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perlelune · 2 months

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Play with Fire | Feyd-Rautha

Your secret tryst with the na-Baron should have ended the moment you returned to your betrothed on Caladan. And it would have, if your lover was willing to let you go.

Warnings: NON-CON, Knife Play, Blood Play, Breeding Kink, Jealousy, Cheating, Blackmail, Murder, Slight Paul Atreides x Reader, Incest

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

A raspy moan erupts from Feyd-Rautha’s throat as your slick walls squeeze around his hard cock. Your head tosses back, pleasure swirling through your core. Your nails rake across his sculpted, ivory chest and he purrs. You bury them in his flesh, scattering crimson lines across his skin. His hands curl around your hips as he thrusts into you more vigorously. You dig your heels into the rumpled sheets, your mind blanking as his pelvis massages your bundle of nerves.

You chew on your lip, willing yourself to be more quiet. The most arduous task considering the mind-blowing sensations coursing through your heated flesh. Your reputation hinges upon it. If anyone brushed past the na-Baron’s chambers and recognized your voice…you would be ruined.

What a lewd picture the two of you must paint from afar. You, a proper lady from a noble house of Caladan, riding Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s cock with wanton abandon, your dress bunched around you, sweat glistening off your panting frame. The Harkonnen heir-designate is in quite a disheveled state himself, grunting below you, his dark gaze hazy with lust.

“You are a goddess, my darling,” he lauds.

The echo of his gruff baritone ripples across your skin. Feral need bleeds from his words, his ravenous gaze riveted to your writhing form above him. It’s evident the na-Baron is basking in this sight, his tongue flicking through his lips every once in a while. The trail of his dusky eyes goes from your bouncing chest to your entrance, greedily sucking every inch of his length.

“Then fuck me like a god would,” you dare him with a smug smile. A risky move, particularly considering how deep inside you he already is, pulling broken moans from you each time his taut hips meet yours. But you want to push his buttons even more, see how far you can take it.

Grazing the flickering candlelight isn’t enough. You want a blazing inferno to engulf you whole.

You cock your eyebrow and sneer, “I expected more from such a great warrior.” You grab the long silver dagger lying beside him. Feyd-Rautha hardly goes anywhere without a deadly weapon nearby. His bed is no different. You push the tip against his throat. “Fuck me as if your life depended on it, na-Baron…because it does.”

Most men would cower at such words. But Feyd-Rautha isn’t most men. A wild glint of excitement blooms in his orbs. His throat bobs, a look of satisfaction so intense crossing his features, you wonder if he’ll spill himself inside you right at that moment.

He welcomes the threat upon his life like the most wondrous gift, making no move to shirk away from the sharp edge kissing his throat. Bliss decorates his features as you nick him in various spots with the blade, lingering so he feels every ounce of the sting when his flesh is sliced. Your blade curves meticulous patterns in his ivory flesh, drawing raspy moans and elated growls from him. You spread your hand across his chest, pressing your palm into the fresh wounds. Dark blood is smeared across his pale chest. The na-Baron moans at your touch, the pain delighting him. He embraces it as much as the pleasure. Perhaps even more.

He accepts the challenge you give him. A squeal shoots through your lips as he flips your bodies, forcing you on your stomach. He pushes the flowing fabric of your dress up until your dripping folds are bare to him. A shiver of anticipation courses through you when his thick tip presses against your weeping entrance. The blade slips through your fingers, a soundless scream parting from your throat when he slams his cock into you from behind.

The metallic taste of your own blood rains on your tongue when you bite your lip, confining every sound fighting to be unleashed. He wraps his hand around your nape, shoving your head into the mattress, allowing you no time to gather your breath. Each of his thrusts is brutal and unforgiving. He ruins your walls without a care. You find yourself almost wishing you didn’t agitate the beast inside him. Almost. If the sinful dance of torment and bliss weren’t so entrancing, perhaps you would regret it.

His muscular frame covers yours. His scorching breath glosses over the back of your neck as he inquires, “Does my cock meet your high standards, my Lady?”

Your chest heaves as you whimper underneath him. You are so delirious with both pain and pleasure that it’s hard to even think coherent words, let alone utter them. Feyd tears you from your haze with a pointed pinch on your swollen bundle of nerves, making you cry out.

“It’s…a-adequate, my Lord,” you stutter between panting breaths.

“Just adequate?” he scoffs. “Well, this will not do.”

Determined to have you choke on every taunt you threw at him, the na-Baron isn’t satisfied until you’re passed out underneath him. He finds his release as your walls spasm around him. Even as you’re on the cusp of collapse, you urge him to pull out, coaxing him to spill himself over your belly. A sliver of annoyance passes over his features before he surrenders to your wishes. Relief fills you when his warm, sticky seed coats your stomach.

You doubt your fiancé would respond well to you returning with a Harkonnen bastard growing in your womb.

As you wipe yourself with a damp cloth on the edge of the bed, you inform, “My mother and I are returning to Caladan tomorrow.” He doesn’t acknowledge you at first, sitting with his leg bent, completely unabashed in his nakedness. You let your gaze roam over his smooth, hairless muscled flesh. It’s a pleasant sight, one you commit to memory. You’ve enjoyed your time with the na-Baron. And not only did you enjoy yourself, you’ve shed the fear you harbored regarding your wedding night. You loathed the idea of being some shivering, terrified maiden before your husband. You long for more. Giving pleasure but also receiving it. Reciprocity.

Feyd’s head turns. His alabaster face betrays no emotion. He observes, “This was a brief trip.” He tilts his head. “Must I expect your next visit to end as swiftly?”

Mirth tugs the corners of your lips skyward. You crawl towards him.

“There will be no more visits.”

His jaw ticks.

“Is that so?”

You cup his cheek and state, “I am to be married soon.”

A hint of possessiveness flashes across his stony features. Subtle, but there nonetheless. You’ve learnt to decipher the minute shifts in his expression in the two weeks you have spent on Giedi Prime.

He snickers.

“To some lesser man, I reckon.”

You bend over his shoulder. A teasing lilt sneaks into your voice.

“Are you seized by jealousy, my lord, consumed with burning rage at the thought of another man touching me in the ways you have…” Your lips graze his earshell. “Perhaps even being inside me?”

His hand shoots out to clasp around your throat.

“Jealousy is for the weak,” he grates, his cheek pulsing. You smirk. Stoking the flames of his ire often yields…interesting results.

“Then does that make you your weakness, na-Baron?” you jest boldly.

The hand around your throat tightens, impeding your airways. A whine escapes through your lips. He hauls you off the bed and shoves you onto the floor.

“Darling…” he warns, his grip around your neck unwavering. “You speak too much when your mouth should be full of me. On your knees.”

You scowl at his imperious inflection but comply regardless. This is your last encounter with Feyd-Rautha. The last time you bend to his whims. While you’re not fond of his tone, you can discard your disgruntlement for a brief time.

You wrap your fingers around his length. Your dauntless gaze rises to meet his as you start planting kisses along the dark, swollen tip of his pale cock.

“Your wish is my command, my Lord na-Baron,” you whisper teasingly.

You never expected to entertain a secret affair with Feyd-Rautha of all men. For the entirety of your girlhood, you heard horror stories about the Harkonnen, how ruthless and cruel they are, how their wasteland of a planet is a cold, inhospitable rock.

So when your mother announced the two of you would be going on a diplomatic trip to Giedi Prime, you weren’t thrilled. In fact, fear surged through you that day. You kept picturing some awful thing happening as soon as you landed. You thought it to be a punishment, and wondered if perhaps you had offended Leto Atreides and his family in some form without realizing it.

However your parents explained the idea stemmed from a clumsy attempt at quelling the long-standing rivalry between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. Keep those tensions from building into an all-out interstellar war.

While Duke Leto Atreides will not risk his son’s life for a last ditch attempt at peace, the lives of members of a House Minor who swore him allegiance many years ago are more…expendable you suppose.

It is how you, daughter of an Earl with close ties to house Atreides, found yourself on Giedi Prime. Your father voiced his hopes that your sweet disposition would rub off on Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as he bid you goodbye.

Perhaps that plan worked a bit too well.

You barely understood how it happened. How your path and Feyd-Rautha’s collided in such an...unexpected way.

It all started the day you watched him - admired him truly - through your binoculars as he performed in the gladiator arena. That day, a hundred doors opened up inside you, each clamoring to be crossed. Like a castle brimming with rooms you never explored.

The spectacle of death should have repulsed you. Instead, you found his bellicose dance over the sand as the crowd cheered him on fascinating. You were unable to tear your gaze away that day. Inexplicably drawn to something twisted and sick you shouldn’t crave, yet did anyway. You found yourself wondering if those deft, pale fingers are as apt with…other things as they are with blades. It kept you awake at night and obliterated every other thought. How he’d be like. What he tasted like. What it would take to coax out that ferocity you saw in the arena in wildly different circumstances. That strange, irresistible force kept pulling you into his orbit.

So one day, you surrendered to it and snuck into his chambers, offering him your maidenhood. And he took it without hesitation.

In a life in which every decision is made for you, either by your mother, or your father or the Bene Gesserit…It is freeing to finally make a choice for yourself, one that only serves you and not the ends of a mysterious sisterhood whose obscure prophecies mean nothing to you.

However, while you have plucked a modicum of gratification from this affair, it must end. For not only are you spoken for but, during your time on Giedi Prime, you have borne witness to the depth of the na-Baron’s heartlessness.

While you admire his prowess in the arena, you resent his disregard for human life. You’ve trembled as you watched him slaughter servants to test the sharpness of his weapons, slice a cook’s throat for bringing him a meal he found under-seasoned or not warm enough, gut innocent bystanders simply because he had the impulse to do it.

Feyd-Rautha is a mercurial beast. A prime example of the Harkonnens’ capacity for unprovoked, gratuitous violence.

Therefore a flurry of comfort flows you through at the prospect that you’ll be going home soon, back to Caladan’s familiar, flourishing landscapes. Whatever thrill the affair elicited before is beginning to wear off. You long to be home and return to your fiancé.

However that sense of peace crumbles when you return to your chambers that night and find your mother waiting for you on the bed. You smooth out the wrinkles in your dress. It’s useless. The evidence must be all over you because she stomps in your direction, a wild look of rage distorting her usually demure features.

“Have you lost your sanity?” she roars.

You shake your head, feigning ignorance.

“Mother, I have no idea-”

It’s not until the sharp ringing of your mother’s palm flying across your face fills your ears that you realize that she just hit you, the searing sting of pain spreading belatedly. Almost like time stood still in the crux of that instant, leashed by your shock and disbelief. Your mother has never laid hands on you before. Not even once.

Your wide eyes find hers.

She shakes a berating finger at you.

“Do not lie to me, child. How many kinds of an idiot do you believe me to be?” Your mouth shudders as you clutch your throbbing cheek. The strength with which your mother struck you still pulses right below your fingertips. “You even reek of his foul stench. My own flesh and blood…smelling like a filthy Harkonnen whore.”

Your face burns, from both pain and shame.

“You foolish girl.” Her gaze narrows as she leans back, gulping a wide lungful before speaking again. “After your father and I moved the heavens to secure a worthy match for you?” She shakes her head. “You are lucky we are leaving tomorrow and that your father will not hear a word of this.” She pauses, sadness and disgust tinging her tone. “You were such a sweet, kind little girl, so curious and clever, always clinging to my skirts…” Your mother sighs. “So dutiful. What mistake did I make in raising you for you to become such an utter disappointment?”

Your heart shrinks under her accusing glare. A sheet of guilt pervades you as you fall silent, finding no word to stand up to your mother. She is right. Reality crashes over you. You were in a haze, a lust-driven fog. Now you’re wide awake, as if a bucket of freezing water was poured over you. You have besmirched yourself and your house, tossing away your virtue for…what? Ephemeral moments of delight. The more you mull over your actions, the more you realize how impulse-driven and dangerous they were…that all of it was a mistake.

Your mother’s words drop a hot stone of shame in the pit of your stomach, one that remains lodged inside you even as you land on Caladan. Not a single word is exchanged between the two of you in the brief time you sit together in the starship transporting you back home. Instead, a heavy silence rife with animosity fills the air.

You’re grateful Feyd-Rautha is notably absent the day of your departure. You don’t have the fortitude to peer at him, face your mistakes. And it’s what he is. The walking, breathing embodiment of your mistakes.

So in the ephemeral span of time required for time and space to fold and bring you back home, you sink back into your role of virtuous and demure lady of your house.

As you and your parents disembark, you let your eyes soak in Caladan’s beautiful landscapes. Lush, green plains fill your sight, their familiarity sending a wave of calm through you. Finally, you’re home. Light-years away from bloodthirsty warriors and caliginous planets with blotted skies rife with smoke and pollution. You are ready to bury the entire ordeal behind you and return to normalcy.

Expectedly, the Atreides clan is there to welcome you and your parents back home.

A small smile appears on Paul’s face when your gaze lands on him. Your stomach knots as you return it. He can never learn what occurred on Giedi Prime. That secret will follow you to your grave. You approach him, pointedly ignoring your mother’s sizzling stare.

Her apprehension permeates through you even from where you are. There can be no other mistakes.

Your match with Paul Atreides must be a success. For both your house’s sake and the safe continuation of the Bene Gesserit’s breeding program. The pinnacle of centuries of scheming and puppeteering from the shadows. Your mother impressed it upon you many times over the years. How the purity of the bloodlines must be preserved. How all of it serves to bring humanity closer to its age of enlightenment. And while you are not so conceited to believe you will bring forth the long-awaited Kwisatz Aderach…you understand your role in producing an offspring that perhaps may nudge the sisterhood closer to that goal.

You suppress the tremor in your hand as your cousin plucks your hand to kiss the back of it.

“May we walk together for some time?” he inquires.

Relief swells inside you. Chatting away from prying ears is a welcome prospect, the combined scrutinies of both your families flaring your nerves. You can even feel Lady Jessica’s attention on you now. What if your mother’s half-sister saw right through you? Your aunt’s sharp Bene Gesserit’s senses have always stirred a vague unease within you. Today even more so, as you choke on so many secrets you can barely breathe.

“With pleasure,” you respond, accepting his hand as he guides you away from the welcoming committee.

The two of you engage in a tranquil stroll across the grassy field.

“I trust your journey went well, cousin,” Paul says.

Flashes of torrid nights spent in a bed you shouldn’t be in force their way inside your mind. You quell the pesky memories, your brows knitting.

You coax a demure smile onto your features.

“It was a…learning opportunity. One I wholly embraced.”

Naturally, you spare your soon-to-be husband the details of what it is you learned and with who.

Your fiancé nods.

“It sounds delightful.” His green eyes soften as he mumbles, “You were missed.”

“By you, my Lord?” you beam, happiness fluttering through you.

Over the last few months, since the official announcement of your betrothal, your fondness for Paul grew the more time you two shared. The crush you harbored for him as a child blossomed into more, his kindness and nobility of heart winning you over. But you never expected him to reciprocate those feelings.

A hint of pink dusts Paul’s cheeks. Straightening his spine, he clears his throat.

“Many…including myself,” he answers evasively.

Your smile widens. “I would hope my betrothed noticed my absence.”

Warmth rushes through you as replies, his tone dropping, “It was definitely noticed, my Lady.”

He suddenly falls quiet. Thoughts seem to lurk in his mind, causing a deep frown to carve his brow.

Concern tickles your insides.

“Is something troubling you, my Lord?”

He hesitates, his thin lips squeezing before he reveals, “Mother believes I should take you as concubine, not as a wife, in case another marriage prospect presents itself to me.”

You ponder his words. It does not surprise you coming from your cunning aunt, that she would encourage her son to keep his options open the way his father did. A sliver of bitter disappointment percolates through your chest. Being Paul Atreides’ concubine would have its range of perks. You could stand beside him, share his bed and perhaps even a genuine love one day. One as deep and true as the one his parents have nurtured for years.

But it would also mean that while you’d undeniably be his, Paul would never truly be yours…that he could become someone else’s overnight to secure some treaty or alliance with another house.

Still, you conceal the panic rushing through you with a meek nod.

“It would be a clever move,” you say. You hold his eyes. “What did the Duke say?”

“That he regrets not making my mother his Duchess everyday.”

He seizes your hands, his fingers curling tightly around yours. Determination steels his olive gaze. “I do not wish to repeat my father’s mistakes,” he states.

The worry building inside you is stifled by his soft reassurance.

“That is a relief to hear, my Lord.”

As Paul’s fond gaze rests on you however, guilt creeps inside you once more, your mind wandering to the debauchery you surrendered to on Geidi Prime. Self-loathing fills you.

You tear your hands from his, your focus tumbling to the ground.

“Are you unwell, my Lady?” he asks, his tone dripping with concern.

You shake your head, giving a false smile.

“It’s nothing. I was simply lost in my thoughts,” you lie.

Interest blooms in his green orbs. “Would you care to share them with me?”

The blood in your veins freezes. You pale to think how Paul, your beloved, his beautiful eyes overflowing with love and trust, would look at you if he knew. The mere thought makes you queasy. He can never know.

“I was simply overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of our union, my Lord.”

He accepts your explanation without a shadow of doubt in his eyes. He takes your hands in his again, fervently promising, “I am aware that greater forces may have rushed our union, but I want you to know. I will love and cherish you with my whole heart.”

For several days, you get to bask in your renewed peace, finding solace in returning to your habits and focusing on the wedding preparations. While your mother’s coldness remains, you don’t let her behavior cast a pale on your happiness. Besides, she will be compelled to acknowledge your efforts over time, how much you strive to do nothing but bring pride to your house. You may have faltered on Giedi Prime, yielded to your baser instincts. But it is all in the past.

The dusky planet will fade. Feyd-Rautha will fade. And soon, memories of your life with Paul will replace those fleeting moments of weakness.

So, for a while, all is well, your mind at rest and your spirits lifted. All is well... until nothing is.

Until a handmaiden brutally tears you from your slumber one morning.

“My lady, you must awake now,” she whispers, urgency laced in her tone.

“Arisha…The Devil himself must sleep at this hour,” you groan, burying your head in your soft, comfortable pillow.

A Harkonnen ship just pierced through the Caladan exosphere. Its landing is imminent.”

Dread shoots through you.

The news has you leaping out of bed, abruptly hurling you into a state of complete wakefulness.

You whirl towards her.

“A Harkonnen ship?” you screech, your voice wavering.

“Yes, my Lady,” Arisha confirms.

Your mind throbs as alarm pulses through you. A Harkonnen ship…here on Caladan? This isn’t just strange. It is unprecedented.

“Help me get dressed, at once,” you command, already shedding your nightgown.

You rush to get ready, joining your family as they hop on an aircraft to reach the landing site. Your chest is tight the entire time.

When you arrive, a striking scene welcomes you. On one side of the large landing strip, the Atreides army stands proudly, flanking the Duke and his family, while on the other there is a Harkonnen battalion, accompanied by a large swarm of Sardaukar soldiers.

A thick layer of tension coats the air, so palpable you feel its weight on your skin as you join the Atreides’ side. Both sides are poised for battle, ready to draw their weapons and unleash hell if need be. The fresh morning Caladan breeze is heavy with the threat of imminent bloodshed. Your gaze drifts to the mighty Duncan Idaho. The swordmaster’s face is uncharacteristically stern, the usual cockiness he dons gone from his features.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat.

You pivot to Thufir Hawat, the Atreides’ mentat. A hushed question rushes through your lips. “Thufir, how much will it cost them, traveling this far from Giedi Prime to Caladan?”

The mentat’s orbs gloss over with a white veil as his genetically altered mind runs calculations faster than any regular human could. Within a few seconds, he supplies a precise answer. “Two guild navigators, a total of one million two hundred ninety thousand fifty three and a quarter solaris round trip, my Lady.”

You release a quivering breath. The cost of the trip alone has a pang of foreboding twist your insides. Who squanders such a vast amount of solaris over a courtesy visit in enemy territory?

Only a fool or a madman would do such a thing.

Your eyes travel across the field. A familiar dark gaze corrals yours. Your heart skips a beat. For brief seconds, familiar pale lips rise in a taunting smile.

A shudder rocks through your frame. You lower your eyes, keeping them on the grass.

Him? Here? On your beloved Caladan? Adrenaline pumps through your blood, your pulse spiking. A frown forms on your brow. Sense is amiss here. You thought him a beast, driven by nothing but violence and lust. But as you take in the scene unfolding before you, the two enemy armies trapped in a standstill, you understand more clearly.

This is not some impulsive, foolish attempt. This is a calculated move. No side can hurt each other this openly without annihilating each other and causing a global, intergalactic incident. The other houses of the Landsraad would be forced to declare allegiance for one side or the other. The Imperium would be compelled to respond. Chaos would erupt.

And it’s blatant the na-Baron knows it, a smugness etched on his face despite standing in enemy fields.

You are so consumed by your raging train of thoughts that you nearly miss the tail end of the conversation between the Duke, your father and him.

Shock bolts through you when you catch the suggestion that he should stay in your family’s estate.

Indignation pulses through your words.

“In our home, father?”

Your father shoots you a withering glance. Your head dips as you bite your tongue. No protest should have risen from it. As an Earl’s daughter, your opinion in such matters is irrelevant. So despite the frustration and horror swelling inside you, you bind every objection to the cage of your sealed lips.

His gristly, arrogant baritone booms across the field.

“In light of the…belligerent history House Harkonnen and House Atreides share, I believe it may be ill-advised for me to stay at Castle Caladan.” Despite your bowed head, you can paint a vivid picture of the haughty smile stretched on his lips as he says, “And since our two houses have grown undeniably close, thanks to your daughter’s most skilled, clever tongue...” Your heart races as you quietly pray no one present deciphers the lewd implication behind his words. “It is where I shall take residence for the duration of my stay.”

Later that same day, Feyd-Rautha wastes no time in finding you, making the purpose of his visit clear when he sneaks into your chambers. His reflection in your vanity mirror as you remove your headdress startles you.

You jump to your feet.

“Guards?” you call sharply.

He cocks his head, a smirk ghosting over his plump lips.

“Guards?” he repeats, openly mocking you. “I have Harkonnen soldiers at your door, my darling.”

A shudder ripples through your spine. You lift your chin, your tone firm and commanding as you say, “You can’t be here, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. It is inappropriate.”

He snorts.

“Inappropriate?” A predatory look crosses his features as his dark gaze roams over you, seeming to peel the layers of your dress. “I do not recall that being an issue when I had you spread over my cock back on Giedi Prime.”

Heat rushes to your face at his lewd reminder.

“Y-You must leave,” you insist, fighting to quell the tremor in your voice.

“Or what?” he challenges, taking slow, lithe steps in your direction. Your pulse soars. “Will you scream?” A crooked slant appears on his mouth, the prospect clearly filling him with great delight. He hums low in his throat. “Then how will you explain my presence in your chambers?”

You recoil, every hair on your body bristling as he inches closer. The realization that you are alone with him, with no help coming, that power you held before now robbed from you, has dread steadily mounting inside you. On Giedi Prime, he was a leashed monster, one you felt you could sway as you like. Here in your room, he is a ravenous creature, hungry for blood and retribution. One you no longer have control over.

You dash towards the exit. He smoothly impedes your attempt at escaping, his fingers fastening around your wrist while he grabs your body from behind. He yanks you backwards, pulling you against his chest.

“Not so fast,” he sneers. His tongue slips out to drag across your temple. You wince, jerking in his embrace to free yourself. You bend over him and sink your teeth in the flesh of his arm. He purrs in pleasure, his hold on you tightening. His gravelly whisper summons goosebumps on your skin. “Oh darling, such a slippery one you are, always trying to run from me whenever things start to become most…interesting.”

He hauls you to your bed. Your heels dig into the ground to resist. His patience fizzles out and he throws you onto the carpeted floor instead. The clamor of your drumming heart rises to a crescendo in your ears. He looms over you, his body caging yours. Terrorized, you gape at him, an helplessness you never felt before pulsing through your veins. Your chest heaves rapidly, alarm widening your gaze as he reaches down to pull down his black pants. His erect, alabaster cock slips free, the swollen tip already shimmering with the evidence of his need. A scream dies in your throat when his fingers wrap around your neck, bruises already forming in his painful grip.

You thrash beneath him, clawing and biting every part of him you can reach. Your feistiness only serves to galvanize him further. A demented look of amusement decorates his handsome face as you struggle underneath his frame. His throbbing length pokes your stomach. You kick your legs, desperation radiating through your chest. He places himself between your thighs, pushing your dress out of the way until it’s bunched around your waist. A raspy sigh leaves him as he nudges his thick, leaking tip against your dry entrance.

Terror sings through your veins.

He revels in every bit of fight you give him, plucking satisfaction in watching you exert yourself to delay the inevitable. A hungry wolf toying with a lamb before sinking his teeth. Even as you grab the dagger hidden under your skirts and try to stab him, he’s undeterred, the flicker of surprise shifting to a smile when you nick his shoulder blade. He wrenches it from your hand with little effort, once more demonstrating that whatever frail control you thought you ever had…was just an illusion. You squeal in pain as he twists your wrists above your head, his steely grip nearly snapping your bones.

“No…don’t you dare,” you hiss, the confidence in your voice faltering as you feel him push inside you.

His warm breath brushes over your face. “I traveled across the stars to find you again. I will take what is rightfully mine.”

Your back folds as he spears you with his cock. The room blurs around you, the sudden searing pain as he begins to move inside you almost knocking you unconscious. He never took you like that. Like an animal in heat, desperate to reach his high. You choke on your breath with every one of his quick, feral thrusts.

His lips sweep over yours, ravenous and possessive. You bite him and he growls, somehow growing harder inside you. His sick enjoyment of this makes you shudder. He fondles your soft flesh, groaning into the bloody kiss. Black teeth trail possessive bites along the quivering column of your neck. His hands feel everywhere on your reluctant flesh, the weight of him suffocating as his greedy mouth tastes yours.

“You thought you could toy with me and toss me aside when it pleased you,” he rumbles, squeezing your jaw. His fingers dig painfully into your cheeks. “I am Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. I am not some spoiled little princess’ toy.”

The last remnants of bravado inside you are swiftly pushed by the hasty, merciless snap of his hips into yours. You try to ignore the horrid heat gathering in your lower belly, the spasms rocking through your core every time he hits those tender spots he’s come to know too well.

“I’m delighted to see your body hasn’t forgotten me, darling,” he taunts, yanking a drawn-out whimper from you as his cock punches through your walls.

Your chest grazes his, his form draping over yours as you sag against the floor of your bedroom, completely defeated.

“Please…” The desperate, feeble cry falls from your tongue in a last ditch effort to get him to stop. It only makes him smile down at you, a glint of victory illuminating his dark orbs. Tears well up in your eyes as you grow overwhelmed with fear, confused and terrified by the way your body yields to him. Your walls constrict around him, hugging his cock as if welcoming the assault. A wave of sickness spreads through you.

His tongue traces a slow path across your cheek, collecting the salty trails streaming down your face. He moans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Your tears taste sweeter than I could have imagined. Almost as sweet as that tight cunt of yours.” He licks his lips. “Perhaps I shall aim to make you cry for me more often.”

When his warm spent glazes your ruined walls, his sweat-covered muscular frame covers yours. He remains buried inside you, crudely pushing back the sticky excess with his fingers. You shiver beneath him, weeping quietly, forever destroyed, forever changed.

Head nestled in the crook of your neck, he whispers, “We shall see how well my seed blossoms in your garden, my darling.”

“I do not understand,” Paul says, turning a dismayed frown upon you. “You are to be his willing bride?”

Swallowing a deep breath, you recollect the events that have led you here. Led you to stand here before the members of House Atreides, before your fiancé, to announce that you will not marry Paul. Led to you disgracing yourself and your house.

The wayward memories slip through your grieving mind.

Focusing on their conversation is hard, the discomfort in your body making it hard to walk properly. Feyd-Rautha relishes your torment, occasionally tossing taunting glances at you above his shoulder, a secretive smirk hovering on his lips. Your fingers clench in your lap. He insisted your father give him a tour of the castle this morning, and as his supposed ‘friend’, you are naturally expected to be present. Nevermind the sickness and resentment taking hold of you whenever you look at him.

As the tour nears its end, your father asks, “Do you have everything you need, na-Baron, or do you require any further accommodations?”

Feyd-Rautha hums, as if he were truly mulling over this offer.

“Any further accommodations?” He smirks, pausing before resting his eyes on you. “I suppose your daughter’s hand in marriage will do.”

Your head snaps up, a stunned exhale bursting from your mouth.

Your father turns a puzzled frown towards the ivory-skinned young man.

“My daughter’s hand? Is this a joke?”

There isn’t a hint of mischief on the na-Baron’s face, his expression deadly serious, making your father realize…his request must be as serious. He halts in his tracks, the smile vanishing from his face.

Feyd-Rautha approaches your father, ordering rather than asking, “Cancel the match with Atreides, old man, and give your daughter to me instead.” He snickers. “Her virtue is already mine anyway.”

This sends your father into a blind rage. He draws out his sword and lunges himself at the na-Baron.

“You rascal. I will teach you-”

Your father was a great warrior once, a fearsome force on the battlefield. Duncan Idaho himself would attest to that, having fought at his side several times.

…But that was decades ago. Nowadays with his body slowed down by age, he is no match for the quick, ruthless Feyd-Rautha. He barely gets the opportunity to swing his sword at the young man once before Feyd-Rautha guides his blade below his chin and through his skull. Blood gurgles from your father’s mouth, raining over his neck and clothes before he falls into a heap on the floor.

Your stomach drops. You watch in horror at his split skull, matter spilling from it across the tiles, his rolled back eyes, his still open mouth.

You sink to the floor, crawling to his corpse. Fresh blood stains your palms as you cradle his head.

“Father!” Tears blur your sight. You lift your eyes, yelling out orders with a broken voice. “Guards! Detain him!”

Shock ripples through you as the guards ignore you, staring ahead blankly as if the gruesome scene before them didn’t exist.

Feyd-Rautha kneels at your side. He frames your chin, bending over your shoulder to whisper,

“Oh darling, do you not understand?” You hear the wicked smile in his raspy baritone. “Your house isn’t your house anymore. It is mine.” Ice bursts through your veins. His gravelly voice lowers, as if he were sharing a secret with you. “Do you wish for your sisters and mother to meet the same fate?”

Your chin wobbles in his grasp. “N-No.”

He strokes the side of your face.

“Then do everything I say.”

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” you reply with a tremulous nod.

Ire trembles through Paul’s voice, his fingers clenching into fists at his side. Disbelief and hurt contort his boyish features.

“I do not believe it. I do not believe you,” he says, pinning you with an unflinching stare. You lower your gaze. You can hardly believe it yourself. How your entire life fell apart, your future in ruins…your father’s blood now on your hands. You blink back budding tears and take a deep breath to thwart any hint of trembling in your voice. You’re grateful for the funeral veil concealing your expression. “I apologize for breaking the promise my father made.”

Paul’s jaw clenches.

“You’re lying.”

“Son…” Leto Atreides begins, a slight warning in his tone.

“There is something she isn’t telling me, father,” Paul insists, his green gaze narrowing. “Speak the truth.”

You shiver before feebly uttering, “My Lord…”

“Silence!” You flinch at the sudden wave of power engulfing you, forcing you into quietness as if someone snatched your tongue from your mouth. You release a shaky breath, staring up at Paul in shock. The Voice. Paul used the Voice on you. A Bene Gesserit skill meant to make the target bow to the user’s will. Your wide-eyed gaze rests on Paul. You never expected him to use this on you. As if you were some enemy he needed to interrogate.

His anger cracks in the air like a whip.

“I said…Speak the truth,” he snaps, using the Voice again.

A great pain settles in your body, pins and needles coursing through it. Sweat breaks out on your skin. Words tear from your throat on their own, aching as they spring from your tongue.

“I offered myself to him on Giedi Prime,” you blurt out.

Your hands fly to your mouth as soon as the words pour out of you. Your eyes fill with tears. Paul looks at you in a way he never has before. Like you’re a stranger. Your heart sinks.

“I see. So it is true.”

Meanwhile, at your side, Feyd-Rautha basks in every second of the spectacle, twisted mirth swaying in his dark orbs. He hasn’t said more than a few words during the whole exchange but it’s clear he’s plucking joy from this, reveling in your misery.

Paul nods, stepping away from you.

“You are dismissed, my Lady. You may go to your future husband.”

Paul’s icy timbre shatters what is left of your heart. He turns his back to you and you feel more alone than you ever have in your entire life. Your lips clamp shut, a cold wave setting all the way to your bones.

Even Paul’s parents, the Duke and your aunt the Lady Jessica appear disappointed in you, their eyes bereft of its usual warmth as they watch you leave with the enemy.

You have nothing, no one. Just the monster beside you. Your soon-to-be husband, who won your hand through bloodshed and deception.

Feyd-Rautha’s hand curls around your waist, guiding you towards his starship. With every step you take, further away from the Atreides castle, you feel more hollow.

“Come with me, my love. Let us go home to Giedi Prime,” the monster whispers.

You don’t put up a fight as you’re nudged inside the vessel, silently accepting your defeat. Feyd-Rautha plants a deep, slow kiss on your lips and you passively let it happen.

You admire the beautiful green fields of Caladan one last time before the doors close. An errant tear skips over your cheek. You likely will never see your planet again. And even if by some miracle you could return, you would be the enemy to all of them…even to your own family, who holds you responsible for Father’s untimely demise.

You peer down at your hands. If you let your mind wander, you start to relive that awful moment. That moment your father’s wet, warm blood coated your hands, dripping between your fingers. You will never wash off the stain, shed the guilt.

You wanted to feel the flames, experience the full-blown heat of something thrilling and new. Something you never had in your tedious, predictable existence before.

You in fact got to feel this heat. You walked through the fire and the flames consumed everything you held dear.

And now you stand amidst the ashes, everything you ever knew ripped from you forever.

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha #dune #dune part 2 #feyd-rautha harkonnen #dark!fic

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gridbug · 1 year

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The new issue of Transgender Studies Quarterly focuses on the relationship between the gender critical movement and the global far right and features this amazing article by Gina Gwenffrewi titled “J.K. Rowling and the Echo Chamber of Secrets”

it’s not paywalled and unlike most academic papers it is readable, focusing on how the narratives of legacy media in Britain amplify and enable transphobia by using terf Twitter as a source, and then terf Twitter in turn uses the articles to legitimize their agenda. It’s like an ouroboros of shittiness. The article is mostly a personal essay about how hard it is to break through that and the toll of dealing with that as a trans woman, and how the mythologies of liberal open debate obscure what’s really at work. The abstract is kinda jargoney but that’s mostly for search placement reasons.

#j.k. rowling #harry potter #transphobes #lgbt #transgender studies quarterly #trans rights #bookblr #article heads #echo chamber #transgender #far right #certified joanne moment #no terfs please #I just want to share a cool article

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ro-is-struggling · 10 months

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Secret Encounters || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: They know it's wrong, but they can't deny the desire and lust that overcomes them every time they are together.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn with a little bit of plot (not really), fingering, penetrative sex, mirror sex, rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, breeding kink, dirty talk, mentions of cheating (reader is engaged), fem reader (she’s a princess)

English is not my first language

Word count: 3900

Notes: I promise I'll stop writing tragic princess x witcher stories after this one. Also, sorry for the shitty summary but it's only smut so it was kinda hard to come up with something lol

Geralt had never been fond of royalty, but the moment his eyes fell on hers he knew she was different. He didn't really understand why, but he felt some type of way whenever she was near. Her perfume was intoxicating, a sweet scent that lingered on his clothes and skin and accompanied him wherever he went. He could not escape her even when he wandered alone through the forest in search of the beast he had been hired to kill... not even when he was lying in his bed at night, surrounded by the darkness of the room as he tried to rest. Her scent enveloped him at all times, awakening something deep inside him. It drove him crazy, crazy enough to act on his desires.

He knew it was wrong, it was inappropriate to take advantage of the king's hospitality like that. And she knew it was wrong too, she was a princess soon to be married, a woman of high value who had no business with a witcher like Geralt. And yet, neither seemed to be able to stay away from the other. It was as if there was some kind of energy force pulling them together, the very will of destiny imposing itself over their own. When Geralt showed up at her chambers she knew she should have turned him away. No matter how much she had been longing for him to take her in his arms and make her his, the right thing to do was to reject him and move on with her life. In fact, she had opened the door with the intention of doing exactly that, but when her eyes met the imposing figure of the witcher, towering over her as his amber eyes admired her face, she could not resist the temptation. She gave in to her desires, crashing her lips against his in a desperate kiss as she slowly pulled him into her room.

The feel of his touch lingered on her body for days, her skin permanently marked by the roughness of his caresses and the warm wetness of his mouth. The sound of his grunts of pleasure as he buried himself in her echoed in her mind at all times. He was all she could think about. She knew it was wrong, but she needed to feel his hands on her body again, exploring every inch of her skin as he showed her pleasure like no other man could.

Despite their desperation, they were able to keep their hands off each other for a while. Though all their self-control disappeared by the time of Geralt's last day in the castle. After slaying the beast —and collecting his reward— the witcher was ready to leave when the king made him an offer he couldn't resist. There would be a feast in celebration of the fall of the creature that had terrorized the town and Geralt, as their savior, was the guest of honor. He would normally have declined the offer, although the promise of free food and alcohol sounded enticing, he hated the idea of being stuck with a bunch of drunken noblemen. However, this time it gave him the perfect excuse to stay there a while longer and say goodbye to the princess the right way —the way he knew they had both been fantasizing about since their last encounter.

The party quickly turned into a game of cat and mouse, defiant yellow eyes meeting hers in the crowd, admiring her lips as she laughed and the way her body moved as she danced. She was doing it on purpose, accepting the proposals of all the knights who bowed in front of her to provoke him. She wanted to spark a reaction in him, see how far she could push him, how far she could push the boundaries of their secret relationship. The thought of being caught filled her body with adrenaline, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that he could almost hear it over the noise of the party.

She waited for the right moment and took advantage of the first distraction to escape to her bedroom. Her eyes met Geralt's before disappearing behind the side door of the great hall, her desire-laden expression a silent plea for him to follow her. She sat in front of the large mirror in her room waiting for him, removing the jewelry from her hair and combing her hair without any haste. And just as she expected, only a few minutes after her arrival, she felt the sound of the door's wood creaking as it opened. She saw Geralt lock the door behind him in the reflection of the mirror and she had to hold back the smile that wanted to form on her lips —a failed attempt to save some of her decency and not look so desperate.

"You're not supposed to be here." She said as if his presence didn't make her heart race. "It's wrong."

"That's not what you said the other night." Geralt's deep voice was music to her ears, his slightly mocking tone awakening that tingle under her skin. He walked up to her, holding her gaze in the mirror as if challenging her. He stood tall at her back, close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but not close enough to feel the brush of his hands on her skin.

"The other night was a mistake." She affirmed, setting the comb aside. It was true, their furtive encounter, though pleasurable, had been a mistake. But they both knew well that neither really cared. The desire they felt, the tension in the air, it was all too much, it clouded their thinking leaving them at the mercy of their most primitive feelings.

Geralt reached out his hands to her, brushing her hair aside so he could caress her skin. He noticed how she stifled a sigh through the reflection of the mirror, his warm touch awakening that flame within her. His fingers moved gently across her shoulders, up her neck until they reached her cheeks. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, losing herself in the moment. It felt just as she remembered it, warm and hard, yet strangely soft and comforting at the same time. It was as if his hands had never left her skin, as if his caresses were permanently carved into her body.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" he said, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He knew the answer to her question, he could read it on her face, smell it in the air, feel it in the vein in her neck that throbbed rapidly beneath his fingers. But still, he needed to be sure he was right, hear from her lips the plea for his caresses. He needed to know that she was as desperate as he was.

She didn't give him a verbal response, just rose from her seat and pressed her lips to his. Geralt's hands closed around her waist, pulling her body against his as he quickly took control of the kiss. She didn't bother fighting for dominance, acknowledging her subordination to him almost immediately. She didn't need to win, she just needed to feel his hands on her skin again, gripping and caressing every inch of her body in a rush of pleasure until the early morning sun forced them apart.

There was nothing tender and soft about the way Geralt's lips attacked hers, only lust and desperation, but she loved every part of it. She loved the way his tongue invaded her mouth and how his teeth nibbled at her lips before moving his wet kisses down her neck, sucking and biting at the skin without fear of leaving marks. He knew he could do whatever he wanted with her as she was completely at his mercy, surrendered to the pleasure only he could give her. She didn't care if she had to spend the next week finding creative ways to hide the evidence of their furtive encounter, she just needed to feel him. She wanted him to mark her, to declare ownership over her body. She knew she belonged to him, always would, even if she never saw him again after tonight.

Clothes soon became a problem, a barrier that kept them apart, so desperate hands worked carelessly to fix it. Her dress was the first to go, the expensive fabric pooling around her feet leaving her naked body completely exposed to Geralt's hungry gaze. She should have been embarrassed, but nothing but lust and anticipation pumped through her veins. He was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful and sensual woman he had ever seen, as if she were a goddess he had the privilege of pleasing. Never before had anyone looked at her in that way, so intense, so filled with adoration. She loved it, it made her feel special, powerful.

Geralt didn't waste a second, calloused fingers caressing every inch of exposed skin. It awakened a fire inside her, a tingling that spread throughout her body, concentrating on her core. His teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin of her neck, sinking his canines into her as his hands moved down to her breasts, earning a couple of sighs from the princess as he showed attention to her nipples erect with anticipation. He smiled against her neck, proud of himself as the scent of her arousal lingered in the air. It was an intoxicating scent, the sweet forbidden fruit begging him to take it.

When his fingers slipped between her wet folds, she let out a moan of pleasure as her grip on the witcher's shoulders tightened. It was as beautiful as he remembered, a harmonious melody traveling through him and going straight to his cock. It was the sound of temptation, of lust, urging him to carry on, to forget all rules of morality and decorum and take what was his.

“P-please, Geralt.” She pleaded against his lips. Her breathing was rapid and she looked up at him through half-closed eyelids. He slipped two of his fingers inside her with ease, pushing them as deep as he could and moving them until he made her moan. She looked so beautiful like this, her eyes closed in pleasure and her parted lips releasing those beautiful desperate sighs, completely at his mercy.It was an image that would stay in Geralt's mind for quite some time.

"I know, I know," he soothed her, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek. "I have to get you ready for me."

"I-I need to feel you, p-please." She whimpered in a pathetic, desperate attempt to get him to do what she wanted. She needed to feel all of him, his hot skin pressed against hers, his fingernails sinking into the skin of her hips as he buried his cock deep inside her, his ragged breaths in the hollow of her neck. She needed him as much as she needed the air she breathed and could wait no longer.

Thankfully he took pity on her, removing his hands from her body to unbutton his pants. She suppressed the whimper that wanted to escape her throat as she felt empty without his fingers inside her, knowing the sensation would not last for long. Geralt instructed her to turn over and her body obeyed him before she could process his words or wonder what he was up to. Her body no longer belonged to her, it belonged to him and always would.

He held her against his chest for a moment, one hand roaming her body while the other held her head steady facing forward. She could feel his hard member pressed against her lower back as his heat enveloped her completely. Their gazes met in the mirror once more and she saw the darkness of desire staining the beautiful yellow orbs. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent before lowering his lips to her ear.

"I want you to look at yourself in the mirror as I fuck you, princess." Geralt whispered in her ear, his voice firm and slightly deeper than normal. His eyes never left hers in the mirror, studying her reaction in the reflection. "I want you to see how beautiful you look with your face scrunched up in pleasure so you'll remember it after I'm gone and your future husband can't make you feel this good."

He gave her no warning before pushing his hard cock into her tight wet hole, and he wasn't gentle either. A quick thrust of his hips and he was balls deep inside her as her velvety walls struggled to take him. Geralt was big, it was almost hard for him to fully fit inside her despite how aroused she was. But it wasn't painful, not in a bad way at least. She loved the way his cock stretched her, almost impaling her on it when it was all the way in. The burning only added to her pleasure, the knot in her belly tightening with the promise of her orgasm.

Geralt set a fast, torturous pace, earning a string of incoherent moans each time he touched that special place deep inside her. She could feel him twitching inside her as her walls closed around him, desperate to hold him in place. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time, a mixture of feelings born of her need for relief. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with her cries of pleasure and Geralt's grunts filled the room. It was loud and she wouldn't be surprised if she discovered that someone passing through the corridor could hear them, but she didn't care. She felt too good to worry about anything else.

The pleasure she felt was so intense that she had trouble keeping her eyes open, her heavy eyelids closing involuntarily against the force of Geralt's thrusts. But each time she did, he tightened his grip on her jaw, growling in her ear for her to open them. The image reflected in the mirrored surface was too much for her to take. Her small figure wrapped in the strong arms of her lover towering over her and making her feel even smaller and more insignificant. The bulge forming in her lower belly with each thrust showed just how deep inside her Geralt was. His teeth on her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin without taking his intense gaze away from her eyes in the mirror. And finally, her face, with parted lips letting out a string of melodious moans, and glassy eyes filled with tears that threatened to escape at the sheer intensity of what she was feeling. The expression of pure pleasure on her face was one she had never seen on her before —and she feared that after tonight she would never see it again.

It was all too much for her, and the possessive way Geralt was acting didn't help her in the slightest. He was determined to leave a mark on her, both physically and mentally. He wanted her to see traces of him on her own skin after he was gone, but he also wanted to make sure she remembered him. Make sure she remembered the intensity of the moment and the way he had made her feel. He wanted her to think of him every time her future husband left her unsatisfied, touching herself to relieve the pressure inside her as images of him in this very moment flashed through her mind.

He made sure to let her know his intentions between grunts of pleasure, feeling her walls close around his member with every word that left his lips. She liked it as much as he did and that only egged him on.

"Geralt, please," she begged, not quite sure of what it was she was asking of him. Please stop because the pleasure traveling through my veins is too much to bear? Please keep going and don't stop until I'm passed out from exhaustion and you've ruined me for the rest of the men? She wasn't sure, both options were equally valid.

"I know... just let go," he encouraged her, his warm breath crashing against the skin of her ear as he spoke. "Just let go for me, princess."

Her body took his words as a command and it wasn't long before the knot in her belly snapped, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her insides. Her orgasm hit her like a pile of bricks, leaving her completely stupid. Geralt's name escaped her lips like a prayer as she lost herself in pleasure. All thought left her mind, she could only feel as her lover's thrusts slowed, her body trembling in his arms from overstimulation.

She only had a couple of seconds to recover, whining as she felt empty when Geralt pulled away from her momentarily. Her legs were weak and she struggled to stand, so he took her in his arms and laid her down on the bed carefully. He settled into the space between her legs, taking a moment to admire her and caress her body before continuing. His hands ran over her warm, sweat-covered skin in an almost gentle way, an act that contrasted with the roughness of his behavior so far but was nonetheless welcomed by her.

The tenderness didn't last long, though, because once he slid his cock inside her once more, he returned to the animalistic grunts and punishing rhythm of his thrusts. This time it was more desperate and erratic, letting her know that he was close to his own orgasm. His cock twitched inside her, threatening to paint her velvety walls with his seed. The very idea was enough to have her on the edge again.

"You feel me, princess?" He said, taking one of her hands and bringing it down to her lower belly. He pressed it against her skin, trapping it between his palm and the bulge forming there from his cock. It added a new sensation and she couldn't contain the moan that escaped her throat. "Feel how deep inside of you I am?

"Fuck," she cursed, eyes rolling back as her free hand clutched at Geralt's wrist to make sure he didn't move it off her belly. The pressure felt too good, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her with a force that left her breathless.

"I'm the only one who gets is deep, f-fuck, the only one who makes you feel this way." He wasn't asking, it was a clear statement, but still she nodded, letting out repeated affirmations between high-pitched moans.

"I belong to you... My body is forever yours, no one will ever make me feel this good." The animalistic growl he let out at those words almost pushed her over the edge, leaving her on the verge of her second orgasm. She knew he was close too, she could feel it in his erratic thrusts and the way his cock twitched inside her. She needed to feel him come undone for her, to paint her walls white as he emptied his seed inside her. She needed him to mark her, to claim her as his own. They both knew a relationship between them was impossible, but she would always be his in secret. Her body would always miss him.

"Please, I need to feel you." She managed to say between moans and ragged breaths. "I need you to fill me up, please." She sounded pathetic at this point, but she didn't care. All she cared about was feeling Geralt's seed trickling down her thighs as she tried to catch her breath.

The witcher groaned, a cocky smile playing on his lips. One of his hands flew to the headboard of the bed, the wood creaking under his strong grip as he adjusted his position. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper —if that was even possible—, impaling her on his cock as she cried out in pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, leaving traces of red marks on his skin.

"You're desperate for it, aren't you?" he teased her arrogantly. "Don't worry, princess, I'm gonna shoot my seed so deep inside of you that you'll carry it for days. Is that what you want? You want me to mark you as mine? You want to feel me between your legs while you swear loyalty to your husband?"

"Yes! Fuck, Geralt, please... mark me, claim me as yours, please."

The witcher did not expect to find it so erotic to hear her admit her deepest desires, but he did. It awakened something inside him, a primal desire that took over his body. He became an animal, a fierce, possessive wolf that was desperate for some relief. After all, that was exactly what their relationship was, pure animal instinct, pure lust and desperation. An intense attraction they couldn't resist even when they knew how wrong it was.

He came with a loud grunt, emptying his load inside her warm, tight walls. She felt every drop of it, her cunt filled to the brim with his desire for her. The intensity of his orgasm triggered hers, her body trembling under Geralt's weight, her walls tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he had. His name fell from her lips as pleasure consumed her, a prayer begging him to stay with her. He knew it was impossible, but in that moment - mind clouded with pleasure as he felt her crumbling beneath him - he really considered it. He wanted to feel her body against his again, hear the sound of her voice as she moaned his name outside of his memories. He needed her.

But that was just a fantasy, the desire for the impossible. She was a princess who was soon to be married and he was a witcher who had nothing to do with the court and royal affairs. She was not his —even if her body was— and he was not hers. And that was the hard truth. So when he came to his senses he rose from his place on the bed, where he rested with her beside him. The princess watched him as he dressed, trying to ignore the strange feeling of emptiness that came over her at the thought that once he crossed the threshold of the door she would never see him again.

"Will I ever see you again?" She asked in a whisper, as if afraid of being heard. Geralt admired her naked figure on the bed as he contemplated his answer, liking the way the dim candlelight illuminated her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. As wrong as it was, he would really like to see her again, but the truth was he didn't know if it would happen. The future was uncertain, especially in his line of work, so to give her a straight answer would be to lie to her.

"Only time will tell."

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x reader #the witcher x reader #geralt x reader smut #the witcher #geralt of rivia #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia imagine #henry cavill

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ichorai · 5 months

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tourney favor ; aemond targaryen (m).

pairing ; aemond targaryen x wife!reader

synopsis ; it was rare for knights to ask married ladies for their favors, as it was often a way to win a lady's hand in the midst of courtship. but it wasn’t improper by any means. strange, perhaps, but not improper. you glanced back at aemond. he was studying you, single eye narrowed, jaw clenched. was he jealous?

wc ; 2.1k

themes ; smut, mild fluff, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; jealous aemond, unprotected sex, breeding kink and brief mentions of pregnancy/children, wall sex, foul language, mentions of violence/murder

a/n ; if this fic sounds familiar, i took some lines from my far-lengthier aemond fic, balance the scales :)

main masterlist.

A grand tourney was held in honor of Jahaerys and Jahaera’s eighth nameday.

You sat beside Helaena in the high platforms on the elongated arena, hands twisting in your lap. Tourneys usually bored you to no end—watching men hurt themselves over little else than theatrical show and bragging rights was not something you were very keen on. It felt like a waste of time to you, especially because you were already spoken for—you’d much rather be reading, or honing your needlework, or playing with the twins. To your other side was your husband, Aemond, looking equally disinterested in the event. You noticed his long fingers tapping impatiently against his knee, as if he were itching to leave. His older brother Aegon was nowhere to be seen, most likely somewhere in the bowels of the Street of Silk.

You couldn’t help but feel envious. How come the father of the children the realm was celebrating was off gallivanting through the city, probably sunken into his cups and his whores? He was free to fuck whoever and whenever he wanted. Whilst you had to sit for hours on end beside your beloved husband, with whom you wanted to do nothing more than clamber into his lap and kiss him until the two of you grew dizzy.

Perhaps a large part of your agitation was due to the fact that Aemond had sunken to his knees in your chambers only an hour before, his tongue spelling worship over your drenched core. And you’d been so close, ever so close to falling off the edge—

Until there came a knock on the door, and Criston Cole’s muffled voice echoed through the shut door. He had to urgently speak to Aemond before the tourney, apparently.

Something akin to a growl caught in his throat as your husband reluctantly drew away from you. You moaned lowly at the loss, sitting up at the edge of the four-poster bed as you watched him wipe your arousal from his chin.

“We’ll resume this tonight,” he had whispered into your flushed ears, before whisking off to speak to Ser Criston.

Seven fucking hells.

It took several moments for you to compose yourself, before you called in one of your handmaidens to help you dress for the tourney. Redo your hairstyle, too, because Aemond had certainly mussed it beyond salvation.

And now, as you fussed with your fingers in the stands, boredly clapping whenever the crowd was, it only came as an utter surprise when you heard your name called out. You sat up straighter, eyes falling from your hands to the riding grounds down below. It didn’t slip past your notice seeing Aemond tense, his fingers curling into a pale fist over his thigh.

A handsome knight donned in black-and-yellow armor stared up at you. You faintly recalled the patterned sigil emblazoned into the shield he was holding—he was of House Darklyn. He had taken off his helmet momentarily, lodged between his waist and his free arm. Gorgeous dark locks spilled over the nape of his neck, only slightly curled.

The olive green of his eyes gleamed boldly, full lips upturned into a charming smile. “Might I be honored with your favor, my Lady? I can certainly use the luck.”

Your gaze flickered over to his formidable opponent, a strong and muscular man, shrouded in white. His shield bore a red lion. House Reyne.

It was rare for knights to ask married ladies for their favors, as it was often a way to win a lady's hand in the midst of courtship. But it wasn’t improper by any means. Strange, perhaps, but not improper. You glanced back at Aemond. He was studying you, single eye narrowed, jaw clenched.

Was he jealous?

You could feel the muted arousal roar back to life in your lower abdomen.

“Of course, Ser,” you called back with a knowing smile in your husband’s direction. You grabbed a ring of woven flowers and tossed it down over the jousting lance. “Be careful.”

Off the Darklyn knight went with your favor swaying by the lance’s handle, the metal grating of his helmet pulled down over his grinning features. You weren’t even sure what his name was.

The joust began just as you sat back down beside Aemond—but you found yourself barely paying attention to what was unfolding, and rather kept your eyes trained on your husband.

“Rather improper of him to ask for your favor,” he commented snidely, voice lowered so only you could hear. “You’re my wife.”

“Perhaps you should be down there, then,” you replied lightly, offering him a cruel smile. You knew well just how little Aemond cared for all the glamor the tourneys offered. “Show them who I belong to.”

Expression hardening to stone, he suddenly gripped your arm with iron-strength, hauling you up out of your seat, despite your half-hearted protests. You wondered if the Darklyn knight would search for you once the tourney was over. You found yourself unsurprised that you couldn’t care less about him.

Especially not with Aemond leading you down the halls of the Keep, twisting several sharp turns before shoving your chamber’s entrance open. Just as quickly as you were yanked inside, the wooden door slammed shut behind you, and you were promptly shoved up against it.

His lips were angry over yours, claiming you, biting you, devouring you completely. You fell slack in his arms, one of your hands resting over his chest, almost as if you were debating between pushing him away or pulling him closer. He swallowed the noises of contentment that slipped from your throat.

“You just couldn’t wait,” he snarled, shoving you against the door harder until he was pressed flush over your body. Jealous Aemond was certainly a sight to behold. “My greedy little wife.”

You preened at his words, arching your back, desperate to reconnect your lips to his. He didn’t put up a fight, allowing you to fight for dominance, claw at his neck and chest in desperation as you kissed him as if he were the very air you needed to breathe.

Wasting no time, he reached down to yank the bottom of your dress upwards—cursing under his breath at all the damned layers you were wearing—and hurriedly shoved away your shift so he could reach your pulsing cunt.

You were drenched. Warm and wet and fuck, he couldn’t wait a moment longer—

Sensing this, you made quick work of his trousers, yanking them downwards before moving up to pop off his tunic’s buttons. A startled, pleasured cry—verging on a hysterical sob—tore from your lungs and rattled across the chambers when he suddenly thrusted two long fingers into you, his thumb working quick circles over your sensitive clit. You’d already been denied an orgasm once, and you found a litany of breathless pleas erupting from your lips, as if it were just second nature.

“Please, Aemond, please—” You choked on whatever else you had to say, eyes rolling back as your orgasm slammed into you far too soon for your liking. Heavy and all-consuming.

But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, more, you’d always want more of your husband.

“Aemond, please, I need you inside,” you croaked, letting out a sigh when he drew a few tender kisses to your forehead. A glimpse of the softer side of your husband, scarcely shown unless it was with you. You loved him like this, but you wanted—no, you needed—him to lose all abandon with you.

“If you won’t fuck me, I’ll ask the Darklyn knight,” you growled with a serrated tone.

Aemond drew away from you, violet eye ablaze. Was it fury or was it possessiveness written so plainly over his features? Perhaps both. “What did you say?” he whispered, a hand suddenly surging up to grip your jaw.

“I said,” you huffed, staring at him with a challenging quirk of your brows, “I’ll ask another man to fuck me. If my husband won’t do so, that is.”

Silence on Aemond was scarier than anything. You wished he would speak, or scream, or call you filthy names. But no, he… he was observing you. Calculating. Like a cat would a mouse.

Or a dragon would its kill.

With one fluid motion, he drew his length into his hand—long and hard and angrily weeping with beads of pearly precum. The other hand abruptly flipped you around with surprising strength, crowding you against the wall beside the door so your back faced him. You moaned out his name when he pushed your dress up over your hips and dragged his tip over your drenched core.

“Please,” you begged, bracing yourself against the wall and jutting your hips back. If you could hear yourself over the buzzing in your ears, you’d be absolutely mortified at how delirious you sounded.

In one quick motion, he sheathed himself into you. Your warm, pulsating cunt was gripping him like a vice, eliciting a shuddering groan from his lungs. You mirrored his reaction, squeezing your eyes shut and holding onto him for dear life as he began to pound into you with no restraint. The lewd noises ricocheting in the room made your cheeks heat up until your entire face felt like it had been set aflame. With each snap of his hips into yours, you found yourself crying his name like a mantra, his hands bruising over your waist, pulling you back into him.

You were blubbering incoherently, begging for more. You just about lost it when one of his hands disappeared from your waist—only to roll over your aching clit with quick circles. A sob broke past your lips and you clenched hard around his length, feeling every hot inch of him buried deep inside you. His pace staggered with the sudden shift and he groaned out a curse, followed by your name.

“Who did you want to fuck?” he bit out, slightly breathless, words dripping with venom. “What’s his name?”

“I—” You hiccupped a cry with a particularly loud thrust. “Oh, fuck, Aemond!”

“Right,” he hissed, bending forward to bite down on your strained neck. “I’m the only one who can fuck you like this. Not pretty boys in silly costumes—mmph—not daft knights who lose tourneys. Me.”

The last word was ground out when your cunt spasmed around his girth once more, and you wailed out his name as your orgasm rolled over you. It was a wonder nobody had barged in to see if there was someone being murdered.

“Perhaps I’d have to get you all round and swollen with my child. Show them who you belong to. Who fucked you this good. Would you like that, sweet wife?”

“Yes, yes, Aemond, I need—I need you to come inside. Please, I need you to stuff me full.”

You reached behind you to blindly grapple for his arm and he briefly shifted the angle and began pounding into you even harder. His cock hit your sweet spot just right, and you saw stars swimming over your vision.

A near animalistic noise tore through Aemond’s chest when you tightened around him one last time, your warm cunt fluttering around his cock. His rhythm faltered. What drove him over the edge was when he glanced down and saw the thick ring of your creamy arousal at the base of his cock. Gods, you were… beyond perfect.

With a staggered rasp of your name, he thrust into you thrice more before he spilled his seed deep in you, thick spurts of white coating your slick walls.

Heavy pants filled the room. You barely registered his lips kissing along your bare shoulder, where your dress had slipped in the midst of your heated frenzy.

Slow, he eased himself out of you. “You did so well for me,” he murmured against your skin, smoothing his hands over your waist. “Are you alright?”

“Mmh,” you hummed, because no words would come to you at the moment.

He laughed, a wonderfully rich sound, before gently urging you towards the bed.

“Get some rest, wife,” he told you, laying you onto the plush mattress and dipping down to kiss your forehead. He regarded you with raw adoration folded over his expression. Though, it was quick to melt into a thunderous one with his next sentence. “I have a certain knight to exchange words with.”

If you hadn’t been so high off your orgasms and exhausted with the new-found urge to sleep the whole night away, you would’ve realized that Aemond was likely going to commit manslaughter over something as trivial as a tourney favor. But you hadn’t thought about it much, not in your sex-addled haze, and promptly fell asleep with only the dream of silver-haired babes with wonderful purple eyes to accompany you.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd x reader

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sweet-honey-fruit · 8 months

Text

Going Feral

Their true forms take over, and they’re needy for you.

Pairs — Childe, Itto, Ei, Zhongli x afab!reader

Note: I know Childe’s isn’t exactly what I said would happen, but I liked the idea of being fucked by foul legacy so much that I plan on making that it’s on fanfic.

Warnings — Rough sex, degradation, praise, restraints, public sex (Childe) belly bulge (Itto and Childe), breeding kink (Itto), unfair power dynamic but it’s all consensual, rough fucking, monster fucking (?), inappropriate use of tail (Zhongli)

!Everything is consensual! 18+ MINORS DNI

Childe

The entirety of his massive body engulfed the fragility of yours. His cock was so, so much bigger, stretching you out to your fullest. His pace was relentless, pinning you down to the floor while his dick dragged along your slick walls. His sharpened claws tangled in your hair as he thrust deeper and deeper inside you. All of it was overwhelming in the most delicious way possible. The sound of skin slapping and your squelching noises filled your ears, the sound so erotic that it caused a puddle to drip below you. The grip on your waist from him was almost painful, but you were so far gone that you barely registered any pain at all. You just wanted more. More of him. He was all you needed, and you loved it. In this form, in the Golden House, right here and right now. You didn’t want anything else other than this.

“Please Childe, it’s too much…” Your words came out slurred and muffled with every breath, drunk off the pleasure the fullness provided. A deep rumbling purr vibrated in Foul Legacy’s chest. It sent a delicious chill down your spine, one that was a mix of fear and excitement. He pulled himself out of you and slammed back into you, harder, rougher. “If you’re going to act like a whore for dick you might as well learn to take it,” His voice reverberated through your body as he was flushed against yours. He practically lifted you off the ground with ease, his groans coming out as growls.

Your body was quivering beneath his own. Tears of bliss streamed down your face as you were turned into a blabbering mess. Broken moans of his name are all that are eligible and it filled him up with pride. Knowing that even in another form he was able to turn you into a desired-filled disaster. To turn you into Ana whimpering, helpless mess. His hand pressed down on the bulge in your stomach. The motion makes you feel all of him at once. You arched your back, gripping onto him the best you can. Your walls clenched around him as burning pleasure took over your body, so much so that you swore your vision turned white for a moment.

The sensation of your walls hugging his cock sent him over the edge. He pushes you back onto the ground and fucks into you faster, the overstimulation making you squirm. With one final thrust, his seed shot into you, dripping back down onto the floor. He leaned down, lifting the mask off his head just enough to give you a sweet kiss on your slightly parted lips. He smiled against them, a smile that you could read as mischievous even in your delirious state. Putting his mask back down, he slammed his cock back into you again. This time slower, savoring each movement.

Hot, hot, hot. It felt so overwhelmingly hot despite the cool, crisp air of Euthymia. There was an ungodly amount of hands on your flushed body. Not a single part of you is touching the ground below. There is a pair of hands gripping your wrists and ankles, forcing them apart to leave your bare body open and vulnerable. Hands were fondling your chest, brushing over your nipples that elicit even more erotic moans out of you that echoed throughout the sacred chamber. Her form floated just a few feet away, legs crossed and chin resting on the palm of her hand in mockery. Mockery of how vulnerable you are, completely under her influence.

Hands were gripping your thighs, needing the flesh so harshly that it was sure to leave behind bruises. Hands wrapped around your hips and forced you down onto the fingers that were pumping in and out of your sopping wet hole. All these hands yet not one of them belonged to the woman who appeared before you. Her eyes held a fierce intensity of lust, tempting you to look away from her, to close your eyes and fall into the pleasure that she undoubtedly controls. You made the mistake of looking away once, and that left you with a hand-shaped mark on the side of your face from one of her many hand puppets.

“This sight,” Her luring voice surrounds you, enticing you to bring your attention to her. Her hand drops, ghosting over her chest and down her torso. Your eyes follow her movement. A ragged breath slips past your lips when Ei finally uncrosses her legs, revealing her drenched hole. You can see the slickness on her inner thighs from the dim lighting of the realm. "Is truly something I wish to see for eternity."

Her finger slips between her folds, enticing a soft moan out of her. At this moment the hand puppet that was pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace has stopped completely. You whine in frustration, wanting more. More of the white-hot pleasure it was giving you.

"You'll be my puppet, won't you? Be my little plaything.." She slips in another finger, pumping in and out at a slow pace. The hand-puppet mimics her movements, in and out of your own. You lurch forward, a moan forced out of of you and leaving you breathless. Ei’s satisfied smile is prevalent, the squelching sound of her fucking her pussy sending you into a haze.

She sped up, her head tilting back and letting out a moan so divine you wanted to get on your knees and worship her then and there. You couldn’t stop your legs from quivering from the intensity of the sensations you were feeling. You felt as light as a feather, not able to think of anything other than Ei and what she was indirectly doing to you. Not able to think about anything other than how beautiful she looked when she plunged her fingers inside of her, her thumb circling her clit with such precision that it caused your clit to throb with need. No thought didn’t cross your mind that wasn’t related to how good she was making you feel. Your slick dripped onto the ground, so wet that was gliding down your thighs.

The god of eternity molded you into her puppet, which she can control however she wishes. If it meant leaving you shaking, begging for more with her fingers down your throat, soaked with her juices; then you didn’t mind one bit.

Itto

Itto’s horns were bigger, pointier than usual. His nails were razor-sharp, longer. They dug into the dips of your hips, locking you down tight on his face. Your own hands clung to his horns to maintain your balance. With each tug he receives from your iron grip, the more animalistic growls that are muffled by your pussy. He was lapping at your wetness like a starved dog.

“Stop! Too much- too much Itto-“ Your pleas are cut off by a pornographic moan when his overtly long tongue slips between your folds. He pulls you down closer when you try to back away from the overwhelming amount of white-hot pleasure coursing through your body. The way his tongue slips out of your aching hole to swirl around your clit left your back arching and your nails digging into his horns. Your grip only sent him into overdrive.

With a growl that was muffled by your thighs, he lifted you off of his face. You could only catch a glimpse of the gleam from your slick around his mouth before he turned you around and forced you onto your stomach. Your hands gripped the sheets in surprise, even more so when he lifted your hips.

“Too much, huh? Too much, too much.” He laughs, and it sounds borderline maniacal. A chill is shot down your spine at the sound, yet at the same time, it leaves your hole throbbing and aching for more. Begging to be fucked by this new side of him. “I’ll show you too much. I’ll leave my well-behaved whore feeling so good that you won’t even want to stop.”

You feel the tip of his cock press at your entrance. Your legs shook, not only from pleasure but from the fact of how big he felt. Bigger than usual. Itto leans his body over yours, leaving sloppy kisses up your back, leaving marks along your neck, before finally kissing you on the lips with so much force it knocked your head back a little.

“You’re not a whore- I’m just so-so pent up that I can’t think clearly-“

“Itto,” His name was a quiet whine, making him groan, “Shut up and fuck me already,” It didn’t matter how big he was, his unintentional teasing was leaving your walls to clench around nothing. Begging him to fill you up and make you into his fuck toy.

He places a delicate kiss on your shoulder. A sheering pain coursed through you when his fangs punctured the skin to leave a mark behind. It faded into a pleasure that made your eyes roll back, his tongue gliding over it to soothe the pain. Then, he shoved his cock into your body. It was so overly big that it left a noticeable bulge in your stomach.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. His only focus was on fucking you till you couldn’t walk, till you were screaming his name and so full of his cum that it dripped out of your hole. He slammed into you, and your mind immediately went to the clouds. The way his cock dragged along every inch of you had you drooling, hungry and greedy for more of him. His nails ran up your back, leaving goosebumps of anticipation behind.

“Gonna breed you so good..gonna make you mine. Be good for me and take it,” He slammed his cock into you again. You laid limp, letting him use you as he pleased. In turn, your moans filled his ears, only encouraging him to go harder.

Zhongli

As much as Zhongli hides and compresses the godhood within him, that doesn’t make his instincts go away. The dragon in him is still present, albeit with a dull ache in his chest. But during times like these, where someone is very obviously trying to flirt and take you home, the ache in his chest grows. And it feels piercing. And the only way to cure the painful feeling is to show exactly who you belong to. Who owns you. Who loves you unconditionally. Dragons are possessive, don’t you know that? So why did you test your limits and flirt back with the person right in front of his eyes?

“Please Zhongli, I was just trying to get a free drink-“your explanation is cut off by his hand pushing your head deeper into the sheets. His grip on your hair is strong, and you can feel his overly sharp claws lightly digging into your scalp. It hurt, but it made your pussy ache for more; more of him.

His body leans down, chest pressing against your back. You catch a glimpse of a faint glow of yellow, and a mix of fear and excitement course through your hypersensitive body. It’s been so long since he’s let out his true form. And he’s using it on you.

A growl emits from his throat, and it reverberates from his chest to your back. It was animalistic, and it elicited a whimper from you. His body weighed you down, it was so much bigger than yours, stronger, leaving you to feel vulnerable and at his mercy. He loved seeing you this way, under him where he was in control. It made the spark for you within him burn brighter.

A brush of something firm creeps up your inner thighs. You can’t tell what it was but it certainly couldn’t be his hands. Not when one hand is pressing your head down into the pillows and the other is wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay still. No, it wasn’t his hand. It was thicker, wider. And it teasingly slid between your soaked folds.

His lips ghosted over your jawline, traveling up to just the shell of your ear. You could hear his needy pants, the hand around your torso needs your flesh teasingly as the claws dig into your stomach deliciously.

“Do you think I care what your motive was?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine. So deep and dark, something so commanding that it made you stiffen up. You glance back, eyes widening when you catch a glimpse of yellow, slitted eyes; and the tail that was teasing your soaked hole.

“Tell me, my qingxin, since you are so desperate for cock, why must I give it to you, hm?” His tail thrusts inside of your hole, and you mewl over. Your moans are muffled by the pillow, yet they increase in pitch the deeper it goes. It hits your cervix, and you swear you saw stars. Drool pools under your head. He’s slow with his movements, pulling out so gradually, making you feel every detail of his tail dragging against your walls.

His hand in your hair lets go. You barely have a moment to let out a sigh of relief before it’s wrapped around your throat, forcing your body to sit up. Your knees press against the soft sheets, slightly damp from just how much you were dripping. His tail thrust in harder and faster. Moans and slick, slapping sounds echoed around the bedroom. His hand adds pressure, cutting off your noises and leaving you to only roll your eyes back when he hits the perfect spot within you.

“That’s it, fall apart,” He kisses down your neck, his fangs digging into the side of your neck, “Just like that…break for me, show me who owns every part of you.”

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some-bunniii · 15 days

Text

Lucifer saves you from a cult

・❥ You’re about to be sacrificed for a satanic ritual, until a handsome, charming stranger comes to your rescue.

~9.5k words

x: reader is g/n, no use of y/n. wanted to play around with the cult concept again, but this time much less angsty. had fun with this one, hope you enjoy!

warning: sexual themes, cult stuff

The first thing you remembered when you awoke, blind and dazed, was the thick, musty scent of damp earth.

The air tasted stagnant on your tongue, as you parted your lips to wet the cracked, delicate skin. Throat dry, quenched of thirst, and stomach growling softly, you lifted your cheek from the cold dirt.

Where were you? How did you get here?

The fabric against your eyes prevented you from recognizing anything in your surroundings, the only object visibly present was the warm, orange glow that peeked through the blindfold tied around your head. It flickered with life, a dancing light that you could only guess was a lamp of some kind.

Thin, plastic restraints kept your wrists bound tightly behind your back, dull pain radiating from where they dug into your skin.

Dull pain radiated from where they dug into your skin. For a few moments, you laid perfectly still, using your remaining senses to listen for anyone or anything in the vicinity. Still, you were rewarded with nothing and no clue of your whereabouts.

Slowly, you rolled onto your back and awkwardly shifted to sit on your knees. You turned your head, facing the dull light flickering softly behind the cloth against your eyes. What now? Head towards the light, or away from it?

Your breath quickened, heart pounding as the situation began to settle in your mind. Someone kidnapped you, bound you, and then left you here in the dark for whatever gruesome fate was coming. Unless this was some kind of weird surprise party pulled by a friend, there was no way whoever was near had good intentions.

Almost on cue, footsteps echoed somewhere far off to your right, closing in on your location. You tensed, holding in a breath as you shrunk to the ground. Then, a second set of footsteps entered the vicinity, closing in on your location.

They seemed to have arrived somewhere right in front of you, but were obscured by something, perhaps a wall as the footsteps halted.

“Hail Satan,” A low, masculine voice echoed into your ears.

“Hail Satan,” the other replied, as if in greeting, “Is the sacrifice ready?”

What did he say? Satan? Sacrifice?

“Yes,” the other hissed with delight, “Once we finish the preparations at the main chamber, we will deliver them cleansed and ready to the prophet.”

Were they talking about you?

“Let's hope this year turns out to be successful, we’ve already sacrificed the lamb already” the other grumbled, shifting beneath a large “Good job keeping an eye out all night, but Brother Erik has requested your presence. He is waiting for us near the goat pen.”

“Of course. The sleeping agent we used was highly potent, they shouldn’t awaken for another couple of hours,” the man replied, and you heard footsteps receding from the scene, the shuffling of gravel fading in the distance as you exhaled a breath of relief.

This was bad, really bad. You needed to get out of here, now.

Leaning forward, your forehead hit the ground as you dragged your face across the dirt. The blindfold was forcibly peeled off your eyes, and they flew open as soon as you rose back onto your knees. You blinked, turning your head to observe the strange scene, heart pounding.

Rough, stone walls encircled you, the small torch attached to the wall cast orange light across the room, revealing a row of large barrels and wooden boxes marked with strange symbols. You were in a cave, these strange men dragged you underground?

There didn’t seem to be anything to break your bindings, and the only way out was a small human-sized gap in the rocks that glowed softly with the same orange light as the torch nearby. Maybe, if you were careful enough, you’d be able to slip away undetected and find a way out.

Slowly you rose unsteadily to your feet, taking a final, deep breath as you took a step toward the cave's exit. There were definitely torches outside, and from what you could see the walls were still rocky. A tunnel? It would be difficult with your hands bound, but at least it would be lit and you could use the torches as a guide.

Right as you crossed the threshold, your body connected with another equally firm, but squishy being as they ran into you with surprised oof.

You froze for a moment, your brain kicking into survival mode and your body instinctively using a leg to shove the stranger backwards, before reeling away.

“Don’t come any closer!” You shouted, and the hooded figure jumped at your outburst, raising his hands towards you and shaking his head vigorously as you stumbled backward.

“Shhhhh!” He hissed, his yellow gaze practically glowing from underneath the dark hood as he advanced on you quickly, “They are going to hear us!”

Your back hit the wall, and you winced in pain as jutted rocks dug into your back. That was the least of your concerns though, as you opened your mouth to scream again right as the robed man reached you, before he lifted a hand to clamp around your mouth.

His palm was warm, hot to the touch even as they were planted firmly against your lips. His face was inches from yours, but in the barely lit room, it was just his usual-colored eyes that you could make out underneath the hood.

“Just keep quiet while I—”

You didn’t give your attacker time to get any closer, before you parted your lips and jerked your head harshly to the side. You chomped mercilessly down onto his skin, his fingers in between your teeth as you thrashed.

The hooded figure yelped, pulling his hand away from your face with furrowed brows as his gaze flicked from his hand to your angry figure.

“You bit me!” He cried, rubbing his fingers with a small frown as you rose to your feet, arms still bound behind your back as you glared at him with ferocity.

“And I’ll do it again!” You retorted, straightening your posture as you rose to full height.

“Quiet! I’m trying to help you!” He whispered, turning his head to check the open doorway before meeting your gaze again.

“Help me? Dressed like that?” You laughed, your eyes lowering to the upside-down cross tied around his neck and the pentagram sewn on the sleeves of his robe.

“I know, I know, it looks bad,” The stranger growled at himself, backing away closer to the torch to give you space, “But, if you turn around so I can get those bindings off you, I can prove I’m here to help.”

“You really expect me to turn my back to you?” You laughed in disbelief.

“If you don’t want to, I can just… leave,” He finally shrugged.

“Leave?”

“Yep, out that doorway right there,” he pointed behind him, and the glow from the torch nearby was beginning to reveal his features, and you could see the hint of a smile on his face.

Was he really being truthful? Fuck, it was a 50/50 shot. You bit your lip painfully, deep in thought. Finally, you sighed, facing the rock wall away from the stranger, your wrists exposed to him.

You felt the hairs on your forearms raise like static, before you felt its familiar, painful tiny shock against your wrists. You flinched just as the bindings snapped, slipping from your raw skin onto the ground beneath.

You gasped softly, freedom finally in your grasp as you lifted your hands to rub at the stinging marks rubbed into your skin.

He was closer, now, but not close enough to cut your restraints. That was odd, did you bite him that hard he backpedaled as soon as you were free?

“See? No harm done?” He smiled innocently at you, before he backed away to the cave’s entrance.

Slowly, you followed, taking closer and closer steps towards the figure, mind racing.

What if you bolted? Pretend to follow the man and make a mad dash for the exit as soon as the chance arose. You could outrun a couple of satanic-worshiping old geezers, couldn’t you?

Except, he promised to help you, and seeing as you took a nasty chomp at his hand and he was still trying to free you… maybe, sticking close to this guy wasn’t too bad of an idea.

As you neared the entrance, the stranger turned to you, and the torchlight finally lit up his face. You almost stopped dead with shock, as your eyes traced over his features.

His porcelain skin practically glowed in the dim environment, like starlight on fresh snow. You’ve never seen a man so white before, and never so gorgeous either. His supple, plump lips curved slightly at your reaction, a hint of amusement in those odd, yellow eyes that seemed to suck you in without resistance.

A few strands of sun-kissed hair stuck out from the hood of his robe, and they curled delicately against his forehead, splayed messily. Have you ever seen such blond locks either?

And, was he wearing makeup? Those rosy-red spots on his cheek looked like a bad application of blush, as they stuck out like twin targets from his pearlescent complexion. Even with those odd cheek spots, it only accentuated his ethereal, otherworldly aura.

“Are you okay?” Pretty Boy’s words broke you from your thoughts, and you stopped mindlessly rubbing at your wrists. You halted right in front of him, his small figure blocking the way as you met his gaze.

“Sorry?” You finally asked.

Slowly, he lifted a finger and reached it towards the painful, thin outline of the tight binds that had bound you for most of the evening.

“Does it hurt?” He whispered, his brows furrowed with an unreadable expression. Anger? Pity? You weren’t quite sure as you stood there frozen, his finger just about to brush against your skin.

You could practically feel the warmth radiating off his figure, a wave of serenity washed over you, and you made no move to pull away. Your savior didn’t make it very far before he hesitated pulling back his hand before exhaling a deep breath. He reached into his robe and extended a neatly folded twin outfit towards you, beckoning for you to take it.

“Here, put this on. It’ll keep your face hidden as we move.”

You wanted to open your mouth, ask him about his hesitancy, but instead you silently took the garment from his frame and slipped it on. The robe was scratchy, but you weren’t going to complain as you lifted the thick hood over your head and pulled it forward to settle right above your eyes.

“Perfect,” The stranger smiled reassuringly at you, before turning towards the doorway, “Now come on, let’s get going before they notice you’re gone.”

“Who are you?” The words left your lips as you stayed frozen in place, watching the man intensely as he halted in his tracks.

“Oh, right, let’s rewind here,” he laughed, pivoting on his heel to face you, bowing slightly, “My name is Lou, not short for anything, just Lou.”

Lou. That was a cute name.

“What about you?”

“Get me out of this hellhole, Lou, and I’ll give you my social security number,” you responded dryly, brushing past him to poke your head out of the gap of the cave's entryway.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” he quirked a brow, his lips curving into a playful smile, “I respect your determination to live.”

You turned your head slightly to shoot the handsome man a glare, before you strained your ears, listening for any of hints human activity.

The tunnels were dimly lit, save for the glow from the torches nailed to the sides of the tunnel. You could hear conversations in the distance, echoing against the tunnel's walls as they reached your ears. Lou stuck his head out next to you, glowing eyes squinting as he stared down the darkened pathways.

“I think we’re good, let's go,” He whispered, before slipping past you and into the tunnel. With one last, shaky breath, you followed Lou out into the cavernous hall.

“Why are we going toward the voices?” You questioned quietly, inching closer to him for comfort as the two of you strolled down the tunnel.

“Your prison is on the farthest side of the main cave’s entrance,” he replied, turning his head to meet your gaze, “We’ll have to cross through a couple of crowded rooms before we can get out of here, but don’t worry, I know how everything works around here. We’ll be fine.”

You didn’t reply, instead lifting your gaze towards the cave’s ceiling. Jagged, branching rocks hung like icicles above your head, glowing faintly with orange light from the torches below. How easily could these things break off and fall? Would they bring you a quicker death than at the hands of the cultists?

“The cave system goes way deeper than just these smaller tunnels, ” Lucifer continued as he kept pace beside you, “These guys basically hit the jackpot when their founder first discovered the place an odd hundred-something years ago, haven’t let go of it since.”

“They’ve been doing this for a while?” you whispered hoarsely.

How many people have been murdered inside these tunnels, forced to endure such pain and torture just to please some make-believe goat-man that frolics around in a pit of fire and death? The delusion was unmatched, and the inhumanness even more.

“Oh, yeah!” Lou nodded, recounting the memories of his past attendings, “It’s like Coachella, but for cultists. They gather from all over the place to worship beings of indescribable evils and partake in all different kinds of rituals. Much more than just the human sacrifices, like the–”

“–you’re telling me you come here, again and again, to witness these human sacrifices?” Your head snapped in Lou’s direction, an icy glare meeting his widening eyes as he clamped his mouth shut.

“Well, yes—but no!” Lou shook his head vigorously, taking a step backward as you strode forward, anger reignited in your gaze as you bared your teeth.

“How do I know you’re not going to kill me?” You continued to advance towards Lou, pointing an accusatory finger towards him.

“What?!” He sputtered.

“For all I know, you could be leading me to my death!” Your voice was shaky, the weight of the situation dawning on you with the realization everything here was real, not some crazy dream.

“B-but I saved you!” Lou pressed himself flush against the rock wall as you closed the distance, practically chest-to-chest with the man. He tensed at your proximity, breath hitched with wide eyes at your looming figure.

“So?” You growled, taking a finger and jabbing him in the chest, and his frown deepened, “This could be one final cruel, sick joke to bring my guard down before you tie me to a stake! Can’t slaughter the cattle when they're scared, right? Or else it poisons the meat!”

God, he was so good-looking up close. It distracted your verbal attack on Lou just for a moment as you felt the temptation to see how much better it would get if you ripped that stupid hood from his head.

It felt like some otherworldly power was pulling you to stare dumbly at his perfect features. As if he was some kind of siren beckoning you to take a closer look. If you did get any closer, however, you’d practically be lip-to-lip with him. Which, if you were being honest, didn’t sound like such a bad idea…

An invisible hand lifted to slap you hard across the face, before waggling a finger at your lack of self-respect. Why were you thinking about this?! You were about to die and the only thing on your mind was how good-looking this guy was!

“I know you’re scared,” Lou’s soft words broke the silence. You tensed, finger still mid-jab against his chest as he met your gaze.

“This must be a lot for you to take in,” he continued, taking a small step forward from the cavern wall, his brows furrowed in anguish, “But I promise, I don't come here to party with these sickos. I sneak in here to save the people that they kidnap, like you.”

Is that why those cultists were hoping the sacrificial ritual would go smoothly tonight? Had Lou been sabotaging their plans year after year?

The anger drained from your face, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You needed to pull yourself together, lest you wanted some cultist to find you having a mental breakdown or murdering someone out in the open like this.

“I’m here to help you. Please, just let me help.” Lou continued, and you met his gaze again.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, a gesture of peace, a physical promise that you would live to see morning. You looked at the much darker appendage with hesitation, your eyes flicking to Lou and then back to his hand.

“Trust me?” Lou pleaded, the tone in his voice sounded genuine, and kind as he stared at you with round, puppy-dog eyes. It was becoming increasingly hard to deny such a pretty face, and you sighed softly in defeat.

Slowly, you reach out and slip your fingers into his palm. His thumb lifted to grip your wrist softly, and you flinched slightly in pain. Lou withdrew his digit instantly, growling softly to himself at your reaction before his fingers wrapped around your thumb and forefinger in an awkward, clumsy handhold.

That familiar, soothing warmth from his touch was welcoming, as it seeped into your skin and sent you another dose of serenity. Your racing heart began to slow as Lou tugged you moving again.

Then, you heard voices growing louder at the end of the tunnel, near a large crack in the wall that seemed to be an entrance to another cave. Two shadows loomed around the small corner, and you held your breath, head lowered as they came into view. Lucifer squeezed your hand reassuringly, before two matching robed figures strolled past.

“Hail Satan,” the men greeted in unison.

“Hail Satan,” Lou replied in a deepened, masculine tone. Even in such a tense moment, the surprise at how dorky he sounded had you smiling underneath the hood.

The cultists passed by with no suspicions, and you sighed softly with relief, confidence slowly gaining. As long as you keep your head down, keep your identity concealed, the rest of the cultists won’t question a thing. Not to mention, if Lou was telling the truth about coming here for years, he knew how to best placate these freaks if the time came.

Soon, the two of you came upon a large opening, an entrance to another, much larger cave than the one you had been held in. You could see large flames flickering inside the room, voices reverberating against the rock. A few figures sat near the entryway, but slowly slipped inside the cave as you and Lou rounded the corner.

The voices grew louder, speaking in an ominous, strange tongue that made goosebumps erupt across your skin. Prayers of some kind as you saw bodies bent low to the ground, all facing something hidden behind the cavern’s walls.

Sweat was pooling in your palm, and you began to breathe heavily at the proximity of such a large group of robed men chanting softly inside. Their synchronized, baritone prayers rang in your ears, and your heart only quickened its pace.

An entire room full of these guys? This was a little much. You imagined just sneaking down the tunnel and being home free, not coming face to face with the entire cult. Could you really keep up a believable act that you were one of them?

Lou’s head twisted to watch you hyperventilate softly, your eyes zeroed in on the entryway as your thoughts raced. His brows furrowed, and his free hand began to dig inside his robe. After a few moments, his fingers wrapped around something small as he pulled his hand out and lifted his head to meet your gaze.

“Here, take this,” Lou extended an enclosed fist towards you, and your brows furrowed just as he revealed the object snug in his palm.

It was a yellow rubber ducky, like those old toys you used to play with in the bathtub. It stared at you with a permanent, frozen-beaked smile, innocent to the dark, sinister atmosphere circling the trio.

“... What is that?” You tilted your head, smiling slightly at the odd reveal.

“Just a little trinket of my creation,” Lou replied, holding it farther towards you, “I always bring this little guy along with me on trips up here, but I think you need it more than me right now.”

Your eyes widened slightly, gaze flicking from Lou’s large, shark-like smile–which was weird, but not the weirdest thing you’ve seen tonight–to the rubber duck in his hand.

Slowly, you reached forward, wrapping your fingers around the toy. Your skin softly brushed against Lou’s as you retracted your hand, before inspecting the little yellow duck.

Did he notice your anxiety about going inside? You were surprised Lou was being so caring, giving you something personal of his to help ease your nerves. Why would he bring this with him to places like this? Did he bring them for people like you, or him?

You squeezed your fingers around the duck’s little body, and as the air expelled from out of its mouth, it quacked softly, barely echoing against the rocks. You squeezed it again right as you inhaled, and released the duck when you exhaled. Slowly, you began to control your breathing and settle your racing heart. You pushed the negative thoughts out of your mind, before looking up to Lou.

“Did you say you made this?”

“Yes, It’s no big deal, though,” he shrugged bashfully, averting his gaze, “Just something I tweak on whenever I’m bored, nothing special.”

“Well, I think it's… cute.” You said slowly, brushing a thumb over the duck’s head.

“Really?” His lips curved upward, his eyes moving from your hand to meet your genuine gaze,

“Yes, and impressive. I could never do something like this, especially making the squeak sound so similar to a quack.” you nodded, matching his smile.

“It does more than just quack!” He said excitedly, a playful glint in his eye, “But first, we have to get out of here.”

You nodded, tucking the ducky underneath your sleeve as Lou turned toward the entryway. You followed him up the large crevice, before slipping inside.

Tall fires licked at the air on either side of the large cavern. Robed men sat in neat, organized lines, their bodies lowered to the ground, heads bowed submissively towards the large painting on the wall.

It depicted a white-furred goat, standing on two hooves, overlooking a sea of fire that expanded out into the distance. His horns were large, and they wrapped around his ears like a ram as his sinister red eyes stared into your soul.

Your fingers wrapped tighter around the rubber ducky inside your sleeve, and you tentatively squeezed it. It barely made an audible noise compared to the chorus of voices, and you began to use it as a fidget toy to calm your rising nerves.

You averted your gaze from the painting, head lowering slightly as you scooched between kneeling bodies along the back wall, hand still entwined with Lou’s as he slipped past the robed figures.

“Is that supposed to be Satan? The guy that rules Hell and everything?” You whispered to Lou, who stopped in his tracks to face you.

“Well, no. Satan doesn’t rule Hell, Lucifer does,” He sighed, shaking his head, “I mean, I understand these people choosing the ugly one to rule a place like that, but seriously, if you’re going to dedicate your entire life to worshiping a guy, make sure you’re at least getting the name right.”

‘I wonder what Lucifer looks like in comparison, but I'm sure anything would be better looking than that thing,’ you thought, glancing back at the demonic goat-man wall painting with a quirked brow.

“Satan would also make a terrible ruler,” Lou continued, turning away from you to continue sneaking through the worshippers, “It would be like putting a pyromaniac in charge of a fireworks facility, chaos ensues… and not the fun kind.”

You weren’t going to question why he seemed so matter-of-fact about that, as the two of you made it to the other side of the cavern, near another exit.

A small group of robbed men were passing by, and as you scooted over to give them room to pass by, one of them rammed into you, shoving you back by your shoulder to make room.

You were about to turn on your heel and snap at the man, before you felt Lou tug you faster through the remaining crowd.

“Watch out,” he teasingly called to the man behind you, but quiet enough for only you to hear, “They bite!”

You resisted the urge to elbow Lou in the side, and instead shot him a playful glare, trying to hide the upward curve of your lips. He only snickered softly, pulling you through the exit and out of that dreadful cave.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, right?” Lou turned to you, smiling softly as he released your hand.

That comforting warmth left your skin and something deep down whined for his touch again. You shook those thoughts away as you met his gaze, nodding in agreement.

“Yes, I thought they were going to be much more suspicious. Is that the last cave we have to go through?”

“We have like.. two more?” Lou said, partially to himself as he recalled the route, “It shouldn’t be much longer, don’t worry.”

You groaned internally, adjusting the hood around your head before following Lou down the tunnel. At one point, he had taken one of the torches from the wall, holding it in his hand as the two of you walked along the quiet path.

“Do you make anything else than these ducks?” You filled the silence, your thumb absentmindedly brushing against the plastic body of the toy in your sleeve.

“I used to,” Lou replied after a moment, his chipper tone dampening slightly, “More than just silly toys. I once created great things that benefited the entirety of humanity, until…”

“Until?” You prodded gently.

“Let's just say some things don’t turn out how we expect them to,” he replied somberly.

You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he was frowning underneath the hood. If you would have known that topic was a sour spot for him, you wouldn’t have brought it up. Lou’s face was so handsome with a smile, your brain was prodding for you to do something about it.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something at least. Words weren’t able to leave your lips before another large crack in the wall, followed by the sound of deep voices once more came into view.

The opening was glowing a bright orange, a much larger fire flickering inside the cavern as Lou slowed right before the entrance. Thunder erupted from the cave, and you jumped. Listening for a few moments longer, you realized the sound was emanating from large drums inside. They boomed in rhythm with the strange chorus reaching your ears from the entrance.

They were so loud the floor was vibrating softly beneath your feet, and you struggled to understand Lou when he turned to you, speaking something before slipping into the cave. Hastily, you followed him through the crevice, slipping past the jutting rocks that pulled against your garment.

“Wait!” You wrapped your fingers around the fabric of Lou’s robe, halting his movements rights you passed through the threshold.

As you stepped into the cavern, the heat from the large fire washed over you, and the rhythmic beat of drums pounded in your chest. The air was thick with the scent of burning wood, and something else indescribable, something primal that made the hair along your arms rise.

Before you was a scene straight out of a horror movie. Robed figures swayed and danced around the towering flames in the center of the cavern, their movements erratic yet somehow synchronized. Their robes, adorned with demonic symbols and intricate patterns, billowed around them as they moved.

There were so many cultists partaking in whatever weird, dancing ritual they were performing that the moving crowd stretched to the walls. There would be no slipping by this time, and you gulped softly at the sight.

Lou watched you silently, an unreadable expression on his pretty face as you turned to meet his gaze.

“The fastest way to get through here is to join them. We should hurry, I’m sure they’ve noticed you’re gone by now.”

Join them? As in, dance with these weirdos until you reach the other side of the cave?

You were about to laugh, pat Lou on the shoulder for the good joke, until you saw his face. It was dead serious, save for the way his lip was beginning to curve upwards into a playful smirk.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I can’t dance,” you shook your head with a humorless laugh, slowly backing towards the mouth of the chamber, “This is crazy, I’m not going out there.”

The chanting of baritone voices filled your ears as spinning, cloaked figures circled the large fire, completely entranced in their satanic waltz as Lucifer’s smirk widened.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he spoke confidently, wrapping gentle fingers around your hands as he tugged you forward, closer to the dancing circle.

For a moment you thought of fighting back and ripping your hands free from his grasp, bolting out of the cavernous room and far away from any robes for the rest of your life. Except, you probably had zero chance at getting out of here without Lou, the handsome man dead set on joining whatever kind of hellish scene was in front of you.

That playful glint in Lou’s eyes only made the adrenaline pump harder through your veins. Something deep inside of you was willing for you to follow the handsome stranger’s command, to prove to him that you weren’t a sack of potatoes he had to heft all the way to the exit.

“You’re going to regret this,” you frowned, your face as serious as possible as you finally relented to his tugging.

“Is that a promise?” Lou smiled mischievously, fingers gently intertwined with yours as he pulled you into the mass of robes.

As the pulsating rhythm of the chanting engulfed the chamber, Lucifer and you found yourselves swept into a whirlwind of movement. The flames leaped high, casting eerie shadows on the walls as the cloaked figures spun around the fire.

With a twinkle in his eyes, Lou guided you effortlessly through the dance, his movements fluid and graceful. Despite your initial reluctance, you couldn't help but be swept up in the energy of the moment, your body moving in sync with his.

It was as if whatever spell the rest of the dancers were under finally had you in its grasp, beckoning you to enjoy the sacred dance.

Around you, the cultists swirled and twirled, their voices rising in fervent devotion to their dark deity. You ignored them, your attention solely upon the pearlescent face that was only a few inches from your own, as he spun with you like two seniors soaking up their last high school dance during prom.

A loose rock resting on the dirt floor caused you to stumble on your feet, and you fell backward with a yelp. A firm hand caught you, fingers splayed across the middle of your back as you lifted your eyes to meet Lou’s handsome features.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” He winked, pulling you back onto your feet after a moment. You rolled your eyes playfully, before continuing your rhythmic swaying around the fire.

As you danced with Lou, laughter bubbled up from deep within you, a sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins. His hand in yours felt warm and reassuring, anchoring you to the moment as you lost yourself in the dance.

Your steps may have been clumsy and slow, but Lou didn’t take notice, his features alight with amusement, as he pulled you closer toward him.

“See? Not too bad.” He grinned, his chest bumping against yours as he spun you again, and that laughter finally left your lips with a shake of your head.

You lifted your head to stare into those golden orbs of his, a wordless siren’s song taking hold of you again as your eyes lowered to those soft, supple lips of his.

If the atmosphere around you wasn’t whispering your demise, you might have done something brazen like capture his lips in their own dance.

“Only because you’re doing most of the work,” you teased instead, a genuine smile gracing your features.

Lou must have noticed your lightning demeanor, because his eyes only softened and he matched your smile. One of his hands lowered to your waist, and this time you felt you were dancing with your prince charming across a ballroom as he slowed his pace to let you drink in the moment.

For a brief minute, all thoughts of danger and fear were forgotten, replaced by the pure joy of movement and companionship. As the fire crackled and the chants reached a crescendo, you and Lucifer danced on, united in a shared moment of defiance against the darkness that surrounded you.

Your eyes lifted to the other crevice in the cave, the two of you having successfully danced to the other side of the room, one step closer to making it out of here alive. You perked, joy overcoming you as you pulled Lou along out of the crowd and through the exit.

The much narrower tunnel was empty save for the two of you, as your hands hesitantly released each other. Lou walked over to the wall, a torch flickering softly attached to the jutting rocks as he lifted a hand and pulled it free from the tight clasp.

“Shall we continue?” He smiled, raising the torch slightly above his head to light the way as you caught up to join him.

Your pace was faster now, the night growing darker and the urgency growing every minute you stayed in this underground base of cultists.

The two of you crossed through a few winding tunnels, passing other caves on the route. Some were dark, quiet just like your prison had been, while others were filled with voices and laughter. Thankfully, there was only one cave left you’d need to get through before you could be home free.

All that was on your mind was to wrap yourself in the soft covers of your bed and hibernate the rest of the week away. After this, you could live without any human interaction for a couple of months, maybe forever. Except... The only company from tonight you wanted to hang on to was Lou’s.

Would it be weird if you asked for his number? Invited him for some coffee at a later time? No, that was weird. He was your savior, not some Tinder match waiting for the first date.

These cheek-flushing thoughts kept you busy for the next few minutes, as Lou guided you through the rocky maze. He was quiet, his eyes darting to every cave opening and corner, his ears straining for any footsteps or lone wanderer.

The silence between the two of you was peaceful, giving you time to think about recent events.

“Why do they want to sacrifice me?” You said after a few moments.

“It’s pretty simple, actually,” Lou started, scratching his chin, “First, they sacrifice a newborn lamb, which is supposed to create a portal from Hell to the living world, so that a demonic spirit can pass through. But, it's the human sacrifice that gives said demonic spirit their powers, enough for them to grant whatever the summoner wants.”

“Have you ever seen them actually summon the Devil?” You tilted your head curiously.

“..No,” Lou responded slowly, as if he was planning his next words carefully, “But, I’m sure if the exceptionally charming figure were to be around here somewhere, he wouldn't reveal himself until necessary”

“Doesn’t the bible say he was God’s prettiest angel? Unless Hell turned him into some kind of monster, he’s probably still fairly good-looking, especially since he convinced all those other angels to fall with him.”

“Couldn’t be any better than what’s right in front of you, eh?” Lou turned, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You only laughed softly, shaking your head at his antics. You weren’t sure how Lou would compare to the real deal, but you had an idea of who you’d choose as the winner in such a competition.

A few more minutes, and the two of you came upon a tunnel that split off into two different directions. Both seemed identical, and even Lou seemed to be having trouble figuring out the next steps.

He stood there, eyes flicking from one path to the next, as he bit his nail in thought.

“Are you lost?” you finally questioned, crossing your arms as he pivoted to face you.

“Me? Ha! No,” He chuckled nervously, lifting his hood slightly to rake back his hair.

The small glimpse of those shiny, silky strands had you wishing these cultists chose something more revealing as an outfit choice.

“Okay… so which way?”

“I—um… let’s see. I think we go… right, yeah! That’s it, we go right.” Lou nodded his head, confidence regaining as he turned toward the right branching route.

You quirked an eyebrow but made no comment as you followed him down the path. A few more cultists passed by, but they didn’t pay any mind to the two of you as you continued down the tunnel.

It wasn’t long before you rounded the corner, and the final cave’s entrance loomed ahead. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you practically skipped to the large opening, giddy with joy.

Lou took place in front of you again, his back brushing against the jutting rocks as he slipped through the gaping crevice, strange noises echoing from the other side.

“Alright, this is the last one, right through here—”

Lou stopped dead in front of you, his mouth dropping in surprise at the scene before him. You slid through beside him, lifting a brow at his strange demeanor before turning your head to the strange noises in front, before your mouth dropped as well.

Inside the much smaller cave, was what seemed to be a small crowd of… exposed individuals. They stood and bent around the room, encircling a pile of naked bodies.

At first, you thought they were dead, until you saw a woman lift her head from the mass, eyes drunk with pleasure and a dopey smile on her features.

Oh… my… god.

Moans erupted, louder now, as you watched a naked man, ass exposed for all to see, kneel in front of a similarly undressed man, his mouth moving forward to clasp around the other man’s….

Your hand shot up to your mouth, and you swallowed down the bile building in your throat.

These guys were having orgies, too?!

“Wrong tunnel…” Lou finally spoke, eyes wide at the explicit scene as you turned away with a gag.

“I’m guessing this is one of the fun little activities you like to join sometimes?” You grumbled, pulling the hood completely over your eyes, hiding from the moaning mass.

The sounds emanating from inside the room were pleasurable, joyous, and everything a nymphomaniac could dream of.

“It’s gotten bigger since last time,” you heard Lou laugh awkwardly, rubbing his neck as he turned to you with a sheepish smile.

“Maybe, we should turn back. Go down that other tunnel?” You hoarsely pleaded.

“The cave's main entrance is right on the other side, we can't turn back now.” He whined, gripping your shoulder and spinning you to face him.

“I am not partaking in this!” You growled, your eyes glancing at all the exposed skin before squeezing them shut with another gag.

“I’m not asking you to!” Lou shot back defensively, “But, we just need to sneak through here, and you’re free!”

Freedom. You were almost there, almost home. A bunch of naked strangers weren’t going to stop you from making it out of here alive.

“Fine,” you relented, “But, you go first.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Lou replied sarcastically with a huff, before he turned, straightened his shoulders, and stepped further into the cave.

Before he could make it any farther, your hand wrapped clumsily around his as you yanked the hood further over your eyes and followed him in.

You steeled yourself, tense as the view directly at the ground gave you a little peek into what was going on around you.

Bodies rolling together, in all different positions, some you didn’t even know existed as you bumped into naked man after naked woman.

“Nothing like debauchery to proclaim your love to the Devil,” you grumbled internally as you stepped over someone’s bare foot that was tangled with another.

“Ah, pardon me… just gonna squeeze through here,” Lou said, as he pushed past a pair of strangers practically eating each other’s faces.

You were halfway through the cavern, before you felt sweaty fingers wrap around your ankle.

Your head snapped to a very beautiful woman, a placated smile on her face as she stared up at you.

“A pretty face like yours deserves some love, why don’t you come and join me?” She sent you a sultry grin, and your frown deepened.

“No thanks, I'm good…” You started, shaking her hand off your ankle.

You barely took another step before a second pair of hands brushed against your other ankle, a large hand grazing up your skin and underneath your robe.

“What’s the rush?” The strange man called to you, his hand sliding farther up your robe.

“Hey, get off!” Lou growled warningly, before protectively pushing you behind him as he ripped the man’s fingers from your leg.

The stranger only held up his hands in surrender, before slinking back into the naked mass. Lou nudged you to get moving again, as you listened.

Then, two identical women, twins you assumed, blocked your path. Their large breasts bounced against their chest as they strolled forward, large grins on their faces.

“A new face!” One of them gasped with glee, “Finally, things won’t be so boring around here.”

“Umm…” you started, until the second woman cut you off with a laugh.

“You’ll need to undress first, honey. That’s where the real fun starts.” The lady licked her lips, eyeing your figure hungrily.

“Woah!” Lou cut in, pulling you closer to him, “Sorry, ladies, but we’re just passing through.”

“Is that so?” One asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That’s right,” he responded, his tone serious as he tugged you along, and you stepped around the two naked individuals, your eyes set on the cave’s exit only a few more meters away.

Again, you felt hands on your robe as you turned to see one of the women trying to get a peek underneath. You wrapped your fingers around the fabric and harshly pulled it from their grasp, sidling closer to Lou as the two of you zigzagged through.

Your breathing was becoming heavy, as panic set in with all the sweaty, disgusting hands practically groping you, tugging at your robe to remove it.

If Lou lost his grip on you, would you be dragged into the mass with no way of escape? This was never how you imagined you were going to greet death.

Lou turned to meet your gaze, and he must have felt the way your hands began to shake as he growled again, pushing past you to kick at another man’s grip on your garment.

“I said get back!” He boomed, and you winced slightly at the authority in his voice. It was strong, and it had you wanting to submit to him instantly, like some kind of other-worldly power.

The others around you also lowered themselves slightly at his tone, but soon they were even reaching towards Lou, who was practically beating them off with bare hands as the two of you backed away.

“Okay, we’re done here,” Lou huffed beside you, before you felt strong hands reaching underneath you and hoisting you into the air bridal-style.

One hand went to hold you firmly underneath your back, while the other wrapped around the back of your knees, and your eyes widened.

Lifting your head, you met Lou’s gaze who smiled reassuringly at you, as he began to practically hop across the cultist’s backs to make it to the other side.

You didn’t mind being carried around for the rest of the escape, especially by such a handsome face. Being so close again, you could smell Lou’s scent against his chest.

Apples and the faint scent of cinnamon. Your nerves began to settle instantly as you deeply inhaled the scent, pulling the hood over your eyes again to shield your poor mind from the rest of the grizzly sight.

You felt Lou take a couple more steps on solid ground, and the brushing off rocks against your legs as he slipped through the threshold and out of the cave.

He took a few more steps, and the orange glow from the torches faded, and fresh air hit your neck.

“Phew, looks like we made it out in one piece!” you heard Lou exclaim, and you perked from his hold.

Your head lifted, and your eyes met moonlight. Without a second thought, you scrambled out of Lou’s grip as he hastily tried to set you down beside him. You ripped that itchy hood off your head, that cool breeze brushing against your cheeks as you took a deep, refreshing breath.

You were outside, hidden amongst the shadows a few feet away near the small opening in the ground that held sinister, demonic secrets.

You extended your arms, taking in the full moon’s light as it basked you in a pale glow.

Lou watched you, smiling softly as you greeted the familiar sights of towering pine trees, the overgrown grass, and the distant calls of the owls and other nightly sounds.

The sounds of freedom, of safety, of home, sweet home.

“Congratulations,” Lou strolled up to you, and you turned to face him with a large smile, “You made it out alive, with barely a scratch on you!”

“I almost didn’t with that last stretch,” you laughed, stepping closer to him, “Thank you, for saving me from those… people.”

“I’d never let anything happen to you under my watch,” He responded, nudging you with his elbow, “They were just all enamored by your face, it’s hard to think straight staring into it for so long.”

Your cheeks heated at his compliment, and even Lou seemed surprised by his own words as he averted his gaze, a tint of red mixing with that porcelain complexion.

“So… this is it? You’re going home now?” You asked softly, desperate that the answer wouldn’t be what you expected.

“Yeah… it’s about time I head out,” Lou nodded slowly, trying to do everything but meet your eyes as he fiddled with his robe’s sleeves.

Your heart sank a little, your lips curving into a frown at the realization that this was goodbye.

This stranger, who wasn’t exactly a stranger anymore, lept into the dragon’s lair to pull you out and guide you to safety. You had never met anyone selfless like that, nor had you met anyone so good-looking.

Lou was like your… guardian angel. An ethereal figure who appeared during your darkest moments to lift you, physically and mentally, up from the depths. And now, he was leaving you to flap those wings and disappear into the night.

‘Please stay,’ you wished, as he finally turned his head to meet your gaze. Could he see the desperation behind your eyes?

You weren’t sure, as Lou stood silently for a few moments, before he lifted his hands and pulled the hood down from his head.

You held in a gasp, the way those blonde strands curled messily around his face, as they practically shimmered in the moonlight. He was drop-dead gorgeous now, and you felt your inner thighs beginning to heat against your will.

Holy moly… could this guy get any hotter?

Lou watched you for a moment, before his brows furrowed, lips pursed slightly in hesitation as if he was fighting the urge to say more.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ you wanted to tease, give the handsome, snow-skinned man a taste of what you could offer if he snuck around just a teensy bit longer.

The words never left your lips though, divulging into another missed opportunity that you’ll most definitely regret later when you were trying to sleep this traumatic night away.

Lou’s smile faltered for a moment, before they curved back to that charming, heart-fluttering grin.

“Well, looks like you better get going,” he sighed, “Even though tonight was pretty crazy, I enjoyed spending it with you.”

“I could say the same thing. But… how do I get home?” You frowned.

Lou lifted a hand to point somewhere behind you, and you turned your head to follow his finger. Off into the distance, strobes of multicolored lights lit up the city only a mile or so down the dusty path before you.

Your eyes widened at the familiar, towering buildings that dotted the cityscape. The neighborhood you turned down every afternoon to go home every evening practically screaming at you from down the mountain.

“Wait, we’re this close to my house? That’s crazy, I though—”

The words died in your throat, when you turned to find the spot before you empty. No hint that there was even a man beside you at one point, as the grass swayed softly around you, and the breeze tickled the hair on your skin.

Where did he go so fast? You twisted your head, trying to find a glimpse of the pale figure, to no avail.

You were left alone, with Lou nowhere in sight. Your fingers tightened around the rubber duck in your pocket soothingly as your heart sank even further.

Slowly, using the moon to light your path, you turned away from the spot Lou had vanished from, and began to trek down the dirt path.

Finally, you were going home. Although, you weren’t sure whether you’d be able to forget this night any longer, not with that dashing face at the forefront of your mind.

It had been exactly one year since you were kidnapped and taken to that hellish cave. The events replayed in your mind as you entered the large cave opening underground, surrounded by hooded figures that brushed past you as they crowded around a large stone table.

You had kept the robe Lou had given you, washed it a hundred times, before hiding it deep within your closet, never to see the light of day.

Until tonight. When you had risen from your bed, brows furrowed, mind set on one, idiotic plan of action.

You were going to go back. Back to those twisting tunnels, the smell of damp earth mingled with sinister intentions, and the hypnotic chanting of prayers.

And, back to that handsome face.

You didn’t remember when you had become dead set on going back, part of your mind begging you to turn on your heel and leave as you joined the large gathering inside the cavern.

The first ritual of the night was the sacrificial lamb. It cried out helplessly, bound on top of the stone table, surrounded by what seemed to be the leaders of the cult.

Their robes were much more fashionable, tinted with gold as one man in the center raised a large knife, chanting an unknown tongue as the rest of the crowd joined in.

“Satan!” One of the leaders bellowed, “Take this offering as a token of our devotion, and rise to join us from the depths of Hell!”

You lowered your head, averting your gaze at the painful bleating of the lamb as metal met soft skin, the knife digging deep until it twisted the little creature’s heart open from inside its chest.

The small animal’s cries died as blood seeped onto the stone table, a dark red river that flowed across its smooth surface before cascading onto the dirt floor beneath.

As the cultists around you sang praise and talked amongst themselves, you slowly backed away, pushing through to the back of the crowd.

“Dale, good to see ‘ya! How are the kids?” You heard one merrily ask to another.

When you exited the mass of robes, you inhaled deeply, settling your nerves as you twisted your head across the room.

Since it was the beginning of the night, the cultists were busy catching up with each other. They chatted away as if they were discussing the weather, instead of their next sacrifice.

Sneaking along the wall, you slipped out of sight and towards one end of the room, multiple paths branching out into dimly lit tunnels.

You stopped, craning your neck to try and find anything to gauge your memory.

This tunnel seemed familiar… was this the way back to your prison? If Lou was right, and they did this every year, then there would be some new, terrified face waiting for death somewhere around here.

You shook your head. No, it must be the tunnel on the other side of the room. The stalactites on the cave’s ceiling were much longer than the ones you had remembered from last year.

Turning, you took a step forward to check out the other route. Right as you twisted your head, you ran straight into another cultist, and you stumbled back with an oomph at the force.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” you growled, as you looked down to adjust your robe.

“Woah! Sorry about that, just got lost in my thoughts,” the familiar, male voice responded, and your eyes widened with shock.

You didn’t say anything, instead, you lifted your head, frozen in place as the pale figure brushed dirt from his chest as he met your gaze.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just heading to the bathroo—”

Lou stopped, his mouth agape, as your familiar features dawned on him.

“It’s you!” his eyes lit up instantly, a soft smile dancing across his lips as he skimmed down your figure, covered with the same robe he had given you exactly one year ago.

Oh, how you missed those pretty eyes of his, and the cute red spots framing his lips.

“What are you doing here?” He looked at you funny, as if you were crazy for coming all the way back here.

Which you were.

“You forgot to say goodbye, last time we spoke,” was your reply, as you tilted your head at the man.

“Oh… right. I’m sorry, goodbyes are just not my kind of thing. I wasn’t trying to be rude! I just thought you would be better off if…” he stumbled over his apology, as if you’d turn around and leave forever if he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse.

Your smile only widened, and Lou’s frown dissolved as you stepped closer to him.

“Ready to go save some poor, wayward soul?” You whispered, extending a closed fist towards that handsome, pearlescent face.

You opened your hand, revealing that familiar, yellow rubber duck that smiled innocently at Lou.

He reached a hand forward, fingers reaching towards the toy in your palm. Instead of taking it from you, he curled your fingers back up, closing your hand into a fist once more.

“I think whoever we meet will need it more than me,” Lou smiled at you, eyes soft as he drank in your presence.

“Let’s not keep them waiting, hm?” You shot him a grin, reaching your other hand forward to entwine with his, before pulling him away from the crowd.

Lou only chuckled, keeping pace as the two of you sneaked down the tunnel, towards that familiar, sinister prison you had called home only a year ago.

You were praying the dance lessons you had taken during the year would impress your new handsome, blonde, partner in crime later tonight.

If not, there was always next year.

y’know i keep saying “this next fic is gonna be short” but it’s obvious my brain doesn’t know wtf that means 😭 like i’ve literally tried to sit down and right plain ol’ headcanons before but i just don’t have a bone in my body for that kind of stuff lmao

but i just thought the idea of lucifer getting summoned to commit evil acts, to then just do the complete opposite and save people is funny af bc my boy is not cool with straight up murder like that.

let me know your thoughts! have a wonderful day 🦢

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 14 days

Note

i saw your prompt list and was hoping for number 6 with Aegon <3

‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’

Request: Aegon married Rhaenyra's daughter. When the king dies, Alicent lock her in the dungeons so she won't go to her mother and ruin the coronation. Aegon ask where his wife is and get you out himself. Tells the guard that his wife is not to be made prisoner

—

You always knew Alicent had madness running through her blood, but you never thought she would have you taken to the dungeons and imprisoned.

After dressing in your day dress, you were walking down the corridors, looking for Halaena when you heard voices coming from the small council chamber talking about sending men to Dragonstone to kill your mother and Daemon. Before you could get to your bed chamber and write her a message to send by crow, one of the guards saw you and brought you to the dungeons.

You tried to scream for help, but the sounds were killed by the stone walls. So you sank to the floor and curled on yourself, praying to the gods that someone would come get you out. Someone must have noticed your absence.

At his return from the dragonpit, Aegon walked into your chambers and called to you. He assumed you were with his sister, so he went to Halaena’s chambers, but she told him she had not seen you. On his way back from his sister’s chambers, Aegon heard the servants whispering about ‘the blacks’ daughter’ and stopped them.

With fury in his eyes, the prince stormed down to the dungeons. He didn’t have his sword on him — only Aemond wore it on the daily —, but he had his dagger. Whoever would try to oppose freeing you will end their day bleeding out. Aegon was not afraid of a fight.

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls and the torches flickered as he passed. As he reached the entrance to the dungeons, Aegon clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight with determination. Without surprise, two guards were stationed at the entrance. They moved to block the way when the prince approached.

‘’We cannot let you go past, my prince. Orders of the Queen,’’ one of them said.

‘’The King’s dead, which no longer makes her Queen. And as the rightful heir to the throne, it is my command you obey.’’ Aegon tried to go past them, but the other guard pulled out his sword. ‘’I could have you removed from the kingsguard for pointing your sword at your future King.’’ His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he stared the defiant guards.

The threat hung heavy in the air, a silent warning of the consequences should they continue to defy him. After a tense moment, the guard who had brandished his sword reluctantly stepped aside.

‘’My wife is not to be made a prisoner,’’ Aegon declared, his voice ringing with authority, holding his dagger at the guard’s throat.

The guard gulped. ‘’Yes, my Prince.’’

Aegon walked past them, wondering how his own mother could do this. A part of him was not surprised, though. Her determination often goes too far.

Finally, he reached the row of cells. All were empty, except one. His heart was pounding in his chest as he saw you sitting with your knees pulled to your chest on the cold stone floor. He said your name and you looked up, tears welling up in your eyes as you stood and reached out to him. You knew he would come for you.

‘’Aegon!’’ Your voice held relief.

He grabbed your hand through the bars, cold from being down here, holding it. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ Aegon reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, his touch a tender reassurance in the midst of chaos.

Using the keys he stole from the guards, Aegon unlocked the door, a harsh creaking sound echoing in the silence of the dungeon when it opened. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let you go.

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, stepping back to look at you.

You nodded. You were cold, and very thirsty, but not hurt. ‘’I heard your mother and her father speaking to the Lord Commander. They sent men to murder my mother,’’ you said, a tear slipping down your face. ‘’I was sent here so I wouldn’t write to her and risk ruining your coronation. I need to get to the dragonpit. I have to go to Dragonstone and save my mother.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #idk if i like this one

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brain-rot-central · 2 months

Text

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal

A/N: This is a working title. I reserve the right to change it going forward, lol. This is also my first AA fic! Can't believe it took me this long. Also feel free to note any other tags I may have missed. I'll add them as I go.

Rating: E Word count: 5.1k Pairing: Ascended Astarion/Fem!Tav Warnings: 18+, post-canon, PiV sex, creampie, angst, stalking behavior, obsessiveness, possessiveness, manipulative behavior (overall A's not really the greatest in this), use of derogatory language (though not at anyone specifically), messy break-up, depictions of gore, break-up (maybe make-up?) sex

Summary: Astarion has performed the Rite, becoming someone unrecognizable. Tav leaves him after settling their business with the Netherbrain, refusing his proposition to become his consort. She uses these last 6 months to heal her broken heart, mourning all they were and what they could have been. Hopefully all her hard work has paid off, because he's decided he wants her back and drops in for a visit.

♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

“It's awfully dangerous for such delectable morsels to leave their windows open this time of night.”

The whimsical voice comes from behind. With it, a rush of cold air sweeps through the quaint upstairs bedroom. Curtains lining the double panes of the front windows dance as the breeze blows in. Papers on the dresser scatter about the floor.

A young woman dressed in a sheer linen nightgown sits at her vanity, combing through her long red hair, when she freezes.

A familiar scent dances beneath her olfactory nerves - heady, rich, citrus. She breathes deeply, the warm spice of the cologne sweeping through her. Waves of heat pulse throughout her body as her ears pick up the sound of footsteps drawing closer.

With a sigh, the woman closes her eyes as the assailant reaches her position, their footsteps coming to a halt behind her.

It's him, she realizes. She’s never been more sure of anything else in her life.

Many months have passed since their last meeting. Passion burned as hot as an Infernal forge on that night. Promises of love, of pleasure, of power poured freely from their lips as their bodies intertwined. At that moment, she was prepared to give him everything - her life, her freedom, her body, soul.

She would have, had she not come to realize it was all an elaborate farce.

As she cracks open her eyes, daring to look up, the woman catches his reflection in the vanity mirror. With an audible gasp, it quickly dawns on her that this is the first time she’s seeing his face reflected in a glass pane.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, her chest suddenly heaving.

It is him.

And by the Gods, he's even more devastatingly handsome than she remembers.

“You never know what sort of monsters are out lurking the streets, hm?” he purrs, bringing his face close to her ear.

Assaulted once more by the warm spice of his cologne, her head spins.

“Astarion,” the woman whispers, nearly breathless. “What are you doing here?”

Craning his head, Astarion dips down into the nape of her neck, inhaling deeply. Her pulse quickens as he draws near, heart hammering away in her ribcage. His lips curl, fangs gleaming in the faint candlelight illuminating the room as his tongue sweeps over his teeth.

“I needn't an invitation to go where I please now, pet,” he pants against her neck.

A cold shudder shoots down her spine.

There was a time when her body would come alight from his many terms of endearment.

Darling, dear, sweet, pet, love.

Love.

“Nothing special, of course. You're only the first person I truly care for.”

His words echo in the far recesses of her mind. The words of her companion and partner, her lover… of a man who no longer exists.

That night in the ritual chamber, he changed.

The sound of the staff hitting the stone floor reverberates off ancient walls. Cazador and his spawn playing their parts, bound together in blood by the Rite. Astarion, levitating at the center, eyes burning red as an aura of blood envelops him. He's chanting the words - the Infernal seance that was once meant to be his end.

Her tongue lay heavy in her mouth. Words fly across her mind; desperate pleas begging him to reconsider, to stop this. None ever make it past her lips.

Suddenly, the spawn pop. One after the other.

Pop, pop, pop.

Astarion laughs, loud and boisterous, relishing the new found power that comes with each death.

Finally comes Cazador's turn.

He screams - a true blood-curdling scream. The type you hear moments before a person knows death has come, all too late. His voice carries on as she stands in the chamber, helplessly watching Cazador succumb to the ritual. He bursts at the seams into a pile of pulverized matter, dripping onto the floor below, completely unrecognizable.

Then suddenly, the room is engulfed by a haunting silence.

The Ascension… is complete.

The aura around Astarion fades and he drops down onto the platform below his feet. He remains kneeling for a moment. The sound of his breathing is all that fills the chamber, companions too stunned to speak.

He rises, slowly turning to face their leader. Looking upon his face, she sees the horrible truth lay bare before her.

Her lover is no more.

She's mourned him, the promise of them, ever since that night. Cried tears until her head throbbed and her face swelled, cried until nothing but sleep could soothe the ache in her heart.

And here he stands behind her, a scowl littering his visage as their eyes meet yet again in the mirror.

Her heart pounds in her throat, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. She swallows, asking, “Why did you come here, Astarion?”

Astarion pulls himself back, taking a few paces away from the woman. Folding his arms over his chest, he replies, “My darling Tav, I've come to take you home.”

“Home? I am home,” insists Tav. Turning her body, still seated in her chair, she scans him over.

Moonlit curls sweep elegantly across his forehead, framing his face. Ruby gems glint in the dim light of the room. He's wearing a black and silver doublet, blood-red dragons delicately embroidered on the lapel. Every bit elegant and refined; elite.

Astarion's face softens. He draws closer again, Tav’s breath hitching as his hand cups her chin. Tilting her face up toward his, he states, “I've given you more than enough freedom.” He cranes his head, bringing his lips a breath above her own as he whispers, “Don't you think?”

The velvet grace of his voice makes her dizzy. Tav realizes she feels heat radiating off his skin as their faces draw closer in proximity; a stark contrast to his usual aura. Her face burns - a fire that quickly spreads down into her belly. Tav tries to speak but Astarion closes the distance, lips capturing hers in a delicate embrace. His kiss is soft, alluring, unhurried.

Gentle, she thinks to herself. He's being so gentle.

“Astarion-” she protests, logic returning to her as she breaks the kiss. Tav scans his face, drawing her head back. Heavy lids fall over his eyes as they transfix upon her lips. He’s hungry, in more ways than one.

She knows that look. It's the very same he'd give her night after night in his tent, when all he wished was to share his body with her. Instead, they'd find other ways to partake in the ecstacy of one another until they were left breathless and panting.

But that was long ago.

Astarion's tongue darts out to lick over his lips as he says, “A lord is nothing without his dearest consort.” He moves to kiss her again, but Tav quickly ducks out of reach. She stands, hands clenched in tight fists.

“No,” she insists, locking eyes with him. She furrows her brow. “I will not be made into your personal plaything!”

A chuckle rumbles from his chest. Astarion tilts his head, a smirk forming on his face. “‘Plaything?’” he reiterates. “Do you believe I think that little of you?” Astarion brushes his knuckles over Tav’s cheek. “My darling treasure,” he begins, “I have many playthings, though none are quite like you.”

Tav’s pupils blow wide.

Astarion means to make her jealous with talk of other lovers. He means to fill her mind with images of him making love to unknown beings. To make her think of him finding pleasure in others who are not her.

She will not rise to it.

“Your chosen harlots aren’t enough?” Tav sneers. “I thought Lord Astarion Ancunín had everything he desired?”

With a scoff, Astarion replies, “You don't get it, do you?” A twinge of impatience can be heard as he says, “You helped make me what I am. We are bound to one another, until the end of time.”

Tav shudders as his hands come up to hold her face. She pulls in a sharp breath, expecting the cold sting of death from his usual chilled palms. Yet, they're completely warm as they cradle her jaw. Another reminder that he is now very much changed. Alive. His cologne assaults her senses once more and her eyes flutter closed as she settles into the strange comfort of his touch.

“My heart will never stop calling for you,” Astarion speaks softly. “No other can satisfy that hunger.” He brushes over her bottom lip with the pad of a thumb and feels her tremble below him. “You are to be my consort, my bride,” he insists, voice stern but low. “That is your role in this.”

Tav falters beneath his touch, allowing herself to be walked back to the wall next to the vanity. Her hands come up to wrap around his wrists. “Such honeyed words,” she retorts. “If I didn't know any better, I'd actually believe you.” Her back connects with the wall and she gasps.

“Tav, look at me,” Astarion demands with urgency. She doesn't comply, turning her head to the side. Slipping a hand from her cheek to grasp her chin, he forcibly turns her head back toward his. “Look at me!” he spits again.

Hesitant to look upon Astarion’s face, Tav cracks her eyes open. Opening them fully, it's not anger that she finds there. Her stomach flips. No, not anger or even disappointment. Instead, she sees… vulnerability.

“I wish I could replace you. I’ve tried,” Astarion bites out through clenched teeth. His face falls as his eyes settle on her. “Nothing can fill the void your absence has left.” He shakes his head slightly before adding, “Something within me screams for you, as if I were alone in a decrepit crypt and only you can save me.”

Her heart beats wildly in her chest. She feels as though she may suffocate, or that her heart may give out at a moment's notice. Tav begins to feel the tendrils of desire dance across her abdomen. They start low in her groin and quickly spread upward, causing a rhythmic contraction of her walls. She cannot fall for this again, she simply must not. All he's done is spout pretty words and step into her presence. And yet…

His breath pants against her face as he rests their foreheads together. The scent of freshly chewed mint whirls beneath her nose. Her vision spins.

In her stupor, Tav hardly notices Astarion's hands slipping under her nightgown. His palms rest on the backs of her thighs and he lifts a leg, allowing more room to slot himself against her core.

Tav groans as their centers meet, arching her back. Her chest presses into his and she moans, hands seeking purchase in his hair as he rocks himself into her once again.

“Astarion,” she pleads, wrapping her leg around the small of his back. A bolt of pleasure shoots up from her groin. She feels her walls clench again in desperation as his hardened cock brush against her cunt, straining against the fabric of his trousers. Her body remembers him and is all too eager to receive him once more.

Astarion knows. He recalls exactly how her body reacts almost on instinct to his touch. He pants against her lips with each roll of his hips into hers. “Come home with me, Tav,” he groans out. “Please, darling. I need you.”

His voice comes out ragged, stressed. Astarion leans against her chest, slipping his face into the nape of her neck. Inhaling deeply, a fire begins smoldering low in his belly. Her scent is of fresh mountain dew in early spring. Floral, sweet, and holding the promise of possibility. His cock twitches in anticipation.

Tav moans, loud and unfiltered. Her knees grow weak and she nearly buckles off the wall if Astarion weren't holding her up. She throws her head against the wall behind her, back arching once again.

“I mourned you,” Tav tells him, nearly breathless. “I mourned us.” She doesn't protest as Astarion lifts her other leg to join in locking around his waist. Tav doesn't fight how he grinds himself into her again, trapping her between himself and the wall. She feels faint, her vision growing fuzzy at the edges, though she manages to huff out, “You don't get to come here and make demands of me, Astarion.”

Astarion pulls his head back leisurely to meet her eyes. “You left me, remember?” he says low in his throat.

“What choice did you leave me with?” Tav exclaims in frustration. “You wanted me to sacrifice my life in order to prove my love for you. You would have never asked that of me before that accursed Rite!”

“I only wish to live out the rest of eternity together,” Astarion replies. “I promised I would protect you, that no harm would ever come to you.”

Tav stares into his face as realization registers in her mind, mouth falling slightly agape. She's gotten used to reading between the lines of his words, so often laced with duplicate meaning. True to his former life as a rogue of the night.

Her mortality is a threat to his oath.

Astarion cannot fathom going through the rest of time without her. Or, he does, and the thought is too painful for him to ever risk becoming reality. That is what he means to say, though apparently incapable in this new state.

“Isn't this what you wanted?” he asks, quietly. “To be together? Forever?”

Tears well in the creases of her eyelids and Tav sobs. “You are a fool, Astarion Ancunín,” she chides.

Astarion hovers his mouth mere millimeters above hers. “Only for you,” he says. “Always for you.” He captures her lips in a gentle embrace, breathing deeply through his nose as he pushes further into the kiss.

Tav moans into his mouth as she slackens her jaw, creating enough room for their tongues to begin exploring one another. She gasps as Astarion carries her from the wall to her bed on the far side of the room, grabbing at his shoulders for leverage.

“Tell me I may have you,” he asks, breaking the kiss as he lays her down over the mattress. He climbs over her, mouth descending upon her neck. He peppers chaste kisses along the underside of her jaw.

Tav writhes beneath him, whimpers escaping her throat as he licks and suckles on the delicate flesh of her throat. With resolve quickly waning, her hands find purchase again in silver locks as she finally says, “You may, but only for tonight.”

Astarion freezes above her. Hesitantly, he pulls himself back, looking her over as he begins shrugging off his doublet. “Are you sure?” he inquires softly.

This is the perfect opportunity to ask him to turn and leave. To not start this over again, to not return down a path in which she knows there is no favorable end. Though, Tav also cannot deny just how much she has missed him, as well.

“It's only sex, Astarion,” she tells him, sitting up to undo the ties of her nightgown. “That's all this will be.”

His hands come to rest atop hers, replacing her motions as he pulls gently at the laces of the gown. With the last tie undone her gown falls open, revealing her bare breasts to his heated gaze. Astarion sucks in a sharp breath as he meets her eyes.

“Only sex,” he ponders aloud as he furrows his brow. “But what if I want-”

“No,” Tav interjects, voice firm. “This is all I can give you. You either take this, or you have nothing.” Her breathing comes uneven as she stares back at him, chest heaving. Her nerves have come alight; she cannot fall in love with him again, but she can at least offer him this.

With a curt nod, Astarion replies, “As you wish.”

His expression is guarded as he fumbles with the laces of his trousers. He pulls his undershirt up and over his head, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor behind the bed. Standing up, he peels off his boots, pants, and underclothes in one fell swoop. He returns to Tav on the bed as bare as the day he was born, following her eyes as they roam down the long plane of his torso. They come to rest between his thighs.

Astarion’s cock stands ready at attention, jumping in tandem with his heartbeat. Saliva pools thick on her tongue and she slips the nightgown down and off her arms. She's left naked before him, not having time to fully dress before his unexpected visit. Tav hears him groan as he looks her over.

A surprised gasp falls from her mouth as he cups her sex. She feels him drag two fingers through the arousal that has already gathered between her folds, and watches as he brings those same fingers to his mouth. A bolt of desire pulls behind her navel as she watches his slick-soaked fingers slip between his lips. He suckles around them, moaning his approval.

With a wet pop, Astarion pulls the two digits from his mouth and places them against her cunt again. They're saturated with his spittle, softly prodding at her entrance.

“A-ah!” Tav gasps as his fingers sink in. It's only two, but Gods how she's struggling to take them. They glide in and out, Astarion occasionally curling his fingers to pass along the spongy spot inside her that turns her vision white.

It's not long before he's pulling his fingers out and lining himself up along her entrance. Astarion spits into his hand, giving himself a few languid strokes. The weight of his cock slaps down heavily as he drags his length through her slickened folds once, twice, before he's finally slipping into her.

Screwing his eyes shut, Astarion lets out a guttural groan as he feels his tip pop through her tense entrance, her warmth enveloping him as he seats himself a bit further before halting. Her walls spasm wildly around his shaft; it takes every ounce of willpower he has not to sink the rest of himself down into her inviting wet heat.

Tav sighs as she finally adjusts, body relaxing around him. She hadn't necessarily forgotten that taking Astarion is no small feat, though she did forget how it feels to actually do so.

“You can move,” she tells him meekly.

He doesn't respond with words; a simple nod of his head is all Tav gets before he's leaning over her, hips slipping further and further toward the backs of her thighs. Wrapping his arms around her thighs, Astarion pulls her into him, pelvis meeting her backside. He growls, cock twitching as his tip brushes against her cervix.

Tav shudders under him as he pulls out, feeling the dragging of his length within her cunt, only for him to push back in with added force. Her body jerks upward from the power of his thrust. An audible string of whimpers falls freely from her lips as he does it again, and again, and again.

Astarion catches Tav’s hands as she tries reaching for him, pushing them back toward the bedsheets. Confused by his gesture, Tav tries again, only for Astarion to once more shove her hands off of him.

Stunned, Tav looks at his face. Sweat is beginning to gather along his brow, though he keeps perfect composure. There is no lust nor passion to his expression. He looks… removed. Distant. Aloof.

Just… having sex.

“Astarion?” Tav asks, concerned. “I can't touch you?”

He scoffs above her, grunting as he slams his hips again into hers. “Touch is a rather intimate thing,” he says, sarcasm saturating his tone. “Intimacy isn't welcome when you're just having sex.”

“Stop,” Tav demands, hands pressing against his stomach. Astarion immediately ceases his movements. “This is too cold, Astarion,” she says quietly. “This isn't us.”

Above her, Astarion sucks in a large breath. “It is when it's devoid of emotion,” he clarifies, patience wearing thin. “That's what you wanted, isn't it?” He tilts his head, craning his neck to look down upon her. “Just a quick romp?”

“I-”

Venom seeps from his pores as he quickly adds, “If you were ever curious as to how I treat my harlots, well, now you know. It's rather different from our last time, eh? I wonder why that is?” Astarion feigns an inquisitive glance, placing a finger to the side of his mouth as his lips form into a pout.

“Astarion, I-”

Tav tries desperately to interject, but is disrupted again by Astarion snapping his fingers. “Oh, I know! It's because I made love to you!” he sneers, lips curling over his fangs as he leans closer to her face. “You were never a conquest to me!” he growls. “Never one night it's best to forget.”

Astarion exhales, eyes falling closed in an effort to regain his composure. “If you insist on me treating you like a whore in a brothel, fine,” he says, “I'll do it. But know it's not done willingly.”

Tav remains silent, words failing her. Her body trembles as the full weight of his confession echoes throughout her mind. Pulling in ragged breaths, she questions, “Would you make love to me again? If I asked?”

Astarion huffs out a laugh, his expression softening. “I would raze an entire city for you,” he confirms. “You need only ask.”

A sense of despair enshrouds her as she stares into his ruby red eyes. He still loves her, Tav realizes. As much as, if not more than, the day she left him. Her head pounds; she needs to stop this from going forward. The voice in her head is begging her not to continue, to not risk reopening the wound she's spent the last six months delicately stitching back together.

Their last night together replays in her thoughts. She recalls the all-encompassing feeling of want that radiated off Astarion, that night. He carried her into a world of pleasure she never dreamed possible, all while singing praises deeply into her ear as he rocked in and out of her core. They joined as one, body and soul. Or so Tav thought, until the following morning.

Astarion looks at her now with that same compassion in eyes. He means what he says; he would destroy anyone and anything should she ask it of him. He's already destroyed himself, all in a vow to protect her.

Choking back a sob, she accepts final defeat in the battle her heart fought so desperately since he first came through her window. “Make love to me then, Astarion,” Tav tells him, pleadingly. “The way you used to.”

The flame of the single candle in the room dances in his eyes. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Oh, my sweet,” he purrs, “There's nothing I'd like more,” Astarion brushes her cheek with the back of a palm. His arousal has flagged, still situated within Tav’s warmth, though it stirs back to life as he captures her lips in a hungry kiss.

Tav groans as she feels Astarion's length swell within her walls, noises swallowed by his mouth over hers. When he grows stiff enough, Astarion gives shallow thrusts between her legs. It isn't long until he's back to full virility, rolling his hips into hers in a steady rhythm.

She cries out as he breaks the kiss, one last deep thrust before he's pulling out of her. Pushing her legs back, knees almost hitting her chest, Astarion slips back into place between her thighs. Tav’s knees are being held up by his shoulders as he bends forward, sliding his cock back into her slickened cunt with ease.

Astarion groans as his cock slides down, down, down until his tip nudges the end of her tunnel. Tav gasps as he settles himself impossibly deeper, hips giving a soft push that leaves her womb pulsing. She claws at Astarion’s back when he pulls his hips up slightly, only to crash into her again.

Astarion rests his forehead against Tav’s. He drops his hips repeatedly into her center, eyes locked with hers as he does. The air pushed from her lungs from each of his thrusts passes over his face and he greedily sucks it in. Her face is flushed shades of red and pink as blood rushes through her veins, singing her desire loudly in his ears.

Nails sink into the tender scars on his back and Astarion hisses. With half open eyelids, Tav struggles to keep his gaze, pleasure threatened to overwhelm her. But when she finally does, she sees it. There, in his eyes, is him. The man she fell in love with.

Astarion's eyes are soft, round, pleading. The eyes of the man she gave herself to repeatedly all those months ago.

Each night she spent being devoured by his mouth, pulling the very essence of her body into his, she felt it - the sanctity of her oath dangling in the balance. Should she have stuck to her teachings, Astarion would’ve been staked through the heart at first discovery of his true nature. And yet, night after night, she willingly succumbed to the lustful desires that only her blood could provide him.

She moans as he angles his hips sharply on the next downstroke, the head of his cock brushing deliciously up against her spot. The rhythmic fluttering of her tunnel over his shaft pulls a throaty groan from Astarion, who quickly buries his face into the nape of her neck as the sensation wracks through his body. His arms envelop her torso, using her as leverage to increase the pace of her thrusts.

Tav feels her arousal leaking down the cleft of her ass, carved out from her with each plunge of his cock into her cunt. The tip of him rams against her spot repeatedly and she shakes in his arms, pleasure coiling tightly in her belly with not much left to hold onto. “Astarion,” she pants against his ear, mindlessly mouthing at his lobe. “Gods, Astarion…”

He groans again against her neck, skin muffling most of it. The sounds of their joint arousal fill the room, and Astarion pulls his lips back in anticipation of his impending climax. The smoldering fire in his belly has erupted into hellfire, threatening to consume all and any in its path if not quelled soon.

Fangs press into the delicate skin of her neck and Tav shivers, hands flying into his hair and grasping, pulling. “Do not bite me, Astarion,” Tav says, panicked.

Humming his disapproval, Astarion reluctantly pulls his head away from her neck. He rests his forehead against hers again. “Where do you want me, Tavaria?” The question comes quietly, unguarded. Strained.

Tavaria.

The sound of her full name on his tongue sends pulses of desire through her belly. He's close, Tav realizes. Astarion pants against her face as his thrusts grow more uneven. Moving a hand to his jaw, Tav holds his cheek, rubbing his chin with her thumb. “However you want,” comes her reply.

Astarion shudders, a moan slipping past his lips, eyes rolling to the back of his skull momentarily. He blinks back into focus, chest heaving as his breathing becomes labored. He's barely lifting hips into Tav, instead giving short stuttering thrusts that have his tip kissing her cervical os.

“Tav, please,” he begs. “Tell me.”

Silver strands of hair stick to his sweat-soaked forehead. Brushing them out of the way with a hand, she plants a kiss between his brow. “Inside,” she coos. “It's okay.”

Carnal desire flares behind Astarion's eyes. He grunts, raw and guttural as he dips his head back into the crook of her neck. He feels his cock begin to swell, a telltale sign that his release is imminent.

Tav whimpers as Astarion rams over her pleasure point again and again, the fattened head of his cock dragging along her walls. It doesn't take much longer before she's screaming out her completion below him, nails digging into the skin of his marred back.

Astarion roars out his own climax above her, balls pulling up tightly as fangs sink into the pillow next to her. He floods her channel with his seed, tiny rolls of his hips pulling groans from his chest as he rides out the wave. Tav’s walls are more than willing to massage the rest of his spend from his balls and into her greedy womb.

They lay together panting, post-coital haze in full effect. It isn't until Astarion shifts to pull out his softening member that Tav feels it - his spend dribbling from her entrance and onto the nightgown under her. He's the first to leave the bed, shaking his head while running a hand through tousled locks. Tav watches him disappear into her washroom as she slowly sits herself up onto her elbows.

The sound of water running into the tub can be heard and Astarion reappears in the doorway. He returns to the bed, Tav gasping as he scoops her up into his arms and carries her toward the washroom.

“What are you doing, Astarion?” she asks, mind still clouded by her peak. She loops her hands around his neck, lolling her head against his shoulder.

A chuckle rumbles from his chest as he kisses the top of her head. “Taking care of you,” he answers, bringing them both across the threshold of the washroom.

-------------------------------------------

Tav awakens the next morning alone, tucked snuggly in her bed. The events of the night are hazy as she slowly regains consciousness. She doesn't recall when or how she fell asleep. Peeling off the covers and giving herself a quick look over, she realizes she's dressed in her nightgown again. The ties are neatly in place, eerily similar to how she had them before.

Looking around her room, there's no evidence that Astarion had been present. The papers she swore fell to the floor are all stacked neatly on her dresser. The candle has been hushed out, and her windows closed.

Was it a dream? she ponders, heart rate rising as her confusion grows.

Her eyes scan the room frantically in an attempt to find a single piece out of place. Finally, she finds the answer she is searching for laying atop her vanity. Rising out of bed, Tav walks over to find a single rose laid across the top of the desk. He was here, Tav notes to herself, bringing the rose to her face. She inhales its sweet scent, dread filling her heart as the heavy weight of last night begins to actualize.

No, it was very real. And it’s only just beginning.

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