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ohbother2 · 2 months

Note

hi i’m helluvapoison!! (also a side blog, so APPARENTLY i can’t send asks with it? rude, tumblr) anyways i wanted to say you’re amazing, phenominal, show stopping. i love your writing so. much.

i humbly request a nsfw lucifer/ reader (however you feel like formatting it) where he tries to cancel date night because reader looks too good, he’s gotta have em then and there. reader takes this and runs, spends the evening riling him up and maybe making him beg for it, if you could? i love sub luci but wanna give you creative freedome as much as possible

ok ok i hope you have a fantastic day buh bye and keep being amazing!

You're making me blush srsly

Also I absolutely loved this idea and couldn't help but immediately start planning a fic around it - I absolutely love how your mind works

This is kinda long, and is part 1 of 2 (sorry), but I personally much prefer the build up and think it needs enough time to really get going (wink wink) to make the pay off worth it

*ahem* not quite smut? It's toeing the line tbh - Minors DNI

Lucifer x f!reader - He Wants to Cancel Date Night

---

It wasn't a particularly significant day that Lucifer had chosen to designate your upcoming date, he had simply picked a random free day in his calendar, asked you if you were free, and then giddily instructed you to doll yourself up nice and be ready for 7pm to go out for dinner. He hadn't told you where you would be heading, but when Lucifer did decide to take you somewhere purposeful for a date, and not just take you for a leisurely stroll and a candle-lit picnic, he always went full-out, so you knew to dress to impress.

It had been a while since your last date night, the two of you often prioritising your time together and trying to organise something at least every two weeks. Due to both of your busy-ness with reconstructing Charlie's new hotel project after the last extermination, and the exhaustion that settled into your bones and muscles after a long day of construction, it had been a month since your last 'official' date.

Yourself and Lucifer had been dating for several years by now, but the early-stage giddiness remained, and you still loved impressing him when you dolled yourself up, and you honestly lived for his reactions when you wore something particularly nice. It had been a while since you had both indulged yourselves as a couple, and tonight, you wholly planned on blowing him away with what you decided to wear, and hopefully a lot more.

You had missed him a lot. Unbeknownst to you, he had missed you much more, and he himself had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready for tonight.

You currently sat at your vanity table, makeup and hair products strewn about its entire surface as you fixed up the finishing touches of your makeup in the large illuminated mirror attached to the desk. Your hair had been styled in an elegant updo, with curled strands of hair framing your face and caressing your rosy cheeks, not a strand out of place after the many hours you had spent perfecting the look. Your whole outfit had been coordinated purposefully, with the intention of wearing a ruby and gold jewellery set Lucifer had gifted you on your first anniversary, a favourite of yours, and a set which never failed to grab his attention. The elegant ruby pendant sat snug against your chest nestled amongst a gold chain, with a pair of ruby and gold earrings dangling from your ears to match. You adorned an equally vibrant ruby dress which cinched tightly at your waist and hugged your bust enticingly, clinging to your hips tightly and its hem digging lightly into your upper thigh. You pucker your rouge lips in the mirror, ensuring an even application as your bright eyes focussed intently, framed with smoky eyeliner and shimmering gold.

You stare at yourself contemplatively, scrutinising your appearance and tugging at a strap of your dress. You had no reason to be nervous, you were already dating the King of Hell, and he took every opportunity to show his devotion to you, but butterflies still swarmed in your stomach as you readied for the date, desperately wanting to impress him. In your eyes, Lucifer was a devastatingly handsome man, with the beauty of an angel despite his fallen status, able to sweep you off your feet with a disarming smile and his silky-smooth voice. He was an amazingly attentive and caring partner, and you could never ask for someone as understanding or perceptive, and god he really did still have the same effect on you, the butterflies only swarming more in your stomach as you thought about the blond man.

Speak of the devil: you jump lightly when you hear a gentle knock at your front door, and you give yourself one final glance in the mirror, a hand carding through a lock of loose hair before you respond.

"One second, Luci!" You call, prepared for him arriving a few minutes early, as he always did, standing from your seat and grabbing a small clutch-purse and a pair of gold heels from beside your bed as you hurry out into the hallway.

You place the items in your hands thoughtlessly on the staircase in the hallway, pausing before the door to straighten your dress, tugging the hem further down your thigh minimally and taking a deep breath before your hand lands on the doorknob. You swing the door open with a little too much enthusiasm, but the staggering smile that greets you has your worries subsiding as Lucifer beams at you, both of his hands rested atop his cane as he waits expectantly.

He had dressed himself incredibly well, a white suit with a burgundy shirt and pin-stripe burgundy waistcoat cinching at his unfairly trim waist, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean physique. He had abandoned his hat for the evening, and you feel your breath leave you at the way he had styled his blond locks away from his face, not a strand out of place and curling around his ears as he smiles oh-so-innocently, the apples of his cheeks rosy and pronounced with the way his grin stretched across his face.

Within his own mind, Lucifer was having an internal battle as his thoughts devolved to a jumbled and rather sinful mess at the sight that greeted him, your bright smile and rouge lips having his heart stammering in his chest as his fists enclose around his cane. You looked positively other-worldly, and the many compliments and greetings he had at the tip of his tongue die in his throat as his gaze flits up and down your body, not all that subtly. The dress left little to the imagination, and his gaze follows the long curve of your legs hotly, the shimmering stockings you wore seemingly accentuating your height. His gaze finally lands on the pendant nestled between your breasts, and a primal heat gathers in the hollow of his stomach when he immediately recognises it as the one he had bought you all those years ago. God, he loved when you wore his gifts, and he's even more ecstatic to see the matching earrings as his red gaze finally returns back to your face, a vision of beauty greeting him, looking far too happy to be in his presence as you smile lovingly.

"Angel, you look positively stunning." He immediately compliments you, bending at the waist and taking a hold of one of your hands in his gentle grasp, pressing a long, purposeful kiss against your knuckles, refusing to breaking eye-contact the entire time. You smile down at him, closing the door behind him as you comment.

"I love your new suit, it's unfair how handsome you are." He practically preens at the compliment, grinning at you as he leans against his cane, trying to make himself look as big and enticing as possible.

"I just need to grab some last minute things, if you wait in the living room I won't be long."

Ah yes, the date, he had nearly forgotten about that. You really did reduce him to a useless, thoughtless, mess. He hums as you walk past, eyes shamefully travelling down your torso as you walk away, not leaving your figure as you bend down to grab your heels and clutch from the staircase. Your dress really did leave little to the imagination, not that he had to imagine. He pulls his gaze away before you turn back around towards him, and he purposefully strides into your living room, pretending that he definitely was not just checking you out shamelessly, and that his throat definitely wasn't growing tighter and dryer with every second.

It had been so long since you both had been able to spend some much needed quality time together, usually spending your days around the habitants of the hotel as you worked, and then just returning home and collapsing into respective heaps after the many hours of labouring away to make Charlie's dream come true. He really was looking forward to this date, and he had been beyond ecstatic to be able to spend so many hours with you, and only you, after so long, but now that the time had finally arrived, he truthfully didn't want to leave these four walls.

Truthfully? He wanted to absolutely ruin the makeup and hairdo you had doubtlessly spent hours on, and he wanted to be out of his brand new suit as quickly as his hands would allow. He tries not to stare too openly when you enter the room, breathing in deeply at the strong smell of your newly sprayed perfume, watching with slitted eyes as you fuss around in a drawer, looking for something he didn't think you needed. He already knew it as soon as you had opened the door and knocked him back on his ass with that dazzling smile; he did not want to go on this date, he wanted you, and hopefully, you felt the same.

"I've missed you so much sweetheart." He practically purrs as he steps behind you, cane left leant against the back of the sofa as his hands land on either of your hips, chest pressed against your spine as he watches your reflection in the mirror hung above the side table. Your gaze flits up to meet his in the mirror, but your hands remain searching as you smile gently at him. You can see the way his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lilac-hued eyelids more visible than before as he stares into your own bright eyes intensely, and you immediately know where his mind had headed.

"I've missed you too, I'm so glad we've finally got a night to ourselves." You mutter, enjoying his warmth pressed along your back, tucking the little comb you had been searching for into your clutch. "You're not being subtle, I know that look."

"What look?" He questions coyly, and you can see his mischievous grin over your shoulder as he props his chin against you. "I'm simply in awe of your beauty." He presses a kiss against the column of your throat, and your head tilts to allow him to press another open-mouthed kiss just beneath your ear. "And can you blame me?"

"Luci," You warn, turning in his grasp. His hands follow your movements, now resting against the small of your back as he grins at you, practically nose to nose. "we have a table booked."

"I'll re-book for another night, it's me, they'll fit us in whenever." He comments, prideful as ever. One of his hands comes up between your bodies to play with the ruby pendant nestled between your breasts, a finger running along the jewel and using the chain to pull you minimally closer.

"I've spent hours getting ready." You practically whisper, you can feel his breath fan across your neck as he studied the pendant.

"And you look absolutely ravishing," He purrs, eyes matching yours once again. "so this is all your fault really." He leans in for a proper kiss, but you turn your head so that his lips land against your cheek.

"You'll get my lipstick all over you for the dinner." You were finding it increasingly hard to tell him no, especially with the way his gaze heated across your face, sultry eyes enticing you invitingly.

"I don't mind." He hums, and you feel his grip tighten against your waist. "In fact, I think I'd love to be covered in your lipstick."

"What happened to the gentleman who was at my front door not only five minutes ago?"

"I am a gentleman!" He defends, smile quickly delving into something devilishly cheeky as he comments. "I'd return the favour, put your lipstick on me, darling, and there won't be an inch of you left uncovered."

You laugh to dispel the tension in your chest at the image, and how sinfully enticing that notion was. At the same time, Lucifer begins to laugh, commenting how 'gentlemanly' that action would be.

"You, are terrible." You push him away gently, and he follows your hands with a childish frown he doesn't even bother to conceal.

"If I ask nicely enough can we stay?" He leans back against the back of the sofa, puffing out his chest in the way he knew you loved. "I'm not a Saint, I don't think I can make it through a meal with you looking like this."

"Like what?" You ask deftly, enjoying toying with him as you begin fastening your heels.

"Like I could just eat you up." You immediately know what he's insinuating, and the point is only proven more with the way he cups his chin with his hand as he watches you, fingers placed purposefully either side of his lips. Anyone else wouldn't pick up on the concealed gesture, but you know him better, and you narrow your eyes at how hard he was chipping away at your resolve.

You had half a mind to just say yes, hike your dress up and have some fun right in the middle of your living room. But no, you had been looking forward to this meal for weeks, and you rather enjoyed the idea of toying with him throughout the meal - really, if he didn't want you to tease him all afternoon, he shouldn't have come across so desperate so quickly. You'd get your revenge for all this teasing, you definitely would, and it made it even better that you knew the thought wouldn't even be crossing his mind yet.

He grins to himself as he watches you closely, an idea forming in his head. "Let me help with your heels, at least."

"No." You comment quickly, beginning to tie the second golden heel.

"Wha- why?" He questions, sounding offended.

"Because I know you, and before I know it you'll be under my dress and we won't make it to our dinner."

"I can indulge in a little starter, I bet you're much more delicious-"

"Luci, you are-" Your words cut off at the shit-eating grin he adorned, clearly enjoying riling you up. "making this incredibly difficult."

"Is it working?" He all but sings, wiggling his brows as you step towards him, now a little taller than him with your heels fastened. He was having far too much fun at your expense, and you couldn't allow that. He looks up at you with a ridiculously fond smile, which only grows when your hands smooth the lapels of his blazer.

"Maybe." You hum, and you avoid his lips once again by pressing a single long kiss underneath the crook of his jaw, your left hand cradling the back of his neck to keep him in place. He sighs out a moan, relaxing back into the sofa and hands clenching against the fabric behind him, believing that his persuasions had finally won you over.

"Really?" He asks as you pull away from his throat, still tantalisingly close. Your eyes don't linger too long, but the bright red lipstick stain has you fighting away a grin at the achievement. And to think, he was none the wiser. He sounded so hopeful, and you nearly back out of your plan. But no, you were looking forward to this meal, and you were looking forward to making him suffer for the next few hours even more.

"No, now come on, we're late."

"What?" His voice immediately loses all of its confidence, a shattered whisper as he watched you with despondent eyes. You could see the way he deflated as you pull further away from him, beginning to head towards the door. His hands were still gripping the back of your sofa, but this time to keep him propped up at the devastating news. "Darling, that's evil. We can't leave now!"

"Patience, baby." You reprimand, and he pouts playfully to hide the disappointment in his chest. "Good things come to those who wait."

"Good things could be happening right now." He tries to reason, voice low as he tries to encourage you to change your mind. He was still propped against the sofa, and you hesitated at the doorway to the hallway, looking back at him with a torn look. You had made up your mind, however, and he wouldn't win so easily.

"Are you coming? Or am I attending our date alone?"

"Fine." He groans, picking up his cane and twirling it in his hands to try and distract himself as he follows after you, pausing in front of the mirror to check his appearance. He had spent a long time on himself, after all, and next to you he needed to look every bit the charming devil. He doesn't really intend to pay too much attention to himself, but the pronounced cherry-red lipstick stain pressed under the crook of his jaw in the unmistakeable form of your lips has him nearly snapping his cane in half as soon as he spots it.

"Sweetheart!" He calls immediately, voice an octave higher than it had been a moment before. You grin to yourself as you shrug on your sheer shawl, knowing he had seen your little gift. His head pokes around the doorway, and you can see how his eyes have widened to the size of saucer-plates as he hurries towards you, knuckles of his left hand white against his cane as he reaches for you. "You can't do that and then drag me to dinner." A hand reaches for you, but you're already opening the door with a laugh. "We're staying."

His hand misses you as you step outside, and he pauses at the front entrance, glowering down at you with a tight jaw and furrowed brows. He tries one final pathetic attempt. "I feel ill."

"You're a bad liar." You laugh, holding a hand out, waiting to take his arm expectantly, and you can see how he works his jaw as he realises he really had to go to this meal. "We've got all night to ourselves, you'll survive for a few more hours."

"I don't think I will with such a pretty thing on my arm." He mutters more to himself, but you still feel heat creeping to your cheeks at the compliment. Your resolve wins over, however, and Lucifer locks your door and pockets the key before offering out his arm, beginning to lead you towards an awaiting taxi. Oh, tonight would be fun, and the best part was, Lucifer had no idea how much fun you were about to have.

---

The drive to the restaurant had gone smoothly, and Lucifer had guided you to an incredibly elegant restaurant, far outside what you would attend by yourself, nestled deep within the centre of the Pride Ring where those with wealth and status liked to play and mingle. Lucifer had practically glowed with pride when you had openly gasped in the restaurant's foyer, and had kept his hand on the small of your back the entire journey to your table; a booth directly next to the inside balcony that looked over the lower two floors of the restaurant, with a great crystal chandelier hanging parallel.

Now, you both sat at opposite sides of the table with a menu each, a bottle of some expensive-sounding wine placed in the centre of the table and your glasses filled. Lucifer was happily chatting away, meanwhile you had been storming your mind to begin enacting your revenge.

"-I don't know why he's so stubborn about it! He's literally the embodiment of lust, how embarrassing can confessing feelings be after, after doing that." Lucifer pulls a face as he sets down his menu, wafting his hands about as he continues. "It's ridiculous! And after the way he treated me when I was panicking about asking to court you! That man is the biggest hypocrite in all of Hell, and I should know."

"He's probably just embarrassed, Luci." You hum, still looking over your own menu. "Sure he's the embodiment of lust, but being sexually attracted and emotionally involved are two completely different things."

"They've been sleeping together for years by now, surely someone must have let something slip during all those times. He's told me about everything they've done, despite me not even wanting to know, and they've done some, some absolutely-" He hesitates, searching for the correct word. "'questionable' things. I mean, you can't do all that and remain," A pause. "indifferent."

"Physical attraction is a lot more removed, I think." You comment, resting your menu against the table and looking over at him. "It's a lot easier to just be interested rather than involved, you're putting your heart on the line not just your pride. Like, as an example, we slept together way before we ever said 'I love you'."

"But I-" The blond's face pinches slightly, as if remembering something embarrassing. "I knew I loved you before we even got together, so that doesn't count."

"You didn't tell me though, that's the difference." You smile softly at him, heart swelling at the little confession. His sweetness really was making you rethink your plan for the evening, but then you remembered the way he had prepositioned you to skip starters altogether in the taxi in favour of something else, and your sympathy quickly dies. "If Ozzy actually says the words, Fizz could say no-"

"He won't, that man's even more obsessed than Ozzy." Lucifer slumps a little in his chair, looking at you hopelessly, as if you had all the answers to his dear friends' worries. "I don't know how much more of his pining I can take, I might have to confess for him at this rate."

Throughout the entire conversation, you had been slowly shimmying yourself lower in the booth you sat on, which was incredibly hard with the way the skirt of your dress tugged against the soft velvet fabric beneath you, trying not to accidentally flash yourself as you worked. Now that you were low enough down, but still looked as if you were sitting upright, you slowly reach your right leg out, uncrossing your legs to give yourself some extra reach. You nod along to Lucifer's lamenting, smiling distractedly as you search for his legs underneath the table with your own.

Finally, the tip of your heel brushes against a soft fabric, and your smile brightens for seemingly no reason as your foot hovers near Lucifer's ankle, tapping against it gently, once, twice. If he notices he doesn't indicate it, carrying on with his complaining, now having moved onto Fizz and away from Asmodeus. Your foot rests gently against his calf, pressing minimally into the light white fabric as you respond to him.

"And how long did it take you to confess to me, hm?" Your head tilts as you smily cheekily, and Lucifer pouts when he realises exactly what you were about to say. "If it's longer than whatever they've got going on, I think you deserve to be his confidante. I'm sure you put him through it yourself."

"I-" He sighs, unhappy with the reality. "But it's- it's so painful watching them! I think it pains me more because it's Asmodeus. If anyone in hell has the courage to do something like that, it's him."

Your foot inches higher, slowly, and you're now midway up his calf. He's still too enraptured in his own friends love life to realise.

"He's the embodiment of lust, not love. This is as far out of his comfort zone as anyone else."

Your foot continues to inch higher, and as Lucifer thinks with a slightly downturned lip, you heel presses inward towards his knee.

"I'd argue they go hand in hand! I don't see how-" He suddenly stops talking, eyes honing in on you and lip falling into a firm line. "What are you doing?" You continue to smile mindlessly, watching as he stares at you contemplatively, hands fiddling with his menu as he becomes startlingly aware of exactly how high your foot had managed to inch.

"Whatever do you mean?" You tilt your head innocently, foot inching upward again and resting on the inside of his calf, just below his knee. "Has the wine gotten to you already?"

You jest with a jovial smile, but Lucifer is staring at you as if he had just managed to crack the Rosetta Stone, skin paling under the warm glow of the candlelight, and mouth falling open slightly. Realisation of what this night would be hits him like a tidal wave, and he stares hopelessly as he finally understands your eagerness to come to the meal. His eyes were large and lightly panicked, and that panic only increases when your foot shifts higher, pressing into the side of his knee playfully.

"Y/N, sweetie, you can't be serious-" He sounded like a man who had just figured out he had been sentenced to deaths row, and he certainly looked as if he had just received the news. ''you- you told me later."

"I'm not doing anything!" You grin devilishly with your chin rested atop your interwoven hands, and in that moment Lucifer knew he was in for a world of trouble. He stares at you tensely, silently pleading with you to let him enjoy the meal in somewhat peace. It was hard enough looking at you, nevermind with your foot inching higher and higher and beginning to press pleasantly against the lowest part of his inner thigh. "So, do you think Fizz will confess first?"

"I think coming to this restaurant was a mistake."

"I'm really enjoying my time." You chirp around a laugh, grinning as he shifts in his seat, your foot beginning to rub against his inner thigh slowly, up and down, each caress inching higher and higher. "Relax. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself once the food arrives."

"I think I should've locked the door behind me when I arrived and kept you in the living room." He laments to himself, and you have to hide the way the comment has heat rushing up your neck. No, you were playing with him tonight, not the other way around. To prove a point, your foot presses harsher into his thigh, and you watch as he glances at his lap before settling his sight back on you.

"It really is a beautiful restaurant, and you booked a wonderful table, so secluded. Very romantic."

"I think you're enjoying this too much."

"Oh, I am."

The smile you send him has him nearly standing from the table, grabbing your hand and dragging you from the restaurant and into the nearest alleyway. It was a look that promised so much more than he had planned for this meal, and the fact that it was aimed at him had him sweating under his collar and regretting his teasing earlier in the night. He really was at your mercy, and he knew that you were aware of that, and that you had no intention of making this meal easy on him. He glowers at you from across the table, more upset with himself than you: he should've begged harder at your doorstep.

The waitress takes that moment to return with a smile and a writing pad, asking about starters and entrees and how you both were finding the wine. Lucifer goes to open his mouth to cancel the afternoon but you are two steps ahead, as always, ordering your meals with a sickeningly sweet smile and then redirecting your attention back to him, who now has to order food he doesn't even want for the sake of saving his image.

"-and I was wondering about the bourguignon, is it possible-" He nearly smashes his knee against the top of the table when you press the toe of your heel to the highest point of his inner thigh, grazing dangerously against his bulge and tugging his trouser material taut. He splutters for a moment, making a show of clearing his throat to hide his absolute shock, and clears his throat as he attempts to smile at the concerned waitress. "Ah, sorry, I'm a little under the weather but we've had this meal planned- anyway, could I please have that w-without-" His voice audibly warbles when you rock your foot slightly, pressing directly into the side of his bulge and continuing to watch the interaction with a grin. He has to clear his throat again. "without mushrooms please."

You continue to toe against his bulge as the waitress recites your orders back to you both, his hands clenching against the edge of the table as he attempts to nod along to whatever the waitress was saying. His hips attempt to shift away from your agonising touch, but you only stretch your leg further, pressing harsher and continuing to rock at that agonisingly slow pace.

"Excellent, thank you." He maintains his unsteady smile until the waitress is long gone, and then he's staring at you and breathing a little harshly as your foot continues to rub against him.

"Darling-"

"You look stressed, baby. Is something wrong?"

"Is this why you wanted to come to this meal? Just to toy with me?" He sounded like a woman scandalised, and something in his jaw twitches when you drag your foot back to the curve of his knee, before caressing as far in as you could reach.

"Depends, is it working?" You parrot back at him from earlier, and he takes a deep breath as he realises this was entirely his own fault.

"Of course it is."

"I thought you wanted to indulge yourself before our starters? Relax, indulge yourself."

"This-" His voice cracks again when you completely leave his thigh and toe directly against the centre of his problem, rocking up and down instead of side to side. His shoulders tense as his legs instinctively part at the contact, knees spreading slightly despite the agonised look he adorned. "isn't what I had in mind."

"Huh, this is exactly what I had in mind."

"Think about this," His breathing had become slightly harsher, and his hips twitched when your heel tugged the material of his trousers a little too tight, a dull pleasure slowly spreading that he was desperately trying to ignore. You laugh loudly at the desperate way he had already begun to plead, and to think, your starters hadn't even arrived yet. His voice drops as he whispers at you. "you want me walking out of here with ruined trousers? Because keep this up and keep looking at me that way and that's what's going to happen."

"I've barely done anything Luci." You shake your head feigning disappointment, foot stopping its ministrations and just resting right against his centre. "But don't worry, it wouldn't be much of a punishment if I did."

"Punishment?" He whispers bewildered, leaning forward in his seat and across the table to emphasise his disbelief.

"You're too pretty to throw yourself at me before our meal and expect me to just get over it." You tut, grin widening as he continues to gawp. The rosy hue of the apple of his cheeks had darkened considerably after the compliment. Oh, this was too easy. "If I have to spend the rest of this night in," You pause, leaning forward and dropping your voice to whisper seductively. "ruined underwear," A pathetic little sound catches in his throat, and you grin wickedly as his hips twitch against you. "I think it's only fair I have some fun."

"We could've stayed, I could've taken care of you." He really did have the sweetest way of wording things. In reality, he was envisioning you pinned beneath him on the sofa as his tongue and fingers set to work, and he was growing increasingly infuriated that he wasn't doing just that right now.

"You've not even let me kiss you yet." He begins, a hand reaching out to caress yours across the table, and you tilt your head playfully when you feel his breath fan across your face. "Isn't that punishment enough?"

"And you won't if you don't start behaving." The way your voice had taken on an authoritative tone has heat climbing up the nape of his neck, and his fist clenches tighter against the fabric draped across the table. "How can you expect me to behave when there's such a handsome man pleading with me? You're the gentleman, you should woo me until a much more acceptable time in the evening. This is a date, after all, where's the gentleman who asked me to come here?"

"You killed him when he saw you wearing that sinful outfit."

"Pity, because he won't see what's underneath until he returns." Lucifer can feel himself twitch within his trousers and it takes a great degree of self control to stop a whine from leaving his dry throat. You really had no idea just how you were effecting him, and he tugs at the collar of his shirt to try and get some air to the nape of his neck, he was surely going to combust soon.

You couldn't leave it there, and your fingers caress his own outstretched hand as you release the killing blow. "Understand?"

"God," He groans around a shuddering breath, pupils dilating as he shifts back in his seat. His trousers were growing increasingly uncomfortable, and the heavy weight of your foot against him made him startlingly aware of how little control he actually had. "yes."

"Good." You grin, completely unfazed by the entire conversation. Lucifer, however, had taken on a rather sickly complexion, with his cheeks and neck startlingly red against his pale pallor. You immediately steer the conversation in another direction when you notice the waitress heading towards your table with your starters, and the blond's despondent look as you begin chattering about something else has your ego inflating and satisfaction brewing in your chest. You were right, this was going to be a fun night.

---

You had let up with your teasing throughout the starters and the wait for the entrees, and Lucifer had returned to a far healthier appearance than before. He hadn't fully recovered, however, with his own imagination running off and assaulting his mind with downright sinful images as he tried to focus on his food and converse with you. Currently, he was rather lost in a fantasy of ducking under the table, pushing your underwear to the side, and actually eating something he craved, and not relenting until you had finished every scrap of food on your plate. He had had to shrug off his blazer, which now lay neatly folded next to him, and his burgundy shirt sleeves had rolled up to expose his forearms and try and get some cool air to his heated skin.

Yes, you had relented with your teasing, but you had given his mind all that he needed to have him thoroughly wrecked for the rest of the evening. He was doing a poor job of controlling his thoughts, and truthfully he didn't want to.

"Mmm." You hum, bringing the first forkful of your meal to your lips and humming as the flavour reached your tongue. "This is amazing, I don't think I've ever tasted anything better."

He watches with heavy eyes as you bring another forkful to your mouth, and his chest raises when you make direct eye contact with him as you moan again, a quiet little sound that no one else in the bustling restaurant would hear, but that he could pick up on like a gunshot through a forrest. He watches as you do the same again, and his forked tongue comes out to lick across his lips as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, gnawing on it as he thinks about the sounds he could entice from you if you just let him. This time, you hum slightly louder, making a show of playfully rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you close them, savouring the flavour on your tongue. Lucifer has to spread his legs under the table to make room for the half-hard bulge he'd been fostering that was now beginning to grow again. He loved you, but you were a cruel woman.

"Not hungry, Luci?" Your question was innocent enough, but all he could envision was throwing the plates to the side and dragging you on top of the table to have his way with you. Reputation be damned, he would do so if you gave him the nod.

"Positively starving." His voice was uncharacteristically low, not even sparing his food a glance. He hadn't even picked up his cutlery yet.

"Your meal looks great, I'm kind of jealous. If we ever come again I think I'd order that."

He wasn't paying attention to a thing you said, instead watching as your hands wrapped unusually around the top of your wine glass - a fancy looking tall slender intricately designed glass that emphasised the restaurant's heightened status - taking a negligent sip, and then placing it back down onto the table. You didn't place it down normally, however, and you watch Lucifer closely as your hand remains clenched around the glass, stroking all the way down to its base before tapping a polished nail against it. You can see the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and you twist your wrist and hand around its base before letting it go.

"Everything okay, baby? If there's something wrong we can send it back."

"You," He takes a deep breath to compose himself, his nails digging into his palms as your foot resumes its gentle caresses against his inner thigh in some semblance of a comforting notion. "are something else, sweetheart."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"And I think you're going to kill me before I can ever ask for the bill."

"I'd hope not, I've been looking forward to dessert all day." You purr, foot once again resting in between his legs. His eyes nearly roll at the contact, and his fists clench tightly around the cutlery he had just picked up as his mind absolutely runs with the possibilities after your meal. "Something sweet, I think. Apple crumble, maybe?" His gaze snaps from the piece of meat he had just skewered with his fork to your dark gaze, the gold framing your eyes glinting enticingly and churning his stomach. "I think I'd rather just have the apple, really."

His hips involuntarily jolt towards the pressure of your heel against him, and the food he had brought halfway to his mouth is thoroughly forgotten as you grin at him from across the table, taking another sip of your wine.

"I-" He stammers, scrambling for the suave flirtatious version of the King of Hell as he tries to muster a response. "that can definitely be arranged, darling."

You smile as he finally begins eating his meal, seemingly intent on finishing it as quickly as possible, but that upturn of your rouge lips turns dangerous when you decide he was rushing this meal far too fast. This was an expensive restaurant with some of the finest foods in hell: he should savour it.

"Ah!" You yelp in surprise, your knife 'falling' from the table and clattering against the floor. "Sorry- you distracted me." You lie not that convincingly, but Lucifer is too distracted in his own mind and too prideful that his stumbling attempt at flirtation has you so flustered to question your behaviour.

You smile at him innocently as you lean down, commenting loudly about how you couldn't see the knife as you lower yourself completely from your seat onto your knees and under the table. You wait a moment, spotting the knife immediately and crawling over it as you reach for Lucifer's legs, your cheeks hurting with the size of the grin that stretched across your face. Both of your hands come to rest on both of his ankles, gripping them firmly as he jolts, pinning them apart as you hear his cutlery clatter from above you.

The darkness under the table is suddenly illuminated as he tugs the table cloth up, a pair of wide bright yellow eyes immediately gazing down at you as your fingers slowly travel up his shins.

"Darling, what are you doing?" He all but hisses, but his voice is high pitched and airy and resembles more of a desperate whine than a genuine question.

"Shh." Your hands rest on either or his knees, and you push them further apart as he gapes down at you. "Continue eating, I won't be long."

"No, no." He stammers, but his legs fall open easily. You can see his eyes jerk back up to survey the little entrance to your secluded booth, terrified of being caught. "Please, don't. I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." You encourage, hands resting heavily on his inner thighs, feeling the heat of his legs from beneath the thin material. "All you have to do is sit pretty and be quiet. I've got the rest."

"I can't." And as if to prove his own point, a choked wet sound catches in his throat when you prop your cheek against his knee.

"You're right," You contemplate, and he breathes a sigh of relief that quickly withers in his throat when he sees that you have no intention of coming out from under the table. "you have to keep talking or someone might get suspicious. Tell me a story."

His mouth falls open in disbelief, but you tug the table cloth from his hands and push it up against his lap to fully hide what you were about to do. He stares doubtfully at the white tablecloth that hid you from view, fists clenching atop the table as he swiftly regrets ever trying to convince you to stay at your home.

"Sweetheart, please-"

"I'm not leaving until you tell me a story, so you better make it a quick one." He doesn't move for a moment, and neither do you, but your nails dig into his thighs when you hear him pick his cutlery back up with a tense sigh.

"I don't- God, I can't think with you-" He mutters quietly, voice hitching when your palms slide up, fingertips caressing his prominent bulge straining against the white cotton of his trousers. You press a kiss to his inner thigh, careful not to leave a lipstick stain behind, and you grin when he moans and spreads his legs, hips pushing closer to your searing touch.

"The hotel? I saw you arguing with Alastor earlier." You offer helpfully, a palm resting flat against the outline of his dick and fingers curling around him horrifyingly lightly. You twist your wrist slowly, featherlight touches caressing through the white fabric as your other hand snakes lower, cupping his balls and squeezing.

Another choking sound, and you can feel the way he sucks a deep breath into his lungs.

"Y-yes. He was being his usually horrid self-" You press a kiss against the tip of his bulge, and this time a whine heaves from his throat that he silences by biting into his fist, face twisting in pain as he breathes deeply. He pushes his hips towards you, and your hands grab either of his hips and pin him in place as your brows furrow disapprovingly.

"That's not very gentlemanly of you." You tut, and you know he hears you when a choked whimper reaches your ears. Above you, he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, blond locks beginning to unravel from their neatly combed style as he steadily loses his composure that he had been clutching to all evening. You rest heavily against his thighs and hips, hands clenched into his belt loops and preventing him from shifting as you gather saliva on your tongue.

"Uh- He was moaning about some- some furnishing-" His voice cracks when you lean forward, licking a defined line straight across his length. He can't feel the wetness, but he knows exactly what you did.

"Honey, please-" He had stopped trying to barter with you altogether, plainly begging in that small voice you loved, breath hitching around every word.

"You've not finished your story."

"Ngh-" He groans to himself, panting and staring at his half eaten plate. It is then he realised your plate was completely empty, you didn't even need the goddamn knife. His shoulders and neck are impossibly tense, and his jaw aches with the way he clenches his teeth to stop any more sounds from spilling past his lips as one of your hands leaves his belt to cup his balls once again. "I-I don't want to talk about him while you're doing that."

You giggle to yourself from under the table. He loved the sound, but it was the furthest thing from innocent he had ever heard. "And who else would you rather talk about?"

"I don't." He practically whines, trying to lower his voice back to some degree of normality. "I want you. Please can we leave."

"Oh, no no." You shake your head with a laugh. "You think you've been good enough? You've been nothing less than a mess all evening, not gentlemanly at all."

Suddenly, his hands are gripping your wrists and yanking you from his beltloops, and you're about to tell him off before you hear another woman's voice chattering above you. You sigh to yourself, collecting the knife and beginning to crawl back into your own seat.

You sit back up with a gentle smile, fluffing your hair as the waitress glances at you, a perplexed smile on her face. "Sorry, I dropped my knife. I'm so clumsy it's terrible, isn't that right dear?"

Your gaze finally lands on Lucifer, and your chest expands in pride at how disheveled he looked. The familiar flaming heat had once again licked up his neck and cheeks, both of which were a startling red as he sucked deep breaths into his lungs. His shirt had become slightly wrinkled from the way that he had gripped at his tie, and some of his blond locks had fallen from their neat style. He was still an utter vision of sophistication and charm, but the frays at the edges were beginning to simmer inwards.

"Oh, honey," You feign surprise, but Lucifer's jaw works when he sees the utter lack of sympathy in your eyes. "maybe you really weren't lying earlier, you don't look well."

"I'm fine." He all but grits out, voice having lost some of that chipper charm it usually carried, a muscle in his jaw tense. "I was just saying how lovely the food has been and how I think we're done."

"Ah, yes. It really has been amazing." You smile at the waitress, who had begun clearing the plates away and piling them into her arms. Your gaze shifts back to Lucifer, and his brows furrow lightly in confusion at the sickly sweet smile you sent his way. "We were actually hoping to try some of your desserts? I think we decided on the apple crumble and the cherry roulade, right dear?"

If he hadn't been such a composed man, Lucifer may have started crying then and there. He felt as though the world had been tugged from under him and that he was falling into a baseless abyss, and the little composure that he had been clawing to his chest nearly tore in two as he realised he couldn't say no without looking like an absolutely terrible date. He stares at you with disbelief for a moment, brows raising as he tries to muster the courage to agree with you.

"Uh, yes. If you wouldn't mind that'd be great." He hands the waitress a side-dish, eyes looking incredibly watery all of a sudden. "Thank you."

With a nod and a comment about the time you'd both have to wait for the dessert, the waitress takes her leave, leaving yourself and Lucifer in deathly silence.

Lucifer was staring at you as if you'd just torn his heart from his chest and stomped on it right in front of him, with large wet eyes watching your hopelessly as you continued to sip from your glass of wine, smiling over at him with your rouge lips. For a moment, it looked as though he had stopped breathing altogether, but then his tongue wets his lips and he opens his mouth, a small sad dejected voice coming out.

"When you were talking about dessert-"

"Yes, the apple crumble, I can't wait to try it!" You chirp happily, and it takes all of your restraint not to laugh openly at the way his eyes fall down to his lap despondently. "What happened to your hand?"

His lips purse as he flexes his right hand atop the table, the unmistakeable mark of teeth red and glinting in the candlelight. You can see two prominent fang marks across his knuckle and thumb as you lean across the table, tiny droplets of blood having crusted along their surface. How you wished you could've seen him do that, you cross your legs tightly at the images conjured in your head. Truth be told, your own teasing was getting to you as well. From the looks of it though, Lucifer was crumbling much faster.

His desperate gaze lands on you. You knew what had happened to his hand.

You laugh, a hand coming up to cover your mouth when he doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry." He leans forward as he talks, and your eyes alight with something indistinguishable as he tries to appeal to your better nature. "You have no idea how sorry I am for earlier. I'll do anything- please can we take our desserts home? Sweetheart, please."

Your head tilts, faux confusion flashing across your gaze. "I appreciate the apology Luci, but I don't know what you're apologising for. I'm just carrying on what you started."

"I can't sit here for another moment." His voice had taken on that whiny pitch you loved, and your tongue wets your lips as both of his hands grasp one of your across the table. "Please can we go home."

"Of course," You hum, and he perks up in his seat before you begin talking again. "as soon as we've finished. I've been looking forward to this dessert all month. You've made it this long, one more course won't hurt."

His throat tightens painfully as he continues to grip your hand in his own grasp. The aching in his trousers was becoming unbearable, and to have you deny him after toying with him so openly gave him a sort of whiplash that had him nearly shoving his own hand down his trousers to just give himself some sort of release. He had been wanting since the moment he first saw you that night, and he was so close and yet so far from actually having you.

"Look, dessert's here now. Won't be long."

You both pull away as the waitress approaches, settling the two desserts in the centre of the table.

You immediately tug the apple crumble towards you with a grin, and Lucifer watches with the little self-restraint he had crumpling into an ashen heap as you immediately spoon a hefty helping of apple into your mouth, humming as you swallow. He doesn't even try to hide his thoughts anymore, eyes watching the column of your throat as you swallow, hands weekly pulling his own dessert unhappily towards himself.

"This really is an amazing restaurant Luci." You comment, leaning across the table and watching as he begins his own dessert, your own spoon dancing from your fingertips. "I'm so glad you brought me. In fact, I think this is my favourite date we're ever been on."

He hums at you, eyes squinting playfully as you continue to tease him.

"And you look so good, I can't lie you nearly won me over before we left my house, but I'm so glad I convinced you to come out. I've loved every minute."

You were being downright cruel, and the compliments went straight to the flaming heat in his boxers as he shifts uncomfortably, trying to give himself that tiny bit of friction he desperately craved. He tries to remain composed, despite his flaming cheeks and the sweat that beaded along his back and chest, resting his head on his left hand, munching slowly on the chocolate and cherry dessert. It really was an amazing restaurant, but he hardly remembered any of the food he had eaten, his thoughts and senses completely enraptured by you the entire evening.

"I would love to try your dessert though, it looks like you've ordered the better thing every course." He glances from his plate to you, confused at what you were insinuating. The last time you had spoken about dessert, he had been sorely mistaken, and so he sits, too apprehensive to really do anything for fear or disappointing himself.

You place your spoon down, leaning across the table and pushing your chest out tantalisingly, pearly white teeth visible as you smirk, a hand reaching forward and fingers curling around his collar. His eyes flicker between your sultry gaze and your heaving chest, and yet he remains rigid in his seat, absolutely terrified of raising his hopes.

"Darling-?" He questions softly as you tug him closer, following your hands with ease as your breath fans across his lips.

"Just a small taste."

And then your lips are on his and he openly groans into your mouth as you finally give him what he wants. His hands leave the table ledge to cradle your jaw, pulling you in closer as his lilac-hued eyelids close, tilting your head to give him better access as his brows furrow. Your tongue darts across his lips, and he invites you in willingly, another moan catching in his throat as you hungrily lick into his mouth, his tongue battling with yours as one of your hands clenches into the hair at the nape of his neck. You pull away all too soon, and he collapses back into his seat a red, panting, mess, lips glossy, gazing at you with disbelieving amber eyes, utterly and completely smitten. He watches you pick your own spoon back up from its place on the table.

"The cherry's nice, but I do think I prefer the apple."

As soon as you finish the last spoonful, Lucifer is calling the waitress over and requesting the bill, practically vibrating in his seat as you watch him leisurely. This had been one of your favourite dates, and you didn't intend on letting this be the end of your fun.

---

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houserautha · 17 days

Text

These Destined Ends

Part 7

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: depictions of killing/death, a blood oath, oral sex f receiving, fingering, edging, dirty talk, p in v, no protection, breeding/pregnancy kink, creampie kind of

A/N: I hear wedding bells🎉 This took me a hot second to write up and edit, but it's also a little bit longer than I usually post. I hope you enjoy💕

Sleep evades you. The day of your wedding slips in uninvited, a wash of sunlight to chase away the shadows from your room. The bed is empty. Feyd-Rautha hasn’t returned or, at least, hasn’t visited you since.

You convince yourself that you don’t care.

But still your thoughts stray traitorously to him — where he is, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking and if it’s of you.

You stare out at the Grand Arena. It’s more or less attached to the Harkonnen fortress and, to your understanding, typically reserved for political rallies. It’s the only place large enough to host a wedding where the entire planet is invited, though, plus the added benefits of its close proximity.

A platform has been erected and already citizens are filing into their stadium-style seats despite the early hour. They will wait all day to sit front row at the marriage between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. A historic event, you realize with detached clarity. To be remembered for generations to come.

This does nothing to quell your roiling stomach.

You turn at the sound of your bedroom doors opening, hope lifting stupidly in your chest. Because it is not Feyd-Rautha who enters, but Lady Jessica.

She looks more radiant than ever, though you suspect this partially has to do with the time apart that you’ve spent.

“Mother?”

Perhaps your lack of rest has warped your vision.

Jessica smiles softly, confirming both your deepest fear and most shameful want. “Daughter.”

For the first time in your life, you run to her. She embraces you, cradling your face into her neck. She smells like home and the memory of Caladan has you blinking back tears. “Why are you here?”

“Did you really think we would miss your wedding?” Jessica brushes your hair back. “They are treating you well? You haven’t responded to any of our correspondences.”

“They are treating me well,” you tell her. You can’t help but think of Feyd-Rautha’s lips on your skin, between your legs, but quickly dismiss it. “And I haven’t received any correspondences.”

“Mm, as I suspected. Your father thought that you might be too busy to write but I knew better.”

“He’s here, too?”

“Of course.” Your mother presses something cold and metallic into your palm, curls your fingers around it. “I wanted to give you this.”

You frown. After closer inspection, you realize that it’s a necklace. Simple, elegant, with a thin silver chain and delicate pendant. “What is this?”

“I wore it when I first met your father. Although we are not married, our relationship has obviously grown past that of an arranged partnership. I can only hope you find similar happiness.” She pauses then, examining you. “I know you are aware that your birth was…orchestrated. But that does not change our love for you. You are our greatest treasure, Y/N.”

Your mood falters, slipping from between your fingers and shattering on the ground like glass. “This is a fertility necklace.”

“Yes,” Jessica says, dipping her chin.

You have the overwhelming sense to grind the necklace under your heel. The tears in your eyes now belong there for an entirely different reason.

“I thought you came here today to support me but instead you’re just carrying out your Bene Gesserit schemes,” you hiss. A dry laugh rattles in your throat. “I’m such a fool! You don’t care for me. You only care about what I can provide. My whole life, everything has been for them. Everything.”

Jessica’s jaw clenches. “That’s not true.”

Aggravated, you spin on her, teeth bared. “Then tell me you came here today of your volition.”

Jessica holds your gaze but does not reply.

“I knew it,” you all but snarl at her.

“I thought these past few months would’ve opened your eyes to your potential, the importance of your duty,” Jessica snarls back, matching your viciousness. “But still you are blind to the truth. You blatantly refuse to accept a plan that has been in effect for centuries. Ten thousand years of deliberate planning and you act as if you are here as punishment. You are living proof of the Bene Gesserit’s power, Y/N.”

Chest heaving, you shutter your raging emotions. “Leave me.”

“That’s no way to speak to your mother.”

“I speak to you not as a daughter,” you retort, “but as the na-Baroness of House Harkonnen. And seeing that you are nothing but a concubine to the Duke, I demand that you leave.”

You know that with The Voice, Jessica could force you to bend to her will, to do any inexplicable amount of things. But she does not. She stands there, wavering, before striding back from which she came from without another word.

You hide the fertility necklace in the pot of a synthetic plant, and no one is the wiser when they come to prepare you. For the servants this is a joyous occasion and you do not want to dampen their enthusiasm. You mask your growing unease, laughing and joking with the girls as they recreate you into the image of na-Baroness.

“You look stunning,” Asha tells you privately. There’s quite some time before the ceremony starts, and she’s pulled you into a quiet corner of the room. “The na-Baron isn’t going to know what to do with himself.”

Oh, you very much doubt that. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your wedding dress is a subtle combination of both Atreides and Harkonnen culture, a blend of elegance and functionality.

The dress itself is made from a lightweight, flexible material that mimics the look of metallic plates. Featuring overlapping panels that creates a segmented, scale-like effect, the bodice gives the illusion of Harkonnen armor. But the skirt, full and flowing, is entirely Atreides — layers of fabric cascading to the floor. Small, metallic accents line the hem that shimmer with your every step.

And, completing the look, a headpiece that forms a sort of M over your forehead and down your cheeks, adorn with jewels.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Have you seen him today? The na-Baron.”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“No reason.”

Asha’s mouth quirks teasingly. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” you say, too quickly, “well, yes. But not because of him, because of the ceremony. This will be my first time in front of Giedi Prime.”

“They will adore you,” Asha says. She waves a hand flippantly. “And if not, then your husband will have their heads.”

You grin. “I suppose that’s comforting.”

“Of course it is.” She squeezes your hand.

Your moment with Asha passes as you’re both pulled back into the revelries — spice-laden champagne, food that looks suspiciously like harvested organs, and the pounding, ear-splitting music that’s popular among the Harkonnens. By the time you’re called for the ceremony, your mood has lifted significantly, almost enough to make you forget that you’re the reason for celebration. It’s a sobering reminder.

Your heart threatens to burst from your chest. From inside the walls of the fortress, the roar of the crowd crests and falls like a tidal wave sent to sweep you away. The corridor is alive with mumbled conversation. A procession will precede you to the altar — noblemen and the likes, your parents, who you avoid — along with your betrothed, who is nowhere in sight. The gathered members of your bridal party shift and part, panic seizing you with white-knuckled fingers as the Baron maneuvers toward you.

He greets you with a saying repeated to you many times that day, one that after several iterations you’ve come to understand means, “May your death be swift in battle”.

How it relates to marriage, you are too nervous to inquire about.

“What a wonderful day,” he muses in a rasping lilt. “It would be a pity for someone to ruin it.”

“Indeed,” you reply, eyes narrowing.

“You understand the importance of the ceremony, don’t you?” You don’t respond, sensing that he will tell you nevertheless. “This is just one more step for Feyd-Rautha toward taking my place as Baron. How the ceremony goes will influence his standing with his people.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was just another political move. What did he think you would do, riot in the middle of the ceremony? You retort, “I understand.”

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

The chill that brushes down your spine, seeping into your bones, is deterred by the sudden clash of a gong. War drums erupt in tumultuous exalt. The very sound of them resonates deep within you, invoking a primal response of adrenaline, as if your body is preparing you for battle.

Which, you suppose is fitting.

And who else to be summoned by the promise of war then Feyd-Rautha.

He enters the room as he always does, commanding the attention of everyone in it. The effect is only amplified today, though, in his polished ceremonial armor and resolute intensity, a heady combination of brutality and valiancy.

Gazing at him us purifying fire, searing you from the inside out, and you take your time charting the unholy beauty of his face, gazing back at you with terrifying reverence.

In that moment, you possess no past or future — there is only him. An eternal now.

And then he steps past you and into the black sun, exultant, thrusting the knife above his head.

A championing cheer follows, impossibly louder than the thunder of the drums. Feyd-Rautha lingers and something in your chest expands at the sight of him dwelling in their approval, their admiration, somehow transcendent of any humanity he manages to have.

He truly is a god.

From your secretive position, you peer at him as he strides down the aisle to the platform where the officiant is waiting for him. At the top of the stairs, he turns and faces his people. In an act that surprises you, everyone who isn’t already on their feet rises, and in sync pound their fists to their chests. One two three.

Their utter devotion to him is staggering.

Feyd-Rautha raises his chin, simultaneously moved and expectant of this. He then takes his place at the altar.

Which means it’s your turn.

You loathe having to follow such a devastating display of power and love. There’s no telling how Giedi Prime will react to you, after all, considering that you are technically the enemy. Asha’s words come to you, emboldening you, and you lift your gaze. You will not falter.

A shushed quiet falls over the arena as you stride out, then enormous applause. You can only imagine what you look like to them, your people, but the only one who matters looks upon you with such unwavering devoutness that it nearly brings you to your knees. As you climb the steps to the altar, Feyd-Rautha’s hands clench into fists, a gesture you interpret as a sign of restraint.

Oh, if only he could touch you with those hands.

The officiant, a representative of the Imperium, begins to recite the traditional Harkonnen wedding script. A translator repeats the words to you, but you let the harsh language wash over you as you focus instead on the row of guests at the base of the altar. Your parents — looking fiercely protective, Leto smiling somewhat reluctantly; Jessica maintaining her cool demeanor — the Baron, emotionless, and beside him Rabban.

Did he wish it was him on the stage?

He catches you staring and flashes you a sickening smile. You look pointedly away, a fist forming in your stomach.

The beginning of the ceremony is tediously long and drenched in tradition, most of which you don’t understand even with the translator’s help. Marriage is not generally a romantic affair for Harkonnens, and the proof can be found in their strangely clinical rites. Again it’s impressed upon you that you are preparing for battle, one in which you would reside besides the most fearsome of its participants.

A pause on the officiant’s part draws you back to the present. You know what comes next, and the thought repulses you — Harkonnens of the Imperial House do not get married with the weight of enemies on their shoulders, pursuing a clean slate of sorts. You watch as a row of prisoners are led before the altar, hooded and bound and forced to their knees by a Harkonnen guard. You shiver despite the insurmountable heat.

You are familiar with war, with combat, the knife-thin edge upon which each fight balances. Life or death. But you can hardly stomach the idea of executing a helpless opponent, even if they are an enemy of your House.

Your throat thickens as Feyd-Rautha is bestowed a ceremonial blade.

Each hood of the prisoner is removed except for one, a man at the end who wavers to stay upright. Feyd-Rautha ignores this man, starting at the opposite end. His grin is apparent as he slashes through the throats of the prisoners, the blade his brush and the bodies his canvas, painting them both with ink-colored blood.

When Feyd-Rautha makes it to the still-hooded man, he pauses, shoulders heaving with the exertion of his wicked precision. Rivulets of blood stream down his armor. He says something unintelligible to the man, then removes his hood.

Your blood runs cold as you recognize him.

Ze’ev.

Now that you know who it is, you inspect him closer. There’s hardly any traces of the man you briefly knew. He is emaciated, bones lining his scarred flesh, clearly beaten within an inch of his life. After your encounter with Feyd-Rautha, you know that Harkonnens heal quickly, and the scars on his body indicate to you that he had been torn open again and again.

Feyd-Rautha turns. When he approaches you, his face is full of such naked adoration that it causes you to take a step back. He offers you the bloodied blade.

“For you,” he rasps.

You whisper fiercely, “What are you doing?”

“He is a gift, for you. On the day of our wedding.”

Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to refuse him. But to do so would be to decline your husband, shame him in front of his people — bile rises in your throat as you accept the blade, your fingers wrapping around the handle.

You breeze past him, refusing to meet his eye.

Ze’ev trembles as you advance on him. Though from his delicate condition or fear, you can’t be sure. His lips form a sneer. “You won’t do it.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you say dryly. “I thought you were dead.”

“I should be. Your husband certainly brought me to the brink of it and back, telling me that he was saving me. For you.” Ze’ev spits at your feet then, a dark and bloody glob.

On Arrakis, this would’ve been a sign of respect.

But this wasn’t Arrakis.

You raise your arm in an upward swing, then across your body with exuberance, his blood hissing as it splatters the ground. Splatters you.

The crowd applauds your demonstration, and the sound of their approval echoes in your ears as you take the stage once more, the prisoners’ bodies carted away quickly. You feel numb. Bewildered.

But also deliciously righteous.

You face the man who put you in this position, who put the blade in your hand as a gift without considering the consequences. And he smiles because he knows — he knows that you are delighted, that the freckles of drying blood elicit an indisputable, terrifying delirium in you.

He coaxed this from you, what was better left in the dark.

And you don’t know if you should thank him.

The officiant switches to the common tongue. “The time has come to bind these lives together in the sight of their people. As na-Baron and na-Baroness, they pledge their loyalty and protection to one another, their flesh and blood now shared in duty and alliance.”

A second blade is brought out on a satin cushion.

“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baroness Y/N, to uphold her honor and safeguard her well-being, as your duty demands?”

“I swear.”

“na-Baroness Y/N, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, to uphold his honor and safeguard his well-being, as your duty demands?”

You dip your chin. “I swear.”

“Then, as symbol of your shared duty and alliance, I ask you to exchange your blood.”

Feyd-Rautha takes the blade and, with surprising gentleness, turns your palm over and kisses it before gliding the tip of the blade over it. Your blood wells, bright red.

You take his own hand — large, scarred and calloused — and repeat the action.

Before he can heal, the officiant wraps a white cloth around your now joined hands, red blood mingling with black.

“You are my body, an extension of myself,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

You tense. This isn’t part of the ceremony.

Feyd-Rautha, one hand still clasped in yours, uses the other to beat his chest. One two three. You watch as the crowd responds in kind: the same gesture, reverberating throughout Giedi Prime.

It’s incredibly intoxicating, to be the focus of such a powerful gesture. You let it wash over your skin and infiltrate your bloodstream, alter something inside you, rearranging your very cells into what it takes to be a fearless ruler. You would do anything to garner such a response again.

The officiant waits until the last thump can be heard before he declares, “May your bond be as unbreakable as the strongest fortress. United by duty and alliance, I present to you — the na-Baron and na-Baroness!”

Having spent so much time dreading the ceremony, you never stopped to think about what would happen after it. Currently you sit atop the dais in the throne room, accepting an endless line of Harkonnens who want to congratulate you on your feat of an arranged marriage. Your palm that the blade cut stings with every hand you shake.

After what seems like a small eternity, it’s time for you to join the nobles at the reception. Memories of the last time you sat at the table trickle in through your exhaustion — which you promptly shove away.

The feast passes in a blur. You don’t have the appetite for any of it, but hopefully do a convincing job of moving your food around on your plate.

And then: it’s time for your first dance.

Reluctantly you let Feyd-Rautha sweep you into the center of the room, the usual security you feel in his presence succumbing to your own fears. He holds you tight against him. His tone is clipped, political, plush lips on the shell of your ear, “You had never killed before.”

Ah, your first words as husband and wife.

“No I had never killed before,” you snap at him. “Not everyone goes around just slaughtering whoever they feel like.”

Feyd-Rautha is a surprisingly agile dancer, though you figure that it isn’t all that removed from fighting. “I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“Perhaps, but you did.” Your throat thickens. “What I did is irreversible.”

“You told me you wanted him to pay for what he did.”

“I-I did. I just didn’t think —”

“If you let someone who crosses you live, then others will try,” Feyd-Rautha says, incensed. “You must strangle the serpent while it’s a hatchling, for once it grows, it will seek you out while you lay in your bed and slip around your neck.”

You can’t suppress your shudder. What a lovely metaphor. Apparently Giedi Prime has loads of fun phrases alluding to death.

“You could’ve told me,” you mutter in lieu of a response.

“It was a gift.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. Was that all it was? Another part of your game?

“Most people give jewelry as gifts,” you retort.

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “I am not most people.”

“I know.” To prove your point, you coast your fingers over his side where the dagger went in.

He pulls you tighter against him. “I would have you right here in front of everyone if you’d let me.”

You can’t help but smirk. “I know.”

He opens his mouth to continue but he’s interrupted — by Rabban, nonetheless. “na-Baron, I request a dance with my sister in-law.”

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on you tightens. “No.”

“Yes,” you say, loosening his fingers from around your waist. “It won’t be long.”

Feyd-Rautha stares after you unhappily as his brother leads you away. Other couples have now taken to the floor in an elaborate dance that you don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, seeing that Rabban just drags you after him for each step.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he says finally.

“You suppose?”

“If it was up to me, Feyd-Rautha would be the one extending his congratulations.” Rabban’s small, dark eyes examine you. “Though the Bene Gesserits have chosen well for a Harkonnen bride. You are a formidable force.”

“Thank you,” you reply, sensing more.

“There are…things…in order that will happen because you will not submit to me,” Rabban says.

Your jaw sets. “Like what?”

“You’ve made your choice.” There’s a twinge of pity in his voice. Not for him. For you? “I thought I should forewarn you.”

“Rabban, what are you talking about? You never said anything about —”

“The day of the Crucible. I told you my wishes and you denied me them.”

“You said nothing that would warrant a warning. I thought you just envious of your brother for obtaining something else that you can’t have.”

“Envious? No. More deserving? Perhaps.”

Behind Rabban, a soldier materializes from the crowd. Sardaukar. You stiffen — it hadn’t come to your attention that anyone from the Imperium had attended your wedding.

“Excuse my interruption,” the soldier says. “I wanted to congratulate you on your union on behalf of the Emperor. He extends his deepest apologies that he isn’t t able to be here himself.”

You nod curtly.

The soldier’s gaze slides to Rabban. “May I have a word with you?”

Begrudgingly, Rabban releases you with a final look. You watch his retreating form, mind reeling with confusion. What did the Sardaukar want with Rabban? And why did the soldier look so familiar to you? Idly, you wonder if the violent nature of the Sardaukar soldiers remind you of the Harkonnens.

No, that isn’t it. That soldier had been here before, at the dinner a few weeks before. He had been the one to call the Baron away, you recall. But he had been dressed as a Harkonnen soldier then, not a soldier of the Imperial army.

The revelation creeps over you uneasily.

Before you can give it much thought, however, someone whisks you away into the next dance. A protest forms on your tongue before you realize it’s Asha — cheeks pink and beaming at you.

“Asha!” You can’t help but laugh, partly out of relief. “I thought you were another terrible admirer.”

“I am an admirer,” she says, “though I would hardly consider myself terrible.”

“Terrible for taking so long to get to me.”

“My apologies, but the na-Baroness is in high demand.” You settle into a comfortable rhythm as the music plays and Asha leads you in the unfamiliar dance. After some time, she grows uncharacteristically serious. “I know your feelings for the na-Baron are…complicated…but your ceremony was beautiful.”

You raise a brow. “Really?”

“The way he saluted you…” Asha trails off, waving her hand as if to ward off tears. This reaction spurns your curiosity.

Trying not to sound too interested, you ask, “What does it even mean?”

A slightly dreamy expression crosses Asha’s face. “Generally it’s reserved for military generals as a sign of respect, something that soldiers do to show their loyalty.”

“So when he did it to me…?”

“He was signaling that he sees you as someone superior to himself, someone to respect. That he is your willing soldier.” Asha grins. “Everyone has been talking about it.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can think to say. “Should I have done it back?”

Asha shakes her head. “Definitely not. It would’ve been an insult to him. His judgement. You did the right thing.”

You’re not sure what the right thing was, but you let the subject go. It lingers in your mind, however, to the point that you over-analyze the moment during the ceremony, replaying Feyd-Rautha’s expression as he saluted you.

You want to confront him about it, but apparently your first dance is all you will see of your new husband on the eve of your wedding. Even trying to catch his eye is impossible as you are both continuously pulled in different directions.

“Is this a bad time?”

At first you bristle, afraid that you’ve been caught sneaking away from the festivities. You have no idea of the time but it has to be well into the morning now, and you just wanted a moment to collect your thoughts. The spot you’ve chosen in a darken alcove gave you a perfect vantage point of Feyd-Rautha, infuriatingly charming as he speaks to a pair of nobles out of earshot.

You tear your gaze from him.

“Father!” You run into the arms of Leto, Duke of Arrakis, who ambles down the hall to you. It’s reflective of your greeting with Jessica this morning, but he inspires only warmth and fond memories. The brush of his beard across your cheek fills you with longing. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“I apologize for not going this morning to visit you. Your mother insisted she go alone.” A frown tugs on his handsome features but disappears as quick as it appeared. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you sigh. It’s as if you are a child again, the light of your father’s attention basking you in a sunny glow.

“I…” Leto pauses, deliberates. Your father is usually not someone to be lost for words. “I wish I had done something to prevent this.”

You touch his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“I blame myself, it’s true. What kind of father willingly hands his daughter over to that…monster?”

“You had no choice. Neither of us did.”

“Listen, Y/N, your mother regrets how your conversation went this morning. She has only wanted the best for you,” he adds softly.

His words prick at you, and suddenly the warmth of his light diminishes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Her intentions can be…muddled by her Bene Gesserit training. But that doesn’t change the love she feels for you.”

“Her love.” You chuckle bitterly. “All that she loves is what others can do to forward the Bene Gesserit agenda. You. Me. Don’t you realize?”

Leto’s expression softens. “Just come with me. She’s waiting for us. She wants to try again.”

Anger seizes you with white-knuckles and stifling heat, blooming in your chest. “I’ve given her too many opportunities to make things right. You just told me that you wish you could’ve prevented this. She could’ve prevented this. I do not wish to speak another word to someone who has orchestrated my entire life since conception.”

Perhaps you can blame the time that you’ve spent apart, the exhaustive events the day has presented you, but there is a side to Leto that you have forgotten — his frightening, unwavering loyalty to Jessica. A loyalty that not even you, his daughter, can temper.

His voice is that of a diplomat, detached and commanding as he says, “You will not speak of your mother in such a way.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but jumping to the defense of your mother cuts you deeper than any knife can. You swallow your disappointment.

“You’re fooled by her just like everyone else.”

Leto’s mouth tightens into an angry slash. “You are not the daughter I remember.”

“No.” You tilt your chin. “She is gone.”

“Then I have no business with you.”

Your tongue rolls in your cheek, over your teeth, carefully selecting your next words. “So be it. I won’t inconvenience you with my company.”

You can’t stand to witness his expression, or let him see the grimace of pain that graces yours, so you turn from him before either happens. You go, not back towards the party, but away — you can’t be here any longer. It feels as if your bones are trying to flee from your skeleton, your skin suddenly stretched too tightly.

Truthfully you have no destination in mind but your feet carry you to the one place that you know will guarantee silence.

Feyd-Rautha’s strategy room.

In the dark your fingers find the seam of the door and you ease it open, slinking inside. For the first time since this morning, you’re alone, and there’s no auditory assault of voices or music.

Back against the wall, you slide down to the ground and pull your knees to your chest. You will tears to your eyes but there are none to summon, lost to the icy numbness claiming you. Any other feeling is cast adrift.

Could it have only been three months ago that you were on Arrakis, sparring with Gurney?

You no longer recognize yourself.

The closest identifying factor is when the door open and Feyd-Rautha appears. There’s a resemblance there, a call of darkness in him that something within you answers. Your mouth twists in distaste. How did he find you?

“Go away.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t care. This is my strategy room, and I can come and go as I please.” Cast in shadows, you can barely make out his face, but the scorch of his gaze is telling of his scrutiny. “Get up off the floor.”

“No.”

“Get up or I’ll make you.”

You weigh his words. Then you reluctantly rise to your feet, unable to look at him.

“This…attitude is unbecoming of you.”

“You’re a prick,” you fire back.

“A na-Baroness, brooding alone — and on the floor, nonetheless, like a common stray. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”

“Or what?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I will have to remind you who you are.”

Heat flickers in your belly, a weak flame. “And what is that? A whore, a womb? I am nothing but what others have made me to be.”

Feyd-Rautha laughs.

He actually laughs.

The sound of which is so unnatural, so unnerving, that your muscles tense like they’re anticipating a fight. You flush with shame — anger — and raise your hand to strike him but Feyd-Rautha catches your wrist. His words lilt with ill-timed amusement.

“Surely you don’t believe that.”

You struggle to wrest yourself from his grasp, but the effort is futile. “Let go of me.”

“No. Never.”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips crash into yours. He steers your back to the wall, colliding with your spine. He swallows your cry of pain with his mouth, slanting it over yours, hands bracketing either side of your face. His fingers delve into your hair, pads of his thumbs pressing against your cheeks. The weak flame inside you ignites into a raging inferno.

He kisses you with a fierce, concentrated energy, as if his sole purpose is to bruise your mouth with his own. His tongue flickers across your bottom lip, behind your teeth. You moan at the same time Feyd-Rautha chooses to coast his hands down your sides and your head lolls back, neck bared.

He grabs onto you as his mouth flies to your exposed throat, hands greedily clutching at your waist. Feyd-Rautha presses a series of kisses that turn swiftly into nibbles, bites. He sucks and licks at your neck, no doubt creating a necklace of love marks, eagerly staking his claim on the sensitive skin. Each bite and lick winds you closer and closer to an orgasm, the idea of his lips marking you wickedly delightful.

Feyd-Rautha moves his hands to your ass, to the underside of your thighs, and hikes you up. Without thinking, you lock your legs around him. The action brings his hardened length nudging against your center and you whimper, grinding into him, desperate for friction.

“I want you so fucking bad,” you pant. “Please.”

He hums against your neck. “What did you say you were — a whore?” His hips roll with yours, the memory of him inside you inciting a moan from your lips. “The na-Baron doesn’t bother fucking whores.”

“Please,” you say again.

In response, Feyd-Rautha bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You wince even as pleasure floods over you. “Beg all you want but I won’t fuck a whore.”

You fail to conjure a response as he pins you to the wall with his hips, your arms thrown around his neck, and effectively loosens his hands in order to hoist your dress up. Your flesh pimples as it’s exposed to the cool air of the strategy room.

Feyd-Rautha’s hands skim over you, brush over your center. You whimper, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me who you are,” he rasps.

Feyd-Rautha teases your clit through your panties, drawing lazy circles with his fingers. You buck your hips in an effort to gain reprieve but he denies you this.

Your voice pitches nearly into a whine. “I-I don’t know.”

And you don’t — not after the sequence of your day, not with Feyd-Rautha unraveling you with his his hands and his mouth. You are infinitesimal, insignificant, clay waiting to be shaped in his capable touch.

“Then I will remind you,” Feyd-Rautha says. He pushes your panties to the side, ghosting his digits over your entrance so that you writhe in desperation. “You are my wife, the na-Baroness of the House Harkonnen. You will raze cities to the ground and bring men to their knees. I will fuck you often and fill you with my seed, keep you pregnant so that you bear my children. You are not nothing, you are magnificent.”

His words are punctuated by his short, breathy pants, fingers pressing to your cunt without giving you any of the pleasure that you seek.

“Now — tell me who you are.”

“I-I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife.”

A wail looses from you as Feyd-Rautha plunges his fingers inside you, relieved from your aching by his careful ministrations. Each pump of his hand brings his palm to your sex, quick and authoritative. A hand that had killed six men today, saluted you, bled with you, and the severity of the situation has your walls clenching around him — he is Feyd-Rautha, and he is fucking you with his fingers, littering your body with bites and kisses and mumbled, appreciative praises.

It’s not surprising that this drives you to orgasm with record speed, to alleviating the pressure building between your legs —

Feyd-Rautha removes his fingers, depriving you of your release. You almost howl in frustration.

“Close,” he says. “But I’m not convinced.”

“No, please —”

“You can cum once you’ve convinced me that you remember who you are. Until then — your pleasure will be withheld.”

Again, he punishes you with his fingers, splitting you open as he inserts them. Your back bows.

“Now,” he pants, “tell. Me. Again.”

“I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife,” you repeat, mustering as much conviction as you can. You would tell him anything if it meant cumming on his fingers.

Harder, faster, wrist snapping: “And?”

“And…I am magnificent.”

Feyd-Rautha’s satisfaction is evident even in the dark, judging only by the pulse of his fingers, the breathy laugh fanning into your neck. He removes his fingers again, though, to your chagrin, trading positions for one that allows him to see your face. “Oh, you are,” he purrs. “And I bet you taste even better.”

You hitch your legs around his shoulders at his prompting. Feyd-Rautha sinking to his knees while applying enough weight to keep you trapped against the wall. You suppress another whimper. Your thighs are nearly flush with your chest as Feyd-Rautha dips his head to greet your cunt, driving you higher up the wall and forcing you to grab onto his armor for support.

You can’t see him with the skirt of your dress in the way, but you feel his mouth hovering your entrance.

Feyd-Rautha presses a kiss to you. He flicks his tongue over your clit, then licks a stripe up your center back to it, lapping eagerly between your thighs. His mouth works in tandem with his tongue, his teeth, treating you to the same nipping and sucking that he administered to your neck. Your hips buck to meet his every stroke.

And then, there it is again, your orgasm fighting for completion, raking claws of molten lava through your belly, your pelvis.

From between your legs, Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Convince me and I’ll let you cum.”

You swallow down a cry of protest. If you don’t get your release, you might actually implode. You do your best to summon his words from before, “I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife. And I am magnificent.”

“And how will I fuck you?”

Your teeth grind as you recall, “Often.”

“Why?”

“To-To keep me pregnant,” you stammer out. You rarely allow yourself to imagine your body in such a state, afraid of what it will invoke, but you do now: belly swollen with Feyd-Rautha’s child, breasts full, a physical manifestation of the vigorous fucking he regularly bestows.

And just like that, like the snapping of a rubberband, he returns his mouth to your cunt and laps at you until you finally, finally, reach your orgasm. Feyd-Rautha holds you steady as the prolonged release cleaves you in half, shuddering against his mouth, your vision swimming with stars. Tears wet your cheeks with your relief.

You sag into him, and he effortlessly lifts you back to your feet, still trapping you to the wall, one hand lazily skimming your hip.

“Do not, ever again, think so lowly of yourself. Do you understand?”

Your head bobbles stupidly. “I understand.”

“Good.” He brushes hair back from your face, runs his finger along the scattering of angry welts he’s left on your neck. “Now, my jewel, how do you want me to fuck you?”

You commit him to memory, this renegade angel, a contrast of darkness and your own personal deliverance. “I’ll let you choose.”

Without missing a beat, Feyd-Rautha carries you to the strategy table and lays you flat on your back, maneuvering to grab your ankles, one in each hand and spreading you wide. He takes his straining cock from his pants and strokes it as he admires you. “Mm, my beautiful wife, so eager for me to fuck her.”

He traces your entrance with his fingers, then notches his cock there, sliding the tip of it between your slick folds. You ache to take him but with your ankles in his grip, he keeps you firmly in place. Like a silly, wanton thing, you try desperately to grind against him as he drags himself, up and down, teasing you.

“Please, Feyd,” you beg, “please fuck me.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Feyd. Please.”

The ridges and crests of the strategy table bite into your back as he drives into you. The ecstasy of finally having him inside you is almost too much to bear — hips snapping, groans rumbling through his chest. He is inspired like this, immersed in the feel of your walls clamping down on his cock, pupils blown, plush lips parted with each panting breath.

If you only you could bottle up this moment, savor the way you both rise to meet the other like waves upon the shores of Caladan.

He pounds into you in a borderline frenzy, each near-violent thrust surging your orgasm higher.

Then Feyd-Rautha releases your ankles, your legs returning around his waist, and he captures your wrists instead, holding them over your head. The angle allows him to press himself to you, spearing you deeper, winding your desire tighter and tighter.

“My wife,” he rasps, “my jewel. Look at me.”

You meet his gaze. Feyd-Rautha smirks, pleased with himself, with you, and thrusts into you with swift finality. Your orgasm peaks and suddenly you’re shuddering and convulsing beneath him, pleasure wrought from every fiber of your being.

Distantly, you feel your cunt draw out Feyd-Rautha’s own orgasm, hips rolling against you as he spills himself inside you. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting, greedily drinking in lungfuls of air. Ostensibly, he recovers first and peels himself from you, tucking his cock back into his pants.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him breathlessly, thighs quivering as you stand, the wrinkled skirt of your dress cascading back to the ground.

“I suppose no one will question whether or not we’ve consummated our marriage,” he says.

Your cheeks burn. “Does it matter?”

“It’s typical for someone to watch to confirm,” he tells you, lifting a shoulder. “I said that it would be obvious enough.”

You gasp and swat his chest. “You didn’t.”

“The alternative was some noble peeking in on our fucking. Would you have preferred that? I do know you like to watch.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t,” you admit.

“Precisely.”

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes flicker over your face, and you can only guess what he sees there — you’re coated in a thin sheen of sweat and, undoubtedly, love marks, hair tangled and headpiece askew.

You shy away from him. “Do we have to go back to the reception?”

“No,” he nearly snorts, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. “I fully intend on taking you to my bed and fucking you until you’re a mewling, quivering mess.”

Your cunt, still full with his cum, dripping with it down your thighs, clenches in anticipation.

“Then what are we still doing here?”

Part 8

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aothotties · 7 months

Text

Your Boyfriends A B*tch

Who would’ve thought that crying over your shitty boyfriend would turn into you crying because of your best friend's dick.

Pairing: BestFriend!Eren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, name calling, pet names, implied oral (f. receving), multiple orgasms, choking, Eren gets mean, cheating (kinda but not really), different positions, creampie, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1.4K

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Who would’ve guessed you’d be spending your Friday night in tears, well Eren kind of did.

He almost expected this to happen, your boyfriend pisses you off, y’all break up, you call eren to comfort you, you get back with your boyfriend and the cycle repeats itself.

So it was no shock to Eren when your contact flashes on his screen, he doesn’t hesitate to text you back instantly.

He chuckles and shakes his head at the situation and gets himself ready before he heads out.

“I knew that would happen again.” He says to himself, locking the door to his apartment.

Now it’s not like he doesn’t want to come over, one of his favorite things to do is be around you, it would just be nice if it wasn’t because of your stupid boyfriend.

He doesn’t even deserve the title, but Eren isn’t one to interfere with his friends' love lives. He wouldn’t want someone in his business so why would he be in theirs. You know in a way he should thank your boyfriend for being such a fuck up. If it weren’t for him he wouldn’t have you bent over and cumming on his dick for like the third time.

Eren’s intentions were never to fuck you like this, so vulnerable and desperate for love and attention. How can he pass up such a beautiful opportunity when your pussy is sucking him in so nicely.

Maybe he can fuck you hard enough and make you forget about that dumb bitches name and you can see that he’s the one for you instead.

“That’s it my pretty baby, go on and come again for me.” He says in your ear as he pounds into your dripping cunt.

“E-eren, we shouldn’t b-be doing this!” You manage to say, fingers gripping the sheets tightly as his thrust pick up

“Oh now we shouldn’t be doing this? You’re so sweet but so stupid.” He says through gritted teeth, pulling you up so your back is against his chest.

You moan in pleasure at the new angle and gasp as he wraps one his large hands around your throat, gently biting down on your ear.

“You think your punk ass boyfriend took your feelings into consideration, hmm?” He asks, slowly trailing his free hand down your tummy to your puffy clit.

You let out a whine in response when his fingers rub slow circles on your clit and he squeezes your throat tighter, slowing down the speed of his hips.

“Eren!” You beg, trying to push back onto him and end up on your back.

“I asked you a question, did I not?” He asks, pushing your legs up to your chest, rubbing his angry red tip on your clit, biting his lip as the head of his dick teases your soaking hole.

��N-no, he didn’t take my feelings into consideration.” You say quietly

He flashes you a pretty smile and pushes himself inside your dripping cunt all at once. He instantly starts drilling his hips against yours without letting up.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he reaches deep inside of you, deeper than your ex ever could. You look uo and almost come at the sight in front of you.

Eren’s holding your legs up to your chest, pumping his dick inside of you quickly. His long brown hair tied up in a bun that moves with each thrust, pretty green eyes shut tightly as he gets close to cumming.

Those soft pink lips are still slightly wet from your first orgasm of the night. You love the way his abs flex each time he fucks into you, but the thing you love the absolute most is his pretty gold necklace.

He’s worn it ever since you’ve known him, a gold chain with an Aries pendant. You love it and you always have, and you really love the way the pendant dangles over your face and chest.

“E-eren” You look up at him with a desperate look in your eyes as you feel yourself getting close to the edge.

“Awe is the stupid girl gonna come? Are you gonna come all over this dick princess?” He teasingly asks, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your clit.

You nod your head and let out a squeal when he wraps a hand around your throat and leans down so his face is inches from yours.

“You don't know how to answer a question? You’re so fucking rude.” He rubs his thumb in quicker circles and smirks when you begin babbling.

On the outside Eren seems cool and collected, when in reality he’s losing hs shit. He’s really fucking the love of his life, finally getting the luxury to know what you look like when you come undone.

“R-ren, coming!” You exclaim, your cunt tightening around his dick as your orgasm takes over your body.

Your back arches and your toes curl from the intensity of your orgasm, your mouth falls open into the shape of an ‘o’ and Eren presses his lips to yours as you let out a mantra of moans.

Eren slows his hips down and pulls out of you slowly, pressing his forehead against your own. You rub his cheek with your thumb and pout as his dick twitches.

“You didn’t get to come.” You whisper, your voice becoming hoarse from all the moaning and shouting.

“I’m okay, as long as you feel good that’s what matters.” He smiles and rubs your cheek with his thumb, but that doesn’t satisfy you.

You push him onto his back and he raises an eyebrow in confusion. You give him a smile and grab the base of his dick, you slide down on him and he hisses in response.

“Fuck baby, you’re going to be the absolute death of me.” He bites his lip and his hands find their way to your hips.

He guides you back and forth on him at a slow pace, loving the way you feel around him. He throws his head back when your sensitive cunt tightens around his dick. You bend down and connect your lips together in a passionate kiss, you place your hand on his shoulders and bounce faster.

“Fuck! Y-your pussy feels so good baby!” He lets out a loud groan and squeezes your hips in his hands

“L-love the way y-you feel eren!” You hide your face in his neck and roll your hips

He thrust up into you and began pistoning his hips as he felt his orgasm approaching.

“B-baby I’m close, n-need to fill you up.” He says as his thrust gets sloppier.

“Fill me up Ren, come deep inside of me baby. Please give it to me, I-I want you to fill me up.” You hold his face and kiss him hard, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth.

He looks into your eyes and loses it, he holds you against him and ruts into you. thick ropes of his warm come fill you up. You both let out moans and whimpers as you come together. His head falls back onto the pillow and he looks up at you with a weak smile.

“I’m sorry I called you stupid. I didn’t mean any of it.” He mumbles, tracing over the shape of your lips.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. You’re not wrong though, I keep taking him back and getting my heart broken.”

“You deserve so much better, I’m not saying it’s me, but I’m definitely saying it's me.” You two share a laugh and he rubs small circles on your back.

“Well considering the fact I just got out of a messy relationship, I’m gonna wait before I date again.” You run your fingers through his brown locks and he rests his cheek against the palm of your hand.

“As long as I’m the only one who gets to see that fine ass in all of its glory and nobody else is coming inside of you I’ll take it.

“Deal.” You giggle and press your lips against his once more before you cuddle up next to him and drift off into a deep slumber.

Bonus: Eren gets an ego boost the next day when your ex shows up. He’s dressed up, holding a bouquet of flowers and your favorite candy, smile dropping as a shirtless and marked up Eren answers the door.

“I-Is y/n here?” Your ex nervously asks and eren nods his head.

“Yeah she’s here. We had a long night last night though so I’m not sure when she’ll wake up. I’ll let her know you stopped by. Bye now!” Eren begins closing the door.

“Can I just tell her-” Your ex tries to peek into the apartment to see if you’re in there.

“Bye now!” Eren closes and locks the door, rolling his eyes once the doors close.

“What a bitch.”

-Ari

#aot smut #aot #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot x y/n #eren x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader

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that-basic-simp · 1 month

Text

Girl With The Wave Tattoo

Mizu X Fem!Reader CW: None WC: 1.5k+

"Hottie alert," my friend tapped me on the back of my arm.

My back was facing the customers as they were coming and going. I was doing my work while my friend was looking at the customers. I should be more specific. The attractive customers.

"If it's another athlete with the typical body, I am not turning around."

"No, it's your kind of hottie."

"If this is another prank I swear I am going to--" I immediately shut up as I was face to face with someone who was indeed my kind of hottie.

They were tall, tall for a woman. Or at least they appeared to be a woman. It was kind of hard to tell as they were wearing cargo joggers with high-top Converse and a white tank top. There was a long chain necklace with the sword as a pendant. Finally, to top off their appearance, they had orange tinted glasses covering their eyes and a bun on the top of their head. Running up both of their arms was a sleeve tattoo of what looked to be water in the traditional Japanese art style. Similar to that of the Great Wave.

"W-What can I get for you today?" I asked.

"What kind of tea do you have?" they asked, in a bit of a raspy voice.

"We have all kinds ranging from green, black, oolong. You name it, we probably have it."

"Do you by chance have any hot matcha green tea?"

"W-We do."

"Can I get that in a large?"

"Yes. Name for the order?"

"Mizu."

"Alright. That'll be about 500 yen."

Mizu handed me a small coin and I took it from them.

"It should be out soon."

"Thanks," they walked towards the counter and waited for me to make the drink.

"So, what do you think?" my friend leaned over and asked me, whispering in my ear.

"I don't know about this one."

"What do you mean?"

"Their appearance. I can't tell if they're, you know."

"Nondescript?"

"In a sense. The bun isn't helping, but their eyes," I turned to face them.

They were reading something on their phone. As I looked closely, which is an odd feature to stare at, their fingers were thin and slender to be a man's. I mean, depending on the man, they can be long and slender. But they looked oddly feminine for someone who is trying to be neither gender. Or maybe one more so than the other. It's hard to tell. But it didn't matter. They were attractive.

"Did you at least get their name?"

"Mizu," I whispered, not wanting to confuse them with thinking their order was ready.

"Interesting name."

"I think so. Unique."

I finished making the tea for Mizu and I set it on the counter.

"Mizu?" I called out their name.

Their head picked up and they walked over to me, grabbing the cup.

"Thanks," they said, placing a couple pieces of yen in the tip jar.

"Have a nice day."

They smiled before turning around, walking off towards the door. The chime of the bell rang as the door opened.

"Is this the first time you've seen them?"

"Here?"

"Yeah."

"I've seen them in this area. I think they work at a tattoo parlor just down the road."

"Huh, interesting."

"Thinking about giving them a visit?"

"Maybe not like instantly. I think I'll give it a bit and see if they come around again."

"If you want to know that answer, talk to Ise. She hears and sees everything that goes on here."

"She doesn't come in until three, doesn't she?"

"Yes, but if text her and say you need details on one customer, she'll be here in a flash."

"I kind of don't want to because I'd rather talk to her when she's scheduled to be here."

"Suit yourself. Oh, Mr. Watari is here again. Be careful."

"I'm heading into the pantry then."

"To do what?"

"Hide from him."

After waiting a few hours, Ise came in and that was when my friend dropped the bomb on her and she came rushing over to me, excited and happy as a clam. If she was a dog, her tail would be wagging so fast she could fly off into the clouds.

"I heard you want to know something about someone."

"Mizu. I was told they work at a tattoo parlor."

"Mizu is a woman. When she's out in public or when she's in the tattoo place, she binds her chest."

"Why's that?"

"Bad history with another work place where they would only hire her if she was more masculine."

"That's backwards."

"It was."

"Is there anything else you know about her?"

"Other than she can rock two arm sleeve tattoos and make it look attractive, no. That's really it."

"Alright," I sighed.

"Why? Are you interested in her?"

"I mean, I thought I was."

"Y/N, everyone here knows you prefer women over men."

"I guess I was just ready to open the door to Mizu if she was in fact a guy. I just didn't want to jump to conclusions when I wasn't able to tell."

"You wouldn't be the first. People here had issues with her."

"Why's that?"

"She was a regular here before you started working with us. That was when she was a bit more feminine presenting. But when she started changing into what we see her normally wear, she went into the bathroom one day. It was also before we changed it to be single stalls instead of multiple. She went in to use the restroom and a mother and her young child came out, screaming at us for allowing Mizu into the bathroom. The mother thought Mizu was a man, and when explaining it to her that she is biologically female, the mother did not believe her. You'll never believe what Mizu said to the woman."

"What?"

"'Want to check yourself?'"

I almost dropped over, both Ise and my friend laughing.

"The mother was so disgusted, saying that she was being assaulted now by what Mizu said. The police got involved and after some extensive and some invasive work on Mizu, they deemed she was in fact a woman. The mother still didn't believe it."

"I feel bad for Mizu," I said.

"We all did. So whenever she comes in here, which isn't as often as before, we give her a discount on her entire order. She doesn't know that and the other customers don't know it either."

"It's hard to believe that she doesn't know."

"I'm sure she does. But she hasn't said anything about it. Although, she does tip generously."

"I think she's making it up for the many times you discounted her order."

"We just all felt bad for her and what she had to go through. Oh! I know. You should do something for her."

"What?"

"Yeah. She's going to be coming here in a few days."

"How do you know that?"

"Ise is able to track people's schedules," my friend said.

"No, I just know that Mizu is going to be tattooing a friend of mine. She comes in here whenever she has to tattoo someone."

"So I take it she was tattooing someone today."

"Yes. This is my friend's first session," Ise said. "She'll be going back in a few days to do the second session."

"I see. What should I do for Mizu?"

"Chocolate can't go wrong," my friend said.

"But she does like tea," Ise said. "When my friend goes to get her tattoos done, Mizu is always drinking tea. Mostly hot tea."

I nodded my head, "I see."

A few days had gone by and when the day Mizu was going to be making another return, I was ready. I didn't want to come off as stalkerish, which was why I had to make this perfect. When the bell rang, I picked my head up and found Mizu walking to the counter.

"Same as before?" I asked.

"How do you know?" Mizu looked at me with suspicion.

"Your order stands out."

"Does it?"

"You're the only one who orders the hot matcha green tea," I said.

"Out of all the customers here?" she perked an eyebrow.

I nodded my head, "Most people here enjoy coffee. You're the only tea person."

"Huh. I see."

"And some people here thought it would be nice to give you this," I pulled out a small bag and placed it on the counter for her.

"What's this? Was this Ise's idea?" Mizu asked.

"You know Ise?"

"She came in to accompany her friend one time. I tattoo her friend and she is getting her second session today."

"What is she getting?"

"Something similar to what I have."

Mizu turned around and moved her tank top down slightly. I poked my head over the counter and found there was a large phoenix tattoo on her back.

"It's not exactly a phoenix. Hers is going to be a turtle."

"Oh, I see."

Mizu turned around, "Thank you," she gestured to the bag. "If it was Ise's idea, I assume it will be tea."

"It was actually mine. Ise gave me the idea to give you something."

"Why's that?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, but she told me what happened to you. About the mother and child here that caused you issues."

A small smile crawled on Mizu's lips, "It was a bit of an unfortunate situation, but it just showed me that people will think what they want to think no matter what."

"Even though I don't really know you, I think you're a great person. For persevering through all of that."

"Thank you," she said.

"I-I'll get your tea ready."

"What's your name?"

"Am I not wearing my name tag?" I looked down at my apron, noticing it was gone. "Shit, I'm not."

She chuckled.

"It's Y/N," I said.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," she said. "I hope to see you around."

#mizu x reader #bes mizu #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai

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inkdrinkerworld · 7 months

Note

hotch who takes autistic!reader away form it all when she notices she's having a hard time

Yes yes!!

You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, you can smell all the men’s cologne mixed together and worst of all you can feel your clothes pressing into your skin.

The bullpen is a mess as the teams coordinate with all the departments but it’s not your usual mess and it’s not conducive for you at all.

Spencer can see your spacey eyes. He watches you drag your pendant across your chain mindlessly for three minutes before calling Hotch.

“Yeah, just come down here.” He says and hangs up, eyes monitoring you to see if he can even try speaking to you.

“Hotch is coming.” He tries to say, but you say nothing and let tears fill your eyes.

There’s a crash and a shrill sound that follows it that has your hands covering your ears.

Aaron is near you instantly when he notices Spencer’s distress.

“Y/n?” He calls, voice clear and low.

“She’s mute right now.” Spencer says and Aaron nods.

His large hand falls to your back, watching your head turn slowly in his direction.

“My office,” Aaron says, pointing to his door that’s ajar. “Your headphones are on the sofa from this morning.”

You nod, blinking and letting your tears fall. Aaron follows behind you, hand at your back still. A guiding force that grounds you even as you feel overwhelmed.

The second you’re in his office, Aaron pulls you to his chest, as he leans over to get the headphones and slip it over your ears.

The noise is cut out and you can breathe again. Your lungs fill as you inhale Aaron’s cologne.

“You’re okay honey, you’re okay.” His hand rubs at your back letting you take as much time as you need to regulate yourself.

#aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x black!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x yn #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner fic #tism🤝

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ssaeri · 1 year

Text

for your eyes only

☆ tags: elliott x gn!reader, elliott and farmer are married, he writes love poems for his spouse and is told to monetize them, oh boy is he not happy about that ☆

You pat your pig's backside encouragingly and coo as it digs its snout into the ground, unearthing yet another truffle that you add to your basket. Can't believe you were worried about this one being the runt of its litter—it's quickly proving to be one of the fastest learners, taking to truffle hunting like a duck to water. It'll do just fine with the rest of the adult pigs.

Taking care of the farm by yourself has always been a gargantuan task, but as the years go by, everything grows bigger—the coops, the barns, the ponds, the crops, the expectations—and exhaustion wears you down to the bone. You sigh and push to your feet, ready to head into the nearest coop to collect more eggs. Collect animal products, drop them into churning machines, harvest and sell. It feels like the cycle never ends. Against your neck, the small mermaid's pendant slides on its chain, another reminder of your absent husband. An extra pair of helping hands made the daily work light; you wonder if it's selfish to ask him to stay home more often.

"I know, I know," you say to your angry chickens once you open the door. You miss your husband, but these girls like to remind you that they miss him more. "He'll be home soon. Bear with me, okay?"

After giving each of them pats on the head, a motion they accept with reluctance, you dig around the hay for eggs. The large chicken and dinosaur eggs are easy to spot, but for the delicate duck eggs, you prod every corner with your fingers until you come across something warm and smooth. You push away your hens as they peck at your hands. The ducks are fine with you. The chickens, however...how in the world did Elliott win them over?

Outside, your dog barks. A single warning to the intruder before the tone shifts into excitement. Someone familiar, then. Maybe Marnie is stopping by to give you some hay like she mentioned last night. With winter approaching, any addition to your reserves is appreciated, and you're already wiping your hands on your overalls to greet her.

"Hey, Marnie! I'm just in here—"

You stop in your tracks when the visitor raises his head, though he's not exactly a visitor. Elliott smiles as you draw close, ignoring the horde of chickens now lining the fence for his attention. Their wings flap, clucking loudly as they hit each other.

"Good morning, my love," he says over the noise, as if it really is the start to a normal day. His thumb reaches out to rub at a dirt smudge on your cheek. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Just some leftovers and coffee," you reply, dazed. Your husband tends to have that effect, and after two weeks apart, you feel it more than ever. You lean into his touch, comforting against your wind-blown skin. "I thought you were coming home tomorrow?"

"I decided to come back early. The office didn't need me today, anyway."

"You should've messaged me! I would've picked you up at the train station," you say. Behind him sits his traveling suitcase, the wheels speckled with mud from being dragged through the road. He steps in front of it. "Why don't you go get unpacked? I'll be done soon."

He leans his elbows onto the fence, tilting his head until his fiery hair spills over one shoulder. "You're rather quick to dismiss my presence. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you're unhappy to see me," he says, though his words hold no accusation. It's merely a way to boost his ego when you reassure him. After all, you practically radiate by his side. "Would you like me to help?"

You glance at the dress shoes, the slacks, the spotless cardigan that he's already shrugging off to reveal a clean pressed button-down. Not exactly farm-friendly attire. "No, I'll be alright by myself."

"I could go change really quickly," he offers in a suspicious rush.

You search his expression then, and underneath the joy of being back, there's...something. You squint, unable to make it out. Sure, he must've missed you, but this feels like it runs deeper than that. When you give him a nod, he hurries towards the house, your dog chasing and barking at his heels. True to his word, he's back in minutes.

The chickens are much more cooperative now, and you roll your eyes at how they parade around your husband. They even hop around the coop, showing him where they've hidden their eggs from your intrusive searching.

"Thank you, dearies," he says to the hens. You swear they swoon.

"A real heart breaker," you deadpan. "Have you told them you're married?"

He chuckles, taking your hand as you move into the barns next door. While you lay out new hay on the feeding bench, he unhooks the stools and milk pails and sets them on either side of the door. It's hard to believe that just a few months ago he barely knew how to approach your animals, let alone help you with the chores.

He whistles lowly, and the first cow trudges to his station, ready to be milked. You get settled at your own station. One of the newer goats skids to the front of the line, eager to be let outside. It's not quiet in the barn—it never is, not with twelve grown animals waiting for their turn—but when you call Elliott's name, he looks at you. His ponytail needs to be retied.

"So why'd you come home early?" The young adult goats don't have much milk, just enough for a small container. You pat its hind leg, and it runs into the crisp autumn air with an excited bleat.

"I missed the atmosphere of our farm. The fresh air of the valley is good for my creative soul, unlike the bustle of Zuzu City."

You only raise your eyebrows, and he sighs from your all-knowing gaze.

"You read me a little too well, my love."

"I sure hope so, after all this time together. Did something happen at the office?"

Since the release of his last collection of short stories, he's been invited to the city more often for author-related events. This latest stint, running a series of writing workshops in partnership with Zuzu University and the local community, was organized by his agent in hopes of bigger opportunities. Maybe even a guest lecturer contract, they've said on more than one occasion, though Elliott refuses to be apart from you for too long.

Elliott gives another sigh. "Something like that. I just...it was admittedly negligence on my part. I was in the middle of writing you another letter when someone required my presence down the hall. I thought that it'd be a quick matter, so I didn't clear my desk. But apparently one of the secretaries came looking for me while I was out."

"Did they read...?" You wrinkle your nose, knowing how private Elliott is about his unpolished work. He's even more private about what he writes for your eyes only. "I'm sure they were embarrassed."

"That's what bothers me the most! She had the audacity to bring it up in front of everyone when we had a meeting, even quoted a few lines—"

The cow groans as he moves particularly rough. He gives it an apologetic scratch under the chin.

"So for the past two days, everyone has been trying to talk me into releasing a collection of love poems, which I would have no issues with if it didn't stem from such a personal...I mean, the poems were addressed to my muse, and when I explained that it was you, they said that was even better. Something about how the romance will really sell." He frowns. "I like being able to support myself—contribute to our funds, you know—with my writing, but it's not...a commodity. I'm allowed to make art for the sake of making art."

His forehead is furrowed, and you would reach out to ease the frustration if your hands weren't busy.

"What's your plan now?"

He scoffs. "There's no plan regarding that. I completely refuse. It's quite insulting, in fact, the idea that I'd put my love on display for a paycheck."

It's relieving, you have to admit. Even after getting a taste of success, your husband remains the same person you said your vows to. The same romantic who holds you in such high esteem. There's so many emotions—namely affection—swirling in your chest, but you're not the writer so all you manage is a simple Okay.

"Okay," you say again for good measure, but he must understand you because his expression smooths. "So what do you want for lunch?"

#stardew x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #sdv elliott x reader #stardew x farmer #stardew valley x farmer #sdv x farmer #sdv elliott x farmer #stardew valley scenarios #sdv scenarios #sdv elliott scenarios #stardew scenarios #saeri writes;

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jasperthehatchet · 4 months

Text

Some necklaces and bracelets I made a while ago. Thought I'd post them here for solarpunk aesthetic week 🌿☀️🌻🌿

[Image ID: the first image is of three bracelets. One made of three silver metal beads in between one reddish wood bead (thats the pattern), the second is completely made out of safety pins and the last one is made of green wooden oval beads that I weaved yarn through to connect them so they all lay vertically next to each other.

The next image is of a large piece of twine layered over itself, a necklace, with random colorful glass, wood and metal beads scattered all throughout it about an inch apart from each other. They're held in place on the twine with knots so they don't slide around.

The third image is a necklace with a light colored leather cord, with varying colors and shapes of wooden beads on both sides of the pendant. The pendant is an aged gold colored metal sun with a black crystal center. The colors of the beads include dark brown, light brown and in between, with two different sized sphere shapes and lighter tube shaped ones.

The fourth image is of two necklaces almost identical to each other. Both have five small wood beads on both sides of the pendants near the bottom, and multiple small green wood beads tied onto the thin twine cord almost an inch apart from each other. Both pendants are smooth stones, one is a yellow triangle shape and one is a dark grayish blue sharp tooth shape.

The next necklace is on a light colored leather cord. The pendant is a light pink jade donut shaped stone and the beads are varying sizes of wooden beads that are light brown and green with some metal ones in there. The bead closest to the pendant at the bottom holding both sides of the cord together is a white plastic bead with a black spiral design and there are two metal tube beads splitting the cord into two sections, then the rest of the beads are strung up from there

The final necklace is made of varying colors and shapes of steampunk gears. There are bronze, silver and green oxidized copper ones all about the size of a quarter. Some are a little bigger than that. They're all attached to each other in a chain linked together with large silver jump rings and the part that hangs it from the neck is made of silver necklace chain. End ID]

And here's two soda tab arm cuffs I made as well

[Image ID: two images of large bracelets/arm cuffs I weaved out of silver aluminum soda tabs, using black cord. I don't really know how to describe how I made them but it's the same method people use to make soda tab belts as well. End ID]

I have a hard time describing things or wording stuff correctly so I hope my image descriptions are sufficient. If anyone reading my posts can do better, please don't be afraid to add more detailed ones in the reblogs or comment, I will reblog them and/edit my posts to add them as well <3

#solarpunk #solarpunk aesthetic #solarpunk aesthetic week #solarpunk fashion #solarpunk diy #diy #ecopunk #hopepunk #sustainable fashion #sustainability #recycling #jewelry making #jewelry #punk #punk fashion #hatchet makes stuff

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synajewel · 1 year

Text

Cosmic Earrings

Elevate your style with our exquisite Cosmic Earrings. Our collection at SYNAJEWELS offers a variety of unique and mesmerizing designs that capture the essence of the cosmos. Crafted with high-quality materials, our Cosmic Earrings are the perfect statement piece for any occasion. Shop now and add a touch of magic to your wardrobe.

Call us at 201-336-4132 Address: 2125 Center Ave #107, Fort Lee, NJ 07024, United States

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itshotluxury · 2 years

Video

Guide to Buying Black Diamonds - ItsHot Jewelry

#ItsHot reviews #ItsHot mens diamond rings #ItsHot custom jewelry #ItsHot earrings #ItsHot coupons #ItsHot pendants #ItsHot YouTube #ItsHot bracelets #ItsHot promo code #ItsHot facebook #ItsHot large face diamond watch #ItsHot luxury watches #ItsHot necklaces #ItsHot rope chains

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shadowlali · 5 months

Text

mayor que usted - ch. 2

COD AU - Coronel Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

[18+] wc: ~10k series masterlist

series summary: You live a carefree and happy life in Las Almas now that El Sin Nombre is gone. Unbeknownst to the people, a new narco moves in with his eyes on you and nothing to lose. Alejandro steps up as your pretend boyfriend while Los Vaqueros stage a plan to take down this new threat. It's fake dating until it's not. You and Alejandro slip into the roles too well and lines begin to blur. Will Alejandro be able to let go of his own rules to allow himself the chance to find love? Based off this request.

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, no use of y/n, not too many descriptions of reader (Alejandro is taller than reader), age gap (not specified but keep it legal), stalker behavior by unwanted suitor, mentions of blood/violence, mentions of narcos/cartels, mentions of drugs, cliffhanger, mutual pining, slow burn, size kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v, somnophilia (consensual), creampie (many) a/n: thank you all for being so patient! sargento in spanish is pronounced sar-hen-toh

Reader's P.O.V.

“What are we doing here?”

“An errand,” Alejandro responds as he parks his truck close to the plaza.

“So talkative,” you mutter under your breath.

You see Alejandro laugh as he walks around the front of the truck and comes to open the passenger door. His attention is on you while he helps you jump down but his eyes are on a constant swivel as you begin to walk. Before reaching the main plaza, Alejandro links his fingers through yours and brings you in closer. It’s your first time back in town after the break-in, the past few days you’ve been holed up at Alejandro’s ranch.

Rudy’s mom immediately wanted to take you back to their home but Alejandro stopped her, saying his girlfriend would be staying at his home. To say Rudy’s mom and Alejandro’s mom were happy would be an understatement. The break-in was momentarily forgotten while they pounced with hugs and kisses and slight chastising because they weren’t aware you two were together.

Alejandro had already come up with a plan the day before on what the story would be. According to him, you two have always been attracted to each other. Neither of you made a move for fear of rejection until Alejandro realized he couldn’t imagine you with anyone else but him. It was sweet and to the point.

Ximena thought it was extra sweet that Alejandro was the one to come up with the story, making a comment while you two were alone that it would be amazing if this led to something more. You reminded her that it was fake, even if your heart fluttered just a bit at the idea. However, the last thing you want to do is make Alejandro uncomfortable.

You're shaken out of your thoughts as Alejandro stops in front of the local jewelry store. Once inside, the store attendant waves hello and steps in their back room. Alejandro walks to the register to wait and you take a moment to walk around the store. You don’t come in here often, but the few times you have you always take a look at the shiny jewelry. Underneath the glass display, one particular ring catches your eye. The large diamond placed in the middle of the gold band twinkles back at you. The store attendant comes back with two long boxes and you hear Alejandro call your name.

“We were able to clean your chain, Coronel,” she states as she opens one box to show the thick chain Alejandro wears everyday, ”and we also found the one you were looking for. It was a little difficult to find the pendant and we did have to call another store in the next town over, but we put it together like you asked.”

She places the box in front of you and opens it. A dainty gold chain and butterfly pendant are laid upon the cushioned silk of the box.

“¿Te gusta?” Alejandro asks you. [Do you like it?]

“I–yes, it’s beautiful.”

Alejandro picks up the necklace and opens the clasp. “Turn around, nena.”

“Wait, it’s for me? Alejandro, no that’s–that's too much. I–”

“Turn around,” he insists more firmly.

You raise your eyebrow at his tone, ignoring the flash of heat in your core. The corner of his lips curve slightly before he hides his smile and gently turns you around. With no room to deny him, you let him wrap the chain around your neck. His fingertips brush over your skin briefly while he adjusts the piece before he moves back. You turn towards one of the mirrors on the display case to thumb the gold butterfly, watching it wink back through the mirror.

“Alejandro, I don’t know what to say?”

“Say you accept my gift.” he says plainly, as if buying you an expensive present is completely normal on a random weekday.

You whisper thank you and lean to place a small kiss on his jaw, your lips tickled by the thick hair from his beard. He offers you a smile while he quickly clasps his own chain around his neck. The store attendant busies herself by placing both boxes in a gift bag with some cleaning kits.

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, the store attendant and Alejandro’s voice drowned out by the blood rushing to your ears. It’s not the first gift he’s bought for you, the journals and books and nice pens that sit on your desk are a testament to what an amazing gift giver he is.

But this is the first time he’s bought jewelry for you, expensive and personalized jewelry. It has to be all a part of his plan… right? Yes, you think, he probably has a much more logical reason for this gift. If the store attendant had to call a store in another town to find something for Coronel Alejandro Vargas, then that’s already two separate people outside of the families who know about the relationship. While you love this town, it's small enough that any sort of gossip spreads like wildfire and will eventually reach León.

Their conversation comes to an end and Alejandro leads you out of the store, once again reaching for your hand. The walk back to the truck is interrupted by a few people coming up to ask if you’re okay. You think their concerns are genuine, but you can also see their curious glances towards your linked hands. Alejandro lets them know he’s looking into the break-in but in the meantime his mujer will be staying with him. [woman]

In that moment you thank Alejandro and Rudy’s need for privacy. While their families and very close friends know where they live, most in Las Almas have only an idea of where their homes might be. The last thing you want is León finding Alejandro or Rudy’s home and doing something in retaliation. Alejandro leads you back to the truck and begins the drive to base.

“Ale… why did you buy me this necklace?” you ask while absentmindedly playing with the pendant.

He glances over at you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other arm placed on the center console. You can see your reflection in his black aviators. He fixes his eyes on the road once more before he answers. “I thought you deserved something nice after what happened.”

You’re left speechless for a few seconds until you laugh. “You’re already doing so much for me! A necklace wasn’t necessary.”

“Just enjoy it, yeah?” he says.

You nod and lean over the console to place another kiss on his cheek. The rest of the ride is left in comfortable silence.

- - -

Alejandro’s P.O.V.

Alejandro only half listens to Rudy as he sees you walk away with Ximena, most likely to her office where she does their bookkeeping. Ximena points to the necklace and while he can’t hear what she says, he assumes she’s asking about it. You disappear from view as the both of you turn the corner.

“Alejandro? Alejandro?” Rudy asks.

“Ye—Yes, you were talking about the cargo you intercepted.”

Rudy raises his eyebrow slightly but continues talking, “I have some soldiers sorting through it but it’s weapons we haven’t seen before.”

“What did the driver say?”

Rudy sighs, “Nothing valuable. Said he was hired to pick up the truck and drive it to some place not far from here. He had a map so I sent some soldiers to check it out… You think it was León?”

Alejandro’s stomach sours at the mention of that name. “Could be. Let’s hope the soldiers find something good.”

Rudy leaves, relieved from his shift now that Alejandro is there. He takes you and Ximena with him, getting instructions from Alejandro to drop you off at his home. Alejandro does a few rounds on base, checking in on the soldiers while also periodically checking his phone to view his security cameras. Once he sees that his home is quiet, aside from the guards patrolling the outskirts of his property, Alejandro makes his way to the cargo.

The warehouse that holds the confiscated semi-truck is noisy and busy, the soldiers removing boxes and sorting through all the weapons carefully. He takes a look at the various pieces, his jaw clenching once he realizes they were assembled in parts. It’ll be difficult to trace the weapons to the source. It hurts him to see all of this. Alejandro worked so hard to free Las Almas only for narcos to start moving back in. No. I won’t let them, he thinks.

Alejandro spends the rest of the afternoon sorting through and taking inventory of what they find. They manage to find a burner phone hidden underneath the seat. He has one of the soldiers try to trace the phone numbers and look through the text messages. It turns out to be useless, the two phone numbers recorded in the phone seem to be from a randomized phone number app. More bad news comes his way once the soldiers sent to check-out the drop off sight come back with no information. The drop-off site was an empty field with no signs of life in the surrounding area.

Hours later, once the sun has set and they’ve sorted through half of the boxes, Alejandro decides to leave. On a normal day, he’d stay on base to work the moment he wakes. He rushes home instead, wondering if his guest needs him even though he knows you’re okay. It’s still early in the night, and he assumes you’re curled up on the couch with one of the books from his shelf. The scent of home cooked food drifts to him once he walks through the front door. Alejandro walks towards the dining room and sees you place dishes on the table.

“Hey, you’re home!” you greet him. “I made dinner.” You offer him a bright smile and continue talking, ”I realized if I’m staying here the least I could do would be to cook.”

Alejandro isn’t sure how to react and instead continues to stand still, surprise etched on his face.

“I asked your mom what your favorite foods are and she gave me some of her recipes.”

“She must have been very excited that you called,” he manages to say after his silence. “But, you don’t have to, you’re a guest–”

Your smile drops and you let out a sigh, “I want to, Ale. Just let me do this, okay?”

Alejandro notices the stubborn look in your eyes, the one where he knows you’ll just ignore him. He nods once, the smile returning to your face once you realize he’s accepting your proposition. You walk back into the kitchen to get his drink after telling him to wash up. As he makes his way to his room, Alejandro smiles to himself. Despite being serious about not wanting you to worry about cooking for him, he can’t help but feel warmth spread through his chest at all the effort you put in.

The conversation flows easily between the two of you, Alejandro’s body calming down after his long day of work. He savors each bite of food and tells you over and over how delicious it is. You wave him off, a shy looking flashing across your face. You ask him personal questions, like what his favorite books are and when was the first time he rode a horse.

It's been a few hours, the food and drinks long gone. Alejandro begins picking up plates and cups once he notices the sleepy look in your eyes. He doesn’t want the night to end, which is scary to think. In these past few days and in these last few hours, he’s come to realize how comfortable he is in your presence. He craves more of you, more of your thoughts and your stories and the sound of your voice.

You refuse to stay sitting, instead helping dry plates while he washes. Alejandro asks about your plans the next day and his stomach drops once you remind him that you’ll be returning to work. As much as he’d love to keep you locked up in his house until the threat is neutralized, you deserve to live your normal life. With a soldier he’s handpicked to protect you, of course.

The kitchen now clean, the both of you walk down the hallway. You bid him goodnight once you reach your door. With a soft click, the door to your room closes. He stares at the closed door for a few moments, listening to your muffled steps and then the shower turning on. Alejandro drags his feet to his room, wondering how he’s going to survive living under the same roof as you.

- - -

Reader’s P.O.V.

Bright and early the next day you arrive to work and park your car. You wave to the escolta who parks right next to your car and make your way into the boutique. You manage to take some steps inside before you’re bombarded with questions from your coworkers. [bodyguard]

“Why didn’t you tell us you were dating Coronel Vargas?”

“Is it true he bought you a neckla–oh, it's so pretty!”

“How long were you planning on keeping this a secret?”

“When did you move in with him?”

“Are you okay?” your boss asks.

You nod,” Yes, I’m okay. Alejandro is working on it—“

Simultaneous ooohhs and you call him by his first name? are exclaimed by your coworkers and luckily your boss shoos them away, taking you aside and once again asking you how you feel. Once you’ve assured her that you’re fine and ready to work again, she leaves to the back office. You drop your things off in the backroom and your coworkers pounce again. You answer their questions, finding it quite funny how obsessed they are about your new ‘relationship’.

You fall back into the routine you know and love so much. Clothes are folded or added onto mannequins, inventory is checked, and light gossip is passed between you and your coworkers. You don’t realize how much you missed in the week gone from work. Customers come in and window shoppers are abundant today but you’re not sure if it's because they want new clothes or a glimpse at Coronel Vargas’ new girlfriend.

As you clean the front window, you try to remember any of Alejandro’s past girlfriends. You’ve known both families long enough but the only woman you can think of is Valeria. You’re not quite sure what happened between them, if Alejandro broke her heart or the other way around. It does hurt to think about Alejandro being alone all these years, maybe unable to open up again after his last failed relationship.

The window becomes clean enough that you can see your reflection and the local florist walk across the street. You turn around and the older man waves with one hand while carrying a giant bouquet of bright pink tulips.

“Making a special delivery?” you joke.

“Yes! How did you know?” he asks.

“Oh—uh, I didn’t! Are they for me?”

He laughs at your genuine look of confusion and hands you the bouquet, “Coronel Vargas said pink tulips are one of your favorite flowers.”

You grab the bouquet slowly, feeling your heart double in size. “Yeah, they are,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

He says goodbye and you push open the boutique door with your shoulder, jumping slightly once you hear screams of excitement from your coworkers.

Before you can grab it, one of your coworkers swipes the small notecard sticking out from the top. “‘I hope you have a great day at work, nena - Ale.’ Aw, you call him Ale? That’s so cute!”

It’s becoming difficult to separate the fake from the real. On one hand, you’re well aware that this relationship is fake and the truth will come out once Leòn is caught. On the other hand, there’s moments where you think Alejandro and you share something deeper. Last night for example, you could’ve sworn Alejandro didn’t want the conversation to end. He even went as far as to walk you back to the guest bedroom.

The tulips are probably for appearances only, but that doesn’t stop you from snapping a photo and sending it to him. The horrible memory of the last bouquet you received is pushed out of your mind with the help of Alejandro.

You: [Image sent]

9:27 A.M.

thank you for the tulips! i’m having a great day at work 🌷🤍

9:28 A.M.

Ale: [Ale loved an image]

9:29 A.M.

I’m glad you like them and I’m happy to hear.

9:29 A.M.

- - -

Work isn’t until later in the morning so there isn’t a reason to be up so early, but you like the view of the sunrise through the big windows in the living room. It’s been your new routine for the past days, waking up early and sitting on the couch while Alejandro gets ready for base. The first time he spoke to you with his morning voice, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It’s deep and more rough than usual, but it's a sound you’ve come to crave.

Alejandro is surprisingly talkative in the early hours of the day, telling you what his plans are then wanting to know yours. He brings you a cup of coffee, strong and dark with just a splash of milk, and leans on the armrest of the couch. His eyes are always sleepy and his voice stays low while he stares out of the window, the both of you watching the beams of dark red and orange paint the sky.

Your life isn’t the only one that’s changed; Alejandro’s routine and mornings are probably a lot more different. You’re surprised at how welcoming he’s been, never making you feel like you’re imposing in his home. He makes sure the couch always has thick blankets for the cold mornings and remembers to make your coffee exactly how you like it. Even on the days where he needs to leave a little earlier or runs late, he’ll leave the mug waiting by the window sill.

In the afternoons when Alejandro returns from work, you’re always in the process of finishing dinner. He’ll put down his things, wash up, then help you set the dining table. Sometimes Ximena and Rudy or their moms will visit, and it feels like you’re having dinner with family. When Alejandro comes home tired from work, the two of you will sit in comfortable silence. He tries to keep a conversation going, but you always remind him to relax and enjoy dinner.

No matter how tired or drained he is from the day, he’ll insist on helping with the dishes and making you tea. You’re not quite sure when he noticed that you like to drink tea before bed, but he’ll fill the kettle and place a tea bag in the mug you use so often. And that’s the routine that you two follow mostly every single day.

You know it won’t last forever. You know that eventually Los Vaqueros will catch León and you’ll go back to your own house. You know that one morning you’ll wake up to watch the sunrise and Alejandro won’t be there with his sleepy voice and a cup of coffee. But until then, until the threat is taken down and Las Almas once again knows peace, you’ll cherish these moments with Alejandro and ignore the countdown in your head.

- - -

Alejandro’s P.O.V.

He sits at his desk with a giant map of Las Almas and surrounding cities printed on it. There’s little red circles and lines that he draws on the map as he listens to the radio. Rudy stands on the other side of the desk, turning the dial to bypass the static. Even before catching El Sin Nombre, there’s been a group of soldiers dedicated to listening to chatter on the radio.

Earlier today, the soldiers alerted Rudy of what they believe to be León’s men coordinating the shipment of product. The only reason the soldiers believe it’s them is because they mentioned his name once before another told them to use patrón instead. Now, Alejandro listens to the conversations and places circles over the regions they mention.

An hour passes by with complete silence over the radio but by then, Alejandro has already sent out a drone to scope out the area. The camera footage shows tents, trailers, and semi trucks. He can see people moving boxes into the trucks and smoke coming out of the open tents. Alejandro decides not to wait for more conversations over the radio, deciding to stop the trucks from leaving and breaking down what he assumes to be makeshift labs.

“¿Estás seguro?” Rudy asks as they put on their vests. “You don’t want to wait to make sure?” [Are you sure?]

“No, let's go.”

Adrenaline begins to flow through Alejandro’s body, the familiar buzz he feels right before a mission is back. The Jeeps file out of the warehouse and he hears the soldiers shout buena suerte. He sends a quick message to you, that he’ll be gone until morning but everything will be okay. He leaves it at that, not wanting to make you nervous. [good luck]

They leave the cars parked a few clicks away and manage to ambush the men. Some try to run, but they don’t get far. Once the men are secured and sitting on the ground, Alejandro does a last sweep through the trailers and tents. Just as he suspected, they were making, packaging, and shipping all in this location. He doesn’t find León, none of the men look like the security footage from the bar.

He walks into the farthest trailer, separating from the rest of the soldiers. The inside of the trailer is disgusting; dirty mattresses on the floor, liquor bottles, and of course drug paraphernalia. The backdoor to the rest of the trailer is closed. Alejandro props up his weapon and wiggles the door handle. It doesn’t budge. He’s not sure if it's locked or if something on the other pushes against it to keep it closed.

Just as he lifts his leg to kick it open, he feels the sudden pain of a blunt metal object hitting the back of his head. He grunts from the pain, but manages to spin and block the next blow from his attacker. His eyes are unfocused and he feels warm blood begin to drip down his head. Alejandro sees the silver glint of a knife and quickly shoots the attacker in the knee. With a shout of agony, the man falls and drops both weapons.

He kicks the weapons out of reach and scans the trailer. Alejandro finds the door open to a tiny closet that he missed when he first walked in, mentally kicking himself for not checking thoroughly. Rudy kicks open the main door with his gun drawn, noticing the screaming man on the floor then Alejandro holding up a handkerchief to the back of his head.

“What happened?” Rudy shouts over the noise.

“Nada, sargento,” Alejandro rebuffs while wincing in pain,”let’s light it up.” [Nothing sergeant]

Once outside, Alejandro sees one of the trucks being loaded with boxes of intel and the captured men. His attacker, now passed out from blood loss and pain, is also placed in the truck with a makeshift tourniquet. With the truck heading back to base, they tip over all the tubs full of chemicals and rip open the packaged product. They find gasoline in canisters and dump it all over the site and through each trailer. From a safe distance Alejandro shoots the trail of gasoline with a flare gun. It only takes five minutes for the entire place to go up in flames.

“Thank God we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Rudy mutters.

Back at base, the pain in his skull has decreased to a slight throbbing. It’s loud and a little chaotic with the soldiers placing men in cells and providing or receiving medical treatment. Alejandro sends out a prayer in thanks for none of his soldiers being badly injured. The onsite paramedic cleans Alejandro’s wound and stitches him up.

“I fear you may have a concussion,” the medic states while removing his gloves, “I need you to rest but not fall asleep for a few more hours.”

“Yeah, yeah I understand. I’ll go back to my office to help sort through–”

“Coronel, it’s best if you relax for the rest of the night. Why don’t you have someone drive you back home? Away from all the noise and chaos?”

They go back and forth for a bit, Alejandro too energized by pain and adrenaline to worry about resting. Eventually, the doctor arrives and sends Alejandro home. He doesn’t realize how late it is until he checks his watch and realizes it's past midnight. A soldier drops him off at the ranch and Alejandro stumbles only slightly when walking inside. He unlocks the door and is immediately enveloped in your warm embrace.

“Ale, are you okay? What–what happened?” you ask with terror clogging your voice.

He brings his arms up and around you, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You tremble slightly in his embrace and lean back to look at him. Alejandro notes your red, teary eyes and wipes his thumb across your wet cheek; you’ve been crying.

“I’m okay, nena. Just a bump on my head.”

You squeeze him tighter and he cups your face in his large hands, wiping away the tears that fall.

“No llores, bebé. Te prometo que estoy bien.” he croons. [Don’t cry, baby. I promise I’m okay.]

Alejandro can tell you don’t completely believe him because more tears fall from your pretty eyes, but you nod and let him go anyway.

“How did you know something happened?” Alejandro asks.

“Ximena saw the Jeeps leave and heard one of the soldiers talking. She texted me to see if I knew anything.” you respond.

Alejandro tries to nod but ends up wincing instead. He reaches a hand to touch the back of his skull. You let go of him and quickly walk around, gasping once you see the stitches in the dim light.

“You said you were okay, Alejandro!”

He winces again, not from the tone or volume of your voice but because it’s the first time in a while that you use his full name. “I am, I might have a concussion but–”

“A what? Oh my god, let’s get you to your room.”

Too tired to disagree, Alejandro lets you lead him to his room once he’s kicked off his dirty boots in the entryway. He waits while you enter his bathroom and turn on the shower. You ruffle through his drawers and take out pajamas for him.

“Come on, in the shower,” you say while pulling him by his hand,” I’m going to wait outside while you shower. Don’t close the door all the way so I can hear if you fall.”

Alejandro smiles at the serious look on your face, emotion swirling in his stomach at you being so ready to care for him. You roll your eyes and push him into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. He groans once the hot water touches his skin. Careful to not wet the stitches, Alejandro washes off the blood and sweat from his body. Once clean, he shuts off the water and sluggishly puts on the clothes you chose for him.

He walks out of the bathroom to see you sitting on the edge of his bed with a cup of coffee. He tries to reach for it, but you swat his hand away and point to the glass of water and the pain meds next to it. Alejandro swallows the pills and finishes his water as you turn on the TV and select a random movie.

“I called the doctor on base,” you start,” and she said to keep a watch over you for the next few hours. So I’m going to stay here and we’re going to watch movies until I know for sure you’re okay.”

Alejandro pushes the covers back on his bed and gets underneath. He pats the spot next to him, figuring you’re too stubborn to convince to leave. You eye the spot for a moment but walk to the other side of the bed and place the coffee cup on the nightstand. Before you can decide to sit on top of the covers, Alejandro throws them back. You get underneath them but sit a respectable distance away from him on the king size bed.

“Are you allowed to tell me what happened?” you whisper.

Alejandro turns towards you and nods, ”We heard that León had some men working up in the hills. We didn’t find him, but we found his men and burned the place down.”

“Still a win, Ale.”

He gives a noncommittal hum.

“How did that happen?” you say while pointing to his head.

He groans, mostly from embarrassment. “I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t hear someone come up behind me…I think Rudy was right.”

“In what?”

Alejandro reaches for your hand and gives it a squeeze. “Maybe we could have waited before hitting the place. Maybe León would’ve shown up eventually.”

“You’ll catch him. I know you will.”

You lean towards him and place a warm kiss on his cheek. It scorches and leaves tingles on his skin. You lean back slightly, your face close to his. “Please be careful, Ale.”

His eyes flit down to the butterfly pendant on your soft chest, up to your lips then to your shiny eyes. He sees the moment your pupils dilate and move down to glance at his mouth. Alejandro forgets about the pain in his head and instead focuses on the beating of his heart. He brings up a hand to cup the side of your head and runs his thumb over your jaw. Your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip and he decides then and there he’s going to kiss you.

Just as he leans in, the sound of his ringtone startles you both. You jump back and he quickly reaches for his phone on the nightstand. He clenches the phone in his hand, cursing Rudy in his head as he sees his name flash on the screen. You clear your throat and reach for the coffee cup to take a sip.

“I can–uh–I can leave–” you start.

“No, no. I’ll take this in the hallway.” Alejandro interrupts.

He answers the call a little bit angry and becomes more annoyed once Rudy tells him what’s going on at base. All of the men were separated in the cells, yet none of them can pinpoint exactly where León is. They can only vaguely give a description of the region where he might be. Alejandro tells Rudy to keep him updated if anything and ends the call. He returns to the room to see you back at the other side of the bed.

“Anything important?” you ask.

Alejandro runs a hand across his jaw, making a note to trim his beard in the morning. “No, nothing yet.”

You change the conversation, essentially shutting down the idea of revisiting the ‘almost kiss’ from earlier. He decides not to press the issue and instead gets back into bed. You stay with him for a total of three movies, the conversation light and normal. Once you’ve made sure he’s okay, you turn off the TV and let him sleep, shutting the door behind you. As he listens to the sound of you walking back to your room, he wonders what would have happened had Rudy never called.

- - -

“Do you miss having them?” you ask while holding onto his waist.

Alejandro has since been cleared from his concussion and unfortunately no other voices have been heard on the radio. It’s a nice weekend, with the sun bright and the air fresh. The perfect weather to go horseback riding. So that’s what you two are doing, riding on one of Alejandro’s former horses.

“Sometimes, yeah. But they like being at Rudy’s ranch. They get a lot of exercise and the whole family loves them.” he responds.

“Why does Rudy have them?”

“I had too much going on with Los Vaqueros and couldn’t dedicate any time to them. Rudy’s uncles told me they would take care of them so I could focus.”

Focusing is what Alejandro is currently struggling with. He feels the warm press of your body on his back and legs. The flowery scent of your perfume wraps around him. You talk directly in his ear, scratching an itch in his brain with each word you say. He should have brought you horseback riding sooner if he knew how close you were going to be.

“I’ve seen them at Rudy’s home. I just never knew they were yours,” you pause before continuing,” once this situation with León is over, I promise I’ll help you care for any horses or animals you bring to your ranch.”

Alejandro chuckles,” Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Alejandro brings the horse to the little barn in the plaza meant for those who come into town on their horses. He dismounts then helps you down, his head becoming dizzy at the feel of your body sliding down his front. He keeps his hands wrapped around your waist and stares into the pools of your eyes. Your mouth parts and he can see the pink tip of your tongue. He brings you in closer, ready to kiss you. Before he can, both of your hats bump into each other.

“Shit–”

“I’m sorry–”

“¿Cuánto tiempo estarán fuera?” The man who runs the stables asks, coming to collect the horse and hand Alejandro a ticket. [How long will you be gone?]

“Só–sólo unas horas,” Alejandro stutters. He grabs the ticket and places his hand on your lower back to lead you out of the stables. [Just a few hours]

Once in the plaza, he holds your hand in his. That’s the second time where the kiss has been interrupted. He knows it’s probably for the best, that it’s a bad idea to experience the soft press of your mouth on his, to hold you even closer to his body and devour your mouth until you’re both gasping for air.

“There they are,” you exclaim as you point towards a group of people.

You wave and begin walking faster, pulling Alejandro with you. His and Rudy’s parents, along with Rudy and Ximena are waiting outside of a restaurant. Like the polite and perfect person you are, you greet each one with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Alejandro accidentally let it slip to Rudy that he was planning on bringing you to this restaurant for a date. Rudy decided to invite both families and inform Alejandro the morning of, making it too late for him to cancel.

They seat your party outside and for the next few hours Alejandro’s need to kiss you doesn’t stop. To keep up with appearances, you sit close to him with his arm around your shoulder. This provides Alejandro the best position to place soft kisses on the side of your head and the apples of your cheeks. On the third or fourth time he places a kiss on your cheek, he can feel the heat of your skin, you most likely just as flustered and affected as him.

Alejandro doesn’t have to pretend like dating you is difficult. You’re kind and honest and so beautiful to look at. Even now, while you argue with his dad about which players are the best on the national football team, he can’t help but desire for all of this to be real. You fit so nicely in his home, with his family, and in his life.

He wakes up every morning ready to serve you a cup of coffee and watch the sunrise. He thinks about you while he’s at work, wondering if you’re having a good day at your job. Alejandro rushes home every night, ready to hear your sweet voice and spend time together before you both walk to separate bedrooms.

Catching that wannabe narco is his main priority and he knows he’s only getting closer to trapping him. But the idea of losing you after this is all over sends pangs of hurt through his heart. Alejandro knows this isn't going to last forever, that one day you’re going to return to your normal life without him. But it still doesn’t lessen the pain.

The dinner comes to an end and Alejandro settles the bill. Despite being a little annoyed with Rudy this morning, he can’t help but recognize how nice it was to spend time with his family. The both of you make your way back to the stables, the awkward moment from earlier seemingly forgotten. Alejandro returns the ticket and pays while you bring the horse over. The journey back to Rudy’s house is slow and quiet, your arms wrapped nicely around his waist.

Eventually, you arrive at Rudy’s home. Alejandro unmounts and helps you down. You talk to Ximena while Alejandro and Rudy take the horse back to the stable. Alejandro barely listens to Rudy, instead thinking about you. He comes back, you say your goodbyes and get into Alejandro’s truck. Alejandro stays quiet on the drive back, listening to you talk about a movie you’re going to watch next weekend with Ximena and a few of your other coworkers.

“I had a lot of fun today, Ale” you say as you both walk into the house.

“So did I,” he replies.

The both of you take off your boots in the entryway and hang your hats on the hooks. Alejandro tries to think of something else to say, awkwardly fixing his boots by the door.

“I’ll–uh, see you tomorrow morning. Good night.” You press your lips on his cheek, turn and walk towards the hall.

Alejandro watches you walk away, the tight jeans you wear molding perfectly to your ass and thighs. He’s been forcing down his attraction to you, not allowing himself to think about you when he’s in the shower or alone in his bed. He’s always jerked off, more as a stress relief than actual pleasure. It only takes him a few minutes in the shower and he’s done. Even before you came to live with him, you’d invade his mind with that pretty smile and the body he loves so much.

But before, he was strong enough to push those images out of his head. Now? He’s not as strong. You excite him the most in the mornings with your puffy lips and half-lidded eyes, marks on your face from the pillow. You sit on the couch, wrapped in his blankets and smelling like soft linen. The desire overpowered the guilt and now he can’t go a single day without thinking about you while he fucks his hand.

Alejandro realizes he’s been standing in the same spot for a while now, only jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of the shower running in your room. He walks around the house to double check the windows and doors are all locked. The shower turns off in your room and he thinks about knocking on your door, just to see if you’ll still be wet from the water. He keeps walking to his room instead.

He lies awake in his bed an hour later. His own shower did nothing to relax him. Alejandro keeps replaying over and over again the times where you two have almost kissed. Before he can remind himself how bad of an idea it is to kiss you, he hears the door to your room open. He thinks you walk towards the living room or kitchen, but by now you’re too far for him to hear your footsteps.

Minutes later you still haven’t come back and curiosity gets the better of him. He checks the living room first but doesn’t find you there. He hears the whistle of the kettle and walks to the kitchen to see you turn off the stove and pour water into a cup.

Without turning around to face him you ask, “do you want some tea?”

The words are stuck in his throat at the slip of cloth he assumes are pajamas. A silk robe hangs off your shoulders, giving him a view of the thin straps to your babydoll nightgown. You turn to look at him with a confused expression since he hasn’t answered your question. Once you see the hungry look in his eyes, you move slightly to the side to press against the cool counter. Alejandro walks slowly to you, his eyes raking from the tips of your pink slippers up to your wide eyes.

His fingers slide up your arm and tug the strap of the nightgown. He continues, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly from your heavy breathing. Alejandro tugs lightly on the butterfly pendant and elicits a gasp from your mouth.

“What—what are we doing—“ you stutter.

“Can I kiss you, nena?” Alejandro whispers.

You look up at him, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Yes, please.”

Alejandro doesn’t need any more encouragement, immediately sliding his hand to cup the back of your head and bring your lips to his. Everything about you is soft. Your lips, the breathy moans, your flowery scent. You're a little shy at first, giving him only light presses of your lips and swiping the tip of your tongue on his bottom lip. Your hands travel up to grip his thick hair and you become more emboldened. Alejandro groans into your mouth, feeling you suck on his bottom lip.

He presses his tongue on your bottom lip, managing to swipe the tip of your tongue. You let out a squeak and open your mouth more, pressing your tongue on his. Alejandro’s hands slide down your waist to cup your ass and bring you right into his hard bulge. Pressing your back into the counter, he lifts your thigh to wrap it around your waist and grind his erection on your pussy. You moan and bite his lower lip from the stimulation. His hand travels up your thigh but he finds no panties. The only thing separating you two is his linen pajama pants.

He brings his hand to your front, touching your inner thigh and feeling the sticky wetness coating the skin. Alejandro pulls back from the kiss,” Is this okay? Do you want to keep going?”

Your eyes are glassy and wild. You nod but he shakes his head, ”words, nena. Please.”

“Yes, Ale. Please, please don’t stop.” you plead.

“Not here, not in the kitchen. Come on.”

He turns to make sure the stove is turned off and grabs your hand to lead you out of the kitchen. In less than a minute you're lightly thrown on his bed. You sit up, taking off the robe and reaching for the end of your nightgown. You pull it over your head and throw it to the side with your discarded robe and slippers.

“Mi nena, hermosa,” he says. [beautiful]

Even in the moonlight, Alejandro can see your pretty tits and soft thighs. He quickly pulls down his pajama bottoms, smirking the moment your eyes widen when you take in his size.

“Wait, Ale. I–I don’t know if that’ll fit–”

“Don’t worry nena, it will.”

Alejandro climbs on the bed and covers your body with his. He presses his lips on yours again, using one hand to slide over your chest and pinch your nipples. You press your chest up in his hand and bring up your thigh to wrap around his waist. He stops you from grinding into his hard cock, knowing if he feels the wet heat he’ll finish before you two have even started. Alejandro breaks the kiss and immediately attacks your neck with kisses and bites. You begin to giggle which confuses him.

“Your beard is scratching–ooohh–”

He shuts you up by dragging his tongue up your throat. You once again try to grind up but he slaps your inner thigh and mutters a stern no, compórtarte. [behave]

He moves further down, sucking and pinching your nipples until they’re swollen and wet with his saliva. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, tilting his head to slightly stretch your nipple, then releases it with a pop. You arch your back and whine at the sensation.

“You like that?”

“Yeah, Ale–fuck–”

He does it to the other nipple, biting a little harder than necessary once he feels the sting of your nails in his scalp. You pull and grip at his hair while he covers your chest in kisses. Alejandro bites and drags his teeth on the soft skin of your belly until he reaches your mound. Using his big hands, he spreads open your thighs. His mouth waters at the sight. Slick wetness covers your puffy pussy lips. Your clit looks swollen and begging for his tongue.

Alejandro runs his index finger from your inner thigh, collecting the wetness. “Eres tan hermosa,” he whispers. [You are so beautiful]

He uses his broad shoulders to keep your spread open. Using two fingers, Alejandro spreads your folds and presses the tip of his tongue to your drooling hole. The sweet taste invades his tongue and he can’t help but moan into your cunt. He latches his mouth to you, shoving his tongue inside of your warm entrance. You pull at his hair, the slight sting on his scalp only encouraging him more.

“Ale, just like that–oh, fuck,” you chant.

Alejandro drags his tongue to your neglected clit, flicking it with hard strokes. Your hips twitch and grind on his face. He slips a finger into your entrance, marveling at how warm and slick you are. He grinds his cock on the edge of the bed, imagining how it will feel wrapped around him. He feasts like a man starved, sucking at your swollen clit then dragging his tongue through your folds and back down to your little hole. Your scent and taste is in his mouth, on his beard, on his skin.

He adds another finger, memorizing every ridge of your cunt with the pads of his finger. He bumps his fingers on your g-spot, making you squeak and arch your back. Alejandro does it again, this time using the pads of his fingers to massage the spongy spot. You twist your hips and moan right there, right there, right there. Alejandro happily listens, fucking his fingers faster into you, making sure to bump that spot. You tighten and flutter around his fingers and he knows you're close.

“Are you going to come for me, nena?”

“I’m so clo–close, Ale–please”

With broad strokes of his tongue, he flicks your button over and over and over again. It doesn’t take long for you to scream his name and unravel underneath his mouth. His sucks and sucks your clit and fucks your spasming hole with his thick fingers. Your body shakes and you wrap your thighs around his head. He lets you, ready to die a happy man if you suffocate and drown him in your sweet, sticky mess.

Your thighs open limply and you push his head away,” No, no mo-more.”

Alejandro stops, pressing a kiss to your thigh and covering your body with his. Your head is pressed on the pillows, eyes closed. He grips your jaw and forces your mouth open. You open your eyes and stick out your tongue, moaning when he pushes his wet fingers into your mouth. You close your mouth and suck his fingers clean, pulses of heat shooting directly to his hard cock.

Once he’s satisfied, Alejandro removes his fingers and wipes your saliva on his dick. He grips and pumps his cock with his hand to alleviate some of the pressure. You prop yourself up on an elbow and reach a hand to stroke him. He throws his head back with a husky sigh and lets you touch him with soft fingers. You grip him, barely able to wrap your hand all the way around.

“You’re so, you’re so velvety,” you whisper.

It’s Alejandro’s turn to chuckle this time, finding your comment funny.

“No more playing, let me fuck you.” He responds.

You quickly nod and let go, letting him place your ankle on his shoulder and spread out your other thigh. He grips himself again and notches the head of his cock to your messy entrance. Alejandro presses in slowly, letting you adjust to his size. As his thick head plunges into you, he grabs your hand and squeezes. You shut your eyes and press your face into the pillow, squeezing his hand back. Alejandro slaps your inner thigh, drawing out a whine from your mouth.

“No me quites los ojos de encima.” [Keep your eyes on me]

With your attention back on him, you whimper, “yes, Ale.”

He fucks you with his tip, slow and methodical. Alejandro pulls out and sees your slick cover his mushroom head. You whimper at the loss, twisting your hips to try to fuck yourself onto him.

“You want more, nena? Think you can take it all?”

“I can, Ale! I promise.”

Alejandro plunges in with a single thrust, sheathing his cock in your pulsing heat. He turns his head and bites the skin at your ankle, overcome by the pleasure. You squeeze his hand and use your other to pinch your nipples. Not waiting for him to continue, you begin moving your hips in tiny circles. Shocks of heat start at the base of his spine and Alejandro does his best to force down his orgasm, not ready to come yet.

He watches you pull and tug at your nipples while you twitch on his cock. With his breathing under control, Alejandro slides out and plunges back in. He reaches the end of you, each bump and ridge of your pussy massaging his length.

“Dios, that’s–that’s perfect.” He groans.

He finds a nice rhythm, one that has you bouncing back into him. You let go of his hand and bring it up to your face, sucking his index finger into your mouth. The look on your face his him fucking you faster. You look up at him with scrunched eyebrows and wet eyes. He sees tears pool into the corners of your eyes from the pleasure. His otherwise quiet room is filled with groans and the wet slap of his hips.

“Perfect—little—pussy,” he growls while pounding into you.

Alejandro pulls his index finger out of your mouth and switches it with his thumb. He looks down to see your joined bodies and finds your slick covering the short hair at his base. He watches the plunge of his cock into your cunt, wondering how he survived for so long without you. He can only hope you let him do this over and over and over again.

Alejandro doesn’t think he can let you go back to your own life after this night. No, we belong together. He pops out his thumb from your mouth and brings it to your clit, his orgasm quickly approaching. You grind your hips and scratch at any of his skin you can reach. Ale, I’m so close. Ale, I’m so close. The words I love you are on the tip of his tongue but before he can say anything, you grip his cock tight with your warm heat and come apart.

He moves your leg off his shoulder and quickly wraps it around his waist, leaning down to swallow your moans. You bite and whimper into his mouth while gripping his hair. He keeps pounding into you, slamming his hips until his own orgasm overtakes him. He fills you up with his seed, painting and marking your cunt as his. Alejandro keeps going until his knees give out and his cock begs him to stop from the overstimulation.

He falls halfway on top of you, making sure not to smother you with his full weight. You stay quiet with eyes closed for a few minutes and only move to link your hand in his. His breathing returns to normal and he moves his head to look at you. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each breath you take. On shaky legs, he stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be back. Stay here, okay?”

You open one eye slightly and smile at him. “Okay.”

He uses his discarded pants to wipe his slick cock then walks back to the kitchen for a glass of water. He drinks a glass himself, and when he’s done he refills the same glass for you. He comes back to his room to see you sitting yourself up. Alejandro has you sit and drink the entire glass of water, going as far as to hold the glass while you drink. Once done, he walks into his bathroom and wets a washcloth. You try to clean yourself up, but Alejandro gives you a stern look and has you lie down while he runs to cloth over your swollen pussy.

“Will you sleep here with me?” He asks once he’s thrown his pajama pants and washcloth in the clothes hamper.

You give him a sweet smile, “yes.”

- - -

Sunday morning comes and even though he fell asleep way past midnight, his internal clock wakes him up before the sun rises. You’re asleep, one leg thrown over his waist and your head on his chest. He runs his fingers down your back and up your shoulders. Alejandro takes a moment to think about what happened. He can’t, won’t, and simply doesn’t want to go back to how things were before. Maybe he won’t tell you he loves you yet, but he will soon. Alejandro has tried to ignore his feelings about this relationship. And while technically it might be fake, to him it seems very real.

You stir in his arms, lifting your head up to press a kiss on his jaw. “Morning, cowboy.”

“Shh,” he responds, ”go back to sleep, nena.”

You drag your body up more and press a kiss to his mouth. He lets you, immediately engulfed in your warm scent. You lean back and move your head to look out the window. It’s almost sunrise, the dark purple sky beginning to turn red.

“Will you go to the couch with me?”

Never one to miss a sunrise, you and him sit on the couch wrapped in a blanket. You sit in his lap, facing him while bouncing lightly on his cock. Alejandro leans on the arm rest and grips your hips while you grind down. He tried to stop you, thinking you must be aching from the night before. But you begged him with your pretty eyes and told him you would go slow. The sun rises in the background while you come in his lap, Alejandro sucking your nipples and immediately filling you up with his own spend.

You two nap for a while on the sofa, his cock resting deep in your cunt. Alejandro eventually drags you to the shower where he washes and pets every inch of your body. He makes you breakfast and has you sit at the dining table until he’s done. Wearing nothing but your robe, you sit on his lap and let him feed you. Your dripping pussy wets the front of his pajama pants but he forces you to take another nap on the couch.

Alejandro wakes you up an hour later, lapping at your perfect cunt and bringing you to another orgasm. He fucks you full of more come then drags you back to his bed for the rest of the afternoon. You kiss and lick into each other’s mouth for who knows how long. The TV plays movie after movie in the background.

Alejandro only stops once he hears your stomach grumble. He once again has you sit and do nothing as he prepares dinner. His mouth is swollen and his cock aches from his many orgasms, but he wishes he had another day alone with you. With Monday approaching soon, he’s not ready to go back to reality. You two haven’t even talked about what this means for your relationship.

But he can’t miss work and he shouldn't really have taken this weekend off to begin with. He doesn’t regret taking these two days off, but León is still on the loose in Las Almas. He sits you down in his lap and feeds you with his fingers. Once you’ve both showered again and brushed your teeth, Alejandro leads you to his bed. You sleep in his arms again, your lips swollen from his kisses.

- - -

Reader’s P.O.V.

Alejandro fucks you again in the morning. He fills you up with his warm release once you’ve come on his thick cock. We’ll talk later, okay? he says while tucking you underneath his covers.

You get ready for work with a silly smile on your face, in shock that a single night and day could change so much between you two. Your pussy aches deliciously, and you know you’ll have to take a break from sex for a few days. But you regret none of it. You’re not sure what happens now, but there’s a shift between the two of you. You’re certain Alejandro feels the same way.

You’re in such a good mood that you decide to treat your coworkers to coffee and pastries from the local cafe. Walking out of the boutique, you look for your escolta, also wanting to buy him something and have him walk with you. He’ll usually wait across the small street in the benches or on the other side of the boutique, but you don’t see him anywhere. Thinking that maybe he’s patrolling a different area, you decide to walk to the cafe.

Alejandro told you to never leave without his soldier following you, but with it being broad daylight, you don’t think you have to worry. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you smile once you see its a text from Alejandro.

Ale: Hi, mi nena. I’m going to be home late. Sleep in my bed tonight so we can wake up together, please. We’ll talk tomorrow after work.

11:38 A.M.

You: hi my cowboy 🤠😋

okay i will! please be safe 💗 i want to see you concussion-free in the morning

11:39 A.M.

You turn the corner, smiling at your phone. Maybe it's because you’re distracted by the little bubble that shows Alejandro is typing, or maybe it’s because he’s quick and quiet that you don’t notice León coming up behind you. Before you can react, he wraps a chloroform covered rag to your face. You struggle and hold your breath as much as you can, moving your foot back to stomp on his foot and elbow him in the stomach. Your phone falls to the ground and you manage to escape his hold, immediately running back to the boutique.

“Help, help me—“ you scream.

He’s much faster than you, immediately tackling you to the ground. The force of the fall bounces your head on the pavement and it instantly knocks you out cold. In just a few seconds, he throws you in the trunk of his car and drives off. The owner of the cafe and an employee from the corner store run out as they hear the screams. They don’t see anything, only finding your broken phone on the ground.

part 1 | part 3 [epilogue] main masterlist

Taglist: @glitterypirateduck

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 x female reader #alejandro vargas #cod mw2 smut #shadowlali #mqu

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