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austinbutlerslovers · 4 months ago

Text

Devotion

Label 18+

Summary Your Na-Baron Feyd Rautha becomes dangerously obsessed with you, consumed by a need to have you entirely to himself—until a fateful event forces him to choose between his desire for you and his legacy.

Part 1 🔗Obsession for the wedding

🚨Depraved Smut🚨 Feyd feral • obsessive • constant claiming • Feyd impatient • oral on fem • nipple play • clit play •words of devotion • body praise • sex on a ceremonial table • sex after a battle • rough sex • missionary • girl on top • breeding kink • lactation kink • thigh rutting • Feyd jealous • multiple orgasms • creampies 🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proofreaders @purejasmine @magicovento @psycheetamore ✨Inspired and dedicated to @lokisnapemalfoy 🗳️ Based on Unanimous 🔗 Poll Decision 🏆

🏆 1st Devotion 2nd Daddy’s Doll 3rd Love/Hate 4th Wild Hearts. *Special thanks for voting 😍 & enjoy the upcoming fics!🤩 🗳️

Devotion

The Harkonnens were never content to leave their future to chance. For centuries, their breeding practices had been as meticulous and calculated as their rise to power.

The Baron himself was the architect of these plans, ensuring that the Harkonnen bloodline remained as ruthless and potent as the poisons they used to eliminate their enemies.

The philosophy was simple: strength and ambition above all else, ruthlessness and cunning embedded in every generation.

When Feyd Rautha was born, he was hailed as the progeny of this breeding program,a perfect specimen of Harkonnen genetics.

His childhood was molded not by love but by calculated cruelty, ensuring he would grow into the precise tool the bloodline needed.

His beauty, his intelligence, and his lethal instincts were all results of an unforgiving strategy to create an heir who could dominate not only Giedi Prime, but the galaxy itself.

But the Harkonnen obsession with breeding didn’t end with Feyd. The Baron viewed every union as a transaction, every offspring as a pawn to be used in his intricate web of power.

Alliances were forged through bloodlines, with matches calculated for maximum political and genetic advantage.

You would be the first female to bear a Harkonnen heir, and were scrutinized for your lineage, physical strength, and intelligence.

The Baron had manipulated your ruling planet to approve the match, believing it would ensure a viable heir and secure his nephew’s position.

The union was never about love or even desire; it was about creating the perfect Harkonnen progeny, an heir born of cruelty, strength, and unyielding ambition.

It was a calculated transaction, a means to secure the future of House Harkonnen in the brutal game of power and dominance.

But the Baron, in all his scheming, underestimated one thing.

He didn’t know you.

You were no pawn in their dark schemes—every move you made, every choice you accepted, was driven by one singular desire:

You wanted Feyd-Rautha

From the moment you first laid eyes on him, you were bound to him.

When the Harkonnens arrived on your homeworld, flanked by imposing guards and the ever-watchful Baron to negotiate with your father, the bargain was sealed before the terms were even spoken

The Harkonnen presence was suffocating, their power overwhelming, but it was Feyd who drew your attention.

There was something in his dark intensity, the sharpness of his gaze, and the lethal grace of his movements that captivated you completely.

You saw the danger in him, the cruelty, but it only deepened your fascination.

As the negotiations wore on, you realized you were not being forced into the agreement—you were entering it willingly.

You were lured by the darkness that surrounded Feyd, and you knew you would surrender everything to be his.

After the grim Harkonnen wedding traditions of Blood Binding, the Trail of Chains, and the Bending of the Will—you belonged to him completely.

From your wedding night until the first light of dawn, you gave yourselves to each other, surrendering in ways neither of you had anticipated, driven by pure unspoken obsession.

Though he once seemed so incapable of love, over time the calculating and cruel Feyd Rautha began to surrender himself to you, piece by reluctant piece.

The Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, underwent a remarkable transformation since you became his Baroness.

The arrogant grin that once promised manipulation and danger now softens every time he looks at you, a rare tenderness breaking through his hardened exterior.

Instead of being bound by silent obedience to duty, you find yourselves infatuated with each other—an obsession that neither of you can resist nor wants to control.

Now, as you sit before the Baron in a meeting about your recent union, you are both restless beneath the oppressive weight of politics.

Seated across the long obsidian table, you and Feyd exchange stolen glances, the heat between you simmering just beneath the surface.

The sharp planes of his face are illuminated by the cold artificial lighting, his lips forming a signature smirk every time your eyes meet his.

Beneath his polished veneer of diplomacy, something far deeper stirs in Feyd as his gaze roams over you possessively, making it clear what he wants.

His jaw clenches in a way that makes your pulse quicken.

You know that look.

It’s the silent promise of what’s to come.

You try to focus on the Baron’s voice droning on about the future of House Harkonnen, but the weight of Feyd’s stare burns into you, his fingers drumming impatiently against the table.

By the time the meeting ends, the tension between you is unbearable.

No sooner than the words have left the Baron’s lips concluding the meeting than Feyd is on his feet, striding purposefully toward you.

His hand finds your wrist, his grip firm and commanding as he leads you through the fortress corridors with swift, measured steps.

His silence is more telling than any words as your heart pounds in anticipation.

He shoves open a heavy steel door to a separate hall, dragging you inside before kicking it shut behind him.

The echo reverberates through the chamber, and before you can catch your breath, Feyd’s mouth is on yours.

The air is cold, but you barely feel it as he presses you against the ceremonial table in the room’s center, the harsh edges digging into your thighs.

“I could not wait,” he rasps, his lips claiming yours in a demanding kiss, the force of it nearly bruising.

You whimper into his mouth as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your gown higher in a frantic search for skin.

When his fingers graze your bare flesh, a low groan fills his chest.

“You’ve worn nothing to keep me from you,” he rasps, his voice thick with need as his fingertips trace along your wetness.

You gaze into his blue eyes—sharp and vivid, unmatched by anything on Giedi Prime’s dark expanse, “Nothing could keep me from you,” you whisper pulling him into another searing kiss.

His hands grip your hips as he hoists you onto the table with effortless strength, your body yielding as he steps between your legs.

His kiss turns messy, his lips parting against yours as his tongue slides in, devouring you in ways that make your heart race.

You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers trailing into the intricate design of his pendant as his movements become methodical undoing his fastener, driven by a hunger neither of you can suppress.

“I will claim every part of you,” he rasps, savoring the evidence of your desire as his hands slide to your hips, fingers pressing hard into the soft flesh.

With a possessive grip, he thrusts in sharply, a desperate plunge that fills you with a raw, searing heat that borders on pain.

His length forces its way deep inside your body as you give in to the relentless sensation.

His hand grasps the back of your neck as he penetrates you fully, your breath catching as a satisfied moan escapes your lips.

His blue eyes meet yours, and for a fleeting moment, all of his arrogance and cruelty falls away.

His lips part, as his pupils dilate, and his face softens in a rare moment of unguarded bliss.

The way he looks at you in that instant, like you are the only thing in the universe steals your breath away.

“You are mine,” he whispers reverently, his lips pressing against yours as he slowly begins thrusting his cock deep inside.

You moan as he takes what’s his, reaching for his face, cupping his sharp jawline as he leans into your touch, his lips claiming yours in a rough, desperate kiss.

The stone walls of the fortress echo with your moans and the sharp, guttural sounds Feyd makes as he takes you.

It is his domain, his right, yet in moments when his passion subsides, when he cradles your face with a gentleness that no one else will ever see, when he brushes his lips across yours in reverence whispering your name like a vow, the cruel and calculating Na-Baron is nowhere to be found as he becomes entirely yours.

No place within the Harkonnen fortress or even the cold steel corridors of his warships remain untouched by the echoes of your passion.

As newlyweds, the intimacy between you is endless, and insatiable, a hunger that neither of you can resist.

The tension that once simmered beneath the surface gives way to an all-consuming need, and with every stolen kiss every hidden moment of intimacy, Feyd becomes more entwined with you—so deeply, so thoroughly, that he begins to lose himself.

His hunger for you becomes an obsession, a need that overrides his cunning nature, making him reckless, distracted.

And then, one night, something in him shifts entirely.

Feyd had been gone for weeks, sent on a brutal campaign to crush a lingering rebellion on the outskirts of Arrakis. The mission was relentless, hunting down insurgents through the planet’s caverns.

He relished the slaughter, the thrill of the fight, but something clawed at him beneath the surface. No matter how many bodies fell at his feet, no matter how much blood stained his blade, his thoughts always drifted back to you.

You, soft and waiting in his chambers, you untouched by any one but him. The thought of you is the only thing that soothed the rage simmering beneath his skin, the only thing that made the relentless crusade tolerable.

And now, as he strides through the fortress halls returned from his mission his mind is on one singular focus.

You.

His boots echo against the polished stone floors, his presence commanding as guards and servants alike step out of his way without a word.

His face is hard, his muscles tense with an impatience that only grows stronger the closer he gets to his quarters.

He doesn’t knock. He never does, the door opens with a forceful shove, and there you are waiting for him just as he had envisioned.

You stand in the dim glow of his chamber, draped in a delicate silk robe that clings to your form, tied loosely down the front in anticipation of him undoing it.

When word had reached you of his return aboard his Ravager, you immediately prepared yourself to see him, and now, as he stands before you, the intensity of him sets your heart ablaze.

He is clad in the stark, angular lines of his Harkonnen Warlord uniform, black as the void and edged with argent, the fabric clinging to his broad shoulders and tapering down to his lean waist.

The harshness of the attire only sharpens his beauty—his full lips parting as he takes you in, his blue eyes piercing like the ice of some distant planet with a heat that defies their cool hue.

He is the epitome of command and power, the sculpt of his face so handsome it feels like he is a blade honed to perfection.

Your smile is soft and welcoming, a quiet glow of happiness at seeing him again. But the glint in his sharp blue eyes tells you he’s missed you far more than you’ve missed him.

“You have returned,” you breathe, but you barely get the words out before he’s on you, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you flush against his battle-hardened body.

His lips crash into yours with a desperate hunger, devouring you with a need that is raw and filled with longing.

Before you can react, he lifts you effortlessly in his arms as he carries you to the bed, laying you down with determination.

He only takes a moment to look at you, his gaze dark, reverent, his chest rising and falling in heavy anticipation.

“I have craved you” he whispers, his voice a hushed confession as his fingers pull at the lace of your gown, his mouth claiming yours again with a fierce hunger.

He kisses a trail down your neck, his lips hot and wet as he sucks heavily to leave marks for himself.

You gasp as his hands slide down your waist, fingers digging in possessively as he lowers himself, his mouth following the same path.

“I must savor you,” he whispers, his voice rough and low as his hands tear your gown free, exposing you to him.

And then, with effortless strength, he lifts your legs over his shoulders, holding your thighs on him as his breath fans over your skin.

The first flick of his tongue has you arching against him, your fingers grasping the silk sheets beneath you, reaching for anything, to ground yourself.

The pleasure is sharp, intoxicating, and as he delves deeper, his grip tightens on your thighs, holding you still as he works you open with unrelenting precision.

You moan as his tongue flicks against your clit before dragging down, slipping between your folds, tasting every inch of you with torturous intent.

Your body shudders, the sharp gasps spilling from your lips turning into a desperate moans as his tongue moves faster, stroking, coaxing, driving you higher.

Your hips push instinctively against his face until his hands tighten, pressing you firmly onto the bed and he holds you still as he devours you with ravenous sweeps of his tongue.

Your body writhes beneath him, your nails dragging against the sheets as your moans rise higher, desperate, uncontrollable.

He groans against you, his voice rough as his mouth seals over you, sucking hard before his tongue flicks in with relentless strokes, sending surges of pleasure racing though your core.

Your thighs tremble, threatening to close around his head, but he only buries his face deeper his tongue plunging in with unrelenting force.

Your back arch off the bed the tension coiling impossibly tighter inside you.

“Feyd—” you plead in a desperate breathless cry, placing your hands on his head as your body tightens, every muscle locking up as the pleasure peaks.

Your release crashes through you like a tidal force and Feyd groans into you, drinking it, lapping it up with a feral intensity that leaves you shaking in his grasp.

You lay panting beneath him as he rises above you, his lips glistening with your pleasure.

Without a word, he strips off his surcoat, the glow of the chamber’s dim lighting casting shadows over the definition of his pale muscles, every ridge and line carved to perfection.

His chiseled chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his hunger for you burning in his eyes as he moves over you.

“How long have you endured since I have bound you to me?” he asks, his voice low and rough like gravel, a glint of possession flickering in his gaze as his fingers trace your skin.

“An..eternity,” you reply with soft breaths, your words sparking a fire in him that nearly destroys his composure, his breath catching as his control frays.

You crave him like this—feral, unhinged, completely yours.

He climbs on top of you, his weight pressing you down, his skin hot against yours. His hands pin your wrists as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with dangerous devotion.

“I can not escape you,” he confesses as he lowers his mouth to the curve of your breast. “Not for an instant have you left my mind,” he whispers, his lips brushing over your nipple before gently sucking it into his mouth.

His teeth tense with a punishing force, needing to make you feel what he feels. Then as you whimper his tongue soothes, licking gently, as if to atone for his obsession.

His hands slide down your arms around your breasts, kneading and squeezing as he claims them possessively.

Then his thumbs flick over your nipples, before his mouth follows, hot and relentless, his tongue licking heavily as he savors what he wants.

Your fingers trail over his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, needing him just as much as he needs you, and he groans in response, pressing himself harder against you.

“You have missed me,” he whispers, his voice rough with certainty.

His hips shift as he lines himself up, and your eyes drop between your bodies, taking in the sight of his cock, thick and rigid, heavy with an aching need for you.

Your fingers slide down his chest, grazing over the defined ridges of his abs before wrapping around the base of his cock.

His breath catches, a low groan escaping his throat as you stroke him slowly, feeling the heat and weight of him in your hand.

“I have missed you,” you whisper in return, your voice filled with longing, your eyes locking onto his.

There’s no patience in him now, only the need to claim you, the need you to remind you that you are his.

His lips seize your mouth in a kiss that steals your breath as he nudges your legs apart, settling between them, his cock pressing against you.

He drags the head along your slick center, collecting your wetness with each slow, measured stroke, making you arch into him, making your body beg for more.

Then he thrusts his thick cock inside, drawing soft whimpers from you as your nails drag down his back, your pleading eyes locked on to his feeling him stake his claim.

Your slick walls tighten around him as he pushes in deeper, a rush of pleasure flooding your core as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation.

His thrusts are slow, methodical, but with each roll of his hips, his need sharpens. His hand slides up to grip your jaw, forcing your gaze to stay on his as he drives into you with a primal urge to breed.

It feels impossible that he can go any harder, but he does, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you that leave you trembling.

“I want you swollen with what is mine,” he rasps, his thrusts growing more intense, his need for you all consuming.

His pace quickens, his hips snapping as he angles deeper, making you shudder and gasp clinging to him harder.

He groans your name, low and wrecked, lost in a pleasure that no one else has ever made him feel, and the sound of his voice, the raw, helpless way he gives himself to you makes you come undone.

Broken moans spill from your lips as he thrusts into you, relentlessly, ravenously, feeling you orgasm against him, each movement dragging more pleasure from you as you lie beneath him.

His grip slides to your hips, his muscles flexing with every thrust, groaning as he feels the depths of you that only he can claim.

His eyes, dark and fevered, lock onto yours- his pleasure raw and unrestrained, his body moving with one sole purpose.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow and his thrusts become desperate, punishing, consuming, as if the idea of stopping is unthinkable.

“Feyd,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your voice a tether in his chaos. “Give yourself to me.”

He tilts his head back as your words reach him and a groan of surrender tears from his throat. His rhythm falters under the weight of your command, and he thrusts once, twice more, before he spills into you, the heat of his seed flooding through your core.

The sight of his face and the way his mouth parts as his eyes darken with ecstasy, fills you with a devotion that leaves you entirely his.

He slowly collapses onto you, his body heavy and warm, his breath coming in ragged pants against your skin.

His lips find your chest, pressing soft, dazed kisses between your breasts as he basks in the aftermath.

“You have ruined me,” he murmurs, his voice drowsy as his fingers trace lazy circles over your skin.

“You are not ruined,” you reply, trailing your fingers over his neck. “You are mine.”

He hums softly at that, his lips curving into a rare smile as he leans up to kiss you again, slower this time, tender in a way that feels almost out of place for a Harkonnen.

In these moments, Feyd Rautha, the cruel and calculating Na Baron becomes something else entirely.

He becomes yours.

As he drifts to sleep in your arms, you know that you have satisfied him in every way imaginable, leaving him soft, surrendered, and completely undone by the force of your love.

It comes as no surprise when the proclamation is made that you are bearing the seed of House Harkonnen.

The fortress hums with whispers of your impending role, the air thick with the weight of expectation and legacy.

The Harkonnen bloodline, ruthless and unyielding, will continue through you, and the realization settles over you that you have fulfilled your role to Feyd in every way.

You are beyond obsessed with him, though you try to hide it. The thought of him fills your mind, even when he is not near, and as your pregnancy progresses, his attachment to you deepens in ways that even he cannot even fully understand.

You carry the life you created together, a new chapter in the blood-soaked lineage of the Harkonnens, and as your body becomes heavier with the weight of your unborn child, you become Feyds object of fascination.

His gaze lingers every time you are near, a curiosity so raw it seems to surprise even him. Every swell, every change in your form draws him closer, as though the transformation within you stirs something deep and primal in himself.

In the final days of your pregnancy, a ceremony takes place deep within the fortress.

It is held in a grand shrine carved from obsidian, lined with cruel, jagged relics of past conquests.

Shadows dance along the towering walls, cast by the flickering glow of fire pits filled with thick incense that clings sweetly to your lungs with every breath.

The air is heavy, suffocating, charged with an ancient energy that feels both sacred and oppressive.

The only two males present in the vast, echoing chamber are the Baron and Feyd.

You are dressed in a black opulent gown lined with dark obsidian crystals, your entire body veiled save for your lower face and hands.

This is a sacred time in your pregnancy, mere days from birth. The fabric clings to your form, accentuating the curve of your swollen belly, a visible testament to the life growing inside you.

A heavy Harkonnen pendant rests at your throat, a symbolic marker of your new role within the dynasty.

Carefully, you are knelt upon a cold white stone slab as trembling female attendants gather around you.

Their heads remain bowed in submission, their hands shaking as they place a modesty cloth over your legs and slowly lift your robe to reveal only your bare belly, round and full with the future of the Harkonnen line.

They work in fearful silence, their ink-darkened fingers tracing ancient markings of fertility across your skin, binding you to the legacy you carry.

At the head of the room, the Baron lounges forward in his oversized throne, his grotesque form draped in layers of dark, rich fabric that do little to conceal his bloated mass. His beady eyes glisten with an unsettling mix of greed and cunning as he surveys your womb for the first time.

“My dearest nephew,” he rasps, his voice thick with satisfaction, “she bears the fruit of our dominion… the future of House Harkonnen.”

Feyd’s piercing gaze never strays from you, fixed on the swell of your body that carries his heir.

There is something raw in his eyes, an infatuation bordering on obsession, a hunger so possessive it sends a shiver down your spine.

His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to touch you, to claim you, even here, even now, in front of them all.

The Harkonnen Shaman enters the chamber and steps forward, cloaked in dark robes adorned with symbols of death and rebirth. His voice is low and resonant, each word deliberate, steeped in ancient authority.

“You now bear the fruit of life,” he chants, his withered hand hovering over your belly, as if feeling the of the life within. “And it is life’s blood that shall nourish it.”

A ceremonial basin rests ominously on the altar beside you, filled with a viscous substance, and your heartbeat quickens as the Shaman gestures toward it.

Feyd steps forward, his breath heavy, the tension in his body coiled tight with unspoken obligation.

Without hesitation, he lowers his fingers into the liquid, the thick red substance clinging to them as he lifts his hand.

His dark eyes meet yours, and without breaking contact, he brings his fingers to your womb.

“Seal our future,” he says, hushed and commanding, laced with something deeper—something desperate. “Deliver our heir,” he whispers.

Your skin prickles with anticipation and fear, but beneath it all, a dark thrill stirs within you.

The weight of Feyd’s gaze, the feel of his touch, it’s intoxicating, binding you to him in ways you could never comprehend.

Feyd watches intently, his blue eyes dark with fascination as he draws the ancient marking of his bloodline over your womb, staining your skin as the Shaman watches approvingly.

Whispers ripple through the chamber as the Baron’s grin widens in grotesque delight.

Feyd works methodically, each stroke pressing the significance of this moment deeper into your soul.

When the markings are complete, the Shaman raises his arms, his voice rising as it echoes through the vast chamber. “The oath has been written. The heir will be strategic and cunning and will bring forth powerful alliances to House Harkonnen.”

The Baron lets out a thrilled laugh, his thick hands clapping together in arrogant satisfaction, his eyes darting between you and Feyd.

“Strategic and cunning indeed,” he praises, his voice laced with dark approval and greed.

Feyd says nothing, but his eyes remain locked on you, unreadable yet intense, the weight of his gaze speaking far more than words ever could.

The ceremony is strange and overwhelming, yet beneath it all, something within you shifts irrevocably.

You are no longer just a vessel, you are part of something far greater, something ancient and unstoppable.

You belong to Feyd, to the future you now carry, and to the darkness that binds you both.

Late at night after the ceremony, under the pale light of Giedi Prime’s twin moons, you rest in your chamber, the heavy silence pressing in around you.

The bed beneath you is vast, adorned with dark silks, the headboard emblazoned with the sigil of House Harkonnen, yet it feels empty, foreign, without Feyd’s warmth beside you.

For the first time, you have been sent to separate sleeping quarters, a symbolic tradition meant to mark the transition from union to lineage.

Unable to sleep, you open your eyes to see Feyd standing in the doorway bathed in the cold glow of the twin moons filtering through the towering windows.

His tall form remains still as he leans one shoulder against the doorway, watching you rest, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes fixed solely on you.

With the birth only days away, he is forbidden from seeing you, a decree meant to protect your fragility in these final moments.

But as his eyes search yours with longing, you see he can not bear it.

In an unmistakable act of defiance he approaches you slowly, as if he is afraid to disturb the quiet sanctity of the moment.

His hands, used as instruments of destruction, are gentle as they trace the swell of your belly.

“I never dreamed this,” he rasps, his voice carrying an unfamiliar vulnerability. “That I could create something… pure.”

He lowers himself to you, his movements almost worshipful as his hands splay protectively over your womb.

“I crave what your body has become,” he whispers, his voice thick with awe and desire as his fingers trace reverently over your curves in worship of them.

“Every change of your form is so perfect,” he praises, his lips meeting the sensitive skin of your neck as his hand moves lower, caressing the swell of your womb.

“Your nuturing body… your sustenance…” he rasps, his fingers tracing the soft fullness of your breast.

He trails his lips lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone until he reaches the peak of your breast.

His mouth hovers just above your nipple,his breath fanning over the sensitive skin as his dark eyes flick up to meet yours.

He hesitates, waiting, testing, then with a quiet groan of surrender, he seals his lips around it.

A quiet moan falls from your lips as his tongue rolls against your nipple, coaxing, teasing.

His first pull is firm yet careful, his mouth working gently, as though he fears you will break the fragile connection.

A tingling warmth blooms at the peak of your breast, spreading through your chest, as if something deep within you responds to him, awakening, yielding.

It’s primal, instinctive, as though your body knows what he wants before your mind fully registers it.

The tenderness of his mouth trying to pull milk leaves you vulnerable. What he is doing feels forbidden, yet the sight of him, his lashes fluttering as he tries to drink from you, makes it impossible to stop him.

Your nipple hardens under the stimulation, the sensation growing sharper, hotter, your breast swelling with heat as he sucks deeper.

A soft gasp escapes you as he switches to the other, his mouth latching with purpose, his breaths warm against your skin.

He groans with frustration low in his throat, his fingers squeezing the soft swell of your other breast as if urging your body to give him what he craves.

And then you see it—a slow droplet of milk rolling from your nipple.

His hum of satisfaction vibrates against your chest, deep and resounding as the first taste of your sweet milk warmly coats his tongue.

His fingers tighten possessively around your breast as a shudder runs through him, feeling something primal overtaking his restraint.

The intimacy of it is overwhelming, the way his mouth works on you, his soft whimpers of his pleasure, the desperate way he drinks from you—it all becomes too much.

His suckling grows stronger, more intense, his grip tightening on your breast as he holds it drinking deeply, greedily, craving this more than he would ever admit.

His tongue laps at your nipple between deep hungry pulls, his fingers rolling over the other, coaxing more milk to leak from you to feed his growing need.

You softly stroke his face and he whines, rutting his hips against you, his arousal evident and throbbing with need. His hand reaches between you unclasping his faster to free cock and he firmly thrusts it between your slick thighs.

You softly whimper as he uses you, the slippery heat of his cock making your thighs press together. He clings to you as though tethered thrusting harder between your thighs, the slick sounds of his movements filling the quiet chamber

His hand slips between your bodies once again, this time his fingers push into your throbbing core, stroking you, coaxing more from you as your loud moans fuel his growing need.

He draws from you forcefully, the unrelenting pull of his mouth making your nipple ache as he thrusts between your thighs, his husky moans drowsy with satisfaction from both pleasures

His fingers work inside of you, deeper, firmer curling just right until you can’t hold back and a sharp cry spills from your lips as you orgasm from his intensity.

He groans against you feeling your release, his hips rutting harder and deeper until his release comes sudden and forceful, his cock twitching as it spills in thick, hot streams between your thighs

The warmth of his seed leaks slowly down your skin, as he becomes weaker, softer, drinking from you until there is nothing left, until he is too spent to take more.

As his body grows heavier beside you, his breaths shallow and his fingers slip from you, his lips barely touching your nipple as exhaustion overtakes him.

He hums as you stroke his chin, his eyes half-lidded as his lips curve into a lazy, milk-drunk smile, utterly satisfied, utterly spent.

As he looks at you his gaze lingers with something unspoken, something softer than words, as if in this moment he needs nothing but you.

As he drifts into sleep in your arms you watch him rest peacefully, his features serene in a way you’ve never known.

Each night Feyd visits you this way, and each night, his hunger seems to grow, his need for you deepening, as though he is becoming dependent on the very act

As he lies milk-drunk in your arms, you caress his temple, finally summoning the strength to confide what you’ve withheld from him for so long, your voice trembling with quiet unease.

“I fear the medical facilities here on Giedi Prime… and the Harkonnen rituals after a female gives birth,” you confess, your words faltering as you dare to resist a Harkonnen rite for the first time. “…The bloodletting of the mother to bind her strength to the child—it terrifies me,” you admit.

Feyd listens intently, not once dismissing your fears of his customs.

“I will not let them touch you,” he says, his voice resolute, low and heavy from his indulgence, carrying no trace of resistance.

The very next day he hires a skilled doula from a distant planet, sparing no expense to ensure you are comfortable.

When the night finally arrives, Feyd paces outside of the chamber like a caged beast, his brute strength shattered by the sound of your laboring cries.

Yet, when your daughter, Lily, is finally born in the intimate warmth of the birthing chamber, Feyd is the first to hold her.

His expression melts into something unrecognizable as he looks at her with pure, unrestrained joy.

His fierce hardened exterior crumbles as he stares down at the tiny life in his arms, his breath catching in his throat.

In that moment, nothing else exists. Not war, not bloodlines, not duty only her.

In the days that follow, Feyd’s initial joy slowly and unexpectedly, turns to bitterness.

Whenever he sees you nursing Lily his jaw tightens and his gaze darkens —yet he says nothing, only brooding in a corner, if not storming from the room entirely.

You can feel the weight of his longing, the frustration he refuses to voice.

Then one night, after the baby has fallen asleep, he lays in bed with you, his body tense beside yours before hesitantly confessing his desire.

“I envy her,” he admits, almost shamefully, as he trail his fingertips over your breast. “You give her something I can no longer have.”

You smile softly, caressing his cheek, “You have me“ you say soothing him but the longing in his eyes does not fade.

His hand moves lower, cupping your breast, his fingers pressing in, squeezing just enough to make his own torment worse.

His jaw clenches, his breathing uneven as he watches with dark satisfaction seeing your milk begin to soak through the fabric of your gown.

He pulls down the delicate material, baring your breast fully to his sight, your breath catching as his expression shifts, his blue eyes darkening with something deep and primal.

He squeezes until you are leaking down his hand and deep and a broken groan falls from his lips as his head dips lower, his breath hot against your skin.

“There is enough for me,” he whispers, his voice almost reverent, and before you can even think to stop him—his mouth latches onto you.

His lips seal over your nipple, his tongue rolling softly as he begins to nurse, his hand squeezing over your breast, coaxing more for him to take.

His lashes flutter in bliss, his face softened in quiet ecstasy as he drinks from you, his low hums of satisfaction vibrating against your skin as he becomes completely lost in his indulgence.

Lily’s soft cry breaks the quiet, and Feyd pulls back, his guilt shadowing his features.

He climbs out of bed and lifts her from her cradle, holding her close as if to atone for his selfishness.

“She needs you more,” he says softly, his voice breaking as he places her in your arms.

He watches her latch as he sits beside you, his gaze fixed on the tiny life between you.

As Lily struggles to nurse, he reaches out, brushing his knuckles gently against her soft cheek, encouraging her to drink.

And when she begins to suckle greedily he smiles —a true, unguarded smile that you’ve never seen before.

Over time, his love for Lily grows to match his love for you. Gone is the spoiled Na-Baron who once demanded you all to himself. Instead, Feyd becomes a doting father, personally feeding Lily as she transitions to solid food.

Each meal is a ritual, he speaks to her softly, telling her stories of bravery and caution, instilling in her the strength to carve her own path.

And every time you watch him hold your daughter, his once-imposing figure now gentle and protective, you’re reminded of how love has transformed the cruel heir into a man capable of profound devotion.

The day Lily reaches one year of age a Harkonnen ceremony marks the occasion.

You attend with Feyd to introduce her to the gathered nobles and warriors of Giedi Prime.

The ritual is dark, grand, and imposing, like everything else on this world.

The hall looms massive, lined with banners of House Harkonnen and the nobles stand in disciplined silence as Feyd carries Lily forward.

She is dressed in black and crimson, the insignia of his house emblazoned on her tiny chest.

A shaman anoints her forehead, intoning ancient words of devotion, binding her to a legacy of war and conquest. Then, with reverence, Feyd places her into the waiting arms of her grandfather, the Baron.

For the first time, the ever-calculating, grotesque Baron does not sneer or grin in mockery.

His pale blue eyes soften, overtaken by an expression no one has ever witnessed.

As he drapes the obsidian necklace around her tiny neck, she blinks up at him, wide-eyed and impossibly small in his massive arms.

Something shifts in him—unvoiced, un-calculated.

He cradles her delicate form as if she’s far too precious for a world that knows only cruelty.

In a voice quieter and raspier than usual, he vows to her, “My little Harkonnen Heiress, I will mold you to twist rulers like reeds in your grasp and we will shatter any who defy our dominion.” He grins with his ruthless satisfaction.

Then the Baron turns, proudly presenting Lily for all to see. The nobles and warriors salute in unison, the sound echoing through the chamber, cementing her place in the Harkonnen bloodline.

Through it all, you stand with Feyd, observing the ceremony with fulfillment as his fingers trace secretly down your palm, a hidden caress amid the solemnity.

“She is perfect,” he praises, his voice low, meant only for you and as his gaze lingers on yours, his sharp blue eyes glint with a ferocity that transcends the moment.

You know that look —and as his fingers tighten around your hand, you can sense the promise of his deepening desire—the unspoken vow of what’s to come

After the ceremony, you and Feyd place Lily to rest in her chamber as she sleeps from the momentous occasion.

Her crib gleams of dark obsidian, its edges carved with angular Harkonnen runes, a stark cradle of power softened by a black silk lining.

Lily lies within, her tiny form serene, skin flushed with the faintest of rose, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she breathes softly.

Feyd brushes his fingers gently across her cheek, ensuring she is peaceful taking one last look before walking the distance to your quarters, both of you still dressed in immaculate garments.

Feyd wears a sleek, black surcoat edged with crimson, the Harkonnen insignia stark against his chest, while you don a flowing gown of midnight silk, its hem embroidered with silver threads that shimmer like stars against Giedi Prime’s gloom, the cut accentuating your form with regal grace.

Once the doors shut, sealing you in silence, Feyds hand cradles your face with a gentleness that defies his strength. “You have undone me,” he says, his voice low and enamored, his blue eyes soft with awe.

His lips press reverently against yours, each kiss burning with quiet fervor, his breath grazing you like an unspoken vow.

He pulls back, his sharp blue eyes blazing with devotion as he lowers to his knees before you, his powerful frame, perfected by years of combat and conquest, submitting willfully to yours.

“Give me another,” he rasps, his voice rough with worship, his hands trailing up your hips.

“Let me feel you bloom with my seed again,” he rasps, placing his hand on your womb in a fervent plea to your dominion over him.

You smile, trailing your fingertips affectionately over his head before you slip from his grasp, leaving him kneeling.

You walk across the room, your robe trailing behind you like a lure he can’t resist, its silk whispering against the stone floor.

His sharp blue eyes follow your every move, glinting with a knowing, unreadable hunger.

“You crave another legacy to bind us deeper in this world of shadows,” you tease, eyes locking with his as he stands, his gaze drawn to you like a blade to its mark.

You lay back on the sheets, arms spread wide with a smile of invitation. “Come then,” you order, and he hesitates for only a second before disrobing.

His surcoat falls away, revealing his pale, muscular form, his broad shoulders sculpted by battle, abs ridged with power, and lean hips framing his thick, pink tipped cock, rigid and heavy with need against his pale skin.

He approaches with purpose, his hands brushing lightly over your feet, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your arch before pressing a kiss to your ankle in reverence.

“You need yet another heir to solidify your empire?” you challenge, your voice a silk caress, your gaze steady as he pauses at your words.

He climbs over you, fingers sliding and lifting your gown, kissing along your thighs with worshipful hunger before pressing his lips to your womb, lingering as if willing his seed to take root.

“You are my empire,” he rasps, his voice low and fervent, before his kisses trail upward over the fabric of your gown, pausing between your breasts, his hands parting your thighs with reverent care.

“I would conquer worlds to see you carry my blood again,” Feyd breathes, his voice husky with adoration, his warm breath fanning your skin.

His words blaze through you, sparking a fever pitch of desire, your pulse hammering as his fingers slip beneath your gown, hooking the delicate silk at your hips leaving nothing between you.

“Take me,” you whisper, urgency threading your soft command, your impatience mirroring in his own as he tears your gown apart, the midnight silk shredding under his strength.

The sight of torn fabric and the raw power in his hands sends a jolt of arousal surging through your core and his lips find yours, desperate and devouring.

His tongue brushes yours as pants and moans spill between you, the kiss deepening into a frantic need for each other.

His hands roam over your hips, your waist, your breasts, savoring curve with possessive hunger until he suddenly pulls you on top him.

His hands guide yours, placing them on either side of his head as he looks up at you, his eyes darkening with pure, unfiltered lust as he takes in the sight of you above him.

“You hold my fate,” he confesses, his hands sliding up your sides, his eyes trailing down to where your bodies will meet. “I will forge dynasties if you grant me more,” he vows, his hands gliding up your thighs and pulling you down onto him, his cock nudging hard against your slick entrance before pushing through.

You softly gasp as he fills you deep, the heat of him radiating your core, the hard length throbbing as he lowers you until the base of him settles against you.

His breath falters as your walls clench him tight, and he surrenders, his hands clutching your hips with worshipful desperation as he watches you take him.

Each slow grind on his thick cock draws sounds of satisfaction from him as his gaze fixes on where you claim him.

His hands trail up your body caressing your sides guiding you until they cup your breasts, your skin warm and flushed to his touch.

He pulls you to him with a possessive longing, guiding your breast to his mouth, his breath teasing your nipple before his lips seal around it.

A soft moan spills from your lips as his tongue flicks around it, his mouth pulling with an unrelenting need amplifying the pulsing heat of his cock inside you.

The sensation drives your hips to move faster, and he switches to the other his mouth hot and insistent, sucking stronger, harder, as you feel his moans vibrate against your skin.

“Feyd,” you whimper, your voice shaking as his lips remain latched and his hips begin surging up to meet yours in deep, unforgiving thrusts.

The sounds of your broken moans and his feral grunts mingle as he pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, leaving you gasping.

His breath is ragged as he groans, his hands seizing your hips to drive you harder onto his cock.

Your moans are unhinged desperate cries as your climax slams into you, your body quivering violently in his grasp. Your walls tighten, pulsing around him, as the pleasure overtakes you completely.

Feyd pants as he watches you, his hands gripping your hips firmly, keeping you grinding on him, dragging out your release until you can do nothing but shake and sob above him.

Then with one fluid shift, he guides you beneath him never breaking the connection, his hands hooking behind your thighs, lifting them high as he lays on top of you.

His chest presses yours as his thrusts become demanding, his hips slamming against you with ruthless intensity, the slick, wet smacks of your bodies filling the chamber, raw and unrestrained.

His face is a haze of need and lust as his cock throbs inside, swelling with each punishing stroke until his rhythm falters. A deep moan escapes him as his climax hits and his body seizes with ecstasy.

He thrusts harder, his hips jerking as thick, hot streams of his seed flood you into you and your walls milk him instinctively.

The overstimulation wrecks him as he rides out the aftershocks, his desperate grunts fading into soft, ragged breaths, until he is spent and collapses against you his chest heaving with exhaustion.

Your fingers graze his shoulders in a soothing caress as he presses drowsy kisses over your heart in quiet devotion.

“You have given me everything,” he whispers, his voice thick with reverence as he lifts to look at you, his blue eyes sharp and endless with desire.

An endearing blacked-out grin forms on his lips as your thumb brushes his chin affectionately.

“Because you are mine,” you confirm, smiling in return as you trace the sharp edge of his jaw with possessiveness.

“Forever,” he rasps, his eyes heavy with surrender, his voice fading as the vow settles between you.

On the cold, brutal world of Giedi Prime, a love you never thought possible formed in the shadows of House Harkonnen, yet remains completely untouched by its cruelty.

The ruthless and ambitious Na-Baron, who once sought only power and conquest, now finds strength in his lineage and as your womb swells with his second unborn heir, Feyds obsession deepens—his sharp blue eyes tracing your rounded form with a reverence bordering on worship.

The halls of the Harkonnen stronghold, once filled with whispers of betrayal and fear, now echo with Lily’s laughter.

He adores her—she is the only one who can make the Baron soften, the only one Feyd kneels for without question. And you, the anchor that keeps him steady, the only person he will ever truly belong to.

To the outside world, he remains a formidable force, a warrior, a ruler, a Baron who commands both fear and respect. But in the privacy of your chambers, he is simply yours.

He worships you with the same intensity he once reserved for battle, his hunger for you never waning, his devotion growing fiercer with time.

Feyd-Rautha, the once cold and callous Harkonnen, now lives for his legacy, and the woman who holds his heart forever.

END ⚔️

🔗Masterlist

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hoshifighting · 1 year ago

Text

Stripper! Reader x Business Man! Lee Chan

— Synopsis: Workaholic Lee Chan's Friday night takes an unexpected turn when he joins friends at a strip club, only to find himself captivated by you, a dancer he can't seem to stay away from. Despite his reservations, Chan finds himself drawn to your company, booking time with you night after night. — WC: 8.8k — WARNINGS: Strangers to lovers, smut, mentions of alcohol, strip clubs, money throwing, booking, fluff, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), riding, g'spot stimulation, clit stimulation, male sensitivity.

Lee Chan held the weight of being the CEO of the imperium that his dad left at a very young age. Frat parties, hanging out, late-night talks? Nah, not for him. He had to take care of the company and honor the inheritance that fell into his lap. His co-workers could remember very well the times that Chan walked around and around his office, shoulders tense as if he carried the world on them.

His days started early and ended late, filled with back-to-back meetings, strategy sessions, and endless paperwork. The once carefree and spirited young man had transformed into a focused and driven leader, his every move calculated to ensure the success and stability of the company.

Chan's office was a testament to his dedication—shelves lined with business books, awards, and framed photos of his father, a constant reminder of the legacy he was determined to uphold. The large windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, but Chan rarely had time to enjoy it. He was always too engrossed in his work, too preoccupied with the responsibilities that consumed his every waking moment.

Even though his life felt like being stuck in traffic on a rainy day, Chan couldn't deny that he loved the results of his hard work. He looked at the luxurious cars parked in his garage—sleek, powerful machines that represented the pinnacle of automotive engineering.

His closet was a veritable treasure trove of sartorial excellence. Different types of watches, ties, suits, and shoes from every high-end brand imaginable filled the space, each piece carefully chosen to reflect his impeccable taste and status. The feel of finely crafted leather shoes, the weight of a bespoke suit on his shoulders, the precision of an intricate timepiece on his wrist—all these were constant reminders of what he had achieved.

Chan's wealth allowed him to indulge in the kind of extravagances most people could only dream of. He could spend an exaggerated amount of money in a matter of seconds on something completely futile, like a super shaver with a gold coating—exotic and utterly unnecessary.

The week was ending, and Chan listened to the fuss inside his friend group about hanging out this Friday. Jeonghan, seeing his colleagues leaving their desks, noticed Chan still at his desk, tapping his fingers on the glass table. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Jeonghan approached him.

"I know it's a stupid question, but will you come with us?" he asked. Chan was usually seen only at corporate events. Jeonghan couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a beer with his friend.

Chan looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, the automatic refusal ready on his tongue, but something made him pause. He glanced around the office, now emptying out as people headed off to start their weekends. The thought of another solitary night of work made him feel a twinge of longing for something different.

"Come on, man," Jeonghan urged, sensing the hesitation. "Just one night. It’ll be fun. You need a break."

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Jeonghan was right. The constant grind was wearing him down, and maybe, just maybe, a night out with friends was exactly what he needed.

"Alright," Chan finally said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll come."

Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"

Chan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah, let's do it."

Jeonghan grinned, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit! You won't regret it."

Before they left the building, Chan paused and asked, "Jeonghan?"

"Yes?" Jeonghan answered, turning to face him.

"Where are we going?" Chan inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Jeonghan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You'll see," he said, leaving Chan to wonder what the night had in store for him.

[...]

"A strip club? You must be kidding me!" Chan exclaimed as he took in the sight of the half-dark establishment. Neon lights flickered and danced around the room, casting colorful glows on the walls. Music blasted from speakers, filling the air with a pulsating beat.

He could see several women with different curves, colors, and hairstyles, dressed in scanty outfits—or sometimes nothing at all. The atmosphere was electric, a stark contrast to the corporate environment he was used to.

Jeonghan laughed, clapping Chan on the back. "Come on, man, loosen up! It's just for fun."

Chan hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. He felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity. "I don't know, Jeonghan..."

"Relax," Jeonghan said, guiding him further inside. "We all need a break sometimes. Just enjoy the night. You deserve it."

Chan took a deep breath, deciding to go along with it. Maybe Jeonghan was right—maybe he did need this. As they found a spot to sit, Chan tried to shake off his reservations.

His friends immediately ordered bottles and bottles of soju, beer, whiskey—whatever the bar had. Chan downed his whiskey in a single gulp, exclaiming, "If my dad knew I was here..."

Chan's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Jeonghan replied, pouring more whiskey into Chan's glass. "He said every hardworking man deserves a break. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"

Chan couldn't help but laugh at that. The thought of his father, the man he idolized for his strict work ethic, letting loose in a place like this was almost too surreal.

As some of his friends disappeared one by one, Chan found himself alone on the couch they had booked. "Great," he muttered under his breath, feeling a twinge of discomfort at being left alone in such a place.

Just as he was about to sink further into the cushions, the little stage that he hadn't even noticed until now suddenly lit up. A tall pole stood in the middle, and Chan tilted his head in curiosity.

Then, a pair of really, really high heels appeared, and Chan's throat went dry. You emerged onto the stage, your skin shining under the purple light. The outfit you wore was scandalous, barely covering anything, and Chan couldn't help but notice the little glitters spread on your skin, catching the light as you moved.

You took hold of the pole and began to dance around it, moving with a grace and confidence that left Chan mesmerized. Your movements were fluid and controlled, every sway of your hips and arch of your back drawing him in deeper. It was as if you were performing just for him, and Chan felt like he could get lost in the rhythm of your dance forever.

As you held yourself up on the pole like a pro, Chan couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt like he was being swallowed by the couch, completely captivated by the sight before him. In that moment, nothing else mattered but you and the hypnotic spell you cast over him with your dance.

As you made eye contact with Chan, a devilish smile played on your lips. He looked like a new piece of meat, a pretty young man who had never been seen before in the club. You got down from the stage, the sway of your hips drawing all eyes to you as you walked towards him.

"First time here, sweetie?" you asked, laying your hands on his shoulders. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe with the view of your tits practically in his face.

"My eyes are up here," you said, chuckling as you caught him ogling your chest.

Chan blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, tearing his gaze away from your cleavage. "First time."

You chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you leaned in closer. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to show you the ropes," you said, your voice low and sultry.

"You're tense," you observe, noticing the stiffness in Chan's shoulders. Without waiting for a response, you step behind him and begin to massage his shoulders, your fingers working their magic as you knead the tension away.

Chan lets out a sigh of relief, his muscles melting under your skilled touch. "Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "Work's been... stressful lately."

You nod in understanding, continuing to work out the knots in his shoulders. "I get it," you say, your voice soothing. "But you're here now, and tonight is all about letting go of that stress and just enjoying yourself."

Chan leans back into your touch, closing his eyes as he relaxes into the sensation. "I guess you're right," he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You smile too, glad to see him starting to unwind. "That's better," you say, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his skin. "Just focus on the here and now. Forget about everything else for a while."

Chan nods.

You walk around Chan again, swaying your hips seductively in front of him. His mind races, unsure of what to do next, but before he can even think, you're sitting on his lap, circling your hips against his.

Chan smiles shyly, feeling the heat from your body as you move against him. He can't help but notice the money tucked into the sides of your little shorts, a reminder of where he is and what's expected of him.

It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once, but there's something undeniably thrilling about having you so close, your body pressed against his.

As you continue to dance, Chan's hands hover uncertainly over your hips, unsure of where to touch or how to respond. He feels a flush of embarrassment at his own inexperience, but he's determined not to let it show. Instead, he focuses on the way your body moves against his.

And you smile knowingly, sensing his hesitation, and guide his hands to your waist, encouraging him.

Chan's hands move from your waist to your hips and then down to your thigh, his fingers grazing the soft skin as he explores the contours of your body. His pulse quickens as he feels the warmth of your thigh pressed against his pocket, and he can't resist the urge to reach into his wallet and retrieve a pouch of money.

With a mischievous grin, Chan brings his hand to the top of your head, letting the notes rain down on you like confetti. You laugh, delighted by the unexpected gesture, and give him a big smile.

"What's your name?" you ask, your voice playful.

"Chan," he replies, feeling a surge of confidence.

You lick your lips, your gaze lingering on his. "Nice to meet you, Channie," you purr, the nickname, and Chan blushes.

[...]

The next Monday, Chan sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. His mind raced with a million thoughts, his thoughts still consumed by the events of that night. He was lost in his own thoughts, replaying every moment, every touch, every glance.

A knock on his door startled him out of his trance, and he quickly tried to compose himself, pretending to be engrossed in some papers spread out on his desk.

"Come in," Chan called, his voice slightly shaky.

The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped inside, giving Chan a knowing smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Chan felt a flush of embarrassment heat his cheeks. "Oh, hey Jeonghan," he replied, trying to sound casual.

Jeonghan chuckled, walking over to Chan's desk and leaning against it casually. "So, how was your night?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Chan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a suitable response. "Um, it was... interesting," he finally managed, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, huh?" he said, his tone teasing. "Well, if you ever need any pointers on how to navigate the world of strip clubs, you know who to ask."

Chan's cheeks burned even hotter, and he couldn't help but laugh at Jeonghan's playful teasing. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass," he said, relieved to have the topic of conversation shifted away from his night of unexpected adventure.

Chan spent the entire weekend consumed by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memories of your encounter at the club. As Monday rolled around, he found himself itching to see you again, the usual routine of work feeling dull and uninspired.

Deciding that today was not the day for extra hours at the office, Chan made his way to the club, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He arrived at the club, his eyes scanning the room eagerly in search of you.

As he looked around, a receptionist approached him, sensing his lost expression. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite and friendly.

Chan nodded, grateful for the assistance. "Yes, I'm looking for a girl with hair like this," he said, mimicking the length and curl of your hair with his hands.

The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you must be looking for Y/N," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Follow me, I'll take you to her."

There you were, dancing around the pole with a big smile on your face, as if you were truly enjoying every second of it. Chan watched from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and a big smile on his face as he observed you.

The club was crowded, with many people gathered around you, admiring your performance. Chan felt a pang of jealousy as he watched others vying for your attention, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

As the night wore on and people began to leave, Chan noticed you finally catching sight of him. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a playful wink, rolling your hips as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

Chan's heart skipped a beat at your playful gesture, and he couldn't help but grin back at you. Despite the crowd around you, it felt like you were dancing just for him, and in that moment, Chan felt a surge of warmth and connection unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As you took a break from dancing, you bent down to pick up some notes from the stage floor. Before you could gather them all, Chan approached, leaning on the stage with a playful grin.

"Leave it on the ground," he said, extending a big wad of money towards you. "Take it."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I didn't even have time for you today," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Did I ask?" Chan replied, his smile widening. "Take it."

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful response, taking the money from his hand. "You liked me that much, huh?" you asked, knowing full well the answer. You were well aware of the power you held.

"Hmm, I think I need to see more," Chan teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You giggled, enjoying the banter between you. "Well, if you want me all to yourself, you'll have to book," you replied with a playful wink.

Chan's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Can I book all of your agenda?" he asked eagerly.

You stood up, giving him a coy smile. "Don't be greedy, Channie," you teased, enjoying the way he looked at you with eager anticipation.

You glanced down at the wad of money in your hand, barely able to fit into your shorts, and then looked back up at Chan with a playful smile.

"Well, I think I can spare some time for you," you said, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "But just a little while."

Chan's face lit up with excitement as he nodded eagerly. "That's all I need," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

[...]

As Chan began appearing almost every day, he became a familiar face at the club, a quiet yet eager client of yours. The receptionist would often give you a knowing look, silently conveying that Chan had arrived and had booked time with you once again.

Of course, there were other loyal clients who frequented the club, but none seemed to hold the same level of fascination for you as Chan did. There was a certain shine in his eyes whenever he entered the club, a distinct aura of anticipation and eagerness that set him apart from the other customers.

You couldn't help but wonder why you had let him know about the option to book time with you. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you with such genuine interest and excitement, or maybe it was the thrill of having someone so captivated by your presence. Whatever the reason, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, eager to see where each encounter would lead.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise when Chan didn't show up for his usual visit. It was as if a small piece of the excitement and anticipation that had become a part of your routine was suddenly missing. Without even realizing it, you found yourself scanning the crowd, searching for his familiar face.

Then, just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you spotted him entering the club. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him make his way to his special seat, right in front of you. His genuine smile lit up his face, and you couldn't help but smile back, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a wave.

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, you danced with even more passion and heart than before. You knew that Chan was watching, appreciating every move, every moment.

Over the following weeks, Chan's visits became a cherished routine. Each time he arrived, you could sense the anticipation in his eyes, the unspoken hope that maybe tonight would be different.

One evening, as you were finishing your performance and making your way to his table, he finally mustered the courage to ask. "Hey, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime? Outside of here, I mean," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth and a hint of nervousness.

You smiled softly, appreciating his boldness but knowing you had to set boundaries. "I'm flattered, Chan, but I don't hang out with customers outside of work," you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

A few nights later, he tried again, this time with a different approach. "There's this amazing new restaurant that just opened up downtown. I'd love to take you there," he offered, his eyes hopeful.

You shook your head slightly, maintaining your friendly demeanor. "I appreciate the invite, but I have a policy about not mixing my work life with my personal life," you explained, hoping he would understand.

Undeterred, Chan continued to ask, each time finding new ways to express his interest. "There's a gallery opening this weekend. I thought it might be fun to check it out together," he suggested one night, his enthusiasm palpable.

Once again, you gently declined. "That sounds lovely, but I really can't. I have to keep things professional with my clients," you said, feeling a pang of regret at having to turn him down yet again.

Each time he asked, you could see the slight disappointment in his eyes, but he always respected your boundaries. And despite your refusals, he never stopped coming back, never stopped watching you with that same genuine admiration and respect.

Tonight, you made sure every detail was perfect. Your hair cascaded in flawless waves, and you wore your best outfit, accentuating every curve just right. You were eager to dance for Chan, feeling a flutter of excitement as you anticipated his arrival. Sure enough, Chan appeared, booking the rest of the night with you as he had been doing lately.

When he approached, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, a small gesture that had become part of your interactions. "Hey, Channie," you said with a playful smile. "So, what’s it gonna be tonight? Shorts or no shorts?"

Chan smiled warmly, a bit of that usual nervous energy in his eyes. "Actually," he began, his tone softer than usual, "I just want to talk tonight. I want to spend time with you."

You blinked, taken aback. No customer had ever asked for just your company before. "You... you just want to talk?" you repeated, making sure you heard him right.

He nodded, a sincere expression on his face. "Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love watching you dance. But tonight, I just want to get to know you better. You know, beyond all this," he gestured vaguely around the club.

Still processing his request, you motioned to the couch. "Alright, let's sit then." You both settled onto the plush seats, the atmosphere suddenly feeling more intimate and less transactional.

"So, what do you want to know?" you asked, trying to mask your nervousness with a casual tone.

Chan leaned forward slightly, his eyes earnest. "Everything. What's your favorite color? What's your dream vacation? What do you do when you're not here?" He paused, then added with a chuckle, "I know it sounds silly, but I really want to know the real you."

You smiled, touched by his genuine curiosity. "Well, my favorite color is …" you began, feeling a bit shy. "As for a dream vacation, I've always wanted to visit Santorini. The pictures look so beautiful, like a place out of a fairytale."

Chan listened intently, his focus unwavering. "Santorini sounds amazing. I can picture you there."

You chuckled, the image of you in Santorini bringing a warm feeling to your chest. "And when I'm not here, I love to paint. It's my way of unwinding, letting my creativity flow."

His eyes lit up. "Painting? That's incredible. What kind of things do you paint?"

You shrugged lightly, feeling more comfortable as the conversation flowed. "Mostly landscapes and abstract pieces. It's like putting a piece of my soul onto the canvas."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, both of you absorbing the depth of the conversation. Chan finally broke it, his voice soft. "You know, I've always admired how dedicated you are to what you do, I know it's now easy at all. But hearing about your passions and dreams, it makes me admire you even more."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself opening up more than you had with anyone in a long time. "Thank you, Chan. It means a lot to hear that."

He reached out, gently squeezing your hand. "Thank you for sharing with me. I know this isn’t what you usually do, but it means a lot to me."

Chan observed the small figurine on the table, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Where do you get these?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look.

You smiled, a bit shyly. “I make them myself,” you said, enjoying the surprise that flickered across his face.

“Really? That’s amazing,” he praised, his admiration evident. You shrugged modestly.

“It’s not that hard,” you replied, still smiling. “They’re always small.”

Chan chuckled, a warm sound that made you feel even more at ease. He started to remove his blazer, and before you knew it, he placed it gently around your shoulders, covering a good part of you. The gesture was so kind and considerate that it made you feel even more comfortable, despite usually feeling at ease in your usual skimpy outfits.

As you nestled into the blazer, you couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease you felt. Chan’s presence was different; it wasn’t just about the physical attraction or the lavish spending. There was a gentleness, a genuine care that made you feel safe and valued.

“I don’t usually do this,” you admitted, looking at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Chan smiled back, his eyes soft. “It’s my pleasure. You deserve to feel comfortable.”

The conversation flowed easily as Chan began to share bits and pieces of his life. He spoke about his responsibilities as CEO, the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy, and the sacrifices he had to make. His words were carefully chosen, mindful of not coming across as boastful despite his affluent lifestyle. You could tell he was trying to be as honest as possible while downplaying the extravagance.

“And that’s pretty much my life,” Chan concluded with a slight sigh. “It’s demanding, but it’s what I have to do.”

You admired his humility, realizing how grounded he remained despite his wealth. “It sounds like a lot to handle,” you said softly, your eyes reflecting your newfound respect for him. “But you do it so well. It’s impressive.”

Chan’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and weariness in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but I try.”

“You’re more than just a pretty boy,” you teased lightly, wanting to lift the mood. “You’re a hardworking, humble man.”

He laughed, the sound filling the space between you with warmth. “And you’re not just a beautiful dancer. You’re talented and creative.”

[...]

The next morning, you were chatting with the girls—your coworkers—as they finished their hair for the night.

“And he just wanted to talk,” you said, a bit incredulously. “He even asked about my favorite color.”

The girls collectively let out a heartfelt “Awww,” their eyes wide with interest and affection.

“Seriously?” one of them, Mina, asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That’s so sweet.”

“He seems different,” another added, giggling.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still a bit surprised yourself. “We just talked. It was...nice.”

Before the conversation could continue, the receptionist entered the room, a knowing smile on her face. “Ya! Y/N-nie! Your Channie is here,” she announced, her tone teasing.

It was unusual for any customer to visit on a Saturday morning, a time usually reserved for the staff to unwind and prepare for the week ahead.

“It’s Saturday morning,” Mina whispered, nudging you playfully. “No customers come in unless they lost something.”

“Let him in,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual but feeling the flutter of anticipation.

As Chan walked in, he was met with a scene unlike the usual vibrant atmosphere of the club. The girls were dressed in comfortable clothes, some with bobs in their hair, others doing their nails or simply lounging around.

You were drying a glass behind the bar. He looked around, slightly surprised but smiling.

“Good morning, girls,” he greeted, his voice cheerful. "Good morning Y/N…" He says in a special and tender tone, just for you.

“Good morning,” the girls chimed back in unison, their eyes following his every move.

You put down the glass and walked over to him, a wide smile on your face. “Channie, what are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I wanted to see you,” he replied, his gaze soft and sincere. He seemed a bit out of place in the relaxed environment, but his presence was a welcome one. You could feel the girls watching the exchange with rapt attention, like they were watching an opera unfold.

Chan noticed that you didn’t have bobs in your hair like some of the other girls. Gesturing toward your hair, he asked, “No bobs for you today?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s my day off. I’m not dancing today.”

The girls exchanged knowing looks, some stifling giggles. One of them, Lisa, leaned over and whispered loudly enough for you to hear, “Looks like someone’s here to see you even when you’re not performing.”

You blushed, glancing at Chan, who seemed equally flustered but amused by the comment. He recovered quickly, his smile returning.

Chan stood there, his eyes filled with hope and a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to spend the day with me?" he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

You chuckled, a playful glint in your eye. "Hmm, I've already told you about hanging out with my customers," you teased, enjoying the banter.

Before Chan could respond, Mina chimed in from the background, her voice filled with encouragement. "Oh, come on! You should accept it!"

Chan seized the opportunity, smiling wider. "You’re not on your work schedule now, are you?"

That shut your mouth, leaving you momentarily speechless. The girls burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Well, when you put it that way…” you trailed off, pretending to think it over.

Chan’s smile grew, sensing victory. “So, is that a yes?”

You sighed theatrically, then grinned. “Fine, you win. I’ll spend the day with you.”

“Great!” Chan said, visibly relieved and excited. “I promise it’ll be fun.”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Let me just finish up here, and we can go.”

As you gathered your things, the girls couldn’t resist a few more teasing comments, but it was all in good fun, as Chan waited patiently.

As the day unfolded, Chan took you to places you hadn't had the time to visit in years. You sipped coffee at a cozy café, strolled through the park, and even caught a movie at the cinema. With each passing moment, you found yourself enjoying his company more and more, feeling a sense of freedom and joy you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"This has been the best day off ever," you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you walked side by side with Chan.

His heart swelled with happiness at your words, his smile growing wider. He could have taken you to a luxurious restaurant or shopping for designer labels, but he sensed that wasn't what you wanted. Instead, he decided to let you choose how to spend the rest of the day.

Careful to open doors for you and ensure your comfort, Chan drove you around in his luxurious car, enjoying each other's company and the simplicity of the moment. As he glanced at you from the driver's seat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him.

"Where to next?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

You playfully pretended to ponder your options, teasing him about having more surprises up his sleeve. Chan laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he drove. You noticed that you were nearing your apartment, and the idea popped into your head.

"How about we go to my place?" you suggested, surprising even yourself with the invitation.

Chan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Your place? Are you sure?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building in your chest. "Yeah, why not? I'd love for you to see where I live."

Chan couldn't hide his delight at your invitation, his curiosity piqued. He parked the car and walked with you to your apartment building, taking in the surroundings with interest.

Chan's eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the details of your life that adorned the walls. He saw framed photographs capturing cherished memories – graduations, family gatherings, outings with friends. The images painted a picture of a life rich in experiences and relationships.

His gaze shifted to the plushies scattered across the couch, a playful and endearing touch that brought a smile to his face. It was clear to him that you had a warmth and sweetness that extended beyond the confines of the club where he first met you.

As you disappeared into the kitchen, Chan took a moment to soak in the atmosphere of your home. The tranquility of the space, combined with the personal touches that reflected your personality, made him feel strangely at ease.

In that moment, he realized that he was seeing a side of you that few others had the privilege of witnessing – the real you, beyond the glamorous facade of the club.

As you settled back onto the couch with snacks in hand, Chan joined you, his presence filling the space with warmth. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he began recounting his visit to the strip club earlier that day.

You listened intently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he shared the details of his adventure. When he mentioned Jeonghan's involvement, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your friend for unknowingly setting this day in motion.

"Looks like I owe Jeonghan a big thank you," you said, your voice muffled as you took a bite of your snack.

Chan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, Jeonghan is the reason we met, huh?" he teased, leaning closer to you.

You chuckled, feeling a playful energy between you. "Looks like it," you replied, unable to suppress a smile.

Chan's teasing grin widened at your response, and he leaned in closer, his playful demeanor evident. "Oh, so you're thanking Jeonghan, but not me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation.

With a soft smile, you turned to Chan, gratitude evident in your eyes. "Thank you, Channie," you said, your voice sincere as you expressed your appreciation.

Chan returned your smile, his gaze warm as he listened to your words. "For what?" he asked, though he already had a feeling of what you meant.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. "For everything," you began, your tone heartfelt. "For the moments we've shared, the conversations we've had... Even on the nights you booked me, we talked more than danced," you admitted, a fondness evident in your voice.

Chan's smile widened at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I guess I'm just a talkative guy," he joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.

Chan's touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on your lips with a mixture of hesitation and longing. You could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken desire hanging in the air.

When he spoke your name, you couldn't help but respond with a soft sound of acknowledgment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. His next words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice barely above a whisper as he confessed his thoughts.

"I know it's not allowed to kiss the dancers in the club," he began, his words laden with a sense of urgency, "but... we're not in the club right?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. In that moment, the boundaries that had separated you in the club seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, alone in the intimacy of your shared space.

You met Chan's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you considered his words. Despite the rules and restrictions that governed your interactions in the club, here, in this moment, you felt a freedom that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

With a hesitant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, "No, we're not in the club." And in that simple acknowledgment, you gave voice to the unspoken truth that had been lingering between you all along.

Chan's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips crashed into yours. His tongue explored your mouth with a fervent passion, and you found yourself breathing hard, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt to deepen the kiss.

The truth was, the more you refused Chan's invitations to dinner, the more you denied the gifts he insisted on giving you, the more you avoided his attempts to kiss you—his feelings for you only grew stronger. And now, seeing his insistence on simply having your company, and not just as the girl who would entertain him at night, made you feel all your girlhood feelings again.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you looked into his eyes, your breath mingling with his. "Chan..." you whispered "Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep trying so hard?"

He held your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and tenderness. "Because you matter to me, Y/N. More than just a dancer, more than just a pretty face. I see you, the real you, and I want to know you better."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a rush of warmth and affection for this man who saw beyond the surface. "But I'm not used to this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not used to someone caring this much."

Chan's grip on your neck tightened slightly, a comforting reassurance. "Then let me show you how it feels. Let me show you that you deserve to be cared for, to be cherished."

"Show me," you whisper, your eyes locked on Chan's lips. He captures your mouth in a passionate kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it over your head. You pull him closer, desperate to feel him, your hands sliding under his shirt to caress his warm skin.

His hands slide to your thighs, lifting you onto his lap, your breasts now level with his face. He glances at the pretty lace bra you’re wearing and lowers the cups, exposing your nipples. He kisses each one tenderly before sucking on one and pinching the other. You melt into him, your hips grinding against his automatically, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

"Do you know how hard it was to control myself when you grinded on my cock like this?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

A wicked smile crosses your lips as you continue to grind against him, feeling his erection growing beneath you. "I could feel it, Chan," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "I could feel how much you wanted me. I wanted you just as badly."

His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he presses you harder against him. "God, Y/N, you drive me crazy," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust.

You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "I want to feel you inside me, Chan. I want you to lose control. Show me how much you want me."

His control snaps, and he flips you onto your back, his body pressing you into the couch. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," he growls, his hand sliding down to unbutton your pants.

"I know exactly what I want," you whisper back, your eyes burning with the same desire. "I want you, all of you."

Chan's lips crash into yours again, more fiercely this time, as his hands work to remove the rest of your clothing.

In a blur of movement, clothes are discarded, and his skin is pressed against yours. He pauses to look into your eyes. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need.

"I want you, Chan," you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

Chan giggles softly, his breath hot against your skin. "Wait for me to prepare you," he whispers, his voice laced with anticipation. He opens your legs wide, his eyes dark with desire as he lowers himself between your thighs. His lips find your wet folds, kissing them gently before his tongue delves deeper.

The sensation sends shivers through your body, and you let out a soft moan. Chan's mouth works expertly, sucking on your clit while his tongue teases and explores. As you gasp his name, "Channie," he responds with a moan of his own, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

His hand slides up your thigh, and you feel the gentle pressure of his finger at your entrance. He slips it inside you slowly, his finger curling to find that perfect spot. Your back arches off the couch, your hands gripping the cushions as he continues to worship your body with his mouth and fingers.

"Oh, Chan," you breathe, your voice quivering with need. The way his tongue moves, the way his finger pumps in and out of you—it's all too much. Your hips begin to move on their own, seeking more of the intense pleasure he's giving you.

He adds another finger, stretching you gently, and your moans grow louder. His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue in a rhythm that drives you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

Chan's free hand comes up to hold your hip, steadying you as you writhe beneath him. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust and admiration, and the sight of him between your legs pushes you closer to the edge.

"Channie, I’m so close," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his mouth more insistent on your clit. The world fades away, and all you can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

With a final, deep moan, you come undone. Your body trembles, your muscles clench around his fingers, and a powerful wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Chan doesn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you're completely spent, every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.

Finally, he pulls away, his fingers and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks up at you with a triumphant smile, his own need evident in his eyes. "You taste so good," he murmurs, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only fuels the fire between you.

"Now," he says, positioning himself at your entrance, "I think you're ready."

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, and with one smooth thrust, he fills you completely.

Your pussy was wet enough, spasming, welcoming him perfectly. Chan's eyes were closed, his face contorting as he tried to compose himself. You reached up and gently held his face, and he opened his eyes, scoffing softly, trying to pretend he didn't almost cum right then and there from the sensation of your sopping cunt wrapping so perfectly around him and the pornographic moan that just left your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good."

You smiled, your own arousal mirrored in his gaze. "Don't hold back, Channie," you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair. "I want all of you."

He groaned, his hips starting to move, slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him with each thrust. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, the connection between you deepening with every movement.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he picked up the pace. "So perfect for me."

You bit your lip, your body responding to his every word, his every touch. "Chan," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Don't stop."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rolled his hips, stopping momentarily before hitting your g'spot with a sharp thrust. He repeated this motion, each thrust more deliberate, and the most sinful moans left your mouth. "Yes, Channie," you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure, "fuck this pussy with that big fucking cock. Yes, yes!"

Chan groaned, the sound deep and guttural, spurred on by your words. "You like that? Hm?" he panted, his pace quickening as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. "You like how I fuck you?"

"Yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, yes, I love it. I love how you fuck me– ah! Channie."

"So wet... all for me."

Your body arched beneath him, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building to an overwhelming peak. "Only for you," you whispered, your voice breaking with a whimper as he drove you closer to the edge. "No one else, just you, Channie."

He growled, the possessiveness in your words igniting something primal in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Say it again," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours, Channie, only yours."

His hips snapped forward with even more intensity, and you could feel the coil tightening in your core, ready to snap. "Cum for me," he urged, his voice a low growl. "Cum all over my cock, baby."

Your pussy throbbed as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, your eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream. You wrapped your legs around Chan's waist, locking him in place as you rode out every wave of pleasure. Chan hissed, his abdomen trembling, signaling that he was on the brink of release but unable to escape your grip.

You opened your eyes to find Chan watching you intently, taking in every reaction. "Sit," you commanded, your voice breathless yet authoritative.

"Hm?" Chan responded, his expression a mix of curiosity and lingering pleasure.

"Sit," you repeated, firmer this time. He complied, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Are you going to dom me?" he teased, scoffing lightly.

Instead of answering, you simply lowered yourself onto his cock, making him flinch and let out a whiny moan in your ear, your legs trembling from the intensity of your recent orgasm.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You like that, Channie? You like when I take control?"

"Yes," he gasped, his breath hitching as you began to move, rolling your hips slowly at first. "God, yes."

You smirked, picking up the pace, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through both of you. "You look so good like this," you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "So desperate, so needy. You want to cum, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whimper. "Please, let me cum."

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, riding him harder. "Not yet," you commanded, enjoying the power you held over him. "Not until I say so."

Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his body trembling as he tried to hold back. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."

"Look at me," you ordered, your tone firm. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "You’re going to cum when I tell you to, understand?"

"Yes," he panted, nodding eagerly. "Yes, I understand."

You imagined riding him since the moment he entered that club, young, hot, with his sleeves rolled up, the scent of masculine fragrance mingling with whiskey on his breath. Feeling this man, needy and sly, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, spilling all that pre-cum, and fighting his demons not to cum, made you so horny.

You licked your fingers, circling your clit to help yourself climax, making you clench around him again. A strangled moan escaped his mouth, his eyes were rolling back.

You leaned in close, your voice husky with desire. "You're so close, Channie," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I can feel how badly you want to cum inside me. Do it, baby. Give it to me. Fill me up with your cum."

Chan's hips bucked against yours, his grip on your hips tightening. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I need to cum, please..."

You smirked, your fingers still working furiously on your clit. "You want to empty those balls for me, make me feel every drop of your cum inside me? Hm?"

Chan nodded frantically, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes, god, yes. Please, let me cum. I can't hold on much longer."

With a wicked grin, you increased the pressure on your clit, feeling the tension building inside you. "Then cum for me, Channie," you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. "Cum deep inside my pussy."

Chan's entire body tensed, his breath hitching as he finally let go, his cum flooding you with warmth. You cried out in pleasure, feeling your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you rode out the ecstasy together.

As you collapsed against his chest, Chan wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel your legs trembling in soreness, his cum still dripping from your pussy, and both of your bodies slick with sweat. Despite the exhaustion, Chan's embrace felt comforting and secure.

He ran his hands soothingly over your back, his touch gentle yet firm, as if trying to convey all his affection through his fingertips. You raised your head to meet his gaze, finding him looking back at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness in his eyes.

You pressed a series of soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. Chan smiled in response, his own lips curved upwards in a contented –fucked out– expression.

You summoned the last vestiges of your strength just to tease Chan, circling your hips ever so slightly, just enough to elicit a reaction from his sensitive body.

"Wait, wait," Chan gasped, his voice strained with sensitivity. "I can't... I can't take it."

He held you firmly against him, his grip almost desperate as he tried to steady himself. The sensation of your hips circling against his heightened his arousal to a point where he felt like he might lose control at any moment.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Despite the exhaustion and the intensity of your encounter, you found his vulnerability endearing.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his labored breaths. "I couldn't resist teasing you a little."

Chan let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he spoke again.

"You're... you're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I don't know how you do it."

You grinned up at him, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. Despite the intense physical connection between you, there was an undeniable emotional bond that had formed, deepening your connection even further.

"I guess I just have a way with you," you replied playfully, winking at him before snuggling closer into his embrace.

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venussaidso · 7 months ago

Text

Venus Dominant Themes — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

warnings: mentions of sexual assault, rape and murder.

Finally, I am exploring Venus as a nakshatra lord but, more importantly, the significance of the nakshatra Purva Ashada through medias I've collected. The nakshatras within the Sagittarius section seem to all connect through the theme of purification, especially with the start of Mula who destroys the falsehood through the hunter/huntress archetype and purifies the untamable. As Mula is the cycle of conquering the wild things and seeking truth, Purva Ashada is now a stage above that.

It is already evident in that Purva Ashada literally means "the undefeated" or "the unconquered", now dealing with themes of justice, honour and battle. This nakshatra is known as the Invincible Star. This victorious warrior-like essence stretches towards Uttara Ashada, as Uttara Ashada means "later victory" or "final victory", closing off this journey in Sagittarius. Other Venus nakshatras will be mentioned, as expected, since trine nakshatras all literally have the same outlining experiences.

Purva Ashada is associated with invincibility and triumph over adversity. It possesses the Varchagrahan Shakti, which is the power to invigorate or energise, meaning to be relentless and driven in its pursuit of ideals. Its desire is said to be “gaining the sea upon wishing for it”, being supported by its Jupiter rulership. As Jupiter is idealistic, Purva Ashada will be more set in its way through action and fixed determination as it is, first and foremost, a fire sign. As this is Sagittarius, it comes as no surprise that fictional archers in the media can be often played by these natives, signifying their grit and focused determination ♐︎.

Mula Suns Kathryn Winnick in Vikings and Anna Popplewell in Narnia.

Purva Ashada Moon Hailee Stainfield and Purva Ashada Sun Jeremy Renner in Hawkeye.

Purva Ashada Sun Jonas Armstrong in Robin Hood.

Archery is especially perfect for this nakshatra's lord as it requires a flowing adaptability and accuracy as Venus would obsess over perfecting and executing it, unyielding a level of concentration and precision through burning passion and drive.

Bharani Sun Stephen Amell in Green Arrow.

The star of Purva Ashada is very fierce and severe by nature, being Ugra, and with its Venus rulership, it will always always find a way to achieve its goals. Venus allows for creativity, craftiness, and even strategy (especially within diplomacy); the fire element making it fierce and quick-thinking for battle and war. The fire signs in the Venus section are specifically suited for overpowering societal norms in a way that their combined fire element and Venusian qualities know how to. The best character that exemplifies this is literally Mulan.

The themes of fighting for honour, family, one's country and being part of a larger purpose are just knocking on the 9H, and Sagittarius, as a whole. Purva Ashada cannot be victorious without overcoming hardships and obstacles that sharpen their skills and instincts. Her obstacle is what supports her journey to independence and truth, as she disguises herself as a man to join the army when women are not meant to fight for their country. Jupiter, being expansive in nature, shows in her decision to break free from the confines of being a traditional woman. Her character immediately signifies Sagittarius' need for freedom in pursuit of truth and expansion. When she is told no, she goes the other way to march to the beat of her own drum, her determination unwavering and her creativity helping her remain disguised while she acquires skills and knowledge that she wouldn't have as a woman (now her Jupiterian nature is able to flourish).

Purva Ashada Moon Ming-Na Wen voices Mulan. Purva Ashadha is formed by the stars Kaus Borealis and Kaus Australis in the Archer’s bow.

Purva Ashada signifies perseverance and moral duty which we see in Mulan who carries a deep responsibility to her family & country, choosing to prioritize duty and honour over societal norms or even personal desire.

She grows stronger, more skillful, after every challenge; influence of Venus sharpening and refining her, as she is on her way to become an invincible, victorious force.

Jupiter rashis (Sagittarius and Pisces) all have a theme of transcendence; Mulan's arc having more to do with family and patriotism, transcending limitations and becoming a hero who saves China. The message of the story has a lot to do with self-worth, making your mark no matter the restrictions of society; the philosophy of Mulan being that real honour and strength come from within and not from conforming.

The whole Sagittarius section deals with issues of conformity, such as Mula who doesn't fit in society or doesn't feel free within it due to its raw nature. Mula, being Ketu, tends to find ways to escape or its power can be intense. While Purva Ashada, being Venus, is more creative in maneuvering restrictions in order to overcome them.

Both Lea Salonga and Christina Aguilera sing the popular soundtrack song Reflection.

In the kdrama The King's Affection, Purva Phalguni Sun Park Eun-bin plays a character who disguises herself as a man to survive in such a patriarchal society.

Much like Mulan, she breaks societal expectations. Both characters have to prove their worth even while they're men, and these two Venusians excel in their roles despite all challenges and danger. While Mulan sacrifices her personal safety to protect her father and to fight for her country, the character Dam-i (in The King's Affection) sacrifices her identity and freedom to maintain her family's honour and stability in the kingdom.

Purva Phalguni Moon Yifei Liu in Mulan (2020)

Venus is connected to the idea of sacrifice in the willingness to endure for love, beauty, and unity. This willingness to transcend one's own personhood for the greater good or a higher ideal perfectly captures the Jupiter & Venus rulership of this nakshatra.

The film Wonder Woman (2017) begins by telling a similar arc to Mulan. Before being known as the hero named Wonder Woman, she was Diana, princess of the Amazons, who trained rigorously to be an unconquerable warrior.

Raised on a sheltered island paradise, she meets a stranded war pilot who tells her about the massive conflict happening in the outside world. Convinced that she can help stop the threat, Diana desires to leave Themyscira for the first time ever. Much like Mulan's desire to join the army was protested against, the Amazons tried to stop Diana from leaving, as they feared for her safety. As the rashi rulership here is Mars, there are no barriers to overcome to expand oneself from clear oppressive forces (which would be a Jupiterian storyline), instead, this portrayal of Wonder Woman goes head first into battle (very Aries of her).

Her Aries nature shows as we follow her in her journey of self-discovery when she joins the pilot to fight the wars. This Aries version of Wonder Woman is seen as she explores this new world like a newborn baby, as Aries is the baby of the zodiac. Her identity (following 1H themes) is slowly uncovered as she comes to realize that she is the Godkiller, meaning that she has always been a goddess. And that there is a potential confrontation awaiting her with Ares, the God of War. This discovery is picked up when she is fighting alongside men in a war to end all wars.

Bharani is ruled by the Lord Yama who is the god of justice. He oversees the transition of souls after death, ensuring that they face the consequences of their actions as he acts as a guardian of moral order and spiritual integrity.

Bharani ASC Cate Blanchett plays Hela, the Goddess of Death. Yama is the God of Death and the Lord of the Afterlife.

Purva Ashada nakshatra generally carries this sense of justice as well, as it stands for truth and high morality. This can be seen in the film North Country, which is directed by Purva Ashada Moon native Niki Caro (who also directed 2020's live-action Mulan).

Purva Phalguni ASC Charlize Theron portrays one of the members of the first group of women working at a local iron mine in Minnesota. Male workers become offended that they have to work with women, and they express this by lashing out at them, subjecting them to sexual harassment. Appalled by the physical abuse and violent misogyny, Charlize Theron's character files a historic sexual harassment lawsuit, despite being cautioned against it by family and friends.

The reality of femicide tends to be bravely explored through the media by Venusians the most, I've noticed. Acts that harm women, such as physical or sexual violence, can be seen as affronts to Venus itself, violating the sacred feminine.

A lot of revenge stories led by women start with the woman being sexually violated or physically oppressed, justifying her rage and her violence against those who have harmed her.

Lord Yama is also known as Dharma Raja, which translates to "King of Righteousness". Being associated with his punishment for sinners, retribution and justice are synonymous in this cycle; seen in popular revenge movies where one is given this divine right to properly, and quickly, execute justice for themselves and, or their loved ones. As if Lord Yama is acting through them, they are protected on their path of vengeance and restoration.

Purva Phalguni ASC Charlize Theron as Furiosa.

In the film Mad Max: Fury Road, Furiosa is driven by a desire to restore freedom, dignity, and hope to the oppressed class of society. Through her actions, she opposes the extreme patriarchy, her character signifying collective salvation. Furiosa carries a relentless drive to overthrow Immortan Joe’s tyrannical rule and rescue the few women in the society, who are treated as his property. Her unbreakable spirit in the face of extreme challenges mirrors the invincibility found within Purva Ashada (and its trine nakshatras). Purva Ashada's link to water, as it is ruled by the deity Apah, highlights purification, healing, and renewal. Furiosa’s quest to find the Green Place, a sanctuary of life and hope, reflects this thirst for a pure, life-sustaining environment. (As everywhere else is a post-apocalyptic wasteland).

Being that she is played by a Venus-nakshatra native, we see just how self-sacrificing she is for a greater purpose, being protective over the Wives and willing to risk everything for their safety and make it to the Green Place in order to establish a new foundation of harmony (Purva Phalguni is associated with comfort and happiness, and this version of Furiosa carries hope for such a future for her and the Wives).

Bharani ASC Anya Taylor Joy portrays a younger Furiosa who disguises herself as a man for survival and avenges the brutal death of her mother who was murdered in front of her as a child (much like O-Ren Ishii in Kill Bill.)

Bharani Moon Quentin Tarantino has written and directed popular revenge movies, such as Kill Bill & Django Unchained.

Both films star Bharani natives who execute retribution to people who did them wrong.

In Kill Bill, there's another Bharani storyline in which a little girl, O-Ren Ishii, witnesses the brutal death of her parents. She grows up to be trained and lethal, and kills the culprit that she's sworn revenge on.

O-Ren Ishii is portrayed by Bharani Moon Lucy Liu.

Bharani Moon Han So-Hee portrays Ji-woo, a woman driven by a thirst for vengeance, infiltrating a drug cartel to uncover the truth behind her father's murder.

In the Korean film Night in Paradise, Bharani Moon Jeon Yeo-Been portrays a character who goes on a murder spree in the ending, ambushing the gangsters who murdered her uncle and a friend of hers and being the one to successfully kill off the antagonist.

In Last Night in Soho, Bharani ASC Anya Taylor Joy kills all the men who have sexually violated her, and more importantly, avenges herself by murdering the man who lured her into the abusive underworld.

Claire Nakti touches on Bharani women being erotic dancers and finding themselves in the underworld. This further validated Anya Taylor Joy's Bharani placement for me, in this movie she's been sex trafficked and forced to be a dancer and prostitute in an underworld of sorts.

Purva Phalguni Sun& ASC Salma Hayek as an erotic dancer in an underworld in From Dusk Till Dawn.

It is interesting as trine nakshatras are also seen associated with the Goddess Persephone, Queen of the Underworld.

In The Matrix franchise, Persephone is married to the Merovingian, a program often described as a ruler or trafficker of information in the Matrix's underworld.

The Goddess Persephone is mostly associated with Bharani nakshatra. Initially being a victim of Hades' abduction, Persephone's evolution into a strong ruler of the underworld represents resilience and empowerment which perfectly encapsulates the journey of Venus nakshatras. She literally grows into a powerful queen, presiding over the dead and representing justice and the necessary order within the underworld. Bharani signifies the womb, representing creation, struggle, and the emergence of new life. Persephone’s cyclic movement between the underworld and the earth (as she is also the personification of vegetation, also being the goddess of spring) mirrors this cycle of life, embodying death (winter) and rebirth (spring). Purva Ashada represents the regenerative power of life, also signifying its association with Persephone’s role in seasonal changes. (Also, Furiosa's abduction from the Green Place perfectly parallels Persephone's abduction, as explained above).

In conclusion, there lies a higher purpose within the Venus nakshatras, especially Purva Ashada nakshatra, which possesses an ability to harmonize life's dualities—victory and loss, pleasure and pain, creation and destruction, love and retribution—into a transformative journey of growth, empowerment, and universal balance. Venus emphasizes how resilience and renewal can lead to profound evolution, with Purva Ashada's process of purification being removing impurities and starting anew. The character Mulan going through army training highlighted her inadequacies and shortcomings; her initiation of purification being the stage where she breaks free from traditional expectations. And so the process of purification is seen in her discovering ways to make up for her lack of physical strength, this being a mark of her transformation while being disguised as a man. Rediscovering her inner strength is all the cleansing of self-doubt that she needs to go through to finally be in her final triumph. Reconciling her inner self with her external role, Mulan symbolizes the renewal and balance within Purva Ashada.

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astroxrion · 4 days ago

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I’m going to tell you how to come up with the millionaire ideas you’ve been begging to receive … based on Mercury in astrology⭐️

W.S.

Below 🥭🌙⭐️🧚‍♂️

Mercury in the 1st House

Millionaire ideas come from personal instinct and direct experience. Speak your truth, brand your identity, and trust that people buy from clarity. Execute by being visible, vocal, and bold. Share your story publicly and turn your name into a movement.

Mercury in the 2nd House

Big ideas come when you notice what people truly value but can’t access. Think tangible, long-lasting solutions. Execute by building slow, with stable systems. Package what’s practical and turn reliability into revenue. Monetize what holds real weight

Mercury in the 3rd House

You’re a natural idea machine. Million-dollar thoughts come when you connect concepts others miss. Execute by writing, teaching, networking, or creating info-based content. Monetize your mind by turning conversation into a business model

Mercury in the 4th House

Your ideas spark through emotional memory, family systems, or inner healing. Create from what felt missing in childhood. Execute by building intimate brands or businesses around home, safety, or nostalgia. Your legacy starts where your healing began

Mercury in the 5th House

Your genius is creative. Millionaire ideas come through play, performance, or art. When you’re having fun, you’re channeling gold. Execute through personal branding, entertainment, or bold launches. Build your empire from joy. Lead with flair.

Mercury in the 6th House

Your ideas scale when you solve real daily problems. Systems, schedules, health, and workflow are your genius zones. Execute by turning routines into frameworks or services. Precision becomes profit when you productize what keeps people moving.

Mercury in the 7th House

Big ideas come through conversation, partnership, or client insight. You spot gaps in relationships or service. Execute through co-creation, brand deals, legal-based offers, or consulting. Millionaire success comes when you lead through connection

Mercury in the 8th House

Your ideas strike when you dive into taboo, money, power, or psychology. You see what others fear. Execute through depth work—investing, transformation, intimacy, or hidden knowledge. Monetize shadows by turning them into strategy and truth

Mercury in the 9th House

Ideas land when you teach, travel, or expand thought. You’re here to globalize wisdom. Execute through publishing, coaching, or philosophy turned product. Your voice is your passport. Scale by spreading your beliefs far beyond the familiar

Mercury in the 10th House

Big ideas spark when you think about impact and leadership. You naturally create legacy-driven models. Execute through public-facing platforms, structured launches, and long-term planning. You’re here to turn strategy into empire

Mercury in the 11th House

You think like the future. Millionaire ideas come through technology, community, or collective needs. Execute by going digital, building networks, and disrupting stale systems. Vision pays you when you make it accessible and scalable

Mercury in the 12th House

Ideas arrive in dreams, symbols, and silence. You channel what others overlook. Execute through art, film, spirituality, or subconscious healing. Your path is ethereal but real. Turn your private inner world into something others can feel and follow

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androm3da868 · 1 month ago

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Martian Intelligence 🔥

I cannot stress this enough: Mars people — whether by rashi (sign) or nakshatra — are brilliantly and cosmically intelligent. It is baked into their very nature to be strategic, calculating, opportunistic, and driven by a relentless desire to overcome obstacles. These are the natives who do not simply sit on knowledge or take it for granted — they weaponize it, sharpening their minds the way a warrior sharpens a blade.

Mars governs not only our physical energy and willpower but also the discipline and mental sharpness it takes to tackle challenges, seize opportunities, and win. Too often people reduce Mars to anger, aggression, or pure physicality — but they overlook its deep ties to mental endurance, strategy, and applied intelligence.

Mars nakshatra and Mars rashi natives are frequently drawn to athletic careers because Mars rules the body, movement, competition, and discipline. But here’s the crucial point:

Do you know how most athletes get scouted? Through university.

Do you know how many receive scholarships? Yes, it’s partly because of their raw talent — but also because of their academic performance.

You can’t just enter the world of high-level sports on talent alone. From high school onward, athletes are required to maintain strong grades and demonstrate intelligence, time management, and focus. By the time they’re in college, especially in rigorous sports like football, they’re expected to perform both physically and intellectually at the top of their game.

And this is why Mars nakshatra women, for example, are often drawn not simply to rich men but specifically to athletes. Why? Because they recognize someone who has succeeded in a field that demands both strategy and calculation — not just brute force or luck. Athletes are often financially well-off not just because they can play, but because they’ve mastered the mental demands of their career.

When Mars natives are diverted from physical paths — say, due to injury — they often redirect their drive into lifelong intellectual or activist pursuits. These are the people who become scholars, teachers, or advocates, pouring their energy into informing others about the challenges, risks, or injustices in the very field they once inhabited. Even becoming coaches.

Mars is not just a fighter; Mars is a lifelong warrior for knowledge, for mastery, for action.

Take Mars rashi natives, especially Scorpio placements. Many of them go through trauma early in life. And trauma — particularly verbal or psychological abuse, especially for Jyestha tie to Mercury — forces them to develop mental sharpness as a defense mechanism.

Jyestha nakshatra, for instance, is famously quick-witted and verbally cutting. These natives are masters of the comeback, of the precisely timed argument, of the word that cuts like a blade. Why? Because they’ve been forged in environments where they had to outthink, outmaneuver, and outargue their way to survival. Anuradha placement shows up in many lawyers and scholars. Many artist who are know for their lyricism have these two placements in the planets of mars and Mercury and also known for their traumatic childhoods.

This is Mars intelligence in action — not just physical, but mental; not just passion, but precision.

I wish more people would stop underestimating the power and significance of Mars in the birth chart. Too often, we only look at Mercury, Jupiter, or the Sun when talking about intelligence and the mind. But Mars has so much to tell us — about not just willpower or essence, but how we approach knowledge itself.

Mars is the sharpener, the strategist, the commander. It reveals how we learn through challenge, how we apply our intelligence under pressure, and how we turn knowledge into action. To overlook Mars is to overlook one of the most potent sources of strength, brilliance, and mastery in the entire chart.

#mars #mars Nakshatra #mars rashi #scorpio #aries #chitra #mrigasira #dhanishtha #vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #astrology #I’m sorry I love mars as a planet it’s so underrated but very important #dhanishta gets a lot of credit and very much so #but I haven’t even expanded on what I’ve seen from my peers on them

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astrologydray · 26 days ago

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Pallas through the degrees

Each degree gives Pallas a specific tone—some degrees make you a warrior strategist, others a silent psychic, a healer, or a visionary. These tell us how your brain sees the world’s patterns… and how you’re built to solve what others can’t.

0° – Bold and raw strategist; you jump into problems instinctively.

You trust your first hit of intuition and usually nail it before others finish processing.

1° – Strong-willed and fiercely independent in thought.

You’re devoted to your own logic and don’t wait for validation.

2° – Steady, grounded thinker; your intelligence moves slow but deep.

You don’t miss anything—especially when money, loyalty, or long-term value is involved.

3° – Mentally flexible and witty; you process everything through language and vibes.

You’re sharp in conversations and catch subtle patterns quickly.

4° – Deeply intuitive; your intelligence is emotionally rooted.

You read people’s moods and hidden needs without them ever saying a word.

5° – Creative problem solver with childlike spark.

Your strategy often involves humor, art, or playful genius.

6° – Precision thinker; you can spot the flaw in a system instantly.

You’re wired for service, health, and smart solutions that actually work.

7° – Balanced, aesthetic thinker; you see symmetry and fairness in everything.

You solve relational issues with clarity and grace.

8° – Intense psychological strategist.

You’re gifted at seeing what’s not being said—and using that to shift the whole dynamic.

9° – Expansive thinker; your wisdom is philosophical or global.

You’re great at connecting patterns across time, cultures, and beliefs.

10° – Structured, executive strategist.

You organize thoughts into blueprints for success—you’re made for leadership.

11° – Abstract thinker with a gift for innovation.

You’re a mental rebel, always scanning for a smarter, freer way forward.

12° – Quiet mystic; you receive patterns through feeling, not logic.

You download wisdom from the subtle or spiritual realm.

13° – Laser-focused and unshakable.

You’re not afraid of chaos—you can find the center and take control.

14° – Clever, adaptable, and always three steps ahead.

You’re a mental shapeshifter who solves problems with a joke or a twist.

15° – Charismatic and radiant thinker.

You shine when you’re expressing your vision creatively or publicly.

16° – Skillful, steady, and rooted in logic.

You’re great at mastering the basics and building smart, sustainable results.

17° – Diplomatic mind; you can charm and out-think at the same time.

You keep things fair but always strategic.

18° – Powerful, intuitive, and emotionally complex.

You work behind the scenes and can dismantle a problem from the inside out.

19° – Bold belief-based thinker.

You fight with facts and fire—and your opinions usually stick.

20° – Wise beyond your years with a CEO brain.

You apply ancient logic to modern goals, and people trust your judgment.

21° – Inventive thinker with a rebellious edge.

You challenge every norm and usually win.

22° – Quiet and fated intelligence.

Your wisdom feels karmic—almost like you’ve been solving the same soul puzzle for lifetimes.

23° – Imaginative strategist with a dreamy edge.

You solve problems through visuals, feelings, or fantasy worlds that make more sense than reality.

24° – Functional brilliance; you create efficiency like it’s art.

Your logic is beautiful, earthy, and helpful.

25° – Dramatic, compelling thinker.

You perform your intelligence and captivate people in the process.

26° – Deep strategist with a love of hidden systems.

You see patterns in power, pain, and transformation—and know how to work with all three.

27° – Visionary problem solver; you teach others how to think bigger.

Your wisdom is bold, clear, and influential.

28° – Structured and legacy-driven wisdom.

You’re here to make real moves with your mind and leave a mark through strategy.

29° – Karmic closure; you’ve been carrying this sacred intelligence across lifetimes.

Your pattern recognition is profound, and your solutions often feel final, fated, or deeply healing.

#astro notes #astrology #birth chart #astro observations #astro community #astrology observations #astrology community #astrology degrees #astro #astroblr #astrology content #astrologyposts #asteroids in astrology #astrology aspects #astrology insights #zodiac #zodic signs

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adannamdi · 2 months ago

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Writing A Main Villain And Hidden Mastermind

VILLAINS

Villains are my absolute worst and absolute favorite characters to write. They can be morally gray, complex, or driven by the wrong motivations. Sometimes they’re fan favorites, and sometimes they’re nightmares. They might work alone, in pairs, or as part of a hidden network—but you won’t know unless the writer reveals it.

However, not all villains are the same. There are different kinds, each with their own level of intelligence, cunning, and approach to achieving their goals.

TYPES OF VILLAINS

The Brute Villain

These villains rely on strength, intimidation, and power rather than strategy. They crave domination but lack foresight, making them easy to manipulate or deceive. They flaunt their abilities, believing themselves invincible—until their downfall.

They can be outwitted with the right timing, distractions, or by exploiting their weaknesses—whether that’s greed, lust, or arrogance.

The Seductive Villain

These villains manipulate through desire—not necessarily through sex, but by preying on ambition, pride, or insecurity. They use charm and deception to turn people into pawns, slowly poisoning their minds with subtle manipulation.

Imagine a married man ensnared by a seductress—not only does she fulfill his desires, but she also brainwashes him into giving her what she needs, all while dismantling his life from the inside.

The Shadow Villain (The Puppet Master)

These villains never act directly. They stay hidden, watching, waiting, and pulling the strings while others execute their plans. Their hands are clean, but they orchestrate chaos from behind the scenes.

Think of a corrupt politician running a criminal empire while maintaining the image of a noble leader. The arrests, murders, and schemes are carried out by underlings, while the mastermind remains untouchable.

The Hidden Mastermind (The Most Dangerous One)

Unlike the shadow villain, the hidden mastermind is always two steps ahead. They have backup plans, loyal followers, and limitless resources. They manipulate events with precision and are nearly impossible to track.

Imagine a superhero chasing a faceless enemy—he knows the villain’s voice, maybe a vague silhouette, but nothing more. The villain could sit across from the hero, sipping tea, and still remain undetected.

Or picture this: a murder takes place in a park. The victim’s partner reports it—seemingly an innocent bystander. But as the protagonist digs deeper, they realize the partner is the true mastermind, orchestrating everything. Yet, without proof, only the hired killer is arrested while the real villain walks free.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Villains should challenge the protagonist, push the plot forward, and create tension. Their impact should be felt throughout the story, even if their presence isn’t immediately obvious.

Next week, I’ll be discussing why character occupations matter in mystery writing. Be sure to follow and like for more content!

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technologyequality · 3 months ago

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Boost Customer Loyalty with AI: Smarter Retention Strategies That Work

Boost Customer Loyalty with AI Smarter Retention Strategies That Work If you’ve followed this series, you know that AI has already changed how we attract leads, price our services, and close sales. But here’s a hard truth: If you’re only focused on getting new customers, you’re leaving money on the table. Acquiring new clients is great, but keeping them? That’s where the real profit is. Think…

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eiralunaire · 9 months ago

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𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚆𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎/𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛/Flatline.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: very fucking long episode, love complications

It's been months since the Lazarus Island Tournament ended. Damian Wayne, the young heir to the League of Assassins and now bearer of the mantle of Robin, has returned to Gotham. However, his mind hasn't been entirely on the shadows of the city or the nightly missions he's continued to fulfill alongside Nightwing and the other heroes of the Bat-Family. Something distracts him: Reader, the mysterious girl he met on the island, whose bloodbending power left him fascinated by both her skill and her indomitable character.

On his first day back in Gotham, Damian had hoped to find clues about Reader. He dove into his combat and training routine, but none of the activities that normally calmed him offered relief. Reader was different. In the tournament, he had seen her use her power with lethal precision, manipulating the blood in her opponents' veins to gain the advantage by killing them, whether by exploding blood vessels, stopping or equally exploding hearts or stopping blood circulation. What had surprised him the most was her detachment and indifference in doing all this with her skills, simply plotting her strategy and executing it without further ado, not to mention that Reader was one of the most difficult competitors, not to mention almost impossible to defeat due to her bloodbending power.

The nights in Gotham grew long and lonely. Every time Damian patrolled the rooftops, he felt a growing frustration. His contacts around the world knew nothing of Reader. Neither the League of Assassins nor the Bat-Computer databases had any record of her. She had vanished after the tournament as if she had never existed. Sometimes, during the quieter hours of the morning, when Gotham slept and he remained alert, he felt as if the shadow of her memory was stalking him. He remembered the last moment on the island, when they had exchanged a look that promised more, but neither had said a word.

On his patrols, he unconsciously searched for any trace that might lead him to her. Gotham had its own darkness, but Reader possessed a shadow that felt different, more dangerous and fascinating at the same time.

Damian couldn’t help but train harder than usual. Sometimes, his teammates would notice his intensity, but no one would say anything. His obsession consumed him. Deep down, he knew something inside him had changed since the island. He admired not only his power, but Reader’s fierce independence, her ability to fight without relying on anyone, her refusal to follow the path others imposed.

In one such nightly session, practicing in the Bat-Cave, Damian would hit the punching bag with a suppressed fury. The dull sound of the blows echoed in the empty cave. “Where are you?” he asked himself, each blow driven by the frustration of not having found her yet.

As he trained, his mind drifted back to the tournament: how Reader always remained calm, even when the odds were against him. He remembered how, in a fight, she had stood by his side to face the League’s enemies, no coordination or words needed. It was as if they both knew exactly what to do. That implicit connection had surprised him, something rare in his life full of control and discipline.

But after those moments shared in the arena, she had left without a trace.

Damian was not one to leave loose ends. Despite his cold facade and calculating mindset, the truth was that Reader had touched him in a deeper place than he wanted to admit. He didn't know if what he felt for her was attraction, respect, or something else, but the truth was that she didn't leave his mind.

Every night that passed without a lead increased his desperation. Was she okay? Why had she disappeared so suddenly after the tournament? What could he do to find her?

One night, as he looked out over the city from the top of a building, with the night breeze hitting his face, Damian did something he rarely did: he allowed himself to feel. He let the weight of uncertainty and desire overwhelm him for a moment. He closed his eyes and remembered the feeling of being close to her, of fighting together in the arena, of watching her wield her power with deadly grace.

He knew he had to find her. Not because of his own obsession, but because he felt there was something more to her, something he had to understand. And though he didn't know when or how, Damian Wayne, the young Robin, swore at that moment that he wouldn't rest until he crossed paths with Reader again, and that was a promise he was willing to keep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a night like any other in Gotham: the air heavy with the smell of smoke and rain, the distant sound of sirens, and the dark silhouette of Robin jumping between the rooftops, patrolling the city. Damian was more focused than ever. His search for Reader had him distracted, more than he would like to admit. No criminal in the city had been able to offer him the release he sought, and every night that passed without any leads on her made him more frustrated. But something was about to change.

As he watched from above an alley on the outskirts of downtown, he saw a figure he hadn't expected to find. A familiar figure, who moved with an agility and confidence similar to his own: Flatline. Damian couldn't forget the last meeting they had on Lazarus Island. Flatline had been there too, always by Reader's side, so close that even someone like him could notice the connection between them.

Flatline, her silver hair shining in the dim streetlights and her black attire, roamed the streets of Gotham on a mission of her own, though what it was, Damian didn't know. But he did know one thing: Flatline might be the key to finding Reader. He silently jumped down, landing in front of her, cutting her off.

"Flatline," he said coldly, though her heart was beating a little faster than usual. "We need to talk."

Flatline raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised but not intimidated. It had been quite a while since she'd seen him, but she wasn't one to be easily intimidated. "What's wrong, Robin? I wasn't expecting you around here. Are you in the mood for a fight or just bored?"

Damian didn't fall for the banter. "I'm not looking for a fight. I want to know about Reader. I know you know where she is."

Flatline froze for a second, her amused expression fading quickly. Reader's name had changed the tone of the conversation. She fell silent, staring at him, as if she were deciding what to say or how to handle the situation. The tension was palpable.

"I haven't seen Reader since Lazarus Island," she finally answered, her tone more serious than Damian expected. "I don't know where she is."

Damian frowned, clearly annoyed by the answer. "Don't lie to me, Flatline. The last time I saw you two together, before the tournament ended… I saw what happened between you two." Her words carried a hint of defiance, and the memory came back to him sharply: Flatline, kissing Reader in a moment of farewell, just before they each went their separate ways. It had been an unexpected kiss, and though Damian hadn't wanted to eavesdrop, the fact had stuck with him, adding another layer of complexity to his own confusion about Reader.

Flatline tensed visibly. "That's none of your business, Robin. What happened between Reader and me doesn't change the fact that I don't know where she is now." Her words were sharp, but there was also a small crack in her voice, as if Reader's absence was affecting her more than she cared to admit. Her gaze hardened, but Damian could see that she wasn't lying. Flatline really didn't know anything.

The silence between them stretched out, and Damian crossed his arms, sizing her up. Flatline had always been a skilled and lethal fighter, but behind that strength was a vulnerability that he could now read clearly. The fact that she was also searching for Reader, perhaps just as desperately as he was, didn't make him feel any better. If Flatline, who had been so close to Reader, didn't know where she was, that only made things more complicated.

"I thought if anyone would know anything about her, it would be you," Damian said, his tone softer, but no less determined. "You two were together all the time on the island."

Flatline let out a sigh, crossing her arms as she looked at him with a mix of frustration and resignation. "Believe me, if I knew where she was, I would have found her already. After the tournament, Reader left without telling me where. I thought she would go somewhere on her own, or maybe hide for a while. But it's been too long. And believe me, I'm looking for her too."

Damian heard the genuine concern in her voice. Flatline was being sincere, something she rarely showed. And while she didn't normally trust others easily, he could see they were in the same situation.

"Do you know anything that could help?" he asked, less demanding now and more cooperative. "Anything."

Flatline pondered for a few moments, looking out at the horizon, as if trying to recall details that might have gone unnoticed at the time. "All I know is that Reader had no intention of staying in contact with anyone. Not even me. I knew she would leave, but I didn't think she would just vanish like that. It's part of her nature… to disappear when she needs to. But something's not right. I feel it too."

Damian nodded, though his frustration was still lingering. He hadn't gotten the answer he was hoping for, but at least he knew he wasn't alone in the search. Flatline was worried too, and that gave him a slight hint that Reader wasn't simply hiding by choice. Something else might be going on.

"If you find her before I do " Damian said, his voice low but firm, "let me know."

Flatline looked at him, almost surprised by the request. There was an unresolved tension between them, an awkward respect, but also the realization that they both wanted the same thing.

"I will." she finally answered, before turning and disappearing into the shadows of Gotham.

Damian watched her walk away, his mind filled with questions and no clear answers. Flatline knew nothing… but that only meant that Reader was out there somewhere, and probably in trouble. And he wouldn't rest until he found her.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Since I saw Flatline in the comics i fell in love with her, it's just ✨Flatline ✨

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #dcu #dc comics #flatline #Flatline x reader

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