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ataraxiaspainting · 5 months

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Hier Encore II.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

[Hier Encore I.]

Synopsis: Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, 1995, April 10th. You are a director of public safety. The Phantom Troupe attacks the headquarters and takes you under the guise of a hostage situation. Even when the ransom is paid, you are never returned and assumed to be dead. After thirteen months of captivity, in 1996, on May 9th, you escape and try to learn how to live again somewhere far away from your captor. The payment of freedom comes with a steep cost, one that stains your hands so much that even if you drown them in bleach, the stain will remain there for the rest of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, not SFW implications, misogynistic undertones (not from Chrollo), forced tattooing, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, mentions of starvation, some minor Hunter x Hunter spoilers, violence, Hisoka showing up sorry about that in advance, minor character death, and stalking.

Word Count: 13.7k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

4:00 A.M. by Taeko Onuki

My Girlfriend Is a Witch by October Country

Michelle by Sir Chloe

Sonne by Rammstein

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Venus Fly Trap by MARINA

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

cult leader by KiNG MALA

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez

“She looked like a vixen, and that’s what she was; she had all the instincts of a female fox. She was the proverbial predatory female. She had what she wanted, now, and she was content. There was just the getting completely away with it that counted.” – Gil Brewer, Sin for Me

ii. “I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

You’re happy here.

You’re happy here, picking pumpkins and apples to make decorations and cook into pies. You’re happy here, harvesting sunflowers to put into glass vases around your cottage. You’re happy here, going into the farmer’s market and smelling freshly roasted corn and baked goods.

You’re happy here with Sebaste.

You’re happy here with Sebaste, who is always carrying gifts for you–lovingly ignoring your pleas to better learn how to budget his money–cookies, fried mushrooms, glazed yams, eggplant parmesan… your favorites. His too.

You hope he’s happy here with you too.

He says he does.

*~*~*~*

“Where do you want it? The neck, the leg? Lower, higher?” a voice, still trying to be cordial but exhaustion and annoyance overtook it halfway.

The faux leather furniture squeaks slightly as it is pushed down a bit by you sitting on it. You try to adjust yourself as you lay on your stomach, the plastic beneath you crinkling. ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me is playing from the small radio, the audio slightly too quiet for you to make out what part the song was at, and also because of how loud the tattoo artist was as she asked Chrollo a few questions.

“The lower back.” he touches it with his cold finger, almost making you jump and run out of that parlor. “Somewhere around here.”

You try to close your eyes and imagine you are anywhere else in the world. Even a sketchy bar would be better than this tattoo parlor because at least then you could leave with no pain in your body.

“Okay.”

“Thirty thousand Jenny, along with a million for keeping silent about this.” You hear a large bag filled with coins being placed on the table. The same bag that made the owner of this place go on his knees and kept repeating that there was no appointment necessary anymore. While the sound of money jingling would make anyone feel happy, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. No one will ever know though, because you keep your mouth shut unless you have to say something sweet. “Feel free to count it if you wish. I will not stop you.”

“Nah. I’ll pass.”

“Alright then. Are you going to use a stencil first to show me what it would look like? I think that would be best.”

You hear a tired sigh. “If that’s what you want. I’ll take it out.”

Your legs want to run. Your heart wants to burst out of your chest. Your eyes want tears to come out in rivers. But you can’t.

You can’t because it’s useless and all of your progress would be ruined.

“Here we are.”

You feel thermal paper going on the spot just above where your butt is.

“Looks good.” Chrollo hums, pleased. “Behave. I’ll be back soon.”

His voice is soft but still firm. He steps toward you and squeezes your hand lightly, his thumb rubbing circles around it. He hums again. You can only see his shoes from this angle, but you know he is smiling. You want to scream, but you can’t.

You nod, still not talking. You hear a praise leave his lips, but you’re too scared to pay attention. He thanks the tattoo artist and leaves. The door shuts behind him quietly. For a brief moment, you sigh with relief.

The tattoo artist also sighs. There is a nervous chuckle that escapes both of your mouths, the type where both of you know what would happen if either of you were to step out of line. You try to move your neck upwards to look at the posters on the wall. Most are Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell, with a few of Audrey Hepburn. The largest poster is of the 1953 film Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, with Monroe and Russell dancing above the title in revealing magician outfits.

The tattoo artist turns the dial on the radio, putting on I Put A Spell On You instead, which you'd rather listen to.

The tattoo artist leans in closer and talks to you in a whisper. "I'm so sorry about this. I had to do it."

Your eyes are wide, but you manage to keep your calm. Your fingers are shaking. Chrollo's voice is in your head, telling you to be still or he'll know. You do your best to ignore it as the tattoo needle stabs your back, sending shivers down your spine.

The entire process takes five hours, with you zoning out after about twenty minutes.

The tattoo artist lets out a heavy sigh and leans back in her chair. "We're done, darling. I hope you're satisfied with your new tattoo."

You're exhausted. Your back feels numb. You have zero interest in looking at your new tattoo. You just want to leave.

Chrollo walks through the door with an even bigger smile on his face. "Ah, she's done, is she? Let me take a look."

He walks closer and sees the spider web tattoo, the number zero being on top of it.

"Beautiful. Your tattoo looks amazing, darling." Chrollo stares deeply into your eyes. "Now, would you mind standing up so I can see you in full?"

His eyes wander around your body. Your heart drops as you stand up.

Chrollo looks from your head to your feet as you stand. With every inch of your body, he smiles more deeply. "You look amazing, my dear. Stunning." He runs his smooth fingers across your skin, tracing the design of your tattoo. "Well, I'm satisfied with your new tattoo." He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the door. "Now, let's head back to the room. Don't you need to sleep? It's been a tiring day."

He stares at your tattoo one last time before reaching out and touching your back, tracing the black spiderweb pattern. You want to cry, but you can’t. You feel both the physical and mental pain silencing you. So, all you do is nod.

Nothing is worth the risk.

The tattoo artist doesn’t look at either of you because of the intense guilt she feels.

The December weather outside only makes you want to shiver more.

Life is death. Death is a blessing that allows the weak to rest. Death is life. Life is a curse that allows only the strong to reap the rewards.

*~*~*~*

Even after all this time since the incident happened, your lower back still hurts.

It burns whenever you touch it–like your skin is on fire–but it may be more mental than physical.

There is no scarring, thankfully, and because it is on your lower back, it can easily be hidden. Perhaps that was the point of the placement, for only if you do not have a long shirt or high-waisted pants would anyone see it; and only Chrollo was the only one you were allowed to be nude with, not that you had any choice.

It is the 21st of October, 1998. Sebaste now sleeps in the same bed as you. He talks in his sleep sometimes, about celebrating Halloween with you or his mother. It’s cute, you think. The photo frame beside the bed has a Polaroid photo of you and him, both smiling brightly. It’s a gift from his mother to you in more ways than one. Whenever your paranoia is set off, you hold it in your arms until you have calmed down.

You loved Robin like you would your mother, and aside from Sebaste, she was the only one you would regularly talk to. She is kind to you, and once gave you hand-carved furniture as a gift when Sebaste first introduced you to her as his girlfriend. On colder days she brings you a pot of her homemade pumpkin soup and chatters away as soon as she sets foot in your home. She was talkative, very talkative, which funnily enough contrasts with Sebastian's introversion.

*~*~*~*

“What will you do to stop people from knowing I am still alive?”

The question you asked, mere days into your kidnapping, came when you were lying down, restrained. You did not mean to sound aggressive, but you think you did by accident. Your nervousness is making you lose your touch, it seems.

“If you would like to know, my dear, I shall tell you.” Your captor responds, sitting on a chair beside the bed.

You want to scream for help. You want to demand him to take the silk binds off of you and run for the hills. But you can’t, because you know it would be useless. You have to wait for the right moment.

“I want to know.”

A book covers the lower part of his face, but his eyes still look down on you from your helpless position. The Brothers Karamazov. How fitting.

“We will request more money for your release.” Even though you cannot see half of his face, you know he is smiling from how pleased his voice sounds. “So much money that the authorities will simply give up on you, money that simply cannot be paid.”

Here you are, with a silk scarf tied around your wrists, not too tight but not too loose, and another binding your legs. He got rid of the handcuffs when he returned with you to a penthouse, wanting in some sense to make sure you were at least partially comfortable. Perhaps the handcuffs were just to ensure the public thought that you were a hostage taken for ransom.

“Four million, sixteen million, perhaps twenty million for just a cut of your hair, maybe fifty million for a photo of you in your presumed last moments.” There is a pause, with you finally being able to hear your rapid heartbeat hidden behind a mask of calmness. “They will give up on you eventually, and the world will continue to go on as it always has.”

You silently wish that you could turn your hearing off like a light. There is such depravity, devotion, and greediness in his tone.

“Maybe they won’t.” Your eyes keep moving around the room to avoid his intense stare from above. “Maybe they’ll know whatever body you plant is fake. Maybe they’ll locate me. Maybe they’ll… they’ll pay everything off.”

“That does not seem plausible, my sweet.”

You are holding back a sea of tears.

“Even though you think so, there is quite a small chance that will happen. That chance will only dwindle as the price increases, I am afraid. Money is far more important to governments than human lives in all cases. You know that, don’t you?” Chrollo says, his voice slightly teasing, turning a page of his book. “Perhaps it is for the best that they think you are dead though, angel, with all of the… dealings you have done when you thought no one was watching. You are quite resourceful. It’s something we have in common, you know.”

You know that you’ll only make this situation worse if you try to fight back anymore.

You just look up at the ceiling and count the tiles, waiting for the moment he unties you.

One, two, three, four, five, six…

*~*~*~*

You liked gardening before your capture, and still do. As a hobby, you grow plants that are suitable for the fall setting. You cook with them when they have matured enough, or give them to Robin if you have too much of them. You especially like yams because they can be cooked into both sweet and savory dishes. A duplex trait you love.

It keeps your mind off of Chrollo.

You got yourself a new watering can recently. It can hold more water for your plants and it is prettier than your old one. It is a metal one, the spout rose freshly cleaned from rust by your gloved hands scrubbing for what felt like a millennium. It was worth it. The water compartment has purple lilies and white jasmine flowers on its bottom half. There are also a few butterflies, bees, and praying mantises among them. It’s cute and comforting to you.

This new life is also just as cute and comforting to you. You feel a sense of stability now that you aren’t forced to go from place to place by your captor or in fear of being caught by him. There is a sweetness and simplicity to it all. You get better sleep now that you share a bed with someone you love rather than someone you hate with all your being. You wear sweaters and sweatpants instead of those revealing shirts and short skirts, being free to dress warmly for once. Even when you were given tights as a reward for good behavior, they always were not nearly enough to make you stop shivering. Whenever you go to a clothing store in the town you avoid the section with clothes that are meant to show off collarbones or thighs. You’d rather die than wear them, even in the scorching heat of the summer months, bearing the rolls of sweat that appear on your face and your back.

*~*~*~*

The clothes are too tight. It’s hard to walk like this.

Everything itches.

You would love nothing more than to take your clothes off right here.

One of your hands goes to the upper part of your back while the other goes near your spine, your arms almost hugging you from how odd their placements are. As much as you fidget, you cannot seem to get that one spot, until you feel someone else scratch it gently.

“Here?”

You sigh, relieved as Jean’s nails move up and down, subduing your discomfort.

“The bodice is almost strangling me, and they gave me ballet slippers twice my size.” You groan as you sweep your bangs to the side so you can see what is in front of you. You start walking with Jean away from the stage and into the darkness of the hallway where the dressing rooms are.

“Don’t you think you can buy a new pair?” A well-meaning question, but their tone doesn’t stop you from dryly laughing.

“I’m not the one who had the lead role.” You walk to the door with the number four on it, twisting the handle and pushing it backward. “This is just a sideshow, anyway. As soon as I get that promotion, I’m getting out of here and moving to a different Yorknew district. One with a name that does not claim to be a saint.” Upon entering the dressing room, you raise your arms towards the ceiling and emit a low, discontented sound. “Hilland or Kingstown, hopefully. Those have the highest crime rates, after all.”

“Saintshore isn’t that bad.” Jean leans on the door and begins to take off their shoes, their quality much higher than yours. Your eyes go back between your vanity and theirs, both of which have bouquets piled on top of each other, along with other gifts. “The audience loves you, you know.”

“Then why was I the deuteragonist yet again?” Your hands shift through your mound, separating the flowers from everything else. Some chocolates, makeup, perfume, confessional love letters… nothing to pay much attention to, as usual. Frustration overtakes you, but you don’t let it show.

“I mean it. Everyone loves you. You rival my popularity most of the time.”

Another dry laugh from you. “Then my dog days should be over by now.”

“Perhaps they will soon.” You don’t need to look in the mirror to know that Jean is smiling, trying to comfort you as they always do. “I think you’ll be okay. You have plenty of potential and you are admired by many here, from the patrons to the staff.”

“If those people loved me as much as they say they do, then I wouldn’t be in this dress and instead be living in a penthouse, living a life of luxury without working a single hour.”

“Maybe that will happen someday. You never know.” A hug from behind. “Maybe you’ll be swept off your feet tomorrow by some charming, tall stranger. Like those meet cutes from those movies you like watching.”

“If only, Jean. If only.”

*~*~*~*

Robin took you to the library today because you had mentioned that the few books you had were getting boring. She told you that she had never taken for an answer when you said you didn’t want to bother her. She then grabbed your hand and pulled you all the way here, repeating that you were never an inconvenience to her and that she loved you. She accompanied you to the horror section, remembering your fondness for the genre as you had mentioned a few days ago. That and Halloween were just around the corner.

You were glad to have someone to talk to while Sebaste was busy working in his office, at least.

Robin was chattering away, talking about random stuff that she remembered or events that happened when she was younger. A few weeks ago, she went on a tangent about the history of execution methods and how it related to racial segregation, and if you were being honest it was interesting to listen to. You learn a lot from Robin this way, even things like carving you learn more from her words and less from her movements.

As much as her interests are varied and odd, you cannot deny that Robin is very knowledgeable. Whenever Robin is present, it's as if you're engaged in a conversation with an old buddy or a younger sibling passionately discussing their interests, even though Robin is significantly older than you. If it wasn’t for the fact that there are many small sections of white hair amongst her ginger locks and her wrinkles, a stranger would probably have assumed that she is your little sister.

You love her and trust her.

“What about this one?” Robin asks, holding out a book with the title We Have Always Lived In The Castle on its monochrome front.

If you recall correctly, it’s a Shirley Jackson work. Someone recommended it to you a long time ago, you think. You can’t remember who exactly, though. It was not Chrollo as he was not the most interested in horror to begin with. All that was on his bookshelves were books relating to philosophy or something else in that vein.

At present, the library houses a mere handful of people. The librarian, the village teacher with two visibly tired children. A girl about your age with bright purple hair and a black leather jacket with tiny spikes on its cuffs and a white skull on the back of it. A man who looked a bit older than you was reading a book with his other hand on his chin looking zoned out in a way.

*~*~*~*

There is a pleased, wanting moan coming from behind you on the bed.

“We’re finally alone, baby…”

Don Dario lays on his bed, large enough to be used by at least five people. The frame is made of agarwood, and the headboard is crested with what you assume is pure gold, considering how rich the Don is. The pillows are encased with wine red and medallion yellow silk. So are the curtains of the canopy. The blanket is doused in similar shades, but slightly darker than you think. If you choose to lie down, you could see the painted inside of the marquee, but you don’t want to. You do not want to sleep with this slimeball. So you simply sit at the corner hoping the Don would just give up and let you go.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” His knees are stabbing into the mattress and he is quickly unbuckling the belt of his crimson velvet robe, moaning and chuckling with excitement. “Come on, pussycat. Come to Daddy.” Even though you refuse to face him, you can envision how he is licking his lips as you hear his mantle being thrown to the floor. “No need to keep playing hard to get. Nobody’s here aside from you and me. I know you want me, darling.”

Click, click, click.

He crawls on all fours to your backside and then to your right side, still cooing and cawing. You finally look at his eyes, and you see the direction they are facing; downwards. After a slight scoff from you, though, he looks upwards towards your face. “You’re so cute, you know. I feel like I will never get tired of looking at you.”

Click, click, click.

“You like me too, don’t you?” There is a smirk on his face, making his double chin even larger and making you in turn narrow your eyes. “You must, at least a little bit, right? Everyone wants a piece of me. But I don’t mind if such a pretty girl like you wants to get a bit more than you were told that you would get. You will, if you promise to come back, that is. For another round.”

There is a whisper of a glare in your eyes, and when Don Dario notices this he simply laughs haughtily.

“Now, now, sweetie.” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I always keep my word. You just have to do your part and everything will be fine.”

“I never said I would do this, you forced me to be here.”

The grip tightens and you wince. “When I saw you on that stage, I knew I had to have you. I was feeling generous. I still am.” His voice is now cold and demanding, the opposite of how it was just a few seconds ago. “I’ll pay off your debts and have a word with your boss, I promise, if you do as you are told.”

“Asshole.”

Click, click, click.

There is a murmur of fondness from Don Dario’s mouth, but you don’t care enough to make out what he said.

“You know no sane woman would sleep with you willingly, and so you order your lackeys to grab one by the hair and drag her to your room. Quite pathetic, wouldn’t you say?”

Don Dario rolls onto his back and cackles like he is being tickled. “This kitten is trying to use her claws to fight a lion! How adorable.” You want to throw up.

Click, click, click.

A flash.

“What was that?” You ask, irate.

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Your neck turns to see him start to unbutton his shirt, the golden letters and medals of the many necklaces around his neck smashing against one another. “Just a few mementos, and also to make sure you don’t say anything… crummy.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Call me whatever you like, but one way or another you’ll do what I want.” There is a sudden grab of your hair as you are forced to lay on the mattress roughly. The touch of the velvet beneath you, despite being soft, also feels like molasses on your skin and makes you feel slow and heavy. “Let us not wait a second longer, my bride for today. Be good for me and maybe I’ll even send more money your way in the future.”

You want to cry out for help, but his henchmen are right outside his bedroom door in case you try to run. It would be useless. You wouldn’t be let go and all that would result from it is you being pushed and shoved back into Don Dario’s arms eventually. He would find you if you ran.

You decide not to fight anymore. You’re exhausted and there would be no point in the long run. You nod and the genuine smile that appears on Don Dario’s face is a terrifying sight to you. At least you would get that promotion and the money to pay off your debts, even if it hurts to walk in the morning.

“Give daddy some sugar, baby.”

Every hair on your body stands on end as you nod.

You are nothing now but a Mignonne who is forced to be swept off her feet.

“Lay all your love on me.”

*~*~*~*

The newspaper today had an odd headline, to say the least. Especially because this town is so far away from the Saintshore district of Yorknew. It would take forever to get to it, not that you would ever want to return to that place that should be categorized as a nuclear dump if anything. The food was greasy. There was always a whiff of smoke, either from the smokers or the many, many cars, and rusty needles on the ground below you if you set foot outside. Not that there would be a point in going for a walk as Saintshore was practically unwalkable except for a few suburban areas and a small portion of the poorly taken care of parks.

Mobster Don Dario Niccolo Found Beheaded In Alleyway was not a title you had ever thought would be read or even seen by you or anyone for that matter, but it makes sense. Dario was not short of enemies who would do anything to kill him or at the very least sabotage his business affairs with other criminals. He always had the limelight on him, whether his deeds were good or bad. That gave him the nickname of the uncrowned king of Saintshore. You don’t feel bad for his family or his ‘friends’ in the slightest. That is one person who is part of your unwanted past gone, after all, and someone will be there to get the blood-soaked inheritance and probably continue the Niccolo legacy to take more money.

You’re happy to be far away from that district and from the Phantom Troupe, almost enough to get you on your knees and worship the stars above you.

*~*~*~*

His movements are always silent, never betraying his presence with the sound of footsteps. You never hear them coming.

He does it on purpose, you think, to keep you on edge and to catch you in any act of escaping he suspects you will do.

He’s right if he does expect you will try something, though.

His earrings glimmer in the moonlight, hypnotizing you with their beauty. His eyes glimmer too, his irises reminding you of the pitch-black sky that is above you two and this picnic blanket. His teeth remind you of pearls sold in unpurchasable jewelry shops. At least you feel hypnotized, because you do nothing as he takes your hand, not even flinching. Like the devil, Chrollo is beautiful. But the beauty is only hiding what lurks beneath the surface; a monster.

“Open wide, dearest.” The chocolate-covered strawberry leans closer, pale fingertips holding onto its dark green leaves. “This is romantic, is it not?”

Maybe you can blur out his words for a bit longer to again remove the bitter taste in your mouth. Then only the sweetness of the scenery in front of you would remain, hypnotizing you yet again.

*~*~*~*

When you step out of your house’s door, it is like you are instantly transported back to four years ago; the last time you celebrated Halloween.

All the houses on every block have decorations of some kind, whether going all out with animatronics supposed to resemble monsters like the popular Bays’ house or a measly jack-o-lantern standing out amongst a poorly taken care of front yard like the lone Mr. Hyde’s house. Perhaps the weeds only increased the scariness for the children and were done on purpose. Ah, weeds. How horrifying. All of the houses also have candy to give out to the trick-or-treaters, from Ms. Alson’s house down the street to the unpopular Blissetts’, your neighbors. In Ms. Alson’s case, she is giving out handmade gift bags to everyone who passes by, even adults. However, the Blissetts only put out a smaller-than-life basket of candy corn with a ‘take one’ sign next to it. Terrifying.

“Trick or treat. Give me something good to eat!” The kids chanted, running around in circles as they all wore costumes.

*~*~*~*

As you ponder the origins of this situation, you diligently search for any missteps on your part. Chrollo, in his typical fashion, remains silent about the expression on your face as your mind races. He always waits for you to speak first, yet you are certain he is aware of your thoughts. Together on the balcony, he feigns interest in his book, his sunglasses serving as a disguise to conceal the gaze fixated upon you. What could you have possibly done to cause such a high-ranking criminal to be romantically interested in you? Did you meet somewhere before? Did he see you from afar and become obsessed with you that way?

“You look rather nice with only my shirt on.” A hand is placed on your bare thigh, squeezing the meaty flesh gently.

“When did you first start liking me?” Your vocal tone emerges with a softer and huskier quality than initially intended. You discreetly clear your throat, contemplating whether a repetition of your words is necessary. Chrollo's gaze is fixated upon you, yet you avoid meeting his eyes, instead directing your attention towards the captivating spectacle of the sunset. The hues of yellow seamlessly blend into orange, which seamlessly blends into red, the colors melding together without complete separation. He affectionately applies more pressure to your thigh, emitting a gentle hum. This shirt serves two purposes: to allure him, ultimately facilitating your escape, and to maintain a facade of modesty, despite it being the most conservative garment available in the hotel room. Your loathing for him burns fiercely within, yet you must never allow it to manifest outwardly.

When you fixate on the sunset, you wonder to yourself if you perhaps can distract yourself from the sensation of his hand caressing your thigh.

Placing his book on the table near the outdoor couch, he leans in your direction and gently draws you onto his lap. You make no resistance, acknowledging the potential advantage this holds for your scheme. After all, even if you tried, he wouldn't allow you to escape.

“I mean if you don’t mind. If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t get mad.” You lean in, Chrollo’s hair slightly tickling your nostrils. “It’s your choice.”

“You’re right in that aspect. It is my choice.” He hums and you can picture his eyes behind his sunglasses shifting upwards in reminiscence. The arm around you pulls you in closer so that your nose is right next to his neck. “But I’ll tell you if that is what you want. I was in Saintshore and saw you dancing in a ballet.”

“Which one?” You mumble, not even surprised that he knew your side job before you were promoted. You can smell his cologne; musk, sandalwood, rum, and vanilla. He always sprays just a bit too much, not enough to make you cough but enough for you to smell it whenever he is close. Not that you would ever tell him that, as that would ruin your plan and he is self-aware enough to know what he is doing.

“Swan Lake. You played an excellent Odile, beloved.” His hand brushes your arm while the other dances on your thigh still. The queen of the black swans.

“That’s it?” You ask, and Chrollo responds by having his hand over upward from your thigh to your bangs, brushing them to the side.

“You were just so graceful. You still are just as beautiful, you know.” He kisses your forehead and you try your hardest to not flinch. As you gaze at the sunset, you make a conscious effort to divert your attention from the affectionate tone in his voice. He passionately shares his journey of falling in love with you, while his hand gently rests beneath your shirt, and you sense something hard beneath you. It’s best not to think about it too much, you tell yourself.

*~*~*~*

Two years, five months, twenty-two days, twenty-three hours, and five minutes.

That is the duration of time that had passed since your triumphant escape, about half the duration accounting for the time it took for you to reach a considerably distant location from the place where you were held prisoner.

Tickets to films, musical adaptations, ballets, stage adaptations, and operas. Piles upon piles of novels, fashionable clothes, and delicious food that were more expensive than anything you had ever bought before your capture. Everything was given to you in the blink of an eye, all aside from freedom.

Memorabilia like heart-shaped sunglasses, flared sundresses, lingerie made with lace and silk, violas, violins, cellos, croissants, cream puffs, macaroons, rings, necklaces, chokers, thigh highs, garter belts, short skirts, sheer tights, and hotpants were all given to you without you even asking. You only wore them and played them and ate them when it would help you with your escape plan, which you guessed was all the time. You became the archetype known as the temptress, a symbol of lust and desirability. Unethical, a Queen Bee, mysterious, wanting, and seductive. But you also had to become Chrollo’s sweetheart at the same time. A princess from a fairytale, a coquette, gentle, sweet, and alluring.

*~*~*~*

The bedroom is suffocating to you. It was too clean, too pristine, the walls having all furniture mounted on it tidy with not a speck of dust or dirt. There is a low hum of the air conditioner that is above hung paintings that were both stolen and bought legally. A pendulum clock above the bed with its hand swinging from side to side with a constant tick-tocking sound. The blanket restraining your wrists was tied to the headboard, the half that was all things considered a piece of your part of the bed. He doesn’t restrain your legs anymore, a reward you suppose for good behavior, for not trying to kick him whenever he touches you or at the very least within your range. Similarly, he doesn’t gag you anymore for not screaming and crying and demanding to be let go.

He sometimes feeds you and sometimes lets you feed yourself. He brings you whatever you want to eat whenever you want to eat. Pastries, cheese, bread, pasta, all of it you have access to, all you have to do is ask for it. If you don’t request anything, the meal will be something nutritious and balanced, like steamed rice and broccoli with tofu and miso soup. One time you refused to eat, clamping your mouth shut like a toddler as he gently tried to guide a metal spoon to your lips.

You tired your neck out that way and gave in about an hour later, though the food was ice cold by then.

You don’t refuse to eat anymore. You don’t do a lot of things you want to do anymore. You are scheduled as to when you can and cannot walk within the penthouse like you are his dog. The only room you have privacy in is the bathroom, when the silk restraints come off and you can walk around freely, as small as the room is. Though it is windowless, and there would be nowhere to hide if Chrollo ever decided to open the lockless bathroom door.

If you are good, he lets you watch movies or shows on the television, he’ll read to you, one time he even gave you some of your old things from your apartment, putting them on the table beside you. If you are bad… On days that you are bad, he ignores you, aside from when you ask to go to the bathroom, he describes the brutalness of the murders he has committed in great detail as you squirm, or he will tickle you for an hour straight until your face is red with tears and you can hardly breathe.

“I’m willing to wait.”

He repeats this every time you try to tear the blanket off of your wrists and ankles, every time after you cry and scream your lungs out, every time you refuse to look at him and at yourself in a desperate attempt to control at least one thing; your imagination. He wants you to break and leave only your vulnerable, core self. You could never resist the pull of rebellion forever, your thread of patience always eventually snapping and forcing yourself to tie it back together. You could never resist what lays dormant in the deepest crevices of your heart; a chained-up beast.

“With time, all pain fades.”

*~*~*~*

Maybe he is right in that aspect. As much as you want to deny it, with every passing month you were held captive, what Chrollo does then surprised you less and less. You sort of became comfortably numb to it all, only focusing on escape and not how much he touched you everywhere and told you sweet nothings both in and out of bed.

*~*~*~*

“The bathroom is well stocked with all sorts of soaps and shampoos and creams, as well as any other necessities you will need for this.” Chrollo says as he presses one of the mirrors above the sink, the mirror opening and revealing more products than are at the rim of the bathtub already. As always, his voice is calm.

You have never heard him angry before, or sad before, and you don’t want to. You don’t know what he would do if you pushed him to that point. That is why when Chrollo had told you that he wanted you to bathe him as a reward for you being so good these past few weeks, you agreed. You had just graduated from being restrained from the bed to being able to walk around the penthouse freely, and you don’t want that taken away from you, especially so soon.

“And I expect you to do a good job.” He adds, bringing your focus back on him and not on the restraints he had tucked away in his closet a few days ago. “There might be other rewards for you if you do so.”

“I know.” You mutter and pull the handle above the bathtub. Water starts to flow and warm up. You want to ask him if those rewards would be for you or him, but you can’t bring yourself to. Rewards from Chrollo are always a gamble, ranging from making bread to him bringing you a spider lily plant home to gifting you clothes that showed off your collarbone to you sitting on his lap as he read.

“Good girl,” Chrollo says, watching as the tub begins to fill with water and he closes the mirror with a soft click. “And if you’re a very good girl,” He pauses for a moment as the edges of his lips bend into a smirk from what you can see in the foggy mirror. “Who knows what kind of reward I might just give you.” He turns to you, his face still covered by a sly smile. “That is, of course, if you’re a very good girl.”

As much as you try to stop it, your eyebrows furrow slightly at his statement, unsure of what to think. All he does is chuckle.

“Why don’t I make this as fun for you as possible?” In his hands are narrow glass vials, each a different color. From the grainy appearance you can see from each bottle, you can safely assume that they are bath salts. You are right as Chrollo puts them each on the area around the sink one by one. “After all, you’re going to be taking a bath with me.” He pauses for a moment, allowing his words to hang in the air. “I hope you’re excited, darling.” He leans in close and presses a kiss on your forehead. “You’re going to enjoy this very, very much, I promise.”

“I know.” You mutter again as you step forward toward the sink, and Chrollo steps back a bit for you to see the options of bath salts. As you expected, there is a wide variety of scents. Floral aromas such as lavender, rose, cherry blossom, and vanilla. There is also a selection of sweet scents, like strawberry and apple, while at the same time, there are some muskier, darker scents, like cinnamon and sandalwood.

You have no say in your hell. You don’t want a say in your hell.

You pick up the narrow periwinkle flask labeled as lavender with shaking hands. As the warm water in the tub fills your bathroom with the sweet smell of lavender, you hear Chrollo speak up from behind you.

“Good choice, love.” He says, his voice filled with anticipation as he speaks. “Now then, I think it is about time for you to give me that bath.”

You hate how you automatically nod, and how Chorollo coos as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

*~*~*~*

You still have trouble having baths in the village bathhouse because of him. You have trouble doing a lot of things you had no problem doing before. You sometimes wake up and because of Sebaste’s dark hair and white skin, you mistake him for Chrollo for a few moments of drowsiness and almost cry and scream. When you are brushing your hair, you style it the way you like it but almost consider putting it in a style Chrollo likes, just in case you see him that day out of pure chance and bad luck. Whenever you see a book that used to be on Chrollo’s shelves, you almost buy it or borrow it so you can burn it later.

*~*~*~*

“What are you looking for, dollface? Treasure? Get rich quick schemes, history?” a voice, still trying to be cordial but curiosity and wandering eyes overtook it halfway.

The faux leather furniture squeaks slightly as it is pushed down a bit by you sitting on it. You try to adjust yourself as you sit down on your butt, crossing your legs. ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me is playing from the small radio, the audio is slightly too quiet for you to make out what part the song is at, and also because of how loud the construction is outside.

“You are a Hunter, aren’t you?” You lean in slightly and make direct eye contact with him, putting on a slight smile. “I would like to know more about a certain Spider if you catch what I am saying.”

You hate how the man looks at you, confusion clear on his face. You knew it would be risky coming here, but you have no other options.

“Why them?”

You place a large bag filled with coins on the table. “The thirty thousand Jenny fee to talk to you, along with a million for keeping silent about this.” You now see the man’s eyes glitter with greed as he smirks. Some people were just too easy. This feels like child’s play compared to Chrollo with the lengths you would have to go to manipulate him. “Feel free to count it if you wish. I will not stop you.”

“Nah. I want to get straight to business if you don’t mind.”

“Alright then. What do you know about them? Tell me everything.”

The man leans back and looks at the cracked ceiling. “Just be warned, pretty little lady, if they come after you it’s not my fault. You’re asking for trouble.”

You’re annoyed at him keep calling you pet names. You want to slap him. You want to say you would rather not be here at all. But you can’t.

You can’t because it’s useless and all of your progress would be ruined.

“Just one sec.”

He takes another drag of his cigar and exhales, the smoke erupting from his nose onto your face and almost making you loudly cough.

“I’ll tell you.” He smiles, the cigar still wedged between his two golden teeth. “You young ones are so dumb. You aren’t even a Hunter, dollface.”

His grimy voice is like nails on a chalkboard to you. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and his finger taps on it, making some of the burnt parts fall onto the ashtray. He hums again. You just want your information so you can go. You don’t want to do small talk, especially with this prick.

You nod, still not talking. His grin widens at that. He raises one of his hands and a man in a suit and sunglasses comes out of the shadows and hands him a folder, leaving straight afterward without making a sound. So you have unwanted company.

You almost let out a sigh then. The man whistles a tune unfamiliar to you as he looks through the file. He then throws it in an uncaring way towards your side of the table, the folder letting out a slight thump as the paper makes contact with the wood. He whistles a bit more and puts one of his legs over the other. He sighs and your disdain for him only increases by then.

He leans toward and taps on the document inside, some of his cigar ashes staining it.

He grabs the bottle of liqueur beside him and pours some into his shot glass, his many golden rings shining underneath the dimmed lights. "Here is all the information we have on them. It is troublesome how little we know about them."

Your eyes are full of annoyance, but you manage to keep your calm. You lean forward and read through the paper in front of you. You have to do this. You have to do this to make sure that your freedom is everlasting.

To read the entire page took only a few minutes at most, the man being truthful in the fact that no Hunter knows them very well despite the Phantom Troupe being much more than infamous.

The man lets out a heavy sigh and leans back in his chair. "Sorry, miss. We know hardly more than you do, but I’ll try to tell you anything else we found out recently."

You want to let out a sigh again. The paper is littered with stains and leaves residue on your fingertips. This is necessary, you tell yourself. Though you just want to leave.

The man clears his throat to get your attention and holds up one of his fingers. "According to my resources, the Spider has recently lost a leg. They quickly gained another to replace it, unfortunately."

It indeed should not be surprising considering how many enemies the Phantom Troupe has, but it is a bit to you.

"We don’t know which one. That’s the most we know of the situation." He stares deeply into your eyes. "I don’t have any other information to give you, I’m afraid."

His eyes wander around your body. Your heart drops slightly as he grabs the folder and closes it.

You don’t stand up, instead briefly gazing at the liqueur bottle. The man smiles more deeply then, and you feel like you are about to throw up. "You know, you’re very pretty, miss. Just beautiful." His hand moves toward you in one brief motion, to which you respond by leaning away, "I don’t bite, no need to be scared." You stand up. "Now, now, dollface. We should talk a bit more, don’t you think? Maybe I can even drive you back to your place later, or mine."

You scrunch your nose in disgust and begin to walk out of the room. He does not physically stop you, but he mumbles insults under his breath. Slut, whore, the more unoriginal ones. You just ignore them and leave.

That guy was an asshole, but at least you got something out of it.

You wonder which Spider has died.

You hope that it was Chrollo, but that would be near impossible.

Chrollo is hardly known about, after all. There was hardly any information about him anywhere; from the news to the people you question and bribe. You don’t know anything about him either, despite being previously a captive of his. Perhaps even Chrollo does not know much about himself, or at least that is what you theorize.

To entirely free oneself from his clutches, one would need to strike a pact with the devil.

*~*~*~*

Sometimes you think you are an escaped ballerina from her music box. You were always in the same position and only did what you were told.

All you have were the walls of the orchestrina and Chrollo. Without him with you in those many penthouses and hotel rooms, you had no one and could speak to no one. Even when you had escaped by shattering your silk-clad, bleeding feet, some small scattered porcelain pieces of you are left behind for him to find.

If you ever told Sebaste the truth, it would all be for nothing, wouldn’t it?

You would be back to being on the run, trying to pick up whatever ceramic drops from you to avoid leaving a path of breadcrumbs that would lead him directly to you. Just one mistake is all it takes, and it would all be over in a flash. You would try to fix it as quickly as you can, but it wouldn’t be enough, because one day his grabbing hands will grab the soles of your feet, and there you will stay forevermore, attached back onto them, never being able to leave his palms.

A few breaths would kick the door down. The windows would rattle. Weeds would sprout in your garden. You would smell cigarette smoke because the palm of your hand would be back to being used as his ashtray. Everything would burn to the ground.

You don’t want that. God, you do not want that. More than anything in this world.

*~*~*~*

There is someone in your home.

There is someone in your home, and you don’t think they are here to kill you.

There is someone in your home, and although you don’t think they are here to kill you, they do not come with the best of intentions either, though.

You think they are in love with you. Love may not be the best to describe it, you think, maybe obsessed or infatuated instead.

Whoever breaks into your home regularly leaves you gifts; flowers, cards, clothes, and other things they know you like. They must have been stalking you for quite a while before doing this because hardly anyone you know knows what your favorite instrument or candle scent is.

Sometimes they go on rants in the letters they send to you once or twice a week. Sometimes they bring you trinkets, usually hairpins or porcelain figurines. One morning you woke to find a bag of coffee grounds, your favorite brand but also quite an expensive one. When you used them that very morning, they praised you greatly with a long note the next day. However, when you refused to eat the slice of strawberry shortcake that was put on your kitchen table and threw it away in your bin, there was no note whatsoever.

You don’t think they cared, or at least didn’t want to let you know they cared. The amount of gifts put in your apartment only increased every time you ignored the last present. They kept getting more and more expensive, too. Whoever is in your home is either filthy rich or does not know how to budget their money well.

Sometimes you hear the lightest of breaths when your back is turned and you are sitting on the sofa, watching a comforting movie. They are fast and good at hiding because whenever you try to catch them in the act there is nothing behind you.

Every time you try to tell someone, they say to just install more security, more locks, cameras, and invest in self-defense lessons and tasers and alarms. You have tried that, and nothing works, the gifts and trinkets keep coming.

No one believes you and your stalker knows it. Every time you try to report it and get shut down, there is a mocking chuckle from behind you when you come back home.

You aren’t alone, you’re with them, but you wish you were because then you would at least be able to rest. You wish you were alone in the dark.

…

There is someone in your home.

There is someone in your home, and you think they want you.

There is someone in your home, and you know you don’t want them.

…

You’re tired. You don’t know how to express it.

It’s nearly midnight and you just want to take out your resentment on something. You just want to be alright. You lock your apartment door behind you and walk from the entrance to your small sitting area. You sit on the couch, ignoring the large box on the table beside it. Instead, you grab the basket of VHS tapes on the floor, shuffling through them with both your hands.

Billy Madison. Perfect. You take it out.

Your fingers tap against the front of the tape, your other hand scratches the back of your head and rubs the back of your neck, and your feet shake.

Your stalker must have turned your lamp on when you were out working, maybe for you to see the gift, because you know you didn’t. You don’t care to address the box or them right now, as you are used to it by now.

You snap the VHS tape in half with both of your hands.

All this world does is hurt you, so who can blame you for wanting to hurt it back?

It was a shitty movie anyway. A horribly written plot. Horribly written characters. You were never really a fan of comedies, especially those with a spoiled rich kid as the protagonist. You were going to throw it out even if you didn’t break the tape. You want to demote that assistant who gave you that as a joke.

But that would be petty, and it was a joke. You just wish he got you Gone with the Wind or The Princess Bride or Romeo and Juliet or something like that instead. You could go for a romance movie right about now, especially one with a forehead kiss. You love forehead kisses.

You throw the smashed VHS tape in the garbage.

You could swear that you heard a chuckle as you did so.

…

There is someone in your home.

There is someone in your home, and they put a gift beside your bed as you sleep.

There is someone in your home, and they put an unused VHS tape with the title ‘Romeo and Juliet' on your bedside table before you could wake up.

There is someone in your home, and they give you a forehead kiss before slithering off again into the dark.

You know they won’t stay there for long, but you foolishly hope that they will.

Dark goldenrod, rich black, gray, baby powder, blood red.

*~*~*~*

There is someone in your home. You are sure of it.

The placement of everything is slightly off.

The perfume bottles and makeup products in your bedroom are slightly tilted, and your figurines are placed in places where you know you didn't put them, like finding your cat music box on your vanity when it is always by your bedside table, and your bed is slightly unmade. You feel a gaze whenever you are at home and when you are just about to fall asleep, you hear the soft clicking of a camera. You hear the floorboards creak, too loud to be your dog’s. You know Sebaste would never do those things because he is in his office all day working, even when you are in bed already.

Your kitchen is dirtier than usual. There are always some fallen, dried leaves on the floor even when neither you nor Sebaste had gone outside that day. Some of your food is missing, like the leftover pancakes you planned on eating. Sebaste claims to have not eaten them, and you know he is telling the truth.

It is not just your paranoia. There is someone in your home, watching you.

That same person is most likely watching you outside your home too. You feel a gaze wherever you are.

Whenever you go to the library to read something, you always feel someone looking at you whenever you are paying attention to the books, turning their gaze away the moment you look around. Whenever you pick up takeout from the local saloon, you feel someone staring at you in the corner, blending in with the rest of the dancing, friendly villagers. Whenever you are at the farmer’s market, you feel a gawker behind you, hiding behind one of the stalls, one filled to the brim with boxes and boxes of produce. Whenever you turn your head as you are walking to your cottage, you hear quickening footsteps, running farther and farther away. Whenever you are in the town’s museum, you can sense someone near you in the same exhibit, pretending to pay attention to the artifacts and not you.

Their eyes feel intense like you are made of gold. Something sellable at an auction or something to be stuffed into a penthouse and never see the light of day again. Within your blood flows aureate brilliance to them. You are something to be used, to be fed to the wolves.

You found a few muddy footprints in the bathroom coming from the window above it a few days ago. They are too big and too misshapen to be your dog’s, and they don’t look like the footprints that Sebastian's sneakers leave behind. You clean it up with a mop and some spray. As much as you want to be, you cannot say you are exactly afraid, but a few tiers below that.

You are cautious, sure. You make sure your doors and windows are locked before going to sleep now as well as double checking them in the middle of the night. You cannot say you are afraid, though. You are plotting to catch them in the act, and you don’t think someone afraid would confront their stalker.

You keep doing your usual routine. Wake up, boil water for coffee, wash your face and brush your teeth, make coffee and breakfast, and eat said breakfast. You prefer this life to the one you ran away from by a landslide, still, even though your stalker is somewhat ruining it. Chrollo would treat you like a glorified dog.

Sit, stay, and roll over.

Good girl.

Here is a treat.

You think Sebaste is the only one keeping you from snapping and hunting down your gawker with a bow and ax. Ironically, he still doesn’t know about them. But that’s alright with you. You prefer it.

His routine mirrors yours. He makes coffee for you some days. He eats with you. He walks the dog with you. Then he goes to his office to work.

This is a life you are happy with. You aren’t going to let your stalker ruin that for you.

You are not going to tell Sebaste either. It is much better if you handle this problem on your own. Solving problems on your own is what you are used to, after all. Sebaste could be in danger if you tell him. You’re in danger, and you don’t want him to share your fate more than he already is.

Sebaste is the one person in this world you can trust wholeheartedly. You want to protect him, and you would give up everything if it meant he would be happy and safe. So, you buy a taser, some pepper spray, and a pullable alarm, and learn how to hold your keys in just the right way so you could be able to use them as weapons in case your confrontation with your stalker goes sour.

You have planned what to do with your stalker if things do go as you intended. An abandoned shed, a chair, zip ties, and some… equipment if they do not tell you everything they know right away.

*~*~*~*

Once upon a time, there was a princess who had a terrible curse placed upon her by a witch when she was an infant. Everything she touched would die in but a few moments. One day, she got tired of living alone on the outskirts of her kingdom, banished when she was near adulthood, and set out into the woods to search for someone to be her first-ever friend.

However, what she discovered was a malevolent man exuding an overwhelming aura of greed.

She hated him. She hated him with all her being, from how he looked to how he spoke to how he treated her; everything he did she disliked.

So, a few days after meeting him in the forest behind her cottage, the princess asked him to touch her face. He did, gently caressing her cheek with his palm and fingers. As his hand made contact with her delicate visage, the princess gently shut her eyes and silently counted to five. But when the princess opened her eyes, she was horrified by the sight in front of her.

The stranger was still there, alive.

…

The unexpected visitor revealed himself as King Death, who is in relentless pursuit of a bride who embodies purity and possesses a power comparable to his own.

"To discover an angel as calm and radiant as the morning doves and dew is an immense stroke of fortune."

Uttering these words, he ensnared her with a gaze as binding as a wedding vow, his eyes devoid of light and depth, unlike anything the princess had witnessed in her secluded little forest. Without delay, he then accomplished his task with an air of satisfaction.

…

Princess Blossom bemoans her unfortunate circumstance, trapped in a desolate garden devoid of life and sunshine. “Do you have not an ounce of mercy for me or anyone?"

Across from her, King Death relishes in the corpse beneath his feet, a lifeless dove's remains, its once pristine white feathers now drenched in crimson, reminiscent of cherry wine. “If you think a bird is beautiful, just wait until you find it dead, dearly beloved by life itself until its last breath.”

…

In the palm of King Death rests a delicate flower in bloom. In a casket adorned with white wisterias lies his cherished bride, eternally his. "A blossom as lovely as you, my rose, should not wither away so easily." Her eyes exude a captivating beauty, a reflection of innocence mingled with fear. "What troubles you, causing such tremors? It cannot be the chill in the air." Though she trembles with fear, he hungrily consumes her terror as the flowers around her wilt.

…

“The nearer you are, the more I break! Have you always been this cruel to us mortals?” Princess Blossom bangs on the wood above her, the coffin sealed shut and buried six feet underneath the beautiful grass, stars, and flowers. She hears someone coming to dig her out, but that hope is replaced with fear as soon as she realizes the sound is coming from beneath her. This is King Death’s reply to her question; to take her to the underworld where only his eyes will see his radiant queen forevermore.

*~*~*~*

It’s necessary, you tell yourself. If there was any other path you could follow, you would have taken it. At least, you think you would have.

Your stalker follows you everywhere. You know it, they know it, but Sebaste doesn’t know it. They probably have seen you in the abandoned shed preparing everything, and either are preparing themselves for confrontation or not taking you seriously.

You hope, for their sake, that they are doing the former. You hope, for their sake, that they will simply tell you all they know without you even bringing them to the shed. You hope, for their sake, that they will simply do that. But you know it won’t be that easy. Either this person is obsessed with you or was paid to follow you.

If your stalker indeed fits into the latter category, they are certainly in for an unpleasant surprise. You won’t let them get away. You won’t let them do anything other than cry, say what they know, and beg for mercy. Eventually, they will have no voice box to scream with, and only blood will come out of their mouth instead of any sound.

You will make sure of it.

You made a vow with yourself to make sure of it.

You have no choice other than to be cruel. You know that, and you hope your follower knows it too. It would be far less trouble for either of you that way.

You have to protect yourself and Sebaste, no matter the cost. You love him too much to lose him. He is in the house and you are outside, defending him. You will do anything to make sure he is alright.

So, you wait. You wait for hours.

There is someone outside your home.

You are sure of it.

You are going to confront them here and now.

You aren’t afraid. You are merely cautious. You don’t want Sebaste to hear any struggling or cries.

Through the window, you smell warm, fresh coffee being brewed in the French press. Sebaste has always had a bad habit of drinking coffee late at night. But it’s alright, he most likely has to work a bit more anyway.

You wait until your thoughts go numb with a lack of sleep. You slap yourself in the face, hard, to keep yourself awake.

*~*~*~*

If one were to compare, this penthouse resembles a work of art in a museum.

It is untouched by dirt and if the small flames of the candles on the table where the television is placed didn’t move from side to side, you would forget anything aside from you and Chrollo could move. Everything shares the same color palette, and there are no warm hues aside from the roses on the vanity in the bedroom and modest fires. Rose ebony, gunmetal, reseda green, silver, periwinkle. Black. Black, black, black, like one day someone decided to cover the counters, walls, and chairs in soot or charcoal.

It is like whoever designed this had won a lifetime supply of ink paint and decided to use it in different concentrations. Rich on the desks and the vanity, but lighter in some areas like the walls, showing designs of olive roses. The farthest you can go here is to the balcony or lean on the door of the entrance like you could pass through it like a portal if you wished hard enough. You cannot jump from the porch, if you remember correctly the room number is 20008. You are twenty floors off the ground, and you know that you cannot survive a plunge from that high up.

You feel like a canary in a hanging birdcage.

You can only tweet and look pretty. You cannot leave unless your captor is there with you every step of the way. You are only allowed to do what you are told to do and not what you want to do.

This is an impeccable, foolproof, ideal enclosure for any imprisoner.

All is flawlessly pristine, to the point of nausea for anyone trapped inside.

You can only chitter and peep like the baby bird you are forced to be. You can only be cradled within suffocatingly loving arms. Chrollo is like your shadow, following you to every part of this place, treating you like a porcelain doll or a pet. You don’t dare act outside of the role you were given because then you know your detainer won’t be pleased with you and your chances of escape will be even lower than they already are.

“Dearest?”

There is that sickeningly sweet voice again, from beside you. He does not know how to shut up, not that you would bother telling him such. You are here, in his domain and his clothes and eating his food. You have no say here, and he knows it.

“Yes?”

You try your best to replicate the tone of a doting, little lover. You don’t fiddle with the skirt of the short dress you were given. According to your kidnapper, your solitary pair of jeans and single hoodie has ‘vanished under enigmatic circumstances’ and thus gave you this attire as compensation. Asshole.

You are waltzing whether you like it or not.

It is how you act that chooses whether you are pulled with puppet strings or not, though.

“You look beautiful.” His tone is so sincere that it almost induces a nauseating urge to vomit directly onto him. “So beautiful.”

You feel like a statue only brought here to be gawked at. He is always touching you in some way, most of the time it is your thighs that are held captive by being caressed with hands akin to velvet. You let him because what else can you do? You would want nothing more than to push him away and run out the door but you simply cannot. You are trapped here, and using Chrollo with honeyed words and passionate kisses is your only key out. You cannot stay in this consolidated coop any longer or you will break.

If you falter, you will never get out of here.

If he catches you in the act of escaping, you will never be free. The silk restraints will be replaced with shackles. A mile of running only means an inch of a chance of escaping. You don’t want to die here. You don’t want to die with rotting, choking hands around your neck.

As you expected, Chrollo’s hand squeezes your inner thigh. “Thank you, Chrollo.”

From the look in his eyes, you can tell he wants so much more than just those words.

*~*~*~*

Footsteps. Calm, poised ones. There is no sound of stray branches snapping or dead leaves crunching. Footsteps of one who knows what you plan to do.

You do not recognize him. His eyes are as bright as gold yet as hungry as a wolf’s, unblinking. If he was a word, it would be dangerous, in bold, yellow, large, lit letters.

His hair is as pink as bubblegum. His nails are quite long, pointed, and painted black. He has a teal star on one of his cheeks and a yellow teardrop on the other. With his mere presence, he towers over you in height and strength and everything else possible. He is as odd-looking as a clown, you note to yourself.

“I had heard the Spider had lost and gained a leg.” You say as the grip on your knife gets much stronger than before. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Correct, my dear.”

“Which one did you replace?”

“Fourth.”

“So Omokage then.”

“I think. Can’t recall right now.”

You scoff at that. “Can’t recall, huh?” The stranger’s grin stays on like a sticker of a smile that was placed on his face where his actual one would be.

“It doesn’t matter who died, I defeated them and that is all that matters. There is no use in remembering the name of a rotting corpse.”

“I would thank you, but you have the same mission as he probably did.”

“Whether you like me or not does not matter either, I am here either way.” One, two steps closer. “I am here either way and there is nothing you can do about it, my dear.”

“I never liked Omokage, anyway. He always treated Luna so poorly.”

“Who?”

“The captive that was forced to be his doll of some sort. Though I assume she is dead by now, right?”

The man shrugs his shoulders and laughs. “Probably.”

“Was wherever you all buried her marked if somebody even buried her at all?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I do remember something about a body being put in a dug-out hole by Machi.”

At least she was given that, you guess. “How did she look?”

“There was hardly a body to bury if I remember correctly. It looked like someone took a skeleton and put leather over it.” Another amused chuckle.

“So she starved to death then. Slow and painful and probably chained up. He always restrained and gagged her before he left, after all.”

The man yawns, disinterested. He is not even paying attention, is he?

“If you ever find out where her grave is, please put a jasmine flower on it for me. Jasmines were her favorite.”

“If I remember. Why are you asking so much about her anyway?”

*~*~*~*

Luna is kind to you, so kind. Despite being taken by such a monster that treats her so horribly, she still manages to smile whenever she talks to you, albeit how rare those times were. You remember one time she wore a turtleneck, the only one she was allowed to wear according to Chrollo, to cover the bruises on her neck, arms, and collarbone. Another time she wore a surgical mask, though because of how bright the teal color was it did the opposite of what Luna wanted it to do; not attract more attention to her face. Omokage only let her wear it because he thought it would “humble her”, whatever that fucking meant. Luna never hit him or at the very least tried not to, even when he broke two of her fingers in front of you. It was a punishment for asking for five more minutes to chat with you.

“It will all be okay.” It is a repeated saying of hers.

“I know it will.” She would always answer that when you asked how she knew that things would get better. She repeats the saying and her answer both to you and to herself when the times get tougher than they usually are for her. She looked out for you and tried to make your situation better by telling Chrollo how good you were to her. Omokage only ignored and glared at you when you tried to do the same for her. You hate Omokage. You do, with all your being. You hated him more than you did all the other Troupe members.

You hated Omokage more than Chrollo even, which is quite the accomplishment if you say so yourself.

Chrollo thinks it is funny. At least you think he does. Maybe that is why you see Luna more than you do the other “Webs”, as you captives are named.

“It’s okay if he hurts me, I won’t hit him back. Violence is not the answer, it only creates more.” She grinned as she said that, one of her front teeth missing. “He’ll die one day and then I will be free.” It is clear to you that if she continues to think that way, she will break. “You’ll be there to tell Number Zero to free me, right? Then I can go home.”

She is always such an optimist. It’s a trait you wish you had. You almost wish you could trade places with her because at least Chrollo does not treat you as his punching bag, though you suppose being his plaything isn’t much better.

“I’ll do the same for you if Number Zero dies. At least then one of us would be free, either way, the ball rolls.” Her light is fading, you can tell by how she looks at you, how her blue eyes don’t shine as much as they used to. “I’ll do anything to make sure he listens.” She is going to break soon. You want so badly to stop it. You want to save her. But you can’t. “I mean it. I’ll do anything if it means you’ll be free.”

You know she means it, and it brings you so much more pain than if she didn’t. She unintentionally twists her knife further into your heart

“It will all be okay. I want you all to be happy. You all deserve it.” You want to tell her that she does, more than you do. She deserves a good life, a normal life. “We are friends, aren’t we?” You can’t bear to tell her the truth of what will happen if either Omokage or Chrollo dies. “Friends look out for each other.”

She placed a kiss on your forehead then, before Omokage could stop her. She was dragged back by him pulling on her long sable hair as she cried out in pain. He called her a whore and pulled her out of the room. Neither she nor Omokage came back to the room that day.

*~*~*~*

“She was so sweet. She didn’t deserve to die like that at all.”

“I am Hisoka, by the way.” He bows, the smirk still being plastered on his face without faltering.

You take a few steps back as he approaches further, trying to remain some distance apart from him. “Stay back.” Hisoka hums and merely comes closer.

“If the description I was given and what you know checks out, you must be [First]. At least, I hope that’s who you are, for your sake.” He smiles and he moves forward. “You have certainly been going on a few little adventures, haven’t you?”

“...Yes.” He stares down at you. You know that to him; you are a mere rubber toy to twist until your head pops off.

His gaze shifts to your house, behind you. “You certainly are resourceful; I’ll give you that. The life you have built for yourself was made from nothing. Quite admirable.”

“Do you mean that?” You ask, your voice both cold and inquiring as to why one of the members of the Phantom Troupe is here, in front of you and your house. But you already knew the answer.

“I do.” His voice seems somewhat truthful, but you can tell he wants more.

“Why are you here, Number Four?”

“Now, now. No need to be so aggressive.” He puts his hands up in a mockery of surrendering as he goes back to looking down on you. With the dying trees and debris behind him, he sticks out like a sore thumb. “I have a favor to ask of you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The way he looks at you, a look of one that is about to skin a poor, defenseless doe.

“What kind?”

“Simple. Tell me all you know about the boss.”

“What would I get in exchange for telling you such information?”

“I will not tell the other Troupe members of your location.”

“Is that a threat, Number Four?”

“Oh, no, it is not a threat. It is a potential promise if you don’t listen. While you are at it, you can also tell me about yourself. I believe we haven’t had an actual conversation before if the boss told me the truth that you have been on the run from him for more than two years.”

“Don’t be greedy, Number Four.”

“Oh, no.” Hisoka grins with a proud smile. “I believe you are the one being greedy, my dear.”

“...you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“You ran away from a life of luxury and comfort. Surely you feel at least somewhat foolish for doing such a thing?”

“Perhaps.”

“The boss is quite displeased with you, though I assume you know that by now. He has been searching high and low all over for you.”

“I’m quite aware, Number Four. We both know I don’t intend to go back.”

He nods and hums. “I know. That is why if you still want to play house with your precious boy toy, you’ll do what I say.”

You scoff and look to the side. “He is not… just a plaything. He is different.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He looks off to the woods. “Plus, I believe there is a rat in your midst. I am sure you have noticed. If you tell me what you know, I’ll trap him for you.”

“You mean you’re not…” Your posture slightly relaxes, but soon firms up once again when you realize that you have two people following you now; Hisoka and your mysterious stalker.

“No. I’m not. So, will you accept my offer, darling?”

“Why does such information matter to you?”

Hisoka shakes his head, still smiling. “That doesn’t concern you, my dear. Now, tell me what you know if you don’t want the rest of the Troupe being here in a matter of mere hours.”

You’re happy here.

You’re happy here, being independent once again. You’re happy here, having stability and not fearing a sudden, gruesome death where you die alone with no one but your captor. You’re happy here, being able to find some humanity within yourself.

You’re happy here with Sebaste.

You’re happy here with Sebaste, who is in the house, blissfully unaware of the laurel crown placed on your head, its thorns digging deep into your skull and dying the tips of it crimson red. He doesn’t know of the invisible scars that mark your body, a gift from the very pits of hell’s flames.

He will remain in that place, never knowing of anything you have buried underground.

He will stay, no matter the cost you will have to pay.

You’re happy here with Sebaste, and you’re not going to let anyone take it away from you.

“Do we have a deal?”

The moment your lips part, the words that escape your mouth are the ones Hisoka longs to hear.

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #hxh #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hier encore.#ultraviolet.#author aya

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lady-ashfade · 11 months

Note

Hello love, it’s 🦂-Anon here again and I just adored your latest fics.

I have been thinking of the crows with more hybrids readers and it just clouds my thoughts. Could we get something with yandere crows giving a neko reader a collar? (Also I hope we can get more bunny reader)

Yandere Six Of Crows x Fem!Neko reader. Hc’s

Yandere Six Of Crows x Fem!Neko reader. (Romantic)

I had this exact idea too! I wanted to do it with the bunny reader but i got more plans for it! So hopefully I can finish it.

I will do so much more if you guys want. Puppy, fox, heck even a spider reader. This is just so fun.

Warnings: Collaring, Pet relationships, obsession, protective, little suggestive…So minors go away or don’t interact, but nothing bad.

You must really love being the center of attention don’t you? It was so easy to get their eyes focused on you, even when you weren’t trying to.

You could just be sitting down with a book and facing away from them, but here they are literally just loving how you breathed. The group praised every little thing you did, they are your own cheer team.

But they were so overbearing. You had no freedom at all, and I mean at all. You want to go downstairs into the club? At least one of them has to be close to you. You want to go for a walk? Two group buddies follow you.

Just think, you, their little baby were to get hurt? They could bare the thought- in fact they couldn’t fathom it.

You have a bed in all the rooms, each of theirs bedroom or offices. I mean of course you’re more then welcome to sleep with time but just encase.

Their hands constantly touch you. Or they just watch your tail wag around in whatever mood you are in. They melt when your ears flicker, like Nina almost died once. But you were a Neko, which the cat side of you just had the urge to bite back.

So they have spray bottles.

I can see them having bite marks on their hands at all times. But you did feel bad about it.

Punishment wasn’t that often because you were obedient for the most part. But when you would stare at them and just knock something over, or back sass them- Or even hiss at them.

There are a few different approaches. 1) of course the spray bottle, 2) Ten minutes in a cage, 3) Being forced to go for a walk with a leash attached to your collar, 4) Or you will be locked up for a few days in your room. Though the last one was only when you fought back. And they felt bad about it but you had to learn. But you weren’t starved or anything, you just couldn’t have any company. Just you and the room.

But let’s talk about what you asked for, your collar.

It had to be perfect just for you. It was black leather straps that wound wrap around your throat, a metal circle in the center that had a hook of a small bell. And it had room for something to be attached, like a leash.

You weren’t aloud to take it off unless you asked, or you’d be punished.

They couldn’t stop but stare each time they saw you and the collar that rested on your skin. You belonged to them, they had marked their territory. It filled them with pride to know they could be the ones to collar you.

Everywhere you went the bell rang and they could hear you a mile away. The jingle got them excited each time because you were close.

You could take so many cat naps on their laps and they wouldn’t move for hours. Kaz loved it when you would just stay with him while he works. Your peaceful breaths made him calm, even he would pet your head.

Of course they wouldn’t let anyone get to close. You remember one day when you went into the bar without one of them close too you, one thing lead to another and a drunk man found you.

He was taken away and beaten to death by Kaz’s cane. Kaz didn’t care if anyone saw, it would send out a message that you weren’t to be approached.

Kinda spicy passed this line.

You were walked at times with the leash, mostly by kaz or Nina when you’d acted up. It was embarrassing and you cried the whole time, no matter how much you struggled they just tugged you through the streets. They didn’t try and hide you, in fact they wanted people to stare at you because then you’d cry even harder of embarrassment and think twice before disobeying them.

They would hook their fingers in the loop and tug you forward to kiss you, they enjoyed your blush and purring you got.

They knew how to massage your cat like features to make you whimper out. Your tail was very sensitive and they enjoyed when your voice got high when they tugged on the fluff. You think they care if they are out in public?

No. It doesn’t matter where you guys are, if it’s just waving in front of them it doesn’t matter where they are. They are touching you. I think Jesper is the one to do it the most because he finds it fun to tease.

Wylan is however the softest one, but the clingiest. He would steal you away all the time so you could just be with him, one time the others had to drag you out his lab because he didn’t want you to leave. He also likes it when you would listen to his music or curl up at his side.

I can see you trying to climb matthias all the time because he’s so tall and you know he finds it a bit annoying. But don’t let the tough man fool you, he fucking loves it. Don’t tell the others but he hides treats for you all over.

Inej can take hours of her day just watching you and kaz has to remember her she has a job to do. I think she might kill anyone that looks at you, her mind thinks they would steal you away and put you in the menagerie. Making her go feral and protective . She isn’t as bad as the rest with the touches and she likes it when you come to her first. She would never pull on your trail or ears for fun, unless you asks for it of course but she doesn’t want to hurt you.

But even she can’t stop herself from pulling you around by your collar to hear you squeal and have to follow her around.

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more-cardigan-than-woman · 9 months

Text

Your Two Favourite People

Summary: You and Jay have been seeing Roy for almost a year now. But last month he was called back to Star City to help Ollie deal with something. Jason's been coping in his way, but thank goodness Roy is finally home.

Jason Todd x Reader x Roy Harper

3.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+. threesome, oral, bi boys, poly, mmf, teasing, but stuff, swearing, pet names.

The First time.

“Hi Angel,” Roy's husky voice peppers over your shoulder. Somehow audible over the loud as fuck orchestra that's ringing in your ears, “You miss me?”

“Roy!” you spin, turning around and jumping up to throw your arms around his neck, “You're back!”

“So, you did miss me?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into another hug.

“Yes, so fucking much!” you press a kiss into his cheek, his eyes, his neck, “Not as much as Jay,” you scan the crowd looking for your broody ass boyfriend, “he’s been very mopey since you went back to Star City.”

“I knew he cared.”

“Even if he doesn’t show it,” you agree, taking him by the hand, “We gotta go find him.”

“I got an idea about where he might be.” He takes the lead, smiling as you pass Grayson and Kori. “You guys seen Jay?”

“Little Wing is in his nest.” Dick comments, turning back to Kori. Like you’re suppose to know what that means but Roy hasn’t slowed down so he must know what the fuck Grayson is on about.

“Where is his nest?” you ask Roy who is leading you from the ballroom and up the stairs of the manor, “Why does he have a nest? And why don't I know about it?”

“He only uses it when he’s here. It's where he goes to hide.”

You make it all the way up the stairs, stopping and turning several times. When you make it out of view from the party goers Roy's fingers grip at your cheeks, his lips sinking into yours and you feel a tiny part of your worries melt away. “I missed you, Angel.” he kisses you again, “Missed these pretty lips.” When he finally drags himself away from you, he motions to the tiny door, “Roy, there's no way he fit through there.”

“He did,” opening the door he gestures for you to go inside, before following you in and locking the door behind you.

“Jay, honey!” you call out as you stand finding the roof is lifting up, “You in here?”

“Kitten?” a distance voice calls back, “how’d you find me?”

“Maybe some of your family's detective skills rubbed off on me.” you turn, winking at Roy, placing a finger over your lips. He doesn’t reply, so you keep moving forward. Cobwebs catch in your hair, dust gathers on your fingers as you inch yourself towards the oncoming light.

You step out of the dark corridor, finding yourself in a medium sized room. A large window filters the moonlight through the sheer curtains. It illuminates the hulking figure sat on the large leather couch with a glass full of molten liquid swirling around. You gesture for Roy to stay quiet in the doorway. “Why you hiding up here?” you ask him as you round the couch and see the distance in his eyes, “Jason?”

“What are you doing up here, Kitten?” his voice miles away, he hasn't even looked at you, “Were you not enjoying the party?”

“It's not the same without you and I-”

“You found someone else to talk to?”

“Excuse me?”

“Saw you talking with Fox,” he shrugs, “you guys seemed really chummy.”

“You’re dads friend? That why you're up here moping?” you cast a glance over at Roy and he just shrugs, he’s going to be no help, “Fine,” rolling your eyes at Jason, you turn and he still doesn't look up, “You're right. I did find someone else to talk to,” you drop the straps of your dress down as you walk over to Roy. His eyes soaking in your sultry strut while occasionally flicking over to the back of Jason's head.

“You better not have brought that old shit-” his voice stops and Roy's eyes go wide as you approach him, shimmying out of your dress. Roy can't seem to decide if he wants to stare at you or the way Jason is looking back at him. Stepping into the circle of Roy's arms, his fingertips graze up your hips bringing you close with a smile as you hear Jason's feet hit the ground.

“Did he get up?” you whisper to Roy, nudging his nose with yours.

“Yes, Angel.” Roy's hands slip up your back, his eyes locked with Jason s as his fingers circle the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss.

“He-” you try to talk as Roy interrupts you with a kiss and you pour all of yourself into it.

“He’s watching,” he smiles into your mouth, his hand slipping down to your thigh, to your ass, “think we can get him to move?” he lips curving in a way that you always read as mischief, “Jump, Angel.”

You jump a little and Roy catches you in his arms, his fingers digging into your ass, “I love how you feel against me.”

“I want you.” your fingers snake in between you, popping the buttons on Roy's shirt open.

“What are you two doing?” Jason finally chimes in.

“You didn’t wanna play,” you tangle your fingers into Roy's hair, while he walks you towards the couch “So, I found someone else to play with.” keeping your eyes on Roy as he sits beside where Jason is standing.

“You can play with me whenever you want, Angel.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Star City?” Jason asks, staring down at the two of you, “Can you stop? Can we talk about this?”

“No,” Roy's hands slip up cupping your tits, “I need this, so come here or fuck off,”

“Jay,” you whine when his hand grips at your hair and yanks your face back, “Get off him, Kitten.” you look to Roy for help, but the coward just stares back, grinning at you both.

“Don’t be mad at Roy,” you say as you crawl from Roy's lap and onto the ground.

“I’m not, sit still.” he orders you, stepping around you to lean down over Roy, his hand cupping his jaw so softly as he presses them both down into the couch, “You were gone to long,” he moans into Roy's mouth, his hands palming at his face, his legs and every inch of him that he can reach.

“Missed you too,” Roy smiles, his hand reaching out for yours. But you shake your head, your eyes flicking towards Jason. He moves his hands fiddling with Jason's belt and attempting to get his pants off. “Angel help me get his pants off.” Roy pushes on his shoulders, making Jason sit.

“You heard him, Kitten.” Jason stares down at you, “Take them off.”

Your hands move fast, pulling his belt free and slipping his pants down his thick thighs. Resting back on your legs you wait for your next instruction, your eyes following the path of Roy's hands over Jason's thick body, your body growing more and more restless with every movement.

“She looks so sad, Jay,” Roy moves to sit behind Jason, kissing at the tender spot on his neck, “How could you be angry at such a pretty girl?”

“Easily, but I’m not angry,” his gaze softens and you can tell he means it. Unable to help the smile that spreads over your face when Jason twitches as Roy's hand wraps around his cock.

"Hear that, he's not angry." Roy looks up at you, "he's just a little pouty. Why don't you help me make him feel good?"

You shuffle forward, your hands spaying out on Jason's thighs as you stare up at him. Roy angles Jason's cock towards your mouth, Jason's eyes watching as you both play with him. Your mouth stretches wide as Jason's cock slips in and you let out a soft moan at the taste of him.

"Roy," Jason's hand reaches out for Roy, tugging him up beside him.

"Jason."

"Take your pants off."

"What about her?" Roy's hand rakes through your hair, pushing you deeper onto Jason's cock.

"She's ok. Aren't you kitten?" You nod in response, "see she's fine. You wanna touch yourself for me?" Your eyes almost pop out of your head with how quickly he shoves your mouth back on him when you try to answer, "go on then. Touch yourself for us."

"She's so beautiful." Roy whispers in Jason's ear, as his hands wrap around his middle, his lips littering soft kisses on his neck, "and you smell fucking divine," his cock rubs into Jason's ass cheek as Jason leans back into him, “perfect in my hands,” he squeezes down on his side and feels his legs start to buckle, "you're doing to good of a job there, Angel." Roy licks up the vein protruding from Jason's neck, "he's going to fall over." His strong arm holds tight around Jason's stomach, "tell her to stop."

"I don't want her to," Jason moans his hands tightening on your hair, "I love your mouth, Kitten."

"Tell her to stop, Jason."

"Kitten." He tries to resist, but pulls you off him, his legs shaking as he and Roy fall back into the couch.

"You alright, Angel?" Roy asks you, your fingers still buried in your pussy.

"I'm so happy you're back." You smile, your hand between your legs as your spit starts to drip down your cheek.

"Messy messy Kitten," Jason takes your hand, helps you up onto the couch, "Let Roy clean you up before you stain the carpet."

"Angel," Roy says in a low tone, his fingers digging into your thighs and spreading them apart, "Fuck, you smell so good." He takes a lick of your pussy, shivering, "give a guy a warning Jay, jesus." He laughs, turning his head to Jason who is rubbing his fingers over Roy's ass.

"Roy, please." You plead adjusting your elbows so you can see them better.

"Did you miss my tongue Angel?"

"I did."

"Good girl," Roy moans, leaning his face into your pussy and lapping at the cum falling from you.

"Is he doing a good job, Kitten?" Jason asks you, his eyes fixed on Roy's head between your legs, "should I reward him?"

"Yes, Jay. Such a good job," your nails bite into the couch cushion trying to keep you from squirming as Roy starts to suck on your clit.

Jason's hand slips under Roys hips and you feel him moan into you. His hips gyrating as his tongue reaches inside you, his fingers digging into your thighs as your legs start to lock.

"Jay, I'm getting close."

"Cum then, Kitten and we can play with Roy some more."

You white knuckle the couch as your legs strain against Roy's hands. Your hips tilting up to all but pull him into your pussy as you start to gush around his mouth.

"Breath," Jason says, grabbing Roy by the hair and yanking him back.

"Jason I-" he moans butting down on his lip, his back arching back towards Jason and you see the way Jason's hand is wrapped around his cock.

"Look at your face," you smile, wiping some of the cum off Roy's face and slipping it into your mouth, "can I clean him?" You direct the question to Jason.

"Roy," Jason whispers, his voice so deep as he pulls Roy back, his back hitting Jason's chest, "look at me."

Roy turns his head and Jason's lips connect to his, their tongues fighting for dominance as Jason grinds into his ass. It's so fucking hot seeing the way they love each other.

"Kitten," you hear him whisper into Roy's mouth and you're already on your knees shuffling towards them.

"Angel," Roy brings you into their circle, splitting his lips from Jason's as he kisses you.

Jason releases Roy's hair, his hand snaking around your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss.

"My boys," you wrap your arms around Jason's neck holding them both close to you. Jason's knuckles brush over your clit as he continues to stroke Roy's cock.

"You think Roy should make it up to us for being gone so long?" Jason asks you, resting his nose on Roy's shoulder.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think," Jason kisses Roy's neck, his nose nudging at his ear and Roy shivers as Jason breath falls down his neck, "we ought to punish him."

"And me?"

"You want to fuck Roy?" Jason's voice so low, his eyes dark and lust filled as he looks over Roy's shoulder at you.

"Yes."

"Then lay down Kitten. You have to wait though. Because first," his hand slips into the crease of the couch and pulls out a bottle of lube, "I'm going to fuck him." Jason releases Roy's cock, pushing you onto your back, "and you're going to touch yourself."

"Jason," Roy moans, his arm reaching behind him to pull Jason closer to him, "please." He thrusts his cock into the air, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy.

"You want me Roy?" Jason whispers into his ear, "want me to fill you so full of my cock that you can't breathe?" Jason's hand moves, slipping over his dick, spreading the lube up and down his shaft. "Then we can fill her up," his lubed up fingers press into Roy's ass, spreading him open. Roy's hips jerk forward, his hands reaching out for you, but you stay put, only letting him reach your thighs.

"Spread that pussy for me Angel," Roy pants, "I wanna see those dainty fingers go in."

"Yeah, Kitten. Give him a show. Keep him nice and distracted while i- ahhh." Jason can't control his moan as his cock plunges into Roys tight asshole.

Roy's face morphs from pain to pleasure so fast you almost miss it. Your fingers dance over your clit, the sight of them together too much for you as Jason slowly thrusts into Roy. Roy's cock bounces up to his stomach, the swollen tip already leaking pre cum. You thrust your fingers in, desperate from some relief from the spectacular sight in front of you.

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" Jason moans into Roys ear.

"So good." Roy leans back, his nails scraping along your thigh.

"Wanna feel even better?"

"Not," Roy moans, his tongue darting out over his dry lips, "possible."

"I think it is." Jason beckons you, "come Kitten."

"Are you- really?" Roy asks, half lost in his lustful daze.

You bend your tummy over the arm of the couch. Peering over your shoulder at them, smiling when Jason gestures for you to back up into them.

"Think you can handle it, gorgeous?" Jason asks Roy, his hand held at the base of Roy's cock.

"I can take it."

"Yes you can. Back it up, Kitten. If I tell you to move-"

"I'll move." You nod, spreading your pussy open and squirming as Jason swipes Roys cock through you.

"Stop teasing Jay," Roy pants his hips thrusting forward to try and get more of you, moaning as Jason's cock slips a bit out of him.

"Teasing us both." You agree, lifting your hips so that Roy's cock catches in your pussy.

"Alright Kitten," he releases Roy's cock, his own pushing into Roy, thrusting his hips forward and forcing Roy inside of you. Loud moans escape both your lips and you can feel Roy twitching inside of you.

"You ok?" You turn your head, seeing Roy's eyes already rolling back into his head.

"How's he look?" Jason asks, his hands spreading out beside you.

"Happy."

"Good. Fuck, he feels so good." Jason's moan his thrusts mugging harder, making Roy fuck you harder. And you can feel him throbbing inside you.

"Jay I think-"

"I can feel it too. Cum for us Roy."

Roy's cock throbs into you, "please," you cry as he starts to twitch about you, "please Roy."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" he changs, his body moving between you as his load empties inside of you.

Your cries of pleasure are buried in the pillow as Roy collapses on top of you.

"Jay,"

"Kitten."

"He's still hard."

Roy chuckles in your ear, his elbows held right besides your head to keep from crushing you.

"Fuck Angel." He moans into your ear, "you feel this?"

You try to respond, but it just comes out in garbled moans as he slowly fucks his cum into you.

"He's going to cum again for us Kitten. But-" he moans, the noise an indicator of how tightly he's holding on. "-You need to cum."

"I want your cum," Roy says breathless in your ear, "I wanna mix our cum together inside of you." He starts to lazily thrust, making Jason quiver behind him and your whole body feels like it's caught in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Fuck, you're going to-"

"Jay's gonna cum Angel." His hand slips under your tummy, resting just over your pussy letting you grind down onto him, "we need you to cum."

"Ro-" you bite into the cushion as you feel his cum start to drip out if you, around his cock and down your thigh, "jas-" you hand snakes out taking his in yours.

"I can feel- she's-"

"Me to-" Jason moans, his teeth sinking into Roys shoulder to hide his moans.

"Fuck, fuck, fucking-" Roy starts to shake, "you're so tight on me, I can feel you-" your whole body starts to sing as you feel Roy's cock throbbing inside you, his moans and Jason's fill your ears and you start to see lightning as your bliss washes over you.

Roy's breath is light in your ear, Jason's heavy on the other. Your whole body tingles with pleasure as you lay there crushed in your double boyfriend weighted blanket.

You can't keep the smile off your face and when you turn and see Jason smiling down at you and you think you may die of happiness.

"Babe,"

"Yes Kitten."

"Roy's breathing is very slow."

Jason moves, slowly pulling Roy up by the waist and sitting him on his lap. "Can you pass me that pitcher?"

You move fast, ignoring how shaky your legs are as you reach the water. "Is he ok?"

"Yeah," Jason says, softly his fingers pressed into the vein on Roy's neck, "he's just resting."

"Here, try this." You pour some of the water on a stray blanket and rest it on his head.

"Good idea." He says, taking your cheek in his hand and giving you a soft kiss, "Kitten, I. About tonight."

"I know you've been missing Roy, Jay. But I missed him too."

"Sometimes, when he's gone for too long. It's just like-"

"Like he took a piece of you with him? Yeah. Jay, I get it. But you don't have to be alone, I'm here too."

"I know, I'm sorry. I should’ve-"

"I knew you missed me." Roy's eyes flutter open, and he tries to move.

"Why don't you just stay still for a second." Jason says, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

"Let us take care of you."

"Feel like you already did. I've never been more relaxed." Roy smiles gently, pulling you onto his lap on top of Jason.

"True, but we really missed you alot."

"Guess I'll have to stay then."

"Or I'll hold you hostage." Jason slaps his arms around both of you pulling you into him, "Kitten will help me, won't you?"

"Course I will."

“Good girl."

"I missed you both so much," Roy kisses you both so softly, "how long before someone comes looking for us?"

"Just give me five more minutes of this and I'll sneak us out." Jason says, holding you even tighter.

"Sneak us out?" You laugh.

"You don't think there's only one way out of Wayne Manor do you?" your hand brushes the cloth over Roys forehead, before he takes it and starts to clean you up.

“You don’t think there is only one way out of Wayne Manor do you?”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #x reader #jason todd fanfic #reader x red hood #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood

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leahsfiction · 9 months

Text

PALISADE 20: In Their Fear Pt. 1 (00:22:21–00:29:57)

“Well, the good news is that it’s still 3 Grip, which means that—”

“Yeah.”

“—we will have a chance to take care of this.”

“Jack? Take it away.”

Something bad is in the air. Bilat crafts teeter in the sky like anxious flies. The distant sound of heavy ships taking off in great black columns of launch smoke. Everything seems too bright. The day is too warm. The headache sits on your forehead and on your temples.

In Carhaix, someone drops a tray of wine glasses. Pleasure yachts and private transit gather at the closed Portcullis Gate, and as it opens vanish into distant Principality space, passing ship after ship of settlers as they pour into the Palisade System.

In the early afternoon, the sun dims, and a red band of light appears around the middle of it, like a bauble wrapped in a ribbon, or a horrible mirror of the Diadem. It’s dim enough to look at directly, but it still hurts your eyes. There is a whine in the air. Every couple of hours there is a rumble of radiation static, and a corona jets from the surface of the sun.

The animals respond in fear. Birds rise, suddenly alarmed, from the trees, or cower silently in crowded branches. Rabbits and foxes freeze, dumb, in the middle of walkways. Ants rise en masse from cracks in the walls. Rivers seem to run slow, with an algaed stink.

Some of the spies know nothing and continue as usual, keeping their mouths shut, answering questions curtly, bargaining limitedly for clemency. When others see the quality of light in the room change, and the demeanour of the people around them alter—why do the calls to Gucci Garantine keep getting dropped? What was that scream of Nidean engines overhead?—they change their tune quickly. They start making specific bargains. Get me off-world. Get me through the Portcullis Gate and I will tell you anything you want. Or they close their mouths, defiant, eyes up. Millennium Break. You do not know the sharpness of the dagger on which you walk.

Of course this is unproportional, they think. What a waste. We’re in a good place. We know the identity of Hexagon. So they made some gains in the Bontive Valley. So they fucked us up on the Isle of the Broken Key. Small beer. We are the most powerful empire in the galaxy. The blood is in the grip. But the Stargrave, these pissant revolutionaries, are gonna get this whole thing blown up.

Or: they let something slip in their fear. The Stargrave has gone mad. She was on the edge and you fucked it. They say the BIS boss went to stay with her, try and calm her down. They say she makes her staff practice dying. They say she got wind that you were trying to come for her and fled, it only made this malady worse, this is the end of the world.

When the message comes to you—secondhand, of course, the Cause council has seen this first—it shows in grainy low-resolution the pinched face of an aide-de-camp as she turns the camera on. Then she tilts it nauseatingly, the view dips, and we see the only remaining right angle of a small ruined building. It seems to be surrounded by trees. The roof came away long ago; just two brick walls stand, forming the corner in which the Stargrave stands.

She is a blonde woman in her late fifties, maybe her mid sixties. She wears full military regalia. On her right arm, from her hand up to her shoulder, is clamped an unwieldy metal device, somewhere between a leg brace and a trigger mechanism. A leather strap, almost like the bit of a horse’s bridle, with eight buttons on it, crosses the palm of her right hand which faces towards the camera. Beneath the device you can almost see that her right sleeve has been rolled up to the shoulder, or cut neatly, and two IV needles run from its metal armature: one into her upper arm, and one just above her wrist. Her face is very pale; her lips white, pressed tightly together; dull light from the armed sun. She opens her mouth: silent for a second, lips parted. Then the man standing to her right—another aide-de-camp, carrying an assault rifle—speaks.

“Terrorists of Millennium Break. As a result of recent assaults on sovereign holdings in the Bontive Valley and the central transit network of this planet, as well as targeted assaults on her office, the Stargrave has been left with no choice but to arm the stellar combustors entrusted to her in holy power for the preservation of the Divine Principality.”

He takes a shaky breath.

“She has instructed me, in her wisdom, to communicate to you that any attempt to approach the Brecheliant Forest or the stellar combustor units, covertly or otherwise, as well as any attempt on Stargrave Elcessor’s life or liberty, will be met with—will be met with an immediate detonation. Resulting in the destruction of the planet Palisade, the sector designated the Twilight Mirage, and the twenty-three systems within the nearest achievable firebreak.”

“I have also been instructed to inform you that any attempt to seek a loophole, magical or mundane, or otherwise circumvent the terms of this message, will also result in an immediate detonation. The stellar combustors will remain armed until August Righteousness of Jade Kill; Véronique and the Divine Fealty of Rose River; Captain Skelton Knaggs of Carmine Bight; Saint Decario Dicario of Violet Cove; Jesset City of Gray Pond; and Gucci Garantine of Blue Channel turn themselves in to the Bilateral Intercession at the nearest checkpoint. This message will be rebroadcast throughout the Palisade System on the hour and at the half-hour.”

There is a long moment of silence. Then the Stargrave nods imperceptibly; then the aide behind the camera turns it off.

#friends at the table #palisade #palisade spoilers #audio #let me know if the transcript above the cut is too spoilery!

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foxigemini · 1 year

Text

For Eternity

Pairing: Vittorio Toscano (Dead by Daylight) x Female Reader

Summary: You're new in the fog and Vittorio takes you under his wings.

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW!

Author's notes: I fell for this silver fox daddy the moment I saw him. I mean, JUST LOOK AT HIM 😩 So yeah of course I had to write for him (even if nobody is interested to read it). So, here we go. I hope some people enjoy this.

"We got a new one."

All the survivors looked up at Dwight's voice and followed his gaze as a young woman stumbled out of the fog. They only gave her a quick glance before returning to staring into the campfire. Vittorio clenched his jaw and stood up, shaking his head as he walked passed the others to greet the new survivor.

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest and your eyes widened in terror, flickering back and forth as you scanned your surroundings. Where the hell were you? The last thing you remembered was getting lost in the fog in the forest, then...then everything went black and the next thing you knew, you were here. Wherever here was. It kind of looked like the forest you got lost in...

"Hey. Are you okay?"

You jumped at the voice and stared up at the man standing in front of you. You found yourself speechless as you looked into the grey eyes of the sexiest man you'd ever seen. His grey hair was cut in a modern style, with shaved sides and long layers on the top. He was wearing a leather jacket and a red shirt that had a few buttons open, revealing a toned chest with tattoos spread across his skin up to his throat. You frowned as your gaze landed on the blue, glowing vein going down the right side of his neck. What the hell was that...

"Hey. You good?" the man repeated and placed his hand on your shoulder. You jerked at the contact and the man quickly removed his hand.

"Sorry!" you burst out and blushed. "I...I am just...where the hell am I?"

The silver fox smiled bitterly. "Welcome to the fog. I'm Vittorio," he said and reached out his hand. You took it, your hand disappearing in his larger one and you could feel the warmth from it spread through your entire body.

"Y/n," you replied and let go of his hand and gave him a nervous smile before looking around. You noticed a couple of people sitting around a campfire and looked back at Vittorio with a confused frown. "Umm...what is the fog?"

Vittorio smiled and gestured you to follow him. "Come. Let's join the others and we tell you all about it."

You had a hard time believing them at first. But your first trial pushed you right into the horrific nightmare that now was your life. Luckily, Vittorio was there to guide you through it. Helped you figure out how to fix the generators and protected you against the killer. None of the other survivors seemed to bother teaching you how to survive. They only seemed irritated being stuck with a newbie on their team.

"You can sleep here if you want." Vittorio patted the blanket lying on the ground next to him. Feeling your face heat up, you smiled shyly and sat down next to him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice warm and soft with concern.

You shrugged your shoulders and tears welled up in your eyes. You had no fucking idea how to feel, everything felt so unreal, like it was all a bad dream.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," Vittorio said and swept his arms around you, pulling you softly against his chest. "You'll get the hang of things soon."

Feeling the warmth of his body and the safety of his strong arms and firm chest, you let all your emotions free, crying in his embrace until the darkness of sleep claimed your troubled mind.

Vittorio watched your sleeping form as he laid you down next to him. You were so beautiful. So young and innocent. His gaze traveled down the curves of your body covered in a short skirt and a tight top, awakening something inside him he hadn't felt in centuries. Quickly, he averted his eyes and turned away from you, lying down on the side with his back against you, ignoring the pulsing heat of his swelling cock.

You woke up in the morning, covered in a warm blanket. Turning around, you noticed Vittorio was gone and that it was his blanket that was on top of you. You smiled softly and pressed the blanket against your nose, inhaling his sweet scent, before coming to your senses. Fuck, what were you doing? Were you already falling for this guy?

Ignoring your thoughts, you sat up and saw Meg and Nea sitting by the fire.

"Where is Vittorio?"

"In a trial," Nea said shortly.

A surge of panic rushed through your belly before you remembered what he told you yesterday. That nobody really dies in the trials. That you all end up here again. In the same way, you don't get hungry or cold anymore.

"So, what do you guys do around here when you're not in a trial?"

Meg shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing."

"Nothing? You guys just sit here?"

Both Nea and Meg shrugged their shoulders and you sighed. They've been here for so long that they'd become lackadaisical.

"Well, I'm going to take a look around," you said and stood up. There wasn't much to see. Just the campfire and the surrounding forest, which you couldn't explore very deeply. A few minutes in, you found yourself standing in the clearing of the campfire again. You bit your lip, pushing your fear and tears away. So this was your life now? Living trapped in a forest, doomed in a never-ending loop of trials, where your only glimmer of hope was the possibility of escaping alive.

Time moved strangely in the fog. You didn't know if it was day or night and slept whenever you were tired.

"What year is it? Out there?" Vittorio asked one day when the two of you sat by a river in the forest, just a few meters away from the border where you would wind up in the campfire again. The two of you often wandered up here, to be away from the others, getting to know each other. Only, you did most of the talking and Vittorio liked to listen, could look at you for hours as you spoke. He hadn't spoken much about himself, only that he was from Italy and that he'd been here for a very, very long time.

"2022," you replied to his question. "At least when I came here."

Vittorio only nodded and a cloak of sadness covered his usual light, grey eyes.

"When did you come here?"

Vittorio was silent for a moment before he began to talk.

"1391. But I've been hiding, wandering through the fog until a while back when the Entity eventually found me and brought me here."

You stared at him as he spoke. He'd been here for that long? For centuries?

"I...I can't imagine what you've been through," you said and placed your hand on his lower arm. "You must have been so scared, so lonely..."

Vittorio looked at you, into your warm, beautiful eyes and he couldn't control himself anymore. Taking your face in his hand, he leaned down and kissed you, feeling a bolt of heat rush through him at the touch of your soft lips against his. How many times hadn't he fantazied about this? This and so much more...

The kiss took you by surprise, your eyes widening when Vittorio pressed his lips against yours. Then, you moaned against his mouth, the feeling of his hand cupping your face and the dominance of his lips melting away all the thoughts you may have.

Then, he suddenly pulled away and you looked at each other with flushed faces and heaving chests.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Shut up," you said and straddled his lap, quickly unbuckling his belt and opening his pants.

Vittorio stared up at you, whimpered when your delicate fingers wrapped around his cock and it twitched in your hand. Fuck, it had been so long since he'd felt the touch of a woman...He was already hard from the kissing, but the touch of your hand threatened to make him explode. Then, you suddenly pushed your panties aside and lowered yourself onto him. Vittorio cried out when his cock slid into your wet and tight, little pussy, his hands gripping your hips desperately as you started to ride him.

Closing your eyes, you threw your head back and allowed yourself to feel every gorgeous, thick girth of his cock fill you up. Fuck, he felt so good inside you. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and smiled, feeling victorious at the way he looked up at you in so much awe and lust. Lifting your top, you pulled it over your head and smiled anew as Vittorio's gaze fell upon your breasts. His hands moved up and cupped them, kneading the soft flesh in his rough-skinned hands.

Vittorio couldn't take his eyes away from his hands touching your breasts, his cock throbbing inside you every time your tits bounced as you moved on top of him. He bent forward and engulfed a hard nipple with his lips.

Vittorio sucked on your nipple hard, the rough texture of his beard rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin on your breasts. Fuck. You grabbed the back of his head, moaned as he sucked on your nipple until it became swollen and raw. When he finally released it, he looked up at you with lustful, wild eyes and heaving chest, and you leaned down, kissing him hungrily and needily.

"Fuck me, Vittorio. Make me yours," you whispered against his lips, your nails digging into his neck. Your words awoke something primal inside of him, a dominance longing to be released. Growling, he wrapped his arm around your torso and turned the both of you around so you laid underneath him. Pushing your legs up, he glared into your eyes, his face hard and stern as he started pounding into you like a madman. You stared up at him, your mouth half-open as your moans spilled from your lips, loving the dominance you always knew he had somewhere inside of him. Your back arched at the pleasure and you saw stars as his cock hit the deepest parts of you, again and again...Then, Vittorio wrapped his hand around your throat just below your jawline and that was all it took for you to tumble over the edge. You cried out in pleasure and your pussy clenched around his cock as your orgasm swept through your body like a whirlwind.

"Fuck," Vittorio muttered as your pussy tightened around him and he spilled his seed inside you, his swelling cock filling you up until he was completely drained. His heavy body collapsed on top of you and you smiled, embracing the safe feeling of his body on yours as you played with the long layers of his hair.

"I love you," he mumbled against your neck and your smile widened.

"I love you too."

Maybe your eternity in the fog wouldn't be so horrible after all.

Tag: @noodlecupcakes

#vittorio toscano x reader #vittorio toscano x you #dbd vittorio toscano #vittorio toscano #vittorio toscano dead by daylight #dead by daylight vittorio toscano #vittoio toscano smut #dbd smut #dead by daylight smut #dbd fanfic #dead by daylight fanfiction #dbd imagines #dead by daylight imagines

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theostrophywife · 2 years

Text

safe word.

masterlist (eris x reader) author's note: this is truly the start of my vanserra era. writing eris for the first time was so much fun. let me know what you guys think because i see myself writing more of him (and possibly lucien) in the future. request: @anon Could you do a smut fix where Eris gets a little too rough and aggressive where the reader has to safeword? It could follow up with fluff or anything of your choosing!!

As soon as Eris closed the door, you knew you were in for it.

Before returning to your bedchambers, you spent the better part of your day enduring a particularly tedious meeting with the other High Lords and High Lady. While the males engaged in their usual pissing contest, you’d grown utterly bored of whatever issue Tamlin was griping about and sought other ways to entertain yourself. Naturally, your attention gravitated toward your mate - the newly crowned High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Eris was impeccably dressed as always in a fitted golden tunic and dark trousers that were tucked into his favorite leather hunting boots. That handsome face of his contorted into the perfect picture of arrogance, freckles smattering his cheeks and nose as he sneered at the High Lord of Spring. Atop his luscious red locks sat the gilded circlet of leaves that had been passed down in the Vanserra family from generation to generation and you'd be damned if you said that your mate didn't look absolutely sexy as fuck donning his crown.

With Beron gone, Eris was finally free to drop his cruel act and began working towards changing the Autumn Court. This meeting was the first step to establishing peace and solidifying alliances between the other courts. For the first time in five centuries, the Forest House had opened its doors to welcome outsiders. Though everyone in the fox’s den was expected to be on their best behavior, your fingers itched to send a jolt of magic across the table if only to stop Tamlin’s incessant whining.

Your mate’s amber gaze settles over you to convey a silent reminder that maiming one of your guests was entirely out of the question. However tempting it may be. Eris squeezes your hand underneath the table and places it on his lap. You sigh, leaning against the high backed chair with a pout.

An amused grin curves through your mate’s lips as he twines his fingers through yours, squeezing gently with a promise to reward you in the bedroom later for your patience and cooperation. As the High Lady of the Autumn Court, you made sure to play the perfect host. You stood by Eris and attended every meeting, voicing your opinion and bonding with the ladies from the other courts. While you were more than happy to rule beside Eris, your duties and responsibilities had taken considerable time away that you could be spending in bed with your mate.

Needless to say, the balance of work and play desperately needed to be restored. What better time to sway the scale to your favor than the present?

While staring straight ahead, you rake your long fingernails over your mate’s thigh, inching towards the front of his breeches while Eris went utterly still underneath your touch. Eyes like molten honey flash to the side of your face, but you ignore the warning simmering in them and continue watching Rhysand rip into Tamlin with rapt attention. An iron-clad grip takes hold of your wrist as Eris leans over to you, speaking so lowly that only you could hear the reprimand in his voice.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, little fox.”

A living flame ignites in your veins, making the scarlet corseted dress you were currently wearing feel suffocating. The words only serve to further challenge you while you continue on your war path with determination, rubbing the inside of Eris’ thigh with slow, agonizing movements.

From the corner of your eye, you could see your mate struggling to maintain his composure. Eris barely bites back a growl as your wicked hands palm the bulge at the front of his pants. His cock twitches in response to your touch and a heady sense of satisfaction washes over you, knowing that you were the only one who could elicit this type of reaction from the High Lord.

You rub at his erection while answering whatever question Azriel asked to your right, laughing as the shadowsinger responded with a dry comment underneath his breath. A pang of jealousy jolts through the bond you shared with Eris, but you only shoot him the most innocent of smiles as he glowers at the male seated beside you.

It didn’t take long before Eris called an end to the meeting. As your guests dispersed, your mate led the way to your bedchamber in silence. You could practically feel the simmering rage radiating off of him in waves while you walked side by side.

He opens the door to your shared bedroom, locking it close behind him before stalking towards you with a predatory gaze. You swallow thickly as Eris backs you up against the wall, placing both palms on either side of your head as he roughly turns you over. He grinds his erection into your ass and you inhale sharply, forehead falling slack against the walls of your bedroom.

“Do you think it was acceptable to act like a spoiled rotten little brat in that meeting?” Deft fingers angrily unlaced your corset, releasing you from the constraints of the fabric as Eris nearly ripped the delicate lace to pieces.

Gone was the playful gaze of your mate, replaced by the punishing tone of voice he reserved when you were being especially bratty. Eris didn’t use it very often. He wasn’t fond of being stern with you. Most of the time, he treated you like an absolute princess. Eris loved you more than his court and his crown combined and went to great lengths to ensure your happiness came before his own. The male would move mountains for you if you asked, but he also wasn't opposed to disciplining you when necessary.

Eris hisses into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as his chest presses against your bare back. “Rubbing at my cock because you couldn’t wait five fucking minutes?” He tore off your bustier and threw it over his shoulder, exposing your bare breasts while he cups them in his hands. “And smiling at the shadowsinger? Are you trying to drive me entirely insane?”

The male sinks his teeth into your shoulder, sucking harshly and no doubt leaving a large purple welt on your skin. “I- I’m sorry,” you whine, craning your neck to meet his gaze.

The wicked grin that spreads across his handsome face was purely feral. “No, you aren’t,” he states with a dark chuckle. “But you will be once I’m done with you, little fox.”

Heat spread straight to your sex at his words. Eris wasn’t one to use threats, but the High Lord always made good on his promises. And judging by the wicked glint in those amber eyes, you were in for the fucking ride of your life.

He pulls down your skirts harshly, discarding them nearby as he carries you to the edge of your bed. He perches himself against the headboard, beckoning you with one finger.

“Come here,” he commands with pure authority. You scooted over on your knees, but Eris held up a hand. “Not like that. I want you to crawl to me, princess.”

Shit. You were truly and absolutely in for it tonight.

You drop down on all fours, crawling on the soft mattress as Eris watches with lust blown eyes. While you were entirely exposed, your mate was still fully dressed as he pulls you into his lap. He cups your ass, giving your right cheek a light smack before he positions you in front of the headboard.

Eris produces the laces from your corset and ties your hands at the base of the bed before unbuttoning his pants behind you. You whine at the obstructed view, wanting to see your mate, to feel him underneath your hands, to taste him on your mouth.

“Eris, please. I need you,” the neediness in your voice echoes through the quiet room, eliciting a chuckle from your mate.

“Too fucking bad. You should’ve thought of that before teasing the absolute hell out of me. Now you can watch me get myself off and then maybe I’ll think about giving you what you want.”

He could smell the desperation and arousal in the air, could see your dripping wet cunt spread out before him like a feast, but he wasn’t about to reward you after the little stunt you pulled earlier. Eris released his cock from the front of his trousers, rubbing up and down his length as he pleasured himself to the sight of you bent over on all fours.

The squelching sound of flesh against flesh made you press your thighs together. It was excruciating watching him pump himself mere inches away from you. You wanted his cock in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, anywhere and everywhere that your greedy little heart desires, but you could tell that Eris was going to make you work for it first.

You crane your neck and watch as your mate’s head tilts back, revealing the column of his throat, lips parted slightly while your name slips out of his mouth with ease. You were aching with absolute agony as he got himself off, making irresistible sounds of moans and pants as he chases after his release. Eris groans deeply as he cums, positioning his tip so that his seed trickles down your already dripping wet cunt.

He teases along your slit, spreading his own arousal over your sex while you buck your hips against him. Eris grips your hips so tightly to the point that you could feel the indents of his fingers searing into your skin.

“Do that again and you won’t be getting any relief out of me tonight,” Eris says. “I decide when to fuck you, little fox. Do you understand?”

You nod, letting out a shuddering breath. “Y-yes.”

Eris trails his fingers down your spine as his fire skitter over your skin. Goosebumps cover your entire body as flames dance along your back only to settle its warmth in between your legs. Your pussy throbs as his fire kisses your wet core.

“Yes, what?” he demands in an authoritative tone.

“Yes, daddy.”

Eris smirks. “Good girl.” He kneads your ass with his fingers, kissing the back of your neck before gathering your hair in his hand. “Maybe I will give you what you want, after all.”

“Please,” you plead in a breathy moan. “Please, Eris.”

Your mate leans over, pressing his erection over your wetness. The friction almost made you roll your eyes into the back of your head, but you didn’t dare rub against him for fear of awakening his anger again. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“I did. I’m sorry for teasing you.”

Eris grinds his hips into yours and you bite back a moan. “It doesn’t feel so nice when you’re on the receiving end, does it?”

“No-please, Eris. I want you. I need you.”

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” his breath fans over the crook of your neck while he sucks harshly at your neck. “You know I can never deny you, princess.”

In one swift move, Eris plunges himself into your wet pussy. Your walls clench around his cock as he snaps his hips into yours, fucking you relentlessly from behind while you cried out in sheer pleasure. He grips the back of your thighs, pressing your legs together so he can thrust into you at a different angle, increasing the punishing tempo as the pressure builds in your lower abdomen.

Eris changes it up, slowing his pace as he watches his cock slide in and out of your pussy. The squelching sound as you squeeze around him fills the room as does the smell of sex. It stifles the air around you as you beg Eris for more, head falling slack against the headboard. Your mate props a pillow up to prevent you from hitting the wooden bedpost and continues the painstakingly steady pace of his thrusts.

“Fuck,” you curse, whining as Eris pulls out of you once more. “Can you fuck me harder, daddy?”

Eris growls and obliges your request, rutting into you roughly while tears prick the corner of your eyes. He pulls your hair as he fucks you further into the mattress, sweat dripping at your back while he pounds you again and again. You could feel your orgasm peaking as that familiar warmth spread through your body. But just as soon as you were about to reach that sweet release, Eris completely withdrew himself from you.

You whine at the loss of contact, droplets of tears and sweat coating your skin while you look back at your mate. Eris grins, shifting you over to the edge of the mattress while he rose to standing. You watch as he undresses, his russett locks gleaming against his toned figure while he looms over you. The view from this angle was entirely upside down and you could only see Eris from the knees up as he strokes your lips with his thumb.

“Open up, princess.”

You do as you’re told and Eris slides his cock into your wet mouth. As he bucks his hips against you, the taste of your own juices fill your mouth, but you’re too busy gagging on his length to focus on anything else. Eris triggers your gag reflex over and over and again while he throat fucks you. He swears as you choke on his length, saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth as he continues thrusting between your lips.

“Fuck, I need to be inside that sweet cunt of yours again.”

Flames curl through your wrists and ankles as Eris uses his power to shift you on the mattress so that your legs are dangling over the sheets. Without warning, he spreads your legs and buries himself inside of you again as though he never left. Your breasts bounce as your back arches off the bed and Eris takes the opportunity to take a nipple between his lips, swirling and sucking until you’re practically seeing stars.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, flames flickered through your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. The fire was warm, but not uncomfortable. If anything, it only heightened your pleasure. The head of his cock hits your cervix at just the right angle, but just as you were about to climax, Eris pulls away once again.

You almost cried in frustration. Eris had denied you two orgasms in a row and you had a feeling he was only getting started. You didn’t know how much of this you could take, but you weren’t about to stop now that you were so close.

As if reading your mind, Eris pauses and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Remember to use our safe word if it ever gets to be too much, alright princess?”

You nod, sitting upright. “I remember.”

Eris smiles fondly as you cup his cheek. “Will you please kiss me?” you ask shyly.

Your mate responds by bringing his mouth to yours, lips melding together as he tastes every inch of you. He pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him, breasts pressed firmly against his chest while your fingers take through his russett hair. It doesn’t take long for the fire to awaken again as his tongue prods into your mouth, fighting for dominance as he holds the back of your neck in place.

Eris flips you over, growling as you tug his shirt over his head. As you prop yourself up on your elbows, you take the opportunity to trace his perfect torso, the defined lines of his solid chest and perfectly chiseled abs warm underneath your fingertips. Your mate kisses your cheek before his fire snakes through your wrists.

“Only good girls get to touch,” he teases with a low, husky voice. “I’m not done punishing you yet.”

Without warning, he fills you up once again. Your pussy throbbed as he fucks you roughly, his hand clamping around your throat while his thrusts kept a punishing rhythm. Fire snakes around your nipples, its warm thread extending all the way down to your clit as Eris drives you to the brink of release. As your head draped over the bed, you felt a wave of exhaustion hit you all at once. The combination of Eris filling you again and again while his power stimulated your most sensitive areas was too much to bear.

Tears prick your eyes as you gasp for breath, feeling as though your senses were drowning with too many sensations all at once.

“R-red. Red! Red!” you pant as droplets of sweat blur your vision.

At the use of your safe word, Eris stops his thrusting and kneels beside you. The domineering male from a few seconds ago was completely gone and in his place was the concerned gaze of your mate as he brushes your hair back. You didn’t know how badly you were shaking until Eris was cradling you against his chest, rocking you back and forth as he rubs soothing circles onto your skin.

“Are you alright, princess?” Eris asks softly, brushing his knuckles over your cheek as he examines your features. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you breathe, shaking your head. Eris could never hurt you. Though the sex could be rough soemtimes, your mate knew your limits and didn’t push unless you specifically asked him to. “I-I’m sorry. I just got a little overwhelmed.”

“Don’t ever be sorry, my love. We have a safe word for a reason. Even when I’m punishing you, I always want the experience to be pleasurable. The minute sex becomes uncomfortable or painful, I want you to tell me just like you did now.”

Eris kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and your jaw, making you smile. “I’ve got you, princess. I will always make sure that your needs come first. You know that, right?”

You nod. “I do, Eris. You always take care of me.”

Your mate grins. “And I always will. You are more precious to me than my court or my crown. I love you, princess. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I love you too, Eris,” you kiss his cheek, grateful that the Cauldron gave you the most thoughtful, caring male as your mate. “You’re the best husband, mate, and High Lord anyone could ever ask for.”

Eris chuckles. “It’s not so hard when you’re by my side,” he shifts you in his lap and gently kisses your shoulder. “Now how does a bath and cuddles sound?”

“Like the best damned thing I’ve heard all night.”

#um...this got filthy real fast #also fluffy because i feel like eris is a big softie at heart #eris #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris x you #eris smut #eris vanserra smut #acotar smut #masterlist #jess writes

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hanzajesthanza · 9 months

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dressed elegantly. this will never leave my head. the implications of this.

because geralt and his company, they saddled up, left beauclair, travelled through mountains and frozen blizzards and downpours and muddy sod for two to three months. you need to pack outfits for that. you need to plan your gear.

what was the rest of the company wearing? what did they pack for this long journey? they packed practically, dressed warmly for the frozen journey of january, february, march. geralt wore a wolf-skin cloak, a scarf, a shawl… milva wore a fox-fur kalpak, angoulême wore a hat with a pompom and a sheepskin coat. cahir’s dress isn’t mentioned, but he must have been dressed similarly, because he rubs his hands briskly together and were he not dressed warmly he otherwise would have frozen to death. regis’ dress isn’t mentioned, but it is mentioned that he’s immune to the freezing temperature. so, i mean, it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing in this scene, maybe a regular outfit.

but at stygga. dressed elegantly.

so you’re telling me that. regis packed his things in preparation for their flight from beauclair, went to his quarters after geralt explained to him the satisfactory reasons they were leaving, and went,

“alright, time to prepare for this long and dangerous journey that will conclude in a great clash between our forces and the kidnappers of ciri. the end of our quest. the final journey. and a dangerous road awaits us, with snow still blocking the passes, frost and white all around. a grand fight and conflict awaits us. what gear should i prepare, what should i wear for this expedition, what kinds of clothing should i pack.”

and then he went:

“you know, i want to look fucking good ✨ when we get there 💅🏻🦇”

imagine the final preparation before they approach castle stygga. geralt sees the castle hewn out of the cliffside, effortlessly noticing every detail from far away, seeing like an eagle with his mutated eyes. and like an eagle, compelled to swoop down and snatch vilgefortz like a fish. ordering the company forward, declaring they’ve made it. this is the moment they have all been waiting for. everyone has been waiting such a long time for this. they prepared everything.

they wait until midnight. angoulême eagerly unsheathes and whets her long sabre, swings her axe around with predatory glee. cahir fits the plate armor and winged officer’s helmet he scavenged from a small nilfgaardian dispatch that they ran into extorting caravista for tax. milva tightens the same worn, polished leather bracer that she’s always had on her left arm, and mutters as she fixes her spiralled arrow fletchings over boiling water. geralt, with nothing left to do, paces and breathes, wondering where the hell regis has gone.

just then, regis walks out from behind an outcropping of rock, eyes glinting with cat-like light, in his “elegant” outfit, absolutely slaying that shit, and all his friends look at him absently like. “what the hell are you wearing. where the fuck did you get that. you packed that? you planned your outfit for the final battle, you planned this outfit in advance three months ago?” to which he counters, “well, three months isn’t very long at all,” and they’re like, “this is the preparation you made? we thought you left to do some secret vampire rituals or whatever. or to reckon with yourself for the severe violence we’re about to inflict.” and he’s like “no, i just wanted to make sure i was dressed nicely for the occasion”

#witcher 3 keira metz’s ‘if i’m to die i should look smashing for the occassion’ should really go to book regis i think that’s canon for him #also my headcanon would be that he looses his hair and takes his glasses off #kind of like in a movie where a nerd girl has a glow up and walks down the staircase at the end with her glasses off and hair down #and the boy she’s dating is at the bottom of the stairs like ‘wow… i didn’t know …’#except the boy in this situation is geralt #however it’s less of a cute thing of ‘haha where’d the cute nerdy girl go’ and more of like. um. where is the kind barber surgeon i know #because if you exist quietly and sense the night around you and pay close attention to the moonlight #there are some kind of powerful unknown dark energies brewing and swirling around their group now like fog #he laughs and smiles and he does not purse his lips. and his hair is becoming tangled in the wind #and geralt’s like. who the fuck did i bring to stygga castle. lmao #angouleme: yesss slay uncle | regis: [nods head solemnly] we certainly are | angouleme: noooo like SLAYYYY 🔥🔥🔥#bruh your drip is straight fire 🔥💯#the witcher books #txt #emiel regis #regis #book: lady of the lake #headcanons

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vuulpecula · 2 months

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@rickgrimesdoingrickthings cont.

"I've brought this as an offering...hoping you would hear out my request." ... He had learned the art of sword, had a strong moral code, was chosen to be part of the patrol of the small burgo- however one night, he wasn't enough. A group of bandits attacked, desiring nothing more than a cross of gold the baron owned. He should have hired more soldiers, suspecting the marauders could come. The men killed the weaker guards- Rick alone had no chance- the marauder leader even allowed Richard the chance to just...leave, no one else had to get hurt. But his stupid honor...made him fight. Not only he was severely beaten by the gang, he was humiliated. They stole the cross from the vault, dragged Rick along until they found his house, stomped the door open, humiliated him in front of his wife, slashed his face with a blade under his eye, leaving a scar, a mark of shame and defeat- and to send the baron a message, they cut Rick's arm off with an axe, then burned the wound- up to half his forearm. The small village heard all the screams, but did nothing, in fear. Once Rick recovered, he was expelled from the city. His wife didn't want him anymore, saying he wouldn't be able to work and provide, saying he was stained her name, that he was a shame. The nobles there wanted him to go- they were afraid- wanted to forget what happened- to many, he wasn't even a man anymore. 'Better leave before you make debt here and becomes a slave.' An old couple said, giving Rick some bread and a short cloak so he would protect himself from the cold. 'Good luck my son.' Both were sad, but he had to go. After walking for days, taking breaks, surviving in the wild, he found a village' it had walls. A new place. He asked for information, they said it was up to their leader accept him or not. Their culture seemed different...less...arrogant. He had nothing though, not even his right hand or a sword to fight. His clothes were beaten, cotton and leather getting worn out. Rick walked to the sunflower fields he had passed by and collected some flowers- that was all he had to offer. No strength to walk farther, no money of food- not even a decent body to offer, missing half an arm and face marked, maybe the scar would soften with time and fade, but his hand wouldn't heal back. Intrigued by the sadness and determination in his eyes, the gatekeeper let Rick in. Once he had the chance to talk to the leader, he lowered his head, cloak hiding his amputation, it still brought him shame and bad memories. "I've brought this as an offering...hoping you would hear out my request." He took a deep breath. "Any work...I'll do. I know many things, I can be useful. I will be. Please. Let me stay." On the road he wouldn't last much longer- unarmed and tired, bandits probably would kill and violate him for fun, or maybe some animals would hurt him. He was hungry and thirsty and dirty, on his knees, which were so heavy and hurting. He was slowly setting, like the sun. Maybe he would faint right there. He was asking for help. Begging. He needed.

It was not wholly unusual to see types like him wandering throughout the woods surrounding the village. Lost souls, banished for whatever reason. Was it better, to let them wander instead of rot away in a cell, forgotten? They had commit no crime, or crime worthy of a sentencing, but still, they were shunned from their communities. More than once, her walls had been a half-way home of sorts for these travelers. Some stayed, some left, she always gave them the choice. Crimes were dealt with swiftly, but accidents, mistakes, those were never good enough reasons to her.

Dressed much like a man in leathers and wool, Fox looked upon the traveler from beneath her hood. Examining him when he could not do the same. Leaning her elbows on her knees, legs spread, taking up all the space in front of the throne, she waited to see if he would faint. He looked like he could at any moment. Such a frail thing, he was. After another moment, she gave a silent command with the slight lift and fall of her head. Beside her throne, a knight in light mail stepped forward. A hand on his sword hilt as he approached Rick where he knelt. Carefully, he took the sunflowers from his grasp and returned to his monarch, bending a knee to present her with the gift.

Fox reached out, looking the flowers over. She whispered something and her knight spoke for her, voice booming. "This is a gift that shall die--will you too die, stranger of the woods? Or will you stand, take these seeds, and plant within these walls a garden?" He took a few steps toward Rick, one hand still on his sword hilt, but the other reached out. Offering him help up from the floor.

Leaning back in her throne, Fox waited again. Head bowed so that she saw the stranger only from his waist down. Not wanting to risk her identity being shown so soon. It was foolish to suffer the way he did and yet, still not want the sanctuary of a woman, yet there were others who had made that mistake. Spitting on the ground when she, a queen in name only, offered them life.

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #[ for some reason the ask formatting was all wonky ]#[ so i just gave up and did it in a separate post ]#[ <3 ]#[ i love the idea of fox pretending to be a man leading the people lol ]#x | v. you have everything and still the world holds no joy ( HISTORIC EIGHT. )#long post for ts

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starlit-hopes-and-dreams · 9 months

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Word Find Tag

Catch up p8, June edition. Thanks for the tag Elli 💜 (@i-can-even-burn-salad)

My words: cruel, chain, cloth and color

Your words: burn, bleed, bother, and broken

Gently tagging: @little-peril-stories, @menagerie-of-monsters, @dont-touch-my-soup, and You, if you'd like :D (Open Tag)

To repay you for your patience, I am going to attempt to pull these words from the two Nykim chapters I have lol

I feel like I should just blanket CW for captivity, restraints, and torture (whipping, aftermath of whipping, broken bones) XD

Cruel Riah

Resignation flashed in Nykim’s eyes, there and then gone. His eyes fluttered closed as he chewed and swallowed, the pink tip of his fox tongue darting out to capture a stray crumb. “Thank you,” he whispered, letting his chin drop to his chest. Gods, he looked so tired. Riah stared at him, trying to figure him out. His reputation wasn’t exactly matching up to the man in front of her. Maybe it was situational, but all he had done was tease her when he could’ve been demanding, demeaning, or downright cruel. He might be the world’s best con man, but her heart twinged nonetheless. Watching people suffer had never been her favorite past-time. And it would be unfair if she offered food only to take it away after one bite.

Chain Nykim

“Answer, please answer!” She wasn’t supposed to say that part, maybe, because it sounded like she was shoved into the table for it, based on the thud and clatter of whatever was on the damned thing. The effort wasn’t worth whatever price she would pay for that. He wouldn’t. Not that it mattered because the whip came down again and again in quick succession, giving him no time. The shock of the blows reverberated in his bones, the barbs rending his flesh with each strike. Air hissed between his teeth, chain links embedded in his palms, sweat slickened his forehead, and the whip kept coming down. Leather met lacerated skin with a sickeningly wet slap. The woman didn’t appear accustomed to witnessing torture because her breath kept hitching in the background. At least she couldn’t see–fuck!

Cloth Riah

One look, and she’d had to walk straight back out. Merrick had turned and raised one eyebrow. Pushing past the rush of anxiety that look provoked, Riah’d told him she needed to clean Nykim’s back, or she wouldn’t be able to see to judge if he healed himself or not. Now, a cold sweat prickled her brow as she pressed a cloth that was no longer white to Nykim’s shoulder. She dunked it in water that was no longer clear, rung it out, and went back for another pass. The bleeding had slowed. Riah couldn’t say if that was a good thing or not. Couldn’t say if her stomach churned more from the crimson-soaked fabric in her hands or the clearly visible ruin of this man’s back.

Color Riah

“Like what… you see?” “Yes,” she snapped, “I like seeing horrible people like you in the position you’re currently in.” The smirk didn’t fall from his face, but the laughter left his eyes. “Yes, of course. I deserve–” Something shifted in his arm, something that made that awful bone-on-bone sound she was so familiar with from her hip, and he cut off, pursing his lips as his face lost all color. It wasn’t until then that she noticed the other signs of pain she’d conveniently missed before. The tension in his thighs, evident through the tight black material of his pants. The way his chest rose and fell just a bit too fast. The barely visible sheen of sweat coating his skin. This man was in agony, but instead of moaning or screaming or even yelling at her to help, he was sitting there on shattered knees, hanging from broken arms, conversing with her. Oh yeah, and couldn’t forget his shredded back. Gods, she was a terrible person. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t. I didn’t mean that.” “Yeah, you did,” Nykim panted. “Which–fuck–which is curious, considering the shit company you keep.” Riah winced.

#starlit plays tag games #word find tag #wip: shattered kneecaps #nykim collects strays and bones #i'd give you the whole whipping scene in chain but its nice and long :)#all these quotes are long #whoops

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tiodolma · 1 year

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youtube

Katie Mcgrath on filming Merlin s3

KM: It’s a bit weird and it’s like a bit of going back to school and seeing all your mates again. I’m glad there is something very comforting, and very almost relaxing about a third year. I mean, People have said, very nicely you guys, that there ehmm is a sense of confidence in the show that has been recommissioned. And you got a sense of swagger in your walk and coming back to third season when it’s frankly been more successful than any of us could ever have thought. And you do have a different sort of stature and a different sort of feeling. And it’s nice to come back and see everyone again.

Q: And last time we saw Morgana she had been swept away so can you tell us how you get back here?

KM: Oh can I? Can I? Can I? I don’t want to spoil it for you guys but needless to say the third season opens and a year has passed. Morgana is found at ehmm the start of episode one and it’s discovered that she has been duped by Morgause and she’s very apologetic and sees the error of her ways and things like that. She apologizes to everyone but the question is of Merlin doesn’t completely trust her, whether what’s she’s saying is true and you don’t quite know whether which way it’s going to go. So you know it’s typical “Merlin.” It’s the legend but it’s never the way that you think it’s going to be. So prepare for suprises.

Q: I think the third series is darker.

KM: You know and I think you could see that from the second series in the way that was going. Definitely the last three episodes were much much darker. The third series follows on from that. And it’s quite a bit of, sort of, Yeah it’s dark and has more conflict but at the same time it still does those great sort of one episode funny family comedy episode like you have with the troll last year and things like that, it still continues in that vein. But There’s also a more of a sense of a feeling of a continuous storyline this time which is nice as well. So yeah we’re gonna wait and see.

Q: Will we see more of Morgana’s magical element coming out?

KM: I hope so. I’m telling you I cannot wait for the bit where you know, Merlin and Morgana having that big magical battle. But I’m not sure how soon the way that is because you see in season 2, she’s not in full control and I think that is going to be a while in coming.

KM: Obviously the main magical being in the show is Merlin. He’s the one who has the ability and the control of it. Morgana’s magic is very different, it’s far more linked to her emotions. And once she gets her emotions, and her fears and everything like that under control, I think that her magic will follow. So I think she has to become more assured of what she is before she is able to do that.

Q: What’s Morgana’s relationship with Merlin like right now, considering what happened in the last series?

KM: I think at the start of season 3 she honestly understands why he did what he did ehm and she was anxious to repair their relationship back to the way they were. Because at the end of the day Merlin was the one who understood her and who knew the truth about her and emphathised with her and I think you see in episode one, her... her trying to get back to that. So...

Q: Do you think he trusts her?

KM: I think he’s resolute to trust her because she is apologetic and he does I think want to believe her but, you know, experiences taught him to be wary. Quite like you(the interviewer) sound.

Q: What kind of creatures and enemies will we be seeing in this series?

KM: Ehmm, The first couple of episodes are actually, they’re more, the villains are more people rather than magical monsters which is actually quite nice! It’s a difference and ehmm. So with have the very lovely Milly Fox as Morgause who is coming back and she has a partner in crime being played by Tom Ellis, fantastically actually! Head-to-toe in leather which is interesting. Ehm and I think that might be a sort of a triangle that you might see more of as the season goes on. Ehm and definitely the Morgana/Morgause relationship is a very important one for Merlin and our telling of the story so hopefully she’ll be back.

KM: And then we have Mark Williams, playing a goblin, voicing a goblin in one of the episodes, which we had a readthrough. He was hilarious, I swear, in stitches... So we got some good ones, you know? You never think! Coz in the first season, it was the little show, it was this tiny little show that was filmed down in Cardiff. It was about magic and nobody really knew and it just keeps getting bigger and the caliber of people we get coming in, you know, at the start of every read through they sort of let us know, and we just hang there open-mouthed. Coz were on to, sort of I’m not gonna tell you, give you away any of them.. We’re onto about the ninth episode and the guest stars are getting better and better and shockingly so. So...

Q: What else do you think the series holds for Morgana?

KM: What else does it hold? More power, one can only hope. Fingers crossed. Thing is, We don’t actually know. When we get the scripts, it as much as a surprise to us as it is to anyone else. And the producers keep quiet, you know, quite quiet about what they have coming up more often than not coz sometimes the script works and sometimes it doesn’t so they don’t tell us what’s coming up because, you know, in case we get attached to something that doesn’t happen. And as well it gives you that element of surprise. It gets the end of filming a [block?] and you know everyone’s going “what do you think is going to happen?” so it- it keeps everything fresher for you so I have actually have no idea what’s going to happen to morgana at the end of season 3 because “Merlin” is never the way that you expect! I know I keep coming back to this but it’s always something out of left field so as much as I’m waiting I’m sure you are too.

#katie mcgrath #adventures of merlin #bbc merlin #bbc morgana #merlin x morgana #mergana #merlin meta #it's a cool POV from katie mcgrath #Youtube #fascinating resource for the dynamic tbh

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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Silver Fox Saturday with Silver Fox Johnny and his ember 😍

“I’m not here for you.” He feels minor disappointment when you press your hand into his chest to keep him at a distance.

And he’s mildly annoyed that you appearing at Baxter Building, after leaving the bed empty this morning, wearing something to drive him wolf. It was a tight little black leather skirt and black knit sweater tucked into the band that made him salivate, even the cardigan you threw over was driving him wild.

“Baby-“ Johnny whined, his eyes taking you in from head to toe, drinking you in with growing huger pains and fire starting to burn his fingertips.

“Valeria and I are going to get our nails done, and I have to pack after for Germany.” You trapped your fingers against his chest, a purr building in his chest before it came screeching to a halt at the mention of Germany.

“What the fuck-“ Johnny’s cathartic reaction to the country and your intention to still go had been overshadowed by Reed’s voice of reason.

“She’s going with me, Johnny.” Reed stepped past the two of you onto the way to the kitchen, side-eyeing Johnny when the latter had given him a dirty look.

“Germany with Reed-“

“-and a half dozen other interns. Are you jealous?” You bit on the inside of your cheek to stave off your grin, dropping one hand from his chest to place it on your hip.

“Jealous of Reed?” Johnny huffed, steam appearing to rise from his head. “Reed taking my girlfriend to Germany for a week and a half-“

“I’m not your girlfriend-“ you teased, knowing he hadn’t even officially asked yet.

“-and its not a week and a half.” Reed had joined you in countering his point on his way out of the kitchen, lightly flicking the side of Johnny’s head. “You have trials anyway-“

“So you’re going to get your nails done, and then going to abandon me…” Johnny groaned, snatching you around the waist to yank you to his chest. “My girlfriend-“

“Not your girlfriend-“

“The hell you’re not.” He growled against you, nipping that sensitive spot on your neck that made you week. “You’re mine, ember. And if you’re going to forget that-“

For the second time he was interrupted, his attempt to make you weak against him broken by Valeria and her arrival from upstairs. She had inherently commented at first but after Johnny had refused to back off when she passed, she addressed him with an exaggerated sigh.

“I have to go, bye.” You pulled away and ducked under his arm, sticking your tongue out at him when he tried reaching for you again.

#silverfox!johhny storm x reader #silverfox!johnny Storm x reader fluff #silverfox!Johnny Storm #silverfox!Johnny Storm imagines

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mikodaiyo · 1 year

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[skfw] The Inn Encounter

Summary: Sesshomaru is looking for Kagome.

Day 1: Courting

Word prompt: Love Letter

Scenario Prompt: Character A has been acting strange so character B confronts them.

Sesskag Fluff Week Prompts ♥️

“Kagome isn’t here.”

Sango smiled apologetically to Sesshomaru while Rin abandoned training to hug her hogosha.

That morning, with the children all stuffed into her hut for their warm ups again, Sango had decided it had been raining for long enough and ushered them out onto the dewy lawn.

From above, Shippou worked out his magic by providing them the coverage of a large canopy, though it looked like a large towel struggling to stay stretched out in the breeze. Sango had relieved him of his duty several times just for him to refuse, saying a village hero such as he could at least do this much.

Sesshomaru noticed the sweat that beaded down the child’s form as soon as it ran down his sleeves, interrupting his reunion. Sighing, he released his moko into the air and it swirled and swirled, startling the large towel with a bushy fox tail as it became a large cloud all its own, shading them all from the rain.

“Enough, Shippou.” He said, and it was.

Shippou released himself and fell to the earth unsteadily, his little paws holding him up still.

“Well done, Shippou!” Rin applauded him, walking over and patting his panting back. He looked at her and then at Sesshomaru, grinning shyly when even he nodded.

“Rin. Jaken is making your favorite dish.”

“Break-time!” Rin translated. She grabbed Shippo's hand but froze mid stride, now looking to her Master Sango.

Sango nodded, “You heard Lord Sesshomaru. Jaken is making everyone’s favorite dishes!” She smiled at her children standing at attention behind her, “You better hurry.”

The relief of children’s laughter filled the wet air, the sound of Slayer uniforms slapped the earth and Mokomoko followed the children to keep them dry. The rain fell on the adults again but they didn’t mind it. The rain was a refreshing blessing as well as natural conversation cover.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Come again another day

Inside the Inn we will decay

And though the keeper will let us stay

It's been – and we want to play

Rain, Rain, Go Away

It was just something to pass the time, Kagome insisted to them. A phonetic rhyme that would help them keep track of time, if nothing else. But to the children it was a blessed chant from Priestess Kagome, a chant that if they sang loud enough it would make the rain go away. They sang it so much recently that Sango didn’t even notice the number of rainy days, she just knew the children were blessedly occupied with a suitable answer instead of asking her to teach them how to beat it up.

Sango stretched her arms and they both heard her bones popping graciously, “You hurry too. What if you catch a cold?” She walked toward the entrance of her home and kept the door open by invitation.

“This one does not get colds.” Sesshomaru followed after her calmly.

“You never know. Stranger things have happened.”

“Such as?”

“You, looking for Kagome.”

“This One is always looking for Kagome.”

“You’ve become such a romantic, Lord Sesshomaru! That nearly made my old heart skip a beat.”

“Old?” Sesshomaru raised his brow. He rested his swords against her door frame and took a seat at her low table, “even demons in my court would question your slow aging.”

“My Lord,” Sango guffawed, moving to another room with a screen dividing the view, “You are making me blush. May I remind you I am a married woman.”

After removing the armored guards of her uniform, she worked on the wet leather itself. Sesshomaru closed his eyes and listened to the rain, listened to all the patterns in the mud, the grass, the farmers footsteps. He sifted through the noises, searching for a particular Priestess’ heavy footfalls.

Reemerging refreshed, Sango set fire to her hearth and began preparing her favorite tea set, an adorable white and purple accented gift from The Lord of the West with his red, hexagonal crest glazed into plates and the handles built like gold clouds were whipped against the porcelain cups. The set had instantly become the main reason Sango entertained guests.

“Speaking of being the only married woman-”

“You did not speak of that.”

“Did you know I am the only married woman in the whole village?” Sango fixed, “Speaking of which-”

“This one is looking for Kagome.” Sesshomaru emphasized, as if to say it wasn’t his fault that she was the only one. Sango placed the tea set down and then sat herself with a mortar and pestle, grinding sweet smells into the air.

“She’s been so busy lately.” Sango sighed, “Everyone has been; Demon sightings are picking up in neighboring villages, Kaedae can only be in one place at a time, Kagome goes everywhere else. Miroku wrote that he and Inuyasha have been making more progress rebuilding east.” Sango stretched then, as though talking about everything worked out the knots, “More children want to be taught to be Slayers so I get to see Kohaku only briefly while he and Kirara drop off more to me and take the ones I’ve trained to study further in the mountains.”

The kettle whistled and Sesshomaru got up, to which Sango sighed in appreciation.

She lightly brushed her mixture into their cups and Sesshomaru poured in the hot water. Hers first and then his own.

“You are all busy.” Sango breathed in the steam, her eyes closed but one peeking open. “ Yet, I seem to always find you.”

She worked with children all day. She had three of her own.

So, Sango could tell when a little pout was forming and it was such a shame Kagome was missing it.

“Well, I mean, it’s not like Kagome to not want to be found, is it?” Sango mused. Sesshomaru, who had been lifting his own cup, paused. He hadn’t considered that.

Just because he could not locate her, didn’t mean she didn’t want to be located.

In fact, when did she ever stay away from Sesshomaru? Kagome didn’t even hide from him when she had good reason to.

“When was the last time you spoke?”

“Hmm… what the…” Sango squinted, staring hard into the empty space above to try and form the image of the last time she had seen Kagome. “Actually, It’s been weeks… has it been weeks?”

Sesshomaru knew she wasn’t asking him and the irritability of the unknown began to tense his form. So no one had answers, for this long?

“This one last saw her before the rain fell.” He supplied.

“Rain, rain go away…” Sango mumbled, her hand coming to rest on her chin in deep thought. If she concentrated, she could hear the children singing just that morning. Sesshomaru didn’t dare break her concentration.

“Come again another day, inside the inn I’d rather not stay, and the keeper would let me stay, but it's been… it's been 12 days and we want to play…”

They shared a look.

According to the children who sang songs and chants that Kagome taught them when they were bored, it had been raining for two weeks.

For the past week, Kagome had been staying at an Inn. It wasn’t the largest or most lavish like Miroku preferred, nor as sparse as Inuyasha preferred. There were five rooms, an outdoor pool and an old Innkeeper who liked chatting in the mornings while they drank their tea and didn’t charge Kagome on account of her status. Graciously, Kagome offered to clean the rooms for the Innkeeper and bless it regularly, just in case her presence brought misfortune.

There was plenty of room for her goal; According to the Village Leader, women had been disappearing. Kagome had asked the Leader to keep him informed, but upon receiving no reply, Kagome let her gut instinct kick in. She only told Kaedae she’d be gone and hopped on the last cart of that night, napping amongst the hay and waking to an Ox licking her cheek, she and the farmer arriving at the inn.

Kagome huffed, the cool night air materializing puffs that lifted her bangs. While she was stuck, waiting, how many girls were being taken in by that orange, malicious energy that filled the sky? The one she noticed sipping tea with the Innkeeper while they chatted? The dawn that pooled across the sky like blood and tricked regular people into thinking it was a normal sunset?

They sat there in the evening, after Kagome finished cleaning the floors and the Innkeeper made sure the snack portion was doubled. They sat and Kagome smiled and traded pleasantries and hid her unease behind her teacup when the Innkeeper remarked they’d never seen such a beautiful sunset. Kagome lost sleep these past few nights just watching the Innkeeper, making sure it wasn’t the beginnings of hypnotism. But so far no change. Just she and the Innkeeper and the orange blood hiding a perfectly good sunset.

Again, she wished she had time to learn how to work with shinigami. Or time to train a messenger bird. What kind of Priestess didn’t travel with a companion? Even her bike would have sufficed.

Had she known it would take so long for another lead but she didn’t know because she always worked in groups, and in a good group like hers, everyone did their fair share. It never seemed like there was a moment's rest because someone or someone else was always gathering information.

But now, Kagome was all alone and there was all at once too much to do and nothing to do. Too much information to work with and none at all. The perfect time to take Intel but, Intel on what?

“Perfect time to invent e-mail.” She muttered into her cup.

“You’ve been grumbling since your arrival yesterday, dear.” said the Innkeeper. “Have I become such a poor companion?”

“Yesterday...? Oh! No! Not at all.” The truth sounded so unconvincing. Kagome cleared her throat, “It’s my fault really. I’m not working hard enough.”

So lax in fact that what felt like a week to her had only been a full day at the Inn.

“You’ve done nothing but work since you’ve been here, dear. This tea is the only way I’ve gotten you to take a breather.” The Innkeeper tapped their brass kettle and laughed, “You’ve left me no choice but to break out the good stuff in fact!”

The Innkeeper closed one eye and leaned into Kagome, peering into her personal space, “Are you sure you’re not a swindler? How old are these robes?”

Kagome jumped, her body moving almost against her will away from the Innkeeper’s hands and eyes and questions. Setting the tea aside, Kagome tucked her knees, turned to her host and bent at the waist.

“I’m sorry!”

Her youthful energy nearly knocked the Innkeeper backwards, “I promise I’m not swindling you and if you have been swindled before, specifically by a Monk wearing purple robes, I’m sorry for that as well!”

The Innkeeper blinked, “Ah-well, thank you. I haven’t been swindled by a purple robed Monk yet, Priestess, but I’ll be on the lookout from now on. Thank you.”

Kagome was so happy her face was shielded from view. Her embarrassment should only been seen by the nicely polished floorboards after all. Why did she react so strongly?

“Do you perhaps have any parchment and ink?”

The Innkeeper smiled, wide and perfect, “Ah, so that’s it. You’re missin’ your lover!”

Kagome sat ramrod straight with a blush that could match the sky and the Innkeeper guffawed, rising slowly and steadily and a little shakily from their seating cushion. Kagome could hear them behind her saying things about youth and young love. Kagome swore right then to take her shinigami training much more seriously.

Night fell and Kagome was left alone with her bone white incense burner, parchment, ink, a slop of orange stars in the night sky and a freshly brewed pot of tea.

Would Sesshomaru know anything about this? He had become her encyclopedia on demonic tactics, trickery and horrors that befell sleepy villages that women disappeared from. Or would he be just as blind because he didn’t even know she was here? Was he waiting for her at home or had he come and gone to tend to more important matters?

She could write Sango, Sango slayed thousands of demons and had even begun record keeping but could Sango afford to leave? When Kagome left, it had just been them and Kaedae. Five days changed many things but not the distance it would take the boys to get back home to take up guard duty.

She wished Inuyasha were here.

She could send it to Jaken…

“Maybe I should ask Rin.” Kagome mused, figuring if she was going to think ridiculous things she may as well say ridiculous things. Then, only smart things would be left.

She put pen to paper and decided whichever name she wrote down would be the person she asked.

Dear Sesshomaru,

She blushed again. She never called him dear. Focus

I don’t know why I’m writing. It’s only been three nights but I miss you a lot so, maybe that’s it? Do I miss you?

Sighing, Kagome crossed that out and tried again.

Dearest Sesshomaru,

I miss you.

Sleep isn’t as restful and tea isn’t as sweet and, have you ever seen an orange sky? Not like the afternoon, we’ve had some of our best afternoons up there. Not like persimmons either. It's a strange, runny, bloody orange. I figured I’d ask you, being the blood expert. Let me know if I should’ve written Myoga instead.

I’m not very good at writing letters. I need your help.

Kagome held the parchment up to her red face, pursed her lips and inhaled. Then she placed the page face down, turned her face upwards and exhaled.

She hoped her words reached him.

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

When Kagome woke up the next morning, it was groggily facing the window. She had only come to this inn yesterday, but she was so tired. No matter, the Innkeeper said she could have free lodgings if she helped prepare the rooms and Kagome was eager to get to work.

She cleaned all four rooms quietly to not disturb the Innkeeper, she blessed the grounds and then, a bath sounded nice.

When Kagome woke up the next morning, it was groggily facing the window. She had only come to this inn yesterday, but she was so tired.

No matter. The Innkeeper said she could have free lodgings if she helped prepare the rooms and Kagome was eager to get to work.

She cleaned all three rooms quietly to not disturb the Innkeeper, she blessed the grounds and then, a bath sounded nice.

When Kagome woke up the next morning, it was groggily facing the window. She had only come to this inn yesterday, but she was so tired.

No matter.

The Innkeeper said she could have free lodgings if she helped prepare the rooms and Kagome was eager to get to work.

She cleaned three rooms quietly to not disturb the Innkeeper, she blessed the grounds and then…

She cleaned her room and the guest room quietly to not disturb the Innkeeper, she blessed the grounds and then…

Huh?

Kagome stopped cleaning the floorboards.

Why was she still at the Inn? The village was still up ahead.

Far off in the distance where she could see it touching the blood orange sky she definitely saw a village.

She definitely saw it.

If she just turned around and looked it would be there still and she could put one foot in front of the other without bidding a proper farewell to the Innkeeper and continue on her mission.

But, her head wouldn’t move.

Her body wouldn’t move.

“Thank Heavens,” said the Innkeeper from far away, from above, from below, “You know girlie, you used up all my water.”

“Lord Sesshomaru!” Rin’s voice rang out and Sesshomaru heeded her immediately with Sango in tow, Hiraikotsu firmly in her grasp.

“Mama! The rain is clearing up!” Sango children crowded around her hips gleeful and fed and Sango leaned down to them.

“And how long was it raining?”

“14 days!” Her eldest daughter piped up, her siblings agreeing.

“What is it, Rin?” He watched the girl and Jaken attempt to gather all of the fur into their arms to avoid getting dirty as they made their way to him but the mud hardly mattered. Why was Mokomoko leaning at all?

“A message appeared, My Lord!” Jaken squealed from behind, his stubby form holding up the latter pelt while Rin stood on tip-toe to reveal its underside. Sesshomaru’s frown deepened and he reached for the soggy thing and it dried immediately before affixing itself around his shoulders. It was heavy with holy magic and would remain sluggish until the holy magic was removed and Sesshomaru only knew of one Priestess who could place such intent upon him at such close proximity.

It was even in her handwriting. And as the weather cleared, her scent came at him with a force it hadn’t had in fourteen days. His hand gripped the pelt tighter when Sango came over to survey the message.

“Dearest Sesshomaru, I miss you?” She read aloud.

With his free hand Sesshomaru waved his palm over the words and captured the false letters in his hand then placed his palm up. The letters evaporated like steam and he caught whiffs of tea and polished floors and blood not her own.

Sango could say she’d never seen steam with feelings until her eyes caught those last glimpses of Sesshomaru’s stoic face crack in anger before clouds of billowing smoke swallowed him up until he vanished.

…Was that snow?

“What trickery is this, witch?”

Kagome squinted.

No, not snow, though the consistency was similar. Small, white petals fell from a large, white cloud that descended from above the grounds, creating a flurry that threw the Innkeeper off kilter as it clumped into their ears and nose and sucked into the Innkeeper’s indignant maw.

A larger shadow fell over Kagome and she felt instantly relieved.

Sesshomaru made time for the brief caress of her cheek and Kagome swooned a tad before Sesshomaru caught one of the falling petals on his fingers and pressed it to Kagome’s lips.

“Sesshomaru,” Tension easing from body, Kagome nuzzled her cheek into his palm, “I did miss you.”

He brought their faces closer, “You were expecting Myoga.” He accused her.

“Obviously.” She giggled, “But you’ll do.”

While Kagome waited for the feeling to return to her legs, Sesshomaru surveyed the area for irregularities.

… There. The strange, orange liquid attempting to bubble itself back into a brass teapot sitting on the veranda. That was irregular.

Sesshomaru shot out his hand and produced his poison whip, snapping it across the liquid surface and causing it to bubble. The Innkeeper retook a human form from the reaction, their yowl agonizing and arms blistering.

“Guess that means my letter worked?”

”Well enough.” He lifted the side of mokomoko that her words ink-stained into the underside.

“I can get that out.”

Sesshomaru rolled his eyes. The Innkeeper was struggling so he tightened his grip.

“I just need to get–”

He turned and shook his hair to the side, revealing her weapons attached at his hip. Even with his back turned, Sesshomaru could feel Kagome’s grateful expression while she removed the bow and quiver.

He harshly flicked his wrist and sent the demon skyward to screech and snarl into the blood orange sky. Above all else, Sesshomaru could not stand much more of the noise that was drowning out their conversation. At least this way he could admire the way Kagome adjusted her aim.

“This One had already been looking for you.”

Kagome could barely concentrate on charging her arrow when he was being such a sweet-talker, “Thank you for finding me, my Lord.”

Her arrow struck the teapot and Sesshomaru’s acid did quick work of the false form.

As the demon puddled to the ground, Kagome placed her sleeve over her mouth as she approached. She waved two fingers in a uniform pattern across the puddle and it purified. Then she raised her fingers and chanted, and the sky began to resemble the sky, the sun was setting, the horizon was empty and her mission was complete.

Sesshomaru stepped next to her when it was done and offered her his hand to take. She obliged, then laced their fingers together.

“What of the Inn?”

“I’ve been purifying it for the last few days. The spirits left easily enough because they didn’t want to be there in the first place. They wanted to keep walking toward the horizon.”

Sesshomaru looked to the horizon, but all he saw was the sunset, “Was there something there?”

“Something for anyone who's looking.” Kagome answered in her strange way. Sesshomaru was certain she didn’t even notice when she spoke nonsensically.

“Hungry?” Kagome questioned perkily, “Only the tea was cursed. The snacks weren’t bad. And we have the whole place to ourselves.”

Kagome led Sesshomaru back to the Inn.

“Pardon the intrusi–Ah!” She stumbled backwards, caught by Sesshomaru’s big frame. When had he removed his armor?

“This One had been looking for you prior to your ‘invitation’.” His hand tightened in hers and Kagome gulped. Something was rubbing salaciously between the pleats of her hakama.

“O-oh? Well, you found me. Did I thank you for that yet?”

“You are about to.” Sesshomaru bent over her and her body followed slightly until they were both on their knees at the door.

Kagome could always see things behind her but it was a different thrill entirely to somehow feel the grin slipping over Sesshomaru’s lips.

“Pardon the intrusion.” He whispered.

#sesskag #sesskag fluff week #SKFW23 #sesskag fanfiction #ok I haven't written anything since maybe 2016? idk its been a long time and I didn't know what to edit out and what to keep ugh #hopefully there is enough fluff? I feel like there's not enough fluff lol I got to excited about writing I forgot to make it more fluff #demiko #fic tag: demiko #I didn't know where to fit the dialogue prompt so I just didn't lol if I did this would've been a gratuitously fluffy fiction #I hope you enjoy!#I want to do more art + fiction I find this really satisfying ugh I love some illustration with a story #the original idea for this was going to be Sesshomaru just missing Kagome a lot like literally he keeps trying to go on dates #but she's too busy and they keep narrowly missing her and it was going to have hurt puppy sesshomaru lol #but I ended up exploring Kagome's trip more dangit. More Sess emotion to come then!#yoart

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 8 months

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Deliciously dark! Aemond taking his pet/wife (Dark!Aemond x oc) ((snow falls chapter 21, but can be read as a standalone for its all shameless smut anyway:)) The prince and the fox

You are Willa Wyldewoods, lady of Wyldecrest. After being denied your hand in marriage, Aemond murders your family and makes himself Lord of WyldeCrest, out-powering you. He claims you as his wife and spoils, He commands and goes over your home now and as you will learn right now: No one is safe under his reign. Not even you

WARNINGS: Especially for this chapter: Dark!Aemond (DUH!) ((We don't do half-blends here, he's 100% dark! Aemond slightly neglecting OC, but not on purpose (hes just busy) Slavery, abortion, non-con, insecure mc is willing to do anything to please her hubby and ...well hubby's mostly pissed lol. Sexist Aemond, unfeminstic Aemond, godcomplex/innocent kink as well as dom/sub themes,spankings, fucking, spitting, aemond degrading his pet and poorly translated high valyrian:)

It is late when you are preparing for your act. Aemond is still working, as his duties keep him late. Aurelia has put you into a new gown with a lot of leather and see-through fabrics, complicated designs, and confusing straps. You are also wearing more and brighter makeup than usual. Aurelia forbade you to braid your hair; it had to be loose and wild. You notice it tangles, and you absently play with a lock.

It is an uncomfortable long silence that follows. You both sit on the bed of Aemond and wait for him to appear. You hear Aurelia sigh impatiently. "Why does he even have to stay that late? He's a prince. He can quit whenever he likes. Have servants do his biding." You are a little confused by her description. For a girl that knows Aemond...

She has no idea who he is. That is more Aegon's style. Aemond would never do that. "He isn't as his brother. Aemond takes great pride and joy into fulfilling his duties. To hand it to a servant, he would never entertain such a thought." You tell her. "He is proud and stubborn.'

She sounds jealous when she speaks next. "You know him quite well. The Aemond I know does not care for duty. All He cares about is his cock." You wonder how the two of them became enemies or whatever it is they are.

"How did you meet?" You ask.

She smiles at you, though there is pain in her eyes. She proudly recalls how she meet the prince. You assume at a ball. Perhaps during a romantic storm and they both sheltered in the same building. Or he hired her in a brothel. "I was a 15th nameday present." Your eyes widen.

She is truly a slave. You are shocked. Your terror and pity are very amusing to her. "I am just as you, little snowflake. A dirty little spent slave bitch. Sold by my parents to Aemond as a gift by Aegon. You know what he told me, before he raped me the first time? That it was such a honour to be bestowed the possibility of carrying a son for the prince.' You feel shivers run.

You tear up even by her horrible description. Aemond had a slave. A slave he raped. "What if you had a girl?" You whisper soft. "What would he have done with you?' There is a chance that one day, you might give him a daughter as well. That would be a child he does not want. He once told you girls can be married off, and that is their use. Men will be heirs. Women will be property.

There is a long silence as you notice her fingers distantly rubbing her own stomach. "I did. Aegon handled it." Handled it. Handled it how?

Your mind draws the worst conclusion immensely fast. "They took the babe away from you?" You guess they put her into an orphanage.

She does not even hide the truth. "They gave me a potion. I spiralled, passed out, and woke up without any child in my belly, covered in my own blood, the remains of my child." So they did not even know for certain that the babe was a boy or a girl. They just saw a complication and went to solve it the easy way. With knives and poison.

You are disgusted. "Why would Aemond allow this?"

She scoffs. "Aemond? Aemond only liked me for one night. Aegon fucked me all the others. Aemond took my maidenhead, I spent the entire night sobbing. He hit me a few times to shut me up. He did apologise for it in the morning."

"I found him later fighting with his brother. They were screaming at one another and Aemond wanted to know if he still had the reciet to me. He wished to trade me for a unexperienced girl at the brothel."

"He would trade you just as that? For another girl?" Your heart bleeds. You have the feeling Aemond one day will do the same with you. Trade you for another girl. A younger, prettier, more innocent girl.

Aurelia frowns at you as if she is conflicted. "I pity you, little snowflake. It is a wonder you survived Aemond that long." She sighs sweetly. "I will take the lead during tonight's events. Aemond already thinks me a slut, you can be the innocent doe eyed girl and just be fucked."

Finally your husband enters. You have missed him so badly. You miss the way she smells as leather and burned wood. You missed the sound of his breathing and even the sight of his scar. You missed everything about him in a way you didn't knew you could miss someone that much.

Aemond has not seen you two yet and kicks out his boots first, put his coat over the chair by his desk and sights so deeply that you want to rub his back to comfort him. He takes a few steps back and turns, eying you finally in your new outfit with your new friend.

You have trouble reading your husband. You always have but now more than usual. You keep staring at him, waiting for any reaction.

He stares at both of you, tangled up together for him and him alone. For his pleasure. You wonder how you'll handle Aurelia touching Aemond. You don't like that thought very much.

Aurelia chuckles when slowly touching your breasts. "Good evening, my prince." She purrs at him when you are silent. She rolls you on your front and exposes your behind. She softly smacks you, lifting your gowns for him. He takes in your naked behind, fascinated by your lack of undergarments. "Greet him." She tells you.

You greet him as you always would. "Hello, husband." You say. "We eh thought you might wish to see us both tonight. We will do as you desire, husband." You speak soft as you practiced. Aurelia rolls her eyes at you.

"Don't mind your little pet, my prince. I am learning her all the deliciously dark things you like. She will be turned into a pretty whore once we are done here. It will be as if you took her from the silk of streets yourself." You gulp at her description.

Aemond leans in, breathing in your direction. You turn away, avoiding his gaze. He grabs your chin and forces his fingers to trace over your lips before he looks at your naked breasts. "You think I want anyone else fucking this little cunny?" His fingers go deep inside of you and you nearly grunt with anticipation. You buck helplessly but by the time you have processes his touch he is gone; leaving you high and hungry.

Aemond continues, rubbing your nippels and forcing your mouth open so he can ravish your mouth with a wicked smile on his lips. His eye shimmers beautifully and you are moaning helplessly against his powerful attack you can not fend off. "You think I want anyone else, touching what I died, fought and bled for? You think I want you to rise, crumble, and fall with anyone else but me in your mind, little fox?" He roars, firing himself up with his speech as well yourself. You tremble on the bed, and your hands are touching your clit. You rub eagerly, chasing the pleasure.

"I-" You mutter helpless, clutching your wetness and closing your eyes. Aurelia is slightly shocked behind you and she chuckles lightly when spanking your exposed cunt causing you to whimper it out in pure pain.

Aemond watches, his hands folded on his back. You assume discipline will be in order. You will be dragged, smacked, spanked, owned fucked and spend and sprayed upon. You will be a bunny fighting a wolf. You know who will top you. Who will force you into submission and who will enjoy your spoils and proclaim his victory over your body.

Aemond Targaryen. You weakly mutter a excuse for your behaviour as it becomes clear that Aemond is not aroused at all. You feel foolish. Ugly, even. "I only did it for you." You confess .

He lets out a wicked long laugh. He inspects your cunt, pushing your legs wide so he can see you properly. Nothing is hidden from him. He wets his finger tip and brings it it your soaked little cunt, making a few perfect circles that break your core and alight your soul. Your hips are grabbed by Aurelia and she brings them to Aemonds fingers. You are caught between them, helpless. You wish to speak again but Aemond covers your mouth with his hand, and you find it a little too exciting and clench your pussy muscles causing the finger to be taken deeper.

You beg aemond with your eyes for mercy and understanding. He only scoffs, a wicked gleam in his one good eye and a cruel smirk on his lips "O, Hush. You'll be silent until I have figured out a proper punishment for your treason."

You freeze, terrified. Aurelia is escorted out of the room by Aemond's hard voice. "Out, whore. Out. You corrupted my perfect pretty pet already. Crawl back to Aegon.'

He turns to you, his Submissive little dirty bad pet. He sighs, shaking his head, clicking his tongue. You feel your eyes wander, too frightend to look at Aemond. He slams the door causing you to flinch. He smirks, enjoying your fear.

When he speaks his voice is a mocking soft tone. "My sweet little naive pet. It appears I can't leave you alone without proper supervision anymore."

He might go back to restricting you or giving you a guard. Perhaps he will tie your hands on your back and chain you to the bed as his whore. You picture yourself trying to break free as his cock pounds you relentlessly, taking out his displeasure and anger on you. A small needy pressure between your legs reminds you are wet. "I can be left alone, husband. I have a been a good girl. This is all a misunderstanding..." You desperately try to explain yourself.

He scoops your asscheeks, making sure that you feel the pressure and warmth of his fingers. "I don't care, my little fox. You have proven to me that you need a big punishment." He whispers in your ear causing you to shiver and to twist on the bed. "You will be dealt with accordingly. You want to be a whore? You'll be treated as one." You let out a soft whimper as Aemond takes place behind you, first spanking you with the palm of his hand.

Once he thinks you have learned your lessons you crawl away from him only to be dragged back by your hair. You whimper in pain. "Ow Ow Ow Ow!"

"I didn't say you could leave." This time he changes his spankings into ruthless slaps that make your asscheeks jiggle with each crushing blow.

It is not spanking. It is slapping. He smacks down harder and harder as you come closer to where you wish to be. Your legs are parted and Aemond's finger eases in, you welcome him home.

Your breasts dangle as he slaps your asscheeks, inflicting anger and shame upon you. You are turning wet on his lap, cursing yourself for ir. You wish he would never discovered that you enjoy this brutal activity.

Aemond hushes you as you whimper, true tears spreading and clouding your vision. You are begging on your knees for him. "Please, husband. I only need the cock a few moments. You can have me as you like. I'll be your dirty little pet."

"Repeat after me: I am Aemond's little pet. My cunt is his and his alone. I will never commit treason to my husband again. The next time I need my pussy fucked, I come to him so he can fuck me, as is proper between man and wife."

You have no trouble repeating that. Desire dulls out your pride. You wait for him to continue. "Now, my little pet. You've had your pleasure." So it is time he will get his.

Excitement makes a slave out of you, eager to please your husband as you watch as he takes his pants off. His cock is red and swollen and pre cum drips down from it. You force your mouth under it, capturing the little drops of cum with soft moans and precision. "You will do your duties or I will punish you severely. Do you understand?" He whispers when a soft drop of cum splashes on your tongue, setting your body on fire.

You nod. "Yes, my Prince."

"You will refer to me as master or you'll be quiet."

You softly kiss his balls first, licking them for him. You taste cum and sweat a delicious combination that makes your cunt clench and your breath catch. You ease the tip of the cock inside your mouth, letting Aemond feel the muscles of your mouth work and softly message his length as he pushes it deeper and deeper inside of you. You start to suck.

A few drops of delicious cum are granted right away for your hard work. "That is it, little dirty whore. Take every drop I give you. You best swallow it all."

The erected cock leaves your mouth and you watch as it is pushed between your breasts. Aemond forces your fingers around his cockhead and you are watching speechlessy as he slowly paints your chests with a few beautiful white almost see-through drops of his cum.

You turn on your knees for him, so he may fuck you now that he is erected and hard. You clench your little cunny muscles already feeling the cock pound you without mercy or consideration. You'll be owned as a whore this time. It is what you always wanted from him but never could mutter outloud.

You repeat the words after him, desperately to get them right. "I am your whore. My cunt is yours. Please, my good master. I need to be humiliated. I need to be taught what it means to be a whore." You whisper.

You are met with silence. You beg him. You tear up. Until you feel a push in your back that forces you on all fours. You try 5o escape but are pulled back in a way that makes you gasp and giggle. Aemond smirks. "That was the answer." His cock meets your soaked entrance lips, pushing in gentle and soft at first. Your wetness makes for a very soft and smooth entering, causing Aemond to take you as deep as he can.

He stretches you out in a way, opening you up to him by slowly making his way inside of you, pushing forward as a soldier sieging a castle. Your moans and begs are desperate but ignored. It isn't long that you are filled completely by his thick and big shaft as your face gets wrinkles of pain and dedication.

"I feel your clenching. You are trying to milk my cock dry, aren't you, filthy whore?" You do just that. You don't even realize Aemond could feel you tighten around him as you do that. You repeat the process when nodding furiously. You feel him pounding away at your pussy, as spots cloud your vision. "Whores don't get to consent. They take the work they are given." He tells you when you are relentlessly pounded by his thick shaft. It hurts and yet you like the way it stretches you out. You tighten your muscles around him once more, eager for his release. He should coat your pussy with his cum. You are beyond wet and begging, your breath a soft pant.

He forces you to speak suddenly. "Tell me, slut. Do you wish to deprive me of my cum? Is that what you are trying to do with your pussy muscles?" He chuckles as you cry out once more crying.

You nod instead of lying. Instead of honourable you wish to get fucked. "Yes. It's...O...Good..."

"Since you can't make proper sentences and speak to your master with respect, you'll be silent." He tells you. The cock pounds harder and faster, ignoring your cries as he fully takes you with long hard possessive trusts. Your moans feel the room. Grunts and moans of pain leave your mouth as well as useless begs. You are owned by the prince.

You are so close. You brace yourself. Aemond notices your change very well and smugly pulls out. You watch his soaked cock, shimmering with your own transparent wetness as well as his own cum. You wish he would force it in your face so you can suck it clean for him. Your wifely duties have always fasinated you and you can't help but wish that one day Aemond would make use of you the way a owner makes use of his property. A good throat fucking when you suck and lick his balls for him, encouraging him to release himself inside your mouth. You would love nothing more to be grabbed and instead be injected into your face, the cum showing everyone at court what a whore you are. You fantasies take you further and deeper.

Aemond sits the iron throne, wearing a crown when having his legs crossed. He orders his guards to hand you to him. The entire court is present. Around dozens of people. His rich voice fills the room. "You are all here today because I commanded you all. You will see what my Willa, my little fox can do." He removes his pants very quickly and you are pushed on the throne. Your legs are spread and you are fucked when sitting the rough iron chair. You moan and gasp as your husband fucks you bloody on the throne, the iron causing small cuts and displeasure. He throws you as a animal on the hard grounds of the castle as you sob in pleasure, bucking your hips as he brutally takes you on your knees proving his dominance over you by ruthless pounding that makes you cry and beg. Noble ladies look fasinated with the prince's hard work, eager to have his cock for their own. You posessivly clench once more and start to clench repeating the process as he groans. You are milking him as he calls it. You will store all his cum inside of you, the way a dragon stores his treasure in his cave.

You are pounded as hard as Aemond can give his grunts and groans becoming harder. You need a big one. A good one. He takes a break, letting himself out...

Before slamming back inside of you, sending you closer and closer to the edge. "Such a good whore for me." He mutters to himself as he throws himself back inside of you, devouring your innocence and claiming you as his spoils. He pounds harder, pounding faster, pounding intenser. He pounds away at your body as your cries become a little louder. "I will make you cum you slut." He vows gripping your hips, driving himself inside of you as if you are a fallen soldier and he is a knife. You wish he would. You know he can.

He pounds away at you, until you are screaming incoherently and your lungs hurt from the cries. Your face is stained with sweat and tears as your husband makes his claim. He trusts even faster encouraged by your cries and your whimpers. "Beg for me." He groans.

You let go of your last bits of pride. "Please, husband." Your throat hurts when you Speak. He takes you mercilessly at this point. The pleasure kills you yet brings you back to life. You want it to stop but not that ends.

Your hips are grabbed tightly as Aemond takes a few deep breaths. "Scream for me. Let me hear how much you crave what I am giving you." He groans darkly. You nod weakly.

You scream for him, certainly loud enough for people outside the room to hear but you don't care. You wish to be good. "Aemond!"

Aemond takes you faster and faster and the line between paradise and reality blurs and blurs further and further. You hear the sound of flesh slapping against flesh as he takes you harder and harder he takes the control of you. "Say it. Say you will never belong to anyone else again." He whispers in your ear.

"I am yours. Only yours, husband, my master. My prince. My lord. My only one...My king."

Aemond eyes widen as he takes is these titles and your praise. You never been this bold before. He likes it. "Thank you, my sweetest little fox." He whispers before kissing your lips tasting his own cum on it. You nod, panting.

Aemond steadies himself. All it takes is one final push for the kinslayer to release his cum and load deep inside of you. You clench once more, eager to milk his cock when the cum flows so richly. You buck your hips desperately when Aemond curses in what you assume is high Valyrian. He finishes with a brute and inconsiderate pound, glaring at you as a animal.

It is enough to send you over the edge, causing you to fall down and to let go. Your body locks and tightens as Aemond takes it rapidly now, encouraging you to continue this marvelous show. He continues to pound a few times and with a slap on your ass and a hiss he sends you down for good. "My little fox, you will come now. You will soak yourself for your master. Show me. Show me what a marvelous whore I made."

With his approval and his approval alone, you finish in front of him, clutching him tightly inside of you when you cry out his name begging for mercy you are not worthy of.

Aemond Targaryen takes you in as you lay there, your cunt spend, wet and dripping. Your chest decorated with his cum and even your lips drip of saliva and cum. You feel tired and statisifed. You stop Aemond.

You need to tell him. Now. "Aemond; I have something to tell you." You whisper soft.

Aemond freezes and waits. You hesitate. His voice speaks and yoi hear a unfamiliar phrase as he touches your face gently. "Avy jorrāelan, willa. Issa byka dyni. Issa prince. Issa dāria. Issa jaesa. Issa ōños isse se zōbrie. Nyke jāhor zālagon dārȳti syt ao, nyke jāhor ossēnagon lī qilōni ōdrikagon īlva se daorun jāhor nykeōragon isse īlva ñuhoso. Avy jorrāelan, issa ābrazȳrys."

You don't know what he says to you. You become insecure. "Are you upset, my husband?" You ask worried.

Aemond sighs, smirking. "Go to sleep. When you have behaved tomorrow, I will share the translation." You nod, eager to please him. Aemond tucks you in and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead before he joins you under the soft blankets. Unaware to you, he does not sleep. He only glares at the door eager to get out. He has something to do.

(next chapter will be aemond pov)

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