#no evil shall escape my sight

[stovreye]

Happy Birthday Harold 🥳🥳 !!! (shhhh pretend this isn’t like 10 days late…💀⚰️)

So um. I was travelling last week, which is why I wasn’t able to finish this on the 20th, but oh well I guess….

Credits: I used a variant cover illustrated by Daniel Sampere from Green Lantern #1 (2023) as reference for this piece

Saves and shares appreciated 🙈

[senseiwu]

Help I keep saying the green lantern oath over and over again for some reason

[museswithattitude]

break a leg. on second thought, let me break it for you. (Katerina to Green Lantern)

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" John said seemingly puzzled." Look, lady you need to step back."

@timeguardians

[princeadamart]

John Stewart 💚👊🏾

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“In Brightest day, in blackest night. Now evil shall escape my sight let those who worship evil’s might beware my power…GREEN LANTERN’S LIGHT!!!”

(ALT)

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Can you please write a dark Aemond x reader, where the greens win and force Rhaenyra’s daughter to marry Aemond and he makes all the blacks watch the bedding ceremony.

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Aemond x Niece!reader

summary: The greens win and force Rhaenyra’s daughter to marry Aemond and he makes all the blacks watch the bedding ceremony.

Word count: 1,4K

Warnings: Angst, groping, smut, rape, P in V

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"Let me see my mother, please" You pleaded with the green queen. She had a soft smile on her face, it was so fake you wanted to vomit. She stepped over to you, making sure to keep little space between you two.

"You will see her dear child, very soon, I promise" She moved to place her palm on your cheek. Your teary eyes wandered around the room watching as the maids lit candles to give the room some life as well as moved around with scented candles filling the room with the smell of lavender, other fixed the veil around the four postered bed so it would cover the sight but it was not nearly enough, it was as if they were not there.

"What do you mean?" You questioned, turning back to look at her. Her redish brown hair was pulled back with a green veil to cover half of it, the veil matched the dress she wore and the seven pointed star glittered in the candlelight.

"Sit down, dear" She pushed you back until your knees hit the edge of the bed forcing you to sit down. She moved to the side as one of the witnesses to the bedding ceremony. Your whole body was shaking with fear, you did not want this marriage nor did you want your uncle anywhere near you, you were supposed to marry Lord Cregan Stark.

The doors to your room opened showing your uncle smugly smirking at you. He was wearing his leather outfit with the conquerer's crown being prince regent while your other uncle Aegon was recovering from his injuries. He was smirking as if he won the world, which he did, he won the seven kingdoms. He stepped further into the room but the doors stayed open behind him. You stood up from the bed giving him full view of the sheer nightgown Queen Alicent had forced you to wear, you were never ashamed of your body and you did not care that he was staring. He stopped inches from you, he reached over to touch your cheek before moving behind you to sit on the bed, legs open with you in between.

You heard some scuffle from outside making you feel confused but your questioned were soon answered when two guards pushed your stepfather in, he was in chains from head to toes and his mouth was bound with a piece of cloth. His clothes were ripped in several places and you could smell burned flesh, new scars on his body.

"Kepa" Father. You whispered moving to walk closer to him but Aemond was faster, wrapping an arm around you from behind pulling back to sit on his lap. You were in too much shock to resist him.

Then another set of guards walked in pulling your mother who had ceased her fighting and wiggling, she looked lifeless in what is supposed to be her dress also in chains but much less than your stepfathers. They were moved to stand by each other facing the bed with Alicent on the other side.

"Muña" Mother. Another whimper escaped your lips. You could hear Aemond chuckling behind you as his grip tightened around you.

"One singular move and they will drop dead like your bastard brothers" Aemond threatened in your ear. You could not tear your eyes off your parents who were staring at you with despair, both unable to help you.

Again another set of guards walked in holding the small body of your brother Aegon III, he looked so weak shivering from head to toes in chains that looked so big on his young body. He was pushed to stand beside your mother who attempted to touch him but was pulled back by the chains.

"Now, shall we begin?" Aemond asked teasingly. Evil radiated off of him in waves. His hands moved to grope at your breasts, lips moved to kiss down your neck. You could feel him growing harder below you, knowing what was to come soon you averted your eyes from your family, unable to look at them any longer.

With swift movement Aemond ripped the gown from the front leaving you completely bare to the eyes of the queen, your parents and the guards with you in the room. Your eyes welled up with tears at the humiliation. Once upon a time your sympathised with your uncle but now all you could feel was hatred as he tweaked your bare nipples. Tongue licking a trail down your neck. Suddenly making you gasp he stood to push you back on the bed.

You pushed yourself on your elbows as he undressed. There was no running away, the guards would capture you in a second if you attempted to. You just sat back and watched as he undressed him before climbing on the bed. Tears now ran down your face the closer he got to you.

"Shhh dear wife, it will only hurt a pinch" Aemond assured with no emotions. Your eyes hardened with anger. You pursed your lips before spiting in his face. You could hear Daemon let out a laugh from the side as Aemond wiped his face.

"You are going to regret that" Aemond promised wickedly. He tore the rest of the nightgown off of you exposing the rest of your body. He grabbed your chin forcing you in yet another kiss.

A gasp tore from your throat followed by a scream when he shoved his cock inside of you, with no warning or preparing like your mother had once told you your future husband was supposed to do. The pain was unbearable, it was like you were being torn apart form the inside out.

"Yes, let the whole Keep hear you, niece" Aemond smirked. He rutted his hips agains yours with no mercy or care for your pain or the blood you were shedding, not only had he taken your maiden head but he was abusing the sensitive walls inside of you.

Your head lulled to the side crying even harder. Your hands curled around the sheets, the pain you caused your hands was of no help to the pain in your lower regent. Your legs attempted to kick Aemond off of you but it was no use. Your eyes caught those of your mother who had closed her eyes with even more tears streaming down her face as Aemond took advantage of you.

Your eyes moved to Aegon III squirming in the arms of the guards, a child who did not know what this act was but it was causing his older sister pain meaning it had to cease. Then your eyes moved to your stepfather, the man who had raised you since you were seven of age until now, he was stoic watching with dead eyes, he was dying on the inside for you but would no show it.

Seeing that none of them could help you, none of them were able to help you caused the fire inside of you to slowly dimmer, dying until there was nothing but ashes. Your body ceased fighting, legs fall limp by Aemond's sides, hands uncurling from around the sheet. Your eyes moved away from your family to look at the ceiling, your lips closed and you voice died in your throat. Alicent felt pity for you, you looked just as she did whenever Viserys used to ask for her, eyes watering at the memory.

Aemond grunted feeling his peak approaching but still he noticed your lack of response, your lack of fight, the lack of your usual fire that he fell in love with as children. He raised his head up from your neck where he buried his face littering kisses to the skin and sucking to leave his marks. His eyes watched as your body moved with movement, lulling your head up and down but your eyes looked like those of a dead person. He grabbed your chin moving your face to look at him, your eyes shot to him so fast it almost scared him, your eyes were lifeless. He groaned loudly as his peaked, inside of you.

Your body remained frozen, eyes staring at him lifeless and your breath in pants of sorts. He pulled away from, slowly pulling his cock out showing the smeared blood over it and on the bed and your legs, too much for the mere act of love making, this was rape pure rape and violence. To be honest Aemond was scared of you in that moment, the way you were just emotionless, inhuman.

[chernobog13]

In brightest day

In blackest night

No evil shall escape my sight

Let those who worship evil's might

Beware my power, Green Lantern's light!

[hxzxrdous]

heyy, as I heard you’re taking request again, I have a quite gross one. You see, I have some issues where I neglect self-care, especially hygiene such as not washing my hair, not changing clothes, not brushing teeth etc.

I know it’s very disgusting, and I’m really trying to do better but I can’t seem to get myself to do it.

Do you think we could get a Lady Lesso comfort one-shot regarding that matter?

I would love to read it, even though I totally understand if you don’t accept this xx

The School for Good and Evil

Note: AAAA thank yew sooo muchh for the request, loveeee. And I know exactly what you mean omg, I used to be either too depressed to properly take care of myself or/and my mom didn't accustom me of self-care from when I was little. Like she'd literally bathe me and my brother once a week. And she wouldn't teach us to brush our teeth. It's very hard to get myself to do these things now because I'm saur not used to it. 🫣💀 I HOPEEE YOU LIKE THE WAY I WROTE IT

Platonic Lady Lesso x reader

TW: Mention of depression, comfort, fluffity fluffy fluff, Lady Lesso literally mothering

ISN'T IT AMAZING?

"And that is how you defeat your mortal enemy," Lady Lesso walked around the classroom, twirling with her cane as she taught until her eyes darted over the empty seat that stayed empty over two weeks now. At first she thought you might be sick but now she knows you were ditching class.

After she dismissed the class, she made her way to your dormitory but nothing could've prepared her for what came next. Lady Lesso entered the dimly lit room cautiously, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. The air was heavy, mixed with smell of sweat. The sight of your mattered and tangled hair was too much. She immediately knew the cause was depression.

"Ah, there you are," she whispered, observing you. A sigh escaped her lips as she noticed your disheveled state. She pulled a chair closer and sat down, resting her chin on her hand. The silence in the room was broken only by the faint sound of breathing. Lady Lesso tilted her head slightly, contemplating how best to approach this delicate situation.

Lady Lesso watched as you stirred, your face contorted into a mix of confusion and fear.

Your eyes met Lady Lesso's, widening further upon recognizing the unexpected visitor. In a hushed tone, you stammered, "I'm sorry, ma'am - I didn't..."

A gentle wave of Lady Lesso's hand silenced the apology before it could fully form. "Shhh," Lady Lesso soothed, leaning forward in her chair.

"I- I think I need help- I feel so- so disgusting-" the girl whispered. "I can't get myself to wash and brush my teeth-"

Lady Lesso let out a light chuckle, masking her growing concern. "Wash?" She repeated, feigning innocence. "Perhaps we can turn this chore into a game," she suggested, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"A game?" You tilted your head

"Ah, I'm glad you're intrigued!" Lesso clapped her hands together once, the sound echoing in the room. "Imagine this," she began, leaning forward with excitement. "Every time you wash a certain part of your body or brush your teeth, you earn points." Her eyes locked onto yours, challenging you to accept the proposition.

"What do I get when I earn points?" You asked.

"Well, my dear, besides the satisfaction of a clean body and mind, you shall receive small rewards along the way." She paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "For every milestone achieved, I shall gift you something special - perhaps a book from my collection or a treat from the kitchens."

"Can you help me, please? I dunno how to get rid of the knots" the you pointed to her tangled hair.

Lady Lesso arched an eyebrow, studying the knotted mess that was your hair. "Knots, eh?" She murmured thoughtfully, her silver-manicured fingers lightly tapping against her chin. With deft movements, Lady Lesso expertly untangled the knots, her nimble fingers working quickly and efficiently.

Lady Lesso leaned on her cane and stood up, leading you to her luscious bathroom. Lady Lesso drew you a bath, adding in the lavender oil, she conjured some bubbles that changed colors.

You watched in amazement as the water transformed into a bubbling, lavender-infused oasis. You couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over you, despite your initial reluctance.

As Lady Lesso stepped out, leaving you alone in the bathroom, you hesitated for a moment before slowly undressing and slipping into the warm, fragrant water. The soothing sensation enveloped you, and you could already feel the tension in you muscles beginning to dissipate.

After the bath, Lady Lesso was waiting for you with two cups of chamomile tea.

"Remember the feeling after," Lady Lesso remarked, her tone lighthearted. "Isn't it amazing?" She then leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Don't beat yourself if you don't succeed right away. You can come to me anytime."

You hesitantly accepted the cup of chamomile tea, your fingers wrapping around it for warmth. As you took a sip, Lady Lesso knelt down in front of you, applying a soothing aloe vera cream onto your face. The cool sensation brought comfort to your skin, and you closed your E/C eyes, enjoying the gentle touch. Lady Lesso let out a soft chuckle as she playfully pinched your left cheek, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I always wondered how it would feel to have a teenage daughter," she quipped, her smile never fading.

Lady Lesso accompanied you back to your dorm. Lady Lesso led the way, her cane clicking rhythmically against the stones. Upon entering the room, she helped you settle into your cozy bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

"Sleep tight," Lady Lesso whispered softly, her fingers brushing through your hair in a comforting gesture. The following morning, you woke up to find a music box on your bedside table playing the melody of Swan Lake. A small note attached read, "isn't it amazing?"

[vickyvicarious]

Today's entry is so much about trust and connection. The complete erosion of it, that is. It starts right away, with Jonathan's seeming certainty that there are workmen in the castle but for the first time no effort given to even trying to communicate with them or seek any kind of assistance or opportunity for escape with their presence. Instead, they are fully aligned with Dracula's plans:

The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work of some kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away muffled sound as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some ruthless villainy.

This is of course the result of Dracula's efforts to sow distrust by clearly telling Jonathan one of them returned his letter to the Count, and reinforced by their laughter in the last entry. Jonathan no longer trusts the other people around him, not after being burned twice. At least not enough that he is pinning any kind of hope to it. Sure, he didn't get a chance, but in an earlier entry you can bet he would have said something about watching for one to speak to these workers he hears far off in the castle, or to check for an open door nearby them, etc. None of that is on the table anymore.

Moving on, a new scheme.

This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the local people be attributed to me.

Side note — here's another example of Jonathan being very clever and immediately connecting dots. He realizes instantly just what dual purpose Dracula stealing his identity serves. I mean, of course he must have been thinking very hard on why the Count took his belongings, if there was any extra purpose outside the obvious, but even so he is very quick to pick up on both the significance of the bag being carried (visible) and the implied purpose of delivering letters (invisible) as well as how both those will reflect on him.

Back to the point about trust though, this dual purpose is designed to make Jonathan seem more and less reliable at once. It's a backup to ensure his letters, if questioned, stand up to scrutiny. His written word can be trusted, it was definitely him who sent those letters! Of course this is predicated on a lie from the start since those letters were dictated, but now there is witness testimony to back up the paper trail, so to speak. (Yeah, I recognize the irony of Dracula prepping like this in the same entry that Jonathan laments his lack of access to legal rights that even criminals have. He doesn't have them but even if he did Dracula is basically framing him to get him 'convicted' regardless.) And then dressing up as Jonathan to abduct another child is the way to fully discredit him. Dracula made sure he was seen as Jonathan doing this - I think it's not just that the mother was uniquely determined to get her child back, but Dracula let her (and maybe others) see him-as-Jonathan taking the child away. He ensured the locals' belief that Jonathan is a lost cause, that he too has become a monster. If someone ever questioned them further about him they wouldn't want to help them find him. Not for any kind of rescue, anyway. More to the point though - if Jonathan tries to escape, they won't help him. Not anymore

It is a mirror to Jonathan's own opinion of the other people working in the castle. Just as he, due to Dracula's manipulations, sees their actions in the worst light - just as he aligns them fully with the Count's evil plans... so too will the locals do the same for Jonathan now. This is proven by the mother's response to the sight of him:

When she saw my face at the window she threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace:—

"Monster, give me my child!"

On top of just being incredibly cruel to everyone involved - Jonathan being blamed like this just after hearing her child die, her seemingly coming face-face with the monster who stole her baby and yet unable to reach him at all, and of course the kind of casual cruelty inherent in Dracula not even bothering to kill her himself but just sending his wolves after her - on top of all that, this moment serves a distinct purpose. It ensures Jonathan has no one to rely on but Dracula, no one at all.

.

...and yet, that's proven to be not entirely true in this same entry. Or is it? There's some interesting nuance here with the vampire ladies' second attack:

Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight.

Jonathan is shocked out of his trance by the sound of dogs howling. Only partially, sure, but it awakens him enough to fight back to full awareness and then flee the scene. The fact that he says it is distant dogs howling is such a kick in the gut. Because he encounters wolves again later this same entry and mentions them howling there. So he isn't just mistaking wolf howls for dog howls, he is noting two distinctly different sounds.

Dogs are not wolves. They aren't the wild beasts that prey upon people, the children of the night, the monsters in the dark - no, they are loyal and domesticated. They represent people, civilization. They are diametrically opposed to wolves and thus to vampires, and are shown to be instinctively opposed to Dracula.

So this means that Jonathan is symbolically saved by sounds of humanity. And yet there's a disconcerting element which undermines this brief bit of security. Because what makes the dogs howl? Dracula. Dracula kidnapping a child, in Jonathan's guise at that. And so the moment that rescues Jonathan from the vampire women once again... is once again linked to Dracula, once again substitutes another victim in Jonathan's place. This ambivalence is summed up in the final line of this section:

I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no moonlight and where the lamp was burning brightly.

Jonathan feels safer in his room, where he is protected from the wild monstrous moonlight by the reassuring light burning brightly, a sign of civilization and humanity. And yet the reason his room is safe comes down in the end to, not the light, but Dracula designating it as a 'safe space'. As if to drive the point home even more, not two lines later Jonathan finds that his sanctuary has once again become a prison: he's locked inside and cannot leave to try and save the child he can hear being killed nearby.

Because he is surrounded by Dracula's influence, because he is fully under Dracula's power, any link to humanity is inevitably tainted. Jonathan cannot maintain any connection to civilization or trust in any people. His best chance is a vain feeling of false security. (Excluding his journal, of course - the diary is unknown by Dracula, and thus outside his influence. And Jonathan so clearly relies heavily upon it to keep up his hope, his sanity, his resistance.) At least, not while he is in the castle, the seat of Dracula's power. And unfortunately, there seems to be no way out.

[lavender-romancer]

Crosses on my body

Part Two  Tommy Shelby x Reader 

You were a nun in Dublin but when you decided to take action against those in powerful positions in the church you had to escape. When you turn up in Birmingham and begin a relationship with Tommy Shelby will he be able to protect you from your past? 

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

previous part

"Jesus, our Lord. If you're there…why do you hide from me?" You knelt beside your bed with your hands clasped together. "Grant that I never lose sight of the ugliness of sin, the glory of Christ, the beauty of holiness, or the wonder of grace. Help me to seek you every morning with heart, soul, mind, and strength. In Jesus' name. Amen." 

As you climbed into bed you thought over your evenings with Tommy. You had been to the church every evening together for 7 days now. Each time you either taught him how to pray or you would kiss him to see if you would be smited. The more Tommy told you about himself the more you became convinced he was consumed by evil. But evil you could save him from. Tommy said that you had been sent to save him, but you had to find salvation for yourself first. 

You were walking down to the crypt of a church, you assumed this was a dream but they often felt so real it was hard to know. The air was crisp against your skin, making your hair stick up. When you reached the bottom of the stairs you saw some of your sisters. 

"Sister Marianne! It's so good to see you," you exclaimed and she turned around with a horrified look. 

"What did you do!" She screamed. 

"I didn't do anything!" You took a step back and she moved towards you, eyes turning black as she threw you against the wall. Her face twisting into a horrifying amalgamation of darkness and blood. 

"What have you done!" Her voice boomed.

You were suddenly surrounded by a circle of your sisters from Dublin, they were chanting something with their heads bowed moving around you. As you stepped back trying to get away from them you tripped over and saw Father Thomas' bleeding body, his neck slashed. Lying in a pool of his own blood you started screaming and crawled backwards but the faceless nuns pushed you towards him. 

"You thought you could escape didn't you!" He screamed before getting on top of you and choking you. "You have sinned! Repent or you shall suffer in the bowels of hell!"

You could feel the life draining out of you, your eyes fluttering shut, his eyes were crying blood and he had this smile. This bone chilling coolness about this smile that made you terrified to keep your eyes open. No matter how much you struggled you were held down, he was too overpowering- you couldn't fight it. 

Waking up with a scream you began sobbing uncontrollably, holding and rocking yourself back and forth. 

"Lord God, I pray for your protection as I begin this day. You are my hiding place, and under Your wings I can always find refuge. Protect me from trouble wherever I go, and keep evil far from me. Amen." You recited the prayer that you had had to use so many times back in Dublin. So many times having asked the Lord for protection and so many times your prayers had not been fulfilled. How were you to trust in the Lord when he couldn't even protect you in your dreams? But it was all you had. Catholicism had been in your world since you could remember so even if it was all placebo or you were seeing things that weren't there, you needed faith. You had no one else who would care for you the same way, not anymore anyways. Anyone back in Dublin willing to help you was long gone by this time. 

"Do you feel it coming back yet?" Tommy asked as you knelt in front of Mother Mary praying your rosary. "The faith I mean. Or is your crisis over,? 

"I had a nightmare. Last night…about my old life. It looks like God won't even protect me from that regardless of all my confession work. I don't know what to think anymore, but I can't let go." You looked up at Thomas siting on the pew and sighed, still clutching your rosary you stood up and sat next to him. 

"What was the nightmare about?" 

"Things you won't understand, but mostly demon, devil based horror. I feel like something is following me around at all times. Some kind of being with a nefarious purpose." You started biting the skin around your thumbnail. 

"I'm sure I would understand." Tommy said quietly.

"There's things I can't quite trust you with yet. In time I'm sure I will. But revealing my deepest secrets to you would not be wise." You made the sign of the cross with your crucifix and ended your prayer with a few minutes of meditation. 

"You can trust me," Tommy said later when he was walking you back to your lodgings.

"How do I know that?" You asked with your arms crossed. 

"Because I can also reveal a secret to you, I've probably got the longest list in Birmingham. Mutually assured destruction is the best start to companionship." Tommy blew out a cloud of smoke that you watched rise up into the air, dissolved into the night sky. "My mother used to tell me smoke made the stars, possibly to explain why my father smoked the amount he did." 

"Is that your secret?" You asked. 

"Nah, just a story. My secrets are more sinister than that, I know you're hiding something but I can't imagine it's sinister in nature." Tommy seemed to underestimate you entirely which made it all the more entertaining that you held the cards in the conversation.

"I think you think too little of me and my past." You smiled at him.

"Perhaps. But I've known women like you, shrouded in secrecy that I can't quite seem to figure out until it's too late for me." He stopped and leant against a brick wall, looking you up and down with a gaze that penetrated into your mind. 

"Is that what your wife was like?" You weren't sure if the question was too personal for him to answer. 

"She was deception based from the start, but one way or another we fell for each other." Tommy looked glassy eyed, you couldn't picture this being the type of man who would cry but honesty would catch anyone off guard. 

"I'm sure I'll reveal my secrets to you, someday. But not now." You carried on walking past Tommy and he ran his tongue across his bottom lip before walking after you. 

"But truth will set you free, as you've probably said before to some lost soul" Tommy joked and you smiled. 

"That's true. But some secrets can put you in harm's way and…I don't trust anyone truly. Life's safer that way." Your expression was subtly sad but Tommy noticed. 

"I only trust my family and even then there's some exceptions. Having no allies isn't the way to go." Tommy stopped and he stood closer to you. 

"Are you proposing an allyship?" You whispered looking up into his eyes. 

"Perhaps. You light my cigarette, I'll light yours and so on."  Tommy held out a cigarette and placed it between your lips, a confusing look on his face before he used his hand to shield the air and lit it.  

"That's sounding horrendously suggestive, Mr Shelby." You breathed smoke up into the air, still uncertain on what the lack of distance between the two of you meant. 

"Does the suggestiveness scare you?' Tommy asked in a low raspy voice. 

"You don't know anything about my inclination for suggestiveness." You smiled and turned on your heel. "I'll see you tomorrow, Thomas." 

Tommy watched as you faded into the darkness, just as secretively as you had arrived. 

The following morning you woke to an insistent knocking at your front door, it woke you up with a start (memories flooding back of the early mornings at the convent). You approached the door cautiously, holding a knife out in front of you.

"Who's there?" you called out.

"It's your landlady," the slightly familiar voice called. "I'm sorry miss, there's a woman here insistent on seeing you." It felt like the blood had drained from your face at the possibility of it being someone from Dublin.

"W-what does she want? What does it entail?" your voice was panicked and stuttering.

"Have I done wrong, miss? She said you would know her, a Theresa O'Sullivan." The landlady's words echoed in your mind and your eyes began to water, you put down the knife and unlocked the door.

"I'm sorry," You told her. "I was anxious about who the visitor was but you can send her up." You smiled at her and she nodded.

The following knock at your door was timid, so as to not disturb but alert you of their presence. You almost jumped up as your eyes began to water before flinging open the door and enveloping her in a hug.

"Theresa!" you laughed as she held you close.

"It's been so long my dear friend," She said close to your ear.

"How have you been? How's life out of the community, whereabouts are you these days?" You asked as you sat down with her and a pot of tea.

"I'm in the south at the moment, I'm married now and we run a church community now," she paused. "I heard noises. The community is small but we have connections in Ireland so... there are little bubbles of noise every now and then." she paused in a seemingly uncomfortable way.

"I mean, I can assume what they said but what did you hear?" You asked timidly.

"That there was a murder," she paused and looked down at her hands which began to shake. "And... and that there were things that were stolen I'm not sure what. But then I heard whispers about you and I knew I had to find you."

"And you think it's me?" you asked.

"I know you had ideas, I haven't told anyone if you're worried about that I just needed to know you were safe." She reached out and touched your hands. "Y/n, are you safe."

"As safe as you can be after you've done what I have. Tell me about everything, please. Take my mind off it." you squeezed her hands with a smile.

"I have a husband, I met him about three years after leaving Ireland and we've been blessed with three children so far. It's a quiet village with a town hall and a church, not much else, I can see you've taken well to a busy city though." She smiled and you nodded.

"I needed a change, anyway I could so I found a job first and this was the easiest one with the least questions involved. I'm so glad you're safe, I never heard from you and I was so worried." You reached forward and touched her face "But you're here and you're alive."

"We both made it out, remember that. We're both safer now. Don't look back, don't look away just move forward and escape as far as you can." Her eyes began to water. "Because if they come for you, you're dead and no one can protect you or save you from them."

"What do you mean?" your heartbeat began picking up.

"They came for me when I was in Liverpool, I had no one and nothing. No one helped me because I didn't know who to trust but then I revealed too much at confession and they came for me." she paused, her breath faltering and hitching.

"Theresa, what happened?" You said sternly gripping her hand.

"They did this," She pulled up her dress and showed a deep scar on her right leg then pulled up her shirt and showed a long scar from the top of her ribcage diagonally down towards her navel. It was dark and twisted near the bottom.

"Who?" Your hands began to shake as Theresa pulled down her shirt.

"Father Thomas' messengers, they assumed I'd escaped revealing their secrets but I just wanted to escape so they tortured me before I escaped once more," She smiled. "I'm glad you killed the bastard when you had the chance."

"What they did to you... should I be running further?" you asked, feeling your throat tighten.

"There's nowhere you can run that's far enough to outrun them. We are some of the only survivors of their horrific system and I hope you tear it all down." She reached over and hugged you tighter than before.

"We are united, you and I. In sickness and in health like a fucking marriage alright. I will make sure everyone knows what we witnessed and they won't escape it. None of them." You held her by the shoulders and smiled through your tears.

"Say a prayer with me, for strength." Theresa smiled at you and you both began in silent prayer to save each other from your past and your enemies.

next part Peaky blinders taglist: @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

[aerascreamer]

“In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight…”

Art a commencé, voici Nana, OC de @ghostie-doodles !

[ranbowkng]

Forgive Me Father for Thine Lips are the Sweetest Sin

Summary: Gary shows up on John's porch and expects to initiate him. Instead he initiates a spark between them

John Ward sighed, his bedroom eyes wearily glancing at the smirking cultist before him. He thought it was over. He sealed the crucible, if only temporarily, and had left with Lisa and Garcia, allowing them both a safer place to reside than their apartments. So why was the demon back? And why had it been so confident as to walk up to his front door and knock as if he wouldn't try to send it back to hell? He was pretty sure it was looking at him the way it would a snack.

"What do you want?" John leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms as he looked up at the cultist.

"Glad to hear your enthusiasm," Gary said, a chuckle laced in his tone, "Because I need you."

"...what?" John raised an eyebrow. Holding a carton of cigarettes in his hands.

"I've realized my mistake! It's all so simple! I've been trying to go about this as if we are different, but you and I, we're exactly the same!" Gary waved his hand in a hundred different directions, adjusting his sunglasses frequently, "What do you say? You and me in a new world order?" He shimmied his shoulders a few times as he spoke. John wondered if this is what all those kids were referring to when they referred to something as "radical." He still didn't understand the appeal.

"Hmm, what a difficult choice," John spoke sarcastically as he placed a cigarette between his lips, "I'll certainly have to uh...think..." He patted down his pockets, searching for a light.

"Allow me," Gary said, snapping his fingers to light the end sticking out of John's mouth.

"Oh... thanks," John inhaled deeply, letting the smoke escape his lungs before holding the cigarette between two fingers to continue talking, "Not happening. In case you haven't noticed, your cult is gone, we defeated you."

"Not necessarily," Gary hummed, "At best you've momentarily inconvenienced us, but you've hardly come close to defeating us. After all..." He gripped John by the shirt, pulling him close to whisper in his ear, "We still have the girl~"

John's breath hitched as he dropped the cigarette on the ground. Gary stomped it out with the heel of his boot, grazing over John's toes in the process, "What have you done with Amy?"

"It's hardly Amy you should be worried about dear preacher," Gary hummed, using his grip on his shirt to spin him around, pulling him to the walkway to his house, "I'd be more concerned about them if I were you."

John looked up, horrified at the sight. Two cultists, covered head to toe in crimson robes, sat atop the neighbor's houses, pointing guns at two windows in his house. One towards the window of his bedroom where Garcia had laid down for a nap, and one towards the kitchen where Lisa had been preparing herself lunch. John looked to the cult leader before him, fury scrunching his face into a threatening glare, "Call them off, now!"

"Calm yourself priest, I shall," Gary held up a palm, a signal to the cultist to hold their fire temporarily, "If you agree to my terms."

"What terms?" John raised an eyebrow, clutching his crucifix.

"You drop that silly stick and join me as my right hand man, and I spare the girl," Gary said, "Join me as a lover and I spare them both."

John's face flushed, how did he know?! See, from the moment John laid eyes on the cultist, he felt a spark. Previously he was able to push off these feelings merely by being thoroughly annoyed by the prospect of them. As time went on, he had to make more excuses why the feelings weren't real. Excuses like "he's evil" "he's dead" "he hates your guts and wants to use them as Christmas tree decorations" "he's probably a man" but now here he is, bringing them up to use against John.

"I am not joining you, lover or otherwise!" John yelled.

"That's quite a shame," Gary sighed, lifting his arm, "Take aim, and-"

"Wait!" John grabbed Gary's arm, stopping him before he could give the command to fire, "I'll...I'll join you..."

"Excellent!" Gary motioned for the cultist pointing a gun at Lisa to stand down, "I suppose minimizing the casualties to one would be efficient. Take aim-"

"I'll be your lover!" John shouted, stopping the cultist.

Gary smirked, lowering his arm, "Mind repeating that for me?"

"I-" John couldn't believe what he was agreeing to, but if it saved Garcia's life, so be it, "I...will join you...as a lover...if you accept my terms!"

Gary rolled his eyes, "I hardly believe you're in a position to make demands here."

"It's one demand, and if you refuse then I will exorcise you," John lifted his crucifix, pointing it at Gary who raised his arms in surrender, "Are you willing to listen now?"

"Oh I'm so scared-" Gary was silenced by the sudden sizzling of his skin as John rested the tip of his crucifix against his wrist, "Ow! Okay! Okay! I'm listening!"

"One kiss," John's expression was cold and unmoving as he spoke, "I want one kiss before we agree to anything. If we both enjoy it, I'll go off with you. If you enjoy it and I don't or vice versa, oh well. If neither of us enjoy it, don't waste my time by putting my friends lives in danger ever again or I will exorcise you twice."

"Feisty" Gary smirked, signalling for the other cultist to stand down, "Fair enough, and to liven this up a tad, I'll let you be the one to engage the kiss."

"Fine!" John huffed in annoyance.

"Indeed," Gary was far too full of himself for someone who was cowering under what he believed to be a "pathetic stick" two seconds ago.

John inched closer, more annoyed by the closeness with each movement he made. One part of John wanted to rip off the cultist's face, the other part of him wanted to rip off something else. Regardless, he stood an inch away from Gary, looking into the eyes hiding behind the shades.

John reached up and in one swift motion pulled Gary's lips onto his. His vengeance for all the cultist had put him through, he ravished the taste without room to breathe, and bit his lip harshly as he pulled away. The worst part of it all, he enjoyed it.

Gary's face was red as his robes as he was released, blinking twice as he tried to catch up with what just happened to him, "...priest."

"Didn't enjoy it much did you?" John waved him off, hiding his own blush by turning to the side, "Run along, don't waste my time again."

"...I apologize," Gary didn't even give John a second to process the words before he pushed him through the door frame with his lips on John's, kicking it closed behind him.

Both staggered backwards, refusing to pull away from the other until John couldn't breathe. When they finally pried themselves away from each other, they had landed on John's sofa with Gary sitting on top of John.

"Priest..." Gary's voice was soft, unable to conjure more than a whisper.

"Cultist," John said back, trying not to mirror the cocky smirk, "Enjoyed the taste of my lips more than a little did we?"

"I... didn't think asking you to be my lover would go so deep...I thought it would be a business exchange. I didn't know it could taste so...good," Gary said, "Forgive me, my accomplice."

"Hmm," John failed to not conjure a smirk, "You can earn forgiveness by-"

"Gross," Lisa's voice caused him to shut up, "Get a room."

"Ms. Pearson!" Gary said, frozen in John's lap.

"This isn't what it looks like!" John said quickly.

"I don't care," Lisa said, walking away, "I'm going out with Tiffany tonight. Please try not to do anything stupid." With that, she walked into the bathroom, which John could no longer navigate due to the excessive amounts of makeup products that littered the sink.

John and Gary turned back to each other, both of their faces dusted pink.

"We had a deal," Gary said, "You are now a part of my Order."

"And you are now mine," John said with a blank stare, "An even exchange."

Gary was a bit startled by the sentiment, his blush growing ever further, but he quickly buried his head into the priest's shoulder, "John..."

"Gary," John said.

"Perhaps, I don't mind if we're romantic without a trade to justify it, even though you now most definitely are now a member of my Order," Gary's voice was muffled in John's shirt, but John heard every word very clearly.

"Mm, you want to kiss me again don't you?" John asked, patting the cultist's shoulder.

"... perhaps," Gary responded.

"Go for it," John said. And he did, melting into the sinfully good taste of John's lips.

And it wouldn't be the last time he did.

[weatherman667]

Jessica Cruz:

In brightest day and blackest night

no evil shall escape my sight.

For tall those who falter at penis’s might,

beware my power, Green Lantern’s Light!

Yang:

In blackest day and brightest night,

beware your fears made into light.

Let those who try to stop what’s tight,

burn like my power, Xiao Long’s might!

Weiss:  I am curious where she got such a...form... fitting outfit.

Ruby:  It’s not like Jessica is wearing anything more.

Weiss:  Yes, well, Yang’s body is a good deal more scandalous.

Blake:  You’re not worried that she made a pledge to Jaune’s penis?

Weiss:  Pardon, she WHAT?!

Nora:  Using her Semblance to glow is a nice touch.

Ren:  It shows how much control she has learned.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Breaking Bonds Ch. 6

Synopsis: Rabban and you have a long-due honeymoon on Lankiveil.

Warnings: Masturbation, unprotected sex A/N: I'm not good at writing smut but enjoy this lil' treat either way! 💌

"No man chooses evil for the sake of evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks."

- Mary Wollstonecraft

[Previous Chapter]

There was no going back now - you've long since passed the point of no return. And still, no matter how much time passed, you couldn't shake this nagging conscience off...

...after all, you had selfishly become enamored with a man that had - and still causes - so much misery in the entire Empire and especially your home planet.

To be fair, while the Baron alone decided about the tax height, your husband has at least greatly lifted the burden on his colonies lately, concentrating on gathering ressources instead of harassing the populace. His men were advised to tone it down, and shall a village not be able to provide the demanded amount, they'll have two more chances before there'll be consequences.

That was his way of expressing what he could otherwise never put into words.

Rabban was snoring softly besides your insomniac self, shuffling close enough to wrap his arms around you. He pressed your body against his chest from behind, a content sigh escaping his throat at the feeling of your skin against his.

"Good morning, my Countess" he purrs, nose nuzzling against your neck before tracing kisses across your collarbone. You return the favour, nails tenderly raking across his scalp. "Good morning, my Count."

Your husband's touch soon becomes more eager, groaning shamelessly as his hands wander upwards to massage your breasts, who betray you and stiffen under the touch. "Glossu, you're insatiable."

"To my defense, I've waited more than long enough" he teases, nibbling on your earlobe. His hand rested under your navel just for a brief moment before wanderin downwards. "And besides, we still have an obligation to fulfill."

Your laughter soon turned into pleased moans as well, music in your husband's ears as he slid under the covers, head settling between your spread legs with an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

"Let me wake you up properly, dear."

This whole situation still felt like a bizarre daydream - one your past self would refuse to believe to ever become reality.

A short while back you loathed this wicked man with a passion, were nothing but repulsed and petrified whenever he was near you - but right now you were yearning for his touch at every opportunity.

After that first fateful night spent together marked the beginning of something more intimate, it was also new terrain for both of you.

While you expected a cruel joke, revealing itself just when he'd gain your trust, your husband feared his feelings being used to control him for your own benefit.

Needless to say, neither of it occured.

Maybe you had completely lost your mind, but at this point you couldn't care less - at least that was what you told yourself on this important day.

Since Harkonnen troops had now completely retreated from Arrakis, until your husband would be called to battle he decided to grant you this heartfelt wish of reuniting with your family.

The image of your planet in space was a sight to behold, never ceasing to amaze you. An ice world where seasons would last for years instead of months, known among the galaxy for it's precious whale fur.

From afar, it looked almost as sacred as your father had always described it in his tales.

He was a man of unbreakable faith - at least until the death of your eldest brother on the frontlines of the resistance. Your whole family stopped practicing the religion entirely since then, except for occasional prayers in time of distraught.

After his loss, your father said that god has left this planet the moment House Harkonnen set foot on it.

Whereas you still miss him painfully, the grief strickening to this day, you were also relieved that he did not have to see you like this - his beloved daughter, giving her heart and body up to the enemy.

"Welcome home" Rabban declared as you prepared for the spaceship to land, already preparing to descend towards the planet's surface.

You seemed both aloof and apprehensive at once, so it wasn't long until Rabban offered you his hand as means to placate. "It'll be fine."

Will it be, though?

Since birth you had been among them, attended this farce of a welcome committee alongsides the other natives. It was not a voluntary decision, presence was mandatory.

You remember very well how much you wished to have the courage and throw a rock at your oppressor - but knew what deadly consequences it'd bring for you and everyone else.

Yet right now you were on the other side of the coin, and taking a good look down on yourself - skin bleached through the lack of sunlight and dressed matching to your spouse - you wondered if they'd even differ, or simply see you with the same burning hatred that you felt back then.

"Now arriving: Your beloved rulers, Count and Countess Rabban!"

Eventually you felt nauseous as the shuttle opened and you were greeted with exagerrated fake applause from the capitol, retracting your intertwined hands before anyone could see.

With the planet being currently in spring, bright sunlight hit your face, eyes needing some time to adapt after the eternity you had spent on Giedi Prime.

The Beast looked at you with a mixture of worry and irritation, brushing his fingers over your back yet again you winced away. The current situation made it impossible to bid it any more concern, but your behavior left a bitter aftertaste.

Of course he understood. While in private you could act like lovestruck fools all you want, however it was dangerous to do so in front of witnesses.

Ironic, considering you're officially a married couple.

For that very same reason he was also unable to go too easy on your - otherwise the other Harkonnen's were to notice, and such weakness would not remain unpunished.

However this tiny act of affection might also be interpretated as courtesy among two weds...

...so why did you insist to tear yourself away from him?

As the two of you strutted through the tremulous crowd, accompanied by his best soldiers, he reminisced back to easier times.

Rabban vaguely remembered that at every arrival of his you stood out ouf the crowd - at least to his eye - even long before your ways would actually cross.

Oh, how drunk he got on your fear back then, excited by the defiance he detected in your eyes nonetheless. It was as if your emotions were written right on your forehead and damn, what a feisty little quim, weren't you?

He secretly prayed that one day you'd put those thoughts into practice, commit something so imprudent that he'd have an excuse to drag you into his chambers despite your status. Implementing his own means of punishment, without ever allowing you to escape....

...in hindsight, this might've been a precursor of this strange infatuation after all. Better keep this to himself though - even he knows this isn't exactly considered romantic.

In the midst of the formation your family awaited you - or rather what's left of it. Scatters of a once great bloodline.

Rabban looks over to you, only a silken dress cascading down your body in the shivering breeze. The cold did not seem to bother you at all, in fact the soft glow bestowed you an even more divine beauty.

The serenity you were radiating was slowly crumbling however, as you came to a halt far away from your kneeling loved ones. Seeing them like this felt horribly wrong, a perfect symbolfor the harsh reality of this marriage which you desperately tried to shove back into your head.

You were hesitating, eyes darting helplessly between your husband and relatives. "What are you waiting for?" Rabban speaks in this low, authorative voice of his. "You may leave."

His approval was enough for you to drop the composure together with your remaining dignity, running towards them as you broke out into irrepressible sobbing.

A sinister look decorated Rabban's face as you collapsed into your mother's arms, a dangerous mixture of jealousy and obsession stirring in his mind. He tries to ignore it, internally fights to contain himself for your sake.

You are the stunning image of your mother, he thinks, trying to distract himself with trivial annotations. The children however - your younger siblings, as it seems - he doesn't warm up to that easily. Not really his area in general, but he'll figure out once he has brats of his own. Better not think about it too much, the pending responsibility leaves him with an odd unease.

A girl around five years of age he overhears asking why you were accompanying the 'behemoth', timidly peeking over your shoulder as you had lifted her up. "You know, I can understand every word" he retorts flatly and in perfect Lankiveili. It catched you by surprise, since the Harkonnens on your planet kept mostly to themselves. Of course, as a leader it made perfect sense to at least know the common global language.

Sometimes you forgot that your husband was in fact a sophisticated man, just wildly - intentionally - underestemated.

"Leave my sisters alone!" your younger brother, barely eleven years old, leaped in front of you, a shakily pointing a wooden toy sword at the Beast.

"I thought we got rid of all the males in the Årud bloodline..." Rabban spoke in sadistic amusement, crossing his arms as he assessed the boy. Well, your mother was pregnant back at the time and the Count was not really paying attention the following years. But you wouldn't deliberately make things worse by pointing out his disinterest for politics, knowing he already felt inadequate.

"Please, dear husband" you try to appease him, hands clasping together in a begging manner. "He's just a child. No one's questioning your rule. It's not worth it."

"When I was his age, I already partook in huntings" the Beast harrumphed, face contorting into an almost-snarl. "Killed my grandfather a few years after." He reached out for your brother, who was rooted on spot, cowering in fear...

...and just when you were about to intervene, he put his hand on the boy's head, slightly ruffling his hair. "You have a brave heart. Become a good warrior and make your family proud."

Rabban then turned to you, looking at him absolutely flabbergasted. "Just leave" he spat, waving his men over. "Got important business to take care of. You'd be no help either way."

You crack a smile, tiptoeing to peck a quick kiss on his cheek before turning around, this unexpected public affection left this mountain of a man - and frankly everyone around you - completely baffled.

"What are you looking at, you dogs?!" he shouted at his squad and their chatters ebbed out with his command. "Get. To. Work! Anyone I consider useless, I'll kill on sight."

It wasn't until Rabban and his men were actually gone to run errands for his uncle that your folk was able to breathe freely again, now truly cheering and celebrating your arrival.

You were almost considered a national hero, your marriage being considered the most noble sacrifice, ensuring the prosperity of Lankiveil.

No one dared interacting with you more than necessary, though. It was simply not worth the risk of earning the wrath of the infamous Beast.

"This detestable waste of a mother's love! Threatening a child like that. Did you see how scared your brother was?!"

"Lower your voice" you interrupted your own mother, who felt comfortable enough to verbally lash out at the Beast now that you were in your own four walls. "My husband has eyes and ears everywhere. Just- just be glad he didn't actually do anything."

"Don't tell me what to do, young lady" she scolded you harshly. "You may be our Countess now, but you must never forget-" The words die in her throat, her soft caress of your cheek having pulled your hair far enough back over our shoulder to reveal the choke mark on your neck.

A mere lovebite of some sort - he had a bruising grip, and holding back was never his forte. This is nothing compared to what he's normally capable of, but a sadist remains a sadist.

You want to back away, but your mother got a hold of your wrist, pulling up one of the sleeves only to find more bruises scattered across your arm.

During the act you rarely ever notice - in fact it was rather enjoyable - but how should you tell your mother that the most hated person on this forsaken planet kissed those minor injuries afterwards, mumbling sweet affirmations as his hands draw circles on the sore skin?

She seemed desolate, on the verge of tears and yet may have realized at this moment to better not speak against a man that was capable of practically anything.

"Mother" you assure her, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled between you licke a thick haze. "You needn't worry, I promise."

"...if we had been informed of your visit, we would've prepared festives" she croakes as she changes the topic, needs to do so in order to keep her grace. "We'll make up something right away."

Guilt was eating her alive and you knew it - the day when the Baron proposed this alliance, she had to pick between loss and loss.

As a leader, she absolutely chose correctly.

As a mother? Not so much.

All logic asides, it pained you to be reminded that she put the fate of strangers over your own. If your father was still alive, he would've rather let this planet fall into chaos than willingly lose another one of his children to the Harkonnens - if only metaphorically.

To a certain extend you sympathized with Rabban's rage- the feelings of a child abandoned by their own mother.

But then again, what's one ruined life compared to so many others, an entire civilization even?

...and do you truly consider your life to be ruined?

"Sure..." You swallow harshly, try to suppress your emotions to enjoy the scarce time you had with your loved ones. "That sounds wonderful."

Meanwhile Rabban was in the greatest hall of his mansion, slumped on the throne of your ancient monarchs - which he stole it for his private collection long ago.

He tries soothing himself through meaningless pastimes, yet materialistic luxury and fleeting pleasures did not hold the appeal they once had...

...they could not substitute your presence, at last - and without it his thoughts spiraled back to the only coping mechanism he knew: Violence, or worse.

This cannot be love, the feeling he had heard so much about yet never experienced in all his decades of life.

Why would anyone want to feel this way, being so desperate for someone else?

Sadly the attempt to drown his violent urges in expensive beverage only intensified his intrusive thoughts, dampening the little self-control he still possessed. Luckily sober him had all servants informed that he was under no context to be disturbed - otherwise not all of them would make it to sunrise alive.

Wait a second...why did he even fucking care what you'd think of him?

This was his planet, his servants, his everything! And you were his wife! Your whole purpose was to endure and obey each and every of your husband's whims, no matter how depraved!

Shit, this is the exact reason you'll always shy away from him in the end. He just can't get out if his skin - and right now it was itching for blood...

...all just because you were currently not at his side, enjoying yourself with people that were what he could never be for you.

He loathed this godamn ice block of a planet, it's people and rites and especially the fact that he could never replace or even imitate the home your heart has on here.

Now that he saw how you acted with people that you truly loved, it was all obvious to him: You had merely arranged yourself with the circumstances - but would never willingly choose him.

Rabban's frustration wandered right down to his pants, sent an even more pulsing desire straight to his cock as he remembered the ethereal way you walked besides him in that delicate sin of a dress.

Fuck, it's been an eternity singe he's done the work himself - after all, he he had countless women to pick from to tend to this need...

...but he knew damn well that unless it's you, he'd only be left unsatisfied and eventually kill them.

Your husband spread his legs on the throne, pulling back one leathern glove with his teeth while the other squeezed the hardened member swelling beneath his belt.

Growling moans he had bit back until now fell casually from his lips as he pulled his dick from it's confines, gripping the angry shaft fiercely. Swiping across the slid already leaking precum, he intended to make a quick end of it.

His eyes fell shut, head rolling back as he tried dwelling in pleasant memories of your naked form beneath him, the way you moaned his name like a sacred prayer each time you came undone.

"Shit, Y/N..." he rambled out, grunts and groans mixing with incoherent Harkonnen swear words as he eagerly stroked himself.

"Yes, my Count?"

The sudden appearance of your voice made his blood run cold, eyes snapping open only to catch your silhouette in the doorframe, calmly watching the scene unfolding before you.

His face instanty dropped into stern hostility, peering at you like he was considering murder as nerest solution to escape this humiliation.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he barks, not yet bothering to cover himself as to not admit his embarassment. "Enjoying the view, I guess."

"Bitch" he thought, contemplating to shove his cock down your throat just to make you shut up. Albeit you strode towards him keenly, a smug smile playing on your lips when his manhood twitches at your approach.

"You seem stressed, my love..." you chant oh so alluring in his ear as you lean over him, the nickname pulling at his heartstrings. "I can change that."

There was something so fundamentally wrong with doing it right here, giving yourself to an oppressor right on the throne of your people...

...maybe Rabban had already corrupted you, because that fact was exactly why it aroused you enough to discard all morality in exchange for temporary carnal pleasure.

All you knew was that right now you were in charge - and the very man that had done so much wrong was literally wax in your hands.

Irony of fate, one would say.

Your fingers teasingly ghost across his shaft and Rabban lets out a noise of both disapproval and desperation, hips bucking against your palm to find some release. "I missed you" you speak, invitingly batting your lashes.

"Stop lying" this utter wretch spat weak, tentatively, the lust in your scent feeling like being stabbed. You smile down on him in return, unimpressed by his vocal attempts to push you away.

His defense falters as you straddle his waist, kissing him with an affection like he was something precious and not in fact the most despicable person you've ever met. "I'm not lying, Glossu."

He wants to say something, anything, but his throat closes, a torn-out sob being all he manages to wring out.

Primal need takes the wheel again when you push your panties aside, folds sliding across his member in preparation and god you were so wet already, just for him.

Both of you sighed in relishment as you lowered yourself on his cock, meekly clawing into his shoulder as you adjusted to his size. Meanwhile Rabban's hands busied themselves on your ass, back, thighs, every damn inch of skin he can get while his hips chase yours.

The Beast kisses your pulse point as he pulls you impossibly close, face hidden in the crook of your neck so you won't see how he falls apart right in front of you. Yet your name keeps erupting from his lips as you ride him, not yet a plea but certainly endearing.

He holds you in an almost bonecrushing hug as you ride him, your tits spilling so scrumptiously out of your cleavage that he can't help but sink his teeth into the thin fabric, earning an ecstatic yelp in return. Soon his tongue dives into your mouth in exasperation, only ever breaking the kiss when the lack of oxygen became too hard to bear.

As the pace speeds up your husband finally brings himself to watch you grind on his crotch, the view enough to drive him over the edge. Both awe and passion wash over him in the tidal wave that was his orgasm, so much pulsing inside of you it borders on obscene.

Even long after overstimulation followed his peak, he couldn't stop the jackknife-like thrusts into your sensitive cunt as your high chased right after his.

Who wouldve thought that sex filled with laughter instead of cries could be this...enjoyable?

An odd tranquility sets above the two of you, remaining in the position for a while before either of you dared to move.

"Convinced now?" you ask between short, ragged breaths, heart fluttering while his practically beat like a drum.

"Dunno" he hums playfully, sweaty foreheads stuck together as he mirrowed your smile. "We might have to repeat this a few times, just to be sure."

Both of you broke our in boisterous laughter and you nudge his side, chuckling some sweet nonsense about him being insufferable.

"SERVANT" You almost fell down from the seat by surprise, and Rabban yelled for no one in particular once again. Panicking, you wanted to pop off his softening member and hide - yet your husband had other plans, still holding you tight.

"Nah -ah -ah" he gurred with a shiteating grin on his face as he felt his pride returning. "We don't want you to waste a single drop of my precious seed, don't we?"

Asshole. He really was incorrigible at times...

Gladly your dress had fallen down to your hips, far enough to cover your priavtes yet not enough to hide the peculiar embrace the two of you still shared.

"A partnership is no fight for dominance, you know?" you whisper as a maidservant entered - an elderly Lankiveilan woman looking down in unease. You wanted to be swallowed by the earth right then, being seen defiled by the enemy in front of one of your own people.

Oh, you just knew he was enjoying showing off what was rightfully his, didn't he?

"Just playful banter" he promised, hands still lazily roaming your body. "Run us a bath" he orders, "Then get lost. And leave some new attire at the door."

The servant nods and commits her work in silence, shooting you one last, pitying look before she disappeared as fast as she came. Rabban insisted on carrying you to the magnificent bathroom, sinking into the relaxing scented water and pulling you to his chest once again as he began to ponder.

For once he got what he wanted without taking it by force - you returned to him out of your own free will...

...and what an amazing feeling that was.

By Harkonnen logic, he should be terrified of the effect you have on him, put a stop to it immediately - all of what happened was considered pathetic weakness in his culture, nothing more than a flaw.

But damn it, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

"What are you brooding about?" you ask, fingertips tracing the several scars on his chest. "Why are you really here? Surely you did not just come for...this."

You snort in amusement, joking "I thought I'd look after my husband, before he gets bored and blows something up."

The Beast grinned at your words, allowing himself some sort of vulnerability as he seeks your reassurance. "I thought you'd seek the comfort of your old home."

His words made you furrow your brows in confusion, almost offended by his assumption. "This is my home now" you answer firmly, pressing a wet kiss to his knuckles. "You are."

The answer pleases him as it seems, pulling you in for another kiss, limbs tangled with each other in an inescapable embrace.

"Perhaps you want to accompany me tonight?" Your husband had helped you out of the now cold water, having stayed there until your discomfort became greater than the joy of closeness. "The people of the capitol will hold a small festival."

Rabban seemed bewildered, insulted even at the suggestion. "Why should I bother with those savages? This is beneath me." You roll your eyes at the man, not wanting to hear that belittlement for your culture coming from people who hunt others for sports.

Quickly towel-drying your hair before slipping into traditional clothes rather than the one he had picked out for you, he swallows the frustration of this separation through your different styles.

"Maybe because your wife is one of those 'savages', and so are you. You're half Lankiveili, hell, you even carry one of our names!" you correct him, pointing an index finger directly at his face just for him to gently slap it away. "You've been born and raised here, not on Giedi Prime."

"So?" he retorts matter-of-factly, glaring at you. "A dog born in a stable still doesn't nicker." You almost facepalmed, unnerved by his blatant stubbornness. "But you can't deny your blood. Your mother-"

"Was a Bene Gesserit, first and foremost." Rabban interrupted you, tired with the discussion already though he elaborates. "Their children are nothing more to them than means to an end."

There was a subtle hint of disappointment in his voice, one you could very well resonate with. "But- I mean, you weren't useful to her, right? Hence the younger brother."

Wow. That sounded way less insulting in your head - and you were sure had anyone else but you pointed this out, they'd been six foot under already.

"Thanks for the reminder that I'm inferior to my brother in every way" he gritted, not seeing the point of this useless conversation. You looked at him sympathically, cupping his face with both hands but he turned away in anger. "N-No, I didn't mean it like that. I-"

Well, things can't get any worse than this. Might as well speak your mind. "Bene Gesserit are ordered to kill genetically undesirable children immediately after birth..."

You see him clench and unclench his fists, but take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. "...and yet you're here. What do you think that means? She loved you dearly, I'm sure of it."

He twirls you into his arms, effectively shutting you up with a breathtaking kiss. Your lips searched his again as soon as he pulled away, yet he already went for the door.

"Alright alright, I'm feeling generous today. We'll go. Just don't complain if I ruin the mood."

That very same evening, your husband participated in the festival with you - well, more or less. He mainly remained on the sidelines, following you like a shadow and eyes shooting daggers at everyone looking at you for too long.

His soldiers he had warded off to another place, so they'd leave your people alone for tonight - and als that there wouldn't be any witnesses to his tameness.

This whole parade reminded him of a rather unpleasant part of his childhood, what it means to be born in between two worlds and fully belonging to neither.

Many years ago his mother, Emmi Rabban, had dragged him to such an event in an attempt to make her son embrace his heritage.

People would look at him with revulsion and hostility - a natural reaction, considering his Harkonen outerior, even though he was a mere child back then. He used to tell himself the mantra that being feared something to be proud of, more reliable than some feeble goodwill.

Ultimatively, when one of the other children started throwing rocks at young Rabban, he saw red...

...and like so often, only when his anger subsided and he returned to his senses, the adults were able to pull him away from the bloody heap he had beaten the other into.

It was not the first time his mother had looked at him that way: Shame, disappointment, fear of her child and what he was capable of. Regret of having kept him alive, if your theory was true.

This core memory only strenghtened his taunting disconnection and self-loathing.

After that day, Rabban's mother had stopped bringing him anywhere public at all. Kept him trapped at home as often as possible, like a feral animal restrained by a cage.

And yet here he was again, watching you enjoy yourself as you sang and danced in the streets, never breaking eye-contact and gifting him the sweetest of smiles. Whenever you returned to his side, you clung to his arm and babbled about whatever, not minding what your precious subjects or even your own family might think of you...

...kissing him so openly, so deeply, as if you were proud to be his wife, despite everything.

Maybe this planet wasn't that bad, all things considered.

"You know, you could stay here. Until I secured Arrakis for your arrival, I mean" he promised solemny later that night, as you warmed each other under the sheets. "And I'll take you to Lankiveil as often as I can."

Rabban's offer made you stirr in your almost-slumber, witnessing his pale face glow more lively under the chimney's embers. "Why would you do that for me?"

The question caught him off guard, fumbling with his words. "Don't mock me, woman. This is the first time I felt something like this. Its...difficult for me, to say the least."

"Well, I'm grateful for the offer" you mumble sleepily, guiding his hands to rest on your hip. "But my place is at my husband's side."

After this long and eventful day it was no wonder you couldn't stay up for much longer, the security your husband's hug provided guiding you into a sweet slumber.

Rabban lets out a shaky breath, unable to fathom how he deserved feeling such bliss. He covers you with the blanket, waits until your breathing pattern indicates you're fast asleep until he dares speaking his mind.

"I love you, Y/N" he whispers, feeling a profound sense of happiness encase him after confessing this - mostly to himself.

[Next Chapter]

[knightposting]

Top 5 knightly/paladin oaths sworn by a character?

This will be in no particular order. I'm bad at making choices.

The Grey Warden's oath in Dragon Age.

"In peace, vigilance; in war, victory; in death, sacrifice."

I disagree with a lot of choices in Dragon Age, this oath is not one of them. Simple, evocative, and grim.

2. The Oath of Vengeance from 5e

"Fight the Greater Evil. Faced with a choice of fighting my sworn foes or combating a lesser evil, I choose the greater evil.

No Mercy for the Wicked. Ordinary foes might win my mercy, but my sworn enemies do not.

By Any Means Necessary. My qualms can't get in the way of exterminating my foes.

Restitution. If my foes wreak ruin on the world, it is because I failed to stop them. I must help those harmed by their misdeeds."

I was originally gonna include oath of the watchers instead, but Vengeance feels more ubiquitous. Watchers is good, but shines better in very specific campaigns. Vengeance can be taken anywhere, and it can be a deeply personal oath against a specific foe, or a grim promise to endlessly oppose the very concept of something you hate. (If I ever play Baroret again, I'm changing him from ancients to vengeance.)

3. The Green Lantern Oath

"In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil’s might, beware my power, Green Lantern’s light."

It'd just feel wrong not to include this one.

4. bending the rules a bit to include the Assassin's Creed, since they aren't really knights or paladins/paladin-adjacent.

""Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember: Nothing is true. Where other men are limited by morality or law, remember: Everything is permitted. We work in the dark to serve the light. We are assassins. Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.""

I mostly like this one because of how other characters come to understand it, especially Edward Kenway, who if I recall correctly, says that it's the beginning of wisdom, not the end.

5. While I have yet to read the stormlight archive, I am partial to the Immortal Words Of The Knights Radiant, one of which being:

"Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination"

[howlingday]

A GL can do anything they can conceive of and have sufficient willpower to enact. Interdimensional travel is something that Hal Jordan has done before, but it's not something he does often as it is a struggle. So how long after the RWBY x Justice League crossover do you think it will take before Jessica opens a portal so she can visit her knight?

"Okay, here goes."

Jessica closed her eyes and focused her mind on a singular figure, a singular point within space and time. Her heart swelled as her throat tightened. She felt like she was going to explode and crumple at the same time!

She placed a hand on her forearm as she felt her power build within her.

"In brightest day, in blackest night,"

Her body warmed itself until it felt like an inferno at her fingers.

"No evil shall escape my sight,"

Shining blue eyes smiled at her, temporarily breaking her focus, but she doubled down.

"Those who worship evil's might, beware my power!"

Her eyes shot open as she reeled her fist back and punched forward!

"GREEN LANTERN'S LIGHT!"

A green portal swirled open before her. Sweat beaded on her brow as she panted. This was her first time using her ring for something on this scale. She huffed as she looked to her ring. She could feel most of it's power was drained, but she came prepared. Her lantern hung on her belt, fully charged and ready to recharge her ring.

The portal shook, but held. Inside, she saw it; Remnant was on the other side. In the distance, she saw someone running across a sunlit field. Behind them was one of those terrible, black monsters known as the Grimm. She didn't hesitate, even as the portal shut behind her.

The Grimm ran on all fours like something out of a nightmare, but it wouldn't be the first time she fought one of them. Focusing her ring, she charged forward with the train's cowcatcher in front of her. The creature was hit and rolled some distance away.

Jessica blinked and she suddenly felt heavy. She could feel her ring's power fading. The portal must have taken more out of her than she thought. She looked up to find fiery red eyes glaring at her, getting closer. She tried to muster enough strength for a barrier, but she couldn't.

As it drew closer, Jessica felt something in her heart. It's imposing size towered over her, and she recognized the feeling. It was fear. And it was terrifying. She shut her eyes as it snarled and lunged at her.

"Are you oka- Jessica?"

Her heart fluttered, shifting from fear to joy as she looked up to see those beautiful blue eyes once more.

"Jaune!" She smiled. Reaching up, she took his hand, feeling him pull her up with modest strength.

"What are you doing here?" Jaune asked. There was a bit of stubble growing on his chin. How much time had passed?

"I... I came to see you." Jussica blushed, earning a blush from the knight as well. White armor had expanded since she last saw him, reaching down his chest and covering his thighs. "Sorry I didn't call ahead."

"Uh, yeah, it's fine." He looked her up and down. "Did you get taller?"

"You could say that." She giggled. Years had passed since their farewell. Along with her growth in height, she'd also grown a bit elsewhere, too. This was his first time seeing her with longer hair. "I... I missed you."

He smiled. "I missed you, too."

[pnk-berri]

Ensnared - Eros Vasilios

by any means necessary, he shall claim you as his own

Content Warning: The following text contains explicit and violent content. Reader discretion is advised.

—

The grand ball at the Imperial Palace was a sight to behold. The lavish decorations, the elegant gowns and tuxedos, and the symphony of laughter and music filled the air. Eros, as the host, radiated an aura of grace and charm as he greeted his noble guests.

Among the crowd, you stood out like a rare gem. Ever since that initial encounter in the distant past, you instantly captured Eros's attention. Dressed in a stunning gown that highlighted your every curve and complimented your features, he couldn't take his eyes off of you as you moved gracefully across the ballroom floor.

As the evening progressed, Eros finally approached you during the waltz, extending his hand with a charming smile.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady?" he asked, his voice a deep velvet that resonated with a touch of intrigue.

You graciously accepted his invitation, placing your hand in his. The moment your fingertips touched, a jolt of electricity shot through your veins, leaving you momentarily speechless. As the orchestra began to play, the two of you glided effortlessly across the polished marble floor, locked in a dance that seemed to transcend time and space.

Eros, an impeccable dancer, led with a firm yet gentle hand, guiding you with synchronized ease. His eyes never left your face, a mixture of admiration and desire sparking within them. The chemistry between you was undeniable as if the universe conspired to bring you together.

The ball continued, and the night grew late. As the guests bid their farewells and began to disperse, leaving the palace, you made your way towards your carriage, ready to head home. Little did you know that danger lurked in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Suddenly, before your very eyes, a group of masked figures emerged from the darkness promptly incapacitating the coachman. With their faces hidden, they moved swiftly, surrounding you and blocking any escape route. Panic surged through your veins, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest.

Eros, who had been observing from a distance, watched with smug satisfaction as the kidnapping unfolded. His grip on his emotions tightened as he suppressed a grin.

As you were whisked away, a single glimmer of defiance flickered in your eyes, a promise that you wouldn't go down without a fight. Unfortunately for you, the odds were not in your favor, for Eros Vasilios excelled in carefully crafted strategies and meticulous plans.

—

The struggle was fierce, the fight for survival evident in every scream, every kick, and every bite that marked your desperate attempts to resist. But despite your valiant efforts, it was all in vain as they overpowered you, their strength overwhelming. The last semblance of hope dwindled as they bound your hands tightly behind your back and secured a gag over your mouth, silencing your cries for help.

The carriage ride seemed to stretch on endlessly, each bump and jolt increasing your anxiety and fear. Finally, the wheels came to an abrupt halt in front of a secluded cabin tucked away in the depths of the foreboding woods. This was to be your prison, the place where unspeakable horrors awaited.

The boss, a sadistic man consumed by evil, took pleasure in the torment he inflicted upon you. His hands were instruments of pain, each slap, kick, and bruise sending waves of agony coursing through your body. Spiteful and cruel words dripped from his lips, latching onto your mind, embedding themselves deep within your consciousness.

There was no escape from his depravity as he violated you, using your body for his own twisted pleasure. Each invasion of your most intimate being served to further degrade, humiliate, and break the spirit you fought so hard to protect. Time seemed to lose all meaning as the minutes turned into hours, your consciousness fading in and out, a fragment of your shattered identity clinging to the small threads of reality.

Just as darkness started to encase your battered body and shattered soul, a glimmer of hope pierced through like a ray of light. Eros, the wings of the empire, arrived with his imperial guards, ready to play the role of savior. His expression feigned concern and anger, a mask expertly crafted to deceive.

The guards descended upon your tormentors with swift and brutal force, apprehending them with ruthless efficiency. To any onlooker, it would seem that Eros had come to save the day, that he was the hero in this twisted tale. In truth, his role as your captor was a secret only he knew, and he fabricated this opportunity to exploit your vulnerability, further deepening the web of dependency he sought to create.

As you regained consciousness, bruised and broken, the sight of Eros surrounded by the guards offered a deceptive sense of security. It was the perfect illusion, a play of power and control. His eyes, once filled with desire and manipulation, now simmered with a calculated concern, an act performed flawlessly to captivate your trust.

With carefully chosen words, he ensured that your wounds will be tended to, even as the memory of the pain lingered in the recesses of your mind. Eros would be your caretaker, your protector, while covertly relishing in the thrill of his deceptive game. Behind his noble facade, drank in the hope and longing that emanated from you.

Eros Vasilios, the master of deceit, had woven a web so intricate that it will ensnare not just your body, but your very essence. And as you clung to his salvation, unbeknownst to you, you had fallen into his grasp, a mere pawn in his dangerous game of power and desire.

"Is it truly you, Your Highness? Have you come to rescue me?" I murmur, exhausted from the relentless torment I've endured.

Eros cradled your broken body in his arms, his touch gentle yet seething with hidden malevolence. As you murmured your disbelief and questioned his sudden appearance as your savior, he looked down at you, his silver eyes shimmering with fabricated sincerity.

"Yes, my dear, it is me," he replied softly, his tone laced with false concern. "I received word of your unfortunate plight, and the very idea of you enduring such suffering in the clutches of those monsters is intolerable. I am here to protect you."

A faint smile danced at the corners of his lips, concealed behind a mask of apparent empathy. On the inside, however, Eros relished in the perverse joy that coursed through his veins, knowing that his meticulously crafted plan was unfolding flawlessly. You, vulnerable and shattered, were the perfect blank canvas for him to manipulate. A sense of complete control washed over him, making his every nerve tingle with sadistic glee.

In his twisted mind, you were clay waiting to be molded, ready to be shaped according to his whims and desires. He cherished the opportunity to have you at your most vulnerable, to claim dominion over your bruised soul and shattered innocence. Soon, the intense bond he sought to establish would be unquestionable, ensuring he held your heart and mind captive under his influence.

"All will be well, my dear," Eros murmured, his voice a low, honeyed whisper. "I promise to keep you safe from harm, to heal your wounds, and bring you back to the person you once were."

With every pledge uttered, he caressed your battered cheek tenderly, his touch belying the inherent cruelty that resided within him. As he conveyed a facade of compassion, his mind churned with the endless possibilities that lay before him, delighted in the game of manipulation that awaited. His sadistic glee simmered just beneath the surface, obscured by the elegant facade he projected. 

"I can't express my gratitude enough, Your Highness.  My life is forever indebted to your grace."

Eros held you tenderly in his arms, his expression a mask of concern and compassion, his true intentions buried deep within his eyes. Upon hearing your plea to leave the nightmarish cabin behind, he nodded solemnly.

"I understand, my dear. The Imperial Castle will provide the best care for you," he replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Rest assured, you are safe now. I will personally see to it that you receive the utmost care and attention."

"Please, I desperately want to escape from this place."

With that, he carried you towards a waiting carriage, the guards falling in line to accompany you on your journey. As they opened the carriage door, Eros carefully settled you onto the plush velvet seat, attempting to make you as comfortable as possible.

Inside the carriage, the soft glow of lanterns bathed the interior, casting a warm, intimate atmosphere. Eros took a seat across from you, his eyes fixed upon your bruised form, a semblance of worry etched on his features. His voice softened as he spoke, his words designed to further solidify the dependency he wished to cultivate.

"Rest assured, my dear. You have my full protection," Eros reassured, his silver gaze locked with yours. "Once we arrive at the castle, you will receive the best care available. I will personally oversee your recovery."

The subtle flicker of anticipation danced in his eyes, a cruel delight at the thought of guiding you through the healing process. "I will make sure you never have to endure such pain again," he continued, his voice laced with feigned sincerity. "We will see this through together, my dear. You will become stronger, and I will be there every step of the way."

—

The passage of time brought with it physical healing, as your body gradually mended under the watchful eyes of the castle's medical staff. Eros, ever-present and attentive, ensured that you received the finest care available, his role as protector and confidant firmly established. As the days turned into weeks and then months, you felt yourself drawn closer to him. The impenetrable walls of the palace grounds became your sanctuary, a cocoon where you felt undeniably safe in Eros's presence.

But on this gloomy day, when the weight of your past torments bore down upon you, the illusion of safety began to shatter. In the sanctuary of your room, positioned conveniently next to Eros's own chamber, tears stained your cheeks, your vulnerability laid bare in the solitude that only darkness could provide. The guards stationed outside your quarters remained ever vigilant, yet unaware of the storm brewing within your heart and mind.

Every sob wracked your body as the realization of the atrocities you had endured washed over you. The pain, once carefully concealed behind a facade of strength, now erupted with unyielding force. The tightly guarded walls that protected your emotions had crumbled, exposing you entirely to the raw, unadulterated anguish that engulfed your shattered soul.

And in the room adjacent to yours, Eros's acute hearing caught the faint sounds of your despair. A brief flicker of concern flashed across his features before it was swiftly replaced with a cool calculation, his mind already formulating a plan to exploit your emotional vulnerability for his own gain. Guided by an insatiable curiosity and a sadistic inclination, he crossed the threshold into your room without hesitation.

As his eyes met your tear-streaked face, a semblance of empathy washed over his features, his gaze betraying a hint of genuine concern. Taking measured steps toward you, he knelt beside your trembling form, his voice a soothing murmur in the tempest of your anguish.

"My dear, what troubles you so?" Eros inquired, his tone carefully pitched to convey both support and curiosity. "Do not bear this burden alone. Share your pain with me. Let me help you carry it."

Inside, however, a wicked thrill rippled through Eros's core, knowing that the cracks in your emotional armor allowed for further manipulation. With every tear that fell, he recognized an opportunity to deepen your reliance upon him, an opportunity to claim not just your body but your shattered psyche as well.

Knees sinking into the plush carpet, he reached out to brush a gentle hand against your cheek, his touch seemingly tender yet tinged with an undercurrent of possessiveness. Behind those silver eyes, a fire burned with a sadistic desire, a craving to exploit your fragile state for his personal gratification.

The torrent of tears streamed relentlessly down your face, a testament to the indescribable pain that ravaged your soul. Eros listened carefully to your anguish, his silver eyes fixated on your trembling form. Though you bared the depths of your shattered psyche, the words that spilled from your lips only seemed to increase his appetite for control.

His gaze softened, an empathetic façade plastered across his features as you sought solace in his embrace. As your trembling arms encircled him, a hollow pit formed in his stomach, replaced with a surge of satisfaction at the depth of your desperation. He relished in the power he held over you, knowing that your vulnerability made you malleable to his every whim.

"I understand, my dear," Eros whispered, his voice a gentle caress of reassurance. "You have been through unimaginable horrors, but remember, you are safe now. I saved you because I couldn't bear to see you suffer."

His arms wrapped around you in a feigned display of warmth, offering you the illusion of sanctuary within his embrace. A subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, hidden from your tear-filled gaze. He derived a perverse pleasure from your confession, reveling in the knowledge that your trust and dependence on him reached such profound depths.

"You are not alone," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Regardless of the circumstances. I'll always be there for you. I’ll be the one to care for you."

But deep within Eros, a sadistic satisfaction simmered, rekindled by your open vulnerability and the revelation of the unspeakable acts forced upon you. The knowledge of your torment gnawed at his conscience, even as he dissected it through the lens of manipulation. The darkness that stained your past would serve as the foundation upon which he would build his own empire of control.

In that moment, Eros relished the power he possessed, intoxicated by your unwavering belief in his ability to mend your shattered soul. The tendrils of his influence tightened around your heart, ensnaring you further within his grasp. As you clung to him for comfort, he basked in the echoes of your pain, preparing to exploit them to their fullest extent.

A twisted smirk danced across his lips. Your plea for help and guidance resonated within him, triggering a wicked desire to possess you in ways unimaginable. Yet, he skillfully masked his ulterior motives, portraying himself as a beacon of solace in your darkest hour.

As your grip tightened around him, he reciprocated, his arms enveloping you in a deceptive tenderness. His lips brushed against your ear, his voice a velvet murmur laced with desire, tailored to further seduce your already fragile state.

"Let me be the one to cleanse those stains, to rid your body of their touch," Eros whispered, his breath hitching with a feigned vulnerability. "In the intimacy we share, I will wash away the sins of the past, replacing them with a love that transcends pain and anguish."

His words cast a spell, drawing you further into his snare. His touch, once comforting, now ignited a flame of desire within you. The boundaries between prince and subject blurred, giving rise to a hunger that thrived within the depths of your souls.

Eros gazed upon your tear-streaked face, his silver eyes filled with a mixture of longing and possession. In that moment, he became both your salvation and your damnation, a deity that demanded worship and offered salvation.

"My dear, there is a way we can find solace together," Eros murmured, his voice thick with unspoken promises. "Through this sacred act of love, I can help you cleanse yourself of the haunting touch of your past. I can show you a world where the connection between two souls can transcend the darkest of memories."

With a calculated elegance, Eros led you toward the plush confines of your bed, his hands trailing sensually along your body, guiding you to a place where desire and intimacy intertwined. The scent of forbidden pleasure permeated the room, thick with anticipation as your bodies embraced, entangled in a dance choreographed by wicked desire.

Within the intimate confines of your room, Eros orchestrated a symphony of passion and power, claiming you in a frenzied entanglement of limbs and whispered promises. His touch, skilled and possessive, sought to erase the lingering stains of your past, to inscribe upon your body the indelible marks of his dominance.

In that sacred moment, pleasure mingled with pain, and the twisted dance of power and vulnerability played out with every breathless gasp and fervent moan. Eros indulged in the depths of your surrender, crafting an illusion of ecstasy that would forever bind your fates together.

As the room dissolved into shadows and the lines between right and wrong blurred, you found yourself caught in the irresistible spell of Eros - the enigmatic Crown Prince who promised salvation through sin, love through manipulation, and a shattered soul made whole through twisted desire.

—

The sunrays cascaded through the parted curtains, casting a golden glow upon the aftermath of the night's fervent passions. Eros, reclining amidst the disheveled sheets, watched with a smirk as you stirred from your slumber. Satisfaction flickered in his silver eyes, for his elaborate plot had, yet again, yielded fruitful results.

Your delicate features, softened in the morning light, elicited a mixture of amusement and possessiveness within him. It pleased him to see the last night’s traces etched upon your skin, a reminder of his claim and the power he held over you. His desires were fulfilled, he now turned his attention to the next stage of his Machiavellian plan.

As you fluttered your eyes open, your gaze instinctively sought out Eros, the man who had claimed your body and awakened desires you never knew existed. The electric chemistry between you both still lingered in the air, a tangible reminder of the night's passionate union. With a calculated charm, Eros extended a hand to you, inviting you into his world of unspoken promises and shared secrets.

"Good morning, my dear," Eros greeted, his voice as smooth and alluring as ever. "Last night was... extraordinary. I hope you found solace in our intimacy."

His words carried a deeper meaning, conveying his intent to bind you to him in a way that surpassed physical desires alone. Eros saw the opportunity to further solidify his dominion over your entire being. And in his grand plan, the final puzzle piece was to make you his crown princess, forever chaining you to his side.

With careful precision, he pressed on, his gaze unwavering as he unveiled his intentions like a prized possession. "My dear, our souls are beautifully entertained, and I cannot help but envision a future where you are forever by my side as the jewel of the Vasilios Empire. Will you do me the honor of becoming my crown princess?"

Eros's proposal, wrapped in the guise of love and sanctity, held implications far beyond the realm of genuine affection. His intentions were clear - to manipulate your desires and seal your fate within the halls of power. The notion of being bound to him for eternity, wearing the title of his bride, would serve as the ultimate shackle, ensuring your obedience and quelling any doubts of escape.

The weight of his proposition hung in the air, the gravity of his words fueling the sudden realization of the depths of your entanglement. Eros, the Crown Prince, the orchestrator of your life, sought to complete the cycle of possession through the sanctity of marriage. There would be no escape, no rebellion left unquelled. You were to be forever tethered to him, bearing the title of his bride and eternally subject to his will.

As your heart hammered within your chest, conflicted emotions rose to the surface. The remnants of pleasure from the previous night intertwined with apprehension and uncertainty, creating a tumultuous storm within you. Eros awaited your response, fully aware that the pull he had on your heart would guide you toward the answer he sought.

Images of a future merged with his flashed before your eyes, visions of opulence, power, and privilege intermingled with the darkness of manipulation and control. The choice before you, though veiled in the guise of love and commitment, was one founded upon a foundation of chains and servitude.

As you took his outstretched hand, an unspoken agreement settled between you. The path forward, fraught with struggle and sacrifice, was irrevocably set. In accepting his proposal, you sealed your fate as the Crown Princess of the Vasilios Empire, forever bound to Eros's will and the tendrils of his intricate web.

—

In the wake of Eros's proposal and your acceptance, the palace walls buzzed with fervor and delight. The news of the union between the Crown Prince and a rescued noblewoman ignited the imaginations of the Vasilios Empire's inhabitants. To the masses, it was the epitome of a fairy tale romance, a symbol of hope and unity.

Eros, ever the master manipulator, ensured that the public perception of your impending matrimony aligned with his carefully constructed narrative. He orchestrated a delicate dance of whispers and half-truths, painting your love story as one borne from pure intentions. And the empire delighted in your tale, eagerly embracing the illusion of a union destined by fate.

Preparations for the grand wedding unfolded swiftly under Eros's meticulous eye. The palace, adorned in regal opulence, buzzed with the frenetic energy of men and women working tirelessly to bring Eros's vision to life. Rich fabrics, expertly crafted jewelry, and intricate floral arrangements adorned every corner, a testament to the grandeur that awaited.

You, the future crown prince (or rather, empress?), were guided through the preparations with grace and poise befitting your newfound status. Every detail, from the selection of your wedding gown to the intricate choreography of the ceremony, was curated to reflect the magnificence and power of the Vasilios dynasty.

As the days turned into weeks, you became a treasured pawn in Eros's grand game of control and manipulation, skillfully maneuvered to satisfy his every whimsical desire. Within the confines of the palace, he orchestrated your life, molding you into the perfect counterpart to his inflated ego. You were suffused with etiquette lessons, political briefings, and the nuances of courtly life, all with the underlying intention of binding you tighter to his side.

Amidst the whirlwind of preparations, Eros savored in the power and control he exerted over your future. The allure of becoming an emperor, of you being the one who stood beside him on the throne, seemed like the ultimate prize in his grand strategy for dominion. And he would have it all - your body, your mind, your soul, and now, your unquestioning submission as his betrothed.

The days danced by, the eve of your wedding drawing closer with each passing moment. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, and the moon illuminated the night sky, you stood on the precipice of a new chapter. The walls of the palace whispered with an air of anticipation, carrying the weight of a future forged in subjugation and absolute power.

The empire held its breath, eagerly awaiting the day when the Crown Prince would unite with his chosen bride. As the preparations reached their climax, you could feel the weight of the crown pressing upon your brow. In the echoing halls of the palace, the final masterstroke of Eros's web of manipulation was set to unfurl, and you were caught in its intricate threads, forever entwined with the enigmatic prince who sought to possess your very essence.

—

The waves crashed against the shore as the moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow upon the beach-side villa where Eros had chosen to spend your honeymoon. The opulence of the surroundings bespoke Eros's insatiable desire to indulge in every whim, drowning you in a sea of luxury and decadence.

Within the walls of the villa's plush chambers, Eros reveled in his newfound power over you, his crown princess – his wife. With a sadistic smile that danced upon his lips, he devoured the sight before him – your trembling body, bearing the marks of his possession and desire. He had reduced you to a quivering, needy slut, a manifestation of his dominance and your submission.

Eros chuckled lowly, savoring the taste of power as he watched your dumbfounded expressions, your once-composed self diluted in a mix of pleasure and vulnerability. To him, this was a conquest, the ultimate manifestation of superior control. He wallowed in his ability to make you beg, to reduce you to the most primal and raw form of need and desire.

His satisfaction grew as your body writhed beneath his touch, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. Eros was a master of manipulation, both emotional and physical, and he knew precisely how to push you to the brink of ecstasy. Each moan, whimper, or gasp that escaped your lips fed his insatiable hunger for power and left him thirsting for more.

Dominance and desire mingled in his eyes as he watched his little doll succumb to his every whim. Every stroke, every demanding thrust, was an act of possession, reinforcing the depth of his control over your body and soul. And in the midst of this rapturous dance, Eros basked in his physical superiority, a stark contrast to your smaller, subservient frame.

As waves of pleasure crashed over both of you, your bodies intertwined in a symphony of pain and pleasure, Eros relished the sight of your complete surrender. It was in these intimate moments that he felt alive, truly connected to the world around him. The power he derived from reducing you to a quivering mess resonated deep within his being, filling him with a sense of purpose and fulfillment.

As the night wore on, the sounds of your shared passion echoed within the secluded villa, a testament to the indomitable force that bound you both. Eros, the cunning architect of your destiny, reveled in the sight of his precious doll, broken and remade to suit his every desire.

—

Amidst the prevailing sense of stability and contentment, a devastating event cast a long shadow over the empire. The passing of Eros's father, the former emperor, came far too swiftly, leaving whispers of foul play lingering in the air. The funeral, a somber affair steeped in tradition and decorum, marked the end of an era and the ascension of a new ruler. Eros coronated as the emperor, stepped onto the throne, a symbol of unrivaled power and authority. And you, his empress, stood beside him, an ethereal presence radiating elegance and a quiet strength that commanded the respect of court and commoner alike.

Yes, the passage of time had brought forth both joyous triumphs and heartbreaking sorrows within the confines of the imperial palace. The birth of your children, Anteros and Hedone, gifted you and Eros with a taste of familial bliss amid the tumultuous undercurrents of power and control. The empire rejoiced in the knowledge that the dynasty would continue, the heirs of Eros Vasilios were instilled with greatness from birth. They were the embodiment of the empire's hope and future

As your children grew, their laughter filling the halls and their curious eyes exploring every corner, the empire thrived under Eros's rule. The Vasilios Empire prospered under his deft hand, as he navigated the complex maze of politics and power with an unyielding determination. His subjects, blind to the darkness that roiled beneath his composed exterior, adored their emperor with unwavering loyalty.

You, too, had become the epitome of grace, embodying the regality expected of the empress. You, the once lowly noblewoman, stood by Eros's side, an impeccable figure of regality and grace. The years had refined and honed your abilities, transforming you into the perfect counterpart for the cunning emperor. Together, you ruled with an iron fist concealed by velvet gloves, manipulating the chessboard of power with strategic precision. Every movement, every word, an expertly choreographed performance that garnered reverence and admiration from all who beheld you. Eros, ever the orchestrator, maneuvered you into a position of power, a figurehead that commanded respect and awe.

Amidst the political machinations and the dance of power, a passionate night gifted you with your second daughter, Calypso. With each child, the familial bond between you and Eros strengthened, forging an unbreakable connection that neither time nor circumstance could sever. They were the blossoms of your love, reminders that even in darkness, there existed traces of light.

As time passed,  the sheer strength of Eros’s strategic mind allowed the Vasilios Empire to flourish, its citizens reaping the benefits of his calculated governance. Under the watchful gaze of its emperor and empress, intricately woven threads of control and manipulation strengthened Eros's rule. The darkness that loomed beneath his facade remained hidden, his subjects blissfully unaware of the depths of his cunning and ruthlessness.

Little did they know, as they celebrated the empire's prosperity, that Eros's ambitions extended far beyond the borders of power and control they could comprehend. The intricacies of his grand design continued to unfold, ensnaring both friend and foe alike. Within his heart, a consuming hunger burned, his thirst for divinity as insatiable as the power he sought to wield.

As the empire basked in the glory of its emperor and empress, fate spun its wicked webs, quietly guiding the future of the Vasilios lineage and beckoning Eros toward the precipice of his dark desires.