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luminnara · 1 year ago

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Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #TW pregnancy #TW labor and delivery #dune x reader

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thesvnandthemooon · 4 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: smut that was requested for kinktober last year

summary: dark!nat, dom!nat, g!p nat; nat’s an assassin

warnings: blood, murder, weapons, semi-public sex, choking, belly bulge, gagging (?), implied breeding kink. i don't even know at this point

word count: 4.4k

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

>> The Black Widow is known for its striking appearance and deadly mating habits. After mating, the female sometimes kills and consumes its mate, a behavior that has made it infamous. This act of cannibalism, though not guaranteed, has earned the Black Widow a reputation as a dangerous and cold-blooded predator. <<

Natasha wipes her hands as she steps back from the bed. A sliced throat and widened, empty eyes. Mouth open in a silent gasp, fingers loose, chest unmoving. Blood has soaked into the once white bedsheets, a dark crimson color that almost appears black. She examines her work with appreciative eyes, then she swiftly cleans the blade of the knife with the man's silk robe.

She turns around, taking in the bedroom once more — velvet armchairs, placed next to a small table with a bottle of whiskey on it. Framed artwork by well-known artists, an antique clock on the wall. Timeless luxury, way too nice for someone like him. No trace of his connection to the Red Room. Not a single sign of the suffering he's caused.

A box of jewelry catches her eye. She never leaves without a souvenir, so she pops open the lid and fishes out a diamond ring. One that you'll surely like; you always value her little gifts.

Natasha exits the house just like she entered it: deftly, quietly, and without leaving any cue that she was ever there.

. . .

You look up when the door to your apartment opens. It's long after midnight, the kids dressed in costumes have disappeared from the streets hours ago and you have been wondering where your girlfriend is.

"Hey", you say when she enters, eyes raking over her. A black bandana is covering her entire face except for her eyes — piercing green, burrowing into your soul with a kind of ease that's both impressive and unsettling —, and her hands are covered by fingerless gloves. You don't miss the smudges of blood on her fingertips.

"I brought you something", Natasha says, not bothering to greet you first. She plucks a ring out of the pocket of her leather jacket, dropping it into your open palm. "Not sure if it's your style."

You slide it onto your ring finger and inspect it, giving a short hum. So this is where she was.

"It's nice." A blatant lie, but you don't care. Who are you to reject something she gives you?

"It's 'nice'?" She tugs the bandana off, unveiling her face, all while keeping firm eye contact with you. "That's it?"

"It's pretty", you add, watching her move around the room. Natasha seems completely unfazed, just like always. You're not an idiot — you know damn well what she does, where she goes. You know she keeps adding to the long list of victims she hides so well, but you can't bring yourself to care. A messed up part of you even thinks it's hot. "Expensive, too."

"Expensive my ass. You know the material value doesn't matter." She opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, taking a few sips. "What've you been up to all night?"

"Ate dinner. Watched a few movies." You join her in the kitchen, watching her leave bloody fingerprints on the glass bottle.

Natasha hums, turning her head to look at you. Sweatpants, a loose top, looking all tired and ready for bed. She puts the bottle aside before moving closer, backing you into the corner of the kitchen counter.

"Sounds boring", she says quietly, her hands coming up to rest on your waist. More blood, this time staining your clothes. She looks down at your hand, at your ring finger, where the expensive piece of jewelry is sitting. Something about her expression changes — suddenly, it looks stony, bordering on rough. "You know, I don't like this ring on you. It should be in a box somewhere, not on your finger."

You pause at the irritation in her voice. For a moment, you're confused — she brought you this ring, so why is she suddenly pissed? But then the realization hits you, and you start feeling stupid.

She isn't the one who picked this ring out, who bought it for you — so you shouldn't wear it.

"I'll take it off", you say quietly, sliding the ring off your finger and setting it on the counter behind you. "It's not exactly my size, anyway."

Natasha hums, the tension seeping out of her body. She's loving it. The way you're looking at her, like she's your savior and your worst nightmare wrapped up into one. Your voice, meek and soft, with that perfect pinch of fear. She's doing this to you, she's the one who has full control over you.

"You should've joined me", she suddenly says, reminding you of what she's been up to tonight. You pause, eyes filled with uncertainty as you look at her.

"I'm not exactly sure it's my type of activity", you say vaguely, a hint of an apology in your voice.

"Oh really?" She hums, her fingertips brushing under the fabric of your top. "I'm sure it'd be fun. Watch the life drain out of their eyes and whatnot. A really romantic setting."

"Right." You smile slightly as she presses a kiss to your mouth. A taste like spiced honey, sweet with a slow-burning warmth. Cinnamon and cloves, fogging your senses. You push against her, wanting more, but she pulls away.

"Don't be needy", Natasha says, giving you a small smirk before stepping away. "There's this party tomorrow. Are you joining?"

"Is it an after-Halloween thing?", you ask, straightening out your top as you try to ignore the desire coursing through you. Nothing is going to happen tonight, that's almost certain.

"Not really. Just a party."

"Where?"

Her eyes flicker up, amusement and exasperation visible in them. "It's just a party, babe. Now tell me: are you joining?"

You sigh, leaning against the counter. You eye her with mild suspicion — who knows where she'll end up dragging you — but eventually, you cave. "Yeah, sure. Why not."

"Good." She nods, shrugging off her jacket. She's only wearing a tank top underneath, despite the cold fall air, but you're secretly very thankful — her arms come into view, biceps flexing slightly and way too briefly. Then she looks up again, and your gaze meet hers. "Wear something nice."

. . .

Wear something nice — an innocent enough request, but when Natasha says something like this, it has an entirely different meaning.

You spend two hours in front of your closet, digging through dresses and skirts and whatever you have in there. Eventually, you decide on a mesh dress in a dark shade of plum, a rich muteness in its color. A square neck and thin shoulder straps, curve-hugging and leaving little to the imagination. You slip it on, adjusting it slightly without noticing that Natasha is watching you from the doorway.

"Not bad", she finally says, making you turn around. "May I suggest something?"

You watch her as she comes closer, arms wrapping around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. "What?"

"Ditch the bra", she mumbles against your ear, briefly kissing it. "Underwear too, while you're at it."

You pause, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You want me to...?"

"You heard me, didn't you?"

You hum, looking at her through the mirror. Natasha shoots you an expecting look, her hand lightly squeezing your tummy.

"The fabric is quite thin, you know", you say quietly, hoping that'll get her to change her mind. But she just shrugs, still kneading your flesh.

"Fine", you eventually say, causing her lips to twitch into a small, satisfied smirk. She presses a kiss to your shoulder before stepping away again, her one hand shoving into the pocket of her slacks. "Can you at least tell me what your plan is?"

"No", she says innocently, grabbing her gun from the desk before she steps towards the door again. "It'd ruin the surprise."

"Right", you say slowly, watching her leave.

. . .

You didn't mind your lack of underwear while you were at home, or in the car. But now that you're in a crowded room, surrounded by what seems like hundreds of people, you start feeling flustered. You feel exposed, like everyone can see right through you. Which, of course, isn't the case — the dress is definitely long enough to conceal your lack of underwear, and even the fact that you're not wearing a bra isn't as obvious as you thought it'd be. But you know you're not wearing underneath that stupid dress, and that's enough for you to be mildly uncomfortable.

Natasha, however, is loving it. Her arm stays firmly wrapped around your waist as you enter, keeping you close to her side. Her eyes flicker across the room, almost as if she's searching for someone.

"So?", you ask after a few minutes, glancing at her.

"What?", she murmurs reluctantly.

"Well-" You vaguely gesture at your surroundings, still not sure what you're doing here. "Where are we? Whose party is this?"

"Oh." She smirks, squeezing your side before she mumbles into your ear. "If I tell you, you'll leave."

"Of course", you mutter, shifting again and pulling at your dress to readjust it. Natasha notices your unease, so she lightly digs her fingertips into your side.

"Calm down", she mumbles with her mouth next to your ear, her voice low and dark. "No one can see anything. Stop fidgeting."

You huff quietly, reluctantly releasing your dress from your hands. "It's uncomfortable", you complain, a hint of defiance seeping through. Natasha arches her eyebrow at you, leaning in closer as her fingertips dig into your skin.

"Is that attitude I detect?"

You stare at her, quickly intimidated. You shake your head, forcing your expression to be neutral again as you back down. You're in public, but that doesn't mean you should be stepping out of line. "My bad."

Natasha hums, her hand sliding down to your butt for a moment. A light squeeze of approval, then she keeps dragging you through the crowd. So many people, all of them clearly wealthy. Businesspeople, probably — but you're not sure, and Natasha still refuses to tell you.

She doesn't seem to know anyone, either. A few people introduce themselves to the two of you, but you barely pay any attention. Some guy, maybe in his 50s, stops with the obvious intention of raking his eyes over you a few times. You're fully aware why — it's just the tiniest bit too cold, and the thin fabric of your dress is doing a poor job at hiding your discomfort.

When he reaches out his hand to shake yours, Natasha's eyes narrow. It's one step too far, you both know that, so you quickly pretend to be busy with brushing some hair behind your ear and swiftly avoid touching him. He pauses, startled, before pulling his hand back and going back to whatever he was doing before approaching you.

"Quite the move", she says quietly, her voice appreciative, and rubs your side. "Good girl."

You smile, pleased that you managed to satisfy her.

The people milling around the party stop you every now and then, trying to make small talk. Natasha forces herself to engage in polite conversation, her hand wrapped around your waist the whole time. She notices everyone's eyes trailing over your body, not-so-subtle glances and very obvious stares. It's irritating her, which shows in the way her voice changes.

"You seem to be quite popular with the men."

"It's the damn dress", you mutter, your body slightly turned towards her as you keep pushing past smaller groups.

"No", Natasha says gruffly, her hand firm on your waist. The dress may be revealing, accentuating all the right spots, displaying smooth skin. But in the end, the dress is just a dress. "It's you."

You feel your cheeks growing rosy. Clearing your throat, you start adjusting your dress again in hopes to keep the fact that you're currently going commando underneath it concealed. "Maybe both."

Natasha's hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and stopping you from fidgeting. She pulls your hand away from the fabric, her grip firm and unwavering. "Stop fidgeting. We've been over this already."

You give a frustrated huff, shooting one of the staring men an angry, petulant glare. He lifts his hands in defeat, turning around and returning to the woman he was talking to seconds earlier. "I hate the male species."

"Careful, baby", she says, trying to suppress a smirk. Something about the way you lifted your chin in defiance, silently telling the man to fuck off, pleased her immensely. "Let's not cause a scene, hm?"

You hum at her words, your eyes flitting up to meet hers again. You shrug, glancing at the gun that's subtly tucked into her holster and hidden by her blazer. "Why not?", you ask, bringing your mouth closer to her ear. "Causing a scene is your specialty."

"True." She grabs your chin with her free hand, pushing your face away from hers. "Still, I'd rather we get out of here soon. But first —" She pauses, subtly nodding at a man who she's been watching the entire night, "we need to make a detour."

We? Wait, we? You stare at Natasha as her words replay in your head, over and over again and slowly causing you to grow sick to your stomach. A detour. You should've known what that fucking gun was for. Maybe you were in denial.

"We, as in-"

"We as in we", she says impatiently, briefly looking at you. "I need someone to keep watch. There are too many people here for my liking."

No room for argument, that's for sure. You exhale shakily, trying to calm your quickly accelerating heartbeat. "At least tell me who they are."

"No. The less you know, the better."

"Natasha", you say seriously. Surprised by the sudden hardness of your voice — and, also, mildly annoyed —, she grabs your wrist and yanks you closer. A wince escapes you, but you keep talking anyway, your voice a pained whisper. "If I'm involved in this, I at least want to know whether he deserves it."

Her eyes flicker across your face. She's not bothering to hide how unhappy she is with you right now. "He deserves it", she says, keeping her fingers locked around your wrist. "Now stop questioning me and do as told."

Reluctantly, you nod. Natasha turns her attention to the guy again, watching him. She quickly fishes out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen. Moments later, the man excuses himself and starts heading towards a hallway. Natasha pulls you along wordlessly, eyes trained on her target as he disappears down the dark corridor.

He enters an office, the door closing behind him with a soft 'click'. Natasha lets go of you as she reaches for the doorknob.

"Wait here and keep watch."

She doesn't even bother glancing at you before she slips into the office, shutting the door after her.

For an agonizingly long moment, you hear nothing. Utter silence, apart from the sounds coming from the party and your own quiet, ragged breathing. Your heart is thumping in your chest, and you're unable to focus on anything else but trying not to freak out.

When you hear a gunshot — too quiet for anyone else to hear, but definitely loud enough for you to perceive it —, you finally snap out of it. Eyes wide, heart hammering, you turn around.

Hand on the doorknob, twisting it. Pushing the door open.

You look at Natasha, taking her in — no, drinking her in. The blood splattered across her neck and chest, the way her eyes look almost black. Her slightly uneven breathing, the gun in her hand. A smell of gunpowder, acrid and strong, mixed with something metallic and sharp. Adrenaline is pumping through her veins, the tension in the room palpable when your gazes meet.

You didn't expect to feel this way, but you can sense the heat that's beginning to stir in your stomach. Anxiety gives way to desire when she reaches out her hand — a silent command to come over — and you cross the room in a few, quick steps.

Natasha tugs you closer, her lips brushing against your cheek. "Look at the mess I've made", she says quietly, and you follow her gaze to the man lying on the ground. You look at her again — blood splattered across her chest and neck, her eyes trained on you.

You bring your hand up to wipe away a bit of blood that landed on her jaw. "It's hot", you eventually manage to mumble.

"Hm?" She raises her eyebrows, her hands sliding to the small of your back. "Didn't know you were into that."

"Me neither." You wrap your arms around her neck as you nuzzle your nose against hers, your desires clear. It's rare that you're this forward with her, but for the first time in a while, Natasha doesn't seem to mind. She can feel herself getting hard already, your perfume and everything you've said making her head spin.

"Such a little minx", she rasps out, palming at your sides as she starts peppering kisses along your jaw. "Can't believe this shit turns you on. You're fucking insane."

A soft moan slips past your lips. You lift your leg out of instinct, hugging your thigh against her side. Natasha quickly runs her hand down to the underside of your thigh, gripping and massaging the smooth skin. "Fuck me", you whine into her ear, wiping all thoughts out of her brain.

With one swift movement, she clears all the papers and pens off the desk. Then she grabs your thighs, hoisting you up and letting you drop down onto the desk. Her lips are all over you immediately, mouthing at your neck and leaving her marks.

"So greedy", she pants against your skin. Her hands slide up your thighs, pushing up your dress and bunching it up around your hips. "Tell me what you want."

"You", you somehow manage to gasp out. You're hot and flushed all over, your breathing is ragged. A tight coil has started to form inside of you, sparks of need frying your brain into a lump of uselessness. Natasha hums, a quiet, rumbling sound coming from her chest, and moves one of her hands up into your hair. She grabs a fistful and tugs your head back, eliciting a whimpered moan from you.

"I need you to use your words, baby."

"Please." You squeeze your eyes shut, fully aware that you sound absolutely pathetic. "I want you inside of me."

A low groan escapes her. Natasha kisses your pulse point, her teeth grazing over the sensitive spot. "You're so desperate", she mumbles, finally letting go of you to unbuckle her belt. "Begging to be filled up like a whore."

You stifle a sound of want, feeling like you've been set on fire. You bury your face against her neck when she pulls you closer again, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over her skin. A metallic taste of blood, mixed with the bitterness of her perfume. A quiet sigh morphs into a low moan when she slides her fingers through your cunt, gathering wetness.

"Soaked already", she mutters, lifting her hand and slips her fingers past your lips. You suck them into your mouth, tasting yourself on her fingers as you lap at them. Her eyes darken at the sight — so simple, yet there's something so erotic about it. Testing your limits, she pushes deeper and earns a soft gag from you. "Always so eager to please."

She shoves her fingertips against the back of your tongue. Another gag, this time louder, and you feel yourself tearing up. You can see Natasha through a blur of tears, watching the scene in front of her unfold with fascination, her eyes dark and her breathing heavy.

Satisfied, she pulls her fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips.

"You're doing so well", she praises, grabbing your thighs to open you up. She's so hard she can barely think straight, her cock pressing against the fabric of her boxers almost painfully. "Now be a good girl and keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut."

When she finally inserts herself into you, it's like you're seeing stars. A quiet whimper manages to make it past your lips, which Natasha silences by pressing her lips to yours. A messy, uncoordinated kiss, teeth clashing and lips bruising. You feel her bite down on your bottom lip, soothing the spot with her tongue as she starts rolling her hips into yours.

Pained sounds escape you as she fills you up to the brim, stretching you out and making you feel like you're about to rip apart at the seams. She nudges deeper, and deeper, her hand moving to rest flat on your stomach and press down on the little bulge there. You're all but a mewling, whimpering mess, trying your best to stay silent but finding yourself unable to do so.

"So full." Natasha takes your hand and guides it to your lower abdomen, pressing it down and making you feel the outline of herself. The evidence of her inside of you, so tangible, so real. She's nestled so deep inside of you that you aren't sure where you end and where she begins anymore. Pain, pleasure, need; all coursing through your body, making a wave of tremors run through you. "Stuffed to the brim. Fucking slut."

"Please", you somehow manage to whimper, your eyes squeezed shut. Natasha scoffs, thrusting into you in a way that makes the desk shake underneath you. Your eyes snap open, the sensation somewhere between torture and pleasure.

"Eyes open", she commands, chest heaving and eyes darkened. The blood is smeared across her neck and chest, sending another spark of heat to your core. "Close them again and we're stopping this."

You bite back a moan, your hands grasping at her blazer to find some sort of anchor. She thrusts into you again, fingers gripping your hips and probably bruising the soft skin there. Trails of fire shoot through your veins, causing the coil of white heat in you to tighten. The look on your face — dazed, aching, so needy — makes Natasha let out a quiet curse. She dips her face into the crook of your neck, covering your skin in open-mouthed kisses.

Drilling her length into you, her hand reaching for your throat. Her fingers wrap around it, at first loose. But you let out a moan, one that borders on a whine, and she suddenly applies pressure. You choke out a gasp, eyes widening as you can't breathe in anymore. The lack of oxygen causes you to feel lightheaded, elevating every single sensation that you're experiencing.

Natasha smirks against your skin, loosening her grip. You gasp for breath, happy hormones flooding you and leaving a tingly feeling of exhilaration all over.

You get a weird kick out of this entire situation — someone who's caused so much damage and suffering, hovering above you and making you feel like this. Hands that slash throats open, that fire bullets at people without thinking twice, are now roaming your body like you're a piece of art that needs to be both worshipped and destroyed.

"I told you to stay quiet", she mutters, trailing kisses over the spots where her fingers were. "Such a shame you decided not to listen."

You suppress another noise that's threatening to escape you, instead opting for digging your fingertips into her back. Natasha curses again, feeling your nails even through the fabric of her clothes. She slips one of the straps of your dress down your shoulder, exposing more of you to her eyes. Her lips attach to the skin just above the neckline of your dress, sucking a hickey into it.

Her lips travel lower, all while she keeps moving in and out of you repeatedly. Quick, heavy breathing, the legs of the desk scraping over the hardwood floor. Her mouth wraps around your hardened nipple, biting down on it. Your head falls back onto the surface of the desk and lolls to the side, your eyes meeting the gun Natasha discarded just moments ago. Blood is covering a family portrait in speckles, some of it having run down in thin streaks.

"Fuck", Natasha rasps, snapping you out of your dazed state. You wrap your thighs around her hips, tugging her closer and feeling her push against your deepest spots. You feel an ache in your core, pushing for its release, and you finally let another moan slip. But Natasha is too focused on being buried inside you, her cock swallowed whole by your dripping wet cunt, to even register the soft noise. "I'll come inside of you", she mumbles against your breast, lapping at it. "I'll get you nice and pregnant. You'll carry my babies."

You moan, trying to run your hands into her hair but failing due to her braid. "I love you", you whimper out, feeling yourself crumble. You're slowly falling apart, seconds away from that sweet release, and Natasha can tell immediately. She palms at your sides, her eyes looking up at you so she can watch.

"So trusting, so naive", she basically purrs through a mouthful of tit. "Letting yourself be knocked up by a killer. And I thought I was the messed up one."

"I'm close", you moan out, your hands hugging her face closer to your chest. "Please, I-"

"Doing so good, baby", she says breathily, releasing your breast and trailing kisses along the side of it. "So good."

Her hands move down to your thighs again, forcing them apart and nudging deeper. The second her tip pokes against your lower belly again, a wave of relief washes over you.

The orgasm crashes down on you, making you gasp out incoherent sounds. Your entire body is shaking, flushed with heat, and Natasha can feel you clench around her cock rhythmically. She buries her face against the side of your breast, muffled sounds escaping her as she comes inside of you. Thick, white fluid dribbles down your thighs, pooling on the desk underneath you.

Natasha keeps going until your vision goes black, her body rolling into yours and driving you to the point of overstimulation. You come a second time, only seconds later, and then slump onto the surface of the desk. You feel like you're one raw, exposed nerve, the aftershocks making your body buzz and your brain unable to function properly.

"Look at you", she mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips as she reaches for her gun again. "Now I've made two messes."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #marvel mcu #x reader #fanfic #wlw #lesbian #wlw smut #smut #oneshot #moon’s fics

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exhaled-spirals · 2 months ago

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« First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world — a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring — this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth.

Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else — but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.

It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain. »

— Carson McCullers, The Ballad of the Sad Cafe and Other Stories

#quote #carson mccullers #love #english

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astrolook · 1 month ago

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🔍✨ Darakaraka Secrets: What Kind of Marriage Will You Have? 💍📜

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home!

Please read this: North Node involving with DK in the same house can point to marrying someone who is of a different cultural background, same-sex relations, 2nd marriage situations, marrying a widow/ divorcee, marrying with children, short-lived marriage, different religion, different social status, elopement marriage, against family wishes or just half-heartedly approve of, etc. These are all possibilities of Rahu being involved in the same house and any of the possibilities listed here might apply to some degree.

DK planet in 1st house - Spouse is likely from your own cultural background/faith unless Rahu (North Node) is involved in 1st house. If Rahu is there, it can sometimes point to an unconventional marriage, like 2nd marriage situations, different religion, marrying a divorcee, same-sex relations, etc. You choose your partner and won't listen to family members' wishes unless Saturn is in the same house or as DK planet. If Jupiter or the 9th house lord is involved, your family might choose or introduce your spouse to you, but you have the final say. If Mars is involved, it can indicate a quick marriage, and your family might or might not accept your spouse.

DK planet in 2nd house - A "family approved" or "semi-arranged marriage" where your partner fits well with your background and financial goals. If Rahu is present, it might mean your spouse comes from a different community, financial situation, or social circle, adding some excitement and variety. Mars here can bring a bit of spark or occasional disagreements around family or money, while Saturn may delay marriage but helps build a stable, long-lasting relationship and the Sun points to a status-driven marriage.

DK planet in 3rd house - You and your spouse may be like teammates, supporting each other’s goals and challenges. If Rahu is here, the marriage could be with someone unconventional or from a different cultural background. Mars adds energy and passion but can also bring occasional disagreements, while Saturn encourages patience and building a strong foundation together but can be restrictive at times if in earth signs. After marriage, you may distance yourself from your interests, hobbies or family either by choice or because of spouse. They might live in the same hometown as you. Overall, it’s a marriage built on active connection and shared experiences, not just tradition.

DK planet in 4th house - You’re likely to marry someone who brings joy, beauty, and harmony to your domestic life, think of a partner who values family and nurturing. If Venus influences this placement, expect a romantic and affectionate relationship filled with mutual care and both spending a lot together. With Sun involved, the spouse may be confident, protective, and proud, often taking a leadership role in the home, dom at times and occasionally wants things their way. Mars can add passion but also some occasional fiery arguments and one of you won't get along well with the others' family, while Saturn brings stability and commitment that deepens with time but also distant in family matters at times. Overall, it’s a marriage built on love, security, and shared happiness.

DK planet in 5th house - You’re likely to marry someone you genuinely enjoy being with, someone who feels like a best friend or creative partner. If Venus is involved, the relationship is charming, romantic, and full of sweet gestures. Sun can make the spouse proud and expressive, possibly someone in a respected or creative field. Mars adds passion and excitement but might also bring drama or quick tempers. Saturn tones things down, bringing seriousness and long-term loyalty, though it may delay marriage slightly and childbirth can be delayed as well. Overall, this is a vibrant, heartfelt, and emotionally rich marriage. Can point to a big fat Greek wedding kind of marriage.

DK planet in 6th house - A spouse who is hardworking, service-oriented, or someone you meet through your daily routine or work life. The marriage might not feel dreamy at first and it often takes effort, compromise, and maturity to make it thrive. If Venus is here, there’s potential for love and affection, but it may need more nurturing. Sun can bring a proud or authoritative spouse, possibly career-driven, in some cases, can indicate a spouse who micromanages everything. Mars may cause conflicts or power struggles if ego isn’t kept in check, while Saturn indicates a marriage that can be restrictive or loss of freedom in some way. Overall, it’s a realistic, grounded type of marriage that's less about fairytales, more about building something solid through shared effort. This can point to a marriage in the city, crowded areas, etc.

DK planet in 7th house - You tend to attract a spouse who balances or complements you in some way. If Venus is involved, the marriage is loving, romantic, and emotionally fulfilling. With the Sun, the partner may be confident, dominant, or admired socially and also the one who rules the roost. Mars adds attraction and passion, but can also bring occasional friction or power dynamics. Saturn may delay marriage or create a serious tone in the relationship, but it also promises loyalty and commitment over time. Overall, this placement supports a classic partnership that's public, impactful, and often karmically significant. Your family members usually approve of this relationship. This can point to a court-house wedding or wedding done in front of a government offical or in a church if you're religious.

DK planet in 8th house - A spouse who may trigger deep emotional or psychological changes in you, think soul-level growth, not surface-level romance. The relationship may involve secrets, trust-building, or unexpected life shifts after marriage. If Venus is here, there’s emotional depth and sensuality, but the bond may go through highs and lows. Marital status would be secret or private. With Sun, the partner may be powerful or intense, sometimes dominating the relationship dynamic. Mars can bring passion but also volatility or control issues if not handled maturely. Saturn adds a heavy, serious tone, marriage may feel like a responsibility or come after hardship, but it can be deeply loyal and long-lasting. Both Mars and Saturn in RARE cases, point to the death of a spouse. Overall, it’s a life-altering kind of marriage, meant to shake you and shape you.

DK planet in 9th house - You may marry someone from a different background, country, or belief system or someone who expands your worldview. This placement leans toward intercultural, interfaith, or destination-style or elopement marriages, especially if there’s travel or education involved. If Venus is here, the marriage is affectionate and idealistic, often built on shared values or philosophies. Sun brings a spouse who’s respected, possibly a guide or mentor-type figure. Mars adds boldness; your spouse could be driven or adventurous, but debates over beliefs are possible. With Saturn, marriage might be more traditional, delayed, or with someone older or wise beyond their years. Overall, it’s a meaningful, growth-oriented union, often influenced by fate, travel, or purpose.

DK planet in 10th house - A partner who is goal-oriented, practical, and socially visible, someone who influences your image or helps elevate your professional standing. If Venus is here, the relationship blends love with shared ambitions or creative work but also status driven marriage or marrying for/into money. Sun brings a confident, possibly high-profile spouse who wants respect and recognition. Might expect you to treat them like a king/queen. Mars adds drive and motivation, but can also bring clashes over control or career priorities and can be a brat or childish at times. Saturn brings stability and marriage is a milestone but also staying for "reasons". Jupiter here brings luck and change of status after marriage. Overall, this points to a partnership built on mutual achievement, where love and ambition go hand in hand. This might point to a big wedding where the couple or their family throw a lot of money to show off.

DK planet in 11th house - The spouse might feel like your best friend first, or someone you meet through community events, online platforms, or mutual friends. It also points to a desire-based or wish-fulfillment marriage, the kind of relationship you’ve always hoped for or dreamed of. If Venus is here, it’s a sweet, affectionate bond with a lot of fun and emotional connection. Sun brings a charismatic spouse with strong leadership vibes. Mars adds passion and energy, though occasional ego clashes over independence might happen. Saturn may delay marriage but ensures long-term support and loyalty. With Jupiter, the spouse is wise, optimistic, and growth-oriented, possibly someone from a well-connected or respected background and of higher status. Overall, this is a hopeful, fulfilling, and future-forward type of marriage, where partnership feels like a team built on dreams and shared visions. It can point to a destination wedding or an intimate wedding.

DK Planet in 12th House - The spouse is often someone private, emotionally deep, or from a different culture or country. Marriage tends to be unconventional, often secretive, long-distance, or even an elopement against family wishes. These unions may involve strong karmic bonds and spiritual growth, with relationships developing quietly behind the scenes. Sometimes, marriage happens in foreign lands or through hidden circumstances, and there can be challenges related to acceptance or social norms. Overall, it’s a marriage focused on emotional depth, privacy, and crossing traditional boundaries. With Rahu involved, elopement is highly likely with an unconventional spouse. With Mars, you might marry someone even against your own wishes (seen in some, not a fact). With Sun involved, a foreigner or different cultural background is likely, and spouse might be known for something in them.

Wanna dive deeper into your chart's layers? ✨🔍 DM me for a full astrology reading, a 5 or 8-year marriage report, detailed synastry, or a kundli matching breakdown 🌙💬 Check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐💖

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