Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.
Summary: You panic as your wedding date draws near and a trip to a famous sex planet doesn't help with these growing emotions. Thankfully, Paul is there to distract you.
Warnings: This is a SMUT! 18+ only, please!! Nothing too bad outside of that though. Oral (f.receiving), mentions(?) of voyeurism, heavy petting and Paul being a simp ™
Notes: this took me three days to write. Um, coughs, this is 3k words and um, uh- yeah.
Part two
“Haven’t you ever wondered if there’s more to life than this?”
Paul looks up from the spread of dessert and frowns, “More than tiny little cakes and–” His eyes dart off into the distance and he snorts.“—Your mother glaring at me? No.” Paul picks up a small tan cake that's decorated in golden dust and hard candy pieces and offers it to you, it's pretty but it reminds you of sand and what you're told about the dunes of Arrakis and not your dream wedding cake. “Cake?”
You accept it and bite into the dessert with a sigh. “I’m serious, Atreides.”
“I like when you call me, Paul.” He offers you another cake, this time a pretty green one that sparkles purple under the chandelier light.
“I’m serious, Paul.” You repeat. You take the green cake and bite into it and he takes the tan, finishing it off. The green cake tastes like sweet wax and months-old honey, but you don't let it show on your face as you hand it off to Paul, him offering you a red one in its stead. “If we weren't the sons and daughters of Lords and Snotty old duchesses who–”
Paul gags as he eats the green one, “You’re horrible.” He turns from you, grabbing a napkin further down the table to spit the cake out. You only grin, taking a bite of the red cake, a splash of apple and spice dances across your tongue.
“—Control our every move, where would we be?” You continue as you offer the red cake to Paul and he takes it with a hesitant look – but he shrugs at your question.
“Not engaged, probably—” He pops the rest of the red cake into his mouth, humming at the flavor. “–Tell me, does this pondering have anything to do with why you were missing from rehearsals and dance practices for the last month?” He tries to hand you a purple, bulbous cake that oozes something blue but your gaze is elsewhere. He hesitates for a moment, then calls your name, “What is it?”
“I visited Gamont.”
The purple cake falls to the table with a wet ‘flop,’ and Paul is hurriedly wiping his fingers off in another napkin. “You’re joking.”
Reeking of sweat, musk and, sex and filled to the brim with bodies from near and far— Gamont was not a planet any good blooded noble would visit. Though most nobles weren't good, they snuck on in ships disguised as cargo loads to visit the best houses or join the various parties that littered the streets. Your family rules over Gamont and three other planets with two other houses but out of the three planets— Gamont was the only one you were barred from visiting.
At your silence, Paul blanches. “You’re not joking, are you?” You shake your head and he lets out a tiny disbelieving laugh. “Come to my room in ten minutes.”
“What?”
He looks around the room brimming with nobles and wedding planners then grins, a boyish one that makes his eyes twinkle. “I want you to tell me of your time in Gamont and–” He licks his lips and it takes everything in you not to watch the action with wide eyes. “No noble would be caught talking about it in the open, right?”
“Of...of course.” You blink owlishly, Paul only grins wider. He begins to walk past you, a gentle hand falling on your shoulder as he does so.
“I’ll leave first, see you.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving you to eye the remnants of him. The little purple cake gives a pathetic ooze and you cringe. What flavor even is that?
***
“Does Gamont really hold week-long parties?”
Anyway from the smell of cakes, perfume, and alcohol– the air feels lighter, sweeter, or maybe, you just felt lighter. In the time you've known Paul as a friend and not a fiance, his room had become a haven, a moment of peace away from the pressure of your family. His room smells like the night that leaks from his open window and the wind blows in the salted scent of the distant Caladan sea and the dew of nearby trees, it wraps around you in a cool blanket as Paul approaches you with a smile.
You meet it in kind, grinning in thanks as Paul passes you a chalice of water– your fingers touch, and he lingers, smiling when he caught your eye before he clears his throat and settles beside you on his bed, “I don't know if they're week long but, when I went everywhere I looked there were parties. I went to one and saw... things.”
Paul ran his finger over the brim of his cup idly. He frowns at your hesitance and shifts closer to you— knees bumping against each other. Your gaze lingers on your touching knees before snapping away when he drops his hand to your thigh and speaks.
“Bad things?”
“No, I don't think….” Your mind shows you flashes of that night, the green eyes of the woman who all but basked in your wide curious eyes as her lover took her against a building. “They were just things, Atreides.”
“Paul.” He corrects and you roll your eyes, a rebuttal on the tip of your tongue but he squeezes your thigh with a wry grin. “You know you can call me Paul— you used to do so without an issue.”
That was true– but your visit was eye-opening in more ways than one. You knew what sex is– whispers of workers and elder cousins taught you little but it taught you enough to know that it happened more with unwed couples than wedded ones— an act of true passion was shared between the press of two naked bodies breaking the societal code and the very definition of pure and true.
Your mother planned to marry you off. You knew since you were fourteen– she'd place you with the highest bidder, a person that would fatten her pockets rather than take care of her daughter but you've been lucky. Lucky that the house of Atreides snagged you before anyone else could and you would marry Paul and Paul– he's great, he's everything a girl like you could wish for but why were you hesitating?
The woman's green eyes flash in your mind again, the rapid rise and fall of her chest– the way her thighs shook around her lover's head and you question it. Would Paul break those rules for you? Would he take you in a way that truly mattered before he took you in the way that society deemed right?
“One day, we'll be married.” You choose to change the subject instead. You push to your feet– away from Paul and his hand falls limp on the bed. He frowns deeply as you speak but you ignore it, placing the chalice on his dresser. “Do you think about it? Us, married?”
“Always.” He admits easily, he follows after you– echoing your steps as you pace around his room. He's grinning again like he knows something you don't, “Don’t you?”
“Every waking moment.” You breathe. You spin to face him, the silk white grab flutters like the butterflies that swarm your stomach as he steadies you by your hips and pulls you close. The two of you wobble backward until your back is pressed against the nearest wall. Paul pushes his hips against yours with that same stupid grin, it only grows when you shudder out a gasp almost arching off against the cool wall and press into him.
“What things did you see on Gamont?” He asks in a whisper, his nose brushes yours and you swallow.
“Simp– simple things– oh…” You break off with a small gasp as his lips ghost your jaw, pressing short, warm kisses leading to your neck. “Paul….”
“Describe them to me.” He pleads and after a moment's pause where he's kissing his way down your neck, he adds a near-silent. “Please?”
His words spark a flame in you and it licks at you, hungry for something, anything as your stomach rolls when he presses a more desperate kiss to your neck, sucking the skin above your thundering pulse and he worries it gently between his teeth— humming when you reach out and grip his forearms. You were many things— but a fool was not one of them, he was baiting you. Paul is surrounded by men, by soldiers his age and older who've traveled to Gamont and came back and told tales– stories of their lays and what could be seen on the street.
But he wants to hear you say it— the so-called filthy things, he wants to hear the way it falls off your pure tongue, he craves the way your face scrunches and your body begins to heat up. He wants you embarrassed because he for some stupid reason he doesn't know why yet— it got him off.
If only Paul knew, he wasn't the one truly in charge at this moment.
The heat in you festers, burning through the thin layers of your dress and zips through your legs that shake under the force of him. He trails up from your neck slowly this time, before capturing your lips in a wet kiss. It's slow, the slide of your lips are nowhere near frantic and he licks at you— across your lips before nipping at them playfully. You part your lips with a small grin, letting him take what control you can give and he goes wild. His tongue slides over yours, then across the room of your mouth, though he quickly pulls back when you let out a breathless giggle at the feeling, his hands slowly dragging your dress up, “Tell me what you saw.”
“My mother—” Another giggle leaves you when he groans, Paul ducks his head to your neck again, kissing and nosing his way around. “–She told me on my wedding night– stars—” He bits down on your neck and rolls his hips sharply into yours. “–That I must lay back and take whatever my husband gave me.”
Paul gives a displeased hum, his hands dropping from your dress that pool around your thighs in favor of finding the zipper on the back of your dress. “Is that so?”
“Yesss...yes–” Your dress falls from your shoulder and Paul falls after it, kissing any piece of skin he could get his mouth on. He skillfully avoids your breast though, choosing to nip at your collarbones. “That I was supposed to go limp and pray he lays an heir in me the first time– Paul!” Your voice goes rigid, a squeak toeing on the line of a squeal as he captures one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks. He pulls away quickly, too quick for your liking but he's kissing you again, desperately this time as he rucks up your dress.
“Tell me what you saw on Gamont.”
“Would you do that to me, Paul?” gasp as he hooks his thumbs on the elastic of your underwear and pulls them down in one swift motion– and suddenly, you wish you wore something pretty, something eye-catching and something that would haunt his mind in his moments alone but the thought leaves you the moment he flings your underwear away and you giggle, your legs trembling. “Would I be nothing but an empty womb to you?”
He pulls back from you, eyes wide. “No.” He answers and you can hear it in his voice that he means it, pure, unfiltered adoration. “No, no, you know you aren't.” He leans forward then, pressing a soft kiss against your lips and you answer in kind– humming against his lips.
“I saw a couple on Gamont,” You start, sighing as he trails down from your lips again this time, he takes his time, he's not rushing– choosing to bask in your soft voice and sighs as he squeezes and prods at your bare thighs. “They were outside an inn and she made eye contact with me as her lover got on his knees, between her legs and stars— she looked like she enjoyed it. She enjoyed me staring at her, she enjoyed the way he licked and sucked on her– do you think– gods– do you think it'd feel that good for me?”
“I can show you.” He groans and it echoes around the room, around your head– he means it and he's already falling to his knees, whispering, prodding, and pulling at your dress. 'Let me show you- let me taste you– I can make you feel good– please my star, please.'
“Okay.” You give a frantic nod while licking your lips.“Okay- yeah– you can-” He doesn't even let you finish before he's on you, there's no need for buildup or teasing— the whole moment has been nothing but teasing— his lips find your clit with scary accuracy and he sucks. Groaning into you when you lurch against his mouth and his hands hold you– pins you in place; against the wall, against him and his mouth, he sucks and he sucks, and when you think maybe, he'd suck again he pulls away and flattens his tongue and licks at you with a passion.
Distantly, under the growing pink cloud of pleasure and lust, you wonder how he knows exactly what to do– he licks at you again, from slit to clit, groaning like the very taste of you gives him pleasure and maybe it does— you wouldn't know, and then, he moans and the vibrations of it all zap up the length of your body and you forget– it doesn't matter, not right now, not ever if he keeps doing what he's doing.
“Paul– fuck, Paul, please.” You don't know what you're begging for, not really, your mind left the station and your body is on autopilot– you grind against his face, against his tongue that slips through your folds and dips inside of you and his nose catches against your clit and oh– “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck–!” Your finger card through his curls and Paul lets you drag him closer– his hands falling from your thighs and to the wall behind you to keep himself steady as you buck against him and it's too much.
Your cousin told you stories about the metaphorical cord that gets wound too tight and it snaps and it makes you go boneless, like the very tether keeping to your planet disappears and you're floating, numb– mindless but you feel good, so good. You had given her a weird look then, a bitter murmur of 'yeah right.’
But, now maybe you understand— but it wasn't a cord and it wasn't floating. There's a dam that overflows, it was a little at first then it's leaking from cracks and then it breaks and you're drowning. Paul's name becomes a chant, a prayer for survival on your tongue and your eyes roll and your thighs clench and clamp– they threaten to give out from under you, to turn to sea foam under the work of his tongue but he doesn't stop, he sucks and he licks and—
“Again.”
Your body seizes at the voice, it's not his, it's not anyone's and yet it commands and it sends you burning and blistering– you hear a sharp gasp that's nearly a scream and your body gives and gives— the dam is already broken but there's a storm powering its waves. You clench, rocking into the only thing that you know, the only thing anchoring and you feel him grin.
“Again.”
You think–barely,– that this may be the way that you die. The constant flow and pull of pleasure, it's stealing your life force— it hooks you by the ankles and drags you deep beneath its depths. Your body gives— and this time it's gushing, you're drowning and it makes you want to scream– to gasp out for air and maybe you do– you don't know, you don't know anything but the waves and his hands soothing and kneading at your thighs, and under the crash of those foamy waves, you hear him.
“It’s over, you did so well–” It melts out of his mouth at a steady pace, melting into nonsensical praise. He calls you pretty, gorgeous, he calls you his in a mesh of words as he kisses his way up your body. When he reaches your face, the grin he held all night is gone– replaced with a fondness that rubs you raw and leaves you bleeding and he kisses you, slow and soft, you taste the salt of you on his lips.
“You're beautiful.”
You laugh against his lips, “I can't feel my legs.” He only gives you a hum and another kiss, pulling you flush against his body and you feel him, through his pants his erection prods at you, and you huff nervously. “Paul—”
His bedroom door slides open. There's a shriek– a familiar one, and a soft ‘oh!’ and Paul is shifting you– trying to cover the sight of you with his own body as his face flames. “Mom– Lady-”
But your mother is hearing none of it. While Lady Jessica politely directs her gaze upwards, a smile pulling at her lips— your mother, however, stomps into his room and yanks you from him. You struggle to fix your dress as Paul reaches for you with a frown.
“Wait–”
“Mom, ow-”
“You never learn!” She continues to shriek, her nails dig past the thin layer of your dress and break your skin. You whimper but she continues and you're nearly halfway out of the room, “You insolent girl— you are lucky! Lucky that, that boy wants to marry you– in all my years–!” Your mom looks like she's stuck between crying and more shouting, and thankfully, she settles with neither. She drags you away from the room and away from Paul. Muttering and cursing to whatever God who dared to listen and you throw one a glance over your shoulder and Paul stares back, his eyes wide– he looks mortified and whatever Lady Jessica says, seems to make it worse.
Meet Cute Story! Your car breaks down and you meet the charming man who fixes your vehicle. Fem Reader.
Warnings - Talking about birth.
~~~~~~~~~~
“No it just pooped out!” You sigh leaning one elbow against the glass of the payphone and holding the phone against you ear with the other hand.
“Okay, calm down. Patty’ll understand, she’s not due for a month right?”
“Yes, I just feel bad is all…” You shut your eyes in frustration.
“Y/N, these things happen. Cars, breakdown. Lives move forward. Just get yourself sorted out alright?” Roger, your Nurse Manager says and then you here the line cut out.
You turn to your busted car through the smudged payphone glass and sigh before turning and calling the number for the tow station.
~~~
“Thank you.” You tip the tow trucker. He grabs the cash from you.
“Thanks Hal, Marty!” You hear a man’s voice call to the truckers. You turn and take a peek at the brunette man waving to them.
The second trucker takes your car off the back of the truck and hops back into the passenger seat, next to the driver. They wave off the man at the station and leave, you and your car here.
You turn to the man who works at the station and stick your hand out, “Hello, it’s kind of urgent.”
He smiles and shakes your hand, “Okay we’ll take a look at it.”
You notice he’s the only one working here. He lets go of your hand and you really take a moment to study him. His tuffs of brown hair parted to the side, deep brown eyes, dimples, yours eyes make their way down to the name on his uniform, Kit.
“Thanks Kit.”
He walks over to your car and opens the hood. You stand on your tip toes from where you’re standing, trying to sneak a peek.
Kit turns his head around, back to you. You pretend you weren’t eavesdropping and look elsewhere. He smirks and chuckles lightly to himself, “Alright, Mrs…?”
“Y/N Y/L/N. And, uh it’s Miss.”
He nods, “Miss Y/N. You can take a seat right there.” He points to two chairs against a wall near the vending machine, “And I’ll tell you what the problem is when I find out.”
“Sure.” You nod and go to sit down.
After a few silent minutes of him checking things under the hood, you grow a little impatient. You really needed to get to your client and your car breaking down was super disappointing.
“Excuse me? Kit?” You stand and walk over to him.
“What can I do for you, Miss Y/N?” He lifts his head to look at you.
“Uh, well how long do you think this’ll take?”
“Ya got somewhere to be?”
“Yes. I’m a nurse-midwife. My client at the moment is 8 months pregnant. We’re birth prepping her so it’s important…” You fidget with your hands while telling him this.
After listening to you he bites his lip, “To be honest ma’am I’m not too sure how long this’ll take. You got a friend to take you to work or something?”
You shake your head, “Only been here for a few months. All my friends are at work. All I do is work.”
“Got no boyfriend?”
You shake your head, “Nope. Got no time.”
He nods and starts to work on the car again, “You look young how’d ya get your job?”
“Started nursing school right outta highschool. Realized that midwives were getting hired like crazy out here… so I moved.” You shrug.
“That’s pretty great. Helping people like that.”
“You help people too. You’re helping me.” You say gesturing to the car.
He doesn’t say anything, but you see his face turns a light pink color and then after a silent moment he clears his throat, “Uh, so I think ya got water in the transmission system.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It probably rained and got in their somehow. We gotta replace some components. Shouldn’t be overnight but… hey it’ll take a while.”
You place you face in your hands and groan, “Okay… thanks Kit.”
“Soda from the machine is on me, using the phone too, oh- and there’s some candy in the drawer.” Kit says walking over to his tool-box and grabbing a part.
“You don’t have to do that-”
“Nah, you’re having a bad day, it’s the least I can do.”
You raise an eyebrow, “No the least you can do is fix my car… everything else is above and beyond.”
He shrugs, “Tip me good?”
You laugh, “You got it.”
~~~
4 hours. Usually 4 hours of getting your car fixed would be hell… but actually you’ve been talking to Kit and drinking a bunch of soda and listening to the radio. Time’s kind of flown by.
“You ever deliver like a real baby?” He asks.
“Yes.” You snort, “It’s my job…”
“No, I know… that’s just crazy though. Like a baby isn’t there one second… and then BANG! All the sudden there a real life kid in front of ya.”
You laugh, “I mean it’s not like that. It is kind of crazy to watch it happen though. The kid comes out, and the whole room lights up, and everyone’s happy all at the same time.” You explain, thinking back.
When you turn you head back to Kit you realize he’s staring at you.
“What?” You ask.
That pink tint comes across his face again and he shakes his head, “Nothing. Just like the way you talk.”
“The way I talk?”
“Yeah. The way you tell stories. It’s like your reading a poem or something.”
You blush for a second and then compose yourself, “Well um- thanks. I like the way you talk too- uh, like your accent.”
“Really? Everyone talks like this around here.” He says focusing on the car.
“No it’s the way you say things. I’ve been here a few months and you sound a little different than everyone else.”
“It used to be thicker.” He chuckles.
“I think it’s great. I could listen to you all day… and I did.” You both laugh.
He has a huge smile on his face, “Alright, look I’ve already given ya free drinks and candy. I’m almost through with the car… you don’t gotta butter me up anymore.”
You smirk and walk over to your open soda bottle on his desk and take a sip. You look back to him and he’s pretending he wasn’t just watching you, turning back to the car quickly. You feel your face heat up… he’s really cute, and kind, and funny, he seems to like you too…
“Okay. I think you should be set Miss Y/N.” He grabs a rag and wipes his hand off.
“Oh, really?” You sound a little disappointed. I mean you really enjoyed sitting and talking to Kit.
He nods, “Yeah. You bring it right back here if it’s givin’ ya anymore trouble, yeah?”
“Okay.” You smile at him and get some money out of your bag, “For the car.” And you get some more cash out, “For the company.”
He takes the money for the car but not the other cash, “You put that right back in your purse. The pleasure was all mine.”
“No, Kit take it.”
“Miss Y/N. I can’t.”
“Why not?” You sigh.
He makes sudden eye contact with you and you feel your legs turn to jelly.
He places his hand on top of your hand with the cash in it and pushes it back down into your purse, your breathless at the skin-on-skin contact. He smirks, “Because it’s not right. Seriously, I had the best time today than I’ve ever had here. And all we did was talk. Keep your money- Hell, I feel like I should be paying you.”
You avert your eyes from his for a moment and look down to notice his hand still on top of yours. His eyes notice this too and he quickly removes it, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” You smile and head over to your car. You get in and realize that he left one of his wrenches sitting in the passengers seat.
“Kit?”
“Yes?”
“You left this here.” You pick it up and hold it out.
He sighs and walks over to you window, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice and you’d come back to return it…”
You laugh and he sheepishly tries to take it back but you retract your arm and put it back in the passengers seat.
“I’ll see you tomorrow when I return your wrench.”
He chuckles and then bites his lip, “Alright, see ya then.”
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