’re going to be late,” you breathe out, chest heaving as your vision falls upon the clock on the wall.

The man in front of you looks visibly annoyed as he rolls his eyes at your usual punctuality.

You, noticing this, try convincing him, ”Come on, Niko’s going to get mad.”

“Boo fucking hoo,” Aj deadpans.

You return his attitude as you roll your eyes. You grab his hand that’s comfortably laid on your ass and intertwine your fingers with his, swinging it a little, “Stop being so childish.” You kiss him again, the tension in his body dissipating at your touch. You pull back to see him dazed and you chuckle.

“You’re cheeky, you know that?” Aj tuts, encircling his arm around the back of your neck, his hand dangling off your shoulder.

You smile sheepishly; at that, Aj can’t help but pull you in, yet again, for a kiss.

“Aj!” you call scandalously, lightly slapping his chest.

“What?” your fiance asks with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Leaving his embrace, you grab your jacket and secure Aj’s hand in yours once again, dragging him towards the door.

This girl, Aj chuckles, shaking his head as he follows you out the exit.