#Rape by Deception cw

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Deer's Prince(ss)

Male Deertaur Yandere x Feminized Male Wolf Hybrid Reader (CW: Noncon, feminization, misgendering, inhuman genitalia, breeding, fingering, overstimulation, reader fucked out of their mind, chasing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.1k

You were sprinting through the forest, running from the prince who owned you.

Under normal circumstances, you would have been able to move a lot more stealthily and gracefully, but continued captivity had dulled your senses and abilities.

When the kingdom of the deertaurs finally won the decades long war against the wolf folk they demanded many things in the treaty to end the war.

One of the things they demanded was a princess to marry their son, marriage was a typical way to seal an agreement of peace.

But there was no princess, instead they took you. And Prince Inthil had made you into his princess. Treating you like a dainty flower instead of the proud wolf hybrid that you were! Going so far as to even dress you in frilly dresses and address as a girl… and bed you as one too…

Having had as much as you could handle you fled. You tore off the female clothing and ran naked into the woods. Treaty be damned, you didn’t deserve this!

But being pampered as a fragile little lady had made your footfalls heavy and clumsy, it may have been enough to outrun a human, but certainly not Prince Inthil. His deceptively lean body was fast and powerful, four legs carrying him like he was the wind itself.

Suddenly you felt a sharp yank on your arm. You shuddered as Inthil pulled you close, you had thought you were still a bit ahead of the deer man.

His creepy grin looked even more sinister under the light of the moon, his long blond hair softly glowing, and his eyes looking at you with twisted adoration and amusement.

If you had only been looking at his face you may have mistaken him for a beautiful woman. But his muscles, body hair on his human half, and antlers on his head proved otherwise.

“Hello my lady~ You mustn’t run off like that, it is far too dangerous for a little girly to be running around in the woods at night by herself! If you wanted a moonlit stroll, I would have accompanied you~”

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he was powerful. He lifted you up and pressed you against a tree.

“If my father knew my wife ran off like that it could start a war! Don’t worry princess, I won’t tell. After all, I am sure it just slipped your mind to ask me to come with you, RIGHT?!”

As he said that last word he roughly pulled you forward then slammed you back against the rough bark. It did not hurt much, but you gasped in surprised.

Prince Inthil took this opportunity and kissed you deeply. Hungrily. His tongue swirling around yours as it invaded your mouth.

You shivered. He finally broke the kiss, leaving you both panting for oxygen.

“Are you cold? You’re shaking so much. I know what will warm you up.”

He stroked your cheek tenderly, but you knew what that look and tone of voice meant.

You growled, baring your teeth as your tail bristled and your ears moved back, almost flat, against your head.

“Awe, I bet a nice breeding will help your sour mood too…”

There were no clothes for him to pull off of you this time. He laid you down on the cool forest floor. You started to move but he stomped a hoof on you with enough force for you to get the memo.

You did what was expected of you. Keeping your face down you arched your ass up.

“My bitch must be in heat to present her pussy so nicely for me~” He cooed in his sickeningly sweet voice.

You were sniffing as tears rolled down your face uncontrollably. You were a man and you didn’t want this, what had you ever done to anyone to deserve being forced to be a girl and raped constantly.

“Don’t cry my love. I always make love with you gently, I know how delicate you are~”

You didn’t care how gentle he was, it was still against your will and sometimes forced with a bit of pain. Like just now when he had stomped his hoof on you.

You could feel his slimy cock rubbing up against your hole, eager to slide into you, but he made himself resist the lure of your insides for a moment while he prepped you.

He did this by using the tip of his prick to massage your entrance, and lather it in precum.

Then he slowly, bit by bit, slid into your ass. He gasped as he entered you.

“G-gods princess , your cunt is amazing~”

You just fit him so well, it was like sliding into a warm glove made specifically for his 10in cock.

He was large and powerful, and like always he had to resist just pounding into you with reckless abandon. It took all his power not to.

But he had to make sure you were treated like the frail lady that you were, it wouldn’t do for him to harm a princess, it would be unthinkable.

So instead he savored it, and eventually his careful ministrations were met with your beautiful little whimpers and moans of pleasure.

You always tried to stifle them away from him, but you never managed to.

His cock was kissing your walls so tenderly, touching that spot inside you that he always seemed to find.

Prince Inthil managed to coax several orgasms out of you, making you pant and gasp with each thrust into your overstimulated body. You couldn’t help humping into your hand, desperately seeking another release as his balls finally emptied into you.

“You make such lovely sounds when we make love~”

He picked up your cum leaking body and held you close, you were so fucked out that you couldn’t do anything, your arms were like jelly from being in that pose for so long.

You muttered something incomprehensible and went limp as he put you over his shoulders. He chose to interpret the noises as a declaration of love.

“Awe, I love you too. I knew all you needed was a good breeding~”

The prince kissed the top of your head softly before smiling to himself. He just had the most wonderful idea. He’d quite like to hear those cute sounds of yours on the way home.

As he slowly hauled you back home he slid a couple fingers into your cum-lubed ass, eliciting more of those cute little gasps and moans, albeit tired and weaker ones, from your pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry darling, when we get back we can mate some more before I clean you up."

[hoe4hotchner]

Bound by the sea | [A.H]

Pairing: Pirate!Hotch x fem!Reader

CW: Is this maybe enemies to lovers??? Perhaps, I don't know, because Hotch isn’t really an enemy as much as he just kidnapped you. Kidnapping, non-consensual captivity, emotional distress, hints of violence, violence, manipulation, power dynamics, light danger, robbery, plundering, alcohol consumption, mild aggression, emotional tension, hints of romance, weapons. Loneliness, blood. Hotch is a brutal pirate when he steals from people, Y/N used twice, I mention rum a lot, and there’s a moment in the latter half of the story where I really wanted Hotch to say, "Minions, tonight we steal the moon!"—if you can spot it, you're a legend. No sex, but I hint at the possibility of rape twice if you're not careful as a pirate—not mentioned directly, you have to read between the lines. Maybe there’s a wedding, who knows? Pirate talk—is that even a warning

WC: 15.5k

Summary: Hotch is a pirate, he kidnaps you, you adapt to the life and fall in love with him.

A/N: I'm sorry this is so long, but I got carried away and couldn't stop. Enjoy!

Based on this moodboard

           The night was thick with the scent of saltwater and the hum of the ocean beneath you, a blanket of inky darkness stretching over the horizon. Waves rocked the ship gently, a deceptive lull to the chaos you’d been thrown into. You sat in the dimly lit cabin, your wrists bound together with rope rougher than what was necessary, and the memory of how you’d gotten here was still a vivid blur.

           One moment, you had been safe in your bed on your father's estate - untouchable, or so you thought. And the next, you were dragged away from the safety of your home by men who smelled a little too much of rum and sea air, with no explanation other than your value as a hostage.

           Your captor - Captain Aaron Hotchner - was the man behind it all. He had led the raid on your father’s estate, taking you as a prize, a bargaining chip to use against the very people you called family. You had heard of Captain Hotchner before - feared and revered across the seas, known for his cruelty and cunning. But nothing had prepared you for the man himself.

           The door to the cabin creaked open, and your heart raced as the figure of Captain Hotchner stepped inside, his silhouette imposing against the lantern's flickering light. He was tall, dressed in his dark, weather-worn captain's coat, his eyes gleaming with intensity and amusement as they landed on you.

           "Good evening," he said, his voice smooth and unsettlingly calm. "I trust you’re settling in well."

           You glared at him, feeling the fire of anger in your chest rise. “You kidnapped me,” you spat, trying to tug at your bindings though it was no use. "How do you expect me to settle in when you’ve stolen me from my home?"

           Hotch smiled - an infuriating, almost charming smile that didn't belong on the face of a pirate. He stepped closer, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor until he was standing in front of you, towering over you with a confidence that made your skin prickle.

           "Kidnapped, stolen - such harsh words," he mused, crossing his arms casually. "I prefer to think of it as... relocation. You’re safe here, aren’t you?"

           Safe? The very idea made you laugh bitterly. “You’re a pirate. I’m your prisoner. How could I possibly be safe?”

           He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if considering your words. "You wound me," he said with mock offense. "I’ve taken you from the dangers of the land - away from a world of treachery and deception. Your father has enemies, you know. He’s made more than a few people unhappy. Here, under my care, no harm will come to you."

           You stared at him, incredulous. He truly believed what he was saying - like he had done you a favor by dragging you away in the dead of night.

           “And what do you want in return?” you demanded, your voice sharp. “My father’s ransom?”

           Hotch’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took another step forward, kneeling before you so he was at your eye level. You tried not to shrink back, but there was something undeniably intimidating about him - something dark and unyielding.

           “Your father’s wealth, his power... perhaps,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But you, my dear, are far more valuable than any gold or ransom.”

           Your breath hitched at his words, and you stared at him, trying to decipher his intentions. The way he spoke, the way his eyes held yours - it was unnerving. There was a dangerous charm to him, a magnetic pull that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t understand.

           “I don’t understand,” you whispered, unable to hide the tremor in your voice.

           Captain Hotchner leaned in closer, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “You will,” he murmured, his voice was dark and teasing as if he held all the cards and you were merely a pawn in his game of chess. “In time, you’ll see that there's a reason for everything I do, that being here, with me, is far better than anything your former life could offer.”

           You shook your head, your chest tight with anger and fear. “You’re mad,” you said with a laugh, your voice was barely above a whisper.

           “Am I?” he asked, his smile never faltering. “Or am I the only person being truly truthful with you, are you just too used to your comfortable, sheltered life to see that there’s more to the world than you’ve been told?”

           You wanted to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, that there was nothing good about being held captive by a pirate who acted as charming as he was dangerous. But the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his fingers brushed against your arm, sent a shiver down your spine. There was something intoxicating about him, something that made your skin tingle under his touch, even though every rational part of you knew you should be terrified, that you should fight.

           “You’ll come around,” he said softly, his voice a promise laced with darkness. “You’ll see that I’m not your enemy, no matter what you’ve been taught to believe.”

           You shook your head again, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his proximity. “I’ll never trust you.”

           Captain Hotchner chuckled softly, his hand coming up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to look into his eyes. “We’ll see about that,” he whispered, his tone soft yet menacing. “For now, I suggest you get some rest. You’ll need your strength in the days to come.”

           And with that, he stood, giving you one last, lingering look before turning to leave the cabin. The door creaked shut behind him, and you were left alone once more, your heart racing and your mind swirling with confusion and anger.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The quiet after his departure felt heavier than the moments before. Your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions - fear, anger, and something else, something unsettling that lingered in your chest. Aaron Hotchner was no ordinary pirate. He was calm and controlled - far more composed than the brash, ruthless men you had imagined when thinking of the pirates in the stories your father used to tell you about. And that made him infinitely more dangerous.

           You tried to settle into the small cot in the corner of the cabin, though the ropes binding your wrists made it difficult. Sleep seemed impossible, with thoughts of escape and Captain Hotchner's strange charm keeping you on edge. You needed a plan - anything to break free from the hold he seemed to have, not just over your body but your mind as well.

           Hours passed, or perhaps it was minutes - you had lost all sense of time. The creaking of the ship, the distant voices of the crew, and the gentle rocking of the waves became a maddening rhythm that you couldn’t escape. Every sound reminded you of where you were, trapped aboard a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean with no way out.

           Just as your frustration reached its peak, the door creaked open again. You shot up, heart pounding, expecting to see Hotch again. Instead, it was one of his crewmembers, a gruff man with a scar running down his cheek. He held a tray with food and water, setting it down on the small wooden table in the corner without a word. His eyes lingered on you for a moment - an unsettling, assessing look - but he said nothing and left just as quickly as he had come.

           You stared at the tray. The food was simple - bread, cheese, and some sort of dried meat - but your stomach growled in protest at the sight. Still, you hesitated, unsure if eating meant giving in to your captors somehow, letting them win this small battle. But the gnawing hunger eventually overpowered your pride, and you carefully tore a piece of bread, your eyes flicking nervously toward the door as if the captain would appear again.

           Hours seemed to pass like this—alone with your thoughts, pacing the small cabin. The door remained closed, and every creak of the ship made you jump. You knew Captain Hotchner was playing some kind of game with you, keeping you waiting, on edge. It was a test of endurance, and you were determined not to break.

           But when the door finally opened again, your heart still leapt into your throat. This time, it was him.

           Captain Hotchner strode into the room with the same quiet authority as before. He had discarded his heavy coat, revealing a simple white shirt, the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, but it did nothing to soften the intensity of his presence. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as his eyes swept over you.

           “You didn’t eat much,” he observed, his voice casual but with that underlying edge.

           “I’m not hungry,” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest defensively to the best of your ability.

           Captain Hotchner's lips twitched in a smile that was more knowing than amused. He pushed off from the door and crossed the small room in a few strides, standing close enough that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. There was something predatory in the way he moved.

           “You’re strong-willed,” he said softly, his voice was almost admiring. “I expected no less from someone like you.”

           Your heart raced at his proximity, but you refused to back down. “Someone like me?” you repeated, your voice shaking slightly despite your efforts to remain steady. “What do you mean by that?”

           He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. You flinched, fearing the worst, but didn’t pull away, determined not to show weakness.

           “Someone raised in luxury,” he murmured, his hand lingering as he spoke. “Used to having things your way. Butlers and maids waiting on your beg and call. It’s fascinating to watch how you adapt, how you try to hold on to that sense of control even when it’s been taken from you.”

           His words were like a challenge, one you couldn’t help but rise to.

           “I won’t adapt,” you snapped at him, your voice sharper now. “I won’t fall into whatever twisted game you’re playing.”

           He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. He withdrew his hand but remained close, his eyes never leaving yours. “Oh, I think you will,” he said, his tone was light but firm as if he had no doubt. “In time, you’ll see that this life - this ship and my crew - is not so different from the world you knew. There are rules, there’s power, and there are choices you'll have to make along the way.”

           “Choices?” you scoffed, incredulous. “You think I have a choice in any of this?”

           Captain Hotchner leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “There’s always a choice,” he whispered, his voice low with a tint of danger to it. “You can choose to fight me, resist, and make this more difficult for yourself. Or... you can choose to see things my way.”

           Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find words. The weight of his gaze, the intensity of his presence - it was overwhelming. And yet, beneath the fear and anger, there was something else. Something you didn’t want to admit to yourself.

           “I’ll never see things your way,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

           Captain Hotchner's smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll see about that, now won't we?” he said softly, his fingers brushing your cheek before he pulled away entirely. He straightened, his expression once again unreadable.

           “We’ll be docking soon,” he said, his tone shifting back to something more businesslike. “I suggest you prepare yourself.”

           “Docking? Where are you taking me?” you demanded, panic rising again.

           He didn’t answer immediately. He turned toward the door but paused just before opening it, glancing back at you with that same infuriating smile. “You’ll see soon enough.”

                                 ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           You stared at the door long after it closed, his parting words echoing in your mind like a dark promise. "You'll see soon enough." What did that even mean? Your thoughts churned with anxiety, but behind the fear, there was a wave of simmering anger - anger at Hotch for taking you, for speaking to you like he had all the control, and anger at yourself for the strange pull you felt whenever he was near.

           With a frustrated sigh, you tugged at the ropes around your wrists. They were tightly knotted, the rough fibers digging and burning into your skin, but you knew that getting out of them wasn’t going to be easy. Your eyes darted around the small cabin, searching for anything that could help. There was a chair, a desk, and a small and dull knife on the tray of food. If you could just get to it, maybe you’d have a chance.

           But the thought of escape wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. What would happen after? You were on a ship in the middle of the sea, surrounded by men who followed Captain Hotchner without question. Even if you managed to free yourself, where would you go?

           The door creaked open again before you could formulate a plan. You instinctively straightened, tension rippling through your body, but it wasn’t the captain this time. One of his crewmembers - this time a man with a crooked smile and a rough beard - entered the room, carrying what looked like a set of clothes.

           “The captain said you'd be needing this,” he said, tossing the bundle onto the bed without preamble.

           You eyed the clothes suspiciously, then looked back at the man. “What for?”

           The man grinned, his teeth yellowed and uneven. “For when we dock, missy. Can’t have you wandering around in that fancy dress. Might draw too much attention, y'know?”

           “And where exactly are we docking?” you asked, though you doubted you’d get a straight answer.

           The man just chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, echoing Captain Hotchner's earlier words. Without another word, he moved toward you, and before you could react, he reached down and began untying the ropes around your wrists.

           You flinched instinctively, unsure of his intentions, but his hands worked deftly, loosening the bindings until they fell away. The relief was immediate, the dull ache in your arms easing as you rubbed your sore wrists, shooting the man a wary glance.

           He stood up, giving you a crooked smile. “Don’t think about runnin’,” he warned, though there was no malice in his voice. “There’s nowhere to go but the sea. The captain will be feedin' ya to the sharks if you do.”

           With that, he turned and left, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

           You glanced down at the clothes - a simple tunic and trousers, nothing like the finely embroidered dress you’d been wearing when you were taken. The material was coarse but practical, the kind of thing someone working on a ship might wear. You supposed they wanted you to blend in, to look like one of them. The thought made your stomach twist, but you realized you didn’t have much choice. Captain Hotchner was right about one thing - you could fight and make this harder for yourself, or you could play along, at least until you figured out a way to turn the tables.

           With a sigh, you slipped off your dress and changed into the clothes, the rough fabric scratching against your skin. You had barely finished adjusting the trousers when you heard footsteps again, and before you could react, the door swung open.

           This time, it was in fact, Captain Hotchner.

           He stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in the change of attire with a faint smile. “Much better,” he said, his voice carrying that same quiet authority. “You’ll find it easier to move around like that.”

           “I didn’t exactly have a choice or an opportunity to move around before, did I?” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively.

           His smile deepened, though it was more like a smirk. “No, you didn’t.” He stepped further into the cabin, closing the door behind him, and the tension in the room thickened immediately. His presence was overwhelming, as it always was, but now there was something more - something almost... possessive in the way he looked at you.

           “I’m not your prisoner,” you said, trying to sound strong, though your voice wavered slightly.

           Captain Hotchner's eyes darkened, his smile fading as he took another step toward you. “Aren’t you?” he asked, his voice was low, almost a whisper, although you could sense a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re on my ship and in my world now. You’ll find that things here don’t work the way they do in yours.”

           His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you took a small step back, your heart racing. “And what exactly do you want from me?” you demanded, your voice firmer this time. “What’s your plan, Captain?”

           Captain Hotchner tilted his head, studying you for a long moment before answering. “I want you to see things my way,” he said simply. “To understand that what happens here - what we do - it’s all for survival. For power. You’re no different from us. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

           You shook your head, incredulous. “You kidnapped me! That’s not survival, that’s-”

           “Necessary,” He interrupted, his tone was cold and final. “Everything I do is necessary.”

           Your jaw clenched in frustration. He wasn’t just a pirate - he was something more dangerous. Someone who believed he was in the right, no matter how twisted his actions were. Someone who everyone feared in some way or the other. And that made him nearly impossible to reason with.

           Before you could retort, the captain stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and despite yourself, your breath hitched.

           “You’ll come to understand in time,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours. “They all did. You’re not my prisoner. You’re part of something much bigger now.”

           Your heart pounded in your chest, and you wanted to push him away, to fight back, but something about his voice, his presence - it made you hesitate.

           “I don’t want to be part of this,” you whispered, though the conviction in your voice had wavered.

           Captain Hotchner's hand lingered near your face, his fingers ghosting over your cheek for just a moment longer before he pulled back. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said softly, turning toward the door. “You already are.”

           You stood frozen, staring at the door long after it closed behind him, your mind racing with a storm of conflicting emotions. The gentle brush of his fingers against your skin lingered, as if the ghost of his touch was still there, seeping into your thoughts. Part of you wanted to scream, to lash out at the unfairness of your situation, at him - for being so impossibly frustrating, so self-assured in his warped view of things. But another part, a quieter part, couldn’t shake the unsettling pull you felt toward him, despite everything.

           You hated that part.

           With a deep breath, you sat down on the bed, your hands gripping the edge of the rough wooden frame, knuckles turning white at the sheer force of your grip. You couldn't let him get into your head. He may have you physically trapped, but you weren’t going to let him manipulate you. You had to find a way out, even if that meant playing along for now.

           As time passed, the ship swayed gently beneath you, the sounds of waves crashing against the hull and the muffled voices of the crew filling the silence of the cabin. Your mind wandered, thoughts drifting back to Captain Hotchner. The man was infuriatingly complex - dangerous and controlling, yet oddly gentle in his actions toward you. He had the power to command an entire crew of ruthless pirates, the power to kill, but something about the way he spoke to you, how he lingered, suggested he wasn’t just a ruthless villain like everyone made him out to be.

           But he was still your captor.

           A soft knock interrupted your thoughts. You tensed, expecting to see Hotch again, but instead, the door creaked open, revealing a younger crewmember. His clothes were worn, his hair tangled, and his face had a nervous energy about it. He stepped inside cautiously, holding a tray of food.

           “Captain’s orders,” he said quietly, placing the tray on the table near the bed with the other barely touched tray of food. “He said you should eat.”

           You didn’t respond, your eyes narrowing as you glanced at the tray. Bread, cheese, and what looked like some sort of stew this time. Simple but more than you expected from pirates. The boy shifted awkwardly under your gaze, looking down at his boots.

           “You don’t talk much, do you?” he asked, offering a nervous smile.

           You shook your head, still suspicious. “Why do you follow him?” you asked abruptly, catching him off guard. “Captain Hotchner. Why do you all listen to him?”

           The boy blinked, surprised by your question. He hesitated before answering, his voice quiet. “Captain Hotchner… he’s not like other pirates i've met. He takes care of us. He protects us. A lot of us wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.” He glanced around the cabin, almost as if making sure Hotch wasn’t listening. “He has his reasons for everything. You may not see it now, but the captain… he’s not as bad as you might think.”

           You bit your lip, his words stirring something inside you. Was it loyalty that kept them all in line? Or fear?

           Before you could respond, the boy gave you a small nod and turned to leave. “Just… eat something, alright? You’re gonna need your strength.”

           Once the door clicked shut, you stared at the tray for a long moment, your stomach growling despite the tension that gripped you. You finally relented, picking up the bread and taking a small bite. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to clear your head, giving you some much-needed focus.

           As you ate, your thoughts circled back to the captain. You couldn’t let him win. If the crew saw him as a protector, as someone to be followed, there had to be a way to use that to your advantage. Maybe you could earn their trust too. Maybe you could find a crack in his armor, something that would give you leverage.

           But first, you had to play along. You had to be smart.

           Later, as the ship rocked gently and the sounds of the crew faded into the evening, you laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Captain Hotchner's words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the battle ahead.

           “You’re part of this now.”

           Maybe you were. But that didn’t mean you had to accept it.

           With that thought, you drifted off into an uneasy sleep, knowing that tomorrow, you’d have to face the captain again - and somehow, find a way to turn the tides in your favor.

                            ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The next morning, you woke to the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the small cabin window. The sound of footsteps and muted conversations echoed from above deck, reminding you once again of where you were, it had in fact not just been a nightmare that you were trapped on a pirate ship. The reality of it weighed heavily on your chest, but you swallowed the anxiety, forcing yourself to rise and steady your mind.

           You couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken.

           The door creaked open before you could prepare yourself and Captain Hotchner stepped inside, as if summoned by your thoughts, his presence commanding the room. He didn’t say anything at first, simply letting his eyes sweep over you as if assessing. His dark hair was tousled slightly, the sea breeze having its way - you could only imagine the wind having blown through it as he steered the ship - but he still looked as composed as ever.

           "Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice rich and calm, as though he hadn’t abducted you and was holding you captive onboard his ship.

           You refused to give him the satisfaction of answering him. Instead, you crossed your arms and leveled him with a steady glare, one you hoped conveyed more strength than you felt.

           Captain Hotchner's lips quirked slightly, that infuriating smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Still defiant, I see."

           He stepped closer, but instead of looming over you, he walked past, his fingers brushing along the edge of the table as he observed the mostly empty plate from last night’s meal.

           "You ate," he noted, almost as if pleased. "Good. I need you strong."

           "For what?" you snapped, tired of his vague answers. "What’s your plan? To keep me locked in this cabin forever while you and your crew plunder villages and kill innocent people? Or is there something worse waiting for me? Cause if so, you might as well kill me now."

           He turned then, his expression was unreadable as his eyes bore into yours. "You’ll see soon enough."

           His nonchalance infuriated you. It wasn’t just that he had taken you - it was the way he acted as if you were already part of his world, as if you would eventually bend to him.

           "You’re a monster," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

           To your surprise, Captain Hotchner didn’t seem angered by the accusation. Instead, he tilted his head, watching you closely, his expression softening just slightly.

           "Maybe I am," he said after a pause, his voice was quiet. "But that doesn’t change anything. You belong here now."

           You clenched your fists, your pulse quickening at his words. "I don’t belong to anyone," you shot back, your voice shaking with both rage and defiance.

           Hotch’s eyes darkened, but his expression remained calm. "You’ll change your mind soon enough, just you wait and see."

           With that, he stepped closer, his figure once again towering over you. His presence was suffocating, and yet, there was something in his gaze that drew you in, a strange pull that you hated to acknowledge.

           "I can see the fire in you," the captain murmured, his voice lower now, as if he was telling you a secret, it was almost tender. "It’s what makes you interesting. But if you think you can escape or fight me off, you’ll find yourself sorely mistaken. I'm sure Scully already told you about the sharks."

           Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. He wasn’t threatening you - not in the traditional way and certainly not in the way you’d expect from a pirate. No, this was different. It was as if he truly believed that you would eventually choose to stay, that you’d give in willingly.

           "You’re wrong," you whispered, your voice was barely audible.

           Captain Hotchner's eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, a gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.

           "Perhaps," he murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek lightly before he pulled away. "But time will tell."

           "And I'm always right," He muttered under his breath. And with that, he turned and left the cabin, leaving you alone once more, your heart racing and your mind spinning. What could all of this mean?

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The days passed slowly aboard the ship. The crew seemed to give you space, not daring to question their captain's decision to keep you. But you noticed the way they looked at you when they thought you weren’t paying attention - they were curious, perhaps even wary of you. You were the captain’s captive, after all, and no one dared question the captain.

           Captain Hotchner visited you often in the cabin, sometimes bringing you meals to ensure you ate something, other times simply sitting in the cabin, watching you in silence. He never pushed you, never forced you into anything - not like you'd heard tales of what pirates usually did to their captives - but his presence was a constant reminder of your imprisonment. He was always calm and always composed around you, as if he was waiting for something - for you to break, perhaps.

           But you refused. You wouldn’t let him win.

           One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the cabin, you heard a knock at the door. It wasn’t the captain this time this time. Instead, it was the young boy from a couple of days ago.

           "The captain wants to see you," he said, his voice shaky.

           You stood, your heart pounding. You hadn’t been out of the cabin all day, and the idea of facing Hotch in front of the rest of the crew made your stomach twist with anxiety. But you couldn’t stay hidden forever.

           The boy led you above deck, where the cool sea breeze hit your face, a contrast to the stuffy air in your cabin. The ship was alive with movement - sails being adjusted, ropes being pulled, boards being mopped, and the creaking of the wood beneath your feet. And there, at the helm, stood Captain Hotchner, his hands resting on the wheel as he gazed out at the open sea.

           When he noticed you, he smiled - calm, assured, and maddeningly in control.

           "Come," he called, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves. "There’s something I want you to see."

           Despite your reluctance, you stepped closer, your eyes narrowing as you tried to figure out what he was planning. The captain didn’t speak right away. Instead, he nodded toward the horizon, where a small island was visible in the distance.

           "That’s our destination," he said quietly. "A place where no one will find you."

           Your breath caught in your throat as the full weight of his words settled over you. This wasn’t just about keeping you captive. This was about taking you away, far from anything familiar. Far from escape.

           "You’re mad if you think I'm staying there," you whispered, shaking your head. "I’ll never—"

           "Yes, you will," he interrupted, his voice steady but firm. "Because whether you like it or not, this is your life now. And besides, the elements will take care of you sooner rather than later if you try to escape." He shrugged at the last part.

           You stared at him, your heart pounding as a mixture of fear and anger welled up inside you. You wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to yell. But even as you opened your mouth to argue, you realized something terrifying, no words wanted to come out.

           A part of you didn’t want to leave.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The journey to the island felt endless, the tension between you and the captain hung like a storm cloud. Every day, you were met with the same dark horizon, the endless expanse of ocean offering no solace. But the island grew larger with each passing moment, and with that came a haunting promise of your new reality.

           When you finally arrived, the crew worked swiftly to anchor the ship just offshore, lowering a small rowboat into the water. Captain Hotchner approached you in the cabin, his expression unreadable as he gestured toward the door.

           “It’s time.”

           You swallowed, your pulse quickening as you stood. There was no escaping this. If you didn't move your own legs, he would have someone move them for you. You were far from anything familiar, and the chances of finding help on this isolated island were slimer than you prefered. Still, you couldn't show your fear - not to him, not to his crew.

           The rowboat swayed slightly as you stepped into it, and the captain followed, settling in beside you as a few men from the crew lowered you down into the water. Two of his men rowed in silence, their eyes downcast, avoiding your gaze as if they knew something you didn’t. Captain Hotchner sat across from you, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes watching you carefully. His calm demeanor only heightened your anxiety, as if he had already anticipated your every move.

           The boat glided smoothly toward the shore, rocking softly with the waves, and when it touched the sand, the captain was the first to stand, offering you his hand. You hesitated, the stubborn part of you wanting to refuse, but the logical side winning, not wanting to fall into the water. You took his hand, letting him help you out of the boat.

           As your feet sank into the soft sand, you took in the sight of the island. It wasn’t large - just enough to support a dense forest and a stretch of beach. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was the only noise, apart from the distant calls of seabirds. It was eerily quiet, an isolated paradise... or a prison.

           Captain Hotchner walked ahead, leading you up the beach toward the treeline. "Come," he called over his shoulder, not waiting for you to catch up. You followed reluctantly, the sand giving way to a narrow path that led through the trees.

           Your heart pounded in your chest as you stepped into the shade of the forest, the thick canopy blocking out most of the sunlight. The path wound deeper into the island, and after what felt like an eternity, you finally emerged into a small clearing.

           In the center of the clearing stood a humble cabin, tucked away in the foliage like a hidden secret. It was rustic, with weathered wood and a thatched roof, but it was clear it had been maintained.

           “You’ll stay here,” the captain said, his voice calm as if he were simply giving a tour. “It’s safe, isolated. No one will find you, not even my men.”

           You stared at him, disbelief and anger swirling within you. “You’re serious?!” you spat. “You plan to keep me here like some kind of... animal in a zoo?”

           He met your gaze, his expression steady. “You’re not an animal,” he said quietly, his tone almost soothing. “You’re protected. No one will harm you here.” You couldn't think of anyone who would harm you, but him.

           The absurdity of his words made you laugh bitterly. “Protected? You took me, and now you’re isolating me on a deserted island. How is that protection? If anything I will go insane.”

           Captain Hotchner didn’t flinch at your accusation. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because I won’t let anyone take you from me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You belong to me now.”

           His words sent a chill down your spine, and you took an instinctive step back. The rational part of you screamed that this was insane, that you needed to find a way out, but there was something in his gaze - something dark and possessive - that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t fully understand.

           He watched you for a moment longer before turning toward the cabin. He pushed open the door, revealing a simple interior: a bed, a small table, and a few shelves stocked with supplies and books. It was far from luxurious, but it was clear he had prepared this place specifically for you.

           “I’ll leave you to settle in,” Captain Hotchner said, his voice softer now. “But don’t think about trying to escape. You won’t get far.”

           Before you could respond, he turned and walked back down the path, leaving you standing in the doorway of the cabin alone with your racing thoughts.

           You stepped inside, glancing around the small space, your mind reeling. It was all too much to process. You were on a deserted island, trapped by a man who believed you belonged to him. And yet, despite the fear and anger simmering inside you, there was a small part of you that wondered what would happen if you stayed. If you stopped fighting.

           That thought terrified you.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           Days passed, and you fell into an uneasy routine. Captain Hotchner would visit the cabin daily, bringing supplies, checking in on you, always watching you with that same intense gaze. His presence felt suffocating. He seemed to be waiting for something, waiting for you to stop resisting him.

           And the worst part was, you felt yourself weakening. The isolation, the quiet of the island, and the strange charm Hotch carried as he arrived - it all started to wear on you. You hated him for what he’d done, but there was no denying the magnetic pull he had over you. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke - it was impossible to ignore, and you were starting to feel it too.

           One evening, as the sun began to set, the captain arrived at the cabin once more. This time, however, he didn’t bring supplies. Instead, he sat down at the small table, gesturing for you to join him.

           Reluctantly, you sat across from him, your arms crossed as you eyed him warily.

           “You’re adjusting,” he noted.

           “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you replied, your tone sharper than you intended.

           Captain Hotchner's lips quirked slightly. “True. But I can see it in you - in your eyes, you’re beginning to accept this.”

           Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “I’ll never accept this,” you said quietly, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

           Captain Hotchner leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours. “You will,” he said softly. “And when you do, you’ll realize that this is where you were always meant to be.”

           You stared at him, your pulse quickening as the weight of his words settled over you. There was something terrifying in the way he spoke, as if he truly believed that this was your fate.

                             ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           Days turned into weeks on the island, the crash of waves and the endless whisper of wind through the trees becoming your only companions as Captain Hotchner started visiting less frequently. The small, confined space of the cabin that had once felt like a prison now felt like a strange kind of refuge. The fight inside you, that spark of rebellion, had dulled over time, replaced by a heavy sense of resignation as you'd given into your loneliness. You had started to long for his visits.

           You knew, logically, that this wasn’t right - nothing about this was right. And yet, the more time you spent on the island, the more his words echoed in your mind. “You belong here now.” It was ridiculous, but there was a part of you that started to believe it. You had no way of knowing how long you would remain here, and the idea of constantly fighting him seemed... exhausting. So, bit by bit, you stopped resisting.

           When Hotch visited, you stopped turning your back to him. You no longer flinched when he stood close, and your anger no longer flared when he spoke to you in that infuriatingly calm, slick voice. You even started responding to him, not with defiance, but with quiet conversation, as if the simple exchange of words could anchor you to some semblance of normalcy.

           One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, Captain Hotchner arrived at the cabin. He lingered at the doorway, watching you for a moment, before stepping inside.

           You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands folded in your lap. You had stopped fighting your reality. It didn’t mean you had fully accepted it, but it was easier than constantly resisting.

           He took a few steps closer, his gaze never leaving you. “I think it’s time,” he said softly.

           You blinked, looking up at him. “Time for what?”

           He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “To return to the ship.”

           A strange mix of emotions surged through you - fear, uncertainty, but also... relief. The island had felt like a prison, but in truth, it had also been a place of isolation, you felt lonely. Going back to the ship meant returning to the world, in a way, even if it was under the captain's constant control.

           “I thought you were going to leave me here forever,” you said quietly, unable to hide the wariness in your voice.

           His lips curled into a small smile. “I told you before. You’re not a prisoner. You’re with me, I just needed you to realize.”

           His words should have sent a chill down your spine, but instead, they settled over you like a blanket of inevitability. You stood, smoothing your hands over your garments, and nodded once. “Alright.”

           Captain Hotchner seemed pleased with your response. Without another word, he turned and led the way out of the cabin, down the path toward the beach where his men waited with the small rowboat. You followed behind him, your heart pounding in your chest as the sound of the waves grew louder.

          When you reached the shore, the captain turned to face you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of resistance. But you had none left to offer. You stepped into the rowboat with him, the familiar sway beneath your feet sending a strange sense of déjà vu through your body, although the rocking motion made you feel nauseous after not spending time on the water for so long.

           As the crew rowed you back toward the ship, you couldn’t help but look at Hotch. There was something about him, something dark and powerful, but also compelling. He had taken everything from you - your freedom, your choices - and yet, he made it seem as though he had given you everything, a place, a purpose.

           When the rowboat reached the side of the ship, Hotch climbed up first, offering you his hand as you hesitated on the edge of the boat. You glanced up at him, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. For a brief moment, you thought about refusing, about fighting again. But the fight had long since faded. So, you took his hand.

           The ship felt both familiar and foreign as you stepped aboard. The crew glanced at you, their expressions carefully neutral, but you could sense their curiosity. They had all watched your arrival, your defiance, and now... they saw your surrender. You wondered if they pitied you, or if they admired your resilience for lasting this long. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore.

           Captain Hotchner's hand lingered on your arm as he led you toward the cabin you had first been brought to all those weeks ago. “You’ll stay in here again,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s certainly more comfortable than the island.”

           You didn’t argue. You simply nodded, stepping into the cabin once more. The space hadn’t changed - it was still simple, still confining - but it felt different now. You felt different now.

           As you sat down on the edge of the bed, the captain stood in the doorway, watching you with that same intense gaze. “You’ve made the right choice,” he said softly.

           You met his eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions churn inside you - fear, anger, but also... something else. Something you couldn’t name.

           “I didn’t have a choice,” you whispered, though the words lacked the bitterness they once carried.

           His lips twitched into a smile. “You always had a choice,” he murmured, turning to leave. But before he stepped out, he glanced back at you one last time. “You’ll understand that soon enough.”

           With that, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin once again. This time, however, it felt different. This time, the weight of the situation pressed down on you, but instead of fighting it... you let it settle over you like the setting sun on the horizon.

           Because in your heart, you knew that no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise - you were already his.

                             ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery glow across the deck of the ship. The ocean was calm, the gentle lapping of waves against the hull creating a soothing rhythm that filled the air. You stood at the helm, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and anxiety as Captain Hotchner approached, his silhouette framed by the stars. He had asked you to meet him there as soon as the rest of the crew went to sleep. It was his turn to take the night shift tonight.

           “Tonight, we’re going to learn how to navigate by the stars,” he said, his voice smooth and confident, yet somehow soothing in the stillness of the night.

           “Navigate?” you echoed, looking up at him. The deep blue color of the sea shimmered under the moonlight, and the vast expanse of stars overhead made your head spin - but in a good way.

           He stepped closer, his presence both comforting and commanding. “Yes, it’s essential out here. Come here.”

           You took a hesitant step toward him, drawn by the warmth of his body. Your body stiffened as he wrapped his arm around you - but soon relaxed. He crouched down to your level as he pointed upward, his finger tracing the outline of a constellation. “This is the North Star. It’s your guide,” he explained, his voice low as if he were sharing a secret meant only for you.

           You squinted up at the stars, trying to find the North Star among the vastness. “How do you know which one it is?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of your hesitation.

           “It’s the brightest star in that direction,” he replied, you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Follow me.”

           Captain Hotchner moved with a fluid grace, guiding you as he pointed out more constellations, the big dipper, Cassiopeia, and so on, his finger dancing through the air. You found yourself captivated, not just by the stars but by the way he spoke with passion, his voice steady and filled with knowledge.

           “Each star tells a story,” he continued, gesturing toward a cluster that resembled a ship’s sails. “These stars will help you determine your course.”

           As he spoke, you couldn’t help but admire him - his hair tousled from the slumber he had just awoken from, the way his eyes glinted with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You felt a strange mix of admiration and something deeper, a connection that seemed to spark in the space between you.

           “Now, grab the helm,” he instructed, pulling you from your thoughts.

           With a deep breath, you stepped up to the wheel, placing your hands on the cool wood. Captain Hotchner stood behind you, close enough that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Keep her steady,” he said, his voice low and reassuring.

           You concentrated, focusing on the gentle movements of the waves and the stars above, trying to align everything as he had shown you. The ship swayed softly beneath your hands as the pull from the waves made you steer slightly off course, although you quickly aligned her back up. The sound of the water lapping against the sides created a tranquil atmosphere.

           “Good,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of approval. The praise made you feel good. “Now, look at the compass. That will help you find your direction.”

           As you navigated, you felt his presence envelop you, a heady mix of mentorship and intimacy that left you breathless. His hand brushed against your arm as he leaned over to adjust your grip, and you felt a warmth radiate through you, the boundaries of your situation blurring with every shared moment.

           “Feel the wind,” he instructed, his voice a soft command that pulled your attention back to the task at hand. “It can also tell you which way to go.”

           You turned your head slightly, the scent of the ocean mingling with his musky cologne and faint hint of rum, intoxicating and overwhelming. The ship felt alive beneath you, the moonlit water stretching endlessly before you.

           As you learned to navigate, Captain Hotchner explained the importance of trusting your instincts. “Out here, it’s not just about what you see; it’s about what you feel,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

           “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

           “There’s a rhythm to the sea,” he replied, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. “You have to learn to listen.”

           He guided your hands on the wheel, showing you how to respond to the subtle shifts in the wind and water. As the minutes stretched into hours, and the morning sun started to rise, the connection between you deepened, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, feeling a strange sense of safety despite the uncertainty of how you had gotten there.

           “Now, plot a course for Scully when he wakes up to take over,” he instructed, pointing to the next destination on the map. The sunlight illuminated the parchment, and you felt drawn to it, wanting to understand the paths you would take.

           With his finger, Captain Hotchner traced a line across the map, explaining how to navigate from one point to another. His proximity, the warmth of his body brushing against yours, made it hard to focus on anything other than the way he commanded the space around you.

           “Why do you keep teaching me all this?” you asked suddenly, unable to contain your curiosity.

           He paused, glancing at you with a serious expression. “Because I see potential in you,” he said, his voice earnest. “You’re stronger than you think.”

           You met his gaze, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “And what if I don’t want to be here?”

           His expression softened, but there was an underlying resolve in his eyes. “That we’ll figure it out once we're back at the mainland. You don’t have to stay if you truly don’t want to.”

           His words resonated deep within you, the weight of them heavy with meaning. You realized then that despite everything, despite his earlier words and mysterious ways, he wanted you to find your path, even if it meant leaving him behind.

           As the darkness evaporated completely, you found solace in the rhythm of the waves and the warmth of his presence beside you. The stars that had twinkled overhead now gave room for the clouds, each one a silent witness to your growing connection - a bond forged in the depths of the sea and the mysteries of the night.

           And in that moment, you accepted your fate, not with resignation, but with a tentative hope that perhaps, in navigating these uncharted waters together, you would find a way to reclaim a piece of yourself.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           As the moon began its ascend, the horizon slowly darkening with the first hints of night, casting a soft glow over the ship. The calm waters were a deceptive facade, and you sensed a change in the air. The closer you got to your destination, the more you noticed the captain's demeanor shift.

           He stood at the helm, eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon, a tension palpable in his stance. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing beneath the surface, a storm of emotions that had nothing to do with the weather.

           “Hotch?” you called, stepping closer to him. “Is everything okay?”

           He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Just keep an eye out for land,” he said, his voice clipped. The warmth that had lingered between you during the navigation lesson had vanished, replaced by a cold seriousness that sent a shiver down your spine.

           As you stood beside him, the anticipation of what lay ahead settled heavily in your stomach. It was your first plundering, and the thrill mixed with fear was almost intoxicating. Yet, you could see the turmoil in Captain Hotchner's eyes, a flicker of concern that made you question everything you thought you knew about him.

           “Are you sure you want me there?” you asked hesitantly, biting your lip. “I mean, it’s going to be…”

           “Brutal,” he finished, the word hanging in the air like a heavy fog. He turned fully to face you, the intensity in his gaze both captivating and unnerving. “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

           Your heart sank at his words, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. “I can handle it. I’ve been through tough situations before,” you insisted, trying to muster some semblance of confidence.

           He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t like anything you’ve faced before. It’s one thing to learn navigation; it’s another to watch lives being taken.”

           “I need to know what I’m getting into,” you pressed, stepping closer, your voice low. “You can’t keep me sheltered forever. How do you expect me to make a choice?”

           The captain's eyes softened momentarily, but the tension returned as he glanced back at the horizon. “You think you want to see this, but trust me, once you do, you can’t unsee it. You can never return to the calm life you used to live.” His voice was low, filled with a sincerity that tugged at your heart.

           As the ship glided over the water, you watched the way his shoulders tightened and his hands clenched around the wheel. It was clear he was torn between wanting to protect you and letting you tag along, knowing that you deserved to make your own choices.

           “Isn’t that the life we’ve chosen? To be part of this?” you asked, trying to pierce through the protective wall he had erected around himself. “To experience everything, the good and the bad?”

           He turned to you then, his eyes boring into yours, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling within them. “I can’t just leave you behind, not when you mean something to me. But I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt either.”

           His words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth flush through you, surprising and thrilling all at once. “You don’t have to worry about me,” you said, determination hardening your voice. “I can prove myself.”

           Captain Hotchner regarded you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. But you stay close to me. No matter what happens, you follow my lead and don't stray off course.”

           Relief washed over you, and you felt a surge of determination. “I will,” you promised, knowing that this was your chance to show him that you were more than just a pretty face.

           The outlines of land began to emerge on the horizon. Captain Hotchner's posture shifted, his focus sharpening as he prepared the crew for what lay ahead. You could feel the palpable tension in the air as excitement mixed with apprehension among the crew members.

           “Gather round!” He commanded, his voice ringing out, firm and authoritative. “We’re nearing our target. Keep your wits about you. No matter what happens, remember our plan.”

           You stood at his side, your heart pounding in your chest as you took in the sight of the distant shoreline. The anticipation of the unknown filled you with adrenaline, and you felt your resolve strengthening.

           As the ship approached the shore, you caught glimpses of the settlement - a small harbor bustling with activity, unaware of the storm that was about to descend upon it. The excitement among the crew grew, shouts of encouragement and camaraderie ringing out in the crisp air. Yet, you noticed Captain Hotchner's expression darkening, his jaw set tight as he stared at the land ahead.

           “Captain?” you asked quietly, concern creeping into your voice. “Are you okay?”

           He glanced at you, the weight of his worry evident. “Just remember what I said,” he replied, the edge of urgency creeping back into his tone. “Stick close. Do not get separated from me.”

           With a nod, you swallowed your fear, determination solidifying your resolve. You were ready to face whatever came next, and as the ship anchored near the shore, you felt the thrill of the unknown course through you. Captain Hotchner may have been concerned - concerned enough to give you a dagger without proper training, but you were ready to prove your strength - not just to him, but to yourself.

           As the crew prepared to disembark, Captain Hotchner's gaze locked onto yours, a silent communication passing between you.

           With the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the captain by your side, you stepped toward the unknown.

                           ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The ship’s hull creaked gently against the waves as you and the crew gathered at the edge, readying to disembark. A mix of anticipation and anxiety filled the air, creating a charged atmosphere among the men. Captain Hotchner stood at the forefront, his expression sharp and serious as he glanced back at you, ensuring you were close at hand. The tension hung heavy in the salty breeze.

           “Remember what I said,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “Follow my lead, and stay out of trouble.”

           You nodded, determination surging within you. You had made it this far; there was no turning back now. The sound of swords being unsheathed and the chatter of excitement reverberated through the crew, setting your heart racing.

           As the boat hit the dock, the crew leapt off, landing with a soft thud on the cobblestone. You followed closely behind the captain, who took the lead with an ease that was both reassuring and intimidating. The bustling settlement before you was alive with the sounds of daily life - merchants hawking their goods, fishermen repairing nets, and children playing in the streets. It was unaware of the looming darkness of what was about to unfold.

           “Stay close,” Captain Hotchner repeated, his eyes scanning the scene like a hawk. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his hand twitched near the hilt of his sword, ready for anything.

           As you moved deeper into the settlement, the crew fanned out, each member slipping into the chaos of the marketplace, eyes sharp for potential plunder. Hotch led you to a narrow alleyway, away from prying eyes. “We’ll take them by surprise,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder at you. “You’ll want to stay behind me.”

           Your pulse raced as you nodded, adrenaline flooding your veins. You watched as he signaled to the crew, and the air shifted, becoming thick with anticipation.

           In an instant, a loud crash erupted from the other end of the alley, the sound of swords clashing and shouts echoing off the walls. Your heart raced as Captain Hotchner surged forward, pulling you with him. The scene exploded into chaos; you caught glimpses of the crew engaging with startled townsfolk, swords drawn and commands shouted, the atmosphere charged with urgency.

           “Now!” The captain barked, and without thinking, you followed, your feet moving of their own accord as you rushed into the fray, adrenaline flooding your senses.

           You were surprised by the immediate chaos - people were scrambling, their screams mingling with the sound of clashing steel. Captain Hotchner fought with a precise brutality, each movement calculated and fluid, his strength commanding the attention of everyone around him. You tried to keep up, your heart racing as you glanced around, taking in the frantic scene.

           “Stay behind me!” He shouted again, slicing through an attacker with deft precision, his eyes fierce as they met yours for a brief moment, no reaction to the blood pouring from the wound as he retracted his sword and watched the man fall to the ground.

           You complied, but a part of you ached to contribute more, to prove yourself. You wished you had a sword. You moved to the side, narrowly avoiding a flurry of limbs and chaos. In the distance, you saw a merchant attempting to flee, clutching a leather bag filled with valuables. Instinct - that you didn't know where came from - kicked in, and you made a snap decision.

           With a quick glance at Captain Hotchner, who was engaged in a fierce struggle, you dashed toward the merchant, your heart pounding. You lunged for the bag, grabbing it just as he turned, shock and fear etched across his face.

           “Stop!” he yelled, but your instincts propelled you forward, the thrill of the moment consuming you. You turned to run, adrenaline pushing you faster than you ever thought possible.

           But before you could escape, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you back. You gasped, recognizing Hotch’s voice as he growled, “What are you doing?”

           The world around you seemed to freeze for a heartbeat, your heart racing as you stared into his stormy eyes. “I - I thought I could help,” you stammered, breathless from both fear and exhilaration.

           “Help?” he snapped, shaking his head in frustration. “You need to be careful! You can’t just run off like that! He could've had a revolver.”

           His grip softened slightly, and in that moment, you could see the worry etched across his features. “I didn’t want you getting hurt,” he said, quieter now, urgency still lacing his tone.

           Before you could respond, the sounds of battle erupted around you, the tide of chaos swaying back and forth as the crew pressed forward. Captain Hotchner glanced back at the fray, assessing the situation, his focus sharpening. “Stay close to me,” he commanded again, and you nodded, heart racing as you fell back into step beside him. "This time I mean it!"

           As you moved through the streets, it became clear that the plundering was brutal. Crew members shouted orders and taunts, and the weight of the violence around you pressed down like a heavy fog. You witnessed townsfolk being restrained, their protests muffled, and the fear in their eyes struck a chord deep within you as you watched the crew take a little more than material things.

           Captain Hotchner's gaze flicked back to you frequently, assessing your reaction to the chaos. You could see the conflict in his expression, the internal battle raging beneath the surface. He fought fiercely, but you sensed he was also trying to shield you from the worst of it.

           “Remember, this is survival,” he reminded you, his voice steady but low. “They won’t think twice about defending themselves.”

           As the crew moved forward, your heart sank at the sight of a young boy cowering in the corner, clutching a wooden toy. Something snapped within you, the innocence of the scene starkly juxtaposed against the brutality around it.

           “Hotch, we can’t-” you began, but he shook his head, his expression hardening.

           “It’s too late,” he said, urgency building. “We have to keep moving.”

           You watched helplessly as the crew continued to gather their loot, your heart aching at the destruction of lives and homes. Fires burning and blood pooling. This wasn’t the adventure you had imagined; it was a nightmare, a side of pirate life you hadn’t been prepared for.

           As the battle raged on, you felt the weight of your decisions crushing down on you. You thought you wanted to prove yourself, but now all you wanted was to escape the chaos. You turned back to Hotch, desperation creeping into your voice. “We need to stop this.”

           He glanced at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “We can’t stop now. If we leave without what we came for, they’ll be ready for us next time. We’re pirates; this is how it works.”

           The truth of his words struck hard, and you nodded, heart heavy with the burden of your choices. You stayed by his side, but as the plundering continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the darkness of this life was creeping into your soul.

           With each passing moment, you saw the line between right and wrong blurring, and you realized you were far deeper into this life than you ever expected. As the chaos continued around you, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

                            ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The air on the ship was electric with excitement and chaos as the crew celebrated their successful plundering. Laughter and shouts echoed off the wooden planks, the scent of salt and rum mingling in the air as bottles were uncorked and food was hastily laid out. The harmony among the crew members was palpable, their spirits lifted by the thrill of the day’s chaos and victory.

           You stood at the edge of the deck, the festivity swirling around you like a storm. As you watched the crew dance and drink, a knot of unease settled in your stomach. Despite the cheers and laughter, the images of the plundering lingered in your mind - the fear in the eyes of the townsfolk, the innocence of the boy you’d tried to protect. The celebration felt hollow, a facade to mask the darker reality of piracy.

           “Y/N!” one of the crew called out, waving a half-empty bottle of rum in your direction. “Come join us! You’ve earned it!”

           You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Just as you were about to decline, Captain Hotchner's voice sliced through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Y/N, come to my cabin.”

           Your heart sank as you turned to face him. His expression was serious, an intensity in his eyes that made your stomach flip. The crew’s laughter faded into the background as he stepped closer, his demeanor shifting from the charming pirate you had begun to know to the authoritative captain you had initially encountered.

           “Now!” he commanded, voice low but firm, “we need to talk.”

           Before you could respond, he took your arm and led you away from the raucous celebration, the sounds of the crew fading into a distant hum. You followed him to his cabin, the door creaking ominously as he pushed it open. The space was dimly lit, a flickering lantern casting shadows on the wooden walls, and it felt suddenly suffocating.

           As the door shut behind you, the captain turned to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. “What were you thinking out there?” His voice was calm, but the intensity in his gaze told you he was anything but relaxed.

           “I was trying to help!” you protested, the words spilling out before you could think better of them. “I couldn’t just stand by while that merchant was getting away. I wanted to do something!”

           Captain Hotchner's expression softened for a brief moment, but it quickly hardened again. “Help? You put yourself in danger. Do you have any idea how reckless that was?” His voice rose slightly, frustration seeping through.

           You opened your mouth to argue, but the weight of his words hit you like a cold wave. The truth was, you hadn’t thought it through. The adrenaline of the moment had blinded you to the risks. “I just - I thought I could make a difference,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.

           He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily as he turned away to stare out the small porthole. “This isn’t a game. This life is brutal, and I won’t have you caught in the crossfire. You’re not ready for what we do out there. Maybe you should just stay back on the ship next time?” He raised a brow, waiting for your response

           The disappointment in his voice stung more than you expected. “I can handle myself,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

           He turned back to you, his expression conflicted. “You think so? You think you can just jump in and help without understanding the consequences?”

           A silence fell between you, thick and uncomfortable. You felt the weight of your actions pressing down on you, the fear and chaos of the day crashing over you like a wave. “I’m trying to learn,” you finally said, looking him in the eye, you felt ashamed, only wanting to prove yourself to him. “But I want to be a part of this crew, Hotch. I want to prove myself to you.”

           Captain Hotchner studied you for a long moment. “It’s not just about proving yourself. It’s about survival, both for you and for the crew. If you’re not careful, you could get yourself killed.”

           You felt a spark of defiance. “I can take care of myself. I just want you to trust me!”

           His gaze softened slightly, and for a moment, the pirate captain seemed to fade away, revealing the man you’d begun to connect with. “Trust is earned, not given,” he replied, his voice more gentle now. “And you have to be patient. It takes time to understand this life and the choices we make.”

           You nodded, your heart aching with the weight of his words. “I know that now. I just… I wanted to help you.”

           He stepped closer, his demeanor shifting as he reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I appreciate your spirit. But you need to learn to pick your battles. Next time, trust me to lead. I know what I'm doing.”

           You met his gaze, feeling a rush of emotions swirling between you - fear, admiration, and something deeper. “I will,” you promised, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

           With a sigh, he stepped back, the tension easing slightly. “Good. Now, let’s go rejoin the crew. They’ll be wondering where we’ve gone.”

           As he turned to leave, you felt a flicker of warmth in your chest. Maybe this life wasn’t as bleak as it seemed, not if you had the captain to guide you. You followed him back to the deck, the sounds of celebration filling the air once more, a mix of laughter and music that felt almost comforting now.

           As you stepped back into the chaos, the crew erupted in cheers, raising their bottles in salute as you and Hotch made your way to the makeshift feast. The stress of the scolding faded into the background, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of friendship wash over you as you mingled with the rest of the crew.

           You took your place among the pirates, the day’s events still heavy in your mind but lightened by the shared joy around you. As the rum flowed and stories were exchanged, you caught Captain Hotchner watching you from a distance, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

           You realized that amidst the chaos of piracy, perhaps you had found a place where you could belong, even if the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty. You raised your own mug of rum, joining the crew in their cheers, and for the first time since you’d boarded the ship, you felt a flicker of hope amidst the darkness.

                          ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           Weeks passed since your first plundering, each day blending into the next as you settled into life aboard the ship. Under Captain Hotcher's careful guidance, you began to learn the ropes - both literally and figuratively. Navigating the ship, understanding the intricacies of sailing, and grasping the art of plundering were no longer foreign concepts; they were becoming second nature to you.

           The crew’s initial skepticism had faded and was replaced by grudging respect as they witnessed your transformation. You no longer flinched at the sight of a dagger or the sound of chaos that followed a successful raid. Instead, you embraced the thrill, your heart racing in sync with the beat of the crew’s revelry.

           During plundering missions, you stood shoulder to shoulder with Hotch, no longer a mere bystander but an active participant. You learned to wield a cutlass with a surprising degree of skill, and your instincts sharpened with every encounter. Captain Hotchner would often watch you with a mixture of pride and admiration as you navigated the chaos, striking fear into the hearts of those who crossed your path.

           On one particularly moonlit night, the ship sailed toward a small coastal village rumored to hold a wealth of riches. The anticipation hung in the air like a charged current, electrifying every member of the crew. As the ship anchored just offshore, you gathered with the crew.

           “Tonight, we show them the true meaning of fear,” the captain declared, his voice commanding. The crew cheered in response, and you felt a thrill course through your veins at his words. You were no longer just the captain's captive; you were becoming a pirate in your own right.

           As the rowboats slid through the calm water, the darkness enveloped you, broken only by the glimmering stars above. You sat across from Hotch, the familiar tension between you sparking like static. The rhythmic sound of the oars hitting the water steadied your heartbeat as you prepared yourself for what was to come.

           The village came into view, its thatched roofs and flickering lanterns casting a warm glow that seemed to mock the impending chaos. “Remember,” he whispered, leaning closer so only you could hear, “we strike fast, we strike hard. Don’t hesitate. You kill or be killed.”

           “I won’t,” you replied, determination burning in your chest. You could feel the cutlass at your side, a reminder of how far you’d come from the tiny dagger.

           Once ashore, the crew scattered into the shadows, each member moving with practiced precision. Captain Hotchner led the way, and you followed closely, adrenaline coursing through your veins. As you approached the first house, the faint sound of laughter and music drifted out from within, oblivious to the storm about to be unleashed.

           With a nod from Hotch, you surged forward, bursting through the door with the crew at your back. The revelry inside came to a screeching halt, eyes widening in fear as the sight of armed pirates invaded their celebration.

           “Get what you can! Make it quick!” Captain Hotchner barked, his voice echoing through the room. The crew sprang into action, chaos erupting as they ransacked the place. You moved with purpose, your heart racing, snatching up valuables and shoving them into your bag with surprising efficiency.

           The fear on the villagers' faces no longer haunted you; instead, it fueled a fire within. You could see the respect in the eyes of your crew as you maneuvered through the chaos, your instincts guiding you as you followed the captain's lead.

           As the plundering continued, you found yourself confronting a group of villagers who attempted to fight back. They were desperate, eyes wild with fear and determination. For a fleeting moment, doubt crept into your mind was this what you truly wanted?

           But then you caught sight of Hotch, his fierce presence commanding the room as he skillfully dispatched any who dared to challenge him. The thought of failing him ignited a fierce determination in your heart.

           With a battle cry, you lunged forward, the cutlass slicing through the air as you took down one of the villagers. The rush of adrenaline surged through you - he was your first - a heady mixture of fear and exhilaration. As the fight unfolded, you fought with a newfound ferocity, striking alongside the crew, your name echoing through the streets.

           When the raid came to a close, the crew gathered back at the ship, laden with treasures and stories of glory. You stood among them, panting from the exertion, a wide grin plastered across your face.

           Hotch approached you, his expression a mix of pride and approval. “You handled yourself well tonight,” he said, a glimmer of admiration shining in his eyes.

           “Thanks, Captain,” you replied, your heart swelling at his praise. “I couldn’t have done it without your training.”

           He smirked, the familiar glint of mischief in his gaze. “You’re becoming quite the pirate, I must say. The crew is starting to fear you as much as they do me. Perhaps I should grant you a little more authority around here.”

           You laughed, the sound bubbling up from within. “Maybe we should take over the seas together then.”

           Captain Hotchner's gaze turned serious, and he stepped closer. “You know this life isn’t without its dangers, right? There’s a fine line between fear and respect.”

          ��“I understand,” you replied, the weight of his words settling in your heart. “But I want to be a part of it, Hotch. I want to stand by your side.”

           His expression softened, and for a moment, the pirate façade slipped away, revealing the man you were beginning to care for deeply. “Then stay sharp. You’ve proven yourself tonight, but there’s always more to learn.”

           As the crew celebrated behind you, the warmth of his gaze lingered, igniting a spark of something more. You realized that in this world of chaos and piracy, you had found a place not only among the crew but also in Hotch’s heart.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           As the ship sailed back towards mainland, the air was thick with anticipation. You stood at the bow, the salty breeze whipping through your hair as you watched the shoreline come into view. Each passing day had brought you closer to the crew and, unexpectedly, to Hotch. There was an undeniable chemistry between you, a tension that hung in the air like a heavy fog. You were not planning on returning to your old life, although opportunity finally presented itself.

           You often caught him stealing glances in your direction, his expression a mix of admiration and something deeper - something unspoken - he feared what your choice would be. But you were both reluctant to acknowledge it, caught in the tangled web of your new lives as pirates. Each shared laugh and stolen moment made your heart race, but neither of you dared to voice what simmered beneath the surface.

           As the ship docked in the bustling port town, excitement crackled in the air. Merchants called out to passersby, and children chased each other along the docks, laughter ringing like music. But amidst the joyful chaos, something else caught your eye. You spotted wanted posters plastered on the walls, fluttering slightly in the breeze.

           Your heart sank as you approached one of them, your breath hitching in your throat. The top half featured a striking image of Hotch, the sharp lines of his jaw and the fierce determination in his eyes captured perfectly. The poster detailed his crimes - a notorious pirate captain feared and respected on the seas. But it was the second poster, the one hanging just below it, that sent shockwaves through you.

           The drawing depicted you, an artistic rendering that portrayed your fierce spirit and defiance. The bold letters below read, “WANTED: The Queen of pirates. Infamous for her ruthlessness and trickery. Reward: 500 gold pieces.”

           “Pirate Queen?” you whispered, your heart racing. Disbelief washed over you. Was this really what people thought of you. You wondered what your dad would think if he knew. You were a part of this world now - dangerous and exhilarating - your old life was miles away and there was no point in trying to return to it now.

           Captain Hotchner joined you, his gaze drawn to the posters. He chuckled softly, an amused glint in his eyes. “Looks like you’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

           “Yeah, well… I didn’t ask for it,” you said, a half-smile creeping onto your lips. “I just wanted to me and be by your side.”

           The moment hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken feelings. The captain turned to face you fully, his expression serious. “And you’ve proven yourself more than capable. You’re as feared as I am now, and that’s no small feat.”

           You swallowed hard, the weight of his words making your heart race. “Do you think I’m ready for this life, Captain?”

           “More than ready,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve shown incredible strength and adaptability. But it’s not just about being a pirate; it’s about what comes next.”

           “What do you mean?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

           He hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly. “You have to be careful. With this notoriety comes danger. People will come after you, and not just for the bounty. They’ll want to take what’s yours.” You knew what he was refering to, but didn't mentioned it further.

           “I can handle myself, Hotch,” you insisted, a fire igniting within you. “I’ve learned from the best.”

           His lips curved into a small smile, but his eyes betrayed a hint of concern. “I know you can. But there are still things that can hurt you - more than just blades and guns.”

           As the crowd around you swelled, a wave of excitement and apprehension surged through you. “What if they don’t want me back? What if they only see the bounty?” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

           Captain Hotchner's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his presence radiating warmth. “You’re not just a pirate to me. You’re - ” He paused, searching your eyes as if weighing his words carefully. “You’re more than that. You’ve earned your place among us. You belong here.”

           Before you could respond, a loud cheer erupted from the crew, drawing both your attention and your momentary connection to a close. They were celebrating the plunder, reveling in the spoils of victory. Captain Hotchner rolled his eyes at them, plundering the mainland was not part of the plan.

           As you returned to the ship, your thoughts kept drifting back to Hotch. The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made your heart race. You knew he felt something for you, too. What would happen when the thrill of the chase subsided? What would it mean to fall in love with a pirate captain?

           As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you caught Hotch’s eye across the deck. He raised his glass toward you, a silent acknowledgment that felt heavy with meaning. You raised your own glass in return, a flicker of hope igniting within you.

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           With each passing day, you found your place among the crew, earning their respect and admiration as you carved out your identity as a pirate. Yet, no matter how fierce you became, Hotch’s teasing nickname for you remained: the Pirate Queen.

           “You know,” he’d say, leaning against the railing, a smirk on his lips, “I think you should start addressing me as your royal captain from now on. You can’t just go around being the Pirate Queen without showing proper respect to your pirate king.”

           You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at him. “King? Is that what you think you are? Hardly seems fitting for a man who wears so much leather and jewellery and has a sword by his side wherever he goes.”

           “Oh, I’ll show you just how kingly I can be,” he’d respond, laughter dancing in his deep voice, before effortlessly dodging your playful attempts to hit him.

           The banter had become a comforting routine, one that brought you closer to him even as it reminded you of the reality of your situation. But as the days turned into weeks, the lighthearted teasing took on a new depth. You began to wonder if the title of “Pirate Queen” might hold more weight than just a playful jab.

           One night, as the crew settled around a fire on the beach after a successful raid, you watched the captain from across the flames. He was animatedly recounting tales of his past exploits - most of them before any of the men in his current crew knew him - his charisma drawing everyone in. Your heart swelled with affection as you admired him - the way he commanded attention, the strength he exuded, and the genuine care he showed for his crew.

           It was then that you caught his eye. His gaze held yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and in that moment, the atmosphere shifted. The laughter around you faded into a dull hum, and the crackling fire was the only sound that echoed in the silence between you.           

           “Hey, Pirate Queen,” he called out, breaking the spell, his tone teasing but laced with sincerity. “You’re not going to let me do all the talking, are you? A good queen needs to share her wisdom, after all.”

           You stood, brushing sand off your clothes as you moved closer to the fire. “Well, my wisdom is to never trust a captain who thinks he’s a king.”

           The captain chuckled, a warm, rich sound that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe you should consider trusting him a little more, then.”

           The banter continued, but the playful tone shifted slightly, and you could sense a change in the air. A few days later, as you stood at the helm, navigating the ship under the stars, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Hotch joined you, his presence steadying, and for a moment, you simply enjoyed the quiet of the night.

           “I know I joke about you being the Pirate Queen,” he began, leaning against the railing beside you, the moonlight reflecting off the water and illuminating his sharp features. “But it’s not just a title to me.”

           Your heart raced at his seriousness, and you turned to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”

           He hesitated, and the weight of his words hung in the air. “You’ve become more than just a crewmate. You’ve proven yourself time and time again, and you’ve earned the respect of everyone on this ship. But you’ve also shown me a side of you that’s fierce, courageous, and unapologetically yourself.”

           You felt your cheeks heat, and you looked away, overwhelmed. “Hotch…”

           “I’m serious,” he continued, his tone earnest. “You’re more than just a pirate. You’re my partner, and I want you to be my Pirate Queen - officially. I’m not asking for a title, but for you to stand by my side, not just as a member of the crew, but as someone I care about.”

           Your breath caught in your throat, surprise mingling with joy. “You really mean that?”

           He stepped closer, the space between you charged with unspoken feelings. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. You’re not just another pirate to me, and I don’t want you to ever feel that way.”

           “I’ve never felt like just another pirate,” you admitted, your heart racing as his words settled over you. “But being your Pirate Queen? That’s a lot to take in.”

           “Take your time,” he said softly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

           As the ship rocked gently beneath you, you felt the weight of the world slip away. You were no longer just a kidnapped girl - no longer just a pirate seeking adventure. You were becoming something more, something powerful, and the man beside you made you feel like you could conquer anything.

           Hotch’s hand brushed against yours, a tentative gesture filled with promise.

           “Then I guess I’ll have to live up to that title,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Just remember, I won’t be an easy queen to rule.”

           Captain Hotchner chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

                              ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

           The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the ship as the crew bustled about in excited anticipation. After weeks of plundering and celebrating, the time had finally come to solidify your bond with Captain Hotchner in a way that was both thrilling and unconventional - a pirate wedding. The ship had never seen such a spectacle, and the crew was eager to make it memorable.

           Brightly colored flags fluttered from the mast, and makeshift decorations adorned the deck. Lanterns were hung with care, and the air was filled with the scent of roasted meats and fresh bread, mingling with the salty breeze. The crew had spent the morning preparing, and the excitement was palpable as they exchanged stories and laughter of Captain Hotchner and the Pirate Queen, anticipating the upcoming ceremony.

           As you stood at the helm, taking in the scene, a flutter of nerves danced in your stomach. It felt surreal to be preparing for a wedding on the open sea, surrounded by pirates. But more than that, it was the thought of becoming Captain Hotchner's wife - of finally acknowledging the love that had blossomed amidst the chaos and adventure - that set your heart racing.

           “Are you ready, my Pirate Queen?” Hotch’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him standing behind you, clad in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers, his signature leather jacket hanging open to reveal a glimpse of his toned physique. He looked dashing, a sharp difference to the rugged lifestyle of a pirate, yet he still exuded that dangerous charm that had drawn you to him in the first place.

           You smiled, trying to contain the flurry of emotions swirling inside you. “I am, but I can’t help feeling a bit nervous.”

           “Don’t be,” he said, stepping closer. “We’re surrounded by our crew, and they wouldn’t want anything more than to see us happy. Plus, if things go awry, we can always plunder the wedding gifts and elope somewhere.” He winked.

           You chuckled, grateful for his ability to lighten the mood. “You always know how to make me laugh, Captain.”

           As the hour drew near, the crew gathered on deck, their faces lit with excitement. A makeshift altar had been constructed from driftwood and adorned with flowers collected from distant shores. Scully, stood at the front, a grin splitting his face as he prepared to officiate the ceremony.

           “Gather ‘round, ye scallywags!” Scully called, his voice booming over the sounds of the waves. “Today, we celebrate the union of Captain Hotchner and his Pirate Queen! It be a rare occasion for a pirate to tie the knot, so let’s make it a day to remember!”

           The crew erupted into cheers and laughter, and you took a deep breath, glancing at Hotch. His expression was serious, but there was a glimmer of joy in his eyes.

           “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, through storms and calm seas, to share in all plunders and treasures?” Scully asked, his tone both lighthearted and sincere.

           “I do,” Hotch said, his voice steady and resolute, and you felt your heart swell with affection.

           “And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to face the fiercest foes together and cherish the spoils of life?” Scully now turned to you, and the crew leaned in, eager to hear your response.

           “I do,” you replied, your voice ringing clear as you gazed into Captain Hotchner's eyes.

           As Scully continued with the ceremony, you exchanged vows that were filled with promises of loyalty and adventure. You spoke of standing together through every tempest and sharing both the spoils of victory and the burdens of defeat.

           When it came time to exchange rings, Hotch reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple, weathered band. It wasn’t the traditional diamond, but it was perfect - crafted from the same metal as the ship itself, signifying your bond with the sea and each other.

           With a gentle touch, he slid the ring onto your finger, his eyes never leaving yours. “With this ring, I promise to cherish you, to protect you, and to always navigate the stormy seas together.”

           You smiled through misty eyes as you placed a matching band on his finger. “With this ring, I promise to stand by you, to share in your adventures, and to always be your Pirate Queen.” You winked at him as you mentioned the nickname

           “By the power vested in me by the seas and the crew of this ship, I now pronounce you Captain and Captain Pirate Queen! Ye may kiss your bride!”

           The crew erupted into cheers and whistles as Captain Hotchner stepped forward, his hands cradling your face. The kiss was soft but filled with force and passion as he pressed his lips to yours, sealing your vows in front of your motley crew.

           When you finally pulled away, laughter and applause surrounded you. You were married - partners in crime, in life, and now, officially in love.

           As the celebration kicked into high gear, with songs sung and rum shared, you felt a sense of belonging envelop you like the warm sun setting on the horizon. You were not just a pirate; you were Captain Hotchner’s Pirate Queen, and together, you were ready to face whatever adventures the sea would throw your way.

           As the night wore on and the stars twinkled overhead, you danced together on the deck, the laughter of your crew echoing around you. With Hotch holding you close, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of plundering and love - together, forever bound by the sea.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Commission for the AMAZINGLY patient @i-likebread . Thank you so much for such a fun idea and again, for your patience during my summer writing dry spell. ^_^

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader, Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: At the end of the day, curses were trophic beings. Sukuna? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed. Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. The prey.

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

CW: Dub-Con, Non-Con, Rape by Deception, Cuckholding, Rough Sex, Virginity Loss, Painful Virginity Loss, Manipulation, mentions of Ero-Guro

If you're interested in getting your own Commission done, please refer to my Commission Sheet and shoot me a DM or e-mail! ^_^

Cross-Posted on AO3.

Everyone had told Yuji Itadori that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea. After all, just dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer at all came with its fair share of risks. Dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer while sharing a body with the King of Curses? It should’ve rendered him completely celibate. But to go beyond that, to not only date, but to date a normal, powerless girl with absolutely no knowledge of the existence of Jujutsu society and curses?

Now that was downright stupid.

Those were Gojo’s words too! Satoru Gojo’s — the stupid idea savant! That had certainly gotten Yuji to second guess things. When he left to meet her for their first official date, he’d gone there with all the intentions of breaking things off. But then…

Well, there wasn’t any big revelation. She’d just been her. And he just couldn’t let her go. There were very few moments in his life these days that were able to be just sweet and simple. So any he could have, he knew that he had to cling to, and cling to tight. And moments spent with her? They made him feel like life would never be complicated again.

So six months later, here they were at the matsuri of a temple near her school. And boy, watching her knelt over the shateki stall, silly little tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated so deeply on the balloon she was aiming at, could he not regret it any less. Especially not when she looked so damn cute in that yukata.

POP!

 “I got it!” she jumped back from the carnival game with a squeal, accidentally knocking Yuji in the chest with the pellet gun.

“Oomf—!”

She gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” and rushed forward to check his chest, almost hitting him in the face this time, “Are you hurt?!”

He was able to anticipate it this time though, catching the muzzle of the rifle in his palm with a laugh, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just put this down, alright?”

She relinquished it immediately, bringing her hands to her face to try and cover her blush as she nodded frantically. The moment had finally caught up to her, the fact that she’d almost taken him out twice with the toy rifle and got completely in his face, touching his chest. And the cutest embarrassment came along with it. 

That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was shy and soft-spoken, but that didn’t stop her from ever living or hiding her true feelings when push came to shove. Especially when they involved other people. She often got ahead of herself, feet moving before her brain, throwing manners out the window if it meant helping somebody in need, blurting out the silliest little nonsensicals to try to ease an awkward silence. But never failing to revert back to that shyness and feel embarrassed about it in a way that always brought a smile to his face.

“Your prize, Miss.”

They both turned back to the game-tender, and Yuji instantly froze when he saw the prize being handed to her.

A little yarn doll, just big enough to be a keychain, and it— holy shit, it looked like—

“Aww, look at him Yuji!” she beamed, holding the doll up next to his face, “It looks just like you!”

He could feel his heart freeze with dread, his stomach twisting.

“W-What are you talking about?! No it doesn’t! It’s got tattoos!”

“Yeah. And four arms,” she rolled her eyes, “But look! It’s got your hair and eyes and that mischievous little smirk,” she wiggled it closer to his cheek, “That’s all troublemaker. All Yuji Itadori.” 

He swatted the little doll away from his face, growing more and more prickly the longer she held it so close to him, “Is not!”

She giggled, taking his whining as embarrassment over being teased rather than anything serious,and pulled the doll back to clutch into her own palms lovingly.

“And it’s cute…” she blushed a little as she whispered, “...just like you.”

Yuji softened at the sight. 

He needed to take it easy. It’s not like she could know the history there, the thing it actually looked like — he’d made absolute sure that she hadn’t, after all.

But still, the question remained:

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?” he asked, “A mascot or something?”

He had to know, it was just uncanny how much it looked like Sukuna. And this temple didn’t have any ties to the Jujutsu world that he knew of. Not that he knew a lot. But he hadn’t seen any sorcerers or cursed energy residuals in the area. If anything, it was weird how few curses — even flyheads — were in this area, considering how old the temple was.

“I guess it’s the guardian spirit of this temple,” she answered.

Yuji’s eyes widened. No. No, there was no freaking way.

“This thing?” he pressed in disbelief, “But he— I mean it looks more like a demon than a guardian spirit.”

“That’s kind of the interesting thing!” she explained excitedly, “My homeroom teacher was telling us about it last week. I think the story goes, that in a war between spirits and humans, the peasants this temple served were constantly caught in the crossfire. That is, until a dedicated, benevolent demon came along and vowed to protect the temple even while the rest of the world burnt around it.”

She presented the doll to him, “This little guy is that demon.”

It was all Yuji could do to not roll his eyes at her. Okay. Now he knew it was just a coincidence. Because sure. Benevolent. That’s what Sukuna was. 

What a bunch of crap.

Oi. Sukuna suddenly gruffed in his head. I’m plenty fucking benevolent. 

Yuji went rigid. Sukuna didn’t talk to him often. And honestly, he preferred it that way. He could nap and plot and flit away the time however he did in his own soul, while Yuji enjoyed the life surrounding his. Rarely did he actually tune in and observe Yuji’s life unless there was a battle or an… opportunity at hand.

So the fact that he seemed to be paying attention now was more than a bit worrying. 

What, you gonna tell me that the story is true or something? Yuji snapped right back at his squatter bodymate. That you actually protected a temple?

Could be.

Yuji’s breath hitched.

O-Oh yeah? he demanded, trying to not reveal his wavering confidence. And what was the catch? There’s no way you were some guardian out of the goodness of your heart.

He could practically hear Sukuna smirk inside his head and it unnerved him. Sukuna was privy to all kinds of information about curses and Jujutsu that Yuji learned at school, a lot of which even involved the King of Curses himself. Yet he hardly had anything to comment on then. So why was he so damn talkative about this story?

I protected the shrine… Never said shit about the people in it. And then that horrible, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s echoed in his head.

“Shut up!”

“Huh?”

Yuji snapped back to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Shit. He said that outloud, didn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up— no way they’ve got fluffy ice!” he tried to save, pointing past her to a nearby stall, “We gotta get some!”

She looked behind her, following his finger, and then laughed, relieved that it was something as simple as that rather than something she might have said, “I swear, all you ever think about is food, Yuji.”

“That’s not true… I think about you a lot.”

…is what Yuji would’ve said if he were smoother, more confident, and convinced that a line like that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But of course, he wasn’t any of those things. So he just rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh and nodded when she suggested they go get in line for some.

He wanted to just enjoy the night, to forget about curses and Jujutsu and most of all Sukuna — he practically dared the curse to make another fucking remark, to get all of his unwelcome commentary out now while he could. But the inside of his head had gone, thankfully, radio silent. So he made peace with the fact that Sukuna had gotten bored with all of this and had gone back into his own soul to sleep.

But no. Sukuna was not gone, nor bored. Far from it.

He was hungry.

Sukuna watched Yuji’s little girlfriend through his host’s eyes.

He’d excused himself to go use the restroom soon after they’d gotten their fluffy ice to split, and now he’d just stopped to watch her, sitting on a bench near the edge of the temple, the mouth of the forest, and enjoying her frozen treat with childish glee. The lovestruck fool was living in the moment, watching her with a heart full of warmth and just wanting to take it all in.

For Sukuna however, his stare was full of a hunger growing more and more ravenous with every second.

Of course she looked delicious at all times.  In her school uniform (girl’s uniforms were one of the few innovations of this era he could fully get behind), in her gym clothes the times she and Yuji went jogging together. Even that little floral sundress number she’d worn on their last date had really gotten his motor going. She was just a gorgeous little thing, and exactly his type.

Sickeningly sweet and salaciously stupid.

 But there was something about her right now, dolled up in a snow white yukata, walking under the warm glow of the traditional lanterns, down the path of a temple he once called home — she looked like she could have existed just like this, a thousand years ago. That she could’ve encountered him when he was at the height of his power, looking just like this.

It took everything in him not to utter “Extension” and tear her to pieces in front of every pair of prying eyes right here on this stone path. 

But no. He had to control himself.

He had to plan his moves carefully, he couldn’t just cause havoc willy-nilly, not without raising an unignorable alarm for the Jujutsu Sorcerers to put Yuji Itadori and himself down like Old Yeller. No, now was not the time to rape and pillage and have his fun.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

Somehow, there was something even worse about not being able to have his way in this form then it had been when his soul was fractured for a thousand years. At least before he’d manifested, he was held back by the fact that it was impossible to do anything else — he literally couldn’t have physically let loose even if he wanted to. He was essentially stuck in purgatory.

But now, when he had the full ability to ravage but had to keep himself in check, with only himself and his self-preservation to answer to? God, it practically fucking burned. It wasn’t right. If he didn’t get some kind of outlet soon, he was going to go crazy. 

It was like he was a dog, kept chained and locked up within the cage of his own skin. But that’s not what he was. He wasn’t a fucking housepet. He was a hunter, a predator.

And a damned good one at that.

There was a huge difference between other Curses and Sukuna. The sorcerers had decided to define this difference by grades. But Sukuna believed that the real explanation was much less academic, much more simple.

After all, just because a curse was “Special Grade” didn’t mean that it was worth a damn. It could have all the cursed energy in the world, but if it didn’t know how to properly hunt? It’d be lucky to last a century. 

They were trophic beings at the end of the day.

Low-level Curses, like flyheads? They were, at best, Primary Consumers. If he were being blunt, most of them were Producers, barely above algae. They tended to draw in more Jujutsu Sorcerers than they were worth. Sitting fucking ducks.

That waste of space from the Juvenile Detention Center? A Secondary Consumer. He could pick off the herbivores that were humans. Injured zebras falling behind the herd like his host and the little girl with the hammer.

And the little patchwork punk? The one that dared to put his pathetic mitts on his soul twice? Sukuna would be generous and call him a Tertiary Consumer. He sure did give that Seven to Three Sorcerer and his host a run for their money.

But Sukuna, himself? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed.

Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. 

The prey.

…

Okay, so maybe she was some low-hanging fruit, but it’s not like he could be too choosy. And boy was she ripe for the picking.

Besides, a top of the food chain hunter such as himself knew how to make some fun, a chase out of anything. 

Yes, little Yuji Itadori should’ve listened to his teachers. Dating a non-sorcerer, bringing such a tempting piece of meat into his eyeline and waving it around so proudly was a very bad idea.

And Sukuna lived for bad ideas.

“Extension.”

She perked up as Yuji re-approached, “Hey—!” then paused, head cocking as she noticed something… different about him.

“What’s with the…?” she gestured over her face, indicating the black marks now running across his skin.

“They were doing some face-painting at one of the booths,” he answered simply, lowly, “Looks good, right?”

She flushed a bit at the timber of his voice, eyes dropping to the cup of fluffy ice in her hands. Even imitating Itadori, there was a huskiness, a darkness in Sukuna’s voice that couldn’t be masked. And it sent shivers straight up his prey’s lovely spine.

“Y-Yeah… Looks really good.”

He smirked. Trap set.

“Really good, huh?” he purred, sitting on the bench not only next to her, but with his legs pressing hard against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, giggling as he slid his arm behind her shoulders on the bench, and giddy embarrassment set her body afloat. She liked this, liked it a lot. She always wanted Yuji to sweet-talk and touch her like this, more than she really should honestly. But she was way too embarrassed to ever admit that herself. So this extra flirty mood he seemed to be in at the moment was sending her straight to Cloud 9.

“...Uh— Uh-huh. R-Really good.”

She hazarded a look at his face again, the intensity, the uninhibited desire burning like coal in those lazy-lidded eyes sending an all new feeling of excitement through her body. One she’d been denying for a while.

With a squeak, she looked back forward, jutting the cup of fluffy ice over in his general direction, “D-Do you want some more?!”

He barely paid the measly little treat any mind, far more invested in the delicacy so pretty and wrapped up in an obi for him. 

“Yeah, why not.”

She turned towards him, eyes focussing on his tight chest rather than his sinful eyes, so that she could pick up the spoon and feed him. But before she could even touch the utensil, he reached past it, towards her, and caught a little drip of sweet syrup at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. 

Her breath hitched, loud and embarrassingly. But this only seemed to spur him on. He brushed it slowly along the length of her lower lip, pressing it in ever so slightly when he got to the center, kissing the pad of his thumb to her teeth. He could feel everything about her through this, the way her throat bobbed anxiously, the shuttering breath against his skin, the way her tongue sank forward instinctually to meet him. 

She couldn’t help it, the hypnotic lull that it pulled her into. Her eyes started to shutter closed, but in doing so she noticed something.

His nails.

Sukuna clocked this almost simultaneously, whipping his hand back before she completely lost her stupor and bringing the thumb to his own lips, nails hidden from sight. He made a show of licking the residuals of sweetness off of it, eyes boring straight into hers.

“Tastes even better this way,” he purred.

She flushed and turned away quickly and completely, her back to him, beyond embarrassed, “Y-Yuji—!”

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he husked, leaning in from above her, pressing impossibly closer into her back, “What’s so embarrassing about loving the way you taste?”

Sukuna could feel her cheeks heat up as he slotted his nose into her shoulder, “In fact…”

He pressed his mouth, motionless, into the nape of her neck. He breathed into it, doing everything in his power to get a whisper of a taste of that skin, without devouring her whole.

“I’d love to taste more.”

He ran his hands down her arms, nails catching on every goosebump. They were going slow, teasing, but they weren’t stopping. No, they were not stopping their descent. Not until they got to—

“Y-Yuji,” she gasped out an embarrassed laugh as his hands slipped down to cover her own over the cup, sticky and cold from the fluffy ice dripping forgotten over them, “Come on, there are people around…”

“And?” Sukuna’s fingers weaved with her own squeezing tight, his hips slanting flush against her ass, “If there weren’t people around?”

She tilted her head back, startled by how close his lips were to hers when she did so. Startled, but not scared off. No. Intoxicated. Caught in the center of the spider’s web.

Trapped. Right where he wanted her.

Sukuna’s smirk widened and he caught her lips, all pretense gone. He was going in for the kill.

There was a reason why she was easy prey, and it wasn’t just because she was meek and malleable, easy for Sukuna to overwhelm even without powers.

It was because she wanted this from Yuji, had wanted it for a while, actually. If he didn’t know from all the needing looks and batting lashes she’d sent his way over the last six months — a virgin whore if he’d ever seen one —  it was more than obvious now. The way she grinded against him, gasped excitedly as he shoved her against a tree, back arching as he turned the top of her yukata into a belt, exposing her bare chest to his rough, relentless palms.

He was brought back to the other fucks he’d had under this very tree, when he’d been able to dig his claws into the flesh of shrine maidens until he felt bone. Or that village girl whose spine he’d snapped in half as he came.

This wasn’t nearly as physically exhilarating as those times, but there was something oddly even more exciting about it on a sentimental level. Of course, it was his first fuck in over a millennia, and a virgin at that (his fucking favorite), but she was Yuji’s too. 

Yuji’s girlfriend, Yuji’s love, Yuji’s prize to be won — and he’d stolen her right under the brat’s nose. The only thing that would make it better would be if Yuji could actually see it right now.

He could let that go for now though, especially considering how pliant and eager she was, the way she held back her yelps and locked down any complaints as they slipped down to the cold, crackly ground, her bare back grinding hard into the bark. He knew that it hurt her, he could smell the blood and feel the way her breath hitched in his mouth, and yet miraculously, she didn’t say a word. She wanted this to happen, she wanted to make him happy. And she was too shy to voice anything that might result in otherwise.

“You ready?” he purred, already shoving his pants down to his knees and giving himself a few preparatory pumps, regardless of her answer.

She gulped, and nodded hurriedly.

As soon as he moved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance exploratorily, Sukuna knew she was lying. Her body was clearly not quite there. She was plenty wet, sure, but she was still tense from the nerves, and shallow from the lack of prep. 

That was fine though. Actually, it was great. That added ring of resistance? That’s what made virgins and victims the absolute perfect prey, that’s what made them intoxicating.

He couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips forward, fucking her fully.

She cried out with a volume that was clearly not all from joy. She was hurt. And he almost came on the spot at the sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to keep in character. He didn’t care either way.

“Mm—! Mm-hmm!” she nodded frantically, tears clear in her eyes and hesitant to open her mouth, lest she reveal the actual pain she was in.

Oh, a little tough girl, huh? He could fucking fall in love.

Sukuna kept a serious face, but inside he was splitting in two, smiling.

“You sure? Do you want me to stop?” he insisted. It’s not like he would, even if she wanted to. But the idea of her powering through the pain, begging him to keep going even as he broke her? It was just too good to pass up.

“Y-Yes,” she yelped out in such a sweet, strained voice, “P-Please, keep going Yuji!”

He reached forward, running a hand through her hair, that once perfect little updo now frazzled and ruined with leaves and dirt, “I’ll be gentle, okay?”

She sniffled and put on a brave, quivering smile, nodding. He dragged out of her to the tip, slowly, expertly, pulling from her the first little gasp of pleasure.

Then he bottomed out inside her.

She cried out loudly, nails clinging into his back with vicelock strength as he fucked her, truly fucked her. She tried to make those cries sound pleasured, like moans. But she couldn’t hide the screams they truly were. She pulled him closer so that she could try and muffle them into his shoulder. 

But that wouldn’t do. No, that would not fucking do.

The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back harshly so that she had nowhere to direct her noise but into the night sky as he pounded into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep them at bay.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” he groaned, genuinely, “What about you, baby? Do you feel good?”

She tried to just get away with nodding and whining.

“Tell me baby,” he pressed, “Tell me it feels good.”

“I-It… It feels good!” she finally cried out, desperate for him to stop, “Y-Yuji, it feels so good!”

He pressed his lips into her cheek, almost cumming on the spot as the streams of tears down her skin touched his tongue.

“I love you so much,” he growled shamelessly.

She smiled a face-splitting smile, eyes wide and puffy, and body completely open and raw, as she tried to love away the pain.

“M-Me too!” she almost gagged, “I love you too!!”

In this life, the previous, or even the next, Sukuna was sure he’d never cum as hard as he did when he saw that face. 

Yuji stared down at her in absolute horror. What had he done? No, what had he done?!

His girlfriend, that pure, perfect girl, the one true light of his life, was laid out beneath him, a complete mess. Covered in dirt, hickeys, and a sheen of her own sweat and tears. 

Raped.

Her bare chest rose and fell heavily (he could be thankful for that at least), and her cheek rested against the twisting roots of the tree they were under as she tried to catch her breath.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her eyes blinked open as she felt a splash against her flesh, pulling her from her post-sex daze. She turned to look up at Yuji, instantly shocked to see him hunched over her and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yuji?” she gasped, “Yuji what’s wrong?”

“I… I-I just—” he choked, trying desperately not to throw up. His fingers ran shakily across the divots in her skin, the scratches and bitemarks, “Are you o-okay?”

She followed his stroking hands to her marred shoulders and whipped back to him with a gasp.

“Ohhh, sweetie no— don’t worry about those! I’m fine!”

“A-Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Of course!” she pulled him down into a tight embrace, “I loved it, Yuji.”

Those words stabbed him harder and hotter than anything else she could’ve said. Made it all so much worse.

“I absolutely loved it.”

Like what you read? Consider getting your own Commission! ^_^

[astarionfixation]

Am I Fu**ing Insane!?! MASTERPOST

Chapter 1: *Would it really matter if it was a bite or a kiss?* R: Mature

Chapter 2: +As if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over+ R: Mature

Chapter 3: *is she fu**ing…?!?!?* R: Very Explicit

Chapter 4: *F*ck Eternity if Immortality Looks Like Me* R: Explicit CW Blood, Gore

Chapter 5: *Who said it's no fun to play with your food?* R: Explicit CW Vague Mention of Sex Work / Trafficking

Chapter 6: "It won’t hurt but a moment, darling" R: Explicit CW PTSD, Disassociation, Panic Attacks, Blood

Chapter 7: *I have all the time in the world, darling* R: Explicit CW Vague Mention of past Trauma

Chapter 8: "Show me, and I’ll follow you" R: Mature CW: mentions of parental abuse, childhood abuse, forced prostitution, implied rape

Chapter 9: “Would you like my tongue first, or my fingers, darling?” R: EXPLICIT for Sex, Fingering, Cunnilingus CW: Vague mentions of past sexual abuse, PTSD

Chapter 10: *There's no need to hold back anymore* R: EXPLICIT for Sex, Fellatio, PIV CW: vague mentions of past sexual trauma, PTSD flashbacks

Chapter 11: +I am not a glass doll+ R:EXPLICIT ROUGH SEX (intercourse PIV)

Chapter 12: *That'll teach me not to get all talkative…* R: Mature CW for mentions of Abuse and Past Trauma, possibly body dysmorphia if you squint.

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

Status: Ongoing

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/137677126

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

Teaser:

Astarion swallows again, involuntarily, his lips slightly parted mimicking hers and his mouth now watering the closer he gets to her. As the tip of his nose brushes lightly against her lobe a deep moan escapes her lips, carrying his name again to his ears.

“Astarion”

Her deceptively warm fingers have somewhat found a way to sneak up on him as they now tickle the back of his neck, almost as if she was inviting his mouth down to her and *Would it really matter if it was a bite or a kiss?*

[ravensvirginity]

(CW: canon typical discussions of sexual assault)

Really niche fandom pet peeve but I hate when I see something that acts like the only thing that was wrong with what happened between Trigon and Arella was rape by deception. That did happen, and that on its own would be very bad (I'm absolutely in no way trying to say that that would be okay or anything but rape), but idk where the perception that he stopped assaulting her once he revealed his demon form comes from because that's very much not what happened.

This is Arella's account of what happened to her in her own words, and it seems pretty clear that Trigon kept her longer after she saw his true form. It's not hard to fill in the gaps.

This isn't even a misconception that can be blamed on non comic media. Obviously none of this was ever discussed in either of the CN cartoons, but it was in the DCAMU, and if anything it has more explicit confirmation than the NTT panels.

(The actual scene with the reveal is about 53 seconds in)

I'd guess where the misconception comes from is future retellings of Raven's origin that were condensed to be only a few panels. It doesn't matter all that much at the end of the day, but it just bothers me a little because it's not what happened.

I think it's also a little out of character for Trigon; as the sum of all of Azarath's evil, he's almost nothing but violence. I think that act being so violent is what made Arella find so much solace in Azar's teachings, and Raven hearing this story from her mother as her first exposure to anything related to sexuality made her internalize that her sexual desire is something dangerous and violent that she needs to keep tightly under control. The intended story fits the overall themes with Trigon and Arella better than the misrepresented version.

Arella as a character is so often misrepresented. DC doesn't seem very interested in that part of Raven's backstory at the moment, but I think the right writer could write a great story with her with a more modern tone if given the chance.

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟵

CW: Mentions of rape

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback | 4:4 answer

Gilbert: "Now, again... If you have something to say, I'll listen to you, Little Bunny?"

Before my eyes is His Majesty the Emperor, who rules the great nation of Obsidian—

A commander-in-chief who possesses the power to overwhelm other countries with just one voice.

(… However, it's just a title with a big name; the one inside is Lord Gilbert.)

Looking up at the throne, there is no need to be too afraid.

Emma: "Then, if I may be so bold as to presume..."

Emma: "Why does Your Majesty the Emperor push for the invasion of other countries?"

It was the first thing I wanted to ask the "Emperor," not Lord Gilbert.

Obsidian has always plotted to expand its territory as a matter of policy.

I don't understand the intention of wanting to continue the invasion to the point of trampling on other countries' cultures, ideologies, and lives.

Gilbert: "The ostensible reason is to protect our own people. Obsidian has a lot of barren land compared to how vast the land is."

Gilbert: "We always had the problem of food shortages, and exploitation was necessary to keep the people alive."

Emma: "… What's the purpose behind this?"

Gilbert: "I hate dirty things."

Gilbert: "I hate deception, corruption, bribery, all of it. But the way the continent is structured now, they occur frequently."

Gilbert: "It's not just Obsidian. Wasn't there a trace of corruption in Rhodolite too?"

Emma: "Do you mean the orphanage?"

Gilbert: "Yes, there was some of that, but what about the larger corruption—the debauchery of His Majesty the King?"

(Debauchery... meaning being drowned in women, I guess that fits.)

Gilbert: "He used his power to heal the wounds of a broken heart, and he laid his hands on many women."

Gilbert: "… Do you know the story of Luke's mother?"

Emma: "No…"

Gilbert: "His mother was a mere maid in the service of the court."

Gilbert: "But the king forced himself on her because she looked like the woman he loved."

(…!)

Gilbert: "She left the court heartbroken and secretly gave birth to Luke."

Gilbert: "Do you think the king was punished for this? Yes, of course, he was not punished."

Gilbert: "Because he is the supreme authority in Rhodolite…"

Gilbert: "And because he had the right to do as he pleased with those below him."

(If what you just said is true... I can't defend him even though he is the king of my country.)

(No matter how wise a king he was, it is unforgivable.)

Gilbert: "Do you think that's unusual?"

Emma: "… At least, it's not something that happens very often."

Gilbert: "That's what it is."

Emma: "On what basis…"

Gilbert: "It's the result of statistics on the internal affairs of the countries I've ruled."

(… It's not an emotional story; rather, it's a grounded story.)

Gilbert: "It is not uncommon for a royal family to become prodigal, and in worse cases, there are countries that enslave their people."

Gilbert: "This continent was built on authoritarianism. It is a world dominated by royalty and nobility."

Gilbert: "It is ingrained in your bones that a lowly person like you should not defy those in power."

Gilbert: "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Remember when you were chosen as Belle?"

Gilbert: "The report is that... you did not hesitate to slap a man who had been disrespectful to Chevalier."

Gilbert: "That was because you quickly decided that if anyone disrespects those in power, they will be killed."

Gilbert: "He actually pointed a sword at you, making sure his judgment was correct…"

Gilbert: "It's a funny thing when you think about it. How can one be guilty of disrespect?"

(I never thought about it before.)

For me, the royal family has always been recognized as "a person to be respected," and even if he was disrespectful and had a sword pointed at me, I tried to understand it because "he is a member of the royal family."

Gilbert: "There is no superiority or inferiority between you and me. As long as we are humans, we should all be the same."

Gilbert: "Of course, it may be necessary to have someone to lead socially."

Gilbert: "An outstanding person brings people together and builds a better tomorrow. That's how a person should be."

Gilbert: "But, you know, on the continent today, it's all about who has the power and who can get others to behave as they please."

Gilbert: "Of course, not all of them, okay? The Princes of Rhodolite are quite excellent in that regard."

Gilbert: "Even Silvio and Keith will be good monarchs."

Emma: "Then—"

Gilbert: "His Majesty the King of Rhodolite used to be a reputable monarch."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "People are creatures of change. There is no such thing as "absolutes."

Gilbert: "That's why authoritarianism shouldn't exist in the first place."

Gilbert: "There were only a handful of wise kings if you look at history."

(In other words, Lord Gilbert...)

Gilbert: "Because the king of a country that knows so much about deception and corruption…"

Gilbert: "My "ideal" is to trample down all the royal families that spread throughout the continent and free the people from the rule of power."

What I felt from Lord Gilbert was a strong will that resembled a solid castle wall.

No one can change him or stop him. I assume it is that kind of thing.

(A revolution involving not only his own country but the entire continent...)

(I know it would end up as a dream story for normal people, but not for Lord Gilbert.)

(But it's strange.)

Emma: "… It's contradictory."

Emma: "Isn't Lord Gilbert the epitome of that power?"

The figure sitting on the throne and looking down at me is exactly the "authority" that Lord Gilbert hates.

(Even though you once threatened me with that power...)

Emma: "Are you an exception?"

Gilbert: "Ahaha! No way."

Gilbert: "If the people in power disappear and a new era comes, I will be the first to become unnecessary."

Gilbert: "I might as well die then, right?"

Emma: "… Uh."

(What are you... saying...)

His usual refreshing smile shines brightly on his throne.

I couldn't believe my ears and wondered if I heard him wrong.

Gilbert: "Because it's natural. I want to wipe out those in power, but it's not right for me to survive."

Gilbert: "Especially the Obsidian royal family, the most evil bloodline on the continent."

Gilbert: "It's better for the world if it's destroyed... Ah, but if I'm going to die anyway, I want Little Bunny to kill me."

Gilbert: "If you do that, you'll remember me forever, won't you?"   //   "That way you will remember me for the rest of your life, right?"

Emma: "That's... of course I'm not going to do that!"

I screamed without a moment's delay.

Even if it is a joke, it is a bad one.

(Lord Gilbert's ideal is based on the assumption that he will die in the end.)

(And he doesn't think anything of it.)

It would have been better if he had said, "I'm an exception," like a villain.

Emma: "… Why do you go to such lengths to exile those in power?"

Emma: "Lord Gilbert should have benefited from the power...even to the point of killing himself..."

Gilbert: "That's..."

Gilbert: "… A secret."

(… That part is a secret.)

Gilbert: "But I don't think it's a bad deal for you."

Gilbert: "Rather, it would be more convenient for you if I died."

(…!)

Gilbert: "If I'm gone, maybe Rhodolite won't be trampled and the world will continue like this."

Gilbert: "Besides, when I die, you will be properly released."

Gilbert: "You can settle in Obsidian or go back to Rhodolite, whatever you want."

Gilbert: "Because the "power" that holds you back is gone."

(What is that...)

The front of my eyes were pure white, and the back of my head felt hot.

Emma: "… Are you serious?"

My voice spilled out unintentionally, and it was lower than usual.

Gilbert: "Of course—"

Gilbert: "… What's wrong?"

(What's wrong... with me?)

I look down, and my fists are shaking.

(Even if you're a big villain, I've never wanted you dead. I didn't even think about it.)

(Lord Gilbert... was not the kind of person who could think such a thing.)

It may be possible to think that it is a great villain who cannot be saved, I am already poisoned by malicious kindness.

And that kindness itself shouldn't have been a lie.

I suffered at Rhodolite because I was repeatedly exposed to Lord Gilbert's good intentions.

What he just said was an outright denial of that suffering and struggle.

(After acting like he was such a good friend of mine...)

(When the time comes, should I kill him? Is it better if he is dead? **

(… Don't be silly.)

I have no right to say anything about Lord Gilbert's ideals.

But for those few words, I should have the right to be angry.

Gilbert: "I don't get it. I don't see anything to be angry about right now..."

Emma: "Because you don't know that, it means that Lord Gilbert is not really my friend!"

Emma: "If you thought that I was the kind of person who would be happy to see you dead, that is beyond disappointing!"

The voice echoes to destroy the intimidation of the throne room.

Lord Gilbert, who could be seen in the distance, seemed taken aback.

(… I wish I were so evil that I wanted to kill him anyway.)

(Oh, this is bad...)

I feel like my vision is blurry.

As I wrinkled my brow and held on, I suddenly felt a breeze behind me.

???: "Lord Gilbert!!!"

(Whoa, what the!?)

A man in military uniform pushes open the door to the throne room and walks in,

Without paying attention to me, he pushes his way to the bottom of the stairs as if he were about to attack Lord Gilbert.

???: "You... you left the castle without saying anything again!"

???: "How much more do you want to shorten my lifespan?! Come on, now, let's test—"

???: ". . . . . ."

(... Oh, our eyes met.)

The man with curly hair stiffens, and so do I.

A strange silence fell.

Gilbert: "Good for you, huh? If you had slipped up just a little bit more, you... today would be the anniversary of your death."

???: "Who is she?"

Gilbert: "The Lady of Rhodolite."

???: "Rhodolite's… Ah! What? She really exists? Lord Gilbert's first—"

Gilbert: "Huh? You must really want to die."

(…?)

The man deliberately clears his throat and turns to me.

The salute-like gesture may be Obsidian's way of saying "hello."

Walter: "You are Emma, right? I've heard rumors about you... I'm Walter. My occupation is—"

Gilbert: "My aide. Servant. A maid. I'm having an audience, will you leave?"

(… I feel like he's deliberately covering his words again just now.)

(How did you know my name in the first place… What's the rumor?)

(I wonder if Obsidian has heard about the story of Rhodolite...)

As soon as the man finished his greeting, he pointed his finger at Lord Gilbert.

It felt like an obvious act of disrespect, but there was no one there to reproach it.

Walter: "I will definitely visit you later. Listen, please don't run away. Even if you do, I will let Roderich catch you."

Gilbert: "Alright, alright. I'll act like an adult when I feel like it."

Walter: "Not when you feel like it... but absolutely!"

Gilbert: "Okay, okay."

After a strong tone of voice and a reminder, the man leaves.

It was like a storm.

Gilbert: "… I've lost interest."

With a resounding sigh, Lord Gilbert stands up from his throne.

The audience is apparently over.

(Me too... I'm not sure I can speak well right now.)

Lord Gilbert descends the stairs with the sound of his cane.

He came right next to me, and I didn't make eye contact with him.

Gilbert: "Yes. The fact that I am His Majesty the Emperor has only been revealed to a limited number of people."

Gilbert: "You know what I mean… right?"

(He'd like to say he'd kill me if I ever told anyone about it.)

I nodded while looking away, and Lord Gilbert took another breath.

Gilbert: "What can I do to put you in a better mood..."

(... I really don't know.)

(A genius like Prince Chevalier, who can easily manipulate people's minds...)

Gilbert: "A whole day's sleep will do it, right? By the way, I've got your room all ready for you."

Gilbert: "I asked them to make the interior as similar to Rhodolite as possible, but I hope you like it."

(I can't believe he even had a room ready for me.)

This is Obsidian. There is no need to isolate me by daring to be friendly, like in Rhodolite.

Still, Lord Gilbert's poison-like kindness hasn't changed.

I am tormented again by being treated not as a hostage but as a guest of honor.

Emma: "… That's the point…"

Gilbert: "Hm?"

Emma: "Nothing..."

(I hate… this feeling.)

══════════════════

—After taking Emma to her room, he returned to his own room for the first time in a long time and found himself in an unusual silence.

Walter: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "How much longer?"

Gilbert laughs as he buttons his shirt.

But Walter, sitting in the chair across from him, said nothing.

Walter: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "I'm asking you, so tell me."

Walter: "… You really..."

The chair falls over in the moment of a vigorous standing up.

Walter: "I beg you, please stop. This country goes on without you. That's how you were raised. So..."

Gilbert: "You didn't answer my question."

Walter covers his face with his hands under the pressure of his compelling smile.

His fingertips trembled, and his breath spilled from the gaps.

Walter: "… I don't want to say it."

Gilbert: "I see... it was the right decision to return home a little earlier."

Walter: "Hey… That story you've been telling me for a long time—seriously think about it. Now, I really believe you." **

Gilbert: "It's not a matter of believing or not believing, it's not necessary in the first place."

Walter: "Then why did you bring that woman here!"

Gilbert: "… That's terrible."

Gilbert: "Because I’m a big villain who couldn't be saved."

Walter: "You..."

A blood-colored, cold gaze pierces Walter, as if to interrupt his fury.

A pressure resembling murderous intent dominated the place in an instant.

Gilbert: "Never speak of it. She is no exception."

Walter: "That woman... she doesn't know yet?"

Gilbert: "She doesn't know, and she never will. And I have no intention of telling her."

Gilbert: "I'm going to rest now. Good night."

Walter: ". . . . . ."

Walter: "I'm not giving up."

Grabbing a sturdy-looking bag from the desk, Walter leaves the room.

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "… Why…"

Gilbert: "Why wasn't Little Bunny... happy about it?"   //   "I wonder why the little rabbit... wasn't pleased."

══════════════════

Obsidian is synonymous with evil, so much so that it was called the land of deceit and corruption.

When it comes to life in the castle, which is its home base, I imagined it to be brutal.

I was prepared for the fact that I would not be treated well, including being in a vulnerable position…

Gilbert: "Look, Little Bunny. So, how do you like it?"

Emma: "This... is a kitchen."

Gilbert: "Yes, a kitchen. Your very own kitchen."

Emma: "!?"

(Next to the guest room, there is a kitchen! W-What do you mean...)

Far from being treated badly, it is rather too good to pull off.

I had been dragging out yesterday's events until a few minutes ago, but it was such a shock that it blew away, even if only temporarily.

Gilbert: "This is the same as the room, I had them prepared in advance."

Gilbert: "Do you know why I... prepared the kitchen?"

(I see... that means...)

Emma: "You want me to make sweets."

Gilbert: "As expected of Little Bunny. I'm glad you know me so well."

Gilbert: "—… Actually, I just wanted to please you."   //   "—… I really just wanted to make you happy."

Emma: "… What is it now?"

Gilbert: "No, it was nothing."

(I can't believe you liked it enough to prepare a kitchen…)

(I've only served amateur sweets... and they were as simple as cookies.)

Lord Gilbert's smile was so bright that he seemed like a different person from the emperor who sat on the throne yesterday.

Gilbert: "You are free to use any of the ingredients here."

(Let's see... eggs, milk, flour, sugar, fruits, vegetables... that's quite a lot of variety.)

Emma: "I have heard that Obsidian is suffering from food shortages..."

Gilbert: "It's not like that these days, you know?"

Gilbert: "Because we have built supply lines and established stable food production technology in the last 10 years."

(That's right... just like Prince Chevalier said.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chevalier: "—Second, I want to know the degree of development of Obsidian's technology."

Chevalier: "Obsidian's military engineering technology seems to be quite advanced..."

Chevalier: "Those technologies must have been applied to many things related to daily life."

Chevalier: "Aside from the rural areas, the central areas may be even different."

Chevalier: "Go and see for yourself."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "—Obsidian has a lot of barren areas despite its vast land. But just because it's barren doesn't mean it has land."

Lord Gilbert spun his words without any hesitation. His eyes were somewhat lively.

Gilbert: "If we can build facilities that can grow crops regardless of the soil, it will take a lot of work, but there is no reason why we can't provide food in our own country."

Gilbert: "If we can produce food, we can also produce the fodder necessary for livestock. That's why we don't have food shortages right now."

Gilbert: "By the way, most of the food here comes from the research facility in the castle."

Gilbert: "We can't put those on the market... but we collect things that are a waste to throw away."

Gilbert: "Then it's also sweets that help eliminate the loss of ingredients."

Gilbert: "That's what I mean."

(Though the way you spoke just now was like your own achievement…)

Emma: "… Did Lord Gilbert solve the problem of food shortages?"

Gilbert: "Of course, it's my job. The food supply is an important issue, necessary to guarantee a minimum standard of living."

Gilbert: "Did you think we were always at war?"

Emma: "… I'm sorry."

(As expected, the idea was shallow.)

I had the impression that Obsidian was focusing on military affairs and neglecting domestic affairs, but it seems I was just being shallow.

Gilbert: "Hehe... your image is not wrong either. The Emperor has always had that policy."

Perhaps the "emperor" here was the late former emperor.

Gilbert: "He won a lot of countries, but he didn't look inward at all."

Gilbert: "They were almost lawless, so Albert and I spent a lot of time trying to improve it."

Gilbert: "Well, the regions are still so corrupt that I think I'm only halfway there."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "More than—"

(Whoa…!)

Suddenly I am hugged on the shoulder, and my body leans back.

I fell into his cold chest with all my might, but he held me.

Gilbert: "What? Can't you just read the atmosphere and leave us alone?"

(… What the…)

(!?)

When Lord Gilbert calls out to the doorway, a crowd of soldiers appears.

1, 2, 3 — Surrounded by about 10 male and female military personnel, my body stiffened.

(I didn't notice it at all. I guess they were waiting for Lord Gilbert outside.)

Soldier 1: "I am sorry. Lord Gilbert, the military has asked me to consult with you concerning the budget..."

Soldier 2: "I, too, would like to ask Lord Gilbert's advice on lifeline capital investment—"

Gilbert: "You know, I've been telling you for a long time. You don't have to rely on my judgment every time."

(... Eh, even though he's the Emperor?)

Gilbert: "You are professionals in each field whose abilities have been bought."

Gilbert: "I'm giving you full authority because I think you can do it. Or what? Do you doubt my eyes?"

Soldier 1: "No, sir! But I would like to have your opinion, Lord Gilbert, because it would be very helpful..."

Soldier 2: "Please. After all, there is no one better than Lord Gilbert's keen eye!"

Gilbert: "Nope. Everyone, you can see that I'm busy, right?"

Instead of letting me go, he holds me tighter.

The gazes of the soldiers were clearly perplexed and bewildered.

Emma: "Uh… No! No, he isn't! Please give priority to your official duties." **

Gilbert: "Ehh..."

Emma: "In the meantime, I'll make you some sweets, how about that?"

Gilbert: "… I think I'm the one who's sulking."

Emma: "Lord Gilbert…"

Gilbert: "All right, all right. Just for today."

With a deliberate shrug, Lord Gilbert finally moves away from me.

Gilbert: "All of you, make it quick. Each of you has two minutes."

Lord Gilbert walks into the circle of soldiers, and the atmosphere changes.

I could see that the people gathered were tense and straightened their backs.

But that is not a bad thing.

Rather than dominating through fear, they seem to be voluntarily respecting Lord Gilbert out of reverence.

(… It became clear to me when I came to Obsidian).

(Lord Gilbert is an emperor who can act for the people.)

Looking back on our discussion of ideals the other day, it was also about being close to the weak.

While he acts like a big villain in other countries, he appears to be a perfectly good emperor in his own country.

(But there are some things that bother me.)

What the soldiers are talking about is the kind of thing that the nobles and bureaucrats bring to Rhodolite.

However, there are no signs of nobility at all in this castle.

(Even though Obsidian is a country of military and ore, it's unnatural that there are only soldiers—)

══════════════════

Gilbert: "Ah, is that so?"

In the end, soldiers gathered one after another under Lord Gilbert, and even though each person had two minutes, it was nighttime by the time they had all been processed.

Lord Gilbert, who was in a very bad mood because of this, took me back to his room with the baked cookies,

He started a tea party on the bed in a bad manner.

(Actually, I was surprised that Lord Gilbert's room was like a library…)

(I have a lot of questions, like what kind of books are on the bookshelves…)

What I asked before them was about the wonder of the absence of the nobles.

Gilbert: "It's the same as His Majesty the former emperor."

Emma: "The same...?"

Gilbert: "Yeah. I killed them."

I felt dizzy.

Emma: "… Not only the emperor, but also the nobles?"

Gilbert: "Of course, I didn't kill them all, okay? I just wanted to clean up the deceit and corruption, and there are still a lot of nobles out there."

Gilbert: "The people who work in the castle are all highly qualified, chosen from a wide range of people, from commoners to nobles."

Gilbert: "The reason they are all dressed almost entirely in military uniform is to break down the barriers between the nobles and the commoners."

Gilbert: "The castle you are in is still not perfect, but it's better than it was a decade ago."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

(I knew it, but life may be the same as dust for Lord Gilbert.)

(So he lost the value of his own life as well... the more he killed people, the more he lost the importance of his life.) **

No matter what the reason may be, the act of killing is inherently unforgivable.

Perhaps Lord Gilbert knows this, which is why he doesn't cling to his own life.

(… Even though I'm calm.)

My chest feels murky again.

I can't taste the cookie in my mouth.

When I cast my eyes down, cold fingers grabbed my chin as if to say no—

Gilbert: "Hey, I want you to tell me one thing too..."

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Ok, apropos of my "For You" page being a dear and showing me a ton of posts about not being a dick to people for their ships and as someone who came to fandom spaces AFTER graduate school...

The fact that people are losing their minds over ships and noncon in fic BLOWS MY MIND given the Western Canon and historical examples of shippers. I'm putting a cut here for people who don't want to see the lists of messed up shit I read FOR CLASS, but for those of you who are curious, read on, please.

Oh, and before I forget: If your automatic response to this post is "Yes, but you are talking about GrEaT lItErAtUrE, it has something to say and a historical context to think about," then take a second and work your way out of the gatekeep-y stranglehold that academia has on you. If context and message matter in literature, they matter in fanfics too.

CW for masturbation, noncon, dubcon, historical ship wars, main character death, violence...as many Ao3 Archive warnings as I (or you) can think of. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat.

The TLDR is that I have taken significantly more psychic damage from canonical literature than fanfic, and a stupid high number of canon writers fit the definition of fanfic writer.

So in no particular order, here are some of the truly fucked up things I read for class:

A short story where a teenage boy steals his little sister's Ken doll, tears the head off, and jerks off into the Ken doll until the plastic torso is full. You know of what. (This was in the Scribner Anthology of Contemporary Short Fiction, and I'm pretty sure it was AM Homes's "A Real Doll")

A short story where the reader follows a group of kids at Thanksgiving whose parents are doing a laying on of hands to cure their mother's cancer, and while the kids are unsupervised on a trampoline, one of them is bounced aggressively off and breaks their neck in a fall. (Julie Orringer, "PIlgrims")

"The Rocking-Horse Winner" by DH Lawrence, which is read as a masturbation scene in How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster

Every single bed trick in any Shakespeare (or other early modern) play is rape by deception (this occurs in All's Well, Measure for Measure, Much Ado [if you squint], and Two Noble Kinsmen). Bed tricks also occur in the Bible, Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, Boccaccio's The Decameron, and Middleton and Rowley's The Changeling. Other examples include Zeus pretending to be Amphitryon to impregnate Alcemene with Hercules and Uther Pendragon taking Gorlois's place to impregnate Igraine. And this isn't an old, unused trope either, it's used as recently as The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Family Guy

Titus Andronicus has rape and cannibalism in it, plus a metric ton of violence, brutality, and lopping of limbs. Romeo and Juliet has murder and an attempted forced marriage. Shakespeare in general is fairly fucked up the more you read it.

There are a metric ton of rapes given in verse too, including Yeats's "Leda and the Swan" and Ovid's "The Rape of Proserpina". A more modern example is the Broadway show Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

Nabokov's Lolita. 'nuff said.

John Ford's Tis Pity She's a Whore has twincest, graphic violence, and a scene in which the male twincest MC gets pissed off that the female twincest MC sleeps with someone else, so he stabs her through her lady bits so far that when the sword comes out, her heart is spiked on the end of it and he spends the entire next scene running around waving this sword with a human heart on it at people

William Golding's Lord of the Flies has a bunch of kids murdering each other for honestly no particular reason

In Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery," a town gets together every once in a while to randomly draw lots to decide who gets casually stoned to death

In William Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily," an entire goddamn town ignores Emily to the point where when her house smells like her dead, decomposing husband so bad that half the town can smell it, nobody bothers to check in on her. She had been SLEEPING WITH HER DEAD HUSBAND for literal years and nobody cared enough to check on her

Edgar Allen Poe's "The Telltale Heart" and "The Cask of Amontillado." I am aware that Poe is a horror writer. Doesn't make it any less fucked up that the protagonists of these stories murder a helpless old man because his eyes were creepy and brick their friend into a basement to die slowly, respectively

Literally all of Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men is deeply fucked up, but the moments that my particular English Class could not get over were the crack about Curly keeping one hand soft for his wife, and the fact that George Old Yellers Lenny at the end

The Giver by Lois Lowry discusses eugenics and both infanticide and euthanasia. I'm not going to sit here and say that NO fanfic addresses these topics, but honestly no fanfic I've ever read made me anywhere NEAR as disturbed as reading this book in FIFTH GRADE did

John Knowles's A Separate Peace has one kid thinking he accidentally-on-purpose murdered his best friend for the whole book

Sophocles's Oedipus Rex has incest, self-mutilation, and murder

Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale is well-known enough that I don't need to give details, right?

Jean Craighead George's Julie of the Wolves has an attempted underage rape in it

John Gardner's Grendel has a deeply fucked-up relationship with sex and sexuality, and Grendel holds a female character in a split over a fire because of said fucked-up relationship with sex and sexuality

This is nothing CLOSE to an all-inclusive list. So uh...if we aren't going to hold these stories to the moral standards we hold fanfic to, then we should lay off fanfic in general and fanfic writers.

And in no particular order, here are some historical shippers who were powerful enough to change the canon with their ships and fics:

Queen Elizabeth I was SUCH a Falstaff stan that she low-key threatened Shakespeare and insisted that he bring Falstaff back and give the character a happy ending. Hence we have The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Dr. Thomas Bowdler (of "bowdlerize" fame) is objectively a Shakespeare fanfic writer who was not a fan of smut or spiciness. He and his sister Henrietta Maria gave us The Family Shakespeare, a version of the Complete Works that is appropriate for children and women

Nahum Tate was also a Shakespeare fanfic writer--he turned King Lear into a comedy

We also get John Dryden and William D'Avenant fanfic-ing The Tempest, up to and including Dorinda, their OC (do not steal)

Dante and Milton both wrote Bible fanfic in The Divine Comedy and Paradise Lost, respectively

The Arthurian Legends are a goddamn tangled mess of fanfics and fanfics of fanfics that were written by "important white dudes" and so other "important white dudes" decided that the fanon would become canon

SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF was a fanfic writer. He wrote no original plots. He was the Elizabethan EL James but with actual talent

More modern examples? Madeline Miller and Rick Riordan are both writing Greek Mythology fanfics to SIGNIFICANT acclaim

The line between fanfic and adaptation is and has always been ephemeral. Who gets to be "canon" and who is relegated to "fanon" is largely a combination of circumscribing your current intellectual property and rights laws and passion. We don't get to go "canon is always morally fine because it's canon" because honestly I've taken SIGNIFICANTLY more psychic damage from the canon than I ever have from fanon, and at least I know that fanon works are written with love and passion, whereas Charles Dickens was getting paid by the word and IT SHOWS.

Fanfic isn't inherently morally dubious, and canon isn't inherently morally pristine. Fiction has no inherent morality. Worry less about how others engage with fiction, find what you enjoy, and have some fun with it.

[sunlightfeeling]

maybe in the future, I’ll do an analysis on this movie as a whole but for now,

this is just about a specific scene in Killing for the Prosecution

*definitely contains movie spoilers

**cw sexual assault/rape mention

I’ll provide the frames first for context

this ^^ is the most deceptively pivotal moment in this film

also this is the reference that I’ll be relying on for all of the law chat (disclaimer: i am not educated in law, not in any sort of law enforcement/legal field etc etc etc): https://law.lclark.edu/live/files/9686-gershmanpdf

—

while watching this movie back with a more scrupulous eye, i couldnt help but become…..really confused by this moment

(i don’t typically watch movies under a microscope but for the purposes of gifs, I take my time to soak in the information. It’s like research 😅)

i couldn’t figure out if the translation was tripping me up with strange wording, or if maybe it was the movie itself because the lines just weren’t flowing right for me

and so i did a bit of look into what a prosecutor’s role with victims are

and I’ll be honest I was a bit shocked because even with these types of crimes (highly specific/targeted ones)…

…the prosecutor is still an advocate for its jurisdiction and not the actual victim specifically

—

okay so now with that established..

this scene does an excellent job muddying those waters and making us question what a prosecutor is even good for if their whole system is rejecting a possibly black-and-white case

speaking from my own watching experience..I was honestly becoming livid..confused that there was so much push-back on this case….

it….in a way made me more understanding of Mogami’s motivations and emotions

because if there’s no way to get justice for someone committing such an atrocity because there’s seemingly not enough sufficient risk to a jurisdiction as a whole…

…what other option is there

(rhetorical question, rhetorical question)

—

this is exactly why it’s the most pivotal moment for me tho

it subconsciously makes us more understanding of why someone would interfere with an investigation..essentially have a personal agenda/vendetta to have a case work a certain way..and then ultimately become a vigilante when he runs out of options

[pyrepostings]

Whumperless whump event: “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

Free Birds and Fiddlers

Cw: discussions of noncon drugging, of noncon/dubcon sexual violence, of nudity and torture. Implied whumpee turned whumper.

~~~

Kevin knocked on the door softly before letting himself in anyway. Julian had said his door was always open to Kevin, and lately he's had to take advantage of that promise more than he'd like.

The room was dark, but even so Kevin knew where the small table and chairs were, and the small lantern which provided just enough glow to see by.

Julian stirred. "Mmh, Kevin? What is it?"

"Sorry for waking you. I couldn't sleep, and I hoped you would be still awake too. But it can wait until morning."

"It's alright. Just give me a second to wake up."

Kevin curled up on the chair, and ran his hand through his hair a few times. Once Julian had a decency of clothes on, he turned the lamp on his desk on, casting the room into what could actually be called light.

With a pitcher of water and a pair of cups in hand, Julian sat down across from Kevin. With a voice even lower with sleep than it normally was, he asked, "What's wrong, Kev?"

Kevin ran a hand through his hair once more. "I couldn't sleep. Nightmare."

"Mhm. Do you want to talk about it, or are you here for a distraction?"

"Talk about it, I think."

One of the cups, now full, was slid across the table into Kevin's slightly shaking hands. He didn't realize how dry his mouth was until he took a sip.

"What happened?"

Kevin started slowly. "It was about John. Or at least, that's the part that's still bothering me. It started like one I've had before, you know, where I'm on my back in the sand at the base of the wall, and I can't even breathe for the pain. This one started as that one. But, it morphed before the part where I get helped up."

Kevin was breathing hard as he continued. "I was still on my back, but in a bed now. I- it was John's. When he knocked me out. He already had me pinned, my side burned like it was an actual knife instead of that fucking needle. I couldn't fight him off-"

He had trouble fighting off tears in the present as well, and bit his knuckles in the effort.

"I couldn't fight him and then I couldn't fight at all. I felt frozen in my body. But I could still feel it, in the dream. I could still feel his hands, the weight. I could feel his mouth- an- and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't even yell at him I just had to take it. It felt so real."

Julian was silent for a moment. "Do you think he touched you like that after you went unconscious?"

"I don't know. He says- he swears he didn't, that he got the others as soon as I was out but- it's not like I can trust his word now."

"Have you had this specific dream before?"

Kevin shook his head. "No. I told you about the ones from the actual interrogation. I've been getting those a lot. But those are all memories, accurate as far as I can tell. But this- is my subconscious trying to tell me what happened?"

"Kev, it's possible that he touched you like that, but it's also possible that it was just a nightmare. People get exaggerated nightmare scenarios all the time. And with no proof of what happened specifically, you have to decide what you trust more."

"A liar and traitor verses my own traumatized nightmare. Grand."

"I suppose the more important question is what do you want to do about this?"

Kevin put his elbows on the table and palms to his eyes, as if blocking out sight would help him think. "I don't know. If that part really was just a nightmare I can't just punish him more for it. It wouldn't be fair to retaliate for crimes that only happened in my head. But it felt real. If- if he did touch me like that-

"I already consider what happened that night to be rape. But until now I just thought it went to the deception and no further. I didn't really entertain the idea that he might have kept going-"

That wasn't entirely true. He had entertained the idea for a moment when he woke up in the dungeon without the last article of clothing he had before being knocked out. He had thought about it enough since then to pursue that line of questioning briefly once John was captured and being the one interrogated by the enemy faction.

And each time, he pushed those thoughts away. He didn't want to believe them. He wanted to believe John told the truth that it went as far as the orders he was given and no further. But he just didn't know that for sure.

"You don't have to decide anything right now. I can talk to him if you'd like. You can't change that it happened if it did, but would a confession from him help? To know for sure at least?"

Kevin nodded, tearily. "I think so? I don't know."

"And that's ok. You don't have to know right now. All that matters is that the nightmare's over, you're safe."

Masterlist

@whumperless-whump-event

[beautifulsnake2162020]

The Vitulation Cycle: An Arthuriana fanfiction (King Arthur x OC and Arthur x Guinevere x Lancelot [eventually]) CHAPTER 3: LANCELOT

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction I do not make any money from this. Cultist Simulator elements belongs to the Weather Factory, House of the Dragon/Game of thrones elements belongs to George RR Martin and Arthuriana while generally regarded as under the public domain, it comes from the culture of Britain.

CW/TW: There is attempted rape and sexual assault via deception in this chapter. It's not graphic but it is there (towards the end). If you don't want to read it, the moment a certain guest arrives in Camelot - that's when you may want to stop reading (I'll be recapping the incident in the next chapter).

Chapter 3 - Lancelot

"Have you noticed?" Guin asks you one night as she lay in your embrace in her private chambers.

"It is hard not to. And it worries me." Your King - Arthur has been planning a private trip. To where you don't know. You didn't mind if there were some matters that he chose to confide in someone else. What worries you is that in this case, he only confided in his sister Morgan. And she was more than happy to keep any information of this trip away from either you or Guinevere.

It was not lost on either you or Guinevere that Morgan has always been rather protective of Arthur in her own ways. It was rather funny that people think Morgan is scheming against her brother and sought to undermine his work. The actual truth is Morgan was scheming to undermine Guinevere's influence over Arthur's life. And now as her assigned protector and her secret lover, this meant danger to you too. This was not to say that Arthur did not protect Guinevere. Several times he managed to prevent things from getting worse between Morgan and Guinevere. Which is why Morgan waits for whenever Arthur was not around to put her plans against Guin in action.

The first one was about two months after Arthur gave his blessing to you and Guinevere in that Beltane celebration. You and Arthur were having a meeting with a nearby lord in his territory that was strategic to Camelot's defenses. It was when you were both away from Camelot that a mysterious green knight appeared in court. The moment Arthur received the message from Guinevere you could see the exhaustion and a bit of annoyance in his face that he tries to hide from everyone who weren't in his confidence.

"Was there an attack?"

"Not the kind you are thinking. A green knight of magical origin has appeared in court."

"Magical origin?" You ask puzzled.

"He beheaded himself on front of Guin causing her to faint and went away just as quickly." When your eyes met Arthur's you could feel your shared feeling that perhaps one of you should have been left at Guin's side when this happened. But you both knew that neither of you could miss this crucial strategic meeting.

"I'll have to speak with my sister once we get back."

"What makes you think it was her?"

"Lance, how many people do you know in my court who has magical powers and who has contacts with other magical folk?" There were only two people that came to mind. And Merlin is the least likely to be behind this incident.

Fortunately Guin was able to quickly recover and neither you nor Arthur did not need to venture out of Camelot any further.

You remember how you felt a swell of affection within you as he joined you in checking if Guin was well.

"Arthur I'm fine, truly."

"If you are certain."

"Don't"

"Don't what?"

"Think this is your fault."

"Perhaps I should have-"

"Don't be ridiculous Arthur, you both needed to be there."

"Still-"

"I know it's hard to believe, but I'm stronger than you think. I was just startled that's all."

"That doesn't mean it's okay for my sister to do this to you."

"My lie-Arthur, Morgan is just doing what she thinks is right." You finally enter the conversation as your lover and your unrequited beloved look to you.

"She's just trying to protect you, even though there is no threat to protect you from."

He sighs.

"I know, but I wish she wouldn't do this. If only she could just know both of you a little better…know you both just as I do, then maybe there would be no need for her to act this way."

"I highly doubt that would happen Arthur. I've tried to bond with her during the early days of our marriage, but she has remained cold towards me. It's almost as if my mere existence is a nuisance to her. But don't worry, she caught me by surprise and that won't happen again."

"Besides, it's beyond your control Arthur on who bonds with who. Some people just simply don't like each other. To force a friendship between them may only make things worse. This might be the case between Guin and Morgan."

You say hoping your voice and expression was enough to remove his worries for now. Your hand wanted to reach out to his, but you resist. Neither you or Guin know why it seems he is blind to both of your affections. You suspect that it may be Morgan's influence over him.

It was times like these when you wonder if the fates were playing a game with you. How is it that Arthur's heart is fully capable of loving nearly everyone but is blind to your small moments of adoration for him? Does he know that him giving you his blessing to you and Guin only made both of you fall for him more?

It was times like these when you were reminded how in many ways he was a better person than you. How he strives to make Camelot if not the whole of Britain better. How he still thinks of his enemies as people while you and the other knights of the round table had simply seen them as enemies to be slain for the people you loved and sworn to protect. How he was able to unite many groups of people without allowing them to compromise who they were.

And he did this all by making people forget he was a King, but rather only a man who wanted to truly speak with you without the barriers titles or the lack of them created.

It was why whenever he would allow you to hear his grievances and insecurities, you had to resist moving closer to him. Resist showing through your flesh why he was the best person to be your leader.

Resist showing how you felt for him. It was bad enough that you couldn't resist your feelings for Guin who was supposed to be only your Queen and nothing else. He allowed you two to be lovers. You've already stolen Camelot's Queen, but Camelot cannot afford to lose it's beloved King. With Guinevere it was comforting to know that her feelings for you had remained ever since your night of passion together after you rescued her from Malegant. And ever since your union was secretly allowed you have discovered that it had become even more passionate than since you've first lain together.

With Arthur, the sad truth was that you were his confidant and dear friend. His heart belonged to Camelot. No matter how much you - and Guin - wanted to be his lover, Camelot came first. You would confide in her as you both also long for Arthur to share in the passions you two shared. It's what made him so frustrating and yet so beautiful.

So beloved.

Until the day when Arthur felt he no longer owed Camelot, or that Camelot owed him even a little bit of freedom to be himself, you would have to settle being among his confidants. The few with whom he would allow a glimpse of the man behind the King with all the things he is scared to show everyone else.

And you would bury all his secrets deep within your soul, even if you would have to take it to the grave.

Perhaps it was a little bit of selfishness that caused you to worry. Or maybe it was rooted from fear that he was slipping away from your grasp. You were already desperately grasping to remain in his confidence when he began to seemingly be close once again with Morgan. You would never want to break their bond, even though there are many times when temptation almost made you do so. You don't know why Morgan seems to hate you and Guinevere, but it was clear that she cared about Arthur to think either or both you and Guin were threats to him. If only you could tell her that you would never threaten Arthur, and if you were indeed a threat to him you would be the first one to remove yourself from becoming a threat to your beloved. If only Morgan would tell you why she thinks you and Guin are threats to her brother.

"There is no need to fret, I've already prepared all of you for what may happen in my absence and I trust you all to know what to do under pressure." Your King says a few days before he begins his private pilgrimage. To where, he would tell no one.

No one except Morgan le fay.

"Besides, Morgan would be with me. You are all well aware that she is more than capable of protecting me."

"But who will protect you from her?"

"Are you volunteering yourself to be killed sir Gwaine? I personally wouldn't mind but my brother here would have issues with it." She says as if her voice alone was a dagger made of ice. Even if it wasn't pointed at you, you didn't need to be near it to know how sharp and painful it would be should she actually attack.

"Morgan."

"If your knights can't handle me dear brother, then I fear for your safety in their hands."

"Are you sure you don't need anyone more for your personal protection?" Guinevere hastily interrupts an incoming argument.

"Guin, please trust me. I'll be fine with Morgan alone."

"But-"

"It's Camelot that needs the most protectors. And it needs you to lead them." He then turns to the rest of the knights, and he looks at each one of you as you feel his commanding air become more prominent.

"Camelot needs all of you as its protectors. I am counting on all of you while I and Morgan are away. Will you promise me that?" Each one of you stood up.

"Aye" Sir Agravain says as he lays his sword on the table.

"You know me brother, if this is what you need." Sir Kay lays down his sword.

"Aye, especially since you aren't about to change your mind." Sir Bedivere lay his sword down as the rest of the room chuckled.

You waited until you were the last knight who has yet to lay down their sword. Looking into his eyes, you express as much love as you can as you stood across him.

"I shall do as you desire." Then you finally put your sword down. You hope he could see the love you had for him. You hoped that his smile was largely from your feelings.

"Thank you all. Don't be too rough with Mordred while I'm away." Mordred, a young orphaned boy just beginning his adolescence, and a knight in training flushed with embarrassment.

"Your majesty, that's not necessary."

"Mordred, I don't know what's going to happen while I'm away. For the meantime sir Kay will be in charge of your training. But if anything should happen don't hesitate to tell me when I return, alright?"

Mordred nodded with reluctance, before Arthur embraced him and he responded with a tight of embrace of his own. Mordred had become an adoptive son of sorts to Arthur. And yet even you couldn't help but be a little bit jealous at how quickly they bonded even though he isn't included among Arthur's confidants. Arthur looks up to you as he continues to embrace Mordred and using his eyes he glances at Guin before he gazes back at you.

Take care of her.

You give a subtle nod.

Of course beloved.

As I have said, I shall do anything you desire.

Had you known what was going to happen, you would have secretly sought a way for you to join Arthur's personal pilgrimage.

Not too soon after Arthur and Morgan had departed, a delegation from a ruler called the Fisher King had arrived to seek help on behalf of it's ruler. The delegation was lead by his daughter Elaine, with whom you have all given the standard care and respect. It wasn't lost on you that she was infatuated with you. It wasn't the first time a lady was infatuated with you but you have learned to ignore or polite turn down their affections.

You went through the secret passage which brought you to Guin's private chambers. You were in nothing but your night clothes to enable you to be faster in returning to your own chambers.

Upon your arrival you were surprised to experience the room in near complete darkness. Usually Guin would leave at least one candle still lighted if there wasn't a full moon in the sky. It was a moonless night, and yet the chamber had not even a small candlelight to guide the way.

You immediately experience what you thought was her lips. At the back of your mind you noted that she was a lot more eager than usual. Whenever the two of you would meet in her chambers she would be more careful with her steps in case there were spies lurking just outside of her chambers. Neither of you could take the risk of being discovered. That night, although she was still light in her steps, they weren't as quiet as she normally was.

Something was not right.

You realize this as you found yourself laying on her bed.

You have never made love to Guin on her bed.

The servants would easily find out and then your secret affair would be discovered. And so you two would make love on the rugs which provided some warmth from the cold as the heat of your bodies and kisses would provide the rest.

You two have made love in almost everywhere using almost every furniture. It was easier to clean up and once you were done, one of you would just open the window to allow the air to remove the scent of your passion. It was only when you two were thoroughly cleaned as you can be, that the bed was used for rest. On most nights you would only lay by her side and wait for her to sleep before silently getting dressed and returned to your room.

"Wait - who are you?" You ask as you hold her hands to stop her from taking your trousers off from your legs.

"What do you mean?"

"You're a stranger, you did this on purpose didn't you." You replied in a whisper that contained your disgust.

"I love you Lancelot. And I'll show how good of a lover I am." The stranger says in Guin's voice as she tries to lean in for another kiss.

You hold your hand against her.

"No, this stops now."

"Hmph, well if you will behave that way." You suddenly feel your body freeze and yourself forcibly erect.

"No!"

"Oh shush, I don't want us to be interrupted. Now, just in case you really won't give in, I need to take something only you can give."

"Wha-" A sensation of unease overwhelms you. You were horrified. This sensation would only come to you in the midst of pleasure with Guinevere. But here you are frozen and in pain as you felt your body release without your will.

"Ah yes, here we are." From what little you could make with your eyes, you see the stranger still in the form of Guin magically guide your release into a glass container.

"This is for later, I'm not surprised that you tend to give so much." The stranger tucks it away as the stranger spreads her legs in Guin's form and was prepared to sink into you.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Guin screams as she barges in her own chambers through the secret passage with Merlin following her.

"Shit." The stranger says as she immediately gets off you. The moment she does, Guin holds her down against the floor. Merlin immediately assesses you in your frozen state traumatized state.

"A simple freezing spell with multiple layers. Can you speak?" You try to but your mouth now refuses to move.

"Don't fret, I know the counter spell, but it may take awhile."

In your periphery you see a flash of light as Guin stands up and brushes some of the dirt off her clothes.

"Lancelot? Darling what happened?"

"He can't talk now Guinevere, you may have to wait till morning. How are you feeling?" Guin rubs her temple as she let's out an uneasy groan.

"I had expected I might be a target for assassinations, but I never thought that I was slowly drinking my way to sleep since the arrival of our guests."

"The sleeping potion was poured into all the drinks that was used to entertain the Princess Elaine. My guess is that the Princess and those closest to her, took the antidote and was able to somehow pour it in all the drinks used to welcome them. Now aren't you glad your majesty that I refuse to partake in such celebrations? Otherwise who knows what may have happened."

Guinevere shakes her head.

"I don't want to think on what may happen. I will have some words for her in the morning should she still be here."

A knock from the main door of her chambers startled her. She goes to see who it is as Merlin continues to heal you and remove the spell while making sure to shield you from whomever was entering. You're not sure how much you could trust Merlin with the secret of your affair. Like Morgan he was first and foremost on Arthur's side. And although he may be healing you now, you're not sure if you've gained an ally or an enemy.

"Mordred? What are you doing this late-?"

"Your majesty, the Princess and the entire delegation left. It-it's as if they disappeared into thin air after several bursts of light." Mordred says as he takes a breath after saying his message a little too fast.

"Everyone of them?"

"Yes your majesty. All they were saying is that they got what they came for. I'm not sure what they mean my Queen since it seems like nothing was taken from the treasury or anything valuable."

An eerie silence follows.

"I see."

Guin says in one of the harshest tones you've heard from her.

"Ma-ma'am?"

"Mordred, tell the knights that after we break our fast we will be having a meeting at the round table. I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at our new enemies."

"Ye-yes my Queen."

When he leaves, she came to your side.

"Don't worry my love, I will send a message to Arthur to encourage him to return to us. Just rest now, don't rush, you need to recover."

And after seeing her comforting smile you allow yourself to descend into dreams of both her and Arthur in your arms.

[selfihateyouithink]

Do y’all even watch the show.

Friendly reminder that Crowley started S11 with raping and killing four people for kicks, and ended S12 with knowingly giving Ketch the Hellhound that killed Eileen, applauding the Men of Letters killing Sam and Dean’s friends (Hunters) en masse, whining about his thankless job as king of Hell, rather than changing to be a person people thank, and planning to lock demons away/die to trap Lucifer, self-professedly because he hates them/him, and knows he can’t win (and with absolutely no fucking anything decent behind it). So no, his ass wasn’t redeemable, no, he wasn’t a fucking hero, no, people should not be mourning him if they want to seem like at all decent people [pointed Look @ Rowena], and no, he does not deserve to come back, no matter how much Mark “White Male Privilege” Sheppard bitches about it or how many characters they try to shove into the RIDICULOUS role of wanting that for even half a second.

[royal-mortician]

JTV spoilers again

another thought about the season finale here if you have sex with someone while knowingly withholding information from them that if revealed would make them NOT have sex with you.. is that really something you’d call consensual? are you sure?

[ballsballsbowls]

I am whatever passes for an extremely casual fan of the story and the changes version-to-version are about as interesting as the actual story for me.

But "Erik and Christine should have sex but it should also be normal sex mostly and not some extremely estoteric fetish shit" + "There should be sex in my adaptation but it should be, like, tasteful and not an erotica" + "Erik should be an endgame romance option" + "cw at the beginning of the book for effectively rape by deception, a major plot point of any version of phantom implying actual sex and a no-duh to anyone even marginally familiar with any version of the story" + "extensive discussion of Meyerbeer operas" ?

I am assuming the author was inspired to write by the musical movie adaptation and possibly an actual interest in opera and not just interest in having sex with a weird guy who manages to infest the opera house within like 5 years of its construction.

Reading someone's published phantom of the opera fanfiction as a palate cleanser

And I got to tell the chat, "Erik doesn't kill Buquet in this version; he breaks both his legs by throwing him from the catwalk but ONLY because he's a homophobe. #ally"

[zxphy]

🌧 Imagine Incel! Scaramouche x M! Reader.

Tws/cws: Masc aligned reader, forced feminization, misogyny, incel behaviours, Scaramouche is his own warning, mentions of non con.

Sorry but this imagine is gonna be really shitty, I'm not a very good writer.

Smut written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable.

Incel Scara! Complaining about how no "females" want to date him.

Incel Scara! Talking and complaining about low iq women and how he deserves to be in a relationship with a female but can't because all girls are the same or something.

Incel Scara! Being told to date a boy if he's so upset.

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

He ends up finding one of your selfies in a dicord server he mods. You look so CUTEE with your kitty gaming headset and your soft face, Scaramouche could almost mistake you for a female! He immediately sends you a dm and you both hit it off.

You got an instant role rank up and get bombarded with compliments and praise from Scaramouche, get invited to game nights and discord calls like "meetings".

Scaramouche continously spam pings you until you respond. Doesn't he understand that you have a life unlike him?

He'd 120% stalk your other social medias if he had access to them, (he does.) Through that, he learns that you have a girlfriend?? How come you get to have a girlfriend and he doesn't?! It's so unfair!! :(

Scaramouche finds that out that you're going to an anime con by yourself in the near future, luckily for him, he lives in that area.

He invites himself to hang out with you at the convention, not like you can say no! You don't have a say in the matter. He is joining you.

When Scara FINALLY meets you in person, you're in a cosplay of one of his favourite anime characters. He's absolutely fucking astonished. Ain't no WAY you're a guy. You've got such soft feminine curves, a pretty face and a thin waist, almost ANYONE would mistake you for a female.

How dare you be so deceptive. You must be put in your place.

On cue, you leave to go to the bathroom, and Scaramouche follows. Since no one is around, he forces himself in the stall with you and rapes you, "it's what you deserve" he said.

He some how manages to drag you to his stinky apartment after he's done, where you wake up in a completely different change of clothes. From your cosplay to a frilly dress and thigh highs!!

He tells you that you don't need to worry your silly little head about anything, all you need to do is be an obedient girlfriend.

I'm sorry this is REALLY shitty and I have absolutely no fucking CLUE what I'm doing. 🏃🏾‍♂️

Welp, first post lmao

I'M CRYING IT'S SO FUCKING BAD

[pynkhues]

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

[titleleaf]

[cw: rape by weird arthurian deception]

Sir, said she, I shall tell you the truth. The same night that my lord was dead, the hour of his death, as his knights record, there came into my castle of Tintagil a man like my lord in speech and in countenance, and two knights with him in likeness of his two knights Brastias and Jordanus, and so I went unto bed with him as I ought to do with my lord, and the same night, as I shall answer unto God, this child was begotten upon me. That is truth, said the king, as ye say; for it was I myself that came in the likeness, and therefore dismay you not, for I am father of the child; and there he told her all the cause, how it was by Merlin’s counsel. Then the queen made great joy when she knew who was the father of her child.