All yours [H.S oneshots]

The Assassin and Her Prince (SwH)

"Fuck me as I fuck you, Lysandra."

A/N:

This chapter is very special to my heart. It is what I imagine a scene from my book that I missed writing so much would be like, just with names changed.

It's also not for everyone.

If you love blood and sex. Enjoy <3

~ Harry in this chapter ~



Warnings:

• Blood Kink (!!)

• Knife play (carving)

• Unprotected sex

• Anal Play

• Verbal Degradation

• Oral (F-receiving)

• Rough sex

~~

Blood. Blood. Blood.

A knife. A quick flash of silver sliced through air.

A throat cut open. Life almost slipped away. She was one step away from death.

"You better not move," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath brushing her neck as he gently pushed away strands of her hair.

At this moment, everything seemed strangely calm. It's as if the world took a pause, and an eerie silence with desperate longing filled the air.

"What if I do?" Lysandra asked in a sultry, seductive voice, her tone only a murmur. "Will you kill me then?"

Harry's hand tightened around her bleeding throat, and Lysandra gasped, a mix of fear and fascination. "Is that what you want?"

She then smiled, a cunning grin set on her lips. "It's not what Mr. Styles would've wanted, or should I say, the late Mr. Styles."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes turning serious. "You killed him." Realization dawned on him, and he took a step back, hitting the wall, the knife slipping from his trembling hands.

It fell to the floor, and Lysandra was quick to pick it up. She carefully scraped off the blood from her skin with the knife's edge, the metallic scent filling the air as she collected the red liquid. With a mischievous spark in her eyes, she guided the blade to her lips, savoring the metallic taste on her tongue.

"Is Daddy's little boy upset, hmm?" Lysandra's taunts sliced through the tense atmosphere, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She laughed, the sound dripping with mockery, and tilted her head back, a cruel reminder of her dangerous demeanor. "So ungrateful, aren't you? I did you a favor, made you the king of the underworld."

Her hands slowly pushed against his chest, tilting his gaze up from the floor, the knife's edge dangerously close. "You should've thought about this before helping your daddy kill my brother," she hissed, her eyes burning with vengeance and a smoldering desire for payback.

Harry's gaze was locked with Lysandra's in that intense moment, and he felt trapped in a dangerous game of power and revenge. Lysandra's grip on the knife tightened, and a wicked gleam in her eyes grew stronger as she moved closer toward him, their faces nearly touching. Her voice held both a threat and a seductive undertone, a risky combination that kept him captivated.

"You're in deep trouble," Harry uttered through his clenched teeth, his defiance clashing with the rising tide of desire and dread. But his words faltered as Lysandra's hands continued their descent, tracing a path of raging temptation. He struggled and writhed visibly under her touch, caught in a battle between his determination and the irresistible charm that she exerted over him. The room throbbed with the electric tension between them, a forbidden desire that tightened with every passing moment.