#Wedding veil message

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 5: Cheating

IU gets a naughty on her special day. Who would've thought she'd be like this.

Length 1.8K

IU X Mreader

You prepare for a long day; it’s Jieun’s wedding, and you could not be late. You think back to all the time you spent together going back to college. As you put on your tie, you consider what might change now that she has a husband to look after. Sure, you had met the guy, and he was a good guy, but you also knew marriage could change many things. You hear your phone buzz and go over to check after finishing the last knot on your tie. It was Jieun. “You better get here early; I won’t forgive you if you’re not.” You roll your eyes, thinking to yourself how she’s always like this. Another message pops up, “I mean it, you better get here in the next twenty minutes.” You consider responding to her but leave her on read for the moment. You finish getting ready for her wedding and jet off to the venue, your phone vibrating with another message occasionally. 

You get there early enough to help set some things up and catch up with old friends before the wedding starts. You stand at the end of the aisle along with the bridesmaids and groomsmen. You adjust your pants, feeling uncomfortable now that the wedding has started. Your best friend, a vision of beauty, walks towards her soon-to-be husband on the happiest day of her life. Her soft smile shines through the thin fabric of her veil as she approaches the altar. She scans the room, her eyes moving from family and friends to you and finally to her fiance. Her veil is lifted as she reaches the altar, and her smile lights up the room. Jieun's excitement is tangible; she bites her lip and shifts her weight as they clasp each other’s hands. You can already tell how happy she is to be marrying him.

The image before you is one of pure love—at least, it would be if Jieun wasn’t a cheater. You and Jieun were best friends, but more than that, you were friends with benefits. Her soon-to-be husband wasn’t a bad man, just one that couldn’t satisfy her. You and Jieun were friends with benefits before she met her fiance. While the two of you agreed to stop, Jieun eventually came back to you, begging you to fuck her. After that, she explained that while she loved him and was perfect in every other way, he was terrible at sex. So, to satisfy herself, Jieun would come to you, and she came to you before the wedding began.

A little over an hour and a half before the wedding began, Jieun sent away her bridesmaids, asking them to do some last checks on the venue before texting you. “The room’s empty.” A simple text that told you everything you needed to know. You snuck through the building, making your way inside Jieun’s room.

“Wow, look at you doing this on your wedding day.” 

“Shut up and kiss me,” She answers. You smirk and pull Jieun close to you, nipping at her neck. “D-don’t, they’ll see.” She moans. Despite her protests, she cranes her neck, letting you continue to mark her skin. 

“You can always add more makeup,” you whisper, tugging at her dress. Inch by inch, it rolls down her body, but you stop at her waist. Your kisses slowly move down Jieun’s body; you pause at her breasts, running your tongue around her nipples to make her shiver. Jieun’s breathing sharpened. As you glance up, you see her biting her bottom lip, trying to hold back her moans. “Little Jieun is such a dirty girl, cheating on her soon-to-be husband on her wedding day,” You tease while running your hands over her back. “You’re still going to be my good little whore too, huh?” 

“Mhm,” Jieun hums. She sucks in a breath as she feels your mouth latch onto her breast. “Shit.” You stifle a chuckle and gently suck on her breast, forcing Jieun’s voice to be heard. You Push Jieun back slowly, placing her on the counter and lifting up her dress. Makeup falls to the floor as you take the bride. 

You pull out your cock and rub it against her panties, “Tell me how much you want it.” You tease Jieun, continuing to grind against her as you await her response. “We don’t have all day, you know.” 

“Fuck me already.”

“You know what I want to hear you say.”

Jieun grimaces, reaches down, and pulls her panties to the side. “I’m a cheating whore who loves your cock. Please fuck me,” She says in a monotone voice, making you chuckle. 

“I’m glad you’re admitting it.” You tell Jieun, kissing her neck before plunging your cock deep into her cunt. She arches her back and gasps, feeling your cock stretch her so well. You hold onto Jieun’s thighs and begin pounding away at her body, drawing moan after moan out of her.

“You’re going to walk down the aisle with my cum inside you. What a slut.” You whisper into Jieun’s ear. 

“I know,” Instead of shame, Jieun smiles, liking the thought. You tighten your grip on her thighs and raise one of her legs. You go deeper, making Jieun’s moan louder as she feels your cock fill her. You move at a rapid pace, knowing that you could be interrupted at any moment. Jieun knocks down more items from the counter as you bring her to her climax. Her walls constricting around you as she draws closer to it. You move quickly before ramming yourself deep inside Jieun, adding some more white to her body. You pull out slowly, letting your cum flow out of her cunt. “You better fix yourself up. The wedding starts soon. I wish I got to paint that pretty little face.”

Jieun reaches for you, cupping your cheek and kissing you. “There’ll be a lot of time for that another day. This body is still going to be yours.” She pats your chest softly, “Now get going.” You leave, pull up your pants, and head back to the wedding; you watch the groom stand at the altar for a few minutes, waiting for his bride to come out. It took a few more minutes for her to come out; no doubt Jieun was putting more makeup on to hide her affair. Soon enough, though, she came out and walked down the aisle with her father. The wedding was like any other, and soon enough, it was made official. 

You couldn’t help but look at Jieun in her new dress at the after-party. As the night wore on, you watched her husband lose himself to alcohol and pass out. You took the opportunity to walk up to Jieun again. “Congratulations, you’re a married woman now.”

“Thanks,”

“Look like you won’t get to consummate the marriage, though,” you tell her, pointing to her passed-out husband. You sneak your hand down and grab her ass. 

Jieun purses her lips and glances at you. “Well, I know someone who can help me celebrate this and make it official.”

“So you want to go again?”

“Let’s find somewhere quiet.” You and Jieun sneak off, ending up in a bathroom. When you are alone with her, you wrap your hands around her waist, holding her tightly. 

“Such a bad wife, letting a guest be the first to fuck you.”

Jieun laughs as her arms wrap around your neck, “I wouldn’t let anyone else do it besides you. Now come and fuck me like the dirty girl I am.” You smirk. You lift Jieun, place her on the sink, and lift up her dress. You pull down Jieun’s panties, letting them hang off one of her legs as you rub your cock against her cunt. 

“Considering how drunk your husband is, you can probably get away with a little more tonight.”

Jieun’s eyes widen for a moment, “You don’t mean…”

“Hey, if it happens. It happens.” 

A smile creeps onto Jieun’s face. “Yeah, I guess so. If it happens, it happens.” You rub your cock against Jieun’s cunt, ready to fuck her again when you pull away. “What’s wrong?”

Without a word, you turn Jieun around and bend her over the sink. You flip her dress over her ass and wrap her hair around your hand, pulling on her hair and forcing her to look in the mirror. “I want you this way,” You watch Jieun’s lips curl as your cock pushes past her lips, stretching her for the second time today. She doesn’t hold back her moans as you pull her hair pair back. You bring more pain her way when you start spanking her, each slap turning her cheeks a deeper shade of red as your handprint appears. You feel her walls tighten around you with every strike. Letting go of her hair, you move your hand around Jieun’s neck, pulling her back. “What would your husband think if he saw you moaning like this?”

Jieun bites her lip, imagining how hot it would be. “D-don’t say that,” she says while her walls clamp down on your cock. 

“You like that, don’t you? You want him to see you being a little slut.” You run your fingers across Jieun’s clit, making her body shudder from the added pleasure. This is why she loved having sex with you. You didn’t treat her like a princess; you treated her like a slut when it came time to fuck. “Has he made you cum before?”

“No,” Jieun whines, feeling the tension in her body. “He’s never made me cum,” Jieun forces her eyes shut, feeling her body about to blow. You speed up your thrusts and bury yourself inside Jieun, cumming inside her again. Jieun gasps as her body is pushed over the edge as she cums on your cock. 

“At least someone can,” you tell her as you slowly drag your cock out. “Can you clean me up? You didn’t get to earlier.”

Jieun smiles and squats down, her hand gently grasping your cock, as her eyes run along the shaft. Sticking her tongue out, she flicks the head of your cock before swallowing it. She moans softly as she bobs her head, her tongue lapping at the sides of your shaft as she cleans you up. Jieun’s movements were slow and loving as it went on; she slowed down, let her tongue caress your cock as she neared the end. She pulled back slowly and pressed her lips against your cock before looking up at you with a smile. “All clean,” she says, brimming with pride.  “Remember, this changes nothing. I just need you for your cock,”

“Yeah, I know. Alright, thanks Jieun. Let’s get back to the party before anyone notices.” You help Jieun up and check on her dress, making sure she is presentable before stepping out of the bathroom and heading back to your friends. Jieun joins you a few minutes later, with no one the wiser for what happened between you two. 

[euphoricfilter]

standing next to you:

pairing: dancer! jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || strangers to somewhat lovers

summary: with all those eyes on him, he only had eyes for you

word count: 4k

tags/ warnings: infidelity (womp womp), m/c has a crusty rich old bitch of a husband, smut in the forms of: dom! jungkook, who is a little condescending (because we all know i like that), subby! reader, semi-public sex?, oral (fem. receiving), unprotected sex, the pull out method (womp womp), multiple orgasms, cum marking? jungkook has a dick piercing!!!! lets goooo!!!!

notes: yippee jungkook gave me another smut idea. kinda half edited so if there’s mistakes then no there isn’t <\3

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

It couldn’t have been more than half a second, Jungkook’s eyes catching yours for the briefest moment as the spotlights dance over the crowd, what could have been mistaken for the galaxy reflected in your irises as you look at him.

The eyes that told a story of worship, how his mere existence was a crazed phenomenon your brain was barely able to process as you follow his body across the stage.

For months now, he would catch glimpses of you, always sat at the same table with the same people. Never once talking to them as your focus lays solely on him as he dances on stage.

Your face is soon veiled by one of his back-up dancers, flicker of a moment gone. Whatever was there, a short spark of interest simmering out as your face is no longer in his line of sight. Buzz of something a little more snapped, dissolving into fine dust under the orange hue of the light.

There was such innocent wonder in your eyes as your gaze flickers across the stage, entirely enamoured by what lay before you. The theatre nothing like you had ever seen before, ever so extravagant, and elegant. Male dancers dominating the stage, flowing as if they were dancing on ice, so free-spirited in the ways their bodies move.

Constant stimuli of such an event scratching the back of your mind—the way Jungkook moves enough for you to drown out the rest of the chatter behind you, your existence nothing to any of these people.

Your heart hammers in time with the base that tickles the bottom of your feet, broaches on the dancers’ jackets star-like as the spotlight finds its place back on stage, Jungkook’s face soon illuminated again. Face sculpted, a gift from the high heavens, a man that captures the hearts of many, man and woman alike.

He wonders if your eyes remain on him, bright with wonder as he glides across the stage, trying his hardest to find your eyes behind the harsh glare of the lights, sat ever so pretty, the prettiest little thing he’d ever seen.

It’s only when the lights dim does he see the hand on your thigh, silver band of a wedding ring sat one of the fingers.

Though you don’t seem to notice, entirely focused on the stage you don’t seem to realise when your husband squeezes your thigh, entirely unaware when he pushes his chair back to stand up. Ignorant to the fact that he saunters over to another woman a couple of tables behind where you’re sat.

Left alone in the company of your husband’s friends, who have no means to talk to you, nor acknowledge your existence. Because who would talk to the wife of the man who clearly has no care for what should be his lover? And as much as you pretend to not notice, never once asking why he gets home so late, or the messages that flash across the screen of his phone, never once have you brought it up.

Because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t there to care, to worry about who got your husband’s dick wet or who was stuffed full of his cum, who had it dripping down their legs when he re-emerges after you hadn’t seen him for what felt like hours. You were there to look pretty, and to smile at any man that gives you attention, nothing more and nothing less.

Jungkook thinks you must be the first to stand on your feet once the performance is over, eager in your applause. Too shy to meet his eyes from where he looks down at you from the stage, but not enough to not show your appreciation for his art. Glittery shimmer of the dim light illuminating you, stood centre of the room, awe reflected from your face as you quickly glance up to look at him before the curtain lowers.

So many minutes of your life stolen by him, perfect in the way his body moved, moments you never wish you get back because you wished to watch him dance forever.

Your eyes flit down to the sliver of stomach that peeks from beneath his blazer when he raises his arms at the applause.

You swallow at the deep rumble of his voice as he thanks the crowd, turning to thank the back-up dancers too before he’s facing you again, hint of a smile on his face as he takes one final bow. The curtains falling from the ceiling, your hair tickling your neck at the short gust of wind it produces.

It takes a moment for you to gather yourself, mind reeling as you glance around the room. Entirely isolated, even with hundreds of people surrounding you.

You can’t see where your husband had wandered off to, swallowing down any apprehension you have as you sit back down, fingers gentle as they pick up the flute of champagne—too expensive for your tastes, and you hate to think just how much it costs. Much rather having the host spend that sort of money on the reason for this evening than wowing guests with expensive alcohol and high-end food. Because surely the fund raiser would fare better with all that money than the pompous assholes that laughed in the face of the less fortunate.

You almost jump out of your seat when a heavy hand lands on your shoulder, eyes wide as your tilt your head upwards to see who it could be. Heart hammering when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, flickering across his face.

You swallow, “Hi” you breathe, turning your body to face him a little better.

The corners of Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smile, piercings catching the light, “What’s a pretty girl doing sitting alone?”

He pulls out an empty chair beside you, your head flickering across all the empty chairs around the table, wondering where all your husband’s friends had gone.

“Oh just…” you start, turning back to look at him, words dissolving on your tongue when your eyes meet his.

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair a little, legs spread wide. His eyes flicker down to the ring on your finger.

“I thought your performance earlier was amazing” you rush, hands running over your silk dress. Perfect change of conversation.

Jungkook leans a little closer to you, reaching across the table a little to grab your glass of champagne. Your eyes stay trained on his lips as they wrap around the rim of the glass, breath catching in the back of your throat as he downs the rest of your drink.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name?” he urges, eyes sharp as they flicker across your face.

“Y/n” you breathe, “and you are…”

“Jungkook” he holds out his hand for you to shake. You take it, toes curling, imaginary electric current slipping down your body at his gentle touch.

“I could show you backstage if you like?” he offers, hands smothering down the imaginary creases in his suit, nodding towards the stage, “It’s pretty nice back there”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes scanning the room for a moment before you’re looking back at Jungkook nodding, “I would like that” you murmur, taking his hand when he offers it to you. He tugs you a little closer to his side once you’ve stood up, linking your arm with his as he walks the both of you around the maze of tables.

Not once does it cross your mind that all the people in the room can see you clinging onto another man, eyes glued to the side of his face as you paint a picture of him in your mind. After so many months of watching him perform on stage, a perfect entity so far out of reach, he was not stood beside you. Warm flesh radiating underneath his suit jacket, scar on his cheek deepened from the overhead lights, calloused hand holding yours.

Someone that had felt entirely unhuman, so long of yearning, but there he was, touching you like it were nothing and he weren’t one of your dreams. Silly little fantasies of a man that should never be yours, dreams of what days would be like with someone like Jungkook. Dreams that should have never been yours to begin with, not while the slippery claws of the law tie you to another man.

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, helps you up the stairs backstage. Narrow hallway entirely empty as he flicks the light on, “It’s truly wonderful back here” he tells you, not letting go of your hand once.

You look around in awe, head turning to look over the outfits hung on clothes racks as you walk by.

“We can order food in my dressing room? I assume you haven’t eaten yet and I don’t think they plan to bring dinner out for a while longer” he tells you, pulling a set of keys out the front pocket of his jacket, opening the door with ease.

“I am a little hungry” you hum, stepping into the dressing room, sitting on one of the couches when he motions for you to make yourself comfortable.

Your eyes flicker towards the door when he locks it, apprehension clawing its way up your body.

“Jungkook…?” you ask, gaze never leaving the lock, even as he slinks towards you, long steps across the room having him in front of you in no time.

“You’re tense” he sits beside you, hand running down the length of your arm, “Let me fix that”

You don’t miss the dark haze in his eyes, cunt clenching at the mere thought of a man of his calibre wanting you in any sort of way.

You swallow, eyes glancing down at his lips then back up to his eyes, “We can’t” you whisper.

“Why’s that?” he murmurs, fingers training over your thighs, silk dress soft under his fingertips.

“Because…” you start, swallowing down a whimper when his fingers graze your warm skin.

“Because” he urges, teasing as he inches his fingers that little big higher.

“Because my—” you swallow, Jungkook’s scoff cutting you off.

“Because of your incompetent husband?”

You tongue wets your bottom lip, fingers clenching by your side, “Yes” your voice breathless.

“Leave him” Jungkook groans, hand tugging yours closer to him, slipping the wedding ring off your finger.

You watch as he holds it, prickle of guilt building within your chest at the fact you don’t feel bad in the slightest for what you want from Jungkook, nor the fact he holds a symbol of love and you can only wish for him to take it forever, no longer yours. No longer a burden you wish to carry.

He slips it into the pocket of his jacket, leaning forward enough for the tip of his nose to kiss yours, short huff of a breath slipping past his lips. He tilts his head a little, gentle hesitation tugging at his body; leeway for you to pull away and stop this whenever you want.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket, tugging him towards you. A groan catches in the back of his throat when your lips collide with his, desperate need radiating from every pore of your electrified body—tongue prodding at his bottom lip.

“My darling” he breathes in the brief moment you part, though he wastes no time tilting your head backwards that little bit as he kisses you again.

You hum against his lips, eyes slipping shut as his hands wander the length of your body, thumbs digging into your hips, down the length of your thighs until he’s tugging at the hem of your dress.

Your pussy clenches as his fingers inch that little bit higher, moan caught by Jungkook as he ghosts over tender skin, pulling the fabric higher and higher until he’s brushing his knuckles over your panties. Damp beneath his fingers as he presses through your covered folds, your hips bucking upwards when he nudges your clit.

A breathy laugh is pulled from him as you rock forward a little, chasing the pleasure as he presses his thumb a little harder against your clit.

“Pretty girl” he murmurs, hand slipping from between your legs to tug at your dress, pulling it up and over your head.

Your arms fold over your bare chest, Jungkook’s tongue wetting his bottom lip as his eyes rake down the length of your body, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs.

“How beautiful” he says, bending down a little to press a gentle kiss over your collar bone. His hands leaving your thighs to tug your arms away from your chest, guttural groan vibrating from his chest.

You let out something similar to a squeak when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, goosebumps prickling up the skin of your arms at the flash of pleasure that shoots down your spine as his teeth graze over the sensitive skin.

Slick leaks into your panties as your hand grazes over the evident erection that strains behind the expensive fabric of his pant, cock twitching beneath the tips of your fingers as you squeeze his length.

“Want you” he ruts his hip upwards into your hand, tongue flat over your tits before he sucks at your warm skin, red blossoming with every mean little nip of his teeth. Claim of your body as his, evidence of his lust and your leaking pleasure that pools between your legs.

“You have me” you breathe, fiddling with the button of his dress pants, stumbling over yourself a little as he helps you lay back on the couch. He tugs your panties down your thighs, bottom lip tucking between his teeth as he watches the string of arousal that connects the cotton to your sodden pussy, all puffy and pretty. Clit erect and desperate, moan slipping off your lips when he leans down to press a kiss to the swollen little nub, pocketing your panties in his jacket.

“Jungkook” you moan, fingers digging into his hair, pulling him further into your pussy, hips rolling up into his face as he lays his tongue flat for you to ride.

He tugs down his pants and underwear just under his straining cock as you use him to get yourself off, shameless in your own pleasure as he moans into your pussy—incoherent whisper of how good you taste drowned out by the slick sound of your folds parting, fingers prodding at your entrance before sinking between your walls.

You clench around the intrusion, fingers tightening their hold on Jungkook’s hair as you moan out his name, mind nothing but lust filled mush, pleasure coursing through every inch of your body as he sucks on your clit.

“Gonna cum” you moan, fingers tugging at your nipples. Hiccup of his name catching in your throat at a particularly hard suck, thick fingers curling right over your sweet spot.

He presses a second finger into your, incessant nudge against your insides sending you reeling over the edge. A cry falling from your lips as you reach your peak, hips still rutting up into Jungkook’s mouth as you ride your high.

“Good girl” he murmurs against your pussy, fingers slipping out of you so he can drink down your release. Tip of his tongue pressing past your entrance to take whatever your body has to give him, cum coated fingers pressing slightly over your still buzzing clit, fiery pleasure thrumming beneath your skin.

“S’ too much” you whine, pushing his head from between your legs, sheen of your arousal coating his mouth and chin shiny.

Your eyes flicker down when something shiny catches the light, and they widen slightly when you see his hand wrapped around his thick cock, thumb running over the king’s crown piercing.

“Oh” you murmur, pussy clenching at the prospect of him being inside of you.

Jungkook hums, fingers squeezing tighter around his length, “You like it, baby?”

You swallow, tongue running over your bottom lip.

You nod, legs falling open a little wider for him, “Want it” you mumble, fingers parting your folds, silent invitation for him to split you open, fuck and fill you until you’re nothing than a pile of pleasure.

“Yeah?” his lips curl at the corners, hint of a smile showing.

“Mhmm” you nod, and his eyes catch sight of your cunt clenching.

“What do we say when we want something, baby?” he urges, scooting between your legs, pressing his cockhead through your folds, watching your hips jolt at the gentle stimulation to your clit.

You arch your back, dribble of slick caught by the tip of his cock as he slicks his length up with your arousal.

“Please, Jungkook” you breathe, “Please I need you”

“So good for me” he groans, thumb pressing just under his piercing, pressing his cock into you.

Your mouth falls open into a silent moan, ache throbbing down your length as his cock splits you open.

“Good girl” he murmurs, stomach tensing when you clench around his cock, piercing dragging deliciously against your walls.

“So good” you moan, hands finding his hips to pull him further inside of you, desperate for every agonising inch he had.

He holds himself inside of you, pelvis flushed with the backs of your thighs as he helps you rest your legs around his waist.

“Yeah, you feel good, baby?” he leans down, lips pressing against your jaw, fingers sinking into the flesh of your hips, gently rutting his cock into you, “Better than your husband could ever make you feel, yeah?”

He lets out a breathy laugh when he feels you clench around his girth, thighs twitching at his words.

“Come on baby, tell me how much better I make you feel” he taunts, dragging an inch of his cock out of you, distressed whine tumbling past your lips as your pussy clenches, trying to pull his cock back into you.

“Tell me” one of his hands takes hold of your jaw, tugging your face so your eyes meet his, “Tell me”

“You make me feel better than he does” you mumble.

“Louder” he shakes your head a little.

“You make me feel better” you say a little louder, chest tightening.

“Than who?” he urges, thumb running over your bottom lip, pressing into your mouth and over your tongue.

“My husband” you slur, mouth tugged open by his thumb.

“And who do you belong to?”

You blink up at Jungkook, drool gathering in the corners of your lips, such a pretty little thing. Ever so messy and desperate, awfully cute if you asked Jungkook.

“Who?”

You swallow, pussy clenching, “You”

“Mmhmm” he hums, “that’s right, all mine”

You rut your hips upwards, clit dragging against his stomach, thrum of pleasure making your toes curl, eyes still trained on Jungkook as you try and get yourself off.

He tugs at the corner of your mouth, thumb pressing into your cheek, watching as the skin bulges. And he wonders briefly what you’d look like with his cock stuffed in your mouth, pretty eyes blinking up at him like they did when he performed on stage; like he held all the secrets to the world in the palms of his hands. Those same hands that would smother your body with his love, dimpling pretty skin and pulling you back onto his cock.

“Jungkook” you whine, hips rutting a little more desperately, so needy for a second orgasm.

“A needy little thing, that’s what you are” his lips curl into a smile, thumb falling from your mouth as his hips pull backwards, your thighs quivering at the drag of his piercing inside of you.

He pulls out until the tip, hands tugging your thighs open a little wider before he’s snapping back into you, relentless as he picks up his pace. He holds you by the backs of your knees, angling your body that little bit off the couch, cockhead pressing against your sweet spot with every rough jab back into you.

“Shit, that’s good” he groans, wet smack back into you echoing off the walls of the dressing room.

You moan a staccato of his name, nothing but how good his cock fills you up in your mind, so entirely full of Jungkook in every respect of the word.

He doesn’t slow down, rhythmic with every thrust back into you, pussy clenching as your fingers slide down the length of your body, pressing over your sensitive clit.

“I’m close” you moan, free hand dragging down the length of his arm, grabbing at the fabric of his suit as your back arches.

“Come for me, baby” he groans, “Make a mess of my cock”

Your hand slips from his arm, grabbing hold of your chest as you continue to flick your clit, moan catching in the back of your throat as you slip head first into your orgasm.

Jungkook watches your face contour in pleasure, snapping his cock into you sloppy. He twitches between your walls, fingers digging into you a little harder, staving off his orgasm for as long as he can while you ride out your high, mind so far gone, eyes glazed over as you look up at him.

“That’s it, baby” his voice is gruff, pressing his cock against your sweet spot, your hips jolting, pleasure slipping into odd tingly overstimulation as he ruts into you, your fingers still pressing over your clit.

Jungkook moans, cock slipping out of you, his hand quick to wrap around his length. Slick noise reverberating in your ears as he brings himself over the edge, angling his cock so his cum paints your stomach. Thick string of white coating your skin, spurts of it shooting out of his cock. His stomach tenses, eyes slipping shut as he squeezes his cockhead, final spurt of his seed slipping just over your clit, joining the wet mess of your cunt as it slips down your folds.

“That’s a good girl” he groans, letting go of his softening cock.

He looks at you down the length of his nose, watching as you smear his cum over your skin, absolutely fascinated as it clings to your fingers.

His cock stirs in interest when you dip your fingers into your mouth, tongue licking up his release.

“You little minx” he laughs, bringing your legs back down, bending to press a kiss to your cum stained lips.

Your eyes slip shut as he kisses you, any tension left in your body dissolving as his tongue licks up his own release from your lips.

“Leave him” Jungkook murmurs, mouth hovering over yours, eyes still closed as the both of you bask in your afterglow. Skin sweat tacky, cooling slowly as his fingers dance over your skin, final humming of pleasure beneath your skin fizzling away.

“I can’t” you breathe.

“Run away then” he says, “with me”

Your eyes slip open, hand holding Jungkook’s jaw.

“Jungkook” you warn.

“What?” he mumbles, eyes slipping open to meet your own, “We can go somewhere far, he won’t find you… he won’t find us”

You wet your bottom lip, mind reeling as you weigh out your options.

“He doesn’t love you” his thumb runs over your cheek.

“I know” you whisper, eyes flickering between his, “But do you?”

Jungkook swallows, “Not as much as I want to, but that doesn’t mean what I’m feeling isn’t love”

You glance over at the clock on the wall, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as silence stretches out between the both of you.

You let out a long sigh, “We have an hour at most… before he’ll come looking”

Jungkook can’t help the smile that tugs onto his lips, “Then we should get going?”

The corners of your own lips tug upwards, “Yes… I suppose we should” you say, taking the hand he offers to help you sit up.

“Don’t make me regret this” you warn him as you slip your dress over your head, cringing at the drying cum that clings to your skin.

“I won’t” he promises.

[cillians-sweetheart]

The Marriage - Cillian Murphy

Cillian Murphy!Husband (34) x Virgin!Fem!Reader (18)

Plot: During the Middle-bronze age (The era of the bible's setting), a young girl reaches womanhood and is now marriageable and ripe to conceive.

(Story is based off the novel, The Red Tent by Anita Diamant)

Contents: Religious themes/rituals, speak of menstruation, arranged marriage, slight submission/praise (f receiving), smut, age-gap, oral (f receiving), unprotected pv, and breeding in a semi-public setting.

Let's just say for this scenario that she was a late bloomer and is 18. To prevent controversy.

My sisters gathered around me, with their blessings and songs of prayer. I cried of relief, as they each kissed the delicate skin on my hands and face. After the several, devastating years of being seen as nothing more than an unripe child who cannot marry, I woke to bleed my first blood. 

Circled around me within the red tent, my sisters praised my ripening of womanhood. With great love they sang the song of the seventy gods, announcing the birth of my womb, “Whose fairness is like Anath’s fairness, Whose beauty like Astarte’s beauty. Astarte is now in your womb, You bear the power of Elath.” 

I was fed sweet bread by the hands of the women, and drank fruity wine. Henna was rubbed onto my fingernails, and my eyelids were painted yellow. Every sacred jewel and gem owned by my mothers and sisters, coated my fingers and toes, and my wrists and ankles. Their voices sang with an aura of a goddess. Enchanting my sacred womb with the magic of fertility, and coming birth. 

Aromatic oils were messaged on my belly, and my feet by my oldest sister Leah; a loving mother of eight. She was one of the most blessed amongst the four of my sisters. The rest have from only one to two boys due to an almost fatal labor lasting them days and days on of bleeding and suffering.

I slept through the night with my sisters laying on my sides, their arms interlaced around me as they each whispered to me with worship of my wedding and birthing to come. “A husband is the only man to take the robes from your body, to give you life to grow.” Leah’s gentle fingers ran through the strands of my hair. “That was my fathers teaching about husbands and wives… Until you rise from your monthly bleed, you shall become a bride.” Those were the last words I heard from Leah before I had fallen asleep. 

The day of the new moon, and the ending of the week, I was brought to the wedding feast, surrounded by my sisters, and my mothers and aunties. A mother of mine knelt down to me, holding my hands in hers. “On my wedding night, my love, I was happier than I had ever been.” Her tone was wise as she gazed up into my shivering, virgin eyes. “But I was filled with dread. Fearing my husband would turn away from me in disgust.” She spoke to give me comfort but also a warning as any mother would do. Coming to my side, Leah said over my mother, “I thought the day would never end,” She added, laying the veil over my frightened face. “I could not be seen through my veil, nor could I see out clearly, but my husband Jacob stood to help me to my feet, leading me to the tent where we spent the seven days.”

As a young girl I always heard the gossiping stories from my sisters and aunties of the days with their husbands. Those first seven nights they’d spend together with lust and the temporary love of a first marriage. And soon after the swelling of their bellies and ankles, to the deathly, bloody birth of a beautiful baby. 

After the feast of bread and lamb, I was brought to a man. His eyes shone down to me through my veil with a bright blue, and his skin was pale, and freckled. He wasn’t much so like the rest of the man. Not smelling of goats, and with good health. 

The man introduced himself as Cillian. A man who was well spoken of throughout the site by my aunts and mothers. His large, but gentle hands lifted mine to where he kissed both lovingly. 

“My angel… I take you as my wife, and as the beautiful mother to our children.” His voice was low and silky to my ears. From there he had led me to the tent where my sisters gathered and blessed me with their kisses and words of prayer. I felt hardly able to breath but excited about my marriage, and womanhood. I followed Cillian into the tent where I’d lay with him for the next lustful seven days. 

My mother told me my husband would only lift up my robes and enter me still wearing his. From there his large but delicate hands ran over my shoulders and down my chest. His warm body came closer to me. The heat from his chest radiating between us. My eyes closed and my mind melted to his touch along my chest, slowly tearing away my robe.

The land around us began to quieten, and darken as the sun grew red along the horizon. My veil was not to be removed until darkness occurred. And when it did his eyes held pure love to my face as he lifted the veil. His gentle hands took my face. Holding my cheeks.

My hands reached out to his waist, reaching up and down his slim torso. He reached my face to his lips, kissing my cheeks, my lips, and the tip of my nose. With my hands I pulled myself closer against his body. I felt something I’ve never had before feeling his body. It was a real man, who would bless me with many sons. Sons as handsome, and gentle as their dear father.

My robe in slow, controlled motion, rolled down my shoulders and over my chest. I was revealed before my husband in the darkening tent. A hand from my cheek came down to my breast. He messages the squishy flesh while his kiss continues to seduce my lips.

His sex -as my sisters always told me- hardened against my stomach. The heat through his robe filled my belly with sensitivity, and caused my thighs to pulse.

Cillian began to lead me to the bed, where he laid back. His lips barely parted from mine as he gently lowered me. From there his plump lips slid and pecked at my soft neck. His kiss was tender, and with great passion as they traveled down my chest and over my hardened nipples. My hands ran up his back as I watched his sweet lips kiss lustfully down my bare torso. His hands explored my thighs, rubbing and spreading them between his head.

My tingling hips and thighs shivered as he kissed with his tongue deep between my legs. My core tightened and I inhaled deeply. I felt things through every nerve of my little body; new, pleasurable things.

He praised my virgin sex with his delicate kisses. Between his lips, he called me his angel, his beloved, his precious wife. He kissed, and licked me until the tightness beneath his robe became too much to handle.

Cillian lifted himself from between my shivering thighs and quickly pulled at the tent in his robe. I laid on my back looking up at his godly, handsome face. Then to his hands as he eagerly revealed his pulsing cock. Cut and cleaned so perfectly. The kind my sisters would giggle and praise about.

He held my legs open and rubbed with his cock between them over my soft, wet flesh. His hands messaged at my thighs, while teasing himself along my smooth folds. My heart pounded through my chest with nervousness, and anticipation to feel what my sisters and mothers would crave from a man; their husbands.

With a slow, easy thrust of his hips, I was opened for the first time. My womb filled with the wet pleasure of a man. His hips sunk deep against mine. Although it stung as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper, the pleasure in my stomach, and womb ached. I felt the breath in my chest get heavy, my exhales coming out as a high pitched moan of pleasure.

He continued to thrust against me, his pace increasing as he gave in to his dominant urges. My hips lifted and my legs wrapped tightly around his torso. I reached, and held onto him. Burying my moans into his muscular shoulder.

His breath was heavy, and made low, sensual groans. I reached his face, and kissed deeply on his lips. My sex flexed against his, causing him to moan, and shiver from on top of me. My legs began to twitch, and clenched tightly around Cillian. Our lips were moaning between one another's. Becoming increasingly loud and pleasurable to those who listen from outside.

My sisters, and mothers gathered within their tents and prayed for the fertilization of a healthy baby boy. And as one of my mothers once said, "The woman's orgasm is essential for a happy, healthy birth." Which was exactly what I was trying to do, and though I've never felt sexual release, I could tell by my immense pleasure that it was coming. Deep, internal tickles caused my legs to quiver around Cillian's slim torso, and my tight walls to squeeze his cock with a loving force.

He groaned deeply and his hips thrusted harder into me. The increased pleasure made our love making able to be heard through many tents. With the sweet sounds of pleasurable whispers and moans.

Wetness spread along both of our heated bodies. I felt myself leaking -as if I had been peeing myself- on the bed below us and onto his enlarged, pulsing cock. My back lifted, and again he quickened his beating to my soft flesh. More of my fluids continued to push against him and leak from my aroused entrance. I bit onto my tongue as the feelings, and my uncontrollable moans became too much. My sex, legs, and arms squeezed tightly around him. Shaking and whimpering my way through the sensitive pleasure.

With his last few forceful trusts, He groaned such a sexy sound and twitched from within my womb. I held onto his hot, sweaty body. His lips kissed lovingly on my neck, and I kissed onto his head.

We laid in ones another's arms, praying with our love that a son will be born. Before we were to sleep, Cillian laid gentle kisses along my womb through my belly. His touch was praising as he rubbed and kissed my body. Again kissing the sweet arousal from my wet sex.

In the blackened tent, we slept in the warmth and love between our bodies. Behind my bare back he laid, his arm over my torso, lovingly stroking my cheek and shoulder until I had fallen asleep.

In my sleep I made great prayers to have a full, rounded womb. Filled with life, and love of an infant. A boy, with the beautiful sex of his father, and the handsome looks to gain many, many wives and children.

[bones4thecats]

➸ Your Wedding Day; Idia Shroud × S/O

Character: Idia Shroud A/N: This was something that I've wanted to write for quite a while, so I'm happy I finally got my Idia-wedding ideas out and posted for you guys to see. Hope you fellow Idia simps enjoy! Disclaimer(s): Reader's dress, Idia's suit, and song to listen too

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Idia Shroud ════════════════════════════╝

🎮 We all know this guy enjoys his privacy, and that includes privacy with you (of course it does, why wouldn't it?)

🎮 You happily handed him a list of some ideas for your wedding, to which he just sighed and set his headphones down to read over. Ever since College ended, he had been working more and more with S.T.Y.X., so whenever he got some free time, he'd either play games or rest with you

🎮 More than not, he would just sleep with you right beside him. The guy's tried, give him a break

🎮 But, when he proposed, he did not expect such a long list of things you guys needed to decide on for your wedding. He figured that you'd have it all laid out and not worry about it like a character in a show/movie

🎮 As he read the list over, he put tiny skulls by whatever he found that he liked the idea of. Cost wasn't a big deal, but he knew that you wanted a smaller wedding when you guys spent your second-year anniversary together

🎮 He agreed with the idea, but never gave it a second thought. Rookie mistake.

🎮 Idia handed you back the list and you then put check-marks besides the ones you agreed with him on. Your big-day was in only 9 weeks, so getting everything else laid out was something you guys needed to get done immediately

🎮 Snapping his headphones back on as you made call after call and message after message, Idia let his mind wander onto what he dreamt your wedding would look like. From flowers to you in your dress, it didn't matter. It was all there

🎮 When your wedding finally came, your soon-to-be-husband was having a nervous breakdown. Though, why wouldn't he be? He was an introvert having to go up there in front of people and confess his love to you

🎮 While yes, it was all people both you and him knew extremely well, it was still a lot of people!

🎮 His father walked up behind him and smiled, his blue-flame hair matching his son's as he put the brooch of a gem-eyed skull on his suit

"You look so awesome, big brother!" Ortho said from behind their father.

"Thanks, O'. How's Y/N doing?" He asked.

"She's doing great! She looks beyond amazing in her dress! You're gonna be a big strawberry when you see her go down the isle."

🎮 Idia smiled and looked at himself in the mirror, the long flame hair that he always kept loose without any care for, all neatly put together in a brushed-up style with a bow keeping it behind his shoulders. This was what you wanted, so it was what you were going to get

"Boys! Come on! Wedding's about to start!" Mrs. Shroud said from the doorway, causing all three Shroud boy's hair to erupt before settling again. Thankfully it didn't burn anything...

"We're on out way, dear!" Mr. Shroud answered.

🎮 Mr. Shroud looked back at his sons and smiled, planting his new face-only helmet back on his head, his hair sticking out, as it was shorter, but brighter in terms of fire-light

"Let's head out to see your new chapter, Idia."

══✿══╡

🎮 Idia stood there before you, hair all nice, while you stood before him, your long white dress standing out while your veil was draped in front of your face, much to your future husband's dismay. It was hard to find comfort in your eyes without straining his eyes to look beyond the thin fabric

"Now, let's get these vows out, shall we?" The Minister said.

🎮 You smiled and looked at Idia, motioning for him to start. He just took a deep breath, taking a simple glance at his mother, whom was standing behind you as one of her bridesmaids, to which she nodded

🎮 Idia looked deep in your eyes and spoke from his heart. Like I said, no planning involved for this poor boy

"Y/N. You were like the boss that I couldn't defeat. I feared everyone in College, but you just kept coming back and I couldn't seem to put up a firewall to keep you away from me. Every time I heard you were somewhere, I felt the urge to go there just to see your face and hear your laughter. I was at your mercy, and your mercy alone. Ever since the first date we had years ago, I just wanted... no... I needed you to always be by my side. I love you, and I hope you feel the same in your heart."

🎮 You smiled and raised your hand under your veil to wipe a stray tear from your face as you then looked into his eyes and spoke your own vows

"Idia, you were everything I could've asked for. That may sound weird, but it's the truth. When I first met you, I thought you'd be one of the most difficult people to deal with, but I could never have been more wrong. You were charming in your own way, and you still are, without even trying! The way you link in technology in when you speak, the way you furrow your eyebrows when speaking, to the way your eyes shimmer when you find like or do something successfully, it's all enchanting to me. And I never want to let that enchantment go. And I never plan on it. I love you so much, Idia, forever and always."

🎮 He smiled at you as the Minister called for the rings, making Ortho come up and hand you both your wedding wings. Yours to Idia's being black with dark-blue colored edges, while Idia's to you was also black-ringed with a shining blue, heart-shaped gemstone on the top

🎮 You looked into his eyes once more as you placed the jewelry on his ring-finger while he did the exact same afterwards. All of his anxiety was now gone, nobody else was there besides you and him in his mind. You two were the only things that mattered

"You may kiss the bride." The Minister announced, stepping back for you both.

🎮 Idia lifted your veil before grabbing your waist and holding one side of your cheek with his hand and laying his forehead on yours, slowly moving to close the gap between your lips

🎮 Everyone cheered as you left one another's kiss and smiled, hugging one another as he whispered into your ear before setting off for the after-party with the people who attended your day

"I love you so damn much, Y/N."

[troublesomesnitch]

Phonesex with Aemond

Modern!Aemond x Reader

Modern AU - Aemond calls you after the dinner fight, and you cheer him up in the best way you can.

Contents: some quick smut. New relationship, mentions of oral sex, p in v sex and brief anal exploration (f receiving).

Warnings: brief mention of terminal illness.

Words: 3300

Thank you @arcielee for test-reading, tidying and generally helping out with this little experimental fic!

It has been six days since Aemond kissed you goodbye and shoved his skis and his snow gear and his aluminium suitcase into the back of a taxi. Six days, and you haven't heard from him since, not a single message, and no indication that he's read yours either. Six days, and the farewell kiss was just a sterile peck on the side of your mouth, because the driver was watching, and Aemond was in a foul mood already.

You suppose the thought of two weeks with one's extended family can do that to a person. And especially when one's family is as messy as Aemond's.

They're in the tabloids sometimes, Aegon with a model on his arm, Rhaenyra spotted topless in Ibiza, Viserys leaving the hospital looking more dead than alive. Old money, and every bit the stereotype too, with their luncheons and country estates and public feuds over inheritance. And the incident, of course. But Aemond never talks about that.

The family trip is solely his father's idea. Or, his father's command, really. His final wish; that they should all spend one last Christmas together at the chalet, eating venison and going cross-country skiing and whatever else rich people do on their alpine retreats. It is all very Town & Country, so far removed from anything you know. They have a coat of arms, for fucks sake, and Aemond wears it engraved on the back of his watch; on the cufflinks that sit in a velvet box atop his dresser. For special occasions, and you'd be lying if you said the thought had never crossed your mind: Aemond in coat and tie and cufflinks, yourself decked out in white and his mother's antique veil. Champagne fountain and monogrammed napkins and an article in Vogue Weddings. Double spread.

But you're getting way ahead of yourself. You have only been seeing each other for about three months, and it is still very new and foreign. Terrifying as well, and your heart leaps to your throat when your phone starts ringing and Aemond's name lights up on the screen.

Six days, and it's a quarter to midnight now, so that almost makes it seven.

"Hey," he says softly. "Did I wake you?"

"No!“ you exclaim, a little too excitedly despite your efforts to sound casual. “I was just watching something. How's St. Moritz?"

"Fine," he says, but it doesn't sound at all convincing, and there's a faint sound in the background. Like a scraping noise, and you imagine that he's picking at his cuticles; at the little chips in his nails.

"Aemond," you call, somewhat alarmed by the silence. "Is everything okay?"

The scraping gets louder before it finally stops and Aemond says sort of.

There was a fight at supper, apparently. An actual fight, with punching and shoving and everything. Straight out of Real Housewives, only even more insane, and Aemond started it, because of course he did. And all because of a stupid joke his nephew made.

"Isn't he like, fourteen?" you ask, and Aemond sighs on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Something like that".

Jesus.

You are tempted to ask him why he would do such a thing, but you kind of already know. Because of his father, because of his sister, because of the incident. Because Viserys would rather dote on his grandsons than his own children, and because Aemond has chronic pains, and the prosthetic gets itchy, and he dented his car when he couldn't see how close that concrete pillar actually was.

And probably also because he doesn't hold his liquor very well.

"Aemond, you're a grown man," you begin, and your voice is kind and gentle, but you can almost hear how he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean, I understand why you'd be upse - angry, but like. He's a child."

"I know," he sighs, shuffling around with something. "I shouldn't have done it.”  

There's the click of a lighter and then a deep exhale as he blows out smoke, and it reminds you of when you first met. You used to watch Aemond all the time before you worked up the courage to talk to him. He would lean so leisurely against the wall, cigarette in hand and that haughty smirk on his lips; leather jacket, black jeans, hair artfully tousled and tied back. Tall and handsome and just so fucking cool.

"Thought you quit," you tease, and it sounds a little chiding, but it isn't meant like that.

"I did," Aemond says. "I got this one from my uncle - it would have been rude to decline.”

He is quiet then, but it's a sort of contemplative silence. Like somehow you can feel there is more.

"It pisses me off," he finally says. "This whole charade - it's exhausting.”

Yes, you think. It must be. All of his family trapped under the same roof, forced to confront so many painful memories, yet act as though none of it ever happened. Smile and laugh and play house, and all so Viserys Targaryen can pretend he was a better man. Go to his grave with the comfortable illusion that he did not create the rift that tore his family apart.

If Aemond was with you right now, you would wrap your arms around him and kiss his face and his lovely hands, but all you can do at this moment is give a weak yeah, I understand.

"It has been the most miserable week," he moans. "Although - Aegon did fall off a lift today. He's fine, it was just a T-bar. But that was fun."

You giggle. "Oh, poor Aegon.”

"It was his own fault," Aemond snorts. "He had Jägerbombs for lunch. Anyway - " he clears his throat, back to the brooding mood and somber voice. "I'm sorry I called you so late. And for not being in touch. And for... everything else.”

"It's fine," you shrug. "I don't mind. But, Aemond - " you pause, thinking of how best to word the next part, "I think you should at least consider apologising to -"

"No." he cuts in. "Absolutely not.”

There's an awkward silence then, and you worry you might have overstepped your boundaries. He is so difficult to read sometimes, so elusive. You never quite know what he needs from you, sympathy, or flattery, or reassurance, or nothing at all.

You can, however, think of a way to distract him from his brooding. And maybe sex isn't the healthiest way to cope with one's issues, but still. It is miles better than beating up family members.

You twirl a lock of hair around your finger, even though he can’t see it. "What are you doing right now? Are you alone?"

“Yes,“ he says, curious. “Why?”

"What are you wearing?"

"Same thing I always wear," he responds, but then his voice turns coy and teasing, and he asks "what are you wearing?"

You look down at your fuzzy socks, your faded shorts, the worn-out knickers underneath.

"Honestly? Not anything nice."

Aemond laughs, a real laugh this time, and then he tells you just make something up.

The first thing that comes to your mind is that dress you saw the other day. Aemond would like it. He is not into extravagant lingerie and things like that, always likes it best when you are just you. Dry patches on your lips, bruises on your legs and all. Natural. 

But he is still a man though. So, not too natural.

"I'm wearing - I'm wearing a little slip. Silk, and it's the prettiest colour. It is soft to the touch," - you run a finger up your thigh, imagining it - "and it is very short. My legs are out and everything. And my tits look so good in it.”

"They always do," Aemond says, and he sounds a little husky when he asks what is underneath?

"Those panties you liked last time. With the little bows on them?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "I remember.”

"Good. Just the panties, and nothing else. And the dress is so thin - it feels like nothing when you touch it."

You lay back on top of your bed, your hand working its way down the waistband of your sleeping shorts, phone pressed to your ear. 

"I want to touch you," Aemond sighs, voice all soft and gentle. "I want to feel your body against mine.”

You blush. He is quite the romantic sometimes. Jesus, Aemond is so out of your league. You can hardly believe he'd even look in your direction, let alone kiss you and hold you and let you sleep with your head on his chest.

"Aemond" you whisper, slowly stroking your between your legs. "I'm getting all wet. All wet for you".

His breath hitches, and there's a faint oh, followed by the rustling of fabric as he palms himself over his pants. Lowering his voice and breathing touch yourself.

"I already am" you purr. "I wish it was you, though. Wish you could feel how much I want you."

Aemond says fuck, he wishes that too. You're getting him so hard. So hard just thinking about your pretty cunt.

"I'd like to suck your cock" you sigh longingly, and he immediately responds with a sharp breath that makes warmth spread in your stomach.

"Wait -" he mutters. "Hang on".

You hear the metallic clink of his belt, the sound of his zipper, and you bite your lip thinking about what he's doing. Taking his stiff cock in hand, brushing slender fingers along the shaft, running a thumb over the tip to collect the little drops that have already leaked from it. He has the prettiest cock, long and thick and veiny. Uncut, and blushing red at the tip when you slide his foreskin back. 

How you wish you could feel it in your mouth.

"Tell me how you'd do it" Aemond pleads, and there's a slight strain in his voice that suits it so well. 

"I'll start out slow," you whisper, "with just my tongue and my hand. Get your cock big and hard before I take you in my mouth. And then I'll wrap my lips around the head, and I'll press my tongue against the little slit there. And - and I’ll lick the tip of your cock until you’re begging me for more.”

He sighs, and you can hear how his hand settles into a steady rhythm, up and down over his hard cock. Filthy. 

You close your eyes and continue.

"I'd take you so deep, all the way to the back of my throat. And I would tease you - I'd be real fucking mean. I want you leaking in my mouth, all needy and desperate for me. Like, so you can barely hold it back anymore. You'd be ready to explode.”

"Don't stop - " he pants, still keeping up the stroking, pausing just briefly to spit into his hand.

"I'll edge you before I let you come. So many times, you'll be desperate for release. I want your balls so tight and heavy - all tender from how much you need to come - ”

Aemond moans, and he's stroking himself faster, tugging and tugging and filling his bedroom with damp, lewd noises. You know how he likes it; firm grip when he moves up, slack going back down, slight twist at the tip.

"And then?"

"I'd let you come in my mouth."

"No," he breathes. "I want to come inside of you.”

You give a little giggle; he always wants that. Occasionally he’ll finish all over your breasts, or in your mouth, but mostly he likes it the old fashioned way. Your bodies molded together and his cock pulsing deep inside of you. Pressing his forehead to yours or moaning into the back of neck. 

You like that too - but there are other things you might like to try as well. 

"You should come on my panties," you say coyly. "Like, inside them. And then I'd wear them all day, and just walk around with your cum between my legs.”

Aemond groans again, loudly, hoarse and strained and so fucking hot.

"You'd like that?" you tease. "I would feel it there all day. All wet and warm in my little panties. Right against my cunt."

"Fuck," he moans. "Fuck - I'd like that so much."

The sounds of his tugging get louder and faster, and you picture him laid out on his bed, cock throbbing in his hand, hips thrusting up and up into his own grip. Lone eye closed and mouth falling open. 

He lets out a soft moan, and a whine - and then the stroking abruptly stops. Close call, that one. Aemond curses, and you can hear him taking deep breaths, calming his body, halting the mounting need to ejaculate. Too soon.

“Can't wait to have you,” he mutters, and you give a quiet hum in response. 

“Please tell me how.”

He takes a slow, steadying breath.

"I want to be on top of you" he whispers, low, so no one will hear.  "Don't care if you're on your back or what, as long as you're underneath me".

"I'd be on my stomach. You can fuck me from behind".

“Yes,” he sighs. “I want to put my cock so deep inside you. I want you to feel how hard you make me. And I'll pin you down - I'll hold you in place when I take you" - his voice goes all ragged as he starts to slowly stroke his cock again - "fuck you're so beautiful when you're under me."

You mewl, and Aemond’s breath hitches.

“Yeah, and I'll fuck you slow, but hard. I want you squirming on my cock…”  he trails off, and for a moment there is only the sound of heavy breathing, his and yours. 

You had paused your own ministrations before, too focused on finding the right words, but now you begin your gentle stroking again. Underneath your knickers, fingers massaging right over your clit, so good that you let out a little whimper. 

“I love feeling you inside of me” you breathe, “I love it when you lie on top of me - ”

“Yeah?” He gasps, and you bite your lip. 

“Yeah. And I love it when you touch my - ass. Oh It feels so good when you touch me like that…”

Just saying it makes you a little flustered. You would not consider yourself very prudish, but there are some things that make you feel bashful, and this is one of them, the things he does to your backside when you’re together. And Aemond knows, and maybe that makes it even more arousing for him, the filthiness of it, the taboo. 

“How” he moans, his tone urgent and so incredibly intimate. “How do you want me to touch you -”

You have to take a very deep breath before you continue - you feel so sheepish, talking about that, but you are a woman in love, so for Aemond you’ll do your best. 

“I want you to slide your hand down my back and in between my cheeks,” you whisper, blushing all over. “It makes me so wet… feels so good when you caress me there - when you brush your fingers right over my tight little hole while you’re fucking me - maybe next time I’ll let you slip one inside…“

Aemond gives a strangled groan at that, quickening his strokes and hissing oh fuck. He is so close now, you can hear it. 

“Say my name” he begs, breathing so fast and tugging frantically on his cock. All hard and swollen now, his hips thrusting up, his balls pulling tight; oh you can imagine it so easily. 

“Aemond” you whisper. “Aemond, my love” - he moans louder, strokes harder - Aemond, I want you to fuck me, I want to feel your big, hard cock - 

Aemond chokes out a sob, and you say his name one last time as he reaches his peak. 

He holds back when he comes, muffling the helpless groans and grunts that you always love so much. But you can hear his strained sighs, his ragged breaths, and the sound is only slightly distorted through the speaker. If you close your eyes it's like he's there with you, gasping right in your ear. 

Oh you can’t wait to see him again, to get to touch him, cuddle up to him at night and run your finger down the perfect angle of his nose.

"You didn't come," Aemond says, accusingly, and you hold back a chuckle because he doesn't like it when you laugh at him. But it is as amusing as it is sweet, this need of his to do everything to perfection. Like if every time he is intimate with you isn't the BEST sex of your life, then he has failed as a lover; as a man.

“I did it on purpose” you reassure. “I'm saving it for you. All for you. Only for you.”

Aemond gives a somewhat dissatisfied hum, but he is occupied with something else now, moving around and fiddling with things. Cleaning himself up, you suppose. If only you were there to do it for him, you'd lick his cum right off his skin.

There is a loud noise in the background all of a sudden, someone knocking on Aemond’s door, and he scrambles to make himself presentable and tells you to hang on. The sounds are muffled - you assume he is covering the microphone - but you can hear another man's voice, and Aemond saying yes, I'll be right down, and then just fuck off, will you when the intruder won't take a hint.

"Sorry about that," he says awkwardly. "Aegon wants to go out. I should go with him".

You giggle at the thought - it is difficult to imagine Aemond at one of those tacky aprés-ski bars, glow stick and vodka-cranberry in hand. “Sounds fun!”

"Yeah, well, my mother would want me to,” he says sullenly. "You know, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

"What's the age of consent in Switzerland?" you jest, but Aemond just gives an exasperated sigh and mutters too bloody low.

You pause, unsure of what to say next, and again there's that loaded silence until he clears his throat.

"I will tell them about you. My family - I'll tell them soon. I promise.”

You can feel heat rising in your cheeks. 

Aemond purposely keeps you far away from his family, and he’ll go to great lengths to avoid running into them when you’re together. In fact he prefers not to go out at all, and you have never questioned it or complained. He’s got you hook, line and sinker - could tell you right to your face that he was embarrassed to be seen with you, and you would still be at his beck and call. 

You shrug. “It's fine. Don't worry about it. You don't have to tell them. It's fine.”

“No it isn't,” he says gravely. “You're important to me. So I should treat you as such.”

He says something else after that too, but you aren't listening, still stuck on the words you just heard. You're important to me. You're important.

It makes your heart leap with joy, and you are only pulled back to reality when Aemond calls out your name, and then sweetheart?

He doesn't call you that very often. It is always so nice when he does.

“Sorry” you blush. “I zoned out. But - I've missed you. I miss you. It's nice to hear your voice again.”

There's no way to tell, but somehow you feel like Aemond is smiling.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yours too.”

You tell him to have fun with Aegon and whatever horrid establishment they end up at, and Aemond tells you goodnight and says he'll call you as soon as he's back home. He doesn't say he misses you too, but that's okay. You know he does.

Because you're important.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Left at the Altar - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / (Ex-Girlfriend) Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Light Angst; Drama; Getting Left at the Altar (Not by Hangman); Asshole Ex (Not Hangman); Second Person POV ("You"), No Y/N, No Physical Description for the Reader

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: When you get left at the altar, a familiar face swoops in to save the day.

Edit: Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

Master List

Ever hit rock bottom? Well, you thought you did. And then you got stood up at your own wedding.

Staring up at the altar, you slowly sat down in the front pew. You sat your bouquet down beside you and reached up to pull out the pins holding your veil in place. You definitely weren’t going to need them. Not after the text message that you received from your ex-fiancé.

That’s right. You got dumped on your wedding day through a text message.

And frankly, the part about the whole situation that annoyed you the most was the fact that you should have been the one to dump him. You were the one who threatened to call the wedding off months ago when you found some suspicious text messages between your fiancé and a woman labelled as ‘Domino’s’ in his phone.

As if anyone texted Domino’s about their secluded lake house.

You should have just pulled the plug on the whole thing when you had the chance. Instead, you let him dump and humiliate you publicly.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced around the small church. Most of the guests filed out when it became apparent that there was a runaway groom. All of the people that remained in the church were a few close friends and immediate family members.

Your ex-fiancé’s family stood awkwardly in the corner, not really sure what to do. There wasn’t a really good or efficient way to apologize for their cowardly bastard of a son without suffering some rather intense glares from your family and friends. You already gave the engagement ring back to your ex-fiancé’s mom, since it was supposedly a family heirloom.

Maybe you should have just flushed it down the toilet instead.

You looked forward again when your mom walked over to you. She gave you a small, comforting smile as she pushed your veil and bouquet to the side and sat down beside you. Your mom stared up at the altar for a moment, seemingly walking through what she was going to say to you. She reached out and grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be okay, sweetie,” she whispered to you. “You’ll get past this.”

“I know,” you replied, nodding slowly. “I know, Mom.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No,” you replied softly, shaking your head. Letting out a breath, you turned back to your mom with a composed expression. “Why don’t you and everyone else go and eat at the venue? It’d be stupid to let all of that food go to waste. We already paid for it.”

“Actually, his family offered to pay for everything. Even your dress,” your mom explained, glancing over at your supposed-to-be in laws. “They were extremely embarrassed.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you drawled sarcastically, shaking your head. You let out a breath before you turned back to your mom. “Has Dad calmed down?”

“Somewhat. He calmed down a lot when they offered to pay for everything. But I worry for your ex if he ever crosses paths with your father again.”

“If he’s smart—which he’s not—he’ll avoid the entire county,” you replied, pursing your lips together. “He’s probably sitting at his lake house with ‘Domino’s’ right now.”

“That’s unfortunate for him,” your mom told you, causing you to nod in return.

“Damn straight.”

You and your mom shared a small smile before you sobered up for a moment. Glancing around the church, you leaned back in your pew. You turned to your mom and suddenly felt like you were a teenager again and needed her to help you with a situation that you got yourself in.

“Do you think that I could be alone for a bit?” you asked softly, folding your arms across your lap.

“Are you sure? I don’t think that you should be alone right now, sweetheart,” your mom replied, grabbing your hand. “Why don’t you just come to the venue with the rest of us? You can burn the dress if you want to, but just come with us.”

“I will, Mom, but I just need some time by myself for a little bit.”

Albeit reluctantly, your mom got up and ushered everyone else out of the church to give you some time alone. The venue was only ten minutes down the road, so your mom told you to just text her when you wanted to be picked up. You thanked her again for all of her help and support before she left with everyone else.

You slowly got to your feet after you thought that everyone else was gone. You let out a breath to calm yourself down and simply worked through some thoughts. Eventually turning for the aisle, you paused when you spotted a familiar figure walking through the church doorway.

Jake Seresin. Or Jacob Michael Seresin III, if you were going by his birth name. Or Hangman, as he supposedly went by these days. Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

The boy that you fell in love with when you were fifteen. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first everything, really. The man that, had he stayed in Texas and taken over his family’s business like he was expected to do, you probably would have already married.

But life wasn’t a fairytale. And certainly not your life.

Jake slowly walked further into the church, pulling off his dress white cap as he stepped forward. He tucked it under his arm and offered you a small smile as he stopped in front of you. His hair was perfectly gelled and styled and his dress whites were absolutely pristine. And that genuine smile, the one that he seemed to use less and less as he aged, was just like you remembered.

He looked like he stepped straight out of a dream. Out of your dream.

“I’m not too late, am I?” he asked, looking around the otherwise empty church.

“No,” you scoffed, shaking your head. You glanced up at the rafters before turning back to him. “I got left at the altar.”

Instantly, the kind, genuine smile dropped from Jake’s face. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. He frowned and opened his mouth before pausing, most likely trying to not just blurt out the first words that came to mind in a church. But his entire stance looked like he was ready to storm out of the church to drag your fiancé out of whatever hole he was hiding in.

“He didn’t show up?” Jake asked with his voice dangerously low.

“No, he sent me a text,” you explained quietly. Letting out a laugh that was meant to be humorous, but was really rather pathetic in reality, you looked away from Jake for a moment. “I mean, at least I didn’t marry him. It could be worse.”

“Where is he then?”

“Somewhere, anywhere,” you replied honestly, pursing your lips together. “Frankly, I never want to see him or hear his name ever again, so I could care less.”

“Still, he shouldn’t get away with doing this to you,” Jake stated seriously.

It had a level of force behind it that you knew wasn’t directed towards you. More like on your behalf than anything else.

Hell, Jake had always been protective over you and more than willing to fight for you. He wasn’t someone who kept a lot of close friends, but when anyone was within Jake Seresin’s inner circle, he would fight for them with everything that he had. And you knew that the state of your relationship didn’t impact that.

“He’s not worth the trouble,” you stated, waving your hand to the side. “And besides, I’d really just like to move on from all of this. If I can.”

“Of course, you can,” Jake spoke softly, reaching out to take your hand. “He’s just a . . . I can’t say the word that I want to say because we’re standing in a church.” You laughed and shook your head at Jake. “But either way, it’s his loss.”

“Thanks Jake.”

“I’m serious. I mean, any guy who looks at you, especially when you’re in that dress . . .” Jake trailed off, letting his eyes rake over your form, “. . . and doesn’t hope to be the guy standing there, waiting for you at the altar . . . he’s not worth your time.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, just like it used to whenever he would wave to you in the hallway between classes when you two were teenagers. And staring into Jake’s bright green eyes, you knew that he meant every word that he spoke. Rocking your joined hands back and forth, you tried to settle the wobble in your lips.

“I didn’t want it to be him,” you stated honestly, causing Jake to noticeably pick his head up. “He . . . I gave into the pressure that I should be married and moving into that stage of my life by now and . . . I should have never agreed to marry him in the first place.”

Jake nodded slowly and turned to look at the ground. A moment passed where he seemed to be trying to compose himself before he slowly picked his head up again.

“Who did you want it to be?” Jake asked softly, so softly that you didn’t hear it the first time.

“What?”

“Who did you want it to be?” he repeated, picking his head up and staring deeply into your eyes. “Waiting for you at the altar, I mean.”

Your breathing subtly picked up and your lips parted a bit at Jake’s question. And the intensity of his stare that made your entire body feel like it was on fire. Slowly and tentatively reaching out, you gently cupped Jake’s cheek with your hand and rubbed your thumb across his soft skin.

“My answer hasn’t changed,” you stated quietly as emotion started to clog your throat. “It never has.”

The two of you naturally leaned towards each other. Your bodies seemed to naturally fit together as you pressed up together. The two of you slowly leaned in until your foreheads rested together. And when he was standing this close, you could pick out all of the different colors in his eyes, which were staring down at your lips.

Gently cupping the back of your neck, Jake pulled you in for a soft kiss. Your lips moved together like they had never been parted in the first place. Not by school or deployments or life in general. For much of your adult lives, the issue was never your feelings for each other but everything else getting in the way. But right there, in that small little church in rural Texas, life wasn’t in the way.

Nothing and no one were in the way. Not anymore.

Jake dropped his hat and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and cupped his cheek once again, guiding your lips together. It probably would have gotten you disapproving looks if anyone else was around, but for that perfect little moment, it was just the two of you.

Pulling away a few moments later, you rested your foreheads against each other’s and smiled to yourselves. Breathing a bit heavily, you trailed your fingers down Jake’s cheeks as he brushed his nose against your own.

“When do you have to leave?” you asked quietly.

“Tomorrow morning,” Jake sighed, clearly sounding disappointed. “I could barely get any time off. I actually owe Coyote a laundry list of things because he covered for me.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste any time,” you replied, trying to look on the positive side.

About ten seconds later, you and Jake hurried out of the church hand-in-hand. Jake’s rented truck was the only car in the parking lot and you both quickly made a beeline for it. Jake unlocked and opened the door for you to climb inside. You sat down and Jake hurried to push the rest of your dress inside before shutting the door.

You pulled him in for another excited kiss as he slid into the driver’s seat before Jake started his rented truck to drive the two of you to the hotel. As Jake backed out of the parking lot, you sent your mom a quick text, which was just a simple photo of Jake.

“Do you have the directions to the hotel?” Jake asked, turning back around and heading for the road.

“Yeah and the confirmation, so we can actually check in,” you mused, smiling over at him.

As Jake pulled out onto the road, you got a text back from your mom. You let out an amused noise and shook your head when you read her message.

Don’t forget protection. Or do. I wouldn’t mind a grandbaby if you two agreed on one. Love you!

You sent your mom a quick ‘love you’ text back before turning off your notifications. Jake reached out and grabbed your hand, threading your fingers together. Jake pulled your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

And even though this wasn’t how you expected your wedding day to go, you had to admit that this outcome was actually far better than the one you that had in mind.

Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

[anatay004]

ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ | ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ (+ 18)

ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ’ꜱ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ᴀɴɴᴏᴜɴᴄᴇᴅ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴍ, ɪɴ ʜᴏᴘᴇꜱ ʜɪꜱ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴀꜱ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ, ʜᴇ ʀᴇꜰᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ.

manipulation, obsession, jealousy, dub-con, and smut.

ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙᴜʀɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

YOU WEREN'T AVOIDING HIM.

Or, at least, that's what you liked to tell yourself. You were simply taking a step back from him, allowing yourself to escape from his searing touch, his scarring lips, and poisoned vows. You were stepping out of the picture, allowing him a moment to relish his wife, to engulf in her presence and take her in. In hopes of diminishing yourself from the recesses of his mind — in hopes she could replace you somehow.

It was your wedding present to him.

After all, you were just his lover. You could never be something more — nor did you wish to be, not after everything that he'd put you through. After you'd won the 12th Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow had made sure to haunt you down. He’d made sure to corner you into his command with thinly-veiled threats, to eliminate any obstacles on his way and take you as his and only his. No matter the consequences.

Like an object.

Like a treasure.

He did everything in his power to have you. To tether himself to the fibers of your skin, to burrow beneath your bones, and settle in. He was like a drug to you — deathly yet addictive, and sometimes you even wondered if you were right in the head. To accept his pleasures, his lips, and his body against yours — even though you didn't have much of a choice most of the time.

You hated him.

For taking away the remnants of humanity that was once inside of you. For haunting your mind during the daytime and behind shut eyelids. For making you his in every way possible.

And yet he went through all of that trouble to marry another woman.

At first, it pestered you — to think you weren't worthy of such a title. To think you weren't worthy of being the First Lady of Panem after all the shit that he'd put you through. But then, you thought of it as an opportunity to escape him. Try to reconnect with your old self and run away from him for as long as you could.

And that's what you did.

When the wedding was announced, you packed your stuff and fugitively came back home to your district. You hadn't seen your family for months, Snow had made sure to isolate you from anyone you ever shared some type of affection with. He hated sharing you. So, he forced you to move to the Capitol with him, despite the funny looks and whispers that ricocheted off the walls.

Everyone, somehow, knew you were his.

And yet, nobody dared to speak of it loudly.

Not even your family.

Afraid it might just sentence them to death (wish you knew, would most likely be the case).

One week elapsed eventually. You heard from him through the news, he'd married Julia Pompey in a matter of days before your departure. It comforted you — to think it was finally over until the roses began to arrive one day. You’d asked your mother to throw them away, to which she didn't object to, she was well aware of the thinly-veiled message behind them.

She was aware of the powerful man that haunted you.

It started with a single rose at first, but by the end of the week, they were bouquets of roses sitting outside your door. There was no letter attached to them, he didn't need to write one — you knew the message perfectly well. He was asking for you to come back to him.

It almost made you sick.

But you tried to dismiss it.

You tried to move on with your life. You busied yourself with banal tasks at home. You helped your mother clean and cook your favorite meals. And, although there wasn't much talking between the two of you, you enjoyed her presence all the same. It was nice to have her gentleness, after the games, loneliness seemed to be the only thing that accompanied you everywhere you go — it made you weaker, easier for Snow to break.

And that's what he did.

He broke you apart just to put you back together.

Until your mother could no longer recognize you. But in fleeting moments like this, when you lingered behind her frame and watched her bake your favorite muffins like a child, she was able to see a few glimpses of the daughter that was once taken away from her.

After all, you weren't completely lost yet.

But you knew it wouldn't last.

You were coming back from the bakery one afternoon when you noticed the sudden shift in the atmosphere inside your home. The house was awfully quiet — the loudest kind of silence you'd ever heard before, and your mother was unexpectedly greeting you at the door. A fake smile curved her lips, it was almost concerning, but before you could open your mouth and ask if something was wrong, a peacemaker stumbled into your line of vision.

"Ms. (Y/LN), please follow me."

Your muscles wracked with tension when the peacemaker beckoned you towards the end of the hall and into the office located at the far end of the house. You offered your mother a faint smile on the way, assuring her that everything was going to be okay — but you knew better.

The door was shut behind you with a quiet thud when you stepped inside the room. You knew he was waiting for you inside. The smell of roses immediately settled into your nostrils and you shivered, the aroma forced its way down your throat until you could almost taste it. He was sitting across from you at the desk, leaning back on the chair as he examined your features very quietly.

When you finally looked up to meet his gaze, the sight of his tousled blonde curls caught you completely off guard. He looked exhausted, dark circles marred his skin like he hadn't slept for days. You'd never seen him like this before.

You disliked it.

"President Snow," You greeted after a moment of silence, relishing the way his jaw visibly clenched at the formality of your words. He hated when you called him anything, but Cory.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He spat through his teeth suddenly. If glares could've killed, you've been six underground by then.

You feigned an innocent look on your face. "I haven't done anything at all."

"You left home," He argued, and the mere sound of the words made your skin prickle with goosebumps. The Capital was not your home — he was not your home, but you didn't dare to blurt that out into the open air. "And you left no fucking letter, no indication of when you were coming back — nothing!"

"I assumed your wife wouldn't like having me around," You responded simply, holding back your breath when his expression darkened completely and a humorous smile itched his lips. "Congratulations on the wedding, by the way."

"Is that what this is about?" He scoffed, pushing back on his chair almost immediately. The wood scuffing against the floor made you wince. "Is that why you left? Because you were jealous?"

Anger retaliated in the pit of your stomach. You were not jealous, on the contrary, you were almost glad he'd someone else to fuck with. Because then — maybe, you could be free from him. And the nightmares could finally go away.

But you didn't say anything.

Afraid that you might just say that.

He didn't mind that, instead, he took a few deliberate steps closer to you. Instinctively, you fell back a few steps, until your back was pressing against the wall and there was nowhere to run.

"Do you want to know why I married her?" He questioned as his voice notched down a few decibels. He was standing close — too close, his face was merely inches away from touching yours. You could feel his warm breath pressing against your skin as he spoke. "Because I hate her. Because she means nothing to me."

You stilled for a moment, reeling over his words. For some reason, the logic behind his marriage didn't surprise you as much as it should've. Coriolanus Snow was a tactful man, you knew him like the palm of your hand — he didn't act before having a plan. So, you shrewdly assumed, that marrying Julia Pompey was just one of his ways of securing immunity to threats.

His enemies couldn't hurt him if they killed her — or their future children. Because he didn't love or care enough for her. Not one bit.

"Do you know what I did on my wedding night?" He added, voice sliding evenly into your thoughts. His hand carefully raised to touch your face, to stroke the skin of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "Do you know who I thought of when I dismissed her and locked myself in our room?"

You clenched your jaw as you registered his words, not wanting to listen any further.

His thumb pressed against your bottom lip. "When I took my pants off and jerked all night off until I was numbed?"

You turned your head away, but he gripped his hand around your cheeks to keep you in place. You threw him a look, but he dismissed it with little care. He wanted you to look into his eyes.

"Guess who I thought of?"

You didn’t answer.

“Guess who kept me going?” His hands dropped to tighten around your throat.

“Stop it, Coriolanus,” You hissed, pressing the palm of your hand against his chest harshly.

He didn’t falter.

“You know she could never replace you,” He continued, as if was the most obvious thing in the world. “She could walk around naked and I would much rather turn to look at the filthy floor. She means absolutely nothing to me.” He repeated, and — for some reason, you were certain he was telling the truth.

And it suddenly dawned on you that — no matter how far you ran, no matter how fast you did; you would never actually escape him. And the daunting realization peppered visible goosebumps over your skin again.

“I know.” You limited yourself to answer.

“So, why the fuck are you avoiding me?” He snapped, eyes suddenly turning obscure as he waited for an answer. “Are you punishing me?”

I wish I was, you thought to yourself.

“Of course not.”

“Then why the fuck are you running away from you?” He hissed, examining your face carefully before an amused smile itched his lips “As if you could ever escape me, sweetheart.”

You glared at him.

He didn’t deign to give you a response.

Instead, he pressed his lips against yours — obliterating any sudden rationality or lucid thought that you could’ve had in mind at that moment. You found yourself shutting your eyes when his tongue swept past your lips and delved hot inside your mouth. He was desperate and frantic — he’d missed you. You didn’t fight it, because, at the end of the day, you knew it would be pointless. You knew you would be right back in the same game — run and being chased.

And he would catch you every damn time.

Despite how much you hated it.

“Come back home.” He commanded, his voice dangerously low as he leaned back to catch his breath. His hands were sliding under your shirt, tracing arbitrary patterns over your stomach before his hands raised to make their way up to your warm chest.

“Cory — ” You protested when he buried his head in your neck and began to kiss your skin like there was no tomorrow. You could hear voices behind the door, and concerned whispers from your family as they tried to piece together what was happening behind those closed doors.

Would he kill you?

Would he kill them?

You almost wanted to laugh at that. You wish he could just kill you right there and then.

If they only knew.

“We can’t — ” You tried again, but his lips met yours with such fervor that you couldn’t even finish your sentence. Within a blink of an eye, he slid an arm behind your waist and carried you up to throw you over the desk behind him. You tried to protest again, but it only seemed to incite him even more as he racked up your skirt.

“Say you’ll come back home.” He commanded, his voice rasping as he pulled his pants down. You didn’t answer, instead, you parted your legs and took him in like you’d always done. He slid in and out with slow thrusts and you almost hated the gentleness of his moves. A moan silently slipped out your mouth when he touched every right spot — until your toes were curling, and an orgasm was washing over you.

You hated how well he knew you.

You hated that the only thing you could do was hold back the tears.

When he finished, he collapsed on top of you. Face buried inside your neck as he waited for the response he knew you would never deny him.

“I’ll come back home.”

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Three. Four. Five. || Toxic!Husband!Price

For @glitterypirateduck's “O, Captain!” writing challenge! I used prompts:

30. "I hate you but if anything happened to you I'd burn the world" vibe.;

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years;

78. Give us a "That's my Wife!" moment.

Rating: E Words: 3.3K cw: toxic couple, VERY toxic, insults, death wishes, smut fade to black, pregnancy. Tags: f!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, miilitary/court martial inaccuracies, very bad family dynamics?, dark humour??. Summary: John and Reader are in the worst fucking marriage ever. A collection of moments, dialogues and scenes from their terrible relationship. a/n: They are SO fucking toxic and dumb, I cannot- This is also very different from the stuff I usually write. This is ALSO not particularly angsty, more so dark humour.

There was a time when you loved John Price.

With all your heart, all your soul (and all your pussy).

That time was when you were young.

Ages 14 to 21, you loved him. He was your first kiss, your first time. High school sweethearts, you supported him through the academy, he supported you when you went to university. 

You stayed together through his first and second deployments. It was like an old-timey WW2 romance. 

So many letters exchanged back and forth. All lovey-dovey, with faint pen ink and smudged blotches on the pages as you made plans for the future.

Phone calls with spotty service and loads of static, only five minutes per soldier, 5 minutes which he’d spend only ever spend talking to you, asking you to relay any other messages to his mum, dad, siblings so he wouldn’t have to hang up with you. 

Polaroids clipped on the inside of envelopes which he would then slip into the breast pocket of his shirt, keeping you over his heart… one he’d often pull out and look at during transpo, thumbs tracing your eternal smile.

Polaroids of yours, a bit more risqué, which he would keep tucked into a journal under his pillow, for his eyes only.

John would walk around overseas with a smile on his lips after getting a letter or a call from you, brag to his teammates about his “bird back home”, never going out to bars to find one night stands like they did…

But sometime after his second deployment and joining the SAS, the puppy love that had lasted for years started to dwindle. 

Slowly but surely, you found that you were both growing distant.

You assumed you were both growing a bit ‘comfortable’, perhaps complacent… like all relationships tend to get after a while. 

By that time, John and you had already moved in together and you were no longer consistently alone for months at a time waiting for him to return from deployment. You blamed it on that. Plus, you’d been together for years by then!

But it felt different. There was distance, emotional and physical. Whenever he cuddled up to you, you felt cold and so did he. The kisses to your forehead were meaningless, the dinners at home eerily silent.

And between the distance and the inability to make proper plans, proper dates, celebrate milestones together, forgotten anniversaries, overlooked birthdays… It turned into arguments. 

And one argument turned to three, to five, to seven… hundred.

You found yourself growing bitter, angry, hateful.

It wasn’t a sudden shift or anything.

Not like you woke up one day and the one thought in your head was “I hate him”...

But you remember hating him longer than you ever loved him.

You tried breaking up. And failed. 

Some… bastardised feeling of guilt came to the forefront of both your minds at the idea of throwing away 5 6 7 8 9 10 years together, and giving up on your first love… and maybe even fear of having to start anew with someone else.

So, you simply continued going through the motions. You got engaged, big shiny rock on your finger, all big smile, but no tears came when he proposed. Your families were ecstatic, not quite able to see through the thinly veiled deceit.

For the wedding, you pulled out all the stops, stressed yourself out preparing the ceremony and reception with the women in your family (and his! His mother and sister were so happy that John was getting married!), going wedding dress shopping…

You had a beautiful ceremony, John wearing his full dress suit, army green, with the beige SAS beret. You were both 27, and together for 13 years.

Then, came the honeymoon, which was cut short. Not that it was a true honeymoon. Just three days in a coastal town in Northern France, having to be within a day's drive of Hereford lest he get called out for a sudden mission, which he was.

Not that you expected any different from him. So the distance continued growing, as did the arguments.

You hated him. He hated you.

Then came the predictable “So, when can we expect some grandkids?”. You put it off for a couple more years, blaming it on your high-priority careers, the law and the military, so similar and so different; his lack of time at home and how regrettable it’d be for you to be alone through the pregnancy; the want to be ‘more present’ for the future kids, needing to wait for things to settle down a bit more…

You’d been together for so long at that point, 15 years under your belt, starkly aware that neither of you is going anywhere. The world keeps spinning and your relationship hasn't ended. Fuck it, might as well go for it.

And now here you are.

It’s been eighteen years since you met. Aged 32, you no longer have arguments, you have throwdowns. You pull out every weapon in your arsenal. Neither of you plays nice.

Insults are traded often. Death wishes even more so. And, more often than not, they’re delivered with such a deadpan nonchalance that you’re sure people would think you both psychopaths.

“Going on a mission. ‘ll be back in a few days.”

“‘Kay, hope you die.”

“So do I.”

-

“Just had a fender bender with a stupid bloke. The car’s at the shop. Taking an uber to the base to get your car.”

“Okay. Shame you didn’t die a fiery death.”

“Don’t remind me, already cried about it.”

-

"I'm getting discharged."

"Why?"

"Shot."

"And it couldn't have killed you?"

-

“Can you get out of the damn toilet? I’m bleeding.”

“Period, accident, or just part of your satanic rituals?”

“Period.”

“Tough luck. Hope you bleed out.”

It never gets physical, never violent. John would rather die than lay a hand on you and you’d never DARE lay one on him. It’s just a lot of yelling, a lot of insulting, a lot of throwing things around, and, especially, a lot of revenge plans being executed to drive each other crazy.

Like recently. You found out John had gotten a grey-haired wig about the same length and texture as your hair, and has been snipping off a few hairs at a time, planting them around the house to blame you for leaving your hair everywhere, while simultaneously making you feel like you’re going grey. So, you put grey hair box dye in his shampoo and beard oil, to make him think he’s going grey.

Or three months ago, when you replaced all your lightbulbs with dimmer ones and lowered the brightness on all electronics, to make him think his eyesight was starting to go bad. You drove him so mad that he had voluntarily signed up for sniper assessments because he was worried he’d become a liability for the team.

Or eight months ago, when John had to return home in the middle of the day wearing a ruined uniform and just about ready to blow smoke out of his ears, having ripped holes in the uniform midway through a meeting all because 2 or so weeks prior you had painstakingly undone part of the stitching on it after an argument, and that had resulted in him baring his hairy thighs and armpits to a boardroom full of officers.

It’s bad. Very bad. You’ve had your windows and doors insulated to make sure the neighbors don’t hear your screaming matches and call the cops on the “domestic violence” happening next door. 

You probably shouldn’t have kids with this man. And yet-

He drives you insane.

And you’ve TRIED to fix it! You did. Marriage counseling, rage rooms, axe-throwing, paintball matches, yoga, meditation.… Nothing worked! In fact, it only infuriated you more because:

“You’ve got a tactical advantage, you need to play with a handicap!”

“Tough luck, sweetheart. Get good or get shot!”.

-

“You can throw harder than that.”

“Oh, I’ll show ya throwing hard, you gobshite!”

“Okay, when are you planning to start?”

-

“My back hurts-”

“Because you’re getting old.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m just telling you the truth. Face it, John, if the downward dog hurts your back, then you’re old.”

-

“Can you breathe any louder?”

“Yes, I can. Wanna see?”

“Just shut up. I can’t hear myself think.”

“Not much to hear either way, pretty hollow in there.”

“I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, sweetness.”

There are only three occasions when you’re not actively at each other’s throats. Other, then, of course, when John’s working, especially when he’s overseas. You can’t fight if he’s both a) not home and b) unreachable via calls or texts or e-mails.

When you need a favor from the other, something you can’t quite do, or that falls in the other’s ‘jurisdiction’ in house chores.

“The washing machine’s leaking.”

“Turn off the water main, I’ll go check in a sec.”

“Mkay.”

-

“Here. Popped a button.”

“I don’t have any more army green thread.”

“Then use brown or black or whatever.”

-

“Where are your car keys?”

“What for?”

“Going to get it washed and detailed.”

“My purse.”

-

“You’re not gonna wear that, are you?”

“Why?”

“Besides the fact that it’s wrinkly? That’s a ‘house’ shirt, not a ‘going out’ shirt. Wear this one instead.”

2. When you’re both complaining or dealing with an outside force, a 3rd party, together.

"Excuse me, hi, I'm sending this back it's not cooked the way I asked."

"Ma'am that's exactly what you-"

"Are you calling my wife a liar?"

-

“Oh, fuck no. Why the fuck is he winning the Great British Bake Off?"

"Hm? Oh- oh! Yeah, why the fuck is he winning?"

“Bloody hell, he rolled his pastry too thin and had watery pie filling-”

“Wankers. This is not fair.”

-

“John. John!”

“What?”

“Look-”

“Blood hell, he’s back early-”

“Yeah and her boytoy’s car still there. They’re definitely still going at it.”

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

-

“Excuse me! Hey, excuse me! Pick up after your bloody dog! NO, don’t you start with me, you keep leaving your dog’s shite right by our garden, don’t you see the sign my husband’s posted up?! Pick it up or I’ll do it and then drop it in your garden.”

3. During sex.

Marching into the bedroom after breakfast, you find John combing through his hair in the bathroom mirror. The room is steamy from the hot shower he just took. 

“Take your trousers off. I’m ovulating.” You warn him as you wave your phone in the air, showing off the period tracking app.

“I literally just showered.” John replies as you’re already shrugging off your robe and pajamas.

“Well, believe or not, I don’t control my ovaries, John.” You reply. “Now take your trousers off.”

“Already on it.” He replies as he already starts taking off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving them on a pile on the floor, before his boxer briefs follow suit.

His hand palms his cock as you’re getting comfortable on the bed, tugging on it lightly as he watches your fingers do the same between your legs. 

“Can we try to enjoy it this time?” He asks you in earnest.

“Sure.” You reply simply. “Been a while since we’ve had proper sex and not…”

“Not a breeding session?” He quips as he kneels on the bed between your parted thighs. His hand replaces yours and he starts rubbing your clit for you.

“Shut it…” You quip, while your own hand wraps around his cock, stroking it slowly. John lowers himself onto you and his lips slowly brush against yours before he kisses you.

No, as it turns out… There are actually four occasions when you’re not actively at each other’s throats:

4. The Kid

In a day like any other, you’re lying in bed, reading a book. It’s a lazy Sunday morning, your big, round belly feeling particularly heavy. You’ve stolen every other pillow in the house to try and find some comfort, which you fail remarkably at.

“I think I’m going grey.” John states to no one in particular.

He’s in the en-suite bathroom, applying beard oil across his mutton chops like he tends to do, about three times a week.

“You are.” You remark in a bored, dismissive tone as you read a book in bed.

“That’s not funny. I’m not that old.”

“You’re getting up there.”

“Look who’s talking, we’re the same age.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jonathan?”

“It means you’re there yourself, darling.”

Raising your eyes from the book in your hands, the bottom of which rests atop your pregnant belly, you cock a brow at your ‘beloved’ husband.

“And this is coming from Santa Claus?” You retort swiftly.

John peeks his head out of the bathroom door to look at you. “You think you’ve got a leg to stand on, you crone?”

Grunting under your breath, you glare at him, and he glares at you, complete silence in the bedroom. 

There’s something in that face of his, the look in his eyes, those STUPID fucking mutton chops that you’ve told him to shave and he refuses…

Grabbing your book and rolling it into a cylinder, you hurl it at him, putting as much force behind your arm as you possibly can. It misses the mark, but only because he had the presence of mind to duck. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ knobhead!” You insult him, tongue dripping with bitterness.

“Wel, not like I can be anything else, really, when I’m married to such a raging cunt.” He retorts.

“OH FUCK YOU!” You retort.

“ALREADY AM MORE THAN FUCKED, SPENDING THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU.”

“OH, PLEASE, YOU’RE MORE MARRIED TO YOUR BLOODY GUN THAN YOU ARE TO ME!”

“YEAH CAUSE AT LEAST MY GUN DOESN’T DRIVE ME FUCKING MENTAL!”

“OH PISS OFF!” You shout, your face twisting with a scowl.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be stressing yourself out like this. It’s not good for your blood pressure. Or for John Junior.”

“First of all, it’s not gonna be a boy. Secondly, even if it is a boy, we’re not naming him after you. And thirdly, how about you die, then I won’t get stressed.”

“And why would I do that, when I can stay right here, perfectly alive and healthy, and watch you give birth to John Junior, and have the pleasure of rubbing a ‘I told you so’ right in your face?”

“Oh fuck you. It’s not going to happen.” You sulk and cross your arms over your chest, leaning back against your mountain of pillows.

“Someone doesn’t like the idea of having a son that takes after me, hm??” John teases as he comes up to the bed, a brow cocked.

You trail him with your eyes as he sits next to you on the bed. “Absolutely not. I wanna have a child I actually am able to love, and not one that I have to lie to.”

“A mother’s love knows no bounds, huh? What a load of crap.” John quips.

“Oh, that’s 100% true. I love this baby to bits already, but if it takes after you… I’ll probably die.”

“Good.” John remarks, causing you to roll your eyss. “Much better than if our child takes after you. Spawn of Satan, he would be.” John’s hand slides up your leg and slowly cups your swollen stomach.

“I should probably address the fact you just called our child ‘Satan’s spawn’, but I’m more concerned over the fact you keep calling the baby a ‘son’.” You murmur as you uncross your arms and watch him caress your skin.

“I feel like it’s a boy, I don’t know what to tell you.” He replies as his calloused fingers drag over the stretch marks and linea nigra on your stomach.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“What about it?”

“I’ve seen enough men online getting pissy over havin’ a daughter.” You quip and cock a brow up, looking him in the eyes.

John’s eyes lock onto yours. “Not me.” Then they return to the belly as he continues rubbing you. “Would love a little girl too.”

“Hm.” You remark and slowly, your hand rubs over the belly on the opposite side, where John’s hand isn’t. “We’ve gotta promise not to yell or argue in front of the baby.”

“Kind of hard to do that when I’m married to the Devil.” John quips, causing you to look up at him, eyes narrowed.

“You’ve gotta promise. We’ve gotta promise.” You murmur as you look at him.

For a moment, his usually grumpy face softens and he nods. “I promise.”

Nodding as well, you echo the sentiment. “I promise.”

No, wait, five:

5. When you have his back.

“General, that is not what I asked you. I would ask that you stop beating around the bush, feeding me, the jury, and the people watching at home, fabricated information and embellished words in a sorry attempt to save your credibility. Stick to the questions being asked and stop wasting our times.” You warned the man as you paced the space in front of the stand.

“Me and everyone else in this room are looking for nothing but the truth, or must I remind you that you are under oath and also live on television?” You ask outloud as you turn to look at him.

“No, counselor.” The General, a heavy-set, older, mustachioed man replies, through gritted teeth, his face showing a polite expression while the man himself was seething on the inside.

“Very well, then, I’ll repeat the question. Were you or were you not aware of the aforementioned, unsactioned operations being conducted in the Al-Mazarah and Urzikstan border, involving CIA and MI6 operatives?” You asked, eyes glaring into the man’s eyes as you leaned into the stand near him.

“Well, as with most operations...”

“A yes or no is enough, General.” You told him sternly.

“Yes.” The man grits out.

“And did you, or did you not, give permission for these CIA and MI6 operatives, working under the guise of NATO, and I quote, from the transcript: “Authority to use any means necessary” on the enemy forces?” You confronted him.

“Well-”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“And did you do that while being aware that the teams involved would interpret such command as permission to execute an operation in which they’d use ‘extreme physical persuasion’ or, in other words, torture to achieve their goals?”

“I-”

“Did you or did you not, General?”

“Yes, but-”

“And did you, or did you not, not only demand the censoring of the clear and transparent reports received in the aftermath of that operation but also sign off on them yourself, to circumvent the proper channels of evaluation, which would force an internal audit to be conducted?”

“Yes-”

“So, in short, you just confirmed that you authorized your troops to, essentially, wipe their asses with the Geneva convention and comit war crimes on the POWs under their care?”

“Counselor-” One of the judges called out.

“Withdrawn. No further questions, Mr. Chairman.” You told the Chairman and the jury panel that sat above you, as you swiftly turned around and marched up to your table, high heels clacking on the polished floors of the court room.

Your eyes locked onto John’s as he sat in the back of the room, wearing his full regalia, his eyes locked onto yours with a strange shine to them… Almost like he’s proud of you.

As soon as you sit on the chair and the Chairman once again takes over, addressing the room, the General, calling other witnesses, your phone’s screen lights up on the chair next to you.

Picking it up quietly, you spot a message of John’s:

John: that’s my girl. knew you could do it. you: you owe me big time. John: i do. saved my arse there. you: of course. it’s what I’m here for.  John: almost making it sound like you love me. you: no but I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. you: no way in hell you’re leaving me alone with 3 children. John: i see. selfish woman. you: shut up.  you: and try not torturing POWs next time. John: yes, ma’am.

Five occasions seem to be enough to keep a 23-year marriage afloat.

a/n: Big thanks to my beloved @crashtestbunny for helping draft/plot all these interactiions and just the general toxicity! And also @mothymunson your beloved Toxic!Price is here!

[ O, Captain! Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 17 "Equinox"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: Wow, we're really, really getting there now and I feel so conflicted about it 😭 I don't want it to end, but I'll also be so happy to wrap up their story ❤️ Thank you for every motivating comment along the way, you're the reason why I kept going ❤️

Reposted from my Ao3💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 140

Lurid clouds are chased across the roiling skies, stripped apart by the fierce winds of the high troposphere. Through the cracks in the clouds, the guests and bridal pair witness a macabre glory in the firmament.

God's inverted eye is glaring down on the altar and everyone in its frayed shadow becomes dancing motes at the center of the universe.

Today marks not only the spring equinox and the wedding of Feyd-Rautha and his alien bride, it is also a solar eclipse and Giedi Prime's white moon creeps in front of the black sun like a wandering pupil.

Past the smog-polluted urban canyons of Barony and even past the endless trenches of mines and factories of Gyed are the tasu aurinkosesti — the planes of the ever-sun, closer to the equatorial belt than any Harkonnen-built settlement. While not safe enough for permanent residents, the majestic landscape is just safe enough for festivities overlooked by the full glory of Giedi Prime's volcanos who crane their tapered maws proudly to the black sun.

Here is where nature breaks through the cracks of bleached Earth, dry, short grasses and creeping inkvines. The active volcanoes are gentler masters than the human settlers.

Today, delicate, black garlands flutter from the temporarily erected poles, seats and slender archways which mark two aisles down a semi-circle of hand-picked guests, one thousand of them — Harkonnens only for this special festivity. Stirred by the hot winds from the south, the garlands look not unlike human entrails strung up for a carnival. 

The aisles meet at a slightly elevated pedestal, on it a massive, roughly cuboid slab of obsidian. An ancient altar dented in the middle by the thousands of brides who had laid on it, or been forced to, and spilled their maiden blood onto the stone with the sun as their witness.

Feyd-Rautha's bride won't have to spread her legs on the ancient ceremonial site today. She is an off-worldler and her delicate flesh would be burnt to crisps and become a cornucopia of tumors if she spent but a minute unprotected in the open air. The radiation is strongest near the equator and only her wedding gown keeps her sheltered from it.

Panels of scintillating material shift heavily around her legs, hard but bendy, each layer painted with lead to isolate her flesh from the lurid sun's gamma rays. The gown tapers in at the waist and breasts and crawls over her shoulders, arms, and hands, covering her wholly. Her head is crowned by a veil of the same iridescent panels, protecting hair and face, only the face-panel is see-through. From afar, her shape is entirely otherworldly.

She will be an alien to the populace first, in her looks and in her ways, and then share her humanity. But first, she wants to enjoy the company of her husband and not think about anything for a while, no world-changing battles, no masses in arms.

Her gaze trails along the twisted, black archway that connects both sides of the elevated pedestal, Crowns of Thorns around it twining, Giedi Prime's only native flower. Skywards, God's inverted eye stands directly over the altar, filling her heart with horror and beauty, a feeling she can appreciate because it's not malicious, unlike the many human workings she has encountered in this universe.

Her eyes' appreciative journey ends at the man who will soon be her husband. On the other side of the pedestal, three meters away, stands Feyd-Rautha, the counter-image of her. His bare skin is as white as the chalky terrain and the glaring skies, only his loins are covered by a cloth that is wrapped in ceremonial manner, leaving the sides of his hips and strong thighs exposed. His hands are bare, ringless, and his hip weaponless.

On his exposed belly and chest, she will later be painting the markings of fertility and eternity, a winding symbol like a serpent devouring its own tail.

Feyd-Rautha bares his ink-black teeth, smiling when he sees his woman doing the same beneath her veil, white teeth between her painted lips. While she looks a hundredfold more pompous in her scintillating gown, to her, Feyd-Rautha is the most glorious sight in the world; the way he presents himself to the universe freely now and with no fear.

The drums begin to play and deep-throated chanting soars from the crowd who have risen from their seats, each of them clutching a hand over their hearts. They too have come in ceremonial robes, heavy fabric that reaches down to the knees and a strap of fabric that stretches diagonally across the chest and over one shoulder, leaving one side of the chest exposed — men and women alike.

Feyd and his bride turn to the crowd whose feet raise and stomp down in unison and whose hands mimic the drum beats over their hearts. The ceremonial chanting claps across the planes like thunder from a thousand throats. In the front row are Mikhail Kyelug and Lilia Bauer, the groomsman and bridesmaid by old Earth tradition.

On Mikhail's other side is a man who Feyd-Rautha would have stabbed on sight a week ago. Glossu Rabban looks up to his little brother by the altar, and the Count of Lankiveil is smiling.

Six days prior

"Can't believe you're tired already — hick! — na-Baron!"

It's Baron by now, but Feyd doesn't bother correcting Mikhail as they slouch through the array of corridors which will eventually lead them to the concubines' wing where Feyd has moved in with his wife-to-be, his old quarters burned down together with the Baron's. That is unless they get lost, liquor-blurred eyes blinking into predawn darkness.

"Not tired," Feyd-Rautha protests, shoving his comrade into the nearest wall. The guard bounces right back, sending Feyd staggering.

"So, lovesick?"

"I can go a night without my woman."

"Yeeaah, but you don't wanna." 

There is not a single club in Barony that doesn't have poles for strippers and slaves of every shape, size and age at their disposal, yet neither of the two men have indulged in anything other than alcohol and the occasional pill or pipe tonighr. The physiology of anything living on Giedi Prime is much harder to poison. Common alcohol is barely a challenge for Harkonnen livers, hence why booze from Giedi Prime's distilleries can kill an off-wordler after just a glass.

"It's Bull's Night, so 'course I want my prize at the end of the night."

"Point is you should take some other prize, ya know? Spread out your seed, eh?" Mikhail gesticulates with one hand, drawing complicated circles in the air.

"Did'you spread out your seed before you married Lilia?"

"Nah," Mikhail laughs and Feyd scoffs, grinning to himself. The night has been long and his cheeks are hurting.

The sudden echo of a shoe around the next corner snaps both men out of their drunken banter. These aren't guards' boots. Feyd-Rautha's blade hisses from its sheath and he barges forward, coming to an abrupt halt behind the corner. It is Mikhail who speaks first.

"Beast — hick! — Rabba-ban!"

The stocky frame of Feyd's older brother fills out the hallway. He wears dark brown, a cushioned pad on one shoulder and a sword belt around his hip. A comfortable uniform as it is worn on Lankiveil. He's gotten fatter, Feyd notices through the shock of finding his brother, whom he hasn't seen in over five years, in his palace, let alone while he is drunk and blabbering. 

The sight has burned him sober.

Under his arm, the intruder carries a gift box, beige with a crinkled but shiny, golden ribbon tied around it in sloppy loops.

"What are you doing here?" Rabban rumbles, mouth standing open in bewilderment. 

"It's early morning. What are you doing here?" Feyd snaps back sharply, muscled shoulder angled towards his brother who is still several feet away.

"I was on my way to your room."

"My room isn't that way anymore."

Rabban can't find it in him to close his mouth, but he does plod into Feyd-Rautha's personal space, uncaring of the way his younger brother twitches and how his long limbs tense themselves to lunge. Despite his drunkenness, Mikhail's fist is screwed tight around the handle of his half-unsheathed blade and the smaller man is poised like a guard dog behind his Baron and friend.

After a moment, Feyd exhales a slow lungful of air. "Go now," he orders and gives the tense guard a firm slap on the shoulder and a little squeeze. 

"Are ya sure, my Lord?" Mikhail hesitates until Feyd-Rautha squeezes his shoulder again.

"Go and mount your woman. She must have been waiting for you all night. And tell mine not to come here!"

Mikhail sheathes his blade with a noisy hiss and trails around Rabban in a curious half circle before wandering off into the hallway, a sway to his footsteps as he keeps muttering that he needs to tell Lilia about Beast - hick - Rabban.

Looking past Feyd's raised, wicked blade, Glossu's dark brown eyes find his brother's icy blue ones and Feyd is enraged when Rabban's cheeks fill up with laughter out of all things. 

"How did you get in here? You're not invited." Feyd rumbles, tilting the blade’s tip towards Rabban’s neck. “You should kiss your Baron's feet and beg him for forgiveness for trespassing.”

Still, the older brother disregards his sibling’s threat and merely tightens his grip on the curious box. He doesn’t even bother to draw his sword. Feyd is seething.

"I'm still a Harkonnen by blood. I don't need to be invited to attend my little brother's wedding."

Feyd-Rautha snarls at that. Being a few inches taller and considering himself considerably smarter than Glossu in every regard, he sees himself as anything but the little brother.

"You're not a Harkonnen, you're a Rabban and you're dressed like one too."

"You're a Rabban as much as I am! You would look good in a uniform like mine." 

Feyd's brows knit together in bewilderment. "I look nothing like a Rabban."

"You look just like our mother," Glossu barks and Feyd hisses through bared teeth, pupils shrunken to deadly pinpricks.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to attend my little brother's wedding."

"I'm not your little brother, you dumb boar."

"You'll always be my little brother!"

"And you've taken the title of big brother literally as of late? You look fat. Have you been drinking?"

"A little," his brother admits. Now being way past fifty, Glossu 'Beast' Rabban looks old and bloated and Feyd finds it hard to believe that he could have ever looked up to his older sibling.

"Say what you want in my palace or feel my blade in your neck."

"I've only been truthful to you," Rabban insists. "I came to celebrate and to… talk.  I'm happy for you."

"Are you now?" Feyd tilts his head in cold mockery.

"I hope I get to meet your woman one day. I've heard plenty of rumors, ranging from heartwarming to mind boggling."

Feyd would rather keep his brother a thousand miles away from his wife to be. The last time they had seen each other, they had clashed with blades and teeth. Rabban, spraying spittle, had yelled that he would shatter everything his spoiled prince of a brother calls his own to pieces, and Feyd had made a gashing cut along Rabban's ribs, snarling with honeyed voice that even a pig had higher chances at success.

There was no love lost between the brothers.

"What's in there?" Feyd's gaze darts to the beige box under Glossu's arm and flits back up with resharpened coldness. But no icy glare can hide the fact that he's taken the bait, like a boy who can't resist a candy bar dangled in front of his face.

"It's for you," Glossu beams and offers the box all too freely. Feyd can't remember a time when his brother had ever willingly shared, let alone given.

Opening a mystery present from Rabban might as well be his last foolish mistake, but Feyd too may be a bit drunk, a bit drugged, and his curiosity kindled a bit too much by this irritating encounter.

"Open it," Feyd demands, holding the blade unwavering at Rabban's neck. His brother complies, pulling on the bow so it flutters to the ground, then wrapping one thick hand around the lid to lift it.

Feyd had expected many things, but not that.

From inside, a soft thing meets his incredulous stare and Feyd-Rautha's free hand lifts slowly, sliding into the box to pick up the item with pointy fingers. He holds it at arm's length, as if its soft fur might bite, and rotates it by the flipper. A stitched face with a little snout regards him, black marbles for eyes, handmade. It's a seal, its plush made of brown whale fur. Some spots are lovingly worn and matted by young, playful hands.

"Why don't you just go over there and say that you want it?" A man's droning baritone. "Because I don't want it!" Icy wind whistles around the fur hood of Feyd's coat, along with the scent of pines, roasted almonds and smoked meat. "So you tugged on my sleeve because you don't want it? You're a big boy now, you can go over there. Are you scared?" "Let's go! You're stupid!" Feyd yowls and the faceless man laughs as the little boy fruitlessly pushes against his thick leg to get him to move away from the market stall. Blades clatter when he throws himself against the man's hip. "No, no, no! I hate you!" A pair of muscled arms sweep up his body like he's only a doll and throw him over a broad, fur-clad shoulder. Feyd finds himself thrashing against the coat that covers the man's back with his tiny fists.

“You remember it?” Rabban laughs and Feyd hates the way a web of crow’s feet spreads around his brother's eyes. It makes him look aged.

“No,” he snarls like a dog. 

“But I do." Rabban points at the stuffed seal. "I got it for you.” 

"You?!" The muscles of Feyd's hairless brows tic upwards in perplexity. The man from that wicked memory was not his father then? But he had looked so tall and big and grown-up. The idea that his bull-headed brother had been kind to him once and did something as mundane as take him to the market and buy him a toy is one that Feyd viciously rejects. It stands out jarringly against the brutal colors that paint his concept of family.

“You acted like you didn’t want to have it. Thought I wouldn't see the way you looked at it, big eyes and all. You thought it was embarrassing to have a— a plushy thing.” Rabban’s voice falters, like there is more hidden there. Old anguish that hurts so freshly when he sees his grown-up baby brother with an old toy in hand. Baron now. “You really don’t remember?”

“I remember that you threw me over your shoulder like a big brute. So, you’ve always been a boar, even then.” Feyd’s eyes glint like his blade as the pale dawn that creeps over the horizon, shedding light through the arched windows between bulging pillars.

“Yeah, I did that!” Rabban dares to fill the quiet morning air with guffawing laughter once more. "You were so small and light. You were on my knees a lot, brother. Used to sit there and watch me whet my blades. You still whet them like I showed you back then, do you know that?" 

"I was never on your fat knees, brother, and if I was, it must have been by force." 

Feyd's left forearm ricochets into Rabban's chest, pinning him to the wall. The blade pokes into the side of the bulkier man's neck, sharp and glinting like a snake tooth and Feyd’s features are screwed into deadly violence. 

Rabban grunts in a way that Feyd finds downright pathetic when the back of his head hits the solid tiles, barely fighting against his baby brother's assault. His eyes are squeezed into crinkled lines. From up close, one can see the blotchiness of Rabban's puffy face. Feyd sneers.

"You'll die younger than our uncle if you go on like this," he comments on his brother's tumid appearance and scratches the blade tip against his cheek. “You embarrass your Baron.”

Rabban shrugs his shoulders and releases a puff of air from trembling lips. It bewilders him that even though he’s afraid, he wouldn’t mind if his little brother slit his neck right here. At the very least, he would die at the hand of the last person he had ever loved. “You’re no Baron to me, you’re just my baby brother.”

Glossu Rabban prepares himself for metal to sink into his neck in quick, searing pain, like he had seen Feyd do so often, a boy sharpened into violent psychosis by a violent man. But his brother's presence only grows deadly silent until Rabban opens his eyes. Feyd has never liked capable prey who doesn’t fight back. His younger brother’s expression is hard to read, shielded always by a wall of either fire or ice. Does that woman who he is to marry ever see him without? Glossu is almost jealous.

“Do you remember any of your childhood?” Rabban finds his own voice meek and brittle, thoughts drifting to a warm, cozy nursery, a round carpet on the floor, an arm chair and a toy chest on the floor, an ever-blue sky and icy hills covered in lush pines which seem to tickle the ivy firmament. The room is still unchanged in the Lankiveil fortress, a capsule of the past, waiting for the little boy who still lives somewhere in Feyd-Rautha.. "Our home?"

"I don't. Giedi Prime is my home," Feyd bites and his seething lips nearly brush against his brother’s. It is a home now that his uncle is gone.

"It is not!" Rabban suddenly bristles and shoves Feyd-Rautha’s blade aside, cutting his sleeve on it. "You know what's a good home?! Caladan. Or Kaitain. Or Lankiveil."

"You're not even a Harkonnen anymore, brother. You disgust me."

"And neither are you! We're half Harkonnen! I took after our father…" Rabban rubs over his ever-hairless skull and the many old battle scars there. "But you had blonde hair once, did you know that? And there would be snow on it when you came inside from playing."

"I wasn't playing!"

"Yes, you were!" Spit sprays over Feyd's chest, narrowly missing the stuffie which he has come to cradle unwittingly against his chest, and Feyd's eyes flash with offense. "You were a little boy, of course you were playing! You were three when I—" Rabban halts and anguish twists his aged features. He is fifty-five now and suddenly it shows. Suddenly, Feyd can only see his brother as what he is, an old veteran fallen from grace, drinking the rest of his brain away on Lankiveil. Rabban adds with a thick voice: “I always tried to be there.”

“Where?”

“With you! Everyone knew that our mother didn't want you. But I tried to be there.”

The vicious fire in Feyd's stomach dies to frozen ashes and his teeth are screwed into his bottom lip. The extended blade quivers and his fingers dig into soft fur. “What are you talking about?”

Rabban shrugs again and looks down at the stuffed seal like he hopes the magma channels will open up beneath the palace and swallow him whole. “Our parents had you under the premise that you would be given to our uncle as an heir. It was father’s and uncle's idea. A good deal. You don’t deny House Harkonnen when it offers wealth and reputation in exchange for something so…” So little.

So that’s what he had been all his life. A good deal and nothing more. Feyd wants to sink his blade into his own crunching bones.

Rabban’s face snaps back up with sudden vehemence. “Our mother could never look you in the eyes and it hurt me to see it! When you were born, I thought I would hate you. Who wants a sibling when they’re already past twenty?! But I couldn’t hate you. You were so little…”

Feyd can’t speak, his jaws clenched into a painful vise, so Rabban goes on. “You always tried to get her attention, but she never relented. She wouldn't even hold you to her own breasts for milk."

"Shut up."

"That woman you're going to marry, what is she like?" 

“I said shut up!"

Only Emmi Rabban knew the real reason why she couldn’t hold little Feyd-Rautha Rabban. It was not her husband's and her brother in law's idea, even though she let them think it was. It was the Bene Gesserit who needed her little Feyd for their breeding program, who needed him honed and sharpened the Harkonnen way because she, Emmi, had failed to raise Glossu as a respectable son. Too wild, too dumb they said. She hated herself so much for birthing Feyd-Rautha under this pretense, that she couldn't love her little boy, for she knew she couldn't bring herself to give him away if she ever started loving him.

“Sorry.” Glossu's voice quivers and it’s pathetic, so pathetic, Feyd thinks. His own breath does something quite similar.

"So, you're telling me you were the good guy all along? The good big brother?"

"Not all along, no," Rabban draws a hard breath. “You always wanted to be like me. That's why you became like this.” He spits it out like it’s a bad thing. “When I killed our father, I killed our mother and my baby brother too, I just didn't know it yet.” Fat tears roll down Glossu’s cheeks and he doesn’t even care to wipe them away.

Feyd suddenly remembers why he had felt such satisfaction when his mother looked at him with fright when he sunk the blade into her neck at night, when she was tucked into bed, helpless. He had always envied the way their mother looked fearfully at Glossu, because at least she looked at him. 

“I killed our father because he deserved it for the plan he made with our uncle. And mother… She suddenly said that you are her only son. It was worth it for me. But the deal hadn’t died with our father and then someday uncle showed up and I think you… You wanted to punish her. You wanted to be like me, so you killed her, and uncle was so impressed.” Glossu exhales shakily. “I would have killed him too, but… I visited you on Giedi Prime after your first months there, you know? I saw what he did to you. You were covered in bruises and I… did nothing. And you grew mean. And you had every right to. But with no one else left to hate, I started hating you, for many years. It’s all my fault.” 

Glossu Rabban cries into his fist’s and Feyd-Rautha traps his sobs within his throat, which hurts like a blade was stuck in it. But no matter how tightly he seals his throat, it doesn’t keep his eyes from going blurry and the hot, salty wetness from spilling down his cheeks.

Present Day

Rabban smiles encouragingly, fist beating down on his thick chest to the mighty echo of the drums. Feyd tilts his head, smiling too, shoulders squared and chin held high, even as his heart plummets into his stomach.

The rhythm changes, becomes uncharacteristically softer and gentler. Quick, almost like cats' paws chasing over the plains. The ring bearer is released into the aisle, holding one ring in each quivering face-hand. Big, pearlescent eyes seek out the man and woman at the end of the aisle who both hold out their hands encouragingly, but they are so far away and so many strangers sit and gawk all around.

Glugo shivers, cowering. 

Until the two other faces it has grown to love leap up from their seats in the front row and hurry all the way to the back, offering one hand each. Glugo is lucky to have more than enough hand-feet to hold each offered hand in two of its own and strut down the aisle with newfound confidence. The distance shrinks rapidly and it clambers up on top of the pedestal all on its own. Its half-human heart is terribly proud as it holds up the rings as high as it can reach, looking from Feyd to the bride and back. Glugo doesn't like her gown. One hand-foot fingers the splayed, lead-coated plastic panels which are anything but soft. She should have worn a blanket or a fur cloak, it thinks.

"Well done," she praises softly, stroking over the top of Glugo's head with one gloved hand.

"Thank you, my friend" Feyd rasps and the drums fade away entirely when the bride and groom pick up the rings, him holding hers and her holding his.

The wedding bands are blacker than the universe itself, held up against the lurid sky. Forged out of obsidian from Giedi Prime's volcanic mines, they have been chemically reinforced to withstand the eons.

Glugo climbs bravely back down and joins Lilia and Mikhail in a comfortable basket at their feet, loafing and watching attentively.

As Glugo leaves, the master of ceremonies steps onto the raised platform from behind the altar. The tattoos that cover his torso in thick, blocky stripes make him appear almost fully dressed, even though he is clad in only a toga, with black panels of fabric twining loosely around his arms. Nodding towards the Baron and his Lady, the man readies his throat to speak, but a timid servant who comes scurrying from the side beats him to it.

"Eruption imminent, my Lord," the scrawny man murmurs and points to Feyd-Rautha's side where a jagged vent has begun spewing black, billowing smoke into the firmament. A thousand heads turn to the mountain ridge, each towering giant an active volcano. The earth growls and moans beneath their feet.

"Should we evacuate?" The bride's worried voice comes muffled from beneath the layers of scintillating plastic.

"No, we will proceed," Feyd-Rautha decides, turning back to her, leaving the volcanoes at his back in plain sight for her. "Let my bride see the glory and beauty of our world."

She inhales shakily, squaring her shoulders when Feyd grins, blinking in cat-like manner.

"Very well!" The announcer speaks, his recognizable voice as loud as a war horn. When he raises his arms above his head, a fierce breeze picks up the panels fluttering from his pale arms. The wind carries notes of ash. "Let us commence the holy union of our beloved leader, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and his chosen bride! The planet itself celebrates with us!"

Drums begin to boom like thunder, punching a rhythm that pumps red and black blood alike through their veins in a rapid chase. At every fifth beat, the crowd throws their hands up high, chanting. At every tenth beat, the next gust of smoke billows over the crater edge. The man who can make his voice heard across an entire arena has no trouble outdoing the drums.

"The rumors are true, dear people, dear Harkonnens. Our bride is a woman of lost, ancient kingdoms, a relic, the first astronaut! Imagine the ancient secrets she will share with our new Lord, with us!" The announcer punches his fists wildly in the air, black teeth bared in a gashing crescent. "This spring equinox marks the dawn of a new age for our glorious House!"

The planet's crust screams in agreement and gives birth to sparkling rivulets of black, hot lava with an earth-shattering roar. Like ghastly fireworks, they splash against the storm-battered, frosted sky.

The announcer laughs, clutching the bride and groom by the arms. "Foretold by dreams, their union is now written in the flesh!"

Feyd-Rautha curls his palm around her covered cheek and she does the same to him, gloved hand cool against his skin. She is gawking in awe at the terrible spectacle at his back, but a soft tilt of Feyd's head is enough to snare her attention back to him. His uncanny beauty outshines even the brutal convulsions of Giedi Prime.

"Speak after me," the announcer hollers. "I swear by the blood and the flesh that my heart belongs to my Manducor, in life and in death. The honor to devour it after my passing goes to my Manducor and my Manducor alone. The glorious, black sun is my witness."

Manducor means heart eater. Days prior, when Feyd came  home drunk and weepy after his Bull's Night, he had confessed to her that he had always been afraid of dying, because he knew his uncle would eat his heart in a final, cruel violation. But not anymore, he had whispered with such fondness that she now finds it easy to repeat the words and mean them.

Her voice is amplified by a device offered by the announcer and her words roll like a tidal wave across the semi circle of guests. Feyd-Rautha's features twitch in euphoria, eyes gleaming like the lava that rolls in hot rivers down the mountain flank. Like an animal ready to pounce, his voice quivers when he repeats the sacred words.

The drums' chasing rhythm crests and the screams that rise from a thousand mouths are guttural and primal. The volcano hisses above, the earth howls below and Feyd-Rautha claims his bride to the grandest cacophony of man and nature.

Lilia cries and presses Glugo's head to her knee. A beaming Glossu Rabban shakes Mikhail's hand.

The relic's palms meet Feyd's belly when he crosses the distance in one powerful stride, sliding over the twitching hills of his muscles when he parts her veil up to the nose, baring her painted lips to the scalding air.

"My woman, I love you," her husband snarls before his lips find hers in needy violence, taking her breath while her fingers curl around his back and dig into his flesh. 

With one radioactive kiss, their bond is sealed, hearts, flesh and souls bound for all beautiful, horrifying eternity.

The Garden releases its last radiance, not as something failed, but as its full reason for being: to give continually, to its last bit of energetic being. Its giving is its beauty. It is a smile, it is the heart of love. Even the smell of decay, drifting from the deer, dead by the side of the road, says: “This is what I am and no other. I do not pretend to be. Even in death I speak without deceit, even unto my flesh, my very bones.

- Equinox by Richard Wehrman

A/N: See you in the, starts sobbing , last chapter 🥺🥺🥺

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[runnning-outof-time]

Sentimental | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by @midnightswithdearkatytspb

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Summary: It's (Y/N) Shelby's wedding day, and her father has to make sure she has one last thing before he walks her down the aisle. She's never seen him be so sentimental about something before.

Warnings: just a bunch of pre-wedding fluff, mention of a death of a minor character

Word Count: 2227

A/N: it’s been a bit since I’ve written a daughter!reader story….I hope this one makes sense, and I’m sorry if I got a little too sappy on it haha. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Right, love...you're all finished," Polly said to her grand niece as she finished doing up the final button on the younger woman's wedding dress.

"Thanks, aunt Pol," (Y/N) smiled, taking one last look at herself in the mirror before she turned to face the older woman. "Can you believe the day is finally here?" she asked, a giddy smile present on her face.

Though she was an aunt by blood, Polly Gray was more so like a mother in the eyes of (Y/N) Shelby. The woman who held the title of mother in (Y/N)'s life passed away shortly after childbirth due to the complications and conditions she found herself in. The Shelby's took little (Y/N) in, raising her in their tight knit family. Polly stepped up the most to help, feeling thankful for this opportunity after her son and daughter had been taken away months earlier.

Tommy, (Y/N)'s father, was thankful for his aunt taking it upon herself to fill the void that his daughter had, a void that he knew she would feel for the rest of her life. He wouldn't have been able to come out and ask for the help, and so he was grateful that Polly knew he needed it. Hell, he was young himself - only being a few days shy of twenty when his daughter entered the world. But now this child needed him, and he was going to do everything that he could to give her the world.

Even though her father married, and then re-married, (Y/N) stayed close with Polly, thankful that she had her as a constant in her otherwise rapidly changing life. She couldn't imagine any other person helping her get ready for her wedding.

"I can," Polly answered, looking at the young woman before she pulled her into her body for a hug. "You've grown into such a beautiful, young woman, and I already know you'll make the best bride," she whispered into (Y/N)'s ear, her words making (Y/N) hug onto her even tighter.

"You're already the most beautiful bride," another voice that came from the dressing room's door made the two women seperate.

"Aunt Ada!" (Y/N) exclaimed, her eyes lighting up once they fell on the woman in the doorway, "come in quickly, before James sees me!" she waved her aunt in, worried that her soon-to-be husband would be lurking in the hallways.

"Don't worry about that," Ada brushed her off, entering the room and closing the door as she spoke, "I'm pretty sure the cheering that I heard from his dressing room means that he won't be leaving it any time soon...until it's time to walk down the aisle, that is," she added, a grin forming on her face. (Y/N) shook her head, rolling her eyes at her aunt's words. "I have something for you," Ada announced then, lifting up the small box she was holding, "two things, actually,"

"What are they?" (Y/N) asked, eagerness present in her voice as she watched Ada open up the box she'd brought.

"The first is the veil that I promised you..." Ada started off, working on taking the piece of fabric out of the box while she was talking, "I know you mentioned you wanted the floral accents on it as well, so I tried hard to add as many as I could while I was making it," she explained as she handed it over to (Y/N), letting the younger woman unfold it so that she could take all of it in.

"It's absolutely beautiful, aunt Ada! Thank you so much!" she gasped once she was able to look at it in its entirety. (Y/N) knew that she needed to have her aunt make her veil for her from the moment she found out about her crafty side. Seeing it now, she was sure that she'd never put her eyes on a veil as beautiful as this one.

"Shall we put it on?" Polly suggested, making (Y/N) turn to look at her. All that the younger woman was able to respond with was a giddy nod, but it was enough for the older two women to begin working on making sure that it was properly pinned to her head. "It’ll be draped over your face once you're ready to walk down the aisle," Polly added once they'd finished making sure that it was sitting correctly.

"It's beautiful," (Y/N) swooned, turning around to look at herself in the mirror again, admiring the full wedding look.

"I have something else too," Ada spoke again, drawing attention to her as she went about opening the bag that she had with her.

"Ada you didn't have to..." (Y/N) trailed off, overwhelmed by the amount of love she was being shown.

"I brought you the 'something new', so I decided that I'd also bring you the 'something old' too," she started off, producing a pair of older-looking, nude colored heels from her bag, "do you remember these?" she asked the younger woman then, an excited look forming on her face as she waited intently for a response.

(Y/N) just about gasped when she saw the shoes. "No...those can't be..." she trailed off, at a loss for words at the moment.

"They are," Ada confirmed, her grin growing, "the exact shoes that you literally begged me to wear when you were younger."

"I can't believe you still have them!" (Y/N) was still in disbelief.

"I nearly spent a day rooting for them in my closet," Ada remarked with a laugh as the women moved over to the couches so that (Y/N) could try them on. "I knew I had to find them though," she added, waiting anxiously to see her niece try them on.

"Do you think they'll fit?" (Y/N) questioned, slightly hesitant to slip her feet into them.

"Guess there's only one way to find out," Ada answered, nodding at the shoes then.

She was right. (Y/N) looked between the two women before she slipped her feet into the shoes, holding her breath while she did it. She only let it out when she found that they fit practically perfectly on her feet.

"How are they?" Polly questioned.

"Perfect," (Y/N) responded, a wide smile present on her face as she looked at the other women again. "I can't believe you're letting me use these, aunt Ada," she then turned to the brown haired woman sitting next to her.

"I couldn't think of anyone better to have them," Ada smiled back, wrapping her arms around (Y/N) in a tight hug. "Don't mess up the make up!" she exclaimed once they pulled away, quickly reaching for some tissue so that she could dry (Y/N)'s eyes.

"This seems to be the perfect time to give you this as well..." Polly began, coming over to where (Y/N) was standing with something in her hands.

"Oh no not you now too, Pol!" (Y/N) blubbered, completely overwhelmed with emotion at the moment.

Polly didn't listen to her and instead opened her hand to reveal a bracelet that had blue gemstones encased between the gold band.

"Something blue?" (Y/N) questioned, looking from the bracelet back to her great aunt, her eyes already watering again. Polly only nodded, a smile present on her face as she came closer to (Y/N). The younger woman knew what to do, holding out her wrist so that her aunt could clasp the bracelet onto it. "It's absolutely beautiful, Polly," she whispered, too overcome by emotion to fully trust her voice at the moment. "Thank you, both, so, so much," she added, looking at both Polly and Ada, who each sent smiles back.

"Now you're ready to be married," Ada commented, glancing over at the clock then, "and it's just about time for the ceremony to start."

"It is time," another voice broke into the conversation, making the three women look over at the doorway.

"How long have you been here, Thomas?" Polly questioned, eyeing her nephew as she wondered when he managed to slip into the room without them noticing.

"Long enough," he gave one of his usual, ambiguous answers, but this time there was no hint of the impatience that he usually spoke it with. No, today Tommy Shelby was standing in the doorway smiling.

"Are you ready, (Y/N)?" Polly turned to (Y/N) to check.

"I am," (Y/N) gave an assured nod, a smile present on her face as she looked back at her father.

"Pol, you and I should head out and make sure our seats are still open," Ada stated, placing her hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze before she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door.

"It's going to be wonderful," Polly whispered to (Y/N), pulling her in for one last hug before she went and joined her niece at the door. She whispered something to Tommy, something that (Y/N) couldn't hear, before she and Ada exited the dressing room.

"Ready?" Tommy asked (Y/N) once they were alone.

"Ready as I'll ever be," (Y/N) answered, letting out a breath then as the excited jitters started to build up in her stomach. A smile returned to her features as she walked over to her father. "Let's go," she said, nodding her head as she spoke.

"I have one last thing to give to you," Tommy stated, making her stop in her tracks.

"What's that, dad?" she asked, her brows furrowing together.

"I've been wearing this since the day that she left..." he started off, undoing the top button of his dress shirt so that he'd have an easier time taking off the gold necklace he was wearing. When he did get it off, (Y/N) saw that there was a locket on it as well. "This was my mum's. The flower on the front represents strength. The pictures on the inside are worn out, but the flower's still present, so I wear it for strength," he shared some details behind the necklace he wore everyday, holding it out for her to see it better. "I want you to wear it today," he finished his statement with a suggestion, one that (Y/N) was quickly nodding in agreement too. She'd never seen him be so sentimental about something before, and so she was honored to be able to borrow and wear it for the day.

Tommy smiled at her answer before he moved over and clasped the necklace around her neck. "It's pretty, dad," she commented as she got an even better look at the intricately designed locket.

"Your grandmum had good taste," he answered her, his words making her look up to see that he was trying hard to keep the tears back.

"If you start crying, I'll start crying," she told him, her words making him chuckle.

"I won't," he promised her.

A smile formed on (Y/N)'s face and she glanced down at the locket one last time before closing the gap and hugging her father tightly. "Thank you, dad," she whispered, trying her best to hold her tears back as he held onto her equally as tight.

"It's time," one of the ushers entered the room to announce.

"Ready?" Tommy asked his daughter as they pulled away from each other.

"So ready," she answered with a wide smile. "You ready?" she turned the question back onto him.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered with a smile of his own, one that (Y/N) wished she could take a picture of and keep forever. She'd never seen her father smile so much.

"Let's go then," (Y/N) nodded, walking to the door with her father by her side.

They were led to where the doors that opened to the main room of the church were. As they got closer, (Y/N) could hear the music that was being played as everyone prepared for her entrance. The butterflies started fluttering like crazy as she and Tommy stopped at the closed doors. In just moments, she'd be brought down the aisle to the man who would be her husband.

Tommy couldn't help but look at his daughter as they waited for the signal to go. He still couldn't believe that today was her wedding day, and that in just a few moments he'd be walking her down the aisle. James was a good man (he'd made sure of that) a man who had promised to take care of (Y/N) until his last day. As much as he didn't want to let her go, he knew he had to. She'd grown up right in front of him and become a young woman, who he was so immensely proud of.

"Ready, dad?" his daughter's question pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he used the same answer that he'd given her in the dressing room, his response making her giggle.

"Don't let me fall," she whispered to him then, taking his outstretched arm, wrapping hers around it.

"Never," he promised her, sending her a wink and a small smile before the doors opened and they took their first step down the aisle.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[regulusrules]

MASTERLIST + FAQ

— COMPLETED FICS

My breaths are run by your compass [T] [71K] (bbc merlin) — julius caesar AU. post-dotd, golden age. Merlin stabs Arthur but it’s all Arthur’s fault.

The last letter of Arthur Pendragon [G] [>1K] (bbc merlin) — With trembling hands, Merlin reads Arthur’s last words.

I will turn your fear into a handful of dust [G] [1K] (bbc merlin) — Growing old together fic. 5 times Arthur asks Merlin, “Do you fear me?”

My heart is readily yours [T] [11.7K] (bbc merlin) — s05e03 the death song of uther pendragon divergence. Ghost!Uther stabs Merlin in his heart, and Merlin collapses in Arthur’s arms. (my forever favourite creation)

To you I swear my solemn oaths [G] [3.8K] (bbc merlin) — s04e03 the wicked day divergence. magic reveal right before Arthur’s coronation.

In the Air We Breathed [G] [1K] (the last hours) — Will’s POV of James’s wedding while Jem was playing the violin.

Veiled Emotions [T] [50K] (harry potter) — separate one-shots of the marauders era, mainly Sirius and Regulus-centric. You can also find them posted separately here.

— MERLIN FIC RECS

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welcome to the wonderworld of regulusrules✨

[crystalskiesandcherrywine]

The sound of the waves collide // Part Three

Now we are getting somewhere... smutty. Given the nature of our favourite Giedi Prime bad boy, you can think of some possible tw.

And now I need to lay back on the couch and listen to NIN "Closer" on repeat...

Na Baron Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader

FXM

All feedback is welcome <3

Part One // Part Two // Part Four

1.264 words

Reverend Mother summons you. In the grandeur of the Emperor's library, amidst the tranquil silence and the books that whisper of forgotten tales, you stand before her. Kaitain, the residence of the Emperor, has a mild climate and seems comparatively softer than the weather in your Atreides home. It makes me wonder how the harsh surroundings of Giedi Prime affect its people and the ruling House of Corrino. You think this might be the last time you can enjoy your linen gowns, airy and light, with the fabric flowing down to your feet.

„How was your meeting?“ She says while reading a message scroll without looking up. 

"We were officially introduced and I already sense a degree of ownership in him." Lying to her would be futile. 

"And what about your second meeting?" Although her tone remains unchanged, your body stiffens. 

"Unexpected" is all you can muster. Reverend Mother lifts her veil and says, 

„He seems to destabilise you with surprising ease. Remember your mission: you are the one in control, not him. So much hangs in the balance, and you should know the consequences of not following through.“

The remainder of Lady Jessica's insubordination stings, but you bite your tongue. 

"I heard that Na Baron takes great pride in his cobat skills. He should be in the training halls at the moment." With the veil being placed back in front of her face and the sound of the message scroll being closed, you are dismissed. 

Guided by servants, you arrive at the training grounds. Your brother isn't there, having skipped his routine to spend time with his wife after their wedding. A few servants stay on the perimeter, while Gurney and a couple of other familiar faces of the Atreides guard are visible in the ring. The Na Baron is in the middle of his training with other Harkonnens and doesn’t realize he is being watched. You appreciate the unobstructed view. Sweat is running down his chest, along his abs, into the waistband of his trousers. His skin seems to be made of porcelain, yet he is as flexible as a clear mountain spring, a stream of energy moving through him, a testament to his relentlessness.

Gurney notices you and you signal your desire with a small gesture of your hand to challenge him. Gurney raises an eyebrow but is too intrigued to decline. 

He approaches Feyd Rautha with confidence. 

"Your skills are well-known. Would you indulge in a sparring session? I believe we are a match for each other." 

The Na-Baron agrees. "With pleasure. It has been a while since I had such a formidable opponent as yourself.“ 

Their shields snap back into place, veiling them both in a slightly blue shimmer.

Although their combat is just training, both are instantly focused. With power and grace, they exchange knife jabs, and suddenly, with a swift motion, Gurney lands Na Baron on his back. Feyd retaliates with a knock of his head and now both are on the ground, interlocked but not willing to give up. Your eyes are on Feyds smooth, powerful movements. The thought of his grace extending beyond the realm of physical combat sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within that you struggle to contain.

The sound of your clapping makes them both raise their heads towards you. 

„You are both well-seasoned warriors!“ you say, gathering the attention of the men. Feyd Rautha's gaze is filled with a mix that begins to seem familiar: adrenaline, lust, and something else that one could describe as malice. Both get up and bow their heads. 

„Do you enjoy the view?" he asks. 

"I certainly did," In reaction to your praise he raises the blade to his tongue and flicks it along the tip. Without further interaction, you turn away, leaving him panting and wanting more of you. 

You are on the way back to guest wing, seeking company of your parents. With only a few hours left together, you want to use all the remaining time to speak, to listen, and to keep your betrothed waiting. 

You are seated next to Paul and Irulan at dinner and their happiness serves as a calming ray of light in the mix of your emotions. Having changed into a dark green halter neck gown you feel like a shadow next to the happy couple. Seeing them like this strengthens your resolve to adhere to the plan and keep your desire for Feyd under lock and key. When you excuse yourself to retreat for the night's rest, Feyd Rautha appears suddenly next to you. 

„I would be honoured to escort you, Princess.“ His voice seems to conceal a sardonic, dark energy beneath a veneer of politeness.

Your parents do not object, so you take his arm and leave the crowded room. Not even five minutes later, he leads you down a different corridor, one that does not lead to your quarters. As you try to object, your back is against the wall, his knees nudging your thighs apart, and his mouth is claiming yours. You feel the impact of his methodical and measured actions instantly. It appears something is simmering within him, waiting to break the surface. After what feels like an eternity, he releases your lips and gazes down at you with his stunning blue eyes. Your urge to kiss him back instantly almost overpowers you, the embers of carnal desire taking up more and more space within you.

Your hands reach out to his torso, feeling his muscles through the leather vest.He responds by closing his eyes and almost hissing. His lips descend on your neck like a hawk, his tongue dancing around the halter of your dress. The light material that was so comfortable only minutes earlier now irritates you. You want to be rid of it, rid of his attire and feel his skin against yours. Before you know it, you are facing the wall, feeling his body pressed against yours, his arousal evident. You are so close to giving in and then he makes a mistake.

„You will be a most exquisite addition to my collection, pet“ is objectifying and disrespectful.

 An instant wave of humiliation and anger washes over you. 

„Let me go!“ you growl, your voice full of indignation. 

'Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like it, yet again’“ He clearly toys with you. 

„Let me go“

He releases you instantly and you almost fall. In his eyes, you see the confusion everyone experiences when being subjected to the voice for the first time. 

„You are using your witch powers on me?“

 „How dare you mix me up with your so-called pets? I am a Princess of the House Atreides . If you even think of enjoying your pets and then laying your hands on me, you are mistaken!“ 

He doesn’t move but looks at you menacing, a vicious predator coming to the surface. 

"Is the Princess jealous now?" 

You stare at him angrily in return. The embers of desire are turned into a white glow of fury now.

 „I will return to my quarters alone.“

Without a word, he seems to turn around, then thinks better of it and presses you against the wall again. This time, his hand reaches right for your core, and the humiliation of being soaking wet is written on your face. His fingers circle your clit, making you whimper and as they crawl closer to your entrance, he abruptly stops. He seems to enjoy himself, sucking his fingers clean. As his steps disappear into the distance, you compose yourself and make your way. 

[heartfullofleeches]

You've got mail!

Alt title: Single Ghost babes in your area

Yan Chain-Letter Entity + Amab/G.N "Loser" Reader [smut, mdni]

[Tags: light horror elements, masturbation, tit fucking]

-

!WARNING!

Now that you've read this, there is no going back.

The woman in this photo was a young bride getting for her big day. Following traditions of her new family, she was forced to wear her veil the entire week predating the ceremony, and quite unhappy with her situation. Her marriage was arranged and she had yet to fall for her new husband. She begged for a way out, help given in the form a voice from the shadows offering to change her appearance the night before her wedding. When her husband and in-laws saw her new face the next day - they all went mad from terror. This image is the only picture of her face and she'll do anything to keep it hidden.

Send this message to eight people in seven days, or she'll visit you at midnight on the final day."

"...."

"... hear me out..."

The air stills - warranted caution to keep your big mouth shut where input was not needed - or wanted.

"Why is she hot?..."

A collective, drawn out groan harmonizes from those plagued by your company.

"..what the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

Below the totally scary and terror inducing text was a photo of a woman shrouded in darkness. Part of her dark outline rooted from the shadowy grey veil draping to her long, thin neck, and waist-length jet black hair framing her pale, ashen skin. Her sunken eyes and mouth agap in a silent scream stretched the cloth against her hollow cheeks - small, white irises fainty visible from her empty sockets and the veil that hide them. The same white eyes your friend had alleged to have been staring them back at them when they looked in the mirror all week.

As unsettling as the picture was to most in your group, your eyes had settled on the more pleasant sight of her shapely figure shown off in the tightly fitted, lacey gown she wore.

"What?! I can't be the only one that noticed how huge her tits are! I hate when people make these cheesy attempts to scare you, and the monster that's supposed to be sooo scary is just some ghost. You can't even really see her face in the first place!"

"God, how do we put up with you... Just make sure you send that back to the rest of us before you leave."

The bulk of your collective friend group had gathered to comfort the unfortunate soul who received the email, and squander their fears by sending it between one another to meet the chain letter's rule. You tagged along for the offer of free lunch, and now that you've gotten your meal you're ready to head home and avoid meeting these people again with the exception of an online space. You stand up from the table, tucking your phone into your back pocket.

"Yea, yea I'll do it when I get home."

"Y/n..."

"I said I'll do it later. I promise, as soon as I get through the door I'll do it."

-

11:58....

11:59....

12..

Opening your eyes, you expect to find angry, sunken eyes staring back, but all you see is the blank white wall of your ceiling. A week ago, you sorta forgot about the whole chain letter scare by the time you made it home, and only remembered minutes before the deadline upon realizing how pathetic it'd look if you died with your dick in your hands when you opened a new priva tab on your laptop. As figured, not a damn thing happened upon the stroke of midnight and quite frankly you felt it must've just been some stupid prank by your friends after not hearing a word from any of them during that time frame. You guessed there'd be no hot ghost chick to cause your untimely demise this time - but it never hurt to make sure.

"Gee, I sure hope a sexy ghost doesn't pop out to kill me right as I pull down my sweatpants. That would sure suck, and the embarrassment alone would probably end me!"

Nothing. You reopen your laptop with a heavy sigh. "Welp- Since I'm still alive, guess it's back to tonight's scheduled plans."

Tugging one hand into the waist of your sweats, you pull up one of your usual sites for quality adult content - scouring for the right material to fit the mood. Alot of good choices, but strangely every thumbnail you clicked lead to a dead link. You switch to multiple sights, but the same thing just kept happening. Frustrated, you don't bother wasting time looking at the preview of a message sent by one of your friends as you scroll. If they could wait this long to text you, they could wait a little longer for you to respond.

Ready to throw in the towel and let your imagination work its magic - you finally manage to get a stream open through sheer determination and miscellaneous presses.

"Finally...." You push your sweats past your thighs as the video opens on a woman sitting on a bed. The room is too dark to see most of her, but the camera and lighting was centered on all you needed to see to pull out your swelling length. The woman's flowing gown hugged the plump flesh of her thighs, rolling up to her hips - and revealing the of her transparent fabric of her underwear as she parted her legs slowly. She removes one strap from her shoulder, long hair falling over her breasts as she contorted to better fit her face into frame.

Head crashing into your pillow with a small groan, you fist your cock to the woman's beautiful image and thought of her large tits in placement of your palm. Your hand could only mirror a fraction of their softness and you whine as your thumb pressing the tip, picturing plush lips closing around you as you came. Your entire being yearned to paint her pretty face and chest in your release - narrowly avoiding the unnatural whites of her eyes at the intensity and build up of your climax left your own body out of your control.

Peeling your eyes open for the second time, the speed of your hand slows as you start to get the odd feeling of being watched. Looking back at the screen, the woman stares back, appearing directly in front of the camera as cold sweat breaks down your neck. Her fingers slither along the glass, reaching through your monitor as your eyes widen in horror. You scream- throwing the laptop as far from your person as you coward against the bedframe. It lands, screen upwards feet from your bed. Loud cracks and snaps play from the speakers as the woman pulls herself free with janky, articulated movements. Her gown falls down to her knees and her veil washes over her face as she climbs to her feet.

You pull your blankets over your shamefully, almost painfully hard dick as you raise your hands in defeat. "Please don't kill me! I'll send the messages right now, for real!'

The woman cocks her head to one side - eyes shrinking as you cover yourself.

"Don't hide...."

She crawls over your quivering legs, gripping at the end of her veil.

"I've taken on so many face - yet, none of them have ever been called attractive before.... Tell me..."

The room light's flicker as she pulls the veil upwards - slowly revealing the dark void where her face used to be. Thin claw marks drew from the intact flesh of her cheeks and jaw to the permanent shadows gouging her features dug deep as if whatever had done this to her had taken more than just her face. The pearly points of her teeth and the whites of her eyes were all that remained of her mortal beautiful. Shaking in fear, your body betrays your fright as your cock jumps watching her drag her tongue over her sharp rows of teeth.

"Do you think I'm beautiful now?...."

At lost for words, you dip your head in reply - eventually squeaking through a strained voice. "You're the hottest ghost that's ever been in my room.

The woman's body writhes with a full body shutter as she takes the blanket in her hands. "Let's see that I'm the only person in your bedroom... living or otherwise."

You hiss from the cool air enveloping your cock as the entity tears the last shield protecting your shred of dignity away. It not like the had much to begin with, but sleeping with the ghost that most likely killed your friends definitely took whatever was left. Her heated breath fans your skin as your cock springs from your shorts and against her cheek. Turning her head, your muscles lock as her sharp teeth come to contact with the head of your penis. There's some give before them, lips hidden by the shadows of her face puckered around your weeping tip as an impossible long snakes from between the two and spirals down your girth as her breasts spill from her tightly fitted top.

Cradling an arm beneath them, the ghost woman sandwiches cards your dick between her breasts. Her tongue, still working around you, provides lubrication - and lewd suction as she bounces the weight of her large tits in your lap. The tip of her tongue grazes your balls and you feel them tighten as you rock your hips into the supple flesh of her chest. Her tongue squeezes at your increasing pulse and her veil falls back in place as she to uses both hands to better assist her assault on your pulsing dick.

You tangle your hand through her hair, cock swallowed by her breasts and plump lips. Your other gropes at her tits, toying with her nipples as hitched gasps and the growing sloppiness of your thrusts signed your peak. The coil in your lower abdomen breaks right as she pulls her lips from your swollen head, using her tongue, face and breasts to catch the milky fluid that pumps from you in thick spurts. The white streaks contrast the dark silhouette of her face and as she looks up at you, you use a discarded blanket to wipe some of it away before collapsing on your mattress in a sweaty, panting heap.

The cotton touch of your pillow is placed with soft flesh as the woman crawls beside you in bed and pulls you closer to her. She brushes hair away from your clammy forehead, raising her veil to kiss your skin as your arms fall around her.

"Sleep now, my love... We'll play more once you've gotten some rest. I look forward to all the things we'll do in the future. I'm sorry about your friends, but I seem to be more of the jealous type..."

You fight off the spell of exhaustion to shrug lazily with a reply that makes your new wife smile from ear to ear.

"Eh.... fuck 'em, it was worth it."

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N: Hello my little doves! Sorry for keeping you waiting. Let me know what you think, love you all xx PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT TO TAG YOU!

Warnings: Baron pissing me off.

Words: 3.030K

Chapter Ten ‘’Escaping the Baron’’

The preparations were made for Feyd to leave Giedi Prime to Arrakis. Everything happened so fast after that blissful night with his wife…

His things were packed without his command, his soldiers, advisors and servants were leaving the planet to make sure once Feyd leaves his home planet he can be greeted in a suitable way. He found himself outside of the fortress, in the courtyard, His uncle was in his floating device, his wife was standing close to his uncle in a black dress, he knew why she wore that velvet black dress, she was mourning his leave and it frustrated him. He came up with plans to take her with him but that would draw too much unwanted attention. The second he shows affection to Y/N and she would be in grave danger. Her face was covered with a black veil, she was standing straight, hands clasped.

‘’Finish the job your brother started.’’ Baron spoke, his voice echoing in the courtyard by speakers he installed into his floating device, ‘’Kill every Fremen if needed be.’’ He tilted his device to give a dominant kiss to his nephew, it was their custom and Feyd hated every second of it. When he bid farewell to his uncle he turned to his wife, he had to be extra careful. He approached with his stoic expression, lifted her veil with both of his hands and there she was with shiny eyes and frustrated look.

‘’Farewell, Wife.’’ He said, his voice was colder than ice, it cut her deep but she knew why.

‘’Farewell, Husband.’’ Thanks to her Bene Gesserit training she was good at acting. ‘’I hope to meet my first born when I come back.’’ He said it so that his uncle could hear that the only thing Feyd cares is having a strong lineage. With his peripheral vision he could see the smirk on the Baron’s extremely pale face.

Feyd turned and bowed to his uncle for the last time and turned to the ship which was waiting for him. He left his heart and hopes behind.

The following days for Y/N was harder than expected, every morning Baron’s private doctor came to check if she was pregnant or not, thankfully Feyd mentioned about this before, the reason why the doctor didn’t come after their wedding was that Feyd postponed it for her, how thoughtful he was…

She portrayed a perfect persona to the Baron and his spies, she was sending messages to her family and her Bene Gesserit friends, especially the Reverend Mother. She knew that her messages were being read so in every message she mentioned how much she appreciates the Harkonnens and especially the Baron’s kind gestures. However, someone like Reverend Mother and Jessica could read between the lines, Bene Gesserit developed a method to hide secrets between the lines. Baron thought she was just a silly little girl who is missing her family and friends and that’s why she was sending letters every day, the truth was that she was writing reports of what happens to her and her surroundings every single day. Feyd told her to wait for his message and she was waiting day and night. A week after Feyd’s departure Rabban came back to Giedi Prime. He was more sour than usual since he couldn’t control Arrakis and the spice production. Baron greeted him coldly and looked at him as if he stepped on a cockroach, she could see Rabban’s pale blue eyes landing on her, he was a simple man so it was easy to read him. He wasn’t going to do anything just yet, he was planning something.. at this point it was anyone’s game.

When she learned that she was pregnant with Feyd’s child she was sitting by the couch in her living room, her maids standing behind her, the doctor smiling wickedly, she knew as soon as the doctor leaves he was going to run to the Baron to deliver the news, ‘’Since you are from Bene Gesserit it is best for her ladyship to make the baby’s gender boy. House Harkonnen would be pleased.’’ He was basically saying that she had no choice but to give birth to a son. Thankfully she still had some time to change the baby’s gender in her womb. It had been the 5th week of Feyd’s departure and still he didn’t send any letters or messages to her, she was getting worried, ‘’Any news of my husband?’’ she asked the doctor hoping that he might know something. The doctor was packing his things, she noticed the slight shake in his hands, he didn’t turn to her, ‘’Unfortunately I do not possess any knowledge of our Na-Baron.’’ He explained without addressing her sitting figure, ‘’Thank you doctor.’’ She said kindly and watched him leave her chambers. She bolted to her feet when he left, she turned to her trusted girls, ‘’I have a feeling that my husband has been sending letters to me and someone is hiding them from me,’’ she began she was pacing in the room in her satin gold dress, her bouncy hair was falling from her shoulders. ‘’My lady.’’ The old maid she brought with her spoke, ‘’If your worries are true, we are here to help you.’’ They all bowed to her, she felt the overwhelming emotions of gratitude and hope washing over her like the waves in Caladan.

Ever since she learned she was pregnant she was debating whether or not she should sent a letter informing him about the pregnancy.

Baron wasn’t the only one who had spies, Y/N trained her small group of maids the ways of learning information and unraveling the secrets, after few days one of her maids came to her and told her that Feyd-Rautha’s letters were directly going to the Baron’s room and the maid could snatch one of the them which was sent to Y/N. Y/N gracefully thanked the young girl and dismissed her, later she immediately opened the crystal tablet which consisted of Feyd-Rautha’s handwriting.

‘’My dear wife,

My days in Arrakis have been occupied with never ending strategies, spice production and making sure Fremen rebels are under control. I have a hectic schedule and yet here I am thinking of you and your well-being every second. This is the 5th letter I am writing to you and I do not know why you don’t have time to write me back but thankfully my people keep informing me of your state. You are healthy, and thriving with your maids surrounding you. It seems like I will be here for a year, cleaning Rabban’s mess.

Please write to me as soon as possible.

Yours faithfully, your husband Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.’’

Tears covered her eyes, if this was the 5th then he must have been writing to her every week and waiting for an answer… ‘’Damn you Baron!’’ she cursed under her breath, she lit the fire place and destroyed the letter, she had to. She couldn’t afford someone finding it. She knew very well that if she wrote a letter it won’t reach to him so she had to come up with a plan. Thankfully she had excuse, Irulan was inviting her to spend some time with her, she left her chambers and marched to the Baron’s.

He was playing chess with the doctor when his guards let her in. This was the first time she saw his living room, it was covered in spice carpets and pillows, it was colorful than she had anticipated.

‘’My Baron.’’ She bowed,  waiting for his raspy reply, ‘’Lady Y/N, it is lovely to see you here. Oh, forgive me, congratulations. I cannot wait to see Feyd’s first born son.’’ It was a threat, if she gave birth to a girl then her life would be in danger. She unconsciously placed her hand on her stomach, ‘’Have no worries Baron, I am eager to give birth to strong sons.’’ She had to play to his ego and he seemed pleased. ‘’Please, sit.’’ He gestured near a chair and she sat. ‘’Do tell Lady Y/N, what brought you to my chambers.’’ She noticed how focused the doctor was, listening to them. ‘’Princess Irulan has sent me a letter, inviting me to her domain.’’  Baron pretended like he had no idea, ‘’Oh, what a generous invitation.’’ He commented. ‘’I would love to visit her and my family before my pregnancy hinders me from any activities.’’ She sounded calm, if she showed too much interest then Baron would suspect something.

‘’I’m afraid I cannot allow that.’’

Her ears were ringing.

She used a Bene Gesserit technique to calm her nerves. ‘’May I ask why?’’

Baron’s eyes were glued to the chess table, trying to beat the doctor, ‘’Since your husband isn’t here I am responsible for you and my nephew’s offspring. If something were to happen to you, how would I answer to my dear Feyd?’’

She stood up gracefully, ‘’I understand. Thank you for your time.’’ To that Baron only nodded and continued his chess game. As she was leaving she promised to herself that one way or another she was going to escape.

Her feet took her outside and to the courtyard and to the green house Feyd had built it for her, it was the most kindest gesture anyone has made for her.. full of her favorite flowers and plants. As soon as she walked in she slammed the door and noticed that she was breathing inside. That place was her haven and only place she could breath in this hostile planet. How she wished to be in Arrakis, in the middle of the desert instead of being in the hands of Baron. She sat on one of the wooden benches, closed her eyes and took deep breaths in and out and she was calm again. She remembered that night when Feyd brought her here.. it was magical. ‘’We still have a chance.’’ She said and when she opened her eyes she had a scheme to get out of here.

Every Friday cargoes from Arrakis would come and bring spice to Giedi Prime, Baron was directly stealing from the Emperor. The cargo ships would come at night and after the guards collect the boxes filled with the spice they would leave again. This transaction only took 15 minutes, they were fast and well coordinated so she had to be quick. She only had three days, all night she studied the cargo ship’s design and the palace which the Harkonnes had built in Arrakis 80 plus years ago.

Arrakis was a complete strange place, she grew up in planets which had forests, ocean, flowers and plants but Arrakis only had the desert, huge rocks for Sieches and the Harkonnen palace. The Fremens had their own language, had their own style of fashion… she had limited amount of time to learn as much as she could.

She spent her day time as usual, not attracting any eyes, she had breakfast, wandered in the fortress, had conversations with servants, politicians. She was going to leave alone, she didn’t dare to put her maids in danger.

On Friday an invitation came from Baron, he would like to dine with her in the evening, she couldn’t refuse but she also didn’t want to delay her departure any longer. She came up with a plan, thanks to her Bene Gesserit programming she could predict the outcome of every plan and situation. She rubbed her stomach in a loving way, ‘’We are Atreides, we survive.’’ She whispered to her baby, her trainings made her be aware of everything and sense everything, she could feel her baby, it was a warm feeling.

In the evening she was dressed by her maids, as usual. Her dress was black, it was the color of Harkonnens, her dress was modest with long sleeves, she was escorted to one of the small dining halls, the great fortress had multiple dining halls, ball rooms etc. As the black metal doors opened she saw the Baron, in his chair, at the head of the table which held various types of dishes. He was an extravagant man when it came to food. ‘’Lady Y/N, excuse me I cannot stand. Please do be seated.’’ His raspy voice sent waves of negativity to her but she had to endure. ‘’Thank you Baron.’’ She replied and sat close to him, ‘’No other guests Baron?’’ she asked intrigued, she thought the table would be crowded. ‘’I don’t have the mental state to deal with guests.’’ He started eating and she looked at her plate, it smelled delicious, ‘’You must eat Lady Y/N for you are with child.’’

‘’Yes Baron.’’ And she began eating, the room had white glowglobes, she preferred yellow or orange lights, the fire place was lit, lately it was cold. ‘’I must add,’’ he began, his pale blue eyes were on food he was eating and the food he wanted to eat… it was disgusting. She lifted her head to address him, ‘’my nephew has been sending me letters of his well-being and the state he is in. Arrakis is under our control, thankfully.’’ He was a jerk, he was implying that Feyd was sending him letters and not her but it wasn’t true, Baron was keeping the letters he had sent for his wife. ‘’Oh,’’ she began, pretending like she had no idea, ‘’I do sincerely hope that my husband is healthy and is taken care of.’’ She made her voice sorrowful, just like Baron expected it… a dumb girl who fell in love with his nephew.

‘’He is very well and he has great company by his side.’’ She immediately understood his intention, he was hinting that Feyd had women warming his bed, she felt her stomach turn but didn’t flinch. They kept eating, she listened to his Harkonnen family stories, she was good at detecting which information he was keeping a secret or altering but his next words were something she didn’t expect it.

‘’After all… Feyd was the one who murdered his dear mother Emmi Rabban.’’

Her mind went to the day she had discovered the old book of Harkonnen lineage.

Emmi Rabban; Matricide

Baron chuckled in satisfaction when he saw her face fell, ‘’Would you like to know why dear Na-Baroness?’’ he was daring tonight, she blinked few times but composed herself, ‘’Maybe I will tell you one day.’’ He laughed hard this time, she couldn’t sit there anymore, her stomach was turning and she was about to throw up. ‘’Excuse me Baron, I would like to retire to my chambers.’’ She bolted to her feet, he laughed again and licked his thick fingers, ‘’You may Na-Baroness. Sleep tight.’’

Y/N didn’t remember how she left that dining hall but on her way to her chambers she stopped to throw up, the guards who saw her came for help but she stopped them with the rise of her hand, ‘’I’m fine, go back to your duties and find someone to clean this mess.’’ She said and she quickly went back to her chambers, she didn’t have much time if she wanted to leave right now. She quickly changed into pants and tunic, tied up her hair and got a small bag with her which she prepared, the fortress was silent just like every other night. She choose the desolated halls of the fortress to be safe. Her heart eas beating in her throat and ears, she remembered the night she tried to escape Feyd and he pulled a great game, it was her time now.

The cargo ships were landing outside of the fortress but near it for carrying them inside, she walked in the shadows of the garden, if one could call it a garden… it was just an open space with pale white marble floors. Outside smelled like a factory pipe, they have destroyed the nature of the planet, only few small forests remained in this huge landscape.

A cold breeze touched her body and made her shiver, she held her headscarf and continued walking, everywhere had guards but it was shift changing hour so she had few minutes to climb over the black walls, she climbed the small tree which was planted in a marble pot, later she lifted her left leg and pushed herself on top, she was sitting on the wall now, she had to jump and roll. She took a deep breath, rubbed her stomach, she might lose her baby after this jump but she had to. From her trusted resources she had found out that Baron’s plan was to toss her aside as soon as she gives birth. Y/N took a deep breath and as she predicted she rolled on the stone floor to make the impact softer than normal. Her ankle was hurt when she stood up, she had to keep her mouth shut, she wanted to scream but didn’t dare. She was limping, she knew she had few scratches but she kept going. She could see the cargo ships landing, soldiers walking to collect the harvest, she was hiding behind a metal box, watching soldiers and memorizing their movements, they were like robots, same faces, uniforms and movements. She easily moved behind the shadows and when the boxes of spice were taken and the cargo ships were empty she had few seconds to get in before the hatch closed off. She looked around, soldiers were occupied with the boxes, no one paid mind to the empty cargo ships and she did her move. She made sure her head, hair was covered, one could only see her deep eyes.

As she sneaked into the empty ship she came face to face with a bald headed and bulky soldier, they both froze and her training paid off. Before the solider could alert the others she used the voice on him.

‘’You didn’t see me.’’ She looked at the box he had, ‘’You only came here to get the boxes out and your job is finished, this conversation never happened.’’

He looked like was in trans, he carried the box outside and never looked back and the hatch of the ship closed.

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[ilys00ga]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

pairing: yoongi x female reader.

synopsis: where you meet him during your best friend's wedding. can a heart beat again after breaking to pieces?

genre: best friend's brother!yoongi, actress!female reader, bookshop owner!yoongi, angst, kind of hurt/comfort, there's also some fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, first encounters.

warnings: cheating, heartbreak, slight mentions of depression, failed past relationship, smoking. this is pure fiction ⚠️ !!

A/N: sorry for any typos or mistakes. just enjoy, pls :)! also, I might write a second part for this one. idk, tho.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

- incoming message: "saera <3: are you ditching at the last minute?"

the screen read.

oppening the door to the hall in which everyone was already sat, you made your way into the room as quietly and as quickly as possible. and with your eyes scanning around in an attempt to spot your usual group of friends, a wave of relief washed over you upon finally spotting them.

"finally! was almost certain you won't be showing up." your friend, saera, muttered under her breath and pulled you to sit closer by her side.

"why wouldn't I?" you scoffed at first, but continued with a more serious tone upon seeing the concerned look her face held, "I'm sorry, I... got distracted."

"distracted?" her brow rose in a stern question, before slowly shaking her head in defeat. "right. seriously though, if you feel like it's too much just say the word and we'll leave."

"no, I'll leave and you'll stay and have all the fun here. I won't let my messed up past ruin this for you too." you argued.

"hey-!"

"I'm fine, I promise. I wouldn't be here if I weren't. we need to drop this topic now." you took her hands in yours, looking into her eyes with a serious expression, and she silently nodded her head after a few seconds. you smiled at her in thanks before turning to greet Jimin and Jisung, your other friends from work who were sitting right behind the two of you.

"how are you boys doing?"

"I'd be better if it weren't for this ridiculous dress code we had to follow." Jisung pointed to the pink hat he was wearing with a frown. Soyoon, the bride and your dearest friend, had insisted on setting a dress code for all the guests. everyone had to wear anything as long as it's not black - "black is boring! this is a wedding! MY wedding!" - or crazy-colorful, along with a special piece - a pink hat or a pink hair clip. something pink, you do you.

no one understood this weird dress code, yet no one dared to complain, simply trying to style their options as best as they could. and in her defense, sweet, typical Soyoon said she wanted to play around and test her guests for fun.

"talking as if you wouldn't wear the most ridiculous looking outfits on random work days all in the name of fashion." jimin chimed in to tease the other whining man, making saera laugh. the room fell silent, and the ceremony began shortly after they started their usual bickering war of words.

in your honest opinion, Soyoon was a very gorgeous woman. she was always well presented and beautiful. however, as she stood before the crowd with her smile so big and radiant, she looked like a literal princess. you stared at your best friend in pure awe because you're genuinely happy for her. so, so happy. and you ignored the feeling that weighted down on your heart as your mind clung back to the day you wore your own white gown and your own veil, all to cherish this precious moment. to celebrate with your loved ones.

just like that, the vows were pronounced and the husband kissed his bride. cheers and claps filled the room, and everyone moved to congratulate the newly wedded lovers. yet the party is still very young.

you stood aside for a while, allowing yourself to drink in the beautiful sight of pure happiness and love, reminding yourself that the world is still moving even though you were busy being stuck in the past. you observed until the tornado that's been brewing in your chest grew violent before walking out of the scene, out and towards the small lake situated not far away from the building.

it's been exactly eight months and a couple of days since you've stood in front of your own wedding venue. eight-going-nine months since you got your heart broken.

maybe you were just a coward, too scared to face your own emotions, but it's not like you chose not to attend one all this time. you just couldn't. no matter how hard you tried to overcome the pain, the wound was still so fresh, and it only seemed to be getting bigger than you, swallowing you alive.

the pain of seeing the person you were so bewitched by, to whom you were ready to spend the rest of your life being committed, the one you loved with your entire heart inside some random room in the same venue the two of you chose to finally celebrate your love, all pressed up against the wall with another woman. kissing and doing things you decided not to even attempt to think about or recall.

at the time, it took you a good five minutes to get yourself together, to look closely to confirm that what you saw was indeed real and not just some messed up image your pre-wedding anxiety was trying to print into your brain, before sprinting out of the building and running far, far away from everything. running despite your legs feeling like they could explode at any given moment. you ran until you reached an empty unknown, crouching down and spilling your heart through your eyes and across your cold cheeks as you cried and cried and cried with the wind slapping against your skin.

from then on, you could never attend a wedding. no matter who the loved one was to you, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. all you could do was smile apologetically as you politely rejected their invitation. and they understood because they knew.

eight months and there you were. numb body sitting on a bench, with a little cigarette between a thumb and an index, pulling and exhaling every now and then as you let the calm of the lake and the green of the grass, along with the color of the flowers do their favorite game of soothing your heart.

part of you wished you were the smoke that rose and flourished in the sky, giving its weight and color up to become one with the wind.

"not a fan of parties too?" a voice that sounded concerned, but very timid and gentle, broke the silence. almost like it was too ashamed of announcing its own presence. and if its deepness startled you, you didn't let it show. Instead, you lifted your head and saw a man standing close by, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark blue trousers and head tilted slightly in question.

"mind if i join you?" the sight of him scratching the nape of his neck with an awkward smile triggered your own smile, but you really weren't in the mood, so you wordlessly nodded towards the empty spot next to you and he didn't comment on that.

"it's more about the event itself rather than the crowd." you took a cigarette out of your purse and extended it to the pale skinned man.

"well, then we're not as similar as I assumed. and for that, I apologize." he mused, accepting your offer with a smile. you watch as he put it between his lips and leaned in towards the lighter you held out for him. "thanks" he nodded, taking a long pull and sighing as he breathed out and goaned in satisfaction.

you didn't know what to say, how to lay it out to him. in fact, you weren't even sure if you should let him know. after all, he was a stranger that you've never seen before. but your heart squeezed with a sudden need to talk, to explain why and how you were so messed up, while your brains insisted no.

you shook your head with a sigh, trying to think of something to say when the man caught you off guard with a question, "do you like playing UNO?"

snapping your head towaards him, you saw him holding a box of UNO cards, waving it slightly and proudly showing it off to you with a smile, and you couldn't help but giggle at that.

"why did you carry UNO cards with you to a wedding?" he chuckled with a shrug before sheepishly admitting that he bought it as a gift for his little niece.

"do you want to play, yes or no?" he smirked and narrowed his eyes in a teasing manner.

"gosh. open it already."

he does as he's told, scooting a little farther than you to make a little space in which the two of you started playing the silly little game.

"how do you know Soyoon?" the man wondered aloud.

"she's my best friend slash co-worker. what about you?"

"her brother, yoongi." he simply answered. you knew Soyoon had a brother before, but you never got to meet or even ask about him.

"it's an honor to finally meet you, then. I'm ___."

"i know you, soyoon talked about you and a couple of other friends before." yoongi smiled shyly, everting his eyes to focus back on the game.

"you seem pretty good at this, wasn't expecting that, to be honest." yoongi hummed at your teasing comment, picking a card, a plus two card, when it was his turn and putting it atop the pilled up ones in the middle. "glad you're having fun. I was afraid you would stick to your frown for the rest of the ceremony and never show us your cute smile."

heat rushed through your face, tinting your cheeks as his words, along with his slick move and the smirk on his face settle in your head.

"you didn't seem happy." he explained further, locking his eyes with yours, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to brush your brush off and continued to play.

"I don't really fancy weddings." you said.

"understandable. I don't fancy parties and public places either."

"yeah, but your circumstances are probably very different from mine."

he snorts "social anxiety is social anxiety."

"did you get your heart broken from an ex fiancé, soon-to-be husband like i did?" you failed to fight the bite in your tone, and your face hardened for a moment before softening again when he didn't respond with anything.

"sorry about that." you apologized.

"it's fine." he smiled.

your little bubble was popped open when a feminine voice called out your name, saera was waving for you to come over. you let out a small "oh" and faced yoongi who scrunched his nose in response, "guess the game's over." he stood up and offered his hand for you.

"for now," you noted, taking his hand and standing up as well, "we still didn't see who's the winner."

for a brief moment, you looked down at the cards you were still holding in your other hand, and then met his eyes again, "it was a lovely game can't wait to see again and beat you at last."

you could feel your hands shaking slightly, hesitating before extending a reverse card towards him with a shy smile. yoongi stared dumbfoundedly at first, then took the card with an equally shy smile.

"I'll be eagerly waiting, then."

you two started towards the building, with you taking rushed steps thanks to the way saera's been signaling for you to hurry up! and you didn't miss her little smirk when you finally reached her, nor the way she discreetly tilted her head towards the other man who was still a few steps far behind.

"I've seen a lot, but playing card games as a first interaction in a ceremony is quite new to me." she linked her arm with yours and guided you towards the main hall, where everyone was still chatting and enjoying their time.

"the party's ending, let's go say bye to the bride!" you ignored her comment with a cheer.

"my girls!" soyoon greeted with her arms open wide for the two of you.

"our beautiful, beautiful bride!" and saera cheered just with an equal amount of joy.

the bride pulled away to look at you with a grateful smile, "thank you so much for being here."

"oh please, did you expect me to really ditch your special day because of some stupid past drama?!" you scoffed.

"I know how hard it's been for you, my dear. I'm so glad you're here."

"it's really nothing." you insist.

"yeah, she was having fun with your brother out there, don't worry about her." saera winked with a mischievous smile, which pulled a gasp from soyoon, startled.

"wait what?!"

"oh my god. stop, you two. we just talked a little bit. I've never got to meet him before." you whined.

"neither did I!" saera fired back.

"well, I'm not gonna lie, you two are a good material." soyoon smirked and giggled with saera. both of them always loved to tease you.

"I'm leaving!"

"don't forget, we're having a sleepover this weekend!" you roll your eyes at saera before bidding you goodbye, hugging the girls one last time and leaving with a weirdly much lighter heart.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

John the Apostle | One Day | Romantic

In spite of the bride being beautiful at the wedding in Cana, John only has eyes for the brightness surrounding you. 

Requested by Heather

“Okay, that’s— Ouch, that’s a bit tight!”

“Sorry,” Mary quips, “I’m not that good with braids… Uh, let’s see, it’s becoming a bit loose here—” 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—” 

You stand from your chair and tuck your hair behind your ears a little, walking over to the mirror. The braids Mary has attempted to create are a little asymmetrical, but neat enough. You give her a kind smile over your shoulder, which she mirrors nervously. 

“I don’t do other people’s hair all that often, and I—”

You let out a small noise at how apologetic she is, causing her words to hitch

“Mary, it’s fine. They’re very pretty. Thank you.” 

She smiles a bit.

“Are you serious? Aren’t you just saying it to make me feel better, now?” 

You give a small shake of your head, looking back at the mirror to tuck a few stubborn strands into place. 

“I’m serious. Have I ever lied to you?” 

Mary hums and smiles a bit, rubbing her neck. “Ah, I guess not.” 

“I really appreciate this, Mary. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do.” 

You slide your veil back over it in a way that it is still visible that something has been done to it.

A knock on the door and the voice of a slightly rushed John sounds from the other side. “Can you girls hurry? We have to leave before we—” 

You pull open the door before he can finish his sentence, and for a moment he stands with his mouth wide open on the threshold as he takes you in. It is obvious your (h/c) locks are differently placed than normal, and it frames your face in a certain way that has John’s heart skip a beat inside his chest.

“We’ll be right there.” you pipe up. It takes John a second to gather himself before he clears his throat. 

“Oh, um… Yes, of course. Your… Your hair, it’s… Uh… Different.” 

You nearly frown a little but manage to keep your face in check. After all, it doesn’t necessarily sound like a compliment.

“Ah, thank you. Mary fixed it for me.” 

John gives you a slow nod, trying his best to tear his gaze away from your face. He clears his throat once more, blinking as he steps back. 

“Ah, don’t be late. Jesus wanted to leave in a few minutes so that we’ll be arriving a short while before the ceremony, and… Well, you know.” 

“Of course.” 

The former fisherman pivots on his feet and heads back towards the others. Mary gives you a small, knowing smile.

“What?” you query when she raises an eyebrow at you. That look must mean something, although you aren’t certain what message it is supposed to convey.

“Nothing, just that I’m sure John thinks you look very pretty like that.” 

Your cheeks flame again at the notion. 

“It… It didn’t really sound like he enjoyed it a lot. He just said it looked different.” 

“I think he didn’t really know how to use his words.” Mary reassures you. You huff and shake your head, running your clamming palms down your dress.

“Nonsense, that’s just wishful thinking. John wouldn’t like me in that way, no way.” 

Mary hums and gives you another one of these looks.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n). Let’s go now, okay? The others are waiting for us.” 

You join the rest of the group, then head out to your meeting place, a little outside of Capernaum, where Jesus had agreed to catch up with you as well as a few other people - Thaddeus, Andrew and Simon as well as the two Jameses tag along as well. 

It’s already midday when you arrive, with the older son of Jonah reassuring his brother that everything will be alright, when Jesus walks up to the group with a kind smile on His features. 

“Perfect day for a wedding, huh?” 

“Master.”

“Simon, Andrew, Mary, (Y/n), James, John, Thaddeus. But where is uh…” 

As Jesus pauses in search of John’s big brother, Thaddeus is met with a piece of fruit against the back of the head and flinches.

“Uh-oh.” Jesus muses as James chuckles above you, already armed with another fruit. “Raining figs.”

“Figs for the journey.” James explains.

“Ah, how we won’t even need to stop for lunch!” 

He gracefully drops from the tree and lands on his feet, dusting down his tunic. 

“Thank you James.” Jesus says.

“Yes Master?” The curly-haired James standing in front of you asks, causing Jesus to straighten His back.

“Ah… Two Jameses. How will we solve this dilemma?” 

“Well, what if, uh… I go by Big James?” the taller James proposes. 

The others laugh a bit, including you.

“Is that acceptable to you, young James?” 

“Yes, I think that’s fair, Master.”

“And a sense of justice, too.” Jesus muses. “Then is settled. Now, to the road, my friends. The bride and groom await!”

A newfound tinge of excitement swells inside your chest. Weddings are always a fun celebration to attend. 

The ragtag group of people sets out to Cana, and you start your trek chatting with Mary about little things. “Have you ever been to Cana?” Mary wonders, at which you shake your head.

“I haven’t. Have you?” 

“No, and I also have never been to a wedding, either.” Mary responds.

“Ah, for me it’s… I think… My third one. My first one was my brother, the second one was Simon and Eden.” 

Mary’s lips part in surprise as she looks over her shoulder and you follow her gaze, but instead of meeting Simon’s face which you had expected to find, you look into the eyes of John. Your heart skips a beat as he quickly turns away, his jaw tightening. 

He looks like he has been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Had he been staring at you? You swallow hard as you mull it over — no, you’re certain that is definitely not what he was doing. Wishful thinking, nothing more, you remind yourself.

Upon turning back to Mary, you find her oblivious to that little moment you just shared with John. 

“How was it?” Mary wants to know. You absentmindedly hum, a bit puzzled by that probably quite insignificant encounter. It replays inside your mind over and over again.

“It was a good day.” 

Mary frowns. “Are you okay, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” 

You clear your throat and attempt to redirect the attention on the casual conversation. “Anyways, let me tell you everything about the wedding of Simon and Eden…” 

As you explain all the ins and outs of your friends’ wedding, you carry on through the plains of Judea, on your way to the party. The promise of good food and wine at the end of the road lights everyone’s spirit enough to not complain about blisters.

—

Cana is what you expected — a small village, about half the size of Capernaum, with not much going on. You’re certain that most guests roaming about at the local inns are actually wedding guests that have already arrived early, living too far away to head back home in between the days of festivities.

Jesus leads the group through the narrow streets, knowing where He has to be. For a moment, you look over your shoulder to see if everyone is caught up with the rest, and feel your heart flutter when you sense John’s eyes on you again. Not much unlike last time, he swallows hard and tears his gaze away with what almost looks like effort. You could swear there is a hint of pink on his cheeks, but perhaps it’s the searing afternoon sun that has left him flushed.

You arrive at a set of double doors. Jesus pushes through first, revealing that the preparations are already in full action. “Knock knock, can we come in?” An older woman tosses aside a small bouquet as she flings herself in the arms of Jesus. Your Teacher chuckles and lifts her off the ground a bit to meet her embrace. 

“Hi eema! Oh, how are you?” 

You smile at the gentle greeting in front of you, finding it sweet that Jesus is so close to His mother. 

“I have missed You!” she muses softly, cupping His face as she gives Him a once-over. “Look at You! It’s been a while… Have you been eating?” 

“I have been eating.” Jesus reassures her, putting a hand on her shoulder as He turns towards the group. You smile at Jesus’ mother as she takes you all in.

“These people have been helping me to eat, so…”

“Hi, how are you?” she steps forward and starts introducing herself as Mary. 

“My students.” Jesus clarifies as she goes through the line-up of people eager to meet her. Mary is a kind woman who clearly loves her Son a whole lot. You hadn’t expected otherwise, really. 

“Shalom, I’m (Y/n).” You shake her hand as she meets your gaze with glittering eyes.

“It’s so nice to meet you! And you are?” 

“I’m John.” You startle at bit, not realising that the man in question had been standing so close to you.

“Hello John, shalom! And you two are…” She points between you, and a confused frown appears on both of your faces, “You know, married?” 

“Oh— Oh no!” you quickly say, shaking your head as you take on an almost defensive stance. Your cheeks flame as John sputters an equally negative answer.

“No— We are just friends!” 

Mother Mary tilts her head a little. “Not betrothed, then?” 

You let out a nervous sound as you shake your head. “No— No… No, we aren’t.” 

She gives you a look alongside a small, high-pitched murmur — you are unsure what it means — and carries on introducing herself. You let out a shaky breath as you plant your hands on your hips, turning to John, who seems equally as flustered.

“Well, that was awkward.” you try to lighten the mood, causing John to scratch his neck. 

“Yeah… Yeah.” 

You clear your throat and take in the place in front of you as to avoid both eye-contact and making the situation even more uncomfortable. Flowers and candles adorn the place, tables already having been set, and servants are rushing about to get everything in order. 

“This is nice.” you murmur. 

John’s eyes are on you again, but you don’t notice it. “Yes.” he whispers in response, “Very nice.” When you turn over your shoulder to give him a small smile, he quickly looks at the scene of the wedding again, at the slightly crooked chuppah, and for a second, something flashes inside his mind that he quickly shakes off. The thought is long enough to make his heart soar inside his chest.

When he turns back to you, he notices you’ve already turned back in the direction of Mary Magdalene, and he lets out a shaky breath as he watches you walk off. 

Behind him, Thaddeus smiles at what’s happening in front of him. 

The day carries on. You and Mary help out Jesus’ mother with the final preparations and get to know more about the bride and groom. You find out that the groom is Dinah’s son, Asher, and that the parents of his bride Sarah aren’t as keen on the idea of her marrying a man of lower stature, at least by their standards. You have never understood parents who don’t want their children to marry out of love rather than out of convenience or political gain.

A few hours later, the wedding begins with drinks, food and music. You sit with the other women as you sing blessings over the newly wed couple. The bride and groom are positively glowing and you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to stand there in the finest gown with your hand in… 

…You don’t dare finish that thought. Instead, you concentrate on singing the right words as you hold the shoulders of Mary Magdalene and a woman you don’t know. A large smile spreads over your face as you dance around the tables. 

A little away, John does the same with the men, a little off-key but not too bad, and even though he is thoroughly enjoying himself with the task at hand, he can’t help but let his gaze go over to the other table. He instantly finds you. It isn’t difficult to, for you stand out to him like a bright star in the night sky.

The way your (h/c) hair flows from under your veil as you dance the other women, the way you seem to be so at ease, it all comes together into a beautiful picture that John cannot tear his gaze away from. You look like a dream, with your smile reaching from ear to ear and the way your eyes sparkle, like the moonlight dancing on the Sea of Galilee. He could drown in them, he’s sure of it.

For a moment, John imagines that same thought that had been crossing his mind earlier — the two of you under a similar chuppah, saying your vows to one another. He allows the thought to linger this time, entertains it, almost tripping over his own feet, and as the song draws to a close, he almost forgets the cue to applaud. He is almost jealous of Mary and the other woman for getting to touch your shoulder and hearing you sing up close, even though he thinks it’s silly to feel that way.

The evening carries on with wine, blessings brought by the banquet master, and more music. Even though the food is wonderful, John can’t help but let his eyes drift from time to time. You’re having the time of your life. He can’t shake a nagging feeling inside his chest. The sun sets and the courtyard is illuminated by candles, bringing your features out even more. The former fisherman knows he isn’t supposed to stare, but he can’t help himself, tracing the edge of his empty wine cup with his finger as he sits with a few others at a table.

“She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?” Thaddeus whispers at John, who quickly seems to snap out of his thoughts. 

“What?” 

“You’re staring at her.” 

John lets out a scoff. “I’m not staring at (Y/n).”

Thaddeus chuckles lightly and gives John a look, smirking. “I didn’t mention her name, so you just confirmed it.” 

The younger son of Zebedee swallows hard and looks away, not liking the fact that he is apparently being obvious about it at this point. “Is it that clear, huh?”

Thaddeus hums. “I’m surprised you haven’t walked up to her yet to talk to her.” 

“I… I can’t. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.” 

The former stonemason shrugs. 

“By all means, do what you feel like is best. But I have seen the way you two look at one another.” 

John’s cheeks flush.

“You… She… How does (Y/n) look at me, then?” 

Thaddeus hums and takes a sip of wine. “Can’t you have a little faith in me, John? Just go up to her and talk for a bit. Try to figure out what she thinks about getting married herself some day.” 

John nearly chokes on his own saliva. “Are you trying to say I should ask her to marry me?” 

“Not yet— Just… In general, I mean. There is no rush behind all of this, you know? Just ask what she thinks of becoming a wife, and try to figure out if she hints at her feelings for you.” 

“Her feelings for me?!” John sputters.

Thaddeus hums, grinning a bit. 

“Oh, John. Have some faith, okay? Go talk to her.” 

“Now?” 

Thaddeus nods. 

The younger son of Zebedee stands, wiping his clammy palms down his tunic, and starts walking in your direction, hoping to have some of your time. 

Thaddeus clears his throat, causing him to halt.

“John?” 

He turns and looks at his friend.

“Yes?” 

“I pray that your wedding is the next one we’ll be celebrating.”