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monamipencil · 1 month ago

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── 𝗠𝗥. 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗥𝗦. 𝗬𝗢𝗢𝗡 ft. jeonghan

⛧synopsis; an intrusion, a couple, a murder and a twist. — second fic of lola's spooktober

⛧ pairings; husband! jeonghan x fem! reader ⛧ genre; smut, gore, horror ⛧ w.c; 4.1k+ ⛧ warnings; hybristophilia, body worship, blood, murder/death, description of corpse, sex on the dining table lmao, HORNY fucking, unprotected sex, oral (f.receiving) creampie, allusions to cults, devil worship, etc etc. mentions of food ⛧ a/n; *clears thorat* *coughs* im so sorry for the delay lmao, i was absolutely not motivated to write. but anyways, enjoy!!

READ AT YOUR OWN CAUTION ⛧ MDNI

[ 07th October, 2024 ]

Thunder crackles, and lightning strikes. The heavy rain pitter-patters on the windows and roofs. Water flows, flooding the streets, making them inhabitable to unlucky strays. Chaos brews outside, and you observe it from within the safety of your home.

A ‘meow’ shifts your attention. You smile at the cat you rescued from the storm and rub its head. It meows again and shuffles to the living room, black fur disappearing behind the couch.

“-And everyone is requested to stay at home or take shelter till further notifications. Police’s investigation into the recent murders have been halted due to the storm. We request everyone to stay sa—”

The television cuts off and comes alive again, buzzing and glitching. You turn it off with a sigh. Except for the pitter-patter of the rain, your home is silent. The silence lays heavy on the walls and floors. You can’t seem to fill it no matter what. Your hand involuntarily touches the pendant your husband gifted you. Muttering a prayer to Him, you ask for Jeonghan's safe return to you.

[ ... ]

The gentle sizzle of the vegetables fills your ears, and you pour water into the vessel, turning down the flame.

Your newly adopted cat nuzzles between your legs, purring with content at the warmth. You smile and coo at it. But before you can adore it further, the doorbell rings.

You wipe your hands, contemplating whether or not to attend it. It couldn't be Jeonghan. You sigh and walk to the door. The black furball stays in the kitchen, observing you with its yellow eyes.

Looking through the peephole, you see someone shivering from the cold and absolutely drenched. Your hands fly to unlock the door, and the person is startled at the force you open it.

“Come in, please!” you move from his way. He nods his head with gratitude and walks in weakly.

Quickly shutting the door, you lock it. The stranger turns to see you secure the array of locks on the door. You greet him with a smile. He smiles back.

“I'm sorry for the inconvenience,” he apologizes, but you assure him and welcome him into your home. “Oh no, It's fine. I don't mind some company.”

He removes his drenched coat and hangs it on the coat hanger. While doing so, he notices another coat on it. “Is it just you at home, miss?”

“Mrs.” You correct him and reply, “Yes, my husband is out of town for business.”

He also removes his shoes and places them near the door, noticing another pair of shoes. “May I ask you why you are out in such a storm?”

“Ah, I turned up for work and my friend who was supposed to pick me didn't turn up.”

You give him an apologetic nod and gesture towards your living room. “Please make yourself at home. I'll quickly put together a warm soup for you.”

He tries to protest, but you reason with him and disappear into the kitchen. He sits on the sofa with a sigh and thanks God for helping him at the right time.

The low purr of a cat catches his attention. A black cat sits in the middle of the living room. It stares at him, and he awkwardly smiles at it and tries to distract himself. It leaves eventually.

The interior of your home mesmerizes him, reminding him of those vintage homes. The teal wallpapers and the antique decors mesh well together and create a homely look. The myriad of pictures on the wall near the kitchen intrigues him.

He walks towards it and observes each photo. He sees you in all of the frames, along with a man whom he deduces to be your husband. He sees all types of pictures, varying from road trips to studio ones.

“Is your husband a celebrity by any chance, Mrs. Yoon?” He inquires after seeing a frame with the writing, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Yoon.’ A vague feeling of familiarity brews in him the more he looks at your husband.

“Ah, no, no. He's devilishly handsome and he could be a great actor but he only does business.” You voice from within the kitchen, but his mind drains you out. He's more fixated on the pictures, unable to shake the feeling.

He doesn't say anything after that, but you don't mind the silence. Quietly humming, you put together the soup. You smile to yourself, thinking of your husband. If he had been here, he'd be behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he peppers kisses on your neck.

Your daydream feels almost real as you feel a presence behind you. Chuckling, you shake your head and move to grab a bowl. But before you could, a voice shouts behind you.

“Did you kill him?!” The stranger yells, anger surging through his voice. Confusion strikes you, “What do you mean?”

You try to distance yourself from him and grab a knife. His hand catches your wrist harshly, and you cry out. Acting on your instincts, you fling the pot of soup at him. He yelps as the hot liquid makes contact with his skin.

With him muttering a plethora of curses, you run out of the kitchen. The cat observes the chaos, slowly wagging its tail. The stranger blindly moves to the sink and splashes water on his face to wash off the soup.

After gaining composure, he trudges out of the kitchen with a meat knife. He checks every door and room, eyes darting to all corners to find you. His skin stings and burns painfully. He winces but doesn't let it deter him.

The floor creaks beneath his foot, and he doesn't care if it alerts you. He wants you to know where he is, to be afraid of him. He wants to make you feel fear.

A smirk pulls his lips when he notices the basement door open. He stands in front of it, observing the steep set of stairs. As he descends down, a foul stench hits him, and he covers his nose.

He struggles to find the light switch and crashes into a few things. The stench is unbearable, and he cringes. After finally finding the switch, he turns it on.

Light illuminates the room, but some things are better hidden in the dark, like the dead guy tied to the wall. He can't find it in himself to scream or even utter a word. The only noise that escapes him is a gasp.

His horror intensifies when he recognizes it as his friend. “You fucking bitch! You killed him!”

But it seems that there are far graver things than his dead friend. The red pentagram etched on the ground makes his skin crawl. A turn of his head also reveals a board pinned with a map that has pictures of people pinned on several locations.

His heart stops beating when he finds his own picture on it.

A noise from the cupboard pulls him out of his trance, and he stalks to it. Yanking the door open, he finds you there, cowering in fear. You push him off you and run away from him. But there's no way out with him standing directly in front of the stairs.

He runs to you, pinning you to the wall. “You bitch!” Then, he cackles, “Aww, can't run anywhere now?” His grip tightens, and dread fills your gut. He leans in closer, “You're going to be so sorry for what you did when I gut you.”

You flinch and shut your eyes. The sound of a stab echoes through the room, but you don't feel any pain.

A heavy thud echoes through the room, followed by the sound of a body falling on the floor. Warm blood dots on your face, and some stain the cotton of your slip. You gasp and shudder, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. Your eyes land on the injured body. Blood flows from his mouth and his chest. Three holes punctured through his chest.

You don’t need to look at him to figure out who your savior is. “Jeonghan!” you cry, throwing your arms around him. The garden fork he yields in his hands meets the floor as he hurries to take you in his embrace.

Your lips are on his instantly, kissing him with ardor. He matches your passion, both his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him. You curl your arms around his neck, lost in the warmth of his lips. It isn’t long before his tongue prods your lips, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

His tongue glides over yours like it has countless other times. He shifts his head to gain a better angle and kisses you deeper. One of your hands uncurls to caress his face—his flawless skin, his high cheekbones, the bone of his jaw before it slides down further. You glide your hand over his shoulders, his lean biceps, and finally his crotch.

Jeonghan pulls away, out of breath and overjoyed. You mirror his grin when you find him rock-hard beneath his slacks. “Oh, how I missed seeing you kill,” you finish with a giggle.

With a playful roll to his eyes, he retorts, “it’s been barely four days since I did it.”

“And four days since I’ve seen you.” you pout, making him doe eyes at him. He melts instantly and cradles your face. “Always hungry aren’t you?”

“For you? Yes.”

“And for blood.” he adds, making you both giggle.

“Come on now, you gave me something to take care of.” With a pat on his bulge, you pull him up the stairs. Jeonghan happily follows but throws a cautious glance at the presumably dead body. He smiles, catching no sign of life in him, and trails behind you.

You strut to the dining table that adjoins the kitchen and the living room and sit on it. He grins at your place of choice, and lust taints his visage when you spread your legs, inviting him.

He stands between your thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty in front of him. Little drops of blood decorate your face, but the look in your eyes entrances him. A myriad of emotions swirl beneath your irises, but he recognizes all of them, mainly lust and hunger.

His eyes dip down to the column of your neck, which he glides his forefinger over. His finger slowly ventures down and undoes the knot of your slip. He tuts, complaining about the blood on them. “That’s fine. It gives me evidence of your love.”

“I’m right here. The living proof of my love for you,” he pecks your lips and pushes the slip off you.

He pulls you to the edge of the table. His fingers ghost over the cloth of your underwear, brushing against the wet spot on them. His warm breath wafts down to your breasts when he kisses your neck and chest. “I can prove it now, if you want me to.”

A breathy moan escapes you, giving him somewhat of a ‘yes.’ With another kiss to your jugular, he pulls away and kneels down. He kisses your heat through the cotton material and smirks, eyeing the wet patch formed by your arousal. In one sly movement, he removes your hipsters. His lips are on your heat before you can process it. He kisses your little nub and gives kitten licks to your hole. His eyes dart to your eyes, mischief swirling under his dark irises. “Jeonghan! Please!”

“Please what sweetheart? You have to use your words.” You feel his smile on your core, and his warm breath wafts against it.

“Please, eat me out!”

He groans and obliges to your wishes right away. He dives right in, licking and kissing your folds. He moves above, wrapping your clit between his soft lips. He sucks on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking at the bud softly. He makes sure to look at you the entire time he’s buried between your legs.

You relax and lay back down on the table. He spreads your legs further and licks up stripes on your sopping cunt. His tongue provides you the utmost pleasure, and moans fall from your lips freely. He switches to a slower pace as if he’s making out with your cunt.

His tongue prods your folds, licking and savoring your taste. His hand moves to spread your lips, and he places a wet, loud kiss on your clit. A gasp escapes you when his tongue slips past your hole. He slowly moves his tongue in and out while he thumbs at your clit, drawing circles.

He tones up his pace, getting faster and faster. Your legs tremble around his head as the coil in your stomach tightens. You cum the easiest whenever Jeonghan touches you after a “long time”—which is three days at the least. He seems to have some magic hidden up his sleeve to bring you the utmost pleasure possible. And, of course, all your years of marriage add to it.

The pressure on your clit builds up, causing your entire body to shudder and tremble. Your back arches, lifting off the table, but Jeonghan pushes you down, holding you firmly. And now that he has secured a tight grip on your hips, there is no escape from his tongue.

“Jeonghan!” you moan his name, hand shooting to grip his black locks. You push his head further into your cunt and move your hips in sync with his tongue. He smiles lazily between your legs, eyes holding nothing but awe and mirth.

The coil snaps, pushing you over the crescendo of pleasure. Wanton moans fill the room, and you cum on his tongue, giving him all your sweet nectar. Jeonghan licks you dry, caressing your trembling legs before he stands up.

Though you achieved your climax, the sight of your husband undoing his belt warms you up again. You sit up eagerly, hands flying to unbuckle his belt and slacks. He only chuckles, patting your head and muttering a low coo of ‘that's my girl.’

He slips off his shirt along with his slacks and boxers. It prompts you to undo your brassiere, presenting yourself bare to him. With a grin, he approaches you. You fawn at his rock-hard cock and undo your legs unconsciously.

Overwhelmed with the urge to feel him inside you, you pull him to you. He crashes his lips on yours in the process, giving you a searing kiss that sets your body aflame with desire. Your hands don't stay put, eager to roam all over his body. He does the same, hands relearning the route of your body for the nth time.

The heat of his body on yours melts your brain, knocking every thought out of you. The only thing you remember is his name and the way he makes you feel. Not the dire situation at play now or the dead body in your basement.

The brush of his fingers on your nipples, the poke of his cock against your inner thigh, the sensation of your sweltering skin making contact with his, the glide of his tongue on yours—all of it pushes you over the edge, driving you insane. Your arousal drips down your core, and it throbs with desire.

“Hannie,” you whine his name, your desire burning with a rage only he can control. “Fuck me.”

“As you wish, dollface.”

His cock slips past your entrance with ease, filling you up in an instant. You hook your legs behind him, your foot digging into his back to push him in further. Your gummy walls envelop him in a warm hug that makes him dizzy.

You moan in unison when he bottoms out, in bliss with how perfectly he fills you. Throwing your arms around his neck, you prompt him to move. The first thrust is easy, given how your cunt drips down with arousal. It fills you with a pleasure that makes your body tremble.

He sets his pace, fucking you with eagerness. Each slap of his balls against your ass makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you cling to him for dear life. Sinful moans rumble from your throat with each snap of his hips.

His lips find yours again, but this time the kiss is sloppy and messy, with moans passed between your tongues and erratic snap of his hips. You meet his hips with the same vigor. You fuck him with an animalistic desire in your veins, and he gives you back just the same.

“Ah—fuck! God, I love fucking after we kill.” you yelp between your moans. He groans, replying with a “fuck, yes.”

Jeonghan grips your hips firmly, driving his cock in and out of you with a vigorous pace that numbs your nerves. Your nails dig into his back, and you scratch his delicate skin, leaving red marks for him to admire. “Ah, ah, ah, ah!” you moan, unable to control your pleasure. The table squeaks in response to the vigor of his hips. You press your tits against his chest, desperate to feel more of his warmth.

You look down to where your body meets him. The sight of his cock disappearing into your cunt with a wet squelch each time makes you moan. A creamy ring forms at the base of his cock, and some of your arousal drips down to the table.

Jeonghan shifts one of his hands to harshly grip the back of your head, forcing you to look up at him. A grin decorates his face at the hazy look in your eyes. He keeps up his pace while moving his other hand to squeeze your mouth open. You push your tongue out eagerly, waiting for him to spit in your mouth. He does, and you happily taste him before swallowing it.

“Good girl,” he kisses your forehead, sliding his hand down to wrap around your throat. He grips your throat, squeezing it lightly. A chuckle erupts from his chest, watching your eyes roll back. He kisses your forehead again, only for him to deliver light slaps to your cheeks. Warmth pools in his chest when you whine and push yourself closer to him.

“Fuck, I love it when you go dumb on my cock.” He whispers into your ear, tickling you with his breath. His cock kisses your sweet spot, and you feel him twitching inside you.

You clench around him on purpose. He groans a low curse, and his movements turn erratic. You continue to do so till he eventually stops, whining a string of curses. “Stop it. Stop doing that,”

Obliging to his wishes, you observe him as he takes a few seconds to compose himself. His eyelids flutter, and his lips fall apart as he tries to regain control. A knowing smirk graces your lips, knowing the effect you have on him.

“Brat,” you only giggle in response, which is cut short when he thrusts with a force that has you shuddering. His tip kisses your cervix, sending shudders of pleasure through your body. Tears prick your waterline and eventually cascade down your cheek as you cry out his name.

All it takes is one more thrust to push you over the crescendo again. This time, it's more intense and mind-numbing. You moan his name over and over again, like a prayer for salvation. He follows suit and fills his load inside you, shuddering the same as you.

His hands wrap around you tightly and, yours around him. Leaning your head against his shoulders, you catch your breath and try to control the shivers through your body. His warm breath on your back calms you, and so do his feather-light touches.

Your eyelids feel heavy as slumber descends upon you. And, before you know it, you fall asleep in his arms.

[ … ]

“We have to let the others know about this,” Jeonghan informs, stirring his cup of tea with a spoon. You nod wordlessly, sipping your own cup of tea.

Slumber hasn't left you completely, and the tiredness weighs down on your bones. Your eyes slowly close shut again, and you lean back on the loveseat. Jeonghan sighs to himself, setting his cup down on the coffee table. He takes away yours before you can spill it on yourself.

Your soft groans make his heart flutter, and you stir awake again. The first thing you see is your husband sitting on the floor as he massages your legs.

“Poor thing, you must've had a hard time.” The pout on his lips makes you smile. “Not really,” you chirp, feeling more energetic as the seconds pass.

“Oh really?” he muses, and you hum. He shakes his head, worry marring his features. “What if I didn't get here on time? Why did you even allow him in?”

“I was bored.” To which he glares at you, a tired sigh falling from his lips.

“And, He visited.”

Jeonghan stops massaging your legs and looks up at you, confused. You see the tinge of fear in the clench of his jaw and the hold of his breath. You point to the black cat that has made itself home despite all the chaos that went down a few hours ago.

He visibly calms down and bows his head at the cat meows in return. He looks back at your smiling figure, and it strikes him. “Right, I asked for your safety to Him.”

“He saw our pictures,” your words barely audible as you look at the big wall covered with all your pictures with him. A soft smile graces your lips when your eyes fall on your wedding picture. 14th October, 1949.

Then you cackle, recalling the realization and terror on that guy's face. “Oh, you should've seen his face.” Jeonghan laughs along with you and resumes his ministrations on your legs. You relax on the cushion and let out a blissful sigh.

He sighs and zeroes in on the blood spots on your vintage slip. One of his many gifts to you, and it's something you've treasured for over seven decades.

“Ugh, it's fine. You can always buy me a new one.” You say, and a smirk adorns your lips when your eyes fall on the Johnny Cash vinyl on the shelf. You stand and walk towards it, pulling it out gently.

You flash your husband a grin, and he mirrors your visage. Placing the vinyl on the platter of the vinyl player, you move the tonearms and set it on the vinyl.

The world tunes into a buzzing background as you dance with him. His hands are gentle on you, holding you delicately. The setting is all a little too familiar to him, and before he knows it, he takes a trip down memory lane.

But the only one he can remember is the time when he almost lost you to death. The image of your bed-stricken figure flashes through his mind. He holds you a little closer.

In his life plan, Jeonghan never even imagined that you'd be diagnosed with cancer fifteen years into your marriage. Nothing held out, and it was hard to be optimistic with his wife on the lifeline.

And as he was holding your pained body in his arms, he cried and cried. What kind of god would allow this? Why should you be taken away? He felt life slowly slip out of you, and he couldn’t stop it.

They say to never pray to the gods that answer at night, but that’s all he could do. Turning his back on religion and righteousness. His love for you blinded all reason, and he yearned to be in your embrace once again. He could never live without you—what he feels is an immortal desire, lust, love. Even if he is to die, the ground around him will flourish and sprout your favorite flowers—an amaranthine yearning.

So he did it. He prayed and prayed, and when He finally answered, he vowed to do anything and everything that He wished for. Immortality for the curse of bloodied hands. He cringed at the sight of blood staining his skin, but as your bloodied hand intertwined with his, all felt right and in place.

His hands take purchase on your hips, holding you as you sway to the gentle hum of the music. You smile at him and lean on his shoulders, content in his embrace. He mirrors your smile and kisses your forehead.

What a blessing it is to be here with you? To gently sway to some music in the living room of your home with your blood-stained slips and his stained soul?

He kisses you, and you kiss him back. You bite his lips just enough to draw blood. A thousand ways to bleed, but you are his favorite.

⛧spooktober taglist !

@verogonewild @blancflms @chromequette @junniepookiedookie @kyeomiis

@jeonghnie @scoupsieee @xuminghaes @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ririesna

@monstacheol @hoshiskimchi @miyx-amour @woozidanisms @choco-scoups

@cookiearmy @shadowyjellyfishfest @wonwoossecret @strxwberry-skiess @iamawkwardandshy

@merakilles @vitaminkyeom @okiedokrie @armycarat2612 @gyuguys

@idubiluranghae @goodforgyu @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @gyubakeries @nonuify

@aaniag @4cheezflatbred

#lola's spooktober ⛧#jeonghan smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan #seventeen #jeonghan drabbles #jeonghan hard hours

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arabellasleopardcoat · 11 months ago

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Bestiary (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Warnings: Heavy smut, not much dialogue. P in V sex. First time.

A/N: Who would have thought the most enthusiastic consent I have ever written with Daemon would be in a fic with nearly no dialogue?

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

As any good hunter, you had watched your prey first, taking notes of his behavior. Only an afternoon was needed to understand you started the race with a disadvantage. His eyes followed Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys and her little daughter, but never lingered on other women.

While you might have lacked the silver hair, you did not lack the wits and charms necessary to be taken in consideration.

You had needed a few days to ready your song, but you had approached him not even a week later. He had been sitting in the library, so you had knocked on the table twice to draw his attention.

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

Such was the fate of the daughters of powerful men. Sold to other powerful men, old enough to be their fathers, birthing them their own litter of sons and daughters. Sons that would grow up to become powerful men in their own right, daughters that would become pawns to establish dynasties. On and on it went.

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

No silver hair, no words, but plenty of resources. You had placed the book you had brought with you on the table, and looked at him.

His eyes had lit up with curiosity. He recognized the title. He spoke again, intrigued.

Despite his tone sounding much more auspicious, you had no other option than to shake your head and speak, with a tremulous voice.

“Bodmagho.” It's the only word you know, one that you have prepared especially for this. But just in case your pronunciation is not perfect, you open the book and mimic the gesture of passing the pages.

Daemon looks stunned. He says something else, still in the Common Tongue. You were able to tell from the intonation he was asking a question, but you didn't know what it was about.

“Bodmagho.” You repeated, stubbornly. You placed your book down and pointed to it.

Daemon sighed. He pointed to the chair. You sat, happy as a clam.

“Prince Daemon.” He pointed at himself. Then, to you. “Lady…?”

You told him your name. He nodded.

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

You stared. He shook his head again. You understood that no, daor and shaking head meant the same.

“Daor. No.” You shook your head. Daemon squeezed your shoulder, a proud smile on his face.

Your father told you that afternoon that you were to be married to him. Just as you had made efforts to catch Daemon, your father had been setting his trap.

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

You get no further lessons.

This is how you manage to get to your wedding feast only knowing two words. Teach and no. It makes you the most riveting company, and so, it's no wonder you are soon ushered into a chamber with your new husband.

You had not noticed before, but it is the first time you are alone with him since the morning at the library. To you, it had been a matter of no consequence. You had to marry a powerful man, one day. Your father decided it should be him because he wanted dragons. It was as simple as that.

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

Your family moved here for that reason. An opportunity to get richer could not be dismissed. Your father had taken one look at the dragons and decided that they were the key to turning his legacy into an empire.

Giant war machines that could level castles in one afternoon. Raze a city to the ground in mere hours. Fire so hot it could melt stone. They could not be bought, you had to be a Targaryen to have them. It was only natural to turn into one, then.

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

His face is thunderous. You can tell he is about to berate you. He starts talking, brows pinched together and an accusing finger pointed towards you.

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

It was the wrong choice. Daemon's face turns even more murderous. His lips twist into a snarl, teeth bared. His posture turns aggressive. He puffs up his chest, he advances on you. The Prince tries to intimidate you through his body language alone.

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

Daemon is terrifying. You will not cross him again, you think to yourself. Only a fool goes around poking dragons with a stick. You feel your palms starting to sweat, a knot forming in your throat. You fight the urge to cry.

The back of your knees hits the mattress, and you fall into the furs with a small noise of surprise. Your husband does not lose any time. He gets right into your face, trying to intimidate you even more.

But if you hope to survive this marriage, to make it work as your father has requested, you can't bend. Daemon will never respect you if you do. He will see you as no more than a frightened girl, who will not disagree with him and serve for little beyond warming his bed. You are not that. You will build an empire, a dynasty out of his dragons and your wealth. The only thing you can do is persevere or break trying.

Daemon scowls at you. He notices the change in your eyes, the fight coming back to you.

“Daor.” You say, staring him down with all your might. It doesn't matter if you are lying down, and he is hovering over you, pinning you under him. You will triumph.

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

Despite knowing why he is doing it, you can't avoid grimacing. He looks more beast than a man, snarling over you, ripping your clothes. It's a sight that would scare any woman, no matter how cold.

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

It's a balancing act. You will have to bring him to heel, but soothe his pride in the next act, less he turns on you. Push away a man too much, and he will think you are disrespecting him. He will call you names, thinking you are the problem. Daemon feels entitled to you. You need to show him he is not, but that you are giving yourself to him. He needs to value you. The treasure to his dragon.

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

“Daor.” You repeat, grabbing at his shirt to keep him in place. You do not want him to leave.

Daemon wretches free from your grip on his arm. He mutters something, angered.

“Daor.” You use his trick against him, stepping right into his path and forcing him to back off. You use your body to make him advance backwards, toward the bed.

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

“Bodmagho?” You ask him, as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in a sheer shift. Daemon's eyes darken. His expression changes into an amused smile, and he gestures for you to come to him.

You do. You step closer and get on his lap. His hands envelop your waist, warm and calloused.

Then, the unexpected. Daemon grabs your hair and pulls, forcing your head back. You moan, pain and arousal mixing into an unknown emotion that makes the place between your legs slick.

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

His hands go to greedily knead at your thighs, slipping under your shift. His palms feel rough against your skin, impatient. The shift rides up, up, up. You mewl against his mouth, desperately reaching for something unknown to you but that you know Daemon will help you reach.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

You kiss him, softly. “Vūjigon”

He pets your hair.

“Vūjigon.” And he points to his collarbones. You frown in confusion, thinking perhaps the word doesn't mean what you think it does. He sighs and leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the space between your collarbones.

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

You don't know how to tell him what you want, so you grab his hand and make him pinch the tender bud again. Daemon smiles. He kisses you, muttering something fervently on your lips.

He lays you down on the bed, despite your attempts to sit up. Daemon pins you down with a growl, hand on your chest.

You can't help it. No matter the warning, you squirm as if you were in pain. It certainly feels like it. There is some sort of hunger in your belly, making you want to rub your core against him. You can feel your shift starting to become wet right above your tailbone. Daemon has you so bothered you are dripping into the shift and the bed.

Daemon gives you another growl and leans down to bite your breast over the fabric of your shift. It's meant to be punishment, but you arch into it, gasping.

He laughs. He takes as much of it as it can fit in his mouth, sucking greedily. The noises are obscene. The sight must be, too. Your mouth, open, moaning yourself into a frenzy. Daemon, nipping, biting, sucking, like a man starved. Your shift with two giant wet spots, one at the chest and the other by your arse.

You moan, surprised at the feeling. You had never thought bodies could be used in such a way before. Nor had you hoped for him to please you so eagerly.

His lips close around your bud. His tongue twirls around it, lavishing it with attention. You grab at his hair, his nape, desperately trying to hold onto something. Daemon just sucks harder on your breast. You moan, and moan, and moan some more. Desperate little sounds, gathering in the air around a desperate girl.

He switches to your other breast. Your shift feels sticky on your skin, so you start trying to take it off. The task distracts you enough for his hand to find its way to your core, and you squeak at the first sensation of his fingers against it.

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

Another finger joins the first. You cry out. It stings a bit. Daemon shushes you, kissing your cheek. He rubs at something above your opening that makes you squirm in delight.

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

You nod with a pout.

He starts prying you open slowly, this time. Despite enjoying causing pain, it appears your cooperation has granted you privileges with Daemon. He understood the distress on your face, and read you correctly enough to know it was not going to go well if he kept going as he was.

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

You nod again. Daemon moves back, settling himself by your side. He takes your shift away, pressing soft little kisses to each new inch of skin revealed.

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

“Daemon.” You whisper, softly. There is a part of you that is already cringing at the promise of pain the loss of your maidenhead will bring.

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

“Bodmagho.” You grasp at his shoulders, steadying yourself. Daemon lines the two of you. You feel his member at your entrance, holding you open and threatening to spear you apart. It feels scorching against your skin.

He helps you impale yourself on his member. It's not pleasant at first. Property dictates that you should not let him see your discomfort. You should just bear it like a good wife and allow him to chase his pleasure unbothered.

But you know Daemon enjoys causing pain. He thrives on it. So you let your eyes fill with tears, and your face goes slack and overwhelmed.

He smiles. He licks your tears away, and mumbles something. You squeal, and it only excites him more.

“Bodamagho.” Daemon pinches the flesh on your hip, clearly calling you to focus. His hands move your pelvis back and forth, back and forth, until you are hissing in pleasure, your hands on his chest, doing the movement yourself.

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

You are desperate for closeness. You scrunch up your face and wrap your legs around his back. Daemon looks down at you, and bites your shoulder. He is not pleased with your perceived attempt to take control.

Realizing your mistake, you shake your head.

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

His hands, now freed from yours, are everywhere. Twisting your buds, rubbing at your pearl, squeezing your waist. Daemon whispers nonsense in your ears, takes the lobe between his teeth. He aids you, tilting your hips with his hands, reaching deeper.

You heard a story once, about Westeros. A white hart was said to come to the greatest Kings alive. A magnificent beast, tall as a man, with skin made of the purest snow and antlers as long and imposing as the branches of an ancient tree. If a King encountered it, it was a good omen for his rule. It would be just and prosperous, blessed by the Gods.

What did they do with the hart? Keep it in Kingswood, perhaps? You had made the mistake of asking, once. You had been told that they used the best spear they had. That men held the hart down, and they gutted it from head to belly.

The perfect, regal beast, fur as pale as snow. The pristine white sheets under you. Blood tainting the white. What a way to go.

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

You did not care if you burned, moth to a flame, maiden to a dragon. Daemon seemed to realize it because his hand went to rub at your pearl, and he leaned in.

“….” He was talking, but it was in that strange language of his, and your ears were ringing, you felt about to explode. Your body responded to his tone, though. Gentle, loving, coaxing you over the edge with a scream so fierce you might as well have been one of those weeping women that appeared far north.

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

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kasagia · 6 months ago

Text

Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes.

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

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potatosaresweet · 1 month ago

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uchinagai · 13 days ago

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Your endless love - ningning

➢Synopsis: once, teenage sweethearts, y/n and ningning, now meet each other as full-grown adults, expect, one life had to take a different, much harder patch. will they reunite? Or did ningning only return for a different reason?

➢Pairing : CEO!ningning x artist!y/n

➢Genre: angst, fluff but maybe only past... slightly suggestive almost there but a man has to interrupt, I really wanna point out it's angst! but gets better ...?? maybe

➢warnings: heavy topics, such as - suicide, death, arranged marriage or self-hatred, miscommunications, blackmailing, suggestive/smut, mention of a corpse but not g0re, mention of murder/possible murderer, 18+.

➢wk: 5.1k+

➢note: well... kind of inspired by my childhood Turkish drama I forgot the name of but till this day remember the heartbreak my 10-year-old ass went thru. I think that's all I have to say, hope you guys will enjoy it. :3 I'm not the best writer, I do this only for MY pure entertainment. not proofread. will there be pt.2? maybeee...

You lost five years of your life to keep your younger brother free, to save him from going to jail after he accidentally took the life of a woman. Given the choice between covering up his crime and your own freedom, you chose him. You loved your brother dearly, but the cost was far greater than you ever imagined.

They married you off to a man you could hardly stand—a man who seemed obsessed with you, and not in a way that felt like love. Yet, he called himself your husband and flaunted you like a prize that made you disgusted each day that passed. Five years had passed with the weight of that ring around your finger that was more of a rope, tightening taking away air from you.

But now, staring at your brother's pale body lying on the hospital bed, you felt a hollowness eating at your insides. Is this what you meant to waste your five years to?

Your fingers trembled as they traced over the red scar on his neck, feeling your own throat tighten as though a rope was there, suffocating you, too.

He looked ghostly, eyes closed, lips an unnatural shade of blue. You gripped his limp hand, sobbing and begging him to get up. It was all for nothing; your life was ripped apart, sacrificed to save him, only for him to take his own life out of guilt. In his last words, he admitted as much. A note lay beside him, neat and careful, explaining everything. He couldn’t bear the weight of watching you wither under the demands of a loveless marriage, sacrificed to protect him. He couldn’t stand hearing you cry through closed doors as he walked by with food for you, feeling helpless to fix what he had caused. And he couldn’t stand to see your parents throw you away, to a man who saw you only as something to possess. And it mostly saddened him knowing you were only capable of loving a person you met on a bus.

You were just 19, running to a bus you were going to miss at any second. The door closed right into your face as you banged on the door, begging the driver to open it. He did, thankfully. You thanked him as you tried to catch your breath.

‘That was a hard run’ you thought.

You looked around for a seat, but there was none.

‘Great. Just my luck.’

You tried to take a breath as you clutched onto the pole next to you. You set your canvas to a safe place and look around the bus, trying to spot the next muse of your art.

There you lock eyes with a girl. A beautiful one, looking right at you, with slight interest written on her face.

‘Woah she’s pretty’ you thought.

The girl stared back at you, not breaking eye contact. Her blonde hair fell in sleek, straight as it could be, as sunlight hit her eyes from the window. The light color framed her features in a way that made her look effortlessly striking. Her eyes held an intense, yet steady gaze, focused onto you, like you’re the only one in this crowded bus.

Your eyes roamed around, taking in her appearance.

Her lips painted a rich, dark red, stood out beautifully against her fair skin. God, she was pale—not sickly pale, but pale to the point that it was beautiful and reflected light off of her body.

She wore a simple outfit, a denim cropped jacket, with a black tube top perfectly sitting around her body. Her jeans matched her denim jacket.

As you stared, you felt an unfamiliar turn to the left as you broke eye contact that felt like it lasted ages. You looked out the window and realized that the bus you got on was not the one you thought it was, so here you were—going off in the wrong direction.

All you could do was panic and turn to the driver, asking when the nearest stop was. He reassured you it was soon, but you were already late.

It did not take a while to get to the stop, as you rushed off the bus.

But fuck! The canvas!

You turn, seeing the bus already off.

‘What a horrible day to be alive’

You mentally cursed at yourself as you were about to break down till an unfamiliar voice, filled with a sweet tone to it, broke you out of your thoughts.

You open your eyes that you closed due to stress hitting your nerves to be met with the same beautiful face, looking at you with a smile.

“I think you forgot this,” says the stranger as she reaches out your canvas.

‘What a great day to be alive’ you changed your thoughts in a second.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much!!” you say as you grab it and hug the canvas.

The girl giggles at the sight as you sigh.

“I can’t explain how grateful I am”

“It's not a problem, really”

“It should be! You had to get off of your ride to bring this for me”

“Oh yeah…” she says as you both chuckle at her lack of thinking.

“Well, I wasn’t rushing anywhere, seems like you are tho, need help?”

‘Is she an angel sent from the heavens for me?’ you thought as you nodded at her request.

“I was trying to get to my house… but seems like I got on the wrong bus,” you say defeated.

“Where were you headed off to?”

“Cheong-dong..”

It felt like you were rubbing into her that you were from a wealthy family.

The blonde looked at you, slightly taken back but she covered it with a smile.

“And you were trying to take a bus… there?”

You nod.

“Well, I forgot my car keys…”

“Let’s get you there then”

She says as she grabs your wrist without thinking, dragging you along with her back where the bus made a turn.

“So what were you doing out here?”

“I was in my studio... Painting”

“Figured,” she says as she chuckles.

“Oh right, what’s your name… at least got to know what’s the name of a beauty that is about to kidnap me” you say as you both burst into laughing.

“Ningning, it's Ningning, and I'm not gonna kidnap you,” she says as she reassures you. “Yours?”

“y/n”

“Pretty name, just like your face.”

And that is pretty much how it all started. Was it too cheesy to say you both fell in love at first sight? Maybe. But god she had you whipped.

Every little thing she did made you feel butterflies all over. The way she looked at you, waited for you in front of your studio and surprised you with a bunch of balloons attached to your car. How she played music that she loved while doing her homework in your presence. It was a matter of time and you two were official.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her. The way her blonde hair fell to her face, the way her nose would scrunch up when she couldn't get the answer right. It made you all fall for her, and she was just as much in love with you.

You would always sketch her at different times while working or writing music. She was beautiful every single time. You mostly loved sketching her while sleeping, that’s when she looked most relaxed and calm, without a care in the world. You were always at her place because you didn’t know how your parents would react to… someone from the lower class.

But it did not matter.

You were in love.

You decided it was a good idea to tell your mom about it since she was always supportive of your decisions in life - painting? She got you a whole studio and the best paints in the world. Music? She installed speakers in the studio to enjoy it. So you told her, and at first, she easily accepted you and supported you.

Till she wasn’t.

You remember it like yesterday, calming your little brother from what he had just done. You couldn't believe it either? Your brother, hurting someone? But before you could even process that, you were pulled by your parents into a security room.

There he was, again. With that smug of his that made you feel uneasy with everything.

He pressed space. And there was your brother, with a gun, laughing and giggling, pointed at the girl. He thought the gun girl brought along for ‘roleplay’ was just a toy till he fired.

He pauses the footage.

“I delete this footage and do not turn it to the police… on one condition”

“Whatever you want!” your mom pleaded.

Then he looked at you and it all clicked. He wanted you. Then you looked at your parents.

Your mom was looking at you full of hope but your dad… He seemed just as against the idea as you were.

“We will have to talk this out first,” Your dad says as your mom looks at him unpleased with his decision.

But there was no point.

Your life was already decided

Now here you stand, watching as they lower the casket as you can only think about Ningning.

Your ‘husband’s’ hand was holding u firm against him. Like he was holding u for support but it suffocated you even more.

You couldn’t even cry, you felt numb. All of those years for what? For him to kill himself because he felt guilty? Bullshit.

As the time passed after the death, you felt yourself grow angrier than sad and the only person to be able to shut it down was Ningning. You kept looking back to old pictures, missing her, her touch, scent, everything.

At some point, you would stalk her socials, and try to keep up with her till she completely vanished from all social media. Her account was up but her last post was when she left back for her home country - china, and that was years ago.

Was she still in China? Did she come back? Does she still live in the same house?

It was another day, staking her dead account which was too much for you because most of the pictures that were posted, were taken by you, so you just went on a night walk by Han River, after another argument with Kai He always found a way to drain you, was it either verbally, physically, or mentally.’

You put on your earphones as you enjoyed the specific scent the water had. It was pretty chilly, so you dressed up warmly, a puffer jacket with a black scarf around your neck, wore simple black baggy jeans, and went on the walk. It calmed you down for sure and music playing in your ears that distracted you from unwanted thoughts.

But you stop in your tracks.

As the music was about to switch and earphones went silent for a few seconds, you heard it.

Honey-dripped voice giggling. All too familiar.

You couldn’t have mistaken that. It was basically recorded in your brain.

You shut your music off in an instant as you start looking around, searching for the familiar blonde hair… but it is nowhere to be seen.

Were you just imagining it?

But there was no way… right?

And then you heard it again, you were not going crazy.

You tried to follow the sound only to be met by a black-haired haired turned away from you. What was going on?

Till you saw it.

That beautiful side profile of hers, her nose scrunched up in laughing.

She went black… you thought as you just stood there, looking but not moving an inch. She was with a bunch of three other girls that you paid no mind to. It was just her, standing in front of you to reach but being so unreachable. Everyone was out of the picture like the world had stopped where it was her voice filling it up.

God knows how long you stayed there, watching, but it definitely caught the other three's attention as they nudged the black haired whispering something to her as she turned her head right at you.

It was like a spark went through you as her smiley gaze landed on you, but it quickly died down as her face dropped.

‘She hates me’ you thought due to her facial expression dropping as you felt tears forming. You wanted to run, hide, and never show yourself but it was like you were stuck in a quicksand, unable to move from your spot.

She stared back right at you till she turned her head towards her friends. Saying something that made them all look at you and then back to her.

You wanted to reach out, call her, touch her, explain yourself, but the lump stuck in your throat made it all impossible.

“Ningning!!” you choked out as she was about to start walking away, making her pause in her tracks making her turn to you, standing what felt like kilometers away. You were at a loss for words… she changed, in a good way, but everything about her was different. The way dressed, the way she did her makeup… the way she looked at you.

The last one hurt the most. Her expression was almost unreadable but it was full of hurt and hatred, and you understood her more than anything. You had no idea what to say to her. You haven’t even planned out how to talk to her, thinking she was still in China.

“Can we talk?” you say after a decade

“What is there to talk about?” she says, almost mocking you. Her honey voice was completely replaced with venom. It hurt but you couldn’t blame the girl either.

But she moved against her words because the next thing you knew, she was walking towards you.

‘What the hell is going on right now?’

“What are you gonna say? I’m sorry I ghosted you? Or are you gonna tell me you’re married, because I already know that, everyone in South Korea knew about y/n l/ns marriage BUT me.”

God, it hurts so bad, you couldn’t respond to her. You just stood there while Ningning looked at you like she hated your guts. It made you feel like you were trapped, with the door right in front of you, but it was locked away.

“Answer me y/n!” She yells, demanding an answer from you, knowing you physically couldn’t utter a word. You choke on your sob as you start crying. All you could do was cry.

As she stood there her scent was right in front of you, all you wanted was to grab her into a hug bury your head into her, and never let her go.

For Ningning it almost felt like an instinct to reach out and cup your face, wipe your tears away, and tell you everything was fine when it wasn’t fine, but she would do anything to stop you from crying in front of her. It ate her from inside as she saw your hand reach up to your face, covering your tears away.

The ring.

It should’ve been her who you were married to, not some guy Kai that she knew very well was from a very well-off family.

“I never meant it to get this bad,” you say between sobs as you fall to your knees in the middle of the bridge.

Ningning instantly went down with you as she held your head.

“What do you mean y/n, for god's sake speak to me at least once. Tell me you don’t actually love me so I can let you go”

That was your biggest fear as you looked up at her and clutched onto her wrist “No! No, that's not true!” You yell, desperate for her as she looks at you. Her eyes slowly welled up with tears as she bit her lower lip.

“You’re making everything harder than it should be y/n…”

“I had to Ningning, I couldn’t pick…-” you say as the lump in your throat chokes you from saying anything else.

“What you couldn’t pick”

“My own future…”

Ningnings heart hurt. She didn’t know what you meant at all but one thing was clear to her - everything was against your own wishes. That was enough for her to grab you into a long overdue hug as she held you tight against her.

You melt into her arms as you wrap your arms around her neck, clutching onto her shirt as you sobbed into her. You two stayed this way for a long time till you finally calmed down and steadily started breathing, enjoying her arms around you.

It made you feel complete.

Like you were missing a part of you, and now that it’s back, you would give anything to keep it with you.

She took you to her new place—one that, to your surprise, was just a street away from your own house so near that you almost thought she got it on purpose to stalk you. You could step into the driveway and you were able to see your own house clearly.

‘Seems like she built herself up’ you thought as you stood out in the driveway, staring at your prison perfectly on display while having a blanket wrapped around you.

The younger girl stepped out with two cups of hot chocolate. As she reached one to you.

You guys left her friends behind as she drove you to hers, even though she knew where you lived. She wanted you to be with her only.

Only then you were gonna be able to tell her everything.

You grabbed the cup and held it with you.

“If you’re wondering, yes. I did buy the house to be close to you.”

You felt it coming. You knew it was her dream to live at least close to you, if not with you.

“It’s pretty”

“Yeah, it is.” She says as she slowly turns her head to you. “Care to tell me, properly?..”

“My brother is dead.” You said as you looked back at her. “He’s gone while I suffered for five years because of him.”

‘Suffered’ made Ningnings's ears perk up and feel uneasy.

“You know my… husband, kai. He threatened me that he would leak footage of my brother accidentally killing a woman. To stop him from doing so, I married him.”

“Y/n I’m so—“

“You didn’t know, nobody does, so don’t stress yourself” You smile at her as she sends you a weak smile back at you.

You take a sip from your drink as you turn your head back, now seeing movement in front of your house. It was Kai, slamming his car door and screaming at the staff.

“I couldn’t make sense why you would marry him when I saw him act like a spoiled male brat, but now it all makes sense,” she says as she giggles at his outburst as you crack a smile.

“He’s a boy, seriously. He might be leading his daddy’s company but it will go downhill with his outbursts in around 1-2 years.”

“Then another rival company down,” Ningning says as she turns back to her house and you instantly follow her in.

“CEO Ningning?” You question with a teasing smile as you lean against the kitchen island, next to her.

“Why? Does it turn you on?” She says as she leans on the counter, playing into your game.

“Maybe… you always looked… good working,” you say as you lean towards her now.

It was like something flipped in her as she grabbed your waist and trapped you between her and the counter.

“You’re playing with me, aren’t you”

You looked at her, like a prey trapped with a predator. God, you missed her, the way she touched you, or looked at you. You couldn’t even answer her as you wrapped your arms around her smashing your lips on her, which she responded to immediately.

Her hands went down to your waist, placing herself between your legs as your hands went to her hair, thuggin' at it which caused her to whine into your mouth.

You break the kiss as you look at her with hooded eyes, telling her everything just by looking at her. In an instant you switched positions as now, you were trapping her.

“Let me make up for all the times we missed..” you mumble against her lips as you lay wet kisses from her jaw down to her neck.

The girl was sensitive and you were kissing all of her right spots so all she could do was whine and clutch onto the counter behind her.

Ningning was very impatient with you because it seemed like you were taking an awfully long time with her, so what could a girl do?

She positioned herself on your thigh before so now all she could do was grind against it, searching for some friction, but to no avail. You held her hips down, not letting her chase her desired feeling.

“Getting slightly impatient now are we?” You tease her as she looks at you with her.

At that, you both froze at an incoming doorbell, from the entrance of the driveway, which was guarded with a getaway. It causes both of you to groan as she looks at the security camera installed:

It was your husband, looking as if he's composed and calm but you can read him like an open book: a hint of anger in his left eye, a slight dent in his cheek on his right, which means he is biting on that side, clenched jaw and car in the background messily parked by him. He was mad, for whatever reason.

But how did he know you were even here? And what was he even doing here, in front of Ningning's house?

What confused you even more was, why was Ningning seemingly all okay with it?!. It was like she was expecting him so she opened the gate for him as he walked up the driveway, taken aback by seeing you from the ceiling-tall window.

“Mr. Kai,” she says as she greets him offering her hand to shake, but there is no point in it, he is staring dead at you, not even glancing at Ningning waiting for a handshake. She takes her hand back and chuckles seeing the staring battle between the two. You were staring at him, without any emotion showing, scared that he might suspect something between the two of you.

“We are childhood friends, Mr. Kai, no hard feelings”

“Oh are you guys now?” he says as he turns his head, eyes still on you, but then he looks at Ningning and sends her the psychotic smile that made your skin crawl every time you saw it. You knew he was mad and in an attempt to calm him down, you took a step towards him grabbed his upper arm, and looked at him. The touch was gentle, and that did not go unnoticed by Ningning. Now she was the one clenching her jaw as she looked away.

“Kai don’t cause a scene, she's my friend, we were catching up,” you whisper as he looks down at you. He glares at you but looks up masking it perfectly.

“And here I was, wondering where my wife went,” he says and giggles which Ningning can only manage to send him a fake smile.

‘My wife’ coming from his mouth made Ningning livid. She should be the one saying it. She should be the one you wake up next to but here she was, in front of him.

“We have to go back,” you say as you turn to Ningning “ We are having lunch, right?” you say to him as he nods and grabs your wrist.

“We will talk another time, Ning Yi Zhuo” It was probably your first time hearing her actual name from someone other than her or her parents. But the question was… why would Kai and Ningning even speak about and how did they know each other?

It didn’t take two weeks for you to figure out why would they speak - they’re basically rivals in their job.

Both your husband and Ningning were law firm CEOs and the rivalry between the companies was pretty much known to mankind. So here they were, standing, a drink between their finger at a dinner party, hosted by someone you did not care slightly about.

But what you DID care about, was that the invited person had a chance to bring a plus one. You, as Kai’s wife, were his plus one. But who was Ningning’s plus one? She would never go alone to these kinds of parties, so you hawked around the big room full of people, trying to spot someone you had no idea about.

Till your eyes landed on a familiar one from the day on the bridge with Ningning. The girl had pink hair - very unusual for this kind of dinner, so she stuck out like a sore thumb. You trailed her movements before she approached Ningning, making you clench your jaw.

The way she leaned in, whispered into her ear, backed away, looked at ningning, everything, made your blood boil, why the hell were they so close? But then again, you shouldn’t be the jealous one, you were the reason for the breakup, after all.

You looked away, not wanting to anger yourself with the scenery unfolding right in front of you, that you had no control of. It made you feel uneasy and uncomfortable.

And to top it all, Kai walked over. ‘Great’ you thought, as you mentally got ready to brush off his arm around your shoulder, a move you mastered he loved. But before you could do that, he leaned down to your ear, whispering:

‘Ning yi zhuo is approaching, act like a loving wife, for once, goddamit’

All this caught you off guard, and you looked straight ahead, seeing he wasn’t lying. Ningning was slowly making her way over you two, arms hooked with a pink-haired stranger, as you decided to use this moment.

Be lovely-dovey with your ‘perfect husband’.

So you put your arm up to your shoulder, Kai expecting you to brush him off, even after he asked but instead, you held his hand, as you looked up to him with a reassuring smile, that completely caught him off guard and softened up with his touch around you.

As that happened right in front of Ningning, she wanted to break a glass on his head that he was holding. But what confused her more was, why were you smiling back at him? Didn’t you hate him? Did you just lie to her?

She approaches you two as she reaches out her hand to shake Kai as she looks at him, trying to maintain her composure, that you saw right thru of. ‘It was working as you turned your head towards the couple in front of you two. You send them a small smile as a greeting and watch the two of them shake hands.

“Mr. Kai, so nice to see you,” she says with a smile, you noticed how the left side of her cheek slightly shivered which was obvious she was not having any of the things that were unfolding in front of her.

“Same goes for you, Yizhuo,” he says as he smiles, which you knew was genuine, probably due to you letting him hold your hand. He shifts his gaze onto the pink-haired girl. “Who is this girl? First time seeing someone with hair like… that. Here” he paused, wanting to point out it was not normal to have hair color as bright to a place as honorable and noble as this dinner.

“This is Aeri, my friend,” She says, annoyance visible in her tone. “I think we should go somewhere private, No?” she suggests as you notice the change of posture and stiffness of your husband around you.

Was he always like this?

You didn’t know, you never let him close enough to feel his emotions thru touch.

He slid off hand from your shoulder as he grabbed both of them and turned you towards him, gently as he layed kiss on your forehead, whispering ‘don’t go too far’ as you nodded and smiled up to him.

What were you even doing?

You watched to walk away, as you let out a breath you did not know were holding in as you turned to the aeri girl, sending her a smile as you excuse yourself but you stop when you hear someone call out your name.

You turned realizing it’s Aeri.

“y/n!”

“Yes?” you say as you smile at her, to be polite.

“Be careful.”

“What?”

“I said, be careful”

“Okay? Thank you?” you say confused as you turn on your heel and walk away, replying her words over and over. You walked mindlessly as you arrived to womens restroom and by the corner you hear muffled sounds, what seemed like two persons talking, but they sounded angry at one another. You didn’t wanna be involved but it was right near the bathroom so you walked over, clearly hearing the conversation.

The low whisper-yelling made it obvious to you, who was one of them.

Ningning.

But who was she arguing with???

“Yizhuo stay out of my fucking business!” another whisper yell, but louder.

Kai.

What the hell is going on?

“Your little precious ‘wife’ needs to know the asshole and murder you are, kai.”

Murderer.

It rang in your head, the same feeling of air slowly being taken from you came back, just like when you heard about your brothers passing, but before you process all of that you hear him bite back.

“And you need to stop messing with her head. You only came back to get revenge on me, leave her alone, we both know you don’t care about her, Yizhuo!”

Things just kept getting worse.

She only came back for… revenge? That’s what you only were to her?? A plaything for her to get revenge on your, alleged murderer husband??

What was going on, you had no idea but need to get away was huge so you ran.

You ran out, crying, causing everyone to look at your running figure, confused and taken aback.

You ran till you own legs couldn’t support you.

You fell on the street sidewalk, staring at your own hands, hands that held his in your own.

hands that touched Ningning.

‘She was just using me’ is all you could think and repeat over and over.

Till your own mind shuts off on you.

finished.

god, this has been in my drafts for a while, heh..

#aespa #ningning x fem reader #ningning x reader #kpop gg #kpop wlw smau #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #wlw #kpop fluff #kpop angst #ningning angst #ningning #aespa smau #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x you #ningning x you #ning yizhuo

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urlonelystarrr · 1 year ago

Text

ultraviolence | part two

rk800 'connor' x reader x rk900 'nines'

GENRE → angst, romance & smut

SYNOPSIS → your feelings for connor grew as the android revolution went on, though a new partner makes you question your feelings.

TAGS/WARNINGS → 18+ descriptions of corpses, blood, violence, homicide, child abuse/neglect, creampie, dirty talking, overstimulation, choking, oral(male & female giving/receiving)

CHAPTERS → PART ONE / PART TWO

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after working in the DPD for so long, you never could get used to the sound of your alarm blaring at 5:00 am. by the time you arrived at your desk, your limbs were already aching for the warmth and comfort of your bed - the type of tiredness that could only be satiated by a full night's rest (which you didn't get most nights).

to add onto the poor sleep schedule you had, the past few weeks had been filled with an unnecessary amount of paper work, and most of your time was spent sitting in front of the terminal at your desk. in order to pass the time, you'd make frequent stops to connor's desk, only to be yelled at by hank to get back to work. or you would attempt at small talk with nines, to which he always responded with narrowed eyes and a stern look. it was clear he wasn't fond of small talk so early in the morning.

this morning was no different than the last, as you sat at your desk, bored out of your mind. the day had just begun, and the steaming cup of coffee on your desk still wasn't able to replace the extra hours of sleep that you had missed. as if a silent prayer had been answered, you swiveled your chair around to see connor's lovely face, greeting you with a good morning. "good morning detective, you seem to be in a good mood today," he gave a small smile. "all thanks to you," you smile, not noticing the grey eyes across your desk watching the two of you. connor stayed silent for a moment as his LED pulsed amber, and you followed his line of vision to see nines doing the same. "i've sent the case file to rk900, i've just got a report of a double homicide and a suicide," he briefed. "what an amazing way to start my morning," you replied, sarcasm laced in your tone.

"lieutenant anderson is currently supervising an academy student, and since i'm not authorized to investigate crime scenes on my own, i will accompany you today." connor said, hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at you. nines stood from his seat, making his way over to join connor. you took a sip of your coffee before standing up to join the pair, grabbing your keys and heading to the lot.

"what do we know about the homicide?" you asked nobody in particular. unfortunately you had to sit in the backseat of your own car, as nines insisted on driving and connor took the passenger seat before you could. "a mother had murdered her own two children before taking her life. an hk200 reported that he was a witness and is currently at the station giving a written statement," connor turned around to look at you, before turning back around to face the road. "and this happened how long ago?" you asked.

"around 20 minutes ago," nines suddenly spoke, despite being quiet the entire ride. "did the android mention that she had a husband?" nines looked in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with you before replying, "no, however legal documents show that she is married." he pulled into a vacant area near the house crowded by bystanders, police and news reporters. the three of you passed the digitalized 'POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS' tapes, ignoring people's questions about what had happened. as you entered the home, the three of you split up. as stated in the report, the crime took place in three different areas; the kitchen, the bathroom upstairs, and the last in the children's shared bedroom.

you headed over to the kitchen, where the wife laid motionless at the table, a gunshot wound lodged in the back of her head. part of her brain matter was exposed, and the surrounding area had been decorated in brains and blood. it was a gruesome sight to say the least, but you suspected that it was a little odd position for a suicide. connor stood next to you, moving in front of the corpse and analyzing her body. connor's on sight forensic analysis proved to be quite effective as it saved a lot time, compared to waiting for forensic reports after you had analyzed the scene. his brow furrowed slightly, as he looked at you (not without sampling the blood of course). the weapon - a glock G19, was located next to her hand, along with a glass of wine.

"that's unusual. the exit wound isn't on the back of the head, instead it's in the front. it's a strange way to shoot yourself," connor examined, turning to you for your opinion. "i don't think this was a suicide. i think it might've been a homicide, but we can't say for sure," you replied to his analysis, before leaving to join nines upstairs. connor watched your retreating figure, before reconstructing a possible scenario.

as you walked up the creaking stairs, you took notice of the door that was slightly ajar in the distance. as you neared it, you realized it was the bathroom. you pushed the door open with a foot, immediately noticing the bloodied corpse of one of the children in the bathtub. the water had been drained, leaving the body in a pool of her own blood. the victim suffered three gunshot wounds, one in her chest, one in her right side and the last one in her forehead.

it was sickening to see, but the more you looked the more things you found. the gunshot wounds weren't the only injuries she had, as there were welts scattered across her legs, and faint burn marks on her wrist. the welts could have come from a belt. the sight immediately reminded you of the hk400, the first case you ever worked on involving an android. a bubble of disgust and guilt boiled in the deep pits of your stomach, but you swallowed it and stood up, only to be startled by connor's unannounced appearance. "jesus, you scared me!" you sighed. "i didn't intend to startle you, detective," connor said reassuringly, with his hand on the small of your back. you ignored the comforting feeling of his hand on your back, and moved to the final room, leaving connor to analyze the second corpse.

nines crouched next to the young boy, who didn't look older than the age of eight. he took a sample of his blood, analyzing his DNA like his predecessor. like his sister, he was shot. but forensic analysis suggested he was strangled before. judging by the purplish hue on his neck, it was evident that he'd been choked. "i reconstructed a possible scenario. it seems that the perpetrator came in through the door, and then proceeded to choke the victim before shooting him four times," nines explained, looking at you as you stared at the bloodied corpse on the floor. the carpet had been stained red, along with a stick figure drawing of the boy and his family. a few crayons surrounding the picture had suffered the same fate as the drawing - stained red and broken.

you noticed that he suffered the same marks, which were obvious indicators of abuse. nines and connor had seen it too, the bruises, the burn marks and the welts. "I think the mother might have been abusing her children. maybe she felt guilty after doing this and decided to take her life," your brows furrowed as you examined the room further, noticing the lack of clothes and toys.

"It's likely, as her fingerprints match the ones on the gun." nines said. connor chimed in, adding to nines' analysis. "however, the exit wound on her forehead indicates that she couldn't have shot herself. if she killed her two children, then who killed her?" your brows only furrowed in confusion as you tried to piece together what had happened. judging from their analysis, she couldn't have ended her life. if the hk200 was a witness, then he was lying, because the mothers death wasn't adding up. the husband was also nowhere to be seen, and the gun she used was registered in his name. there was only one way to make sense of this mess, as it had spiraled into something beyond what the files insinuated.

"hello, my name is detective l/n. what's your name, honey?" connor and nines watched in the observation room as you questioned the hk200. "my name is michael," he replied, fiddling with his hands in his lap. connor's brow arched slightly from the pet name, an unknown feeling erupting in him that could only be described as jealousy. "thank you for being cooperative, i understand you've already given a written statement but we'd like to ask you a few questions." you opened the case file, revealing the images taken of the bodies. he avoided looking at the pictures, and looked at you or around the room. the room was designed to be plain and bland, in order to keep the person under questioning focused and not distracted. this allows for them to rely on the detective for any type of distraction.

"what did you do today, michael?" you started off with easy questions to gain rapport, as answering easier questions would put him at ease and he would be more likely to give you more information. you could always scare them into a confession, but that would only escalate the situation and end in a possible destruction. "i did my usual list of chores," he replied. you nodded, "does this include cooking meals?"

"yes," he confirmed. "can you tell me what their mother does? does she help out, or does she rely on you for taking care of the children?" you noticed as he began to shift in his seat at the mention of her. "she left taking care of the children to me, and she'd spend most days drinking." you nodded, "did you have a good relationship with the children?" he took a little longer to respond, his eyes glossy with a type of pain you'd seen before. a look you wished to never see again. but then again this wasn't about you. "yeah, we did a lot together. drawing, playing games, normal things." he sounded hurt, like he was genuinely affected. you felt for him, reaching across the table to offer a comforting hand to him. he put his hand on top of yours, relaxing a little as he calmed down from your touch.

"was she married?" you had asked, despite knowing the answer. it was a simple test to see if he was lying or not. "yes. her husband would come home late and leave early in the morning, so she wouldn't spend much time with him," he explained. upon hearing this, connor did a quick search and was able to find his workplace. it was possible that the husband had left before the crime happened, and would come home to horrible news. "what time does he leave for work?" you asked, and the android replied rather quickly. "he leaves at 7:00am." by the time you arrived on scene, it had been 9:27am, and if it happened around twenty minutes before you arrived, then the husband would have been long gone, meaning the crime would take place around 9:07am.

you pushed a few images of the injuries on the children, waiting for him to look at them. "since you took care of the children, you probably have noticed these marks on them. do you know who caused them?" he visibly stiffened, eyes trained on the images of the marks and bruises. he then stared at his lap, remaining silent. but the look of guilt on his face was becoming more apparent. "i know you cared about those kids. you looked after them everyday. i can see the pain in your face." his brows started to furrow, before he slammed his fists on the table, startling you slightly. nines and connor were quickly alerted by this behavior, bodies tense and ready for anything to happen. "you don't know anything!" he yelled. "i don't, so tell me the truth," you pressed. he stayed silent again, before admitting it.

"it was the mother. she did it," he confessed. "she'd beat them almost every night. one time i tried to stop her but she said she'd return me to cyberlife if i stepped any further."

"then who killed her?" leaning into the table, you watched as he averted your gaze, "she committed suicide." it was evident he cared for those children, and seeing their abuse would become something he couldn't tolerate any longer. it started to make sense, when you placed him in the same position of the perpetrator from connor's reconstruction, it all made sense. she had downed glasses of wine after murdering her children, michael finally had enough, his heart broken over the deceased children - and so he grabbed her gun, and shot her in the back of the head before placing the gun so it looked like she committed suicide.

it seems that he started to realize that you knew what happened - what he did. "we both know that's not what happened." you stated firmly. he quickly shot up from his seat, lunging across the table to knock you to the ground. your chair tipped back, causing you to fall on your back. he was quick to get on top of you, his hands immediately wrapping themselves around your throat, and his skin peeled back to reveal the white plastic underneath. you kicked, and tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he was too strong. your throat burned as his digits dug into your tender skin, his fingers right above your pulse point. it throbbed wildy underneath his fingertips, only encouraging him to keep his silence.

connor was quickly on top of him, a hand pinning him to the table while michael's hands tried to fight the deadly grip of the rk800. nines quickly pulled you out of the room, and as much as he wanted to deal with the hk200, he knew connor could handle it.

connor didn't say a word, and it terrified the android underneath his palm. he could only stare into the hot rage above him, warnings popping up in his screen warning him of a shutdown. connor had torn out his thirium pump, the tips of his fingers holding onto the pump in his hand. hot blue blood splattered over his fingers and clothing, though that was the least of his worries.

"you're going to talk," connor suddenly said. "you have approximately 120 seconds before you shut down. i suggest that you tell me the truth, otherwise it won't be the other officers you have to worry about. it'll be me." he leaned into his ear, before putting his thirium pump back into place. his forearm pushed him down into the table, preventing him from moving. "i won't tell you." michael sneered. connor said nothing, and immediately grabbed his arm to probe his memory. michael grunted, the sensation feeling like a burn throughout his body as connor searched his memories. that was all the confirmation that he needed.

michael was escorted out, and you found yourself in the bathroom again, splashing cold water onto your face. after all that happened today, you felt like you didn't solve anything. the husband would come home to his entire family gone, and you felt like you couldn't save anyone. this feeling of shame and guilt, you felt partly responsible. it brought you back to the painful memories of the last case, but this time you had connor and nines.

"you should go to a hospital," nines suggested. both of the androids had scanned you again and again, all to make sure that you were alright. "i'm okay nines," you reassured your partner. "nines?" connor joined in, his head turned to look at his replica. "yes, that is the name that was given to me from the detective." nines replied, his eyes locked onto his predecessor. connor ignored nines, and asked if you were really alright. his fingers itched to touch the bruises forming around your neck, but he pushed away the thought and focused on your well-being. "you both don't need to worry. i've been doing this for years," you replied cooly.

fowler had come up to the three of you, his intense gaze locked on you. "you should head home, l/n. we seriously cannot have you getting injured on the job again," he said sternly. connor was about to retaliate, but nines placed his arm in front of him to stop him. they made brief eye contact, communicating silently.

'don't make it worse for her,' nines said. connor ignored him, his eyes locked on yours as captain fowler scolded you while also making sure you're okay. you sighed once he left, running a hand through your hair. "i guess i'll be getting home then," you said to both the androids, noticing that connor looked worried. "let me drive you home, i feel partly responsible for your injury," he said, his hand on the small of your back again. you smiled, trying to mask the way your body responded to his touches. though, you had forgotten that connor wasn't the only one who could read your body, nines could too. his LED circled amber as he scanned you, taking note of how your temperature raised whenever he or connor was around. he bid you goodbye, and watched as you left with connor for the night.

the car ride wasn't awkward at all. one thing that separated connor from nines was the fact that connor spent more time around humans, and he knew how to make conversation easier. the sound of the car engine and rain pattering against the roof put you at ease. detroit could be pretty at night, especially when it was raining like this. "i saw you take care of that android, you can be scary," you laughed. he gave a small smile in response to your laughter, "i didn't mean for you to see that. i apologize if-"

"i'm only teasing you," you nudged his arm with a grin, "it was kind of hot." he cocked a brow, his social relations program helping him differentiate the two meanings of the word. "hot? i don't think cyberlife intended for it to come off that way.." you laughed, missing these conversations with the android. if only hank could supervise academy students forever, and you could have both rk units to yourself. "i'm worried for you detective, it seems that you're putting yourself at risk with these cases. you should be more careful," he looked over at you, his eyes flickering to your injury before returning back to the road. you eyed him as he drove, fighting the smile the threatened to crawl up your face at his concern for your well-being. "thank you connor, but that's kind of my job. i knew what i was getting into when i was training to become a cop. i know the risks, but for you i'll be more careful." it was strange for him, for him to smile without making the conscious effort to do so, for his body to do things that weren't premeditated and forced.

the more you looked at him from your peripheral, the more you saw the differences between him and nines. you never would compare them, but they were so different in personality that it was slightly humorous. sometimes when you looked into connors eyes, you couldn't help but feel like you'd give him everything. his eyes ere so soft, and the only thing you could compare it to were puppy dog eyes, the thought of it making you chuckle, causing the android look over at you. "what's funny, detective?" you shook your head, "oh nothing. i was just thinking about how hard it must be being the most attractive detective alive," you smiled. if he could blush, he definitely would. "it must be an everyday struggle for you then," he replied cheekily.

it wasn't long before he was inside of your house, awkwardly lingering at your front door while you took your shoes off. "you should stay the night, it's raining too hard for you to be going home so late." he nodded, analyzing your home. it was a modern space, decorated with matching furniture but lacking any personalized items like photos. "i'm going to change, i'll be back soon, you can hang out here,"you smiled before disappearing into a different room. he walked over to the kitchen, noticing a pet food bowl, and an orange cat purring as it rubbed it's body on his legs. he crouched down, petting the cat gently. the collar was a light pink, with the name reading 'peaches'.

you returned, only to find him very immersed with petting your cat. you smiled, crouching next to him to pet her. "she seems to like you," you said, fingers accidentally brushing against his as you pet her together. "she's nice, i like dogs and cats." you chuckled, smiling from his pure nature. he was so sweet. "androids don't sleep, do they?" you suddenly asked, after thinking about what he was going to do while you slept. "no, androids don't require things like sleeping or eating. however we do have a 'rest mode' where we temporarily shut down to reserve energy." his eyes were attentive to your exposed skin, as he was used to seeing you in long sleeved tops, and a skirt with stockings. but you were in the comfort of your home, wearing a tank top and shorts. he appreciated the view.

"that makes sense, I think I'd go insane and hallucinate after not sleeping for a couple of days," you replied, moving to the couch where he followed you. he looked cute sitting in your girly living room. his eyes flickered between you and your neck, your tank top revealing more of your neck and chest, which he tried to ignore. "it doesn't hurt if that's what you're worried about," you said, after noticing his LED turn amber a few times. he was analyzing you. "i apologize, i didn't mean to-" you cut him off by shaking your head, placing a hand on his thigh which was impossible to ignore. "that's okay, i know you're concerned. it's sweet connor, I'm thankful for you," you smiled. something fluttered within him, it was the feeling he got when he made amanda happy or accomplishing a mission, just without being literally forced to accept the woman. she was long gone, but that's what he could compare this feeling to. who knows, maybe he just liked being praised. "thank you for being understanding, detective." his thirium pump raced from the sudden contact, his skin warming from the heat of your palm. "please, call me by my name. even in the office. you're my friend," you rested your hand on his shoulder, the urge to just touch him everywhere overwhelming you. "okay, y/n." the sound of your name rolling off his tongue was something that you enjoyed too much.

his eyes were trained on the floor, a pang of guilt welling up inside him from today's events. "i still feel responsible for your injury." you sighed, "connor, it's okay. it's not your fault." your hand moved to his, and you held his hand gently. there it was, that feeling again. he wanted you to hold his hand forever. your thumb brushed over his knuckles, and he gently squeezed your fingers in response. you suddenly got shy, as your eyes avoided his and you slightly warmed from what you were going to ask. "connor?" you asked for his attention, and he'd give it to you, no questions asked. he titled his head slightly, finding it hard to focus when you were holding his hand. it was far more intimate than any other gestures you've given, besides hugs, he might've found a favorite. "what is it det- y/n?" he corrected. "can i hug you?" you smiled shyly at him. it was unusual for you to ask since you'd always just go ahead and hug him (not that he minded), but it seemed like in your personal space and a much more secluded area, you seemed to be more nervous when alone with him. "of course you can, you don't need to ask. is that why you were nervous?" he teased, and you smiled before leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his body. hugging him wasn't what you expected- it was nothing like hugging a mannequin, but it wasn't like hugging a human. he still had the warmth and the softness from his skin, but under that was plastic and metal that made his body feel more firm. almost like how you'd touch flexed muscles, his body was similar to that.

his arms were wrapped around your waist, a little more loosely than yours. he liked the way you smelled, your smell was comforting in a way. as an android, he could register smells, but he didn't experience them in the same way as humans. certain smells are tied to memories, like a home cooked meal reminding you of childhood. yet your scent made him feel a certain way that he couldn't describe, no matter how many times he tried to compute it. it was just a pleasurable feeling. you smelled good all the time, everytime you hugged him he'd smell bright crystal by versace. "i have a question, y/n." he suddenly spoke. you hummed into his shoulder, prompting him to continue. "what makes you so affectionate towards me?" you almost laughed at his question, but it made you stop and think for a second. he could feel your heart race, and he didn't know why, it was a simple question.

"because I like you." you pulled away, looking to see his reaction. "thank you, I like you too. it's a great pleasure to be working with you," he gave a soft smile, not quite understanding what you really meant. you laughed, and shook your head. "I meant I have feelings for you. and it's okay, I don't expect you to return them, but I just want you to know that I've liked you for a really long time now."

his brows furrowed slightly, now understanding what you meant. you were worried, did he like you too? it had been strange for him. to deny his feelings at first, to ignore the increased whir of his thirium pump when you were around, to distract himself from how good your touch made him feel. to try to talk to someone else because he felt the need to be around you all the time. lately he's been more accepting of these feelings, and some of the new urges he's discovered. he's never felt the urge to want to touch someone before, to see you do things that were completely inappropriate. at first, he felt shame for thinking about you that way. but when he came to accept that it was probably normal, it was easier to let loose. his silence made you worry, but he was happier than he's ever been in his entire life. his LED was showing that he was currently processing the information, and he tried to hide how happy he really was. "I have feelings for you too, and I don't think I would've ever admitted them because I was afraid of rejection," he admitted, a soft smile tugging at his pink lips.

him? connor? the deviant hunter was afraid of being rejected by you? it almost made you laugh, because the thought was so bizarre to you. "are you serious? you were afraid?" you teased him back, and he rolled his eyes at your comment. he looked at you, and then your lips. you did the same, hoping that the two of you were sharing the same thought. in an instant, his lips were on yours. it was a completely new sensation to him, since the only thing to touch his lips were his fingers when analyzing DNA, so the feeling of your plush lips against his own was very new. he liked it.

your hand found its way on the side of his neck, and you deepened the kiss by gently pushing him back onto the couch. his LED pulsed a steady blue, even if inside he felt like he was burning up. he'd never felt so hot before, the component that circled cool air into his system working twice as hard to keep him from overheating. your tongue ran across his bottom lip, and he couldn't deny that he really liked that. your tongue then pushed past his pearly whites, and he actually thought he might catch on fire if you keep pushing him like this. his hands ran up the small of your back, and he pulled you into his lap, making you pull away from the kiss momentarily - a string of saliva connecting your mouths. you pulled him back by his tie, your fingers looping around the fabric to loosen it. it started with his tie, then his jacket, and then your fingers were slowly unbuttoning his shirt. he tilted his head back, allowing you to kiss his neck and the middle of his throat, your tongue running down his adams apple.

he was experiencing pure bliss, the feeling of your tongue running against his skin almost burning him from the heat. your kisses started in between his collarbones, and then it led down his sculpted stomach. you were pleasantly surprised by his muscular physique that hid underneath his clothes. through the jacket, you couldn't see much, but now you were able to see how strong he actually was. cyberlife intended for him to be stronger, and in doing so they gave him a lean yet muscular physique in order to be faster and precise. you slowly shifted to your knees, kneeling in between his thighs. you pushed his legs apart, and rested your arms on his thighs, while your fingers played with his belt. his cock strained against his boxers and his jeans as he looked down at you. your palm pressed on his crotch, and he clenched his jaw from the sudden pressure. fuck, you were going to break him.

"shit," he hissed, feeling more of your hand pressing on him through his jeans. it was a first hearing him curse, and fuck did it turn you on. before you continued, you momentarily stopped to ask him if it was okay. he nodded, his breathing becoming heavier as you unbuckled his belt. you pulled his jeans down enough to where his boxers were exposed, and fuck you didn't expect him to be so...big. it was hard to hide your surprise at his size, and you finally knew why he was always in a good mood. he smirked, his head tilting while his hand ran through your hair. you pulled his cock out gently, kissing his tip before wetting the length with your tongue. you made direct eye contact with him while you ran your tongue up the length of his cock. he nearly came just from the sight.

"you're so pretty," you complimented, before taking him in your mouth. the artificial muscles in his thighs clenched from the heat and wetness from your mouth, and he didn't know if he could handle being inside you if your mouth felt this heavenly. he let out soft grunts, making you clench your thighs together. you spit on his pink tip, before swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, your hands working up his length. you took him in your mouth again, your eyes tearing up from his tip hitting your throat as he gently thrusted into your mouth. his breathing became heavier, grunting while his head tipped back. you were surprised to feel his fingers gripping your hair, before you realized that he was holding you in place. he grunted one last time, before cumming into your mouth. unlike humans, his cum didn't have a certain taste as it was artificial, yet there was still something delicious about it, and you practically licked your lips clean.

your knees ached from being on the floor, and you were surprised yet again when he kissed you again, this time more hungry. you kissed back with the same amount of hunger, your lust never ending for the android that was above you. you laid on your couch, watching as he placed his hands on either side of your head. it was his turn to be in-between your thighs, and you whimpered feeling his cock press against the outline of your shorts. "i want you just as bad as you want me," he muttered into the crook of your neck, his lips kissing at your jaw and neck. unfortunately you couldn't bruise android skin, but he could bruise yours easily. his tongue licked at your skin, and he began to suck to leave a hickey. your hands traced the muscles on his back, your palms running up and down the smooth skin. "yeah? prove it," you challenged, watching as he nearly tore your shorts off, leaving you feeling exposed.

he was a little overwhelmed by so many urges at once, the urge to break you and leave you begging for him, or to fuck you until you cry. your back arched as he started to kiss your exposed cleavage, sitting up on his knees to squeeze your boobs. he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about doing this before. you moaned, watching as he lifted up your tank top and discarded it to the side. he kissed your chest, and you arched your back enough for him to remove your bra. he looked down at you, admiring how pretty you are. "you're prettier," he replied to the comment you made earlier, leaning down to squeeze and play with your boobs. he pushed your hips down from moving up into his, his palms holding you down easily. he decided to do the same, and pressed a thumb against your clothed pussy. you whimpered as he moved his thumb in slow circles, applying the right amount of pressure for you to be arching your back.

"my mouth isn't just for sampling dna, you know," he uttered lowly, his lips pressing against your pussy. you felt so hot, your skin burned from every touch. his hands gripped at your thighs, before moving one of his hands to tear your panties off. he didn't know if he could hold himself back, but for your sake he tried. "oh fuck," you whimpered as he ran a tongue up your slit, brown eyes peering up at you for your reaction. your brows twisted in pleasure, as his tongue began to work magic on you. the tip of his tongue swirled deliciously around your clit, before his lips sealed around you. it didn't take you long until you came on his tongue, his middle and ring finger buried deep into you while his mouth lapped at your clit. your abs clenched, your back arching and your toes curling as you unleash yourself on his mouth.

the moans that spill past your mouth are filthy, filling up the room along with the smell of sex. his fingers shove themselves into your mouth, and you're forced to taste yourself while you look up at the android above you. he looked so hot, his lips were slightly parted and shiny from being in between your thighs. his hair was slightly messy from you tugging on it, which he didn't mind. how his hair looked was the last thing he was thinking about. all he was thinking about was fucking you until you couldn't take it anymore. you lovingly suck on his fingers until his fingers are stripped of your taste, your tongue grazes his knuckles as he pulls them out from your mouth.

"is this your first time?" you asked, your fingers tracing his jaw and running down his chest. "yeah," his short response made you grin, and you pushed him back into the couch, immediately crawling onto his lap. his dick rests against his stomach, and you guide it back to your slit, hovering over him slightly in order to put it in. he looks down at your hand wrapped around his dick, capturing all of this and storing it into a special area that could only be accessed by him. he was definitely going to look at this later. you slowly sink onto his cock, the both of you grunting from the pressure. he seems to be in pure bliss, his head tilting back, his pretty pink lips parted and brows furrowed. if you could take a picture, you would. you gently rock against him, moving your hips slowly in order to not overwhelm him. your hands rest against his chest, and his hands grip onto your hips as you ride him slowly. you lean down and kiss his neck, adding onto the pleasure he was feeling right now. soft gasps and groans slipped out from his mouth uncontrollably, as he started to lose himself in the feeling of you clenched around him. you started to move faster, a pace that only brought the two of you closer to your end. your pussy wrapped around him deliciously, your wetness dripping down and spilling onto his thighs. he wasn't going to let you have all of the control, though.

it might have been his first time, but he sure knew how to fuck like he'd been doing it for years. he suddenly picked you up, with his cock still inside, and pressed you up against the nearest wall. you gasped, legs and arms wrapping around him in fear of being dropped. "don't worry, I'm not gonna drop you," he murmured against your neck, his strong arms holding you up with ease as he started to pound into you. your head titled back as you pushed your hips into him, his inhuman stamina keeping you up in the air, while miraculously being able to hit the spot that made you nearly scream.

"c'mon, take it, i know you can" he encouraged, his cock hitting that spot that made your toes curl. "cum on this dick, i know you want to," he continued, his voice low and demanding as he leaned next to your ear. it was different from how he spoke at the office, with professionalism and respect. but right now, he was fucking you like he had no respect for you, like he hated you. his pace was brutal, filling your pussy up until you couldn't take it. his cock rested heavy inside you, stretching your pussy out in the best way possible. his hand held you by the throat, while his body supported the weight of yours. "oh my god, fuck," you whimpered, your pussy clenching around his cock before you came all over him. he grunted, gasping as his cum poured into you, combining into a mess on your thighs and his own. he thrusted into you a few more times, enjoying the whimpers that slipped past your lips, the way you begged him to stop, the sound of your voice telling him that it was too much. he pulled out gently, cock dragging against the warm walls of your pussy. a new feeling overcame him as he watched his artificial cum drip out your pussy. you returned to your feet, nearly dropping a whole head as he'd been holding you up at eye length. you truly didn't understand how he was able to do so much. goddamn.

"i have no idea how you're able to hold me up like that," you took a second to control your breathing. he smirked, "my stamina and strength were designed to help catch deviants, though I'd say that I prefer fucking you over the mission." you softly gasped, hitting his arm playfully. "I've never heard you curse before," you giggle, doing a little walk of shame to retrieve your clothing. he mimicked your movements, putting his boxers and pants on first, while you lazily threw on your tank top and panties. you stopped him before he could put on his dress shirt. "I don't usually curse when I'm at work, as it's not professional, but we're not at the police department, are we?" he cocked his head, watching curiously as you put on his grey jacket over his bare upper body. "no, we are not," you smile, stepping back to admire your work. "what is the point of wearing a jacket if I'm not wearing anything underneath?" he questioned, watching as you eyed his body. "it's hot," you comment, dragging a hand down his bare stomach, your fingers tracing over his abs. "i look like i work at the eden club," he replied, not very fond of this look. you giggled, pulling him into you for another kiss.

it might have been the first time in a while that you've felt like you were doing something right. whatever you felt with connor, it felt right. he felt the same as you, he felt like having you in his life was something he wouldn't be able to let go. the two of you stayed like this, not putting a label on things yet, and being content with the things way are. you were happy, and so was connor.

though you couldn't deny the slight feelings of desire that you had for his counterpart. you felt guilty for having thoughts about nines. he was your partner. you felt selfish for wanting them both, and you didn't want to have to make a choice with who you wanted to be with, because that wasn't fair. you weren't saying that nines would even have feelings for you, but the mere thought was just enough to make you consider all the possibilities. what you didn't know, was that connor was well aware of the feelings you might have for nines, as well as him. he noticed the looks you gave, the thrum of your heart if he came too close. he didn't know why, but he didn't mind. he didn't mind seeing you look at nines like that, probably because they had the same face. but also because he wanted nines to enjoy you too. he could tell that nines was having the same thoughts, and if only you knew what was going on in his head. the thought of you being used by both of them was exciting. you don't know what's in store, but you know what you're here for.

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AUTHORS NOTE: ur a real one if u get the reference at the end, but I just wanted to say I'm so grateful for all the support that you guys show me ♡ I hope i didnt miss any tags, so pls lmk if i did !! ALSOO i'm so sorry for using y/n. i hate it but i literally don't know what else to put.

#dbh nines #dbh fandom #dbh rk900 #dbh rk800 #dbh connor #dbh #detroit become human #connor x reader #connor x you #connor x y/n #nines x reader #nines rk900 #reader insert #rk900 x reader #rk900 #connor rk900 #fanfic #dbh smut #connor smut

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dhampling · 10 months ago

Text

one fem!reader, 2k

“Mummy and Daddy’s evening off though, love? Really?”

“Oh shut up, you horrid thing. I know.”

astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that's it. that's the plot.

word count: 2,028

an: fluff, fluff n more fluff. no smut this time. soon. promise. parts ONE and TWO linked respectively but can be read alone.

“She’s asleep, Astarion!”

You are wide eyed, furious; speaking in a whispered shout at your husband.

His pale hands flit across the ties of your shirt, frisking every which way they turn. You slap them off like flies on fruit.

“Even more reason to take advantage of the situation, if you ask me.” He murmurs hungrily in your ear, hands now circling down to your waist to tug on your waistband.

“It’s a fine job I didn’t ask you then!” Gritted teeth. Eyes aflame. Cornered against the dresser.

The crib beside your bed holds your infant daughter - skittish and fresh to a world wholly unknown in every sense of the word. She rests rarely and wails often for company in these early months of being alive with you both. Pallid and red-eyed yet beautiful beyond comparison and entirely yours.

Seeing you together brings him joy unparalleled.

He has, genuinely; never been prouder of anything of his doing - saving the Sword Coast is a drop in the ocean that is completely and utterly awash with love for your youngling. The mistaken mess of his own bastard elven vampiric genetics now born unto another. This time it would be right. The hunger, the rot; the abuse and neglect, they were hundreds of miles away.

He would make it right.

But it was already so. She was here, and you all cried together in that dark, sweaty birth chamber. His great guttural sob at her birth, wracked with emotion he never knew he could possibly be permitted to feel on this immortal coil. Your genuinely feral howls of pain turned weeping with pure joy.

Two full days of agony unlike any you’ve ever endured and she had arrived, breathing; wailing; skin of a changeling in birthing viscera and lungs keen to rival any bellow of the Gods.

Astarion weakly clinging to you both; tears salting your lips and wetting her tiny head for hours on end.

The great weight of another being on your shoulders. His sincere - yet cliche - fervently whispered oath to her just moments after being placed in his arms.

She is home. She is loved beyond any unit of measure. She will want for nothing, and she will never know anguish like that of her parents and their complex lives. No matter who she is or what she becomes, she has two people who are in her corner. She will be fierce if she so desires. Cunning. Witty. Roguish. Barbaric. Horrid.

It didn’t matter. It never would.

She was yours, and his; and she would always have a choice.

He had spoken with her for hours, the nurse whispered to inform you once you had awoken from the deepest slumber of your life. Even then when you looked he was hanging over her small form in her cot, running his lithe fingers over her tiny hands and feet in a repetitive soothing pattern.

When you queried the topic of conversation he simply looked at you with a grin so lovesick it would flip your stomach completely. Butterflies.

“We deserve a bit of fun though, darling. Mummy and Daddy’s evening off? No?”

Astarion pouts, wrapping his arms around you - still pinned against the dresser - and inhaling your scent deeply.

You return the gesture and cough reactively.

“You stink of Noblestalk. I know your tricks.”

You playfully shove him away and tiptoe from your room to the landing, the pale elf hot on your heels.

“I have never stunk in my life, thank you.” He sulks.

You pointedly stop to look at him, before picking up a basket of waiting laundry and descending the stairs. He follows.

“I’m trying to fuck you, dear. Don’t make it weird.” He rolls his eyes and huffs.

You hum.

“Corpses tend to smell awful.”

“Warning.”

“You started it.”

“Touché.”

A beat of silence.

“Mummy and Daddy’s evening off though, love? Really?”

“Oh shut up, you horrid thing. I know.”

“You’re getting rusty.”

He captures you in a kiss as you reach the bottom of the stairs, slow and patient. Holding your free arm to keep you close.

“Look at me. I’m the epitome of the fatherly jester!’

Waggles his free hand.

‘I have been blessed with brains and humour anew by the birth of our daughter, clearly.’

He grimaces.

‘Not necessarily superior versions of either, but I - am - changed.”

From the moment of her conception you’d felt it. An old wives’ tale. The night you’d agreed to mother a brood alongside him, you knew she was there. That she was her. That she was brewing as something brilliant deep inside you and nothing would be as it was ever again.

He’d called it ridiculous, gestured wildly and rolled his eyes to the deepest hells, but a hazardous hope never left them until you’d far missed your bleed and it was confirmed to be true.

From that moment onwards, something shifted even further in Astarion.

The domestic tether to your townhouse in the city - no longer just a convenience to remain a steady base for you both, but a fundamental part of his scene setting, to plant roots and grow together. Two centuries of rot and abuse, and his reward was finally nearing completion.

His nesting phase began far earlier than yours and with greater intensity than you could’ve matched even without the issue of your later-heaving belly. Entire pinboards tacked with decadent fabric swatches for every occasion - be it swaddling or nursery curtains. Tailor’s tape around his neck each morning and notebook in hand to note your measurements and take inventory of your wardrobe; ensuring you never looked awry or felt anything less than wholly comfortable.

Because gods forbid ill-fitted clothing stand in the way of you and your brutal vomiting spells, obviously. A pointed click of his tongue as he fixes your sleeve.

In the middle months of your gestation, the typically discerning clientele who visited you and Astarion in your tailor’s store at the dead of night were the first to become privy to the news. Rounder by the week, flushed; brimming with a deep fatigue and yet somehow absolutely aglow.

Children to be fitted for yet another presentation evening placed sleepy hands on your belly with a saccharine softness. Their parents jostle you - sometimes in congratulations, sometimes to whisper in sheer curiosity. Dhampir are a notoriously rare breed, and you’re certain there were rumours of a third party involvement in the process.

‘No, no. We just tried really, really hard.’ You’d smile, as if in a blissful stupor from just the recollection. He’d turn to you with his ridiculously brilliant hearing; needle between teeth, brow raised; lips upturned in a slight quirk. Devilishly handsome, never anything less.

You drop the laundry basket in the kitchen corner. A stuffed bear falls from it. Clive.

A pause.

“You never asked what I did with that shirt, you know.”

It takes you a moment to recall which shirt he’s referring to. He sits at the table and watches you lazily.

“Which? The one for Mr. Chugley? I didn’t think it needed much by way of adjustment, at least?”

A stale piece of burnt toast sits on the counter untouched. You bite and chew and bite and chew like a woman who has never once tasted a morsel so divine; so untainted by the evils of hot butter and a filling bronze crunch.

“Oh - Bunt? Gods, no.’

He sips his stone-cold tea. A fresh film wobbles on top.

‘Bunt Chugley.”

A snort of laughter sends it straight back through his nose and out onto the table. You begin to choke on your toast.

“Bunt Chugley.” You giggle, crumbs spilling from your mouth.

Astarion stands to wipe himself down, creasing over with an escalating laughter.

“Bunt Chugley.”

He waggles his hands, eyes heavy lidded with lack of rest.

He looks purely maniacal.

“That’s- that’s what we should-’

You stop for breath, cackling now; hands over knees for a brief moment.

‘We should call the next one Bunt Chugley.”

He launches into a wheezing fit.

“How- How would that even work, darling? Like Bunt Chugley Ancunín, or- or-”

“No! No, no. Just that. Bunt Chugley.”

You hold both hands to your eye as if framing a canvas, looking through the gap at the ludicrous proposition in front of you.

He takes a moment to still. Smiles at you dopily.

Crosses the floor and brings both hands down to your waist with a gentle grasp.

“I am so sorry, my love.” He grins and holds his forehead against yours.

You look at him, dazed.

“Hmm?’

He simply looks up.

A profoundly gut-wrenching wail becomes apparent to you from above. Your face falls.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Astarion.”

He’s up the stairs before you can comment further, swiftly darting back into your chambers and grinning with an unbridled joy - though, you note, with lack of rest that grin is beginning to look more insane by the hour.

“Sweetheart! My darling girl. Shush now. You’re sounding something absolutely wicked.”

You watch on from the doorway, arms folded; stale toast in hand and jaws meeting in a firm chew.

He’s far too good with her.

It somewhat surprised you at first just how innately fatherhood came to him, but as he picks her up and cradles her intently it’s as if there are fractures of his own childhood coming back. How he was loved, how he was held.

A piece of him, now alive and breathing again after all these years of death.

He coos at her, bouncing her small frame gently in his arms and hushing her with each wail. It takes very little for soft mewls to take their place as she reaches aimlessly in his direction.

He leans towards her grasping fingers and allows her to take one of his ringlets from the front of his head as he kisses her tummy. She’s enthralled by him; recognises him. She wants to know more of him.

As he lifts his head her grasp remains firm.

“We have some work to do on your sleight of hand, I think. Not to worry.”

Ever so gently, he unpicks her fascinated fingers and kisses them all in tow. Her face looks almost ready to crumple before he reaches for one final kiss on the very top of her head.

“There, now. All better. Back to sleep?’

A gurgle. A puzzled blink.

‘Absolutely. Mummy does look particularly radiant today, doesn’t she? I’ll be sure to send your regards.”

He catches the smile on your face. Winks your way.

“You’re getting the baby to flirt on your behalf now?” You tease.

“That’s the lady of the house to you. She was simply passing on her praises.” He whispers as he places her back into her crib and steps back fondly. Sidles over to you as you finish the last bite of toast and pulls you in for a soft kiss.

“Stop playing coy. I know you feel the same way I do.’

He whispers down at you.

‘You want another one, don’t you?’

A kiss on the very top of your head.

“You’re projecting.” You smile.

You can’t deny him for long, he knows this. You don’t particularly want to.

Since becoming a mother you’ve taken to parenthood almost as naturally as he has; and when the topic has come up since you’ve struggled to say no and mean it.

“Think, though. The sooner we try again, the sooner we can begin building our little mercenary force.” He looks at you with the face of a man who thinks he’s just had a really good idea.

“Oh! Yes! You’ve sold me!’

You pull him into a long kiss, the kind that still makes you swoon after all this time together. He tastes like cold tea and smells so clinical you can’t help but laugh heartily as you pull away.

‘That Noblestalk is getting to me. Have a bath and try again with a little less?”

He scowls before narrowing his eyes in thought.

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It just might, my darling dearest.”

You wink this time.

The bath starts running before you’ve fully made it back down the stairs.

#astarion x reader #dadstarion #i LOVE HIM #my writing #fluff #no smut #yippee #astarion ancunin #afab reader

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 4 months ago

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Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 9 ]

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I've been resurrected from the dead once again and have something to deliver? I know; I can't believe it either. Seven more chapters and this series will be complete.

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ NSFW ] + [ SMUT ] + [ GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE ] + [ DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD & GORE/CORPSE ] + [ BLOOD KIINK ] + [ CANNIBALISM ]

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“Darlin’, I’m home!..”

Alastor halted in the parlor room’s entryway, his blood ice cold, his hazel eyes slightly blown wide with shock, as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Hi, honey…” you chirped casually, sounding as cheerful as ever with blood all over you and the body responsible for it lying by the spot you knelt.

Alastor swallowed hard, blinking slowly as his mind established that what he saw was real and not some sick fantasy he’d conjured up on his way home.

You smiled wide at him, giggling nervously at his reaction and ready to explain yourself, seeing the bewildered look on his face.

“I-it’s not what it looks like-“

Alastor dropped everything he held, his coat, keys, and work case, cluttering to the ground so loudly that you went silent in fear of the noise and the implications.

You gulped quietly as he stalked over to you with a purpose in each step, quick, long strides that had your head spinning with anxiety.

Your gaze stayed glued to the ground, too afraid to look at his face. His lack of words did not help your state of mind.

Alastor felt no urge to speak. He wanted to act more than anything, to get a hold of you before any logical thought could cross his mind.

And get a hold of you he did…

“Alastor..w-wait!?..” you yelped softly as your husband towered above you, not hesitating to drag you up from the blood-stained floor with a firm hand around your forearm. You prepared to be handled by him roughly, well aware he’d never laid a hand on you before, but expecting it under such unusual circumstances…

The hit never came…

No, Alastor had just the opposite action in mind for you, eyes burning so brightly through his glasses and smile so wide you wondered if he’d even noticed the dead body next to you.

“Alas- mmph…mmm,” you lost all feeling and comprehension as his lips pressed onto yours, hungry and eager to swallow whatever you planned to say.

His tongue slid into your mouth with ease, searching for yours until it came out to play with his, and never leaving as the kiss dwindled into an intimate mess.

You tried to breathe, thrown off by Alastor’s sudden excitement but reluctant to stop him as he kissed you deeper. His hands traveled up your neck, squeezing it gently until you moaned into his mouth, easing to cup your face gently as drool seeped from the corner of your lips from the action.

You reached for his wrists to ground yourself to reality and hold yourself steady as he leaned into your more petite frame. Alastor couldn’t get enough of you. Driven a little more insane with every glimpse he had of your innocent hands covered in another’s blood and losing it entirely when you stained his skin with it.

Had you done this for him?…

Killed someone for him?…

Put your purity on the line just for his sake?…

I want her…need to have her…. she's just too…fuck…she’s perfect.

Alastor sensed his shadow leering in the low light of the dining room, drooling as desire coursed through his veins, flowing straight to his head and back down to the tip of his cock.

He growled a deep, lonely sound that had your core throbbing in seconds. It grew more intense as he backed you into the table, finally letting you get a heavy breath in while sliding an arm around your waist. “Alastor…please let me-“ you whined quietly, thrown off by the strength he had when lifting you onto the table, slotting himself right between your legs without a second thought.

Your eyes went wide, feeling the firm tent into his pants, an apparent, distinct hardness pressing against your lower half, and not even close to being a misguided illusion on your end.

Was….did this….make him….?

Your body was set on fire as the thought crossed your mind. Your face flushed a deep pink, and your eyes finally drifted to meet his.

Red…

His eyes were blood red. Not an ounce of gold in them.

Not a glimmer of humanity, either.

Alastor’s smile was even less sane and gentler than usual, but it simultaneously felt natural to you.

His expression should have made you feel afraid, unsettled, and disturbed.

It felt impossible to gauge any of those emotions, a perpetual fluttering in your stomach signaling anything but, and it elevated as he chuckled softly.

“I don’t think you understand how lovely you look to me right now, sweetheart….”

Your skin gathered chills as his normal tone dropped several octaves, returning to a drawl you’d heard many times, but it still made you utterly speechless the same way.

The need to speak distanced itself from you as Alastor cupped your face again, thumbs gliding over your blood-stained cheeks ever so gently and his lips inching back towards yours. You refused to move away from his touch, eyes glossing over with want as he handled you like a doll.

“You…killed for me,” he mumbled, amused, far from concerned, and you nodded with a whimper falling from your mouth. “I…I had to. I wanted to…please…Alastor, please don’t..”

Please don’t hate me…

The words felt strenuous, heavy on your tongue, and drowned out by the feverish kiss he used to silence you. Tears gathered in your eyes, relief filling your chest as his hand wandered over you, caressing your curves with deliberate firmness.

He was anything but angry with you, not caring about the blood on your hands, caring even less about the dead woman on the floor.

Alastor had little focus on anything that wasn’t you. His mind was a mess, and his body control was even worse. Your clothes were made a distant memory in mere moments, discarded on the table's messy surface, and only his glasses were placed there with them.

You’d barely managed to get those off him, having to forget to unbutton his dress shirt as he discreetly undid the restraints of his pants and bared his cock against your gleaming folds.

“Hmm..ahh..” you whined at the familiar feeling, eyes sliding shut as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist and wrapped a hand around your throat. The gentle nudge of his tip sliding between your slit was dizzying, quiet sounds of wetness resonating through the room from the teasing action, and body going numb as your walls clenched in anticipation.

Alastor bit his lip, leveling his patience to enjoy the sight of your bare body covered in blood, writhing helplessly to feel him inside you and still gleaning like an angel under the warm golden light.

In his eyes, you could do no wrong and be nothing but perfect, and every fiber of his being knew it.

“Look at me, ma chere,” Alastor choked you harder, watching the blush on your cheeks flare up and your eyes flutter open without hesitation. If he wasn’t already feeling proud of you, the eagerness in your gaze indeed was his last straw, and with little warning, he emphasized that by pushing his cock past your folds with a force that had your eyes rolling again.

“Ah ah, don’t look away, sweet girl. “He groaned lowly, mindful of the twins sleeping upstairs. “Open those pretty eyes for me…”

His hips snapped into yours, rough and demanding, and you shuddered from the effect it had on your womb. The hit was spot on, harsh in all the right ways, and you wanted nothing more than to fall back on the table and enjoy it to the fullest…

However, Alastor’s command was final, and you followed it with little argument. Your eyes peered into his, full of sweetness, and fixated on him.

The blood on your hands had smeared across his face, covering his jaw and neck in your red handprints and streaks of it on his chest and arms. Your stomach flipped at the sight, pleasure pooling there at the thought of him covered in blood during his hunts, “More..” you begged quietly, unsure if you were asking for more blood on him or more satisfaction.

Alastor interpreted the latter, picking up the force of his thrusts with ease and tuning out the world entirely as your creamy walls greedily entrapped his cock. You couldn’t help it; he was never really used to his size and was less experienced with him being so rough.

Your eyes struggled to stay focused, watering with more tears as he brushed up against your cunt’s sensitive areas, abusing them to the point of frazzled nerves. Sweat glistened on his skin, dripping from his temple and down the defined lines of his jaw. You had an urge to lick it off, smiling stupidly at the thought as a string of stifled moans filled your chest.

Alastor huffed at your attempt to be quiet, aware of your reasoning but selfishly wanting to hear you slowly devolve into a fucked out mess no matter the repercussions. You gasped as his hand on your throat forced air from your lungs, a remarkably swift thrust from him pulling a delighted cry from you right after.

You gave him a pleading look, embarrassed but too far gone to stop him from doing it again. Alastor wouldn’t let up, ruthlessly pounding into you even when your weight collapsed on the table. The combination of inhaling spare breaths and the constant bashing he was giving your core made it hard to see, think, and stay conscious.

He held you to his earlier demand, not letting you look away from him even when you fell to lay on the table. You clawed at his forearm, bracing yourself for your impending high and needing to touch him somewhere for a tether to reality when it did

There was that hidden fight in you he’d grown to love, a sliver of darkness you kept hidden to please others.

Alastor was fully aware you only showed that side of yourself to him, cared enough to let it show amid demented pleasure and use it as an excuse to kill for him…

To please and protect him.

“I fucking love you…” he muttered between hushed breaths in your ear, drowning in the feeling of your hands tangling through his dark curls, and you immediately responded in a gentle whisper, “I know….I love you too Al…”

He groaned, a little closer to his edge as your soft voice echoed in his head, morphing into a moan while both of his hands shifted to hold your hips up from the table.

You choked on a scream at the new angle he had you in, losing track of your surroundings as he gave three definitive thrusts before your bodies went rigid together, and a steady stream of mixed arousal leaked from between your thighs.

Alastor smiled against the skin of your shoulder, kissing it gently as an airy laugh fell from his lips, and you shivered at the sound. “So, I take it a home-cooked meal won’t be an option tonight, will it, darling?” He rasped into your ear, and you blushed heavily, remembering the body on the floor, the dinner unfinished in the kitchen, and the utter mess he’d made of you moments ago.

“No... I don’t think so…” you pouted, a little disappointed at yourself but overwhelmed all at once.

Your husband stood to his full height again, gently pulling out of you with a smirk on his lips, seeing the slick seeping from your cunt as he did, “No, worries, dear. I’m sure we can scrounge up something….edible.”

You sat up slowly, following his gaze as it landed on your victim, and your stomach dropped as you made the connection.

“Alastor, you can’t be…“

He hummed cheerfully, already fixing himself up and eyeing you curiously as he did so, “Then I’ll save it for another time, dear. There’s no rush for your first…real meal..”

You glowered at him, flustered by the thought of eating another person, “That’ll never happen, Al. Never.”

He laughed, helping you sit up before placing a chaste kiss on your head, “Ah, yes. You said the same thing about killing. Did you not?..”

Damn it….he’s right.

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Planning on going to New Orleans for my 21st birthday in a month. I am so excited because not only am I gonna be able to actually have fun and drink but I'll also get a chance to experience habit of what Alastor's life would've been like. Gathering prime writing material and partying at the same time? I can't wait..!

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette @gasiacos @marvelgirl123 @dinosaur-crime-scene @mo-0-o

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I'm fairly confident that Human Alastor was just another more sociable and charismatic version of Hannibal. Credits to the creator.❤️

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scoonsalicious · 9 months ago

Text

Your Choice

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice.

Warnings: Language, because I have a foul mouth, explicit smut (unprotected PIV, oral (m receiving), fingering), mentions of drug manufacturing/possession/use, little bit 'o' bondage, implied dubcon, implied infidelity, implied abuse of police authority (honestly, read the whole thing through before coming at me for warnings, okay? I promise it'll make sense), bad cop jokes/puns/innuendos. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Inspired by actual events! And by that, I just mean the part where someone called the cops and told them I was cooking crack in my kitchen. Literally everything else is a figment of my imagination, alas! Special thanks to bestie @jmeelee for suggesting I take that awkward encounter and turn it into something to benefit all of mankind, and for giving me a title. The Cheesecake Factory is going to start forbidding us entry with the way we talk in there.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

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You put the tea kettle on to boil before sitting down at the kitchen table to start grading your students’ papers. You’d been hoping to get through as many as possible before your husband came home from work, but with the number of corrections you were having to make on these assignments, you’d be lucky if you got a quarter of them done before then. It was disheartening. Distance learning during Covid really hadn’t done the public education system any favors and you felt like you’d been playing catch-up for years now.

When the kettle eventually boiled, you pulled yourself away from your grading to make yourself a cup of tea. You had just settled back down with your steaming mug when you heard an incessant pounding at the front door, startling you. You briefly considered not answering— you weren’t expecting anyone, and besides, who showed up unannounced at someone’s door anymore?

Serial killers, that’s who.

But the knocking continued, relentless and heavy. After a few seconds, you heard a gruff voice call “Police. Open up!”

“What the hell?” you asked yourself, putting down the tea mug and making your way through the living room to the front door.

Peering behind the curtain on the front door window, you could make out the figure of a uniformed officer standing on your front porch. He was illuminated from behind by the streetlight, leaving only his outline visible to you.

Narrowing your eyes in confusion and concern, you turned on the porch light, unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “Can I help you, officer?” you asked cautiously.

The man tipped the brim of his hat up, and you were met with a bright pair of blue eyes that glimmered with more than a hint of mischief.

“It’s actually Sergeant, ma’am,” the man said to you as he tipped his hat and offered you a wicked grin. You breathed a sigh of relief-- you knew him. Of course you did. Your small town didn’t have much in the way of local law enforcement, and James Barnes, or ‘Bucky,’ as most folks called him, was a specimen to be revered. Ridiculously handsome, tall and broad, he was built entirely of muscle as he towered over you from the doorway. He was a favorite among the local female population, often being specifically requested to provide police presence at PTO functions and Ladies’ Auxiliary events. Despite the gold ring he wore on his left hand, the women of the town were drawn to him like flies to a corpse, much to the frustration of his poor wife.

“What can I do for you, Sergeant?” you amended, with a touch of sarcasm in your voice as you offered him a smirk back, though you were still confused by his presence.

“Well, ma’am, seems like we got a call reporting suspicious activity at this address,” he drawled, leaning now on your door jam, fingers hooking in his belt loops.

“Here?” you asked, surprise coloring your tone. “Are you being serious with me right now, Bucky?”

“That’s Sergeant Barnes to you, ma’am,” he responded nonchalantly. Oh, so he was playing it like that, then? Good to know. “Got a tip that someone’s been cooking meth in your kitchen. ‘m here to check it out.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Meth?! That’s a new one!” You’d had some of your students call in pranks on you in the past, but this was an extreme.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid meth is no laughing matter,” the sergeant said in all seriousness. The look in his eyes immediately shut down any trace of humor you felt as you stared back at him. “The manufacture of illegal drugs is a very serious crime. I’d like to come inside and take a look, if you don’t mind.”

You pursed your lips. You remembered something your husband had discussed with you, and decided you weren’t going to make this easy for him. “Do you have a warrant?” you asked defiantly.

Sergeant Barnes sighed heavily and rubbed his dark stubble with the palm of his hand. “Ma’am, I’ve had a long shift. Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be. Now, either you can let me inside, or you can come down and answer questions at the station. It’s up to you.”

It wasn’t an option, not really. “Come on in, then,” you told him, moving aside so he could enter. He walked through the door, his meaty arm grazing against the side of your breast as he did so, and you involuntarily shuddered at the sensation. You knew he noticed when you caught him smirking at you again.

“Kitchen’s this way,” you murmured, somewhat breathlessly, as you led him back through the house to the room in question. He followed silently behind you, his footfalls heavy and sure.

Once in the kitchen, Sergeant Barnes began looking around. It was obvious you weren’t in the middle of a meth lab. You were a high school English teacher, for god’s sake! You weren’t quite sure what game the sergeant was playing at, but you had no doubt he’d make his intentions known in good time.

After glancing around, he eventually said “Well, I can see there’s no meth setup here. Guess it was a false alarm.” You shot him a glare as if to say no shit, but he walked to the cabinet holding your glassware and opened it. “Well, well, well… what do we have here?” He reached in and pulled out a bong and a container of marijuana. “Now, I know next state over might have given the go ahead for this stuff, but in this state, recreational use of the Devil’s Lettuce is still illegal, darlin’. Mighty bad look for a school teacher to have it on hand, don’t ya think?”

You cocked your hip and crossed your arms in front of your chest defiantly. “That’s my husband’s,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “And I’m pretty sure you just conducted an illegal search and seizure there, sarge.”

He put the bong down on the counter with a heavy clink and turned to face you, his face impassive and voice stern. “Now, seems to me someone’s got a problem with authority, darlin’. I don’t appreciate you talkin’ back to an officer of the law like that. Might need to teach you some manners.”

You swallowed thickly, finally having an idea of where the sergeant was going with his little drop-in and felt a frisson run through your body that left you trembling. Honestly, you were surprised you hadn’t seen it coming. There’d been talk, after all.

“Now,” he continued as he slowly made his way across the kitchen toward you, “as I see it, we got ourselves two options here. One: you can come down with me to the station and we can book your pretty little ass on possession charges, which is gonna take hours and require a hell of a lotta paperwork.” He was standing directly in front of you now, leaving just inches between your bodies. You sucked in a breath, the nearness of him making you dizzy. “Or two, I can get you off with a warning. Still might take hours, but at least we can both have ourselves a good time. Your choice, darlin.”

You took a step back, pressing yourself against the edge of the counter in an attempt to put some space between you. “I think you mean ‘let’ me off with a warning, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, your words coming out in an exhale.

You gasped as his hand came down to cup you between your legs and gently squeeze your mound through the fabric off your jeans. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I meant what I said, darlin’. But you gotta prove you’re gonna be a good, respectful girl, first, so why don’t you get down on your knees and show me how you obey the law?”

Your eyes widened at his command, unsure how to proceed. Unfortunately, Sergeant Barnes was impatient– he took both his hands and put them on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you down until you were kneeling in front of him, the large bulge in his trousers staring you straight in the face.

“Best get to work, darlin,” he growled, brushing your hair away from your face. “It’s not gonna suck itself.”

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening as you slowly brought your shaking hands up to his waist. With trembling fingers, you unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants. His massive erection was straining the fabric of his gray boxer-briefs, leaving a dark wet stain where the tip rested against the cloth, evidence of his arousal already making itself known.

Moving as though afraid of spooking a scared animal, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down to just above his knees and setting his cock free to bounce up against his lower stomach.

God, but he was big. If the women in town had any idea that he was packing so much more than just his gun, they’d never give him a moment of peace. You traced a finger along the vein at the base of his member, trailing it up his length to the weeping red tip. Coating yourself in his pre-cum, you used his essence as lubrication as you began working him with your hand.

“Not that this doesn’t feel good, but what did I say about sucking it, darlin’?” Sergeant Barnes asked through a grunt as you pumped him.

“I’ll get to it,” you told him, a hint of irritation in your voice. He had a lot of nerve making demands of you at a time like this.

You felt his hand come and roughly grab you by the chin, jerking your head up to make you look him in the eye. “You got the right to remain silent, Sweetheart. I’m gonna be a gentleman and suggest you use it. Find another purpose for that pretty mouth of yours.” He took his hand away with a wink.

You licked your lips as your eyes took him in. Leaning your head down into him, you flattened your tongue and ran it up the underside of his cock.

“Good girl,” he moaned as your tongue circled his tip. “Keep it up. Makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good with that sassy mouth of yours.” You took him into your mouth a little bit at a time, teasing him as one hand worked his base and the other cupped his balls.

You weren't a woman who liked to be told what to do, but the dominance in his voice made you shudder, an involuntary thrill skittering down your spine. He felt intoxicating, dangerous and you had the feeling you were in way over your head.

“Mmm,” he grunted as you swirled your tongue around the swell of his head before deciding to take him in deeper. You relaxed your throat and backed off only when you felt his length bump against it.

"Jesus, darlin', where'd you learn that?" he asked breathlessly. His hands moved to cup your face as you moved rhythmically along his length, setting your own pace. He was blissfully lost in the sensation.

But then, Sergeant Barnes wasn’t one to give up control so easily, either. “Stop teasing,” he huffed out before threading his fingers through your hair and tugging lightly, a clear sign that he wanted more.

You didn’t hesitate to oblige, taking him deep in your mouth until you heard him groan in pleasure above you. His grip on your hair tightened as he took over guiding your movement, his hips bucking up to meet your mouth until he was fucking your face with abandon. The taste of him was overpowering, salty and bitter, making your cheeks flush with heat as you struggled to accommodate his size, tears running down your cheeks and drool pooling from the corners of your mouth.

"I knew you had it in you," he grunted, his voice barely a whisper now as he lost himself in the waves of pleasure you were giving him. You looked up to see his eyes closed tight, his lips parted when ragged breaths escaped his chest that was heaving like a wild beast caught in a trap.

He was close, you could tell from the way his body squirmed and the throbbing of his hardness against your tongue. There was an urgency in his ragged breathing and the racing pulse beneath his skin that echoed through your core. But he wasn’t going to finish yet. Not if Sergeant Barnes had anything to say about it.

A sudden force yanked you back by the hair, tearing your mouth away from him. You let out a surprised yelp, wiping away the excess saliva that clung to your lips.

“Upstairs,” he ordered gruffly, his eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. He tucked himself free of your grasp and rearranged his uniform as he stepped back, giving you space to rise from your knees.

You smiled and nodded, your head hazy with desire as you passed him and led the way to the narrow back staircase tucked into the corner of the kitchen. He followed closely behind, his heavy boots echoing off the wooden floors in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in your chest. You felt his gaze on your swaying hips with each step you climbed, a soft growl echoing from behind you that sent shivers down your spine.

You led him to your bedroom, a quaint space painted in soft hues with sheer white curtains rustling gently from the light breeze of the warm spring night. The unmade bed serving as a reminder of love you and your husband had made just that morning staring you right in the face.

“‘m afraid I’m gonna have to search you now, Sweetheart. Strip,” he ordered, his voice gruff with desire as he closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother with niceties or romance – this wasn’t about that. This was about raw, primal need.

Your trembling hands reached for the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it over your head, revealing the delicate lace bralette underneath. His sharp intake of breath was music to your ears, encouraging you as you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them daintily.

“Turn around,” he said next, and you complied without question. You heard him suck in a breath behind you as you shimmied out of your underwear, revealing the round shape of your backside to him under the dim light.

“Jesus,” he whispered, the raw desire in his voice making your heart flutter. “This is better than I ever imagined.” He walked up to you, the rough fabric of his uniform trousers brushing against your exposed skin making you whimper. His fingers traced your spine, gliding all the way down to the small of your back, causing goosebumps to break out all over your body. “Now, you remember your traffic laws, don’t ya, darlin’? You remember how stoplights work?”

You nodded, knowing instinctively he was referring to safe words– Green for go, Yellow for slow down, and Red for stop.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Put your hands behind your back.”

You complied and felt the cold metal of his cuffs clink around your wrists, locking them into place. You were now fully at his mercy.

He cupped your buttocks in both hands, kneading them gently while his lips found the nape of your neck. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine as he left a trail of kisses there. “Color?” he asked inbetween presses of his lips.

“Green, Sergeant,” you hummed. You could feel him growing harder against you, the enormous length of him pressing against your ass making you squeal and squirm in anticipation. His groan echoed in your ears as he held onto you tighter.

“Gonna need ya to spread for me, Sweetheart,” he murmured into your ear, his voice low and husky. Your heart pounded in your chest as you did what he asked, positioning yourself on the edge of the bed. His hands found their way to your thighs, pushing them apart gently until you were open and exposed to him.

He let out a low whistle behind you, his fingers tracing lightly over your intimate folds. "You're soaking wet," he murmured, sounding almost awestruck. You flushed at his words, feeling a fresh wave of desire pulse through your body at his touch.

His fingers suddenly abandoned you, only to return dripping with warm slickness. He wasted no time in teasing your entrance, slipping his finger inside you and drawing out a moan that echoed through the room.

“You like that don’t ya?” he asked, his voice alluringly low as he curled his finger inside of you. You whimpered at the sensation, trying to push back against him for more.

“Patience, Sweetheart," he whispered against your earlobe before nibbling on it lightly. He slid another finger inside you, curling and stretching in a way that had you gasping for breath. "You're so tight," he groaned out, appreciating the way your walls clenched around his digits.

“Please…” you whimpered out, the anticipation making your body shake as you pleaded for more. “Please, Sergeant. I need more.” Your legs were wobbly, and with your arms trapped behind your back, you were finding it hard to keep your balance, but you wanted more of him.

He chuckled darkly at your plea, rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb while his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. Each touch was expertly measured, bringing you closer and closer to the edge before pulling back, keeping you precariously balanced between pleasure and desperation.

“I’m doing this my way,” he grunted, adding a third finger and increasing his pace. You cried out, your vision blurred as the coil inside you tightened threateningly. You were so close but he wouldn’t let you fall, each moment bringing a new wave of frustration and desire.

Finally unable to take the teasing any longer, he withdrew his fingers leaving you gasping at the sudden loss.

"Get on the bed," Sergeant Barnes ordered, standing tall in front of you; his arousal painfully obvious. “Face down.” You moved to accommodate him, getting on your knees and laying your face down on the mattress, hands still pinned behind your back.

The sound of his utility belt hitting the floor filled the room, followed by the rustle of fabric as he stripped himself free of his uniform.

You squirmed on the bed, desperate for his touch but unable to see anything with your back to him. The anticipation was unbearable, each passing second feeling like an eternity as you waited for him to resume his ministrations.

He moved behind you again, his bare, warm skin against yours making you whimper in anticipation. "Breathe," he commanded simply, and you did, inhaling a shaky breath before exhaling slowly.

And then without warning he was inside you, filling you up in one quick thrust that had you screaming out, the stinging stretch quickly morphing from painful to something far sweeter. He grunted at the intrusion, pulling back slightly only to thrust back in again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, stopping you from moving too much as he pounded into you relentlessly from behind.

Each thrust had you crying out in wanton pleasure, your body trembling beneath him. "Sergeant Barnes," you whimpered his name like a sacred prayer, the cool metal of the handcuffs biting into your wrists as you tried to brace yourself against his forceful movements.

He didn't slow down, didn't pause, just kept moving inside you with a single-minded focus that had you spiraling. His pace was unrelenting, his stamina seemingly endless. His fingers clutched at your hips in a bruising grip, holding you steady as he continued his merciless assault on your senses.

You felt him shift slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts and hitting a spot inside of you that made stars burst behind your closed eyelids. “Please…” your plea was cut off by a gasp as he hit that same spot again, driving you closer to the edge.

But he didn’t stop there; instead he leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back as one hand slid underneath your bodies, finding your clit with unerring precision. He started rubbing it in tight circles, adding a whole new layer to your pleasure.

Every new thrust of his hips sent him deeper within you, each stroke of his fingers on your clit became more intense. You were a writhing mess beneath him, completely lost in the ecstasy he was giving you.

"Bucky," you cried out, forgetting to use his title this time, your voice hoarse from screaming, your body trembling on the brink of release. This wasn’t a game anymore.

"I know," he growled in your ear, his voice low and guttural. "I can feel how close you are, doll. Just let go."

And you did. The moment his lips closed around the sensitive skin of your neck, marking you as his own, the coil inside you snapped. Pleasure washed over you in waves, each one stronger than the last, pulling cries from deep within you as your orgasm tore through you.

He didn't stop his movements, continuing to thrust into you as you came around him, your cries only fueling his own desire. His fingers tightened on your hips while the other hand continued to work you through your climax, prolonging the exquisite sensation.

His pace became erratic, the rhythm breaking down as he chased his own release. With a final grunt and a whispered curse, he drove deep inside of you, his body tense as he came, filling you with his spend. His guttural moan carried through the room as he rode out his orgasm, each thrust sending little aftershocks through your sensitive body.

His grip on your hips relaxed slowly, his breathing heavy and ragged against the skin of your back. He stayed still for a moment, buried deep inside you, allowing you both to come down from your highs.

Finally, he carefully withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty. He rolled off of you with a sigh, getting up to retrieve the handcuff key from his trouser pocket and releasing you from your bondage.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft in the silence, as he worked to rub the feeling back into your tender wrists.

You looked up at him through your lashes and nodded, amazed and impressed at his sudden shift from commanding sergeant to tender, caring lover.

“So,” Sergeant Barnes began once he had determined there was no real damage to your wrists, “what time is your husband getting home?” You both burst into laughter as he pulled you closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“Mmm, probably sooner than we expect,” you teased, leaning up to give him the deep kiss you’d been denied throughout the length of your little game. “That was a lot of fun.”

He chuckled and stood up, walking over to the dresser. “Yeah, it was; we should have done it sooner.” He opened the drawers, pulling out a fresh change of clothes for himself before moving to the closet to grab your robe. “Thank you for that; I really did have a long shift, and that certainly took the edge off. You were amazing, doll.” “My pleasure, obviously.” You’d been excited and intrigued when Bucky first brought up acting out his fantasy with you, but no amount of discussion could have prepared you for how much you had loved actually doing it. You raised your hands over your head, arching your back in a stretch, laughing as you watched his eyes follow the heave of your breasts as they moved upward, licking his lips. “But meth, Bucky? Really? That rumor gets out, you’re gonna get me fired.”

Bucky hummed as he grabbed some clean towels from the linen closet and brought them into the ensuite bathroom. You heard him start the shower. “You answered the door looking all sexy and I panicked,” he confessed, popping his head back into the bedroom, a sheepish grin across his face that made him look ever so boyish. You adored it. “Next time, I’ll say we got a call about you being a prostitute.”

You cackled at that, making him grin even wider. “Better not,” you warned as you got off the bed and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “otherwise I might make you pay for it, and I don’t think you can afford me on a sergeant’s salary.”

Bucky grabbed at his heart in mock pain. “Ouch. Well, how about we clean ourselves up and use the money I saved by not paying you to go have a nice fancy dinner, instead? How does that sound? We can talk about doing your fantasy next.”

You took his hand and led him back into the bathroom and the inviting warmth of the shower. “That sounds perfect,” you told him as you moved to stand under the showerhead. You planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky placed his hands on your waist and gave you a gentle squeeze before kissing your forehead. “I love you, too, Mrs. Barnes.”

You began to lather each other up, trying your best, yet failing miserably, to not get too frisky with one another. “Hey, Buck?” you asked after a moment, a question coming to mind that you’d been meaning to ask him.

“Yeah, doll?” He was gently scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, and it felt like heaven.

“How come you gave yourself a Southern accent?”

Bucky laughed and pulled you close, your back to his front, as he planted a kiss just behind your ear, right over the mark he had sucked into your skin. “I told you, doll. You looked so fucking sexy when you opened that door, I just panicked!”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #mcu bucky barnes #marvel mcu #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes drabble #Bucky barnes x y/n

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

Text

The Moonlight Ray (2/2)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, obsession, incest, toxic jealousy, death threats, domination ]

[ description: When his beloved Persephone returns to him after nine months of separation they reunite in joy and growing closer to each other. However, three months of their happiness pass all too quickly, and when he has to accept separation with his wife again he discovers that Adonis, the young man with whom Aphrodite herself has fallen in love, has been watching his wife in the bath. Dark, tocically possessive and obsessive Aemond. ]

At the request of my readers and as a gift to celebrate 2k of my followers I wrote the second part of The Evening Star fanfic, but it can also be read as a stand-alone story.

The Evening Star & The Moonlight Ray Persephone Moodboard

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He didn't know the feeling of longing before her, he didn't know the feeling of despair or suffering, he didn't know that it was possible to wither each day with uncertainty while clinging to hope.

He did not believe that when the nine months she was to spend with her mother had passed she would return to him, to his dark, cold caves, to be locked of her own free will in his stone prison.

Although he did not believe it, she returned to him.

She came back to him and gave herself to him, and he took her, sinking deep into her body, filling her with his seed, understanding at last why men wanted so much to be husbands to their wives and have them all to themselves.

The only feeling that was more powerful than his love for her was his jealousy, his greed, his possessiveness.

When she stayed with her mother among the fields and meadows he cared that his envoys, bats, owls and snakes made sure that no men dared to look at her, let alone approach her, speak to her, try to touch her.

Any such bolder, charmed as he was by her infinite, shining beauty and sweetness, ended his life miserably, blinded or bitten by his servants − he watched with satisfaction as the souls of naive human boys thinking they had the right to ask her for her hand floated down the wide, pale streams of the Styx.

She was his alone.

To his satisfaction, his envoys reported to him each day that she did not seek the pleasure or attention of any other men, spending her days with her nymphs on bathing and playing, helping her mother bless the crops.

He decided to reward her for her devotion, for her faithfulness, and once he held her in his grasp he did not let her go for five days and five nights, alternately caressing her with his hands, his lips and his length, discovering the secrets of her soft, warm, feminine body.

He knew that his sister, the Goddess of Love and Desire, after he had rejected her efforts, would not help him understand such a complicated matter as female fulfilment, so he decided to discover for himself the path that led to it, exploring her body with his corpse-cold lips, seeking the places of her greatest pleasure.

He found that a sweet, innocent sounds erupted from her chest as he sucked and licked her nipples, that a soft sigh left her lips as he kissed her long neck − however, it wasn't until he sank his face between her thighs, it wasn't until his tongue tasted her moisture, his lips brushed her folds, that he realised he had found his way to her ecstasy.

He ate her like a greedy madman, recognising that her juices were more delicious than ambrosia itself, smelling of her and her arousal, her desire he craved so much − his lips licked and sucked her pearl, and then his tongue slid deep between her slick folds, driving her body into convulsions, pathetic, loud mewls erupting from her throat, her trembling hands clenched on his hair.

"− please − that's enough, husband − please −" She begged after each fulfilment, which he brought her to with painfully slow, deliberate flicks of his tongue and lips, watching her with delight, taking handfuls of her sweet reactions, her vulnerability, her awareness that she was dependent only on his will.

He hummed with amusement not long after her intense rapture starting his arduous work all over again, already noticing what movements of his lips were bringing her to spasms, making her fall apart in front of him − he lifted himself slowly on his arms, her eyes dark and misty, her whole body trembling with exertion in his hands.

"− please − please −" She whispered pleadingly when he turned her onto her stomach and he knelt behind her on the bedding, lifting her buttocks higher. Her mumbling turned into loud whines as he slid his fat cock deep inside her, all hard after what he'd done to her, his hands clenched on her hips, his thrusts deep, sharp and sure.

Ever since he had discovered what delight lay inside her, what a blessing it was to fill her to the brim with his seed, he hadn't been able to hold back − her entrance was all moist and sticky from her earlier fulfilments, their bodies slapping against each other with a loud, lewd splat.

"− what was it again? − you can't take it after you left me for nine long months? −" He hissed out in fury, pumping his swollen, hard manhood into her with fast, aggressive thrusts, holding her hips in an iron grip, panting loudly along with her as he felt her core clench against him in panic, overstimulated and tired.

He pressed his lips together, biting his lower lip as he saw her open her mouth wide, her body adorned with droplets of sweat, her yellow flowers primly woven into her hair scattered around her head.

"− uncle −" She mewled pleadingly and cried out loudly, simultaneously suffering and taking pleasure from this aggressive, perverse act of two naked bodies colliding with each other, her moisture trickling down her thighs.

"− I'm here, Persephone − your husband is by your side −" He exhaled with a kind of tenderness and care, not slowing down, racing his own fulfilment approaching faster and faster with each brutal thrust into her hot, fleshy interior.

When she came she almost screamed his name, writhing beneath him, clenching her hands on their bedclothes, convulsing − he tilted his head back, groaning and panting loudly, finally achieving the fulfilment he craved, filling her with himself.

When he decided that he was satisfied for the moment his wife was trembling all over, looking up at him with her lips parted, her gaze dulled, warm, tired, fulfilled. He laid down beside her, turning his face towards her, and touched her cheek with his icy-cold palm.

"− Persephone −"

Ever since she had returned, ever since she had freely chosen to be his, he had noticed a satisfying change in her that filled him with pride and desire.

She wore his gifts, his dark robes and gowns embroidered with pearls, jewels and rays of light, a crown of golden laurel leaves on her head.

She agreed to be his Queen.

Queen of the World of the Dead.

The underworld as she passed was suddenly filled with a warm glow, his servants at his request obeying her every command, being at her every whim.

He demanded that her throne stand next to his, that she not stand beside him during the audiences, but could sit by his side, equal to him.

Her words, filled with compassion and understanding, made him show his visitors grace more frequently than usual just to please her; looking at her from the side, seeing her smile of contentment, all he could think about was how much he didn't want to give her back to her mother.

Was he not trying hard enough?

Why should she leave him?

His joy and fulfilment began to give way to frustration and uncertainty with each day bringing them closer to her leaving once more. One night, after he had come hard inside her after hours of caresses and the wonderful, tender passion of two lovers this question self-consciously ripped from his throat.

"Will you leave me again?"

She looked at him surprised, the soft smile of fulfilment changed to a concerned, confused expression − she touched his cheek as if she sensed that what she was about to tell him would enrage him.

"My beloved … after all, you know what I promised my mother." She whispered quietly. He pressed his lips together and rose in fury, putting on his black robe hastily, tying it hurriedly around his waist.

Seeing that he wanted to leave her chamber she lifted herself quickly, all bare, with only a golden wreath of leaves on her head, and she stepped in his way, placing her hands on his cold, naked chest.

"− please − please, my dearest, do not stop me again −" She mumbled pleadingly, and he clenched his jaw, looking at her with rage and hatred.

"Do not fret. I will not." He hissed, sidestepping her, opening the door with a loud thud, leaving her terrified, hearing her loud, helpless cry.

Though she tried to besmirch him with her touch and presence, he could not look at her, knowing that she would leave him again, that he would again forget what her body looked like, her scent would fly from her chambers, her throne would remain empty.

"Every wife on earth and in the heavens leaves her home to be united with her husband, yet I must share you with your cursed mother." He growled in anger, pacing around his chamber as she came to him again begging him to speak with her.

She lowered her gaze at his words, all pale, not daring to interrupt him.

"Still, if it were a fair share! Nine months with me and three with her, or even six months with me and six with her! But by what right do you spend a greater part of the year with her than with me? Why do you allow it and make me accept it?" He asked coldly, darkly, low, from deep in his throat, feeling that the water of the Styx and the screams of the dead flowed through his veins.

"The earth won't have time to yield crops. When I am gone she falls into despair, there is winter on the land, everything freezes and dies. People will starve." She whispered with difficulty, looking at him pleadingly, wanting him to understand.

"I CARE NOT! LET THEM STARVE, LET THEIR BODIES ROT, LET YOUR MOTHER AND MY SISTER CHOKE ON HER AGONY AND DESPAIR, I CURSE HER!" He thundered in a tone so cold, terrifying and cruel, the ground shook around them, dust and ashes sprinkled from the high ceilings of the caves.

His Persephone looked at him trembling all over and burst into sobs, running out of his chamber − he was panting heavily as he led her away with his eyes, and then he cursed loudly and growled like an animal, burying his face in his hands.

All he wanted was for her to stay with him.

He visited her that night, enveloped her in warm furs, slipping underneath them to lie down beside her, pressing her against his naked body. She didn't push him away − she let him lift her thigh gently and explore her warm, moist womanhood with his hand.

She let him take her, let his length fill her to the brim, let him move inside her with slow, calm thrusts of his hips. He brought her to fulfilment with the circular motions of his fingers around her bud, whispering in her ear that she was his curse, his doom, his madness and the object of his endless desire.

He filled her with his spend several times that night, taking her tenderly and slowly, once apologising and once demanding her repentance for driving him to despair − she sobbed in his arms with helplessness and pleasure, peaking again and again, confessing to him her boundless, most sincere love.

"− once a month, when the full moon lights up the night sky we will meet where you saw me for the first time − I fled then from my mother when she slept, and I will flee for you to sweeten our separation −" She whispered and he felt the heat spill over his heart.

Roused by the sudden passionate feeling he kissed her greedily and took her once more.

It was easier for him to bear the thought of separation when he knew that he would not have to wait nine months to see her again, but one.

Counting down the days, he laid in her bedding, surrounded by her scent, thinking about the warmth of her bare body, about the moans that flowed from her lips like a sweet nectar.

As promised, on the night the full moon fell, he left Hades − his body was filled with anticipation, he felt a tickle in his fingertips and a burning desire in his loins.

It had been so long since he had touched her.

He did not recognise himself or his behaviour, catching himself with rage that around her he was like his brother, emotional and pawing, endlessly thirsty.

He shuddered when he heard the rustling of the grass, his wife, his lover, his Evening Star was walking towards him between the century-old trees with a light, peaceful step, a smile full of joy and warmth beamed from her bright face.

He licked his lips as he looked at her with satisfaction, seeing that she had chosen a robe of such fine material that he could see the whole outline of her body perfectly − the fabric shone with a pearly lustre in the starlight, her hair partly braided at the back of her head, partly loose, in her locks the same blue flowers as when he saw her for the first time.

"Could it be that the Moonlight Ray has finally illuminated my endless night of longing?" She whispered softly, her swollen, moist lips parted slightly.

He felt her words in his manhood, which pulsed aggressively under the material of his black robe − he looked down at her with eye full of thirst.

He wanted to devour her.

He threw himself at her, pressing her to the ground wet with dewy grass and flowers, tearing her beautiful robe to shreds, exposing her naked body in front of him − she moaned in surprise, trying loudly to catch air in her lungs.

Her body arched backwards in a convulsion as his length slid suddenly between her thighs, pushing her throbbing, hot muscles to their limit.

She was so wet, she was clenching so hard against him that he gasped loudly, and immediately began to root into her, making them both pant with pleasure, his hands on either side of her head looking at her beautiful face.

"− take it − take what your husband is giving you −" He hissed slamming into her with quick, sharp, brutal thrusts of his hips − she whimpered beneath him, her tight, hot walls sucking him inside.

She gave herself fully to him, spreading her thighs wide before him in a gesture of submission, experiencing ferociously intense fulfilment with him.

They spent the whole night together, amidst the rustle of grass and leaves, the light of moon and stars, gazing on their faces, lying naked, hidden from the world.

This time it was she who begged him before dawn not to leave, to stay with her a while longer, but he did not listen to her pleas, wanting her to feel what he felt, to experience a substitute for his suffering, although his body screamed for him to take her once more.

Their monthly meetings sweetened the goblet of bitterness of her absence, and although he could not bear the emptiness that filled the underworld without her, he appreciated that at least in this way they could experience relief.

He thought that, like in the stories of people that were passed down from father to son, they met like forbidden lovers, taking solace in each other's arms.

When word reached him that a human youth had captured the heart of one of his sisters, Aphrodite, the same one he had refused years before, he was not particularly bothered, knowing her nature and how easily she changed the objects of her affections.

This Adonis of whom he had heard so much was supposed to be a beautiful young man with big, brown eyes, his black hair curly and shiny, his body built no worse than Hercules or Ares himself.

However, when one day his servant reported to him that Adonis had been seen in the company of his wife and her mother, that from the shrubs he had watched his Persephone bathing, he felt an anger he had never known before in his life.

His rage did not allow him to wait until the next full moon.

His envoys reported to him where Demeter and his wife were staying to rest with their nymphs and Adonis himself.

He came there at night, when everyone was asleep − his steps was followed by a translucent blue mist, enveloping the sleepers with a faint scent, leaving them incapable of being awake for as long as he wished.

He did not allow the smoke to reach his wife's nostrils; with a gesture of his hand he commanded the clouds to change direction so that they avoided her body, clad in a white, half-transparent robe.

He stood over her, looking at her thoughtfully, then lifted his gaze and noticed Adonis sleeping nearby under a tree, facing her, as if he had fallen asleep looking at her.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, recognising that he would deal with him later.

He knelt down, placing his knees on either side of her body − his hand with a light, sure movement reached into the material of her robe and untied it. She shuddered all over, awakening from a deep sleep, terrified and wanting to scream, feeling that someone had exposed her body, so he covered her mouth with his ice-cold hand.

"− shhh −" He hushed her reassuringly when she finally looked at him, her gaze turned from horror and fear to disbelief and joy − she wanted to embrace him but he wouldn't let her, grabbing her wrists.

"− husband − what are you −" She mumbled, shocked and flustered by his presence and squealed quietly as he lifted her up and turned her back to him, gripping her hip with one hand and her neck with the other. He squeezed her cheeks with his fingers and directed her face to the young boy sleeping before them.

"Handsome, isn't he? I heard he has two beautiful dark eyes. If you find them pleasing, I can gift them to you." He whispered in her ear and she trembled all over at his words, her hands tightened on his arm, her breathing quickened in terror.

"− no − I would never − ah −" She cried out quietly as she felt his fingers slide between her thighs with uncertain, soft movement checking what state she was in.

Her lips parted wide and she involuntarily reached back to grab his hair as the tip of his finger began to tease her slit with a sticky, loud click of her moisture.

"− no? − my wife is a little liar, isn't she? −" He hissed low, sliding his finger deeper into her hot core, overpowered by jealousy and rage at the very thought that she might have wanted anyone else, that her thoughts might have been occupied with another men while he thought only about her.

"− I'm not − I'm not, my beloved −" She uttered with difficulty, involuntarily rising and falling on his finger, seeking any source of friction, panting quietly, despite her terror her walls throbbed with arousal.

"− did you let him look at your naked body? − I know he tried to watch you in the bath −" He growled icily, sliding his finger out of her, untying his robe and directing her to the tip of his manhood, feeling that he couldn't wait any longer, that he had to take her, had to show himself and her who she truly desired.

"− no − I didn't - I didn't know − I swear −" She mumbled and parted her lips, letting out a loud, helpless cry as he thrust his length into her so deeply, that he felt like he was going to pierce her stomach.

He covered her mouth with his hand, licking his lips, feeling her walls clench on him greedily.

She sobbed helplessly into his hand, panting loudly along with him, her gaze hazy, absent, stupefied with pleasure, her hand clenched in his hair allowing her to keep her balance as she rose and fell on him with a loud click of her moisture, his lips pressed to her ear.

"− be quiet − if you wake him up with those sweet sounds, and he sees me take you − sees your naked body − sees your husband sink into you − I'll have no choice but to put his eyes out before I kill him − that would be a huge pity, wouldn't it? − such a handsome face −" He hissed, slamming into her with brutal, deep, fast thrusts of his hips, teasing a spot hidden deep inside her fleshy core.

"− that's right − take me like a good wife you are − take me and maybe I would let him live − would you like that? − would you like your pretty little boy? −" He growled with rage while accelerating aggressively, his hand from her hip slid between her thighs, in circular sharp strokes squeezing her pearl, his other hand pressed against her mouth, muffling the high pitched, pathetic sounds coming from her throat.

With each thrust he stretched her slick walls to the limit, panting along with her, his face pressed against her cheek, her scent wonderfully filling his lungs.

He felt her fingers suddenly tighten on his arm, trying to remove his hand from her mouth – he lowered it and she turned her face towards him, their lips, their tongues, their teeth found each other in a lustful, brutal, greedy kiss, her hand clamped tighter on his hair, holding him close.

"− only yours −" She gasped in the passionate, aggressive dance of their lips and tongues. "− I'm only yours −"

He groaned low into her throat, his manhood twitched hard inside her, demanding to be relieved and fulfilled.

"− I'm going to kill him − I'm going to kill him for you −" He breathed out darkly, low, pounding his length into her with all strength he had in his hips.

She came at his words, aroused by his jealousy, by his possessiveness, moaning loudly into his mouth, her core began to clench against him in pleasure; her body trembled all over as his length slid in and out of her through her elation, refusing to let her come down from her peak.

He felt her throbbing walls squeeze his seed out of him and gasped, sinking his face into her neck – he clenched his eyes shut, panting loudly, focused only on his own pleasure, his fulfilment.

They were both breathing fast and unevenly, trembling with overstimulation – her hand let go of his hair and stroked his face tenderly, her nose and forehead pressed against his cheek.

He sighed quietly, glancing at her, and then they kissed passionately, tenderly, sucking and licking their lips with a soft click.

He pulled away from her, running his fingers over her beautiful, gentle face, in her eyes exactly what he wanted to see.

Love as infinite as the darkness of Hades itself.

He kissed her cheek tenderly, running the tip of his nose over her soft, hot face, his lips traveling to her ear.

_____

"You can choose how he will die."

Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to write part two, I love this couple and the atmosphere of mythology surrounding them, unmistakable and very poetic. I hope you like it as much as the first part.

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