#pet prince prisoner

[ventique18]

Dragon Malleus headcanons

You're used to how he looks in his two-legged fae form. Everyone is, honestly. But the thing is, that's not really how he truly, originally looks like. And though he knows his form of flesh is just as much of who he is as his origin, there are times when he undergoes some sort of withdrawal; a primal need to be back in the skin he was molded in. So he would occasionally spend a few days living his life as a gigantic dragon.

He doesn't particularly like being in his dragon form. He knows he's glorious and takes pride in that, of course, but it's just that it's so inconvenient. He can't fit in places. He can't grab things. He can't make gargoyles. He has to eat an entire town's worth of food just to not be hungry. But most of all, he can't really feel.

He's extremely durable. He's already impervious to damage in his humanoid form, but even more so as a dragon with walls and walls of the hardest material on Twisted Wonderland permanently attached to his body. Which is great, of course-- it's essential to his survival, but it comes with the caveat that no matter how much you touch him, no matter how much you try to show physical affection towards him, he simply cannot feel.

But there is one part of him that's soft. Something that isn't covered inch to inch in scales. His tongue.

So what best to take advantage of this little weakness than to cover you head to toe in slobber, of course?

Take note that him doing so doesn't imply anything malicious (unless you want to, of course). It's just that it's so easy to feel your presence by licking you. He can touch you without accidentally hurting you. And, as much as he refuses to admit it to avoid sounding like a pervert, being able to smell your familiar scent gives him a tender comfort. A sense of welcoming even in this world that refuses to welcome him in his rawest form.

But being covered in slobber isn't exactly the best feeling in the world. When you tell him that, the... fins on his jaw draw back, and he plants himself on the ground; snout partially buried behind his curled claws. Dragons aren't particularly expressive, but you can safely guess that he's feeling guilty of bothering you.

So you offer to help him find somewhere else to touch. He's a bit hesitant-- it seems dragons don't like the idea of exploring their weaknesses, but he agrees because it's you.

And would you look at that. He can feel you when you vigorously rub his belly. The feeling isn't really as detailed as his tongue's, but he can feel something. And it feels rather... Rather... Relaxing. He's huge though, so from your perspective it's like washing a car, but with exaggerated movements as a stroke from your height's head to toe is like scratching a spot for him.

It's tiring, but you persist with the power of love.

So this becomes a habit for you. When he transforms into a dragon, he would ask you to rub his belly, or ask for your permission to be licked if you don't look like you're in a bad mood that day. All of this is done somewhere private, of course.

So when someone would walk in by accident... And witness their prince rolled over like a dog, getting petted on his tummy... It goes to say that the dragon would be gone in a flash; replaced by a very angry, very threatening unit of a man very politely asking the intruder if he saw something. Of course the answer is always "not a single thing, sir!".

You laugh, and ask if he wants to continue with what you were doing. He sighs, refuses, and says he's not in the mood for childish amusement anymore.

"But... I can think of other, more enjoyable things we can do together."

And so the dragon, now in his villainous, irresistibly devilish form, whisks his prisoner away to a place no one knows.

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 5

Word Count: 11.6k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, kidnapping, syringes, hitting, bloodshed, attempted rape, lots of blood, sylus goes a tad bit crazy, pet names like kitten, sweetie, doll, little mouse, stalking,

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel

AN: I decided to make this chapters theme red since it fits the bloodiness of this chapter. This is on A03 as well! Also YALL I'm so sorry, apparently my taglist hasn't been tagging people correctly. It should be fixed now! I’ll go back and fix it on the other lists as well!! Per usual, heed the warnings and enjoy! Next chapter is definitely going to have lots of smut, I’m already writing it 😌

"Your tears, your pain, your misery," Sylus whispers, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy as his hand moves gently to your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that hasn’t yet fallen, his touch both tender and terrifying. "It all belongs to me."

“I am the only one who gets to see you cry”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.6

The darkness had swallowed you whole. When you blink your eyes open, the world is a blur, as though you’re caught between waking and a nightmare. Cold, sharp and biting, is the first thing you feel, seeping into your skin from the damp concrete beneath you. Your nightgown is soaked, sticking to your body, the freezing water from the shower still dripping slowly from the showerhead, an eerie rhythm to the otherwise oppressive silence.

It takes a moment before the memories resurface, and when they do, they crash over you like a wave. The basement. Reese. The other man. The betrayal. Your heart clenches painfully as you recall the way Reese had looked at you when he led you here, his guilt ridden face made you scowl.

How dare he have a conscious when he had led you to your very demise? You had trusted him. Told him about your kidnapping, your escape. He had listened with kind eyes, nodding in all the right places, making you believe he was different—that he was your salvation in a world that had turned cruel. He had seemed so genuine, offering you a place to stay, a promise of safety. But now, that memory feels like poison, a twisted mockery of the trust you had so willingly given him.

How could you have been so naive?

You groan as you try to sit yourself upright, every muscle in your body protesting with sharp pain. The cold has seeped so deeply into your bones that it feels like your limbs are made of lead, heavy and uncooperative. Your fingers dig into the rough concrete as you push against it, your nightgown clinging to your skin, wet and miserable.

Your head spins, the pounding ache a reminder of everything you’ve been through, but you grit your teeth and force yourself to move. Lying there, helpless, isn’t an option. Not anymore.

Each breath is a struggle, shallow and ragged, as you steady yourself against the wall behind you. The dampness of the basement, the steady drip of water in the corner, the faint musty scent of decay—it all feels suffocating, as though the walls are closing in. You blink hard, trying to focus, to ground yourself in the moment, but the betrayal still burns in your mind, cutting deeper than any physical wound.

Reese's face flashes before your eyes again, his soft voice promising safety, and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a shaky exhale. Safety. What a cruel joke.

You had simply traded one prison for a colder, darker one.

You look around the basement, squinting in the dim light. Your legs ache as you try to move them, pins and needles shooting through your feet as you attempt to stand. Your body feels battered, but the deeper pain—the one rooted in the betrayal—hurts far worse. Reese wasn’t some random passerby, some kind stranger. He knew what he was doing, and worse, he had listened to your story of suffering and seen you as an opportunity to fulfill some promise.

As you lean against the wall, trying to steady your shaky breath, Reese’s words echo in your mind, gnawing at your already fragile sense of reality.

“I promised them a girl.”

The phrase rattles around in your skull, unsettling and cryptic. What did he mean by that? Who was them?

Your stomach turns, the bile rising in your throat as you replay the memory over and over. Reese had said it shakily, his voice trembling, his eyes wide with barely concealed fear. But his words were soaked in something far darker, something that made your skin crawl the moment they left his lips.

Promised them a girl.

The weight of it sinks in deeper, heavier with each passing moment, like a noose tightening around your neck.

Your hands curl into fists, nails digging sharply into your palms as you struggle to suppress the rising wave of nausea and panic. Every breath feels like a battle, the air thick with dread. You want answers—need answers—but more than anything, you need to get out of here. Every second you spend trapped in this basement feels like a countdown ticking away to something far worse than anything your mind can conjure.

Whatever Reese had promised them, whatever twisted deal he’d made, you won’t let it come to pass. You won’t be some pawn in this dark, twisted game he's playing. You refuse to be reduced to a bargaining chip for them, whoever they are. They might have Reese tangled in their web, but they won’t have you.

Your eyes drift toward the dingy mattress settled on a metal frame, barely visible in the dim light. A tattered towel, a folded pair of sweatpants and a white shirt lie haphazardly on top of it. You hesitate for a moment, the sight catching you off guard. Did Reese leave these here for you?

The thought sends a wave of conflicting emotions through you—anger, confusion, even a twisted sense of pity. Despite everything, despite handing you over to whatever fate awaits, had he still tried to offer some small gesture of comfort? Or had this been planned, just part of the sick arrangement, a way to keep you alive long enough for them?

You shake the thought from your mind. It doesn’t matter.

The cold clings to you, a constant, suffocating presence in your wet nightgown. Your teeth are still chattering, your skin icy to the touch. Without thinking too much about it, you rush over to the mattress, snatching the towel and the sweatpants. The rough fabric of the towel is worn, but it's warm enough as you rub it over your chilled skin, drying the water that’s soaked through your night gown.

With shaking hands, you strip off your wet, heavy dress and quickly pull on the dry sweatpants and t shirt. The warmth is immediate, a small, fleeting relief that feels almost like a luxury in this basement. You wish they weren't so loose, but it’s better than nothing.

Your body is still cold, still trembling, but the damp heaviness has lessened. You feel lighter, a little less trapped by the elements, even if the air around you remains heavy with the weight of everything that has yet to happen.

Reese’s face flashes in your mind again, his nervous, guilt-ridden eyes, and you can’t help but wonder—was this his attempt at an apology? His way of making up for the unforgivable?

Abruptly, you hear it – footsteps above, faint but unmistakable. Your entire body tenses as you freeze in place, straining to listen. The whispers that follow are barely audible through the thick ceiling, but you can catch snippets of words, just enough to recognize one of the voices: Reese.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage as you make your way towards the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, every step agonizing from the cold and strain. You push through the pain, desperate for more information.

You press your ear against the frigid metal, the voices growing clearer yet still muffled. Reese's voice is shaky and filled with nervous energy, like when he made that dreadful promise to "them."

"She said she was kidnapped," Reese's voice trembles, sending a wave of chills down your spine.

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin. A lump forms in your throat as you strain to listen, your mind racing. You had trusted him with everything, thinking he would help. The other voice – deep and calculated – interrupts.

"By who?" he demands harshly.

"I don't know," Reese replies, panic evident in his voice. "She didn't give names…I didn't ask…I didn't think…"

"Idiot," the man hisses angrily, cutting off Reese's rambling. There's a moment of silence before heavy footsteps approach closer. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.

You hear something unmistakable—a faint scraping sound. Your blood runs cold as you slowly realize what’s happening.

The metal handle of the hatch begins to turn.

It’s a slow, deliberate movement, the iron grinding against itself with a low, ominous creak that makes your breath catch in your throat. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening as you stare at the hatch, watching the handle twist further, the tension of the lock giving way with a soft, metallic click.

Panic floods through you as the realization hits like a punch to the gut—they’re about to open the hatch.

The handle continues to turn, and with a surge of panic, you pull away from the hatch. Your body moves before your mind can fully process, instincts kicking in. You scramble down the creaky wooden stairs, your legs protesting with every movement, but you push through the pain.

Each step feels like it takes an eternity, the sound of the hatch above grinding against your nerves. You reach the bottom, your breath ragged, and without a second thought, you make a desperate dive under the bed.

You scramble under the grimy mattress, your heart pounding as you press your body flat against the cold floor. The space beneath the bed is cramped, dark, and thick with dust, but you force yourself to stay still, biting back your panic. Your breathing comes in short, shaky bursts, but you try to control it, barely daring to inhale as you listen to the creak of the metal hatch swinging open.

The footsteps echo louder now, descending the wooden stairs, each step making your pulse race faster. You watch from your hiding place, the dim light casting shadows across the room as the first pair of feet—Reese's—comes into view. His sneakers shuffle nervously against the floor. Right behind him, heavier boots thud down the steps—boots that belong to someone much more imposing, someone far more dangerous.

You peek through the gloom, barely daring to lift your head.

Reese speaks first, his voice shaky. “I-I swear, I don’t know who kidnapped her. She just told me she was running, that she escaped. I didn’t ask for details.” There’s a tremor in his voice, thick with fear.

The other man’s voice is low, cold. “And you didn’t think to get more information? You were too busy playing hero.”

You didn't recognize this voice. He wasn't the one from earlier that had helped Reese bring you down here.

Reese mumbles something incoherent, but you can hear his terror. The other man clearly isn’t buying it. The booted footsteps hit the last step, and the man takes a slow, deliberate step into the basement.

You curl up tighter, heart racing, your body nearly paralyzed with fear as you catch sight of him. He’s taller than Reese, broader, with an intimidating presence that fills the room. His voice cuts through the tension. “Where is she, Reese? You promised us a girl. So, where is she?”

Reese stammers, his anxiety palpable. “She’s—she’s here, I swear, I locked the hatch. She couldn’t have gone anywhere.”

The man lets out a slow exhale, clearly unimpressed. “She better be. Otherwise, you’ll have hell to pay.”

You can feel the weight of the man’s presence shifting, scanning the room, and you shrink further into the darkness, praying that the shadows will keep you hidden. The dread mounts as the sound of their steps grows louder.

Your heart races, every muscle tense as the heavy boots come to a stop right beside the bed. You can feel the air shift, the man's presence looming dangerously above you. His shadow stretches over the mattress, and for a second, you think maybe—just maybe—he'll move on. Maybe he won't look under here.

But then, in one swift motion, he crouches down.

His eyes lock onto yours, blue and calculating, a cruel smile playing at the edges of his lips. Your stomach drops, panic surging through you like wildfire. You try to scramble backward, to escape deeper under the bed, but it's too late. His hand shoots out, iron-tight fingers wrapping around your ankle.

"No more hiding, little mouse," he growls, his voice thick with menace.

You kick and thrash, but he’s far too strong. With a brutal yank, he drags you out from under the bed, your nails scraping uselessly against the concrete floor as you try to find some kind of grip. Fear pulses through you, sharp and overwhelming, as you're pulled out into the open.

"Got her," the man says, his grip on your ankle tightening painfully. He hauls you upright, forcing you to stand even as your legs buckle beneath you.

Reese is standing off to the side, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with guilt and fear. He doesn’t say a word as the man forces you up, his cold fingers digging into your arm now, holding you in place.

The man looks you over, his smile fading as he studies you with dark, unreadable eyes. "This is her?" he says, glancing at Reese, his voice a mixture of disbelief and something far more dangerous.

Reese stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y-yes. I swear. She’s the one."

The man turns back to you, his expression hardening. "Good," he mutters darkly, tightening his grip on your arm until pain shoots through your shoulder.

You bit back a cry of pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction. The man's grip tightened further, his fingers digging into your flesh like steel talons. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as you fought to keep your composure.

"Let. Me. Go." You hissed through clenched teeth, each word dripping with venom.

The man's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Feisty, are we? Hilarious. Won't last long though".

He released your arm abruptly, causing you to stumble. As you regained your footing, you noticed Reese had retreated to a corner, his face a mask of guilt and fear. The betrayal stung, but you pushed the feeling aside. There would be time for that later. Right now, survival was your only priority.

The men turned toward the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, drawn to the sound of heels clacking against the wooden steps. You tensed, every muscle in your body coiling with anticipation as another pair of legs appeared, descending with an air of confidence. A woman stepped into the basement, her dark hair swinging with each precise step, her sharp brown eyes surveying the room with calm, calculated detachment. She was dressed in a crisp, business-casual outfit, perfectly put together, every detail deliberate.

Her heels struck the floor with a final, authoritative click as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze locking onto you immediately. There was no warmth in her eyes, no recognition of you as a person—only cold assessment, as though you were an object, a piece of inventory.

She didn’t speak right away, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the man beside you, then at Reese huddled in the corner. Her presence demanded attention, a silent command of the room that made your skin crawl.

“Is this the girl?” she asked at last, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of impatience.

The man nodded, his smirk never faltering. “She’s the one boss.”

The woman’s eyes swept over you again, lingering on you for a moment longer than before. You felt her gaze like ice, sharp and invasive, as if she could see through you, past your fear, right down to your core.

“She doesn’t look like much,” she remarked, almost casually, though there was a quiet menace in her tone. “But she’ll do hopefully.”

Your heart dropped, dread pooling in your stomach as her words hung in the air. Whatever Reese had gotten you into, it wasn’t just a betrayal—it was something far more dangerous. And now, you were caught in the middle of it.

Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out, but the walls felt like they were closing in, your options shrinking with every second that passed. You had to do something—anything—before it was too late.

You certainly couldn't fight your way out of here. It was 3v1, and the days of little food and constant stress had weakened you significantly. Your limbs felt like lead, and any attempt to resist would be useless, not against these people—especially with the woman’s calculating gaze locked onto you.

"Wh-what is this?" you stammer, trying to sound calm, but the tremor in your voice betrays you. "What do you plan to do with me?"

The woman turned toward you, her expression cold, detached. She raised an eyebrow, as though mildly amused by your question, but there was no kindness in her eyes—only a chilling indifference.

“Does it really matter?” she replied, her voice smooth but laced with cruelty. She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with each deliberate step, her presence looming over you. “You’re not in a position to negotiate or ask questions, are you?”

You felt your pulse race, panic swelling in your chest. You tried to stand straighter, to show some semblance of strength, but your body betrayed you, trembling from exhaustion and fear.

The man who had grabbed you before let out a low chuckle. “She’s already scared. Good. Makes things easier.”

Reese, from his corner, shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. The guilt was written all over his face, but he said nothing, didn’t even try to stop what was happening. He had already played his part in this nightmare.

The woman tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve been promised to someone very important, and it’s best if you cooperate. Things will be... easier for you.”

Your stomach dropped at the implications of her words. Promised? You were no longer just a person—you were a transaction.

Your mouth went dry as you forced the question past your lips, your voice shaky. "Promised for what?" You had to know. Every terrible possibility ran through your mind, but the uncertainty gnawed at you even more.

The woman paused, a brief flicker of something—pity, maybe?—crossing her face. She sighed softly, like she was indulging a child who didn’t know better. “I guess it couldn’t hurt for you to know,” she said, her tone almost bored. “Won’t make much difference in the end.”

She stepped closer, crouching down so she was eye-level with you. Her gaze softened slightly, but the words that followed made your blood run cold.

“You’ve been promised to a very wealthy man,” she began, her voice calm, detached. “His wife...she’s dying. Organ failure. They’ve tried everything—medications, various treatments—but nothing’s worked.”

Your mind raced, struggling to process the meaning behind her words. Organ failure? The realization hit you like a sledgehammer, a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach as her words continued.

“He’s willing to pay any price for a match,” she explained with chilling indifference, her eyes boring into yours. And if you're a perfect match for her...” She paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in before she added, almost with a shrug, “Your organs will save her life.”

A sickening silence followed, the air thick with your disbelief.

They were going to harvest your organs.

Panic clawed at your throat, and your body felt like it was in freefall. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The cold, brutal truth hung in the air between you and the woman, her pitying gaze cutting you deeper than anything else.

“You should feel honored,” she added, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. “You’ll be giving someone like her a second chance at life.”

Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears. Your survival wasn’t just threatened—it was already decided.

Your body went numb as her words settled over you, the realization of what they planned twisting your stomach into knots. But as the silence stretched on, the woman seemed to catch herself, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“We don’t know for sure if you’re a match yet,” she admitted, almost thoughtfully. “But you're a woman, so that's already one criteria met. And it’s just a matter of time before we find out the second.”

She reached into the pocket of her crisp jacket and pulled out a syringe and a small vial. The sight of it made your blood run cold. Your heart hammered against your chest, each beat a sharp reminder of how close you were to losing everything.

“I need to take a blood sample,” she said, her tone almost professional now. “Don’t bother resisting. We’ll get what we need, one way or another.”

Your limbs froze, panic surging through your veins. You wanted to run, to scream, but your legs felt like they were locked in place. The walls of the basement seemed to close in tighter around you, and for a moment, all you could focus on was the needle in her hand.

The woman’s dark brown eyes flicked toward you, assessing your reaction. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s just a small test,” she said, almost like she was coaxing you into compliance. “If you’re not a match, maybe you'll get lucky. You're a woman after all, you at least have other parts you can use to gain your freedom."

She stepped closer, the syringe gleaming under the dim basement light. Your body tensed, the urge to fight back bubbling up inside you. But you were weak, outnumbered, and utterly trapped.

“Hold out your arm,” she said softly, like she was giving you a choice.

Your breath caught in your throat as the syringe gleamed ominously in her hand. Your heart hurt as you glanced toward Reese, who stood in the corner, guilt-ridden and pale, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t help you—he wouldn’t help you.

You glanced back between her and the syringe, the world closing in tighter with each second. Your mind raced for a way out, some escape, but it was futile. Even if you refused, they’d force you—there was no other option.

You took a shaky breath and slowly extended your arm, the gesture more out of survival instinct than anything. Live long enough to find another way out, you told yourself, trying to cling to that sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was still time.

The woman smiled, satisfied, as she knelt beside you, her movements smooth and practiced. “Smart choice,” she said, wrapping a rubber band around your arm to prepare for the blood draw.

You winced as the needle pierced your skin, but you forced yourself to stay still. The vial began to fill with dark red blood, and the woman worked with a cold efficiency, as though she’d done this a hundred times before.

After what felt like an eternity, she withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to your arm. “There,” she said, standing up and eyeing the shiny vial filled with your blood. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You wanted to lash out, to scream, but your body was too drained, your mind too scattered. She was right—it didn’t matter if it was easy or hard. What mattered was what came next.

The woman turned to the man with the heavy boots. “Get this to the lab,” she ordered, her tone brisk. “The results will tell us everything we need.”

He nodded and took the vial, disappearing back up the stairs without a word. The metal hatch closed behind him with a heavy thud, and the basement fell back into tense silence.

The woman stayed behind, her eyes never leaving you. “Now we wait,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you’re lucky, you won’t be a match. But if you are… well, we’ll be in touch.”

You swallowed hard, dread pooling in your stomach. The blood had been drawn, the wheels set in motion—and there was nothing you could do but wait for your fate to be decided.

Reese shifted uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes downcast, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The woman glanced at him, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “I suggest you keep her in good condition until we know for sure. We wouldn’t want her damaged, would we?”

Reese flinched but nodded, his guilt written all over his face.

And with that, the woman turned on her heel and left, her heels clacking up the stairs, the metal hatch sealing you back in the basement.

You were alone again—alone with Reese and the suffocating weight of your uncertain future.

As the metal hatch slammed shut, trapping you back in the dim, suffocating basement, something inside you snapped. The overwhelming dread, the helplessness, the betrayal—it all collided at once. Your chest tightened, and your blood boiled with the rage that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Your eyes locked onto Reese, who was still slouched in the corner, avoiding your gaze. His entire body trembled, but all you could see was the man who had led you into this nightmare. The man who had stood by and watched as they drew your blood like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

You trusted him.

"You," you spat, your voice cracking with fury. "I trusted you, Reese."

He flinched at your words, but he didn’t look up. His hands were shaking, balled into fists at his sides, but that didn’t matter. He had made his choice.

"I trusted you!" you shouted, your voice growing louder, the raw emotion burning through your exhaustion. "I told you everything—I told you about my escape, I thought you were trying to help me!"

Reese's lips trembled, and he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, guilt etched deep into his pale face. "I... I didn't have a choice," he stammered, his voice weak, barely audible. "They—they would've killed me if I didn’t—"

"Spare me!" you snapped, cutting him off. "You sold me, Reese! You handed me over to them like I was nothing!" The weight of his betrayal hit you all over again, the pain of it cutting deeper than any physical wound. You had told him about your kidnapping, he had watched you sob over Xavier, had you thinking he was someone you could trust, someone who cared.

Tears of frustration burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t —not now, not for him of all people. "You knew what they were going to do to me," you continued, your voice trembling with anger. "You knew, and you did it anyway."

Reese shook his head, his voice cracking as he mumbled, "I—I didn't know they'd—about the organs. I thought..." He trailed off, as if the excuse could somehow absolve him. But it didn’t.

"Thought what?"

"I'd thought they'd just...rape you. And then dump you somewhere..." he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like the others.."

"Like the others?!" you said, your voice rising. "You...you've done this before? You're...sick! Fucking sick!"

He shrank back, visibly cowering under your words. "I didn't have a choice," he repeated weakly, like it was the only thing he could cling to.

"You always have a choice!" you shot back, your voice cracking from the strain. "You had a choice to be a good person, and you chose to betray me."

The room was silent after that, the air thick with tension. Reese had no response, nothing to say that could possibly justify what he'd done. He just stood there, looking more like a frightened child than the man who had so easily handed you over.

You swallowed hard, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions. "I hope it was worth it," you said coldly, the anger fading into something far more painful. "I hope whatever they promised you was worth selling me like this."

Reese remained silent, his eyes cast down, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but it held no weight, no real meaning. Before you could respond, he suddenly rushed past you, his footsteps heavy on the cold floor. He didn’t look back.

You watched, stunned, as he hurried up the wooden stairs, his movements frantic, almost as if he couldn’t bear to stay in the room with you a second longer. The old wooden stairs groaned under his weight, the sound harsh in the suffocating silence.

You stood frozen in place, your mind whirling with a mix of anger, disbelief, and the crushing weight of betrayal. His retreating figure disappeared through the metal hatch, and the sound of it slamming shut echoed through the basement like a final punctuation to his cowardice.

The room fell eerily quiet, the air thick with everything left unsaid. You were alone again, left with nothing but the cold, the dull ache of exhaustion, and the horrifying knowledge of what awaited you.

You slumped against the wall, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all at once. The basement felt smaller, colder, and more suffocating than before.

Days blurred into each other, each one indistinguishable from the next. The cold, damp basement became your prison, a place where time felt meaningless. Your mind drifted constantly, a mixture of fear, anger, and hopelessness gnawing at you from all sides. You found yourself thinking about Xavier—wondering if he was still out there, still searching for you. He had to be, didn’t he? You tried to cling to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d find you before it was too late.

You wished you had listened to him when he said he had a bad feeling about you going with Reese. How could you have been so stupid?

Reese came in and out of the basement sporadically, never staying for long. He kept his distance, barely making eye contact, as though seeing the consequences of his betrayal was too much for him to handle. He left you basic necessities—pads, water, a couple of small meals—but nothing more. Every time he disappeared, it felt like another thread of hope was being pulled away, leaving you more isolated than ever.

You pondered attacking Reese when he came down here next. He seemed fidgety and not as strong as the others. But still strong nonetheless. And in your weakened state, he could still take you down, or threaten you with the gun again.

At some point, you drifted off to sleep, exhaustion overtaking you in the cold dark. Your period had finally subsided, and so did the awful cramping, allowing you to rest at least somewhat peacefully. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but the sound of the metal hatch creaking open startled you awake. Instinctively, you didn’t move, thinking it was Reese again—another silent, guilty visit to drop something off before fleeing.

But then, a deep, gruff voice pierced the silence. A voice you recognized, but not in the way that brought comfort.

“Well, look who’s sleeping like a baby,” the voice sneered, low and menacing.

Your heart sank, and fear surged through you as you realized it wasn’t Reese. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, and your breath caught in your throat when you shifted to look at the voice.

It was the man—the one who had helped Reese bring you down here in the first place. His heavy boots clomped against the wooden stairs as he descended, and his shadow loomed over you, large and threatening. His expression was cold, his eyes calculating as they swept over you, like he was assessing just how broken you’d become since last seeing him.

“Thought maybe you’d die of boredom or despair by now,” he muttered, amusement tinged in his voice. “Guess you’ve got a little more fight in you than I thought.”

You swallowed hard, your body going rigid. You stayed still, instinct telling you that any sudden movement might provoke him. The air around him seemed darker, more dangerous than Reese’s jittery cowardice. This man was different—he was in control, and he wasn’t afraid of you.

“What do you want?” you finally managed to whisper, your voice shaky but defiant.

He stepped closer, his boots thudding against the concrete floor, the sound making your skin crawl. His smirk widened, and without warning, he crouched down, bringing his face level with yours.

“What I want,” he said, his voice low and mocking, “is to see if you’re worth anything besides your organs doll.”

The threat in his words hung heavy in the air, and you knew with chilling clarity that whatever came next, this man wasn’t here to make things easier for you.

The man crouched in front of you, his smirk growing wider as he watched the fear flicker across your face. You tried to keep still, to steady your breathing, but your body betrayed you—a small shiver ran through you, and you knew he’d seen it. His eyes glinted with satisfaction, feeding off your discomfort.

He leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his hot breath on your skin. "Reese might be too soft to touch a woman, but I’m not." His voice was a low, rumbling threat. "You’re property after all. But it'd be a shame to let sweet pussy go to waste before they cut you open."

You recoiled in horror at his depraved words, bile rising in your throat. The man straightened to his full height, towering over your prostrate form with an air of malevolent authority.

"So here's how this is going to go," he said casually, as if discussing the weather rather than your impending ravishment and dismemberment. "I'm going to have my fun..." He smirked cruelly. "And you are going to lay there and take it. Use any teeth and I'll rip them out of your head. Got it?"

Your mind raced, desperate to find some escape from the waking nightmare. But with Reese too cowardice to come down and interfere, and this sadistic brute clearly intent on violating you in the most degrading ways imaginable , you knew you were utterly at his mercy.

A strangled cry escaped your lips as tears streamed down your face. Despite your best efforts, the man's lecherous gaze only widened at the sight of you in distress. His grip on your arm tightened, filling you with pain.

"Go ahead and cry," he mocked. "It only turns me on even more, doll."

You screamed, desperately trying to free yourself and escape his grasp, but he was too strong. He slammed you back down onto the dirty mattress as you fought to kick him away. But he easily overpowered you and forced your leg back against the bed.

"Stop! Please!" you pleaded, horrified as he reached for the waistband of your sweatpants with his rough, calloused hands.

Panic surged through you as his fingers grazed your skin. In a burst of desperate strength, you twisted violently and managed to wrench your leg free. You kicked out hard, your foot connecting solidly with his jaw. He reeled back with a pained grunt, momentarily stunned.

"I said, lay there and take it" he growled, bringing his palm down against your face in a deafening slap. Angry hot pain radiates against your face and you cry out, tears spilling out faster now.

He wastes no time flipping you around, pinning you on your stomach against the bed. You sobbed loudly as he finishes pulling your sweatpants past your rear, rubbing his cold hands against the cloth of your underwear.

"Nice butt, smooth skin..." he growls, tugging off your underwear past your legs despite your struggle. "Oh this is gonna be so much fun."

Your underwear hits the concrete floor with a soft patter and your mind goes numb. There was truly no way out of this. Maybe the struggle was futile all along.

It was time to accept this.

Your body goes limp as you try to dissociate from the sound of the man unbuckling his belt. The sound of him shuffling with his underwear. The feel of his rough hands as he grabs your hips and raises them towards his groin, forcing you onto your elbows. You notice his breathing gets heavier as he takes in the sight of your exposed cunt.

"He shuffles in his pockets for a bit, looking for something. Your mind drifts off as he does so, thinking of the time Sylus had you in a similar position.

The morning he had promised to only do it once that day if you didn't fight him. You had picked the position yourself, not wanting to see him enter you again. At least that's what you told yourself.

Truthfully, you hated the way your face would heat up and your cunt grew wetter at the sight of his toned chest and stomach. The deep rumble of his voice in your ear as he praised you for taking him in all the way. You didn't know why your body reacted the way it did to him but it scared you. You had chalked it up to it just being an involuntary bodily reaction.

But there was no wetness when this beast touched you, no warmth or aching heat in your core.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tearing plastic.

Ah, he brought a condom. At least you wouldn't have to worry about catching any diseases before you were hacked to pieces.

You almost laugh at the thought but nothing was funny truly. The man grumbles a bit and rolls the condom onto his thick shaft gently, his knuckles popping as he slides it down. The smell of latex and lubricant fill the air momentarily. You wish you could gag at the smell of it, but you're too scared to move anymore. He positions himself, aligning his tip with you. You brace yourself for the pain that is sure to come, your heart pounding in your chest as he presses forward.

"If you make a sound, I'll beat your ass stupid. Got it?" he growls.

You say nothing as he begins trying to push into you, but he had clumsily misjudged where your slit was and kept missing. You couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, this guy clearly didn't have much experience with the female body. You feel his hand slam down on your head, causing you to cry out.

"Ain't. Shit. Funny..." he snarled, gripping the side of your face even harder. You stifle another sob, trying your hardest to breathe against the mattress.

Still, he kept trying to force his cock inside you, every clumsy miss rubbing salt in the wound of your complete helplessness. He leans back momentarily to try and balance his cock against you. Your head throbs under his grip and you feel your eyes starting to gently close, sticky tears threaded between your lashes.

Your mind, desperate for an escape from the current nightmare, drifts back to Sylus. Memories of him rise to the surface, unbidden yet comforting in their own strange way. You recall his gentle gaze, the way he’d look at you when you opened your eyes in the morning—those moments when everything was still, and his presence felt like a soft cocoon of warmth around you. You’d never once seen him fall asleep before you. No, Sylus clearly only slept when it was "morning". Your circadian rhythms had always been completely opposite, and you knew, deep down, that he was likely watching over you as you slept.

It had never really felt invasive though. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel... cherished. As though, in his world of shadows, you were the one light he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

No one had ever looked at you with such adoring eyes—not even Xavier. Though Xavier had cared for you, and there were moments where you saw glimpses of that same tenderness, it was different with Sylus. Something deeper. Something more intense, as though you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

The thought made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected. Even now, locked in this nightmare, it was Sylus’s gaze that haunted you—not Reese’s guilt, not Xavier’s concern, but the way Sylus had seen you, like you were fragile and powerful all at once.

Despite everything, he had shown you the most kindness out of anyone in this horrid place.

"Sylus..." your voice escapes in a broken whisper, a fragile plea lost beneath the weight of fear. Silent tears streak down your face, and your body shakes uncontrollably beneath the man's looming presence. His grunting had finally stopped, but the air between you buzzes with his barely-contained fury. His body is tense, frustrated—still unable to force himself into you.

With a snarl, he suddenly flips you onto your back, his hands rough and merciless. The room spins for a second, and your breath catches in your throat. He looms over you, his eyes dark and burning with a cruel light.

"What the hell did I say about talking?," he growls, voice low and dangerous. His hand rises, fist clenched, muscles rippling as he prepares to strike. Your heart lurches, and a terrified squeal slips out, unbidden. You squeeze your eyes shut, body curling in on itself instinctively, trembling as you wait for the blow to fall.

The seconds stretch unbearably long.

But the pain never comes.

Instead, the air shifts—thickening, buzzing with something far darker than the man hovering above you. His fist, still poised to strike, halts mid-air. His breath stutters. Eyes wide with shock, he suddenly clutches at his throat, his face twisting into something grotesque, panicked. His mouth opens as if to scream, but only a strangled gasp escapes.

"Is that anyway to talk to a lady?"

You blink, unsure if you’re seeing it right—red mist, thin tendrils coiling through the air like living smoke. It winds around him, constricting. His body spasms as if in a silent scream, but no sound comes, only those terrible, wet choking noises.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting second, wide with horror, before his body jerks violently. With a force that seems inhuman, he’s wrenched from above you, flung across the room like a rag doll. The impact as he slams into the far wall is sickening—bones cracking against stone, the wet sound of flesh collapsing under the blow.

He screams in agony, his body convulsing violently on the hard concrete as his cries echo through the space.

Your breath comes in shallow, rapid gasps, the red mist still hanging in the air, pulsing like it has a life of its own before it slowly starts to fade. The air grows colder in its absence, the immediate threat gone, but the tension in your chest refuses to ease. It's over, but the chaos is still fresh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Then you see him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his white hair touched with streaks of silver, and those unmistakable crimson eyes—sharp, intense, but not as lethal as they were a moment ago. There's no mistaking Sylus, even through the haze of confusion clouding your mind. You blink, trying to process it all. He’s here, finally, but the emotions swirling inside you are a tangled mess.

He steps toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze softening the closer he gets. Despite the relief that comes with his presence, something else churns beneath the surface—frustration, maybe even anger. He’s here, but it took so long. Too long.

"Why do you look so shocked?" Sylus smirks, his voice low and teasing, as if the sight of him towering over you like this is the most natural thing in the world. He tilts his head, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he studies your expression. "You called my name, didn’t you?"

You open your mouth, but no words come. Relief washes over you, but it’s tangled with confusion and resentment. Part of you wants to collapse into his arms, to finally feel safe, but another part of you burns with anxiety—why doesn't he look angry at you?

Sylus’s smirk softens into something more genuine, as if he senses the storm inside you. "I’m here now," he says, his voice quieter, almost gentle. But it doesn’t calm the whirlwind in your chest. You don’t know if you want to yell at him or thank him. Maybe both.

All you know is that the sight of him, standing there like he’s always been, stirs something deep within you that you can’t quite name. You're suddenly aware again of your half-nakedness and you rush to put back on your panties and sweatpants, much to Sylus's amusement.

“Wh-what took you so long?” you finally quip, a sharp edge to your voice as you lift your chin, deciding to meet his presence with defiance instead of relief. The condescension rolls off your tongue, even as your heart still pounds from the aftermath. You can feel the tension in your own body, a mix of trauma and pent-up frustration, but you mask it behind a cold stare.

Sylus moves toward the hyperventilating man still writhing on the ground, his gaze briefly flickering with something unreadable before a low chuckle escapes his lips. The sound reverberates through the room, rich and deep, completely unbothered by your biting words. His crimson eyes flick to you, amusement dancing in them, as if your sharp attitude was exactly what he’d anticipated.

“Is this the thanks I get, kitten?” he muses, his tone playful, yet carrying that underlying edge he always seems to have. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he towers over you, utterly relaxed, like your defiance is nothing more than an amusing game to him.

"I save you, and all you’ve got is attitude?" He raises an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips widening as if he’s enjoying this far too much. “You’re getting harder to please.”

The comment, laced with a playful challenge, lingers in the air. He seems utterly unaffected, like your frustration has only fueled his amusement, and for a moment, it’s hard to tell whether you want to snap back or let your guard down. That smirk of his—so infuriatingly calm and knowing—pulls you deeper into the whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Before you can spit out a retort, the sound of scuffling and harsh footsteps echoes down the stairwell. Your attention snaps toward the noise just as Reese is unceremoniously dragged down the steps, his pleas and panicked protests filling the room. The twins, Luke and Kieran, have him by the arms, hauling him down with little effort. Reese stumbles on the last step, crashing face-first onto the concrete.

Luke and Kieran exchange satisfied glances, snickering as they stand over him, a mixture of triumph and mockery in voices.

"We got him, boss," Luke announces with a smirk, nudging the groaning man with his boot. "Tried to run, but he fell flat on his face." He punctuates his words with another casual kick to Reese's side. "Much like he did just now."

Reese winces in pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he slowly lifts his head. His gaze darts frantically around the room, his face paling as he realizes who surrounds him. His eyes widen in terror, flitting between you, Sylus, and the man still crumpled on the ground beside him, writhing in pain.

"S-Sylus..." Reese stammers, his voice barely a whisper as it cracks with fear. His entire body begins to tremble, the weight of what he’s done crashing down on him. "You ran away from Sylus...?" The disbelief in his own voice is palpable, as if fleeing from someone like Sylus was a death sentence all on its own.

Sylus’s crimson eyes narrow as he watches you closely, his expression shifting to something darker—something possessive. He takes a deliberate step toward you, the casual ease he held moments ago now replaced with a quiet intensity. His gaze flicks to Reese, then back to you, and though his smile remains, there’s no warmth behind it.

"So," Sylus begins, voice smooth but tinged with something uneasy, "seems the two of you have gotten well acquainted?" The question feels loaded, not out of curiosity, but something more. His eyes bore into yours, as if searching for answers beyond your words. The smirk on his lips falters just slightly, betraying the irritation he’s trying to mask.

The tension between you grows thicker, his posture subtly shifting as if he’s placing himself between you and Reese. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t so much as glance at the trembling man on the ground. His focus is solely on you, as though the possibility of friendship with someone, especially another man, unsettles him more than the danger you just faced.

You shake your head immediately, the denial spilling from your lips without hesitation. "We’re not close!" you say quickly, the firmness in your voice leaving no room for doubt. "He’s no one to me."

Sylus’s eyes remain locked on yours, his crimson gaze intense, but you don’t falter. "Reese… he tricked me," you continue, the words coming faster now. "He’s the reason I’m down here in the first place. I didn’t come down here willingly. I followed him, stupidly thinking he was going to help me."

Your last words are filled with malice as your eyes flick to Reese, who cowers on the ground, unable to meet your glare. You shoot him a look of pure disdain, your anger boiling over at how easily he had deceived you, how he had dragged you into this mess.

Before you can say anything more, Sylus reaches out, his hand cool against your hair as he rubs the top of your head with an almost unnerving gentleness. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s the smug look on his face that catches you off guard.

“I know, sweetie,” Sylus says, his voice smooth and dripping with that signature arrogance. His eyes glitter with amusement as he watches you closely, his smirk deepening. “I watched you disappear into this house. I saw everything.” He speaks as if he had been in control of the situation from the start, his tone laced with confidence, as if he was always one step ahead.

"You were following me the entire time?" you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief as you try to piece together how much of this Sylus had been controlling from the shadows. Sylus merely chuckles, the sound rich and full of amusement, like your confusion was a source of entertainment for him.

"Something like that," he replies casually, his smirk widening. "I had Mephisto follow you."

As if on cue, swirl of red mist begins to materialize on Sylus's shoulder. The mist condenses around the form until, with a sharp, eerie caw, a large black crow appears, its wings flapping beside Sylus’s head. The bird’s eyes glow faintly, a reflection of the same crimson hue in Sylus’s gaze.

"Mephisto?" you and Reese say at the same time, your voices overlapping in disbelief.

You take a step back, staring at the bird in shock. "Mephisto... he's been that bird this whole time?" The revelation hits you like a slap in the face. You'd seen the bird before—many times, in fact—but you’d never thought it was more than just an ordinary creature. Now, the sight of it perched so confidently on Sylus’s shoulder, surrounded by that ominous red mist, makes your head spin.

Reese, still on the ground, stares up at the bird and then back at you, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "I thought your name was Meph—" he begins, his voice trembling as he looks between you and Sylus, but his words are abruptly cut off.

Sylus’s expression hardens instantly, the playful amusement evaporating as he glares down at Reese with pure disdain. His eyes darken, the malice in them palpable as he takes a step toward Reese, who shrinks back, trembling.

"Don’t talk to her," Sylus snaps, his voice cold and sharp, dripping with venom. The possessiveness in his tone is undeniable, a clear warning that Reese’s mere presence, let alone his attempt to speak to you, is unforgivable in Sylus’s eyes. The tension in the room grows suffocating, the danger swirling around Sylus like a storm barely contained, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his protectiveness—both unsettling and strangely reassuring.

Mephisto caws again, the shrill sound echoing through the room as if punctuating Sylus’s command.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground. Your head spins, barely able to process what's going on here. You suddenly feel dizzy, as if the room was getting smaller and smaller.

You hadn't truly escaped from him. Not once, the entire time you had been gone. He had been watching. His influence here stretched farther than you could ever imagine.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground, clearly too terrified to challenge Sylus any further. His presence becomes insignificant in the midst of everything else crashing down around you. Your head spins, the room seeming to close in on you as the weight of the situation presses against your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe, as if the air itself is suffocating you. You try to steady yourself, but a dizzying realization takes hold.

Every step you’d taken, every move you thought was yours alone—he had been watching.

Mephisto.

Sylus had seen everything, every moment you thought you were free, unraveling in front of your eyes now like a cruel illusion. His influence, his reach—it stretched farther than you could have ever imagined.

The invisible leash you thought you’d slipped off, the one you were so sure you'd broken, had never left your neck at all. It had been there the whole time, just waiting to tighten when he decided.

Your pulse quickens, panic settling in as the walls seem to close in tighter, the room shrinking around you. The thought of being watched, controlled, all while you believed you had any autonomy—it sends a cold wave of dread down your spine. Sylus’s smirk, the way he speaks so casually about it, only amplifies the feeling that you were never really out of his grasp.

He knew. He always knew where you were.

And here he stands, calm and possessive, like he’s merely reclaiming what was his all along.

The weight of it all becomes too much to bear, and your legs give way beneath you. You crumble to the floor, feeling as though the world has closed in around you. The realization sinks deeper, suffocating you with the cold, hard truth—despite all your efforts, all your fighting, you’re right back where you started. The leash had never been cut. You hadn’t escaped. And now, the path ahead is one you thought you'd left behind.

Your body trembles, you let out a sob, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions—fear, frustration, resignation. But before the panic can fully take over, you feel a hand brush against your shoulder, light and reassuring. Sylus crouches down beside you, his presence filling the space, his voice low and deceptively soothing.

"Shh, kitten," he murmurs softly, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a caress, though it only twists the knife deeper in your chest. "It’s alright. I’ve found you, its okay." His tone is affectionate, but there’s something twisted lurking beneath the surface, a dark possessiveness wrapped in that comforting voice.

"You're mine again," Sylus whispers, his voice soft but laced with an iron-clad certainty. His fingers delicately trace small circles on your back, sending involuntary shivers up your spine. You don't look at him, unable to meet his eyes. Your chest tightens, and you can feel the threat of tears building, teetering dangerously close to spilling over.

As much as you wanted to leave this wretched place, to escape the nightmare of it all, the thought of being trapped with him—completely under his control—felt just as suffocating. Maybe more. Yet, despite that suffocating feeling, your body betrays you. You’re not pulling away from him. You’re not resisting.

Why weren’t you leaning away from him right now?

"Don't cry," he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your skin, drowning out the cold, damp air of the basement. "Not now. Not in front of them."

Before you can process his words, the room fills with a new, horrific sound. Reese and the bleeding man on the ground suddenly scream, the agony ripping from their throats. Red tendrils of mist swirl violently around their bodies, coiling like snakes ready to strike. The sound of broken bones echoes sharply through the space as Reese is slammed into the back wall next to his fallen comrade, the impact brutal, unforgiving. The sight sends a fresh wave of horror washing over you.

You instinctively shift your gaze toward the carnage, wanting to see what’s happening—but Sylus’s hand shoots up, his fingers gripping your chin firmly. With a gentle yet unyielding force, he turns your face back to him, refusing to let you look anywhere else but into his crimson eyes.

"Look at me," he commands softly, his tone dark but calm, as if the violence behind you was nothing but a trivial distraction. His fingers are warm against your skin, his touch disturbingly tender despite the chaos around you.

"Your tears, your pain, your misery," Sylus whispers, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy as his hand moves gently to your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that hasn’t yet fallen, his touch both tender and terrifying. "It all belongs to me."

His crimson eyes lock onto yours, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice. He leans in closer, his bourbon cologne enveloping your senses, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating.

"I’m the only one," he murmurs, his voice a possessive, almost dangerous softness, "who gets to see you cry."

The declaration sends a chill down your spine, and your heart clenches at the weight of it. There's a dark finality in his words—a twisted claim over every ounce of your suffering, every emotion that was once yours, now his to control. The room feels smaller, the air thinner, as if everything in this moment is solely for him, as though the very act of your tears belongs to him and him alone.

You can feel the tears threatening again, but now even that feels like giving in to him—another part of yourself slipping through your fingers, taken by the man who holds you so tightly in his grip, both physically and mentally. And as his thumb lingers on your cheek, his gaze never wavering, you realize just how much he's wrapped himself in every aspect of your life.

The screaming in the room builds to a deafening crescendo, filling every inch of the space with the sounds of agony. Reese’s voice cuts through the chaos, desperate, pleading.

“Please, make him stop! Ask him to stop!” Reese begs, his voice cracking, raw from pain and terror. His broken body trembles against the wall, red mist still coiling around him like a vice, squeezing the life out of him with every passing second. He looks at you, eyes wide, desperate, his fear palpable.

"I-I helped you! R-remember? I'm sorry!"

For a moment, you hesitate, frozen in place, the weight of his suffering tugging at some distant part of your conscience. Should you take pity on him? The thought flickers briefly in your mind. But then you remember. The lies, the manipulation, how he had dragged you into this nightmare without a second thought. Your heart hardens.

You look at him, your voice cold and unwavering.

“Go to hell, Reese.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and final. Reese’s eyes widen in horror, but before he can speak another word, Sylus moves with a calm, terrifying ease. Without a second thought, he reaches into his coat, pulling out a sleek black pistol. The room falls eerily silent for a brief second, the chaos holding its breath.

And then, without a word or hesitation, Sylus points the gun at Reese and pulls the trigger.

The shot rings out, and Reese’s body goes limp, his head lolling to the side as blood pools beneath him. The life drains from his eyes in an instant. The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of what just happened settling heavily in the air.

You stare at the scene in shock, unable to fully process how quickly it had all happened. Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing as you look to Sylus. But he simply shrugs, completely unfazed, his expression calm and even slightly amused.

“I sent him to hell, just like you said, sweetie,” Sylus says casually, tucking the pistol away as if nothing had happened. His voice is smooth, disturbingly nonchalant, like this was just another task to cross off his list. His eyes, however, flicker with something darker—satisfaction, perhaps, or just a quiet thrill at doing what he believed you wanted.

Your stomach twists, a mixture of shock and disbelief churning inside you. Sylus turns his gaze back to you, his smirk still present, as if waiting for your approval or reaction. You say nothing, just watching as Reese's once lively body slumped to the floor.

Sylus then turns his attention to the last man still clinging to life, his crimson eyes narrowing with cold calculation. Without a word, the red mist surrounding him begins to swirl, thickening and intensifying with an ominous hum. The tendrils of mist snake their way toward the man, wrapping around him like a tightening noose.

The man’s breathing becomes erratic, desperate gasps for air as his body convulses. He tries to scream once more, but no sound escapes his throat as the mist constricts further, crushing the last remnants of life out of him. His limbs jerk, his eyes wide with terror as the pressure grows unbearable.

Sylus watches with a dark, detached satisfaction, his hand slightly raised as if guiding the mist with an almost casual precision. Then, Sylus clenches his fist. And with a final, sickening crack, the man’s body gives way. The force of Sylus’s power snaps through him like a vice tightening too fast. His chest caves in, bones splintering as the red mist crushes him entirely.

A grotesque splatter erupts as his body meets the tiled shower wall behind him, his carnage painting it in violent shades of red. Blood and tissue streak down the wall, dripping in a slow, macabre trail, the remnants of his existence.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat at the brutality of it all, but Sylus remains calm, lowering his hand as the mist dissipates, his expression indifferent to the destruction he’s caused.

"Sorry," Sylus says smoothly, his tone as casual as if he had just finished a routine task. His gaze slides back to you, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "I didn't want them breathing the same air as you any longer."

The room is deathly silent now, save for the slow drip of blood from the walls, and the overwhelming finality of it all settles in your chest. You can't tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene, the shock numbing your senses as Sylus steps in front of you, his presence once again wrapping around you like a suffocating mist. His dark eyes bore into yours, a predator sizing up its prey, his calmness only amplifying the terror that gnaws at the edges of your mind.

You flinch as the squelch of his shoes on the blood-soaked floor breaks the silence, your heart pounding in your throat. Every instinct tells you to run, but your legs refuse to obey, frozen in the icy grip of fear. Sylus tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile.

"Woo hoo! Boss is so cool!" Luke chimes in, his bubbly voice shattering the eerie stillness. He gives Kieran a high five before erupting into a fit of laughter. The contrast between his cheerful tone and the grotesque scene feels jarring, almost surreal. You glance at him, baffled by the carefree attitude, as if the carnage before him was nothing more than an impressive show.

He bounces on his feet, voice shrill with admiration as he watches Sylus with the same excitement one might have for a favorite hero. The dissonance is unsettling, pulling you deeper into the spiraling nightmare, where the boundaries between reality and madness blur with each passing second.

Sylus doesn’t react to Luke’s enthusiasm, his focus entirely on you.

Sylus, now visibly more at ease after the extermination of the two men, steps forward with a calm confidence. His eyes never leave yours as he crouches down and effortlessly grabs you from the floor, hoisting you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing. The abruptness of it sends a jolt through your body, and you instinctively try to push away, but his grip only tightens—firm, yet almost playful, like a cat owner gently restraining a stubborn pet.

His chest rumbles with a low chuckle, and when he speaks, his voice is laced with dark amusement. "Ah ah, I won’t let my kitten scatter off a second time."

Your body begins to tremble uncontrollably in his arms, the weight of the situation finally crashing over you like a wave. You had escaped—however briefly—and now you were trapped again. The suffocating inevitability of it wraps itself around you, a crushing reminder that there was bound to be a punishment for trying to flee. Your mind flashes with memories of him slicing open your arm, the cold, detached precision of it, and you wince as the old wound aches in response.

"Please... I'm sorry," you whine, your voice barely above a whisper as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Don’t hurt me again, don’t punish me."

Sylus tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes watching you with that unsettling mixture of amusement and something that borders on tenderness. "Sweetie, it’s okay," he whispers, his tone disturbingly gentle. He reaches up to brush a bit of dirt from your face, his fingers cold against your skin. "Do you really think I’m going to hurt you? Am I that scary?"

Despite the soft cadence of his voice, the dissonance between his words and the twisted affection in his gaze only amplifies your fear. He holds you securely as he begins to ascend the stairs, leaving the bloodied carnage in the basement to rot, a gruesome memory that would never wash away.

As you both make your way out of the metal hatchet you spot various bags filled with small white powdery substances settled on the couch and tables.

Drugs. Reese had been tricking girls and trading them for drugs.

The air grows cooler as you pass through the broken, dingy living room and out into the crisp, suffocating night of the N109 Zone. With a shrill caw, and a flatter of his wings, Mephisto takes flight and disappears into the night sky.

A dark car with blacked-out windows waits for you at the curb, its ominous presence sending your heart racing again. You think about making a run for it—just for a fleeting second—but that hope vanishes as the twins scatter hurriedly to the front seats, and Sylus pushes you both into the back with an effortless shove.

The car roars to life, and the world outside begins to blur as you realize the inevitable: you were headed back to your cage, the one you had fought so desperately to leave. Sylus keeps you firmly straddled on his lap, his grip unyielding, as if he thought you’d vanish into the night if he let go for even a moment. His eyes, sharp and predatory, stay locked on you, unblinking and watchful.

For a while, the only sound is the hum of the engine as it cuts through the night, the silence between you as suffocating as his hold. Then, suddenly, Sylus lets out a long sigh, breaking the quiet as he leans forward, his face burying into the curve of your neck. The unexpected closeness makes your skin prickle. He nuzzles into your skin like a bird seeking warmth, though you doubted you smelled like anything but blood and grime.

"I missed you," he whispers, his voice soft but strained, as though it carries a deep weight of worry. He shifts, tilting his head up to look at you, his gaze surprisingly gentle, like someone gazing at something precious. His eyes search yours, a strange vulnerability flickering behind the usual cold dominance. "So, so much."

Something tightens in your chest at the sight of him looking at you this way, as though you were his treasure, something he had longed for. The sincerity in his expression shakes you, confusing your thoughts even further. Could he possibly mean it?

"Did you miss me?" he asks, his lips curling into a small, almost playful smile.

You just stare at him, uncertain how to respond. The words lodge in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn your head away, avoiding his eyes. The truth is, you don’t know what to feel. Had you missed him? Or were you just desperate to be saved, no matter who?

He chuckles softly at your reaction, resting his head gently against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. "It’s okay," he murmurs. "You don’t have to answer."

As the car speeds deeper into the dark, your mind begins to spiral, thoughts tangling into knots you can’t unravel. As his arms tighten around you, keeping you pinned in place, you ponder a persistent thought.

Sylus had said he wouldn’t hurt you—but he never said he wouldn’t punish you.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

First, love the dark Lucifer Vampire story! And I love how treats Adam like a pet. So, here's what I have you:

Prince! Adam x Warlord! Lucifer (yes he would be dark and treat Adam like a glorified pet. Adam would grow to like it but at first, he's embarrassed as hell. He's given to Lucifer as his prisoner to stop him from attacking the kingdom of Heaven. Adam tries to fight it but he's forced into it by his mother, Sera, against his will. Lilith will be dead in this, died during childbirth, and Charlotte is just as ruthless as her father. Lucifer sees Adam as his pet for the most part but later on, decides he'd make a good bride. He's submissive and does what he's told. Perfect. Adam slowly falls in love with him and Lucifer will follow slowly after. Adam's personality would basically be shy but easily moved to tears due to his low self-esteem. Sera treats him like a waste of space and much prefers her daughter, Emily.)

XxX

Prince Adam couldn't believe what he was hearing from his own mother. He had been dragged from his room by guards, no yelling would get them to stop, and he was brought before his mother, Queen Sera of the kingdom of Heaven. She looked down at him with a glare like she normally would.

"Adam. The invaders have come to a decision." Adam had a bad feeling about this. Emily refused to look at him but she did look bored to be here. She was always bored, even when their mother was hurting Adam. But, this whole situation leaves Adam with a bad taste in his mouth and the guards forcing him to kneel didn't help either.

"Adam, you will go with them as...collateral to keep them away from our borders. They've requested a prisoner and me and Emily certainly couldn't leave Heaven to its own devices. That leaves you."

No. No! This couldn't be happening! Adam was to be a prisoner?! To some tyrant, they call The Devil?! He felt tears fall onto the floor as he begged, "Please! There has to be—"

Sera simply scoffed. "Cease you're crying. Honestly, a man shouldn't be crying this much but I guess you never met the criteria of a man, did you?" Adam flinched, hurt once more by her words. Emily let out a chuckle but she didn't say much of anything. She never did. She saw Adam like one would a fly. Annoying but completely forgotten when out of the room.

He was bound in chains and gagged before being put in the dungeons to wait until after the kingdom celebrated getting out of war. They would throw a feast for the tyrant and his daughter, they would take their prisoner and leave. The war over and Adam gone. Two birds with one stone.

Queen Sera prepared the most magnificent feast they could and just in time. The Warlord and his daughter were here. He walked in like owned the place, his regal cape flooding behind him. His daughter, taller than him by a head, walked beside him, her cold eyes gazing at everything in disgust. Their palace was much better.

"Ah, if isn't the Queen." The Warlord said, smirking at her. There was a reason they called him The Devil. The birth name given to him was Lucifer. His daughter, Charlotte Morningstar, looked just smug, her red eyes dancing with mirth at the fact everyone seemed afraid of them.

She was known to keep a plethora of women at her side that she used as her pleasure. She took care of them in her opinion and they all loved being her pets, but it was amusing to see all of them, especially the women, terrified that she would seduce them and use them like a pet.

They weren't worthy of that.

"Shall we eat?"

I love all of this so much!! @beef-brisket @fanofstuff01 @kittenfangirl20 I need of rp of this yesterday lmao

-

Adam sat down in the cell, his eyes wet as he couldn't stop silently crying as he could hear the celebration going on upstairs. They were celebrating him being given to a ruthless Warlord as a pet, a slave in every sense of the word.

He was supposed to be a Prince, yet he was treated no better than the dead rat in the corner that was rotting away. Soon that would be him, The Devil will likely torture him for the rest of his days and use him any way possible.

Adam felt another tear fall from his eyes, he was a virgin so the thought of the only time he'd be having sex........ It broke his heart that he would never be loved by anyone.

His father loved him before he passed away from being sick. Adam wished he was still alive, surely he wouldn't let his mother do this.

His mother didn't love him, Adams not sure she ever did. His sister seemed indifferent towards him. He didn't know what he did to make them not want or love him.

No one loved him, no one ever would. Adam was never going to be happy ever again.

His eyes stayed locked down on his bound hands. Was this what awaited him down South in the car country of Hell? To be thrown in the dungeon, bound and gagged, only to be fed enough to live. To know only pain and suffering from this day on. Maybe the Warlord will take pity and make Adams death quick and painless.

And maybe Adam will grow wings and fly away.

[propheticbride]

Lamb to Slaughter I

𐙚 Following Aegon's crowning of King, you attempt to settle into your new reality, with absolutely idea of what is happening around you. Your only company? The one eyed Prince himself.

𐙚 Aemond Targaryen x Reader (tw: manipulation, slight non-con, incest)

The nights following Aegon’s coronation were chaotic, whisperings of Rhaenyra’s claim lay about plainly as others argued the whore was not the rightful heir after all. Doors remained closed tight, no one talked too loud, servants kept to themselves. War was brewing, that was for certain.

You remembered the night your father died, your mother had snuck into your room and had gently woke you up. Cradled you as she gave you the news, you being the only Viserys doted on after Rhaenyra. And in some sick way, Alicent was sure you were her favorite too.

At first you did not comprehend how he was dead. He was not in good health, but to die so suddenly had left you confused.

‘My sweetling, he was not well. You saw. So weak, so poor in health.’ she spoke as she pet your hair.

Tears caked your face, hair matted to your skin, ‘I just don't understand.’

She sighed, ‘My poor girl.’

When Alicent had left that night, you had felt a void inside. Heartbroken and scared at the news. You found yourself in a familiar place, slipping out of your own chambers and into Aemonds. You wouldn't bother Aegon at that hour, him too drunk to even wake or want to comfort you. So instead you slipped into your more understanding brother’s space, the one who gently held you when you were scared and kissed you so gently.

But now, everyone's attention had been guided to Rhaenyra and her war. Everyone in the keep insisting she would come with fire and blood. And where you would seek Aegon’s affections, it would now be shunned upon. He was married after all, with two children and now king. He could no longer lie in bed and keep you entertained with his flea bottom stories.

✮⋆˙

“He's too busy now brother, too busy for me.” you complain, stitching at Aemond’s ripped attire. “He drinks a lot, I know this. But never stops by my chambers anymore. He must be so occupied with being king.”

Aemond doesn't reply, just makes an agreeing sound as his one eye watches you sew.

“How is Helaena? I know you two spend time together, she will not speak to me either. I wish she would, I get so lonely.”

“I talk to you.” Aemond reminds you.

You nod, giving him a gentle smile, “You’re always so good to me brother.”

His hand finds your arm, gently rubbing you to calm you.

“No one tells me anything. It’s…” tears form in your eyes.

“My love…”

“No!” you slam his arm away, getting up and begin to pace. “You are not to call me that! You are gone for days, on that beast you claim to be a dragon. Mother will not come visit me, Aegon has completely shunned me. Cole will not look at me and my dear sister will not speak to me. I am going insane in my room. Please. Please, what is happening?”

Aemond studies you for a moment, as if he were examining your outburst.

“I’ve never known you to yell. At all people, me.” he finally speaks.

It hurts you. The pain that settles in your chest after his words are enough to make you sick.

“I did not mean-” you return to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Please forgive me. I cannot stand if you are mad at me. I am losing my sanity. I'm so lonely.”

“Am I not enough to keep you happy?” he questions.

“I miss our mother, and our brother.” you admit. “When father was alive I wasn't so…lonely.”

“Because he kept you company.”

“I just want Aegon to visit again. Or mother. Or even Haelena. Please just ask them. Ser Kavvin does not let me leave ever. It’s like I am a prisoner.” it’s almost as if you were praying to the gods. Gentle and begging. Please please please.

Aemond is silent again, until he rises and kisses your head, “I’ll tell mother and brother to visit you my sweetling, it must be so awful for you to be cooped up in here, I am sorry Vhagar has my interests as of late. My priority has always been you.”

You beam at his words, the remembrance of your outburst a memory it seemed. Although the court was terrified of Aemond, you were not. Perhaps some of you was, but he was gentle and sweet to you, you almost had no reason to be scared. He took care of you, bringing you jewelry and new gowns, dining with you in place of your mother. He was the only human interaction you had gotten as of late, everyone else so preoccupied with Aegon.

“Is it?” you ask. Out of place, and you know it, but you cannot help yourself.

“I always thought we’d marry. Aegon had Haelena, but who has you, but me.” Aemond begins to cup your face. “I enjoy our time together, but there are matters I must attend to this afternoon. But don't worry, I will have mother or Aegon visit you.”

You struggle to understand his words, “What do you mean. Have me?”

He smiles and shakes his head, giving you a kiss on the lips before finding himself out of your chamber.

✮⋆˙

If anything Aemond does well, it's keep a promise. As he said, Alicent finds herself in your chambers a little after nightfall. She had maids run you a hot bath, your white hair gently slipping through her fingers as she brushed it.

“Why haven't you visited me?” you finally ask after too much silence.

“Aegon is being prepared to finally rule, I have been attending to it.” she says. “I am sorry, I haven't seen to you. I do feel bad.”

“Why must I be confined to my chambers.” you turn to her, violet eyes looking up at her.

“I do not trust…” she tries to collect her thoughts, not sure how to word it for you to understand best. “Aegon thinks it’s best if you are under protection. He thinks you might be a target for Rhaenyra’s anger.”

“Rhaenyra.” you say your sister’s name. “Rhaenyra is upset that father replaced her as heir?”

“Yes my sweet. She is upset that your father changed his mind about the succession. He decided he wanted Aegon on the throne after all.”

“I miss him.” you say after a while. “He was very sick…but he kept me company.”

“I am sorry, I am. I know it is no excuse but you must forgive and understand how daunting this has all been. So much has been done and needs to be done, the realm may be at war soon-”

“At war?” you interject, worry in your tone. “War? Why war?”

Alicent catches herself, she has slipped.

‘Do not mention the mess with Rhaenyra to her, I would not have her worry’ Aegon’s voice played in her head.

“No war my sweet, I only forget myself. I am sure Aegon will come to peace with Rhaenyra, and maybe she will even be seen back in the keep. You’d like that, right? I know you were fond of her son, Jacerys, I know you two were close.” Alicent goes back to braiding your hair, scared her words have put unrest in you. You did scare rather too easy.

“I don't want anyone at war.” you murmur.

“No war.” Alicent nods. “Aegon will be a good king, and make peace. I know it.”

✮⋆˙

If you were honest, you were close to Jacerys, spending time in the garden together and studying. Rhaenyra had taken a liking to you, mostly due to your shared father also taking a liking to you. You were not close with Lucerys, you did not know him well. You did not spend time with him nor were you very thoughtful towards him. No time truly spent between you.

So news of his death broke the in the red keep, you found yourself indifferent. No tears were shed, but your heart hurt for Jacerys.

Aemond had returned from dragon back, Aegon so delighted of his brother's victory, the murder of a child, that a feast was thrown. You were allowed in your finest green silk and finally allowed out of your chambers, where you sat among several counsel members and your family along with some court attendees. Aemond had been silent for most of the feast, ignoring the praise he had received, most of them insults for Rhaenyra. You watched him closely, hoping, begging he would make eye contact with you. But he did not.

For hours it went on like this, Aemond slowly sipping and eating at the feast presented in front of him, not truly present at the party that was all for him and his victory.

Aegon, ever drunk, was quite present. Too present.

“My sweet sister!” his voice calls, and you turn to him. “Where have you been hiding?”

“My chambers, on your ruling.” you murmur.

“My ruling? Why would I ever…” he hiccups and slams himself down in the chair beside you. “I have missed you soooo much. Your absence has been noted, why do you scorn me so?”

His words don't make sense to you. Your mother’s words and now his, dancing in your head. You hadn't noticed, not truly noticed, until you briefly look at him, that Aemond is staring at you. For the first time in the entire night, he simply stares. But his gaze is far from comforting.

“I’ve been in my chamber, lonely.” you admit, looking back at Aegon.

“Well…I have missed you my girl, so much. It's so lonely…” he whispers the next part, “my bed… has been rather lonely.”

Aemond stands, everyone quickly glancing at him. He excuses himself from the table, with Aegon’s hand on you all you truly can do is watch.

“He’s upset” you mention.

“Ah yes. He’s been so moody since that business with the dragons. Don't know why though. They're all traitors. I’ll have all of their heads.” Aegon smells like alcohol, a smell you’re familiar with but still sensitive to.

“Aegon!” your mother’s voice rings. “I do wish you would not speak of such things with her, you know better.”

Alicent attempts to pull Aegon up from beside you, but he is quick to shove her away. You stand, shocked at the whole ordeal.

“I think I will head to bed.” you insist.

“I think that would be best, sweetling.” Alicent nods.

When you enter your chambers, you don't notice Aemond at first. He's facing the bookshelf, one your late father filled with stories of old and history. The one thing you both bonded over.

When you do notice him, it’s when you're half naked, pulling your sleeping slip on.

“Your skin is always so beautiful.” his voice startles you.

“Aemond!” you jump, clinging to your fur blanket, attempting to cover yourself.

“I've seen you already, have you forgotten me already?” you're not sure if he's as drunk as your other brother was, but his voice is calm and almost soothing.

“You should be in bed, the hour is late and I know you are upset.” you try to reason with him, knowing that when he is upset he is easiest to get to.

“But you always grant me so much comfort.” Aemond steps towards you, allowing his hand to cup your face, thumb lining your lips. “Do you remember the night I lost my eye. I was in so much pain. And you found me, alerted the guards to me. And that night, before we left, you let me in your bed for the first time. And we laid there together in peace.”

You watch his face as he talks, there's always been a certain amount of devotion you showed Aemond. That night you had found your cousins and him, screaming at the top of your lungs that alerted the guards to the situation. And he was not wrong. That night Aemond had been restless, in pain over his lost eye. Where your mother usually slept beside you, she had taken a leave of absence from your bed that night, allowing Aemond to replace her.

“You were always so sweet to me, where they laughed, you had always welcomed me. For dolls, for tea…for anything. So gentle. So kind.” Aemond sounds breathless, like he was praying.

“Aemond-”

“Shhhhh.” he licks your closed lips, causing you to gasp.

Aemond was always strict with the affection he gave you; always keeping his hands to himself, always to be careful that your mother did not catch a glimpse of how hungrily he would stare at you. But never this brazen. You did not know what to make of it.

“Please.” you beg. “We can't-”

“Can't what. You have no husband, and I have no wife. This is right. We were born to be together.” Aemond presses his forehead towards you. “Ever since that night I lost my eye, and you welcomed me so warmly into your bed I have wanted you since. Why won't you let me take you?”

“We can't…Aegon…he-”

Aemond’s face twists in anger, “Don't mention him! Do not speak of him!”

The outburst scares you, taking a step back and clutching your fur tighter.

“Drop it.” his face changes, as does his voice. His entire demeanor shifts. He unclips his cloak from his armor, letting the fabric fall to your chamber floor. “I said…drop it”

You drop the fur immediately, standing there almost bare for him. He looks over body, with a hungry gaze and a curious eye. Your slip was a thin silk, something your mother would die if she ever found you dressed in. But the sun had been hot as of late, and her nightgowns were too heavy. The several slips had been a gift of Aemond, now you had known why.

“I have waited years for you. Years for you to come to your senses of what I am to you. What you are to me. I am sick of waiting my sweet, I need you now. And I will have you now.” Aemond’s hands gently pull your slip down, allowing your naked body to be in full view for him. “You’re mine. You always have been. I just need to prove it to you."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Actions Speak

"Be Silent."

Those were the first words commanded to me by the High Dragon Prince of the South. He did not want to hear me. Did not want to see me. To even be forced to endure, my obnoxious, insignificant, human presence. Any more then he absolutely had too. If it weren't for the fact that I had magic? He likely would have preferred to have me killed.

Just like the others.

I was a prisoner of war. One, which? I had no choice but to take part in. Had been drafted, by the humans. Only to be captured, by the dragons. All I had wanted? From my second chance at life? Was to live quietly. Study magic. Enjoy what I could not, before. Instead? I got warfare. Fear. The constant threat of death.

They needed me to open confidential human intelligence. Reverse engineer defenses and weapons. My safety and quality of life? Depended entirely on my compliance. And? If those reports and devices happened to be trapped to hell 'n back? By Mages FAR more skilled then myself?

Do it anyway. You are replaceable. Either you succeed... or you die.

You... hah... y-you really...

Really can say, I guess, n-now I know...? That...

That you really DO learn faster, under fire. Enduring pain curses. Fighting lethal curses, for your very life. Fire and drowning attacks. Lightning. Wind spells meant to choke the life of out of me, by sucking out all the air from my lungs. They... they really were creative, weren't they? My old colleagues.

Yes, sadistic, in ways I had never imagined. But also? Very, very creative.

I had the scars to prove it now.

All the while, as commanded, I did not talk. Did not DARE. Still do not. Even as I am shoved around. Dragged from tent to tent, building to building. Hurried along, like an inconvenience. A faulty, inefficient, piece of machinery, that dares eat their food and breathe their air. Slow and lagging, but sadly? Oh, sadly. They could not find better.

But I endure. Survive. I do not talk, so I can not offer. I give them nothing more then they demand. Malicious compliance. Nothing more, nothing less, then EXACTLY as you commanded, oh Wardens mine. My Keepers, foul and wretched. The holders of my chains. Someday... someday, this war will end. Or I will die, my luck running out, at long, long last.

And I?

I Will Be Free.

Once, long before this all, I had heard rumors. They say that talented humans, magically gifted humans, tended to be kept as glorified, pampered little pets, in the Vampiric lands. It... it sounds nice, now. To worry for nothing. To be protected. Adored and provided for, like some exquisite house cat, lounging in the sun. I could study again. Find someone nice.

....I worry.

You see, I... I think...

I may be breaking, around the edges of myself. Hairline fractures, born of stress. It's the isolation. Surrounded as I am. None of them are human, none of them will talk to me, at me. Anything at all. They follow the lead of their Prince. And he? Oh, he has made his distain for humanity clear.

Which begs the question. Why is he here?

Or rather, why am I? Dragged, from the ratty little cloth hovel they call "my tent", by the worn and patched to incoherence cloak I now wear, straight to the central command tent. Where the Prince is. The generals. The beating heart of the army itself. Dumped on the ground at his feet, I was fully expecting that to be it. That this would be the day.

They had found a better, less worn down, mage. A stronger one. A more obedient one. My services would no longer be... required.

I sat there. In the dirt. Eyes locked on his feet and waited. Palms splayed against the floor. Why bother fight? If I did THAT, they'd use me as "an example" for the NEXT mage. No. No, better to go quick. I had been reborn once. T-there was a possibility... however small... it... it might? Happen again?

Please, Gods. Please Gods, let it happen again.

But no. I was told, with judgment in his voice, by some general, to "get up". Ha! As though they were not directly responsible for my beaten down state. How dare. How DARE he judge me? I owed them nothing. Refused to die, in some short sighted tantrum of honor or pride.

I would LIVE, damn it. I MUST live. For how ever long I could. I wanted to be free again. To read and travel, do magic for magics sake. Never... NEVER see another dragon again.

Perhaps that was hateful. But damn it... I... I was so tired.

Nonetheless, I stood. Looked at no one and said nothing. Just an empty, ragged cloak with flesh inside. I am not here. I do not suffer. Unfocus your eyes and be far away. Yes, that's right, I tell myself, far... far away. It's like meditation. Just... ride the flow of magic. Do not call it. Merely observe. Let the colors drag you in. Be washed away. Far, far away.

I hear and do not hear, there. See and do not see. They can not touch me, can not hurt me, there is nothing and everything, in the Magics. It is... so... so BeAuTiFuL.

No wonder so many are lost. Drift and never come back.

I play a dangerous game, here.

But they can not hurt me.

No one can.

In here.

No answer comes then. But I am expected to work. Perhaps it is a show? Or they wish to verify, that I am indeed, doing what they keep me alive for. Nonetheless, I sit, in the corner, silent as I got to work. As old colleagues try to stop my heart, freeze my blood, rupture my organs. As burns roar over my skin and lightning crackles against canvas walls.

I do not scream. That would be too close to "speaking". I am not fool enough to give them an excuse. There is a belt I can bite. I use it often. Will have to salvage another, as this one is falling to pieces. That and a silencing spell? My screaming is muted.

Getting better at healing magic, I think. Either I have learned to numb the pain or I may have nerve damage. I doubt, now, that I will ever win awards. For my beauty. Too many scars. My arms are a wreck. My hands a travesty. It is nothing short of a miracle, that I have not LOST any fingers, to this.

Why am I here? Why? Why?

At least in my little hovel, I can curl up and weep. Emote. Can take breaks between bouts of pain and battles of magic. But here? Like a machine, stacks are dumped before me, and I am expected to perform. Do or die, human. We can always find another.

Through it all, haunting golden eyes watch. My pain, my exhaustion, all observed, giving away nothing, by that impassive royal face. I don't know what he WANTS.

Finally, after weeks of considering me, he decides to tell me. Comes to some conclusion, no input required. Why would it be? Of course. He is a High Prince. His power is great, his honor and name without equal. Why would he need MY input on anything.

"Did I know," he asked me, voice ponderous and musing, "That of all the mages his people have captured... I had lived the longest?"

I had not. But it did not suprise me.

He sat, considering me, splayed back in his chair like it was a throne, every bit the picture of a royal. A portrait of the man he was born to be. But the distain... the distain? Had... lessened. Not gone. Never gone. Gods, no. We peons were beneath him. Especially I, a mere human. But? Apparently I was not longer quite so wretched.

Our dear High Prince decided I should get a better tent. A new cloak. Actual medical supplies. What wonders.

It made me nervous. What cost, did these things come with? What expectation? Loyalty? I had offered none and never will. That would quickly become a problem. Still, I kept my head down. Always, always, keep your head down. Let the dragons die, for their stupid fucking war.

No longer replaceable. I discovered.

In the next big attack, as there was ALWAYS a next one, I wasn't evacuated last. As attacks fell. But FIRST, as the soilders were arriving. I was... was "essential personal". Shoved in an evac cart with the fancy strategists.

They started deliberately capturing mage supplies. Books and spell papers, chalks and high quality inks. Not just to disarm their opponents. Oh no. But to give to ME. I had... I had NEVER gotten supplies. The last time I had actually, truely, desperately, needed ink? I had been forced to use my own blood.

My hands actually shook. Touching such richs now. It overwhelmed, after so long, with nothing. I... I had healing books. Could actually look things up!

Curling up, before the piles of crates they dumped in front of my little tent, I didn't care, if they saw me cry. On my knees like an acolyte before the alter. Finally. FINALLY! Answers, armaments, and supplies. Relief, after so long? Was rain on desert sands. Burned skin left tender and screaming, to the cleansing mercy, of the softly weeping skies.

This, too, the High Prince saw.

No where to store them, of course. A gift given then taken away. Held just out of reach. Just long enough to give hope. All the better to torment you with it. Oh where we would we store, your useless little trinkets, human?

But I refuse to play the game. Fine. Take them. Take it all.

I need nothing.

Retreat into the Magics. They can not hurt me. I am not here. Far, far away. I am far, far away.

The High Prince, lounging and watchful, seems to have decided. No. The human things will go to him, actually, not to the fire. He watches with strange, considering eyes. In fact? I will make my self useful. Show my gratefulness. He is using valuable storage space on me, so I am to come before him and study. Prove it is worth it.

Is he not gracious? Now press your face to the dirt in thanks, human. Bow and scrape. Be glad, be honored, that your Liege is so kind.

He does not disagree, as they tell me these things. Why would he? They are his due. I think... I think I hate him. Hate them all. But the pull of books, of proper supplies, is simply too powerful. Back to that wretched tent I go. Under the staring eyes that dissect me so. Finally, I can heal my aching body.

He watchs me. As I study, improve, learn and grow. As old books are taken from me, shipped away somewhere, beyond my reaching, and new ones arrive. I desperately make notes. Hope those notes will be enough. Work and suffer and bleed. Somewhere, in the camp, I sense others.

The come and go. Bright lights that flare and then dim. Struggling and struggling, before finally going out. Some faster then others. The objects and messages they have me working on now? Are truely nasty. Again and again, I see the crests of Nobel houses and royal seals. How powerful, I wonder, have I become? Or is it simply... specialized?

A gift, for not dying.

Over the camp walls, I have begun to recognize the surroundings. The mountains and the valleys. The trees, in bloom. It seems wrong, that the world should be so beautiful, as everything is ending. The nation I grew up in, is falling. But... but we passed Heartriver two weeks back. And THAT? Was well within the border.

And from HERE... I can see the school.

The University of Magics. All I had ever wished, was to return. But... but not like this, never like this. I'm... gods. Oh Gods, I'm sorry. For my weakness. For not choosing to die. For not running at all, before it all began. I should have. But... but I was a coward. And now everyone else, must pay the price.

I stand outside my pathetic little tent and watch the horizon smoke. Burn.

Dragons are so very, very fond of fire.

Far away... j-just go far away... the Magic will always take you. Is always kind. Towards the tent I go. I remind myself, as I force myself to move, one step in front of the other? That if the worst comes to worst? I can just... Let Go. Go DEEP. So deep that no one and nothing can ever find me again. So far away, my body forgets I ever lived at all.

Just... just a soul. Floating along like a jellyfish, in the beautiful Allthings. The light and void, the far away and gone. I-It wouldn't even hurt. Just be like... like letting go of a balloon. I could be that balloon. Disappear into endless starlight...

But... BUT! I wont.. I can't! Not yet. Not until every other path has burned. Last resort. Only, ONLY, as a last resort.

(I refuse to acknowledge... how comforting the knowledge is. That I have a plan at all. A way out.)

Entering the tent, I head for "my table". At the High Prince' feet like a dog. A lovely little carpet, comfortable little pillows, a low table to work on. It would... honestly? It would be a lovely place setting. A delightful workstation. If it were not the context. The obvious, blatant, demeaning context.

Sit at his feet and behave. Be good and you're rewarded, be bad and you're punished. Brought little treats at HIS command? Sit on a pillow, on the floor, as they talk over your head? Ha ha... I? I half expected to one day show up to find someone holding a fucking collar.

If they fucking tried? I was going to set everything on FIRE. Even I, had limits.

However, it was just the Prince and I. Uncomfortable, but I could ignore him. Walking for my humiliating little seat, I noticed him watching me. Slowed. Why... why was he watching me? Awkwardly I paused. Did NOT want to be kneeling in front of a man that was staring that intently at me. Especially not so closely to a man, staring like that. The vibes were... off.

"Did you know, pet, that we actually have several rather old alliances amoung the Vampiric Royal Houses?" He said, breaking the strange silence.

'Pet, huh? Good to know he's at least fucking AWARE. I did NOT consent to that!' I seethe, in my head.

"It's been bothering me, you see. Your wretched state." He continues, completely unbothered that he might as well be talking to a statue. I stare, seethe, would give a limb at this point, to set him on fire. "You've suffered unbearably and I've done nothing to correct it, even though I could. We needed you for the war effort, you see, but now? Now, pet, we're nearly done. And I can finally care for you properly."

"Reward you, properly." The bastard says, calm and oh so reasonable, as though I had anything to do with him willingly.

"Honestly, it's long over due. The second I realized I wanted you as Mine, I should have stepped up to care for you properly. Officially. But, sadly, it would have been a conflict of interest. An abuse of power. Now, however? Now I can finally call on our allies for their support. Get you the medical assistance you so badly require."

A pleased smile stole across his face as he considered me.

"You'll make a lovely vampire. It was selfish of me, to cheat you of the years turning you sooner would have given you, but I'm sure you'll forgive me with time. Our people needed us. I can swear to you now, pet, you will forever remain my favorite, even if I take a Queen."

Horror was like a gut punch, deliver by a fighter jet. I felt immediately and intensely sick. W-what? Frozen so completely I nearly forgot to breathe, I looked for ANY sign he may be joking. Exaggerating. But... but no. W-WHAT?? How. WHEN? At what point, in my torment? In my UTTER SILENCE? Did this man "fall in love"?!

H-How can you LOVE a women you've never-?! No. No, I KNEW how.

You decide you like the IDEA of them. The shape of their body. You project onto them your OWN narrative and decide it is a love story. Fuck. FUCK!! I was... this was... no no NO! I REFUSED. Like HELL was I could to live, trapped for DECADES if not CENTURIES, the pretty little war bride of a tyrant!

The High Prince gets up and walkes towards me. Sweeps me into terrifyingly powerful arms. When he smiles? There are fangs. Deadly and hardly the comfort he thinks they are. We are a laughable contrast. Richs and rags, power and prisoner, royal and the woman who might just burn the world to escape. Shit. SHIT. I was scared of him before.

And that's BEFORE he decided he loved me.

[dissvicious]

I wanted to do it for a moment, so here I am, ChainsawMetalKiller masterpost in chronological order.

♥ Shared canon with my beloved friend @wyvernslovecake, Shriek is Nina fluffy flying daughter ♥

Find everything on #ChainsawMetalKiller & #Chainsaw Metal Killer.

Nina master refsheet

⬇ MASTERPOST UNDER THE CUT ⬇ - contain the key events of the stories + some important silly stuff

you can follow #ChainsawMetalKiller #Chainsaw Metal Killer & #CMK for more updates

code : comic • illustration • text • illustration + text • silly strip

NINA BACKSTORY

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8

THE DATING ARC

How did Killer and Nina start dating

🔞 Killer & Nina's first time (commission by AKO)

🔞 How did Kid, Killer & Nina settled as a throuple ? (Part 1 • Part 2) (Commission by AKO)

Nina asking for a baby

Nina's diary - 1

Nina's diary - 2

Codependency

Catching feelings

THE PREGNANCY ARC

A special announcement

Mom of the year

Dad pool

Dad pool 2

First ultrasound

First ultrasound - 2

Killer's couvade

Baby moving

Baby shower

Nina body changing

Localicious

Pregnancy mood swings

How do boys prepare to be a father?

Delivery incoming!

Delivery 1/3

Delivery 2/3

Delivery - interlude (father reveal)

Delivery 3/3 + Ozzy refsheet

THE POST PARTUM ARC

Boyfriend of the month

Dad pool - the end

Polaroids

Daddy Ego

Killer & Ozzy

The crew babysitting

UH OH

Killer couvade - 2

anouncement

Pirates Prince

Facebook mom

Parenthood

🔞 Breastfeeding

my son is completely fine

chosing names

first words

birthday boy

THE WANO ARC

ACT I

Alone In wano [1/2]

Alone in Wano [2/2]

Law & Nina 1

Law & Nina 2

Ziggy

Family Reunion [1/2]

Family Reunion [2/2]

Oups

ACT II

Prison Break

Resentment

Oups (2)

♥ It's Alright ♥

THE ELBAF ARC

Coming soon!

MISC

Kid & Zap 1

Kid & Zap 2

Kid & Zap 3

Kid & Zap 4

Nina & Wire 1

🔞 Pet play

🔞 Nina & Wire 2

Nina VivreCard

🔞 Let's bang!

Nina changing their hair

The Barto x Nina situation

Halloween 2024

Nina in a dress

Beast pirates outfit

🔞 Nina & Wire final act (gift from @nethhiri ♥️)

Happy holidays 2024

Kid Bday 2025

[blorboazula]

I've been reading a bunch of Azula fics, I have three pet peeves (and they bother me a lot because I read "Azula-friendly" only).

Azula shot Iroh with lighting: she didn't. I've just watched one or those bending compilations and her shot even makes the fire noise. there's no crackling of electricity, there's not the whole bending movement she does for lighting.

the same goes for Mai, she was going to shoot fire. (it's not as if we see her shooting with two fingers multiple times...) fire is faster, she's good at it, that's a primary weapon.

sending the Kyoshi warriors, Ty Lee and Mai to prison is the worst thing she could have done. it makes sense to send Suki to the Boiling Rock, as it makes sense that Hakoda was there, they're the leaders. having prisoners of war is not a war crime. actually, war crimes ≠ acts of war. sending the Kyoshi warriors to prison after fighting them is exactly what you expect of people in a war.

Ty Lee and Mai committed treason on her face. that's not even about the betrayal, that's just a whole ass crime. that's the crown princess, the second most important person in the fire nation, literally the only one left to take the throne. if this wasn't a children's show, they'd have been executed before Azula could move again after being chi-blocked.

sure, being resentful about being in prison is fine, but if you don't want to go to prison, perhaps don't commit treason in front of the god-damned crown princess?

now, the worst of all: Azula always wanted to be Fire Lord.

Azula...

born fifth in the line of succession...

who has her grandfather, her father, her uncle, her cousin and her brother in front of her...

Azula always wanted to be Fire Lord.

you mean the kid that has abandonment issues?

not even counting that. after the whole shit with Lu Ten dying, Azulon dying and Ozai usurping the throne. she still has 1) her father in the throne and 2) Zuko as the crown prince. to want to be Fire Lord even then, when she's a lot closer to it, is making her want the people she loves the most to be dead or exiled.

even if you don't believe that she loves someone. why would she bring Zuko back home, restore him as the crown prince, if she wants to be Fire Lord? leave the guy there, betray him after he helped you, that would make more sense for a power-hungry secondborn daughter of the secondborn son than bringing your only competition to the throne.

I don't know where the idea that she always wanted the throne comes from, I just know it's stupid and doesn't fit anything in her show characterization

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

I've been thinking about yandere Malleus again and how well you wrote that scene out. ❤️ May I get another yan!Malleus but with corruption kink and size difference? (Over a foot's worth of size difference.) - Starlight

Why of course, Starlight~ I hope you enjoy this continuation of your previous request~

Title: Crime and Punishment (Continuation of The King's New Toy)

Characters: Malleus x m!Reader

Contains: Dark themes (Yandere), corruption, size difference, rough sex, restraints, stepping, overstimulation, orgasm denial, hand job, pet names (love, dear, pet, darling) we're back in Diasomnia's dungeon, double dick Malleus

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

"I can't believe my toy would try to run away..." Malleus slowly circled you, eying you like a predator hunting its fresh prey as his heels clicked against the floor.

You sat on your knees, head hanging down and wrists tied behind you. Your attire was ragged, holes and slipping off your body. You thought you looked like a prisoner of war, but Malleus saw the fruits of his efforts, or what he only thought were the fruits of his efforts. He saw a scared, trembling little human, a meek little thing. How dare you try to run away after all the kindness he has given you.

You didn't dare meet his gaze as you spoke. "M-Malleus, please I-I'm s--"

His steps stopped suddenly in front of you, and your body went cold. "Did I give you permission to speak, love?"

You shut up immediately, not even risking the answer.

"Good boy~" His steps resumed, the clicking sound of his heels returning. "You know...the reason why I keep you in this dungeon is so I can keep you to myself. I'd hate for any of the others to try to make a move on something that is mine."

You had opened your mouth to speak, but you were quick to shut it, remembering your place.

"I mean, I trust you." He paused, speaking and moving. "Or rather...trusted you." The prince's voice was laced with disappointment as green eyes glared down at your meek form, glinting in the dim room as he resumed his actions. "And here I thought about bringing you to my room, giving you a soft bed to sleep on while I was away, even giving you this lovely little collar that would decorate your delicate little neck."

This was all a game, a sick and twisted game for Malleus. He had left the cell door open on purpose, waiting to see how you'd react. Catching you outside of the cell, well...the rage he felt nearly sent him into overblot. Nearly. Luckily Lilia was there to calm him down, and he even helped restrain you and got you into position in the cell, forcing you to wait for the prince.

So you cursed yourself for being the slightest bit curious, though...part of you was sort of...excited right now.

"Do you have anything to say, dear? You may speak."

Despite the permission, the idea of speaking to Malleus almost felt like a sin itself, but this could be your only chance to speak while it was given to you.

"I-I'm truly sorry, Malleus. P-Please, give me another chance." Your head rose from its hanging position, meeting Malleus's narrowed gaze. "I-I swear to behave! I-I won't run again!"

Malleus was silent save for a small hum, stepping behind you once more. His silence felt deafening, seemingly more terrifying than a verbal response. He pressed his heel to your back, pushing you forward.

Before you knew it, your torso was on the ground, his heel gently pressing into your spine as your form now lay flat on the chilly dungeon floor. A strange chill washed over your body as the light pressure pinned you in place.

"...Do you think you're worthy of another chance, pet?" Your heart strangely wrenched from the name change, knowing well that he was not happy with your response. "I expected more from my toy than some half-hearted apology." As he got to 'half-hearted', the pressure of his shoe increased lightly, causing you to let out a silent, startled gasp.

"I-It wasn't half-hearted, I swear! I promise, I'll be good! I'll--!"

The pressure in your back increased once more. There was no pain, but the pressure certainly heated your body, causing you to shudder.

"Did. I. Give. You. Permission?" Malleus enunciated each word slowly, pressing gently into your back at every word. You hated to admit it but...it felt nice. This force of Malleus felt...nice.

Snapping you out of your taboo thoughts, you heard Malleus sigh as he released you from underneath him. The lack of pressure almost felt like a disappointment. He stepped in front of you, and you weren't able to see much, but when he forced your head up by your hair, putting you back to your knees, you could see angered green eyes narrowed in a domineering stare.

"It seems that you are still unaware of your place, dear. Shall we change that?"

---

Malleus had shackled each wrist on either side of your head, putting you in a position that forced you to stand, lest you decide to hang by your wrists. He admired his work, eying you up and down. His gaze felt like a pair of hands running up and down your body, and it didn't help that he made you strip prior, enhancing the feeling.

"Shackles are a nice look on you, love. Perhaps I should keep you in them more often~"

The prince slowly stepped forward, once again appearing like a predator. Honestly, if you could, you would kneel before him and beg for his forgiveness, because before, you never realized just how tall he is. The top of your head met the top of his chest. Basically, if he wanted to, he could rest his chin on your head. You truly felt small against him, and you were more than willing to grovel before the prince's presence.

But chains kept you from doing so, and even if you could, you knew Malleus would punish you for such a feeble act.

Black nails gently skimmed down your exposed arms before they found a place at your neck, gently pressing into your flesh. It wasn't enough to hurt, but the pressure kept you on guard.

"Now...I trust you can behave, yes?" When you failed to respond, Malleus simply chuckled deeply. "You may speak, dear."

"Y-Yes," you breathed as if you had been holding your breath from his touch. "I-I'll behave. I swear."

Not wasting a moment, Malleus grabbed your hips and lifted you up. Your eyes widened when you felt a hard object line your backside and another pressing against your own hardening shaft. You wrapped your legs around him to keep yourself up, but really, that was unneeded with the prince's strength.

"Should you prove yourself, darling, I will accept your forgiveness and even bring you up to my room as I originally intended." One of his hands left your side as he gently caressed your face, fingers carefully tracing your jaw. You leaned into his touch, melting against him. A dark chuckle left him, knowing his actions were slowly changing you. "Perhaps I could shackle your neck like a dog..."

The idea made your cock twitch, a soft whine unintentionally leaving you. The response did not go unnoticed with Malleus.

"Hmph~ How lewd of you, love. You like the idea of that, yes?"

You nodded, assuming such a response should be okay within Malleus. You'd be correct, as Malleus leaned forward to line your neck with a slow, teasing lick of his tongue instead of berating you in some way.

A soft mewl left your lips as you felt Malleus's hips adjust. His tongue stopped by your ear as he whispered darkly. "Let's get your punishment over with so I can keep my pet at my bedside~"

The pain of your ass stretching was enough to make you nearly black out. It didn't matter that his cocks were slick, they still ached when they entered, but you were thankful that it wasn't the first time he entered, as this time your ass was quick to adjust around such shafts.

"My...used to me already?" the prince teased in a breath, feeling just how tight you were around him. "Has your body been corrupted~?"

You weren't sure if it was or not, as you couldn't think straight at the moment. Malleus gave you permission to speak, stating that from now on you are free to answer him whenever he asks a question.

"I-I...I-I'm not sure...~" Your voice was coated with lust, your legs holding onto his waist tightly. "A-All I know is...I-I want you, Malleus...P-Please~"

One of his hands rested on your neck, the thumb tilting up your head to meet your gaze like you were a doll. "You desire me, love? Well, worry not. You will get me, but it may not be what you actually want." Keeping his hand in place, his forefinger extended up, his nail gently scraping down your cheek. "You will scream, you will cry, you may even beg me to stop, but my actions will not cease. You will learn to understand your place."

"M-Malleus, my love, I-I understand! I-I understand my p--place~!!"

You spoke after a statement, not a question, meaning Malleus took things back into control. He thrusted his hips, both his cocks sliding in and out of you at a rapid speed. The pleasure wrecked into you like a sack of bricks, and you swore you were about to suffocate from it. His movements felt so good, enough to cause you to dig your head into the wall behind you as you screamed in bliss. You called for Malleus, your prince, your love. You were quick to submit, your mind broken from all he had put your through before this. Before you tried to work with him, but now? Now you were just gone, willing to allow yourself to be his pet, his toy. You loved it. You loved him.

"M-Malleus~! F-Fuck~!" You tugged against the chains, as if trying to get away from the overwhelming pleasure, but the fae had his hands on your hips, keeping you firmly in place. There was no escape from the prince's onslaught of pleasure. He would be right: you would scream, you would cry, and yes, you even begged him to stop. You didn't want him to stop because you hated it, no. You wanted him to stop because it was too good. You were in heaven as tears rolled down your face, drool slipping from your lips from your mouth hanging open from the unforgiving pounding. Your cock ached with the desire to release, but at some point, Malleus had gripped the base, preventing you from cumming at all.

You were unsure of how long this lasted, but all you knew is that you didn't want it to end. Malleus had, indeed, corrupted you. You wanted him, you wanted more if possible. You wanted to be his favroite.

At some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. Your voice was hoarse as you spoke. "M-Malleus~! P-Please let me cum~! P-Please~! I-I wanna cum...f-for my king~!"

Your words seemed to intrigue him, his actions faltering for just a moment. "Y-You want to finish? Th-Then...tell me. What are you...going to do?"

You didn't miss a beat. "I-I'm gonna...be a good toy! I-I'll listen! I-I won't ever run...away again! I-I'll be a good boy! I-I promise! I-I promise, my king!" You had to force your voice out, struggling to even form coherent thoughts.

Malleus trusted you, and with that trust, he took his hand and kept the pressure of the grip as he rapidly moved his hand along your cock, jerking you off with no way to cum. You shrieked in ecstacy, thrashing against him as you begged for release. Your mind turned to mush as you wished for nothing more than to cum. When his hand loosened up, it was practically instataneous with his own release. As you shot out multiple ropes of white between you, Malleus's two shafts pumped its own set of thick, white liquid deep inside of you, some of it dripping out of you.

Panting softly, Malleus took note of this, sighing lightly. "Oh my...you're dripping my release onto the floor...what a shame." Removing his hand, Malleus licked whatever of your seed that landed on his hand, humming at your bitter taste. "When I relocate you, I'll have to make sure to acquire a toy that keeps whatever I leave inside of you."

You honestly weren't listening at this point. You were practically unconscious, your eyes half lidded as they gazed at nothing, your chest slowly heaving with air. You heard him, you just couldn't respond properly save for a delayed nod. Taking note of this, Malleus chuckled.

"What a good boy~"

[carriagelamp]

By and large I was very satisfied with my books from this month. Read some books that were Goofy As Fuck (affectionate) this month, as well as some excellent nonfiction

Beware of Chicken

I get to kick this month off by being a hater. I was really disappointed in this book. A friend completely loves the series and was convinced it was right up my alley, so I'd gotten it on really high recommendation. The concept is right up my alley (protagonist lives in a cultivation setting, decides he actually hates all the violence and fighting involved in cultivation and instead fucks off to become a farmer… however his rooster then becomes a cultivator in his stead, hilarity ensues!) but the execution… woof. This is the sort of parody that rubs me the wrong way, the sort that comes across as lazy and clumsy and too mean-spirited to be appealing. 

The main character is isekai’d (another trope I don’t love as a rule) and he is just… unpleasant. He is a very Standard OP Main Character where everything he does goes well and everyone loves and reveres him with no actual work put in. The way female characters are handled sucks. The only bits I really enjoyed was the rooster’s POV and even that began to feel repetitive pretty quickly. I did not finish this book, there are better options out there.

The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish v1

Now, speaking of better books that lightly parody cultivation and isekai stories: tada! This series is ridiculous. It is very very very stupid. The writing is nothing to (hurr hurr) write home about. And I have definitely fallen in love with it, it’s good-hearted and silly in a way that feels perfect right now.

The main character, Li Yu, wakes up in a webnovel setting but rather than in the body of a character he is… a fish. The mission he’s given is to become the “tyrannical” fifth prince’s beloved pet and help him become a better person than he was in the canonical story. This whole book is some Saturday morning TV slapstick nonsense and it rocks. Li Yu is trying to be Very Sneaky And Cunning and fails it at every possible step. He is very obviously Not A Fish... however it just so happens that his new master knows so little about fish or pets that he’s just shrugging and going along with things. I’m very much looking forward to continuing the series.

Escape from Incel Island

I was in a independent book store and this was sitting out on a shelf. I was physically incapable of walking by this and not buying it. So here we are. This is the most deranged little novella you could possibly ask for, and I read it out loud with my girlfriend (while waiting in traffic) and later with my brother. It’s impossible not to laugh.

This story follows Manslaughter Jones, ruthless mercenary, and Dr Morrison who have been sent to the notorious Incel Island to retrieve lost government data. Along the way they team up with a group of Nice Guys, need to fight their way through dangerous forests and hordes of enemies while surrounded by a continual and extravagant spray of blood. What sort of people who were lured to an island prison with the promise of their very own woman upon arrival? You'll soon find out! This is obviously a parody of online incel culture and guns-blazing action movies, with just enough societal commentary to make it feel worth reading.

Honestly, if you want a book that jumps the shark from page one and is unapologetic about it, it's a very fun read. Highly recommend finding someone with a sense of humour to read it aloud with.

The God & the Flightless Messenger

A cute little manga that I was gifted. It’s set on a mountain where gods come and go, inhabiting the various peaks. They’re cared for by winged messengers, who tend to their needs and ensure they aren’t contaminated with chaos. Shin is a messenger whose wings never grew in properly, who can’t fly and doesn’t have a god to serve — until now. He’s sent down to the lowest mountain peak where a strange, new furball-of-a-god has appeared, one that seems to not just attract chaos to it but which seeks it out…

An Illustrated History of Urban Legends

A very chill nonfiction book about different aspects of urban legends, from ghost stories to cryptids to aliens. Written for a younger audience in mind, this is mainly just an introduction to the concept, but it’s well-written with a reasonably skeptical bend that points out conspiracy theories plainly. As an adult I found it worth reading just to enjoy the art that fills every page!

Old Wounds

This novel was… fine. Erin and Max, two trans teens, are determined to drive west to California, where they can attend college and live a more open life than they do in their small hometown. Things begin to go wrong though when they find themselves stranded in rural America, surrounded by not just small town bigots but potentially something much more deadly in the woods.

This is billed as a fairly classic “townsfolk sacrifice outsiders to the local monster” type of story, which I enjoy, but it fell short on the actual horror elements. There was no point where I was actually scared or worried for their well-being — it was fairly obvious that these two were safely shrouded in plot armour. However the story itself wasn’t bad. If you’re interested more in an interpersonal drama with a dash of light peril and horror elements on the side, you might enjoy this. If you want something that’s actually scary, try something else.

The Poison Squad

Absolutely phenomenal nonfiction, contender for my favourite book this month. This book delves into the history of the American FDA, and looks at the absolutely nightmarish landscape that existed when companies were allowed to put whatever the fuck they wanted into food completely indiscriminately and without telling anyone about it. All those people who want unpasteurized milk? Wanna know how they used to preserve it long enough to ship to the cities? Fill it with formaldehyde and some chalk powder to make it look white. Enjoy!! There was something very satisfying about watching such a dedicated fight for stricter regulations and consumer protection, mixed with just enough horror at what was being shoved into foods.

It has since been making me side-eye both a) food, and b) absolutely anything that tries to weaken governmental food regulations. Considering the political landscape, it really just makes this book all the more worth reading. On top of the fascinating topic, Deborah Blum has a very enjoyable, narrative writing style that makes it a very easy and enjoyable read (coming from me, who isn’t overly fond of nonfiction in general).

The Poisoner’s Handbook

After finishing Poison Squad I wanted to read more by Deborah Blum and found this. You can definitely see how Poison Squad grew out of the initial research that must have gone into The Poisoner’s Handbook. This nonfiction book is set during the Jazz Age, all around the time of Prohibition, and follows Charles Norris who becomes New York’s first appointed Chief Medical Examiner who pioneers the field of forensic medicine. He plays a pivotal roll in showing how rigorous scientific testing can be used to discern toxicity in humans, solve crimes, protect innocent people from wrongful accusations, and campaign for better safety regulations of poisonous substances. Not quite as well-written as Poison Squad imo, but a very compelling topic.

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes

Read in honour of Rememberance Day. This is a book I vaguely remembered reading in elementary school, and decided to revisit. It’s just a tiny little chapter book, about a twenty minute read if even, but it hits hard. I remember sobbing as I read it as a kid, and I didn’t fare much better as an adult. It’s a fictionalized account of a real Japanese girl, Sadako, who was born just after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. It follows her eventual diagnosis with leukemia and the slow death that follows. A very powerful anti-war story, superb if you want to traumatize any young children in your life ♥

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System v4

The final book of the Scum Villain Self-Saving System series, though the main story concluded in book 3. This book was entirely filled with additional “bonus stories” and honestly it’s just convinced me that more series should do this. There was something really fantastic about getting to neatly wrap up the series in book 3, but then still having some extra adventures, both pre-, mid-, and post-canon. Some of my favourites included the story that focused on side characters Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun and how their relationship evolved over the course of the series, some additional lore for my boy Zhuzhi-Lang, as well as a very amusing “de-age” story in which Luo Binghe finds himself in a child’s body though with all his usual memories and feelings. Shen Qingqiu has to deal with a pseudo-toddler who is capable of wholesale destruction — one who Is Not Happy about being mistaken for Shen Qingqiu’s child, and who wants people to stop propositioning this “single father” already, he is right here!!! These stories were mostly fun and silly with a few heart-wrenching ones mixed in for good measure.

The Swiss Family Robinson

A children’s classic that I’ve always meant to get around to. It was published in 1812??? I had no idea it was actually that old! Though man, once you start reading it You Can Tell...

For those who somehow don’t know the premise, The Swiss Family Robinson is about a (Swiss) family (named Robinson) who are shipwrecked near a deserted island. They then have to make their way to shore and figure out a way to survive. You see them meet all sorts of animals, scavenge for supplies, and build up a home on their island paradise.

Now, as far as it coming out in 1812… I can see why this would appeal to people at the time. It was a power-fantasy set during a time when sea exploration was The Hot Thing. There were all sorts of exotic animals! It tried to offer up what was probably New And Exciting Science! Unfortunately, from a 2024 lens, it is all completely insane and wrong. Kangaroos, buffalos, ostriches, jackals, elephants, vultures, anacondas… the entire world is condensed onto this singular island! Don’t even get started on the plantlife! And every single animal here is destined to be hunted and shot. We are very gun-happy in this book. 

My other main condemnation of the book (because let’s be honest, the science can be forgiven when the time period is taken into account) is that it is profoundly boring. There are no big problems. There is no difficulty. If a problem arises, it’s easily and perfectly solved by the father within the same paragraph. It makes for a slightly surreal reading experience and not one I'm eager to repeat. I've heard the Disney version at least includes pirates so I might try watching that, just so this boring as fuck colonialist narrative can get spiced up a little...

When Women Were Dragons

Hands down the best written book I’ve read this month which I was not expecting. I’ve seen this book’s name get bandied about, but always with pretty mixed reviews. Well, after finishing the book and diving into the goodreads comments to see what the heck people are going on about, I’ve concluded that the reading comprehension on this site is worse than I imagined.

So, from the top, let me make it abundantly clear: this is not a fantasy adventure. It will not read like a fantasy adventure. It is, arguably, not even fantasy! Despite the dragons! This book is 100% an example of pure, uncut magical realism and it has to be read allegorically. If you are reading this literally, I’m sorry but you are reading it wrong and I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t enjoy it.

This story is set during the 1950s, in a time surrounding an event known as “The Mass Dragoning” when thousands of women suddenly, spontaneously, transformed into dragons and flew away. The story follows Alex Green who was a child during this event. Her aunt transformed. Her mother didn’t. Both of these things have profound impacts on Alex as she grows up, and a woman’s role in society, a woman’s anger, her joy, her desire are all questioned and explored. What does it mean for someone to stay, for someone to leave, and for someone to be left behind? What does the transition between first and second wave feminism look like? It is a heavy book but beautifully written and incredibly poignant. So many times I was left in speechless awe. This is really a masterpiece, and if you like dissecting literary works I can’t recommend it enough.

This Months Notable Absentee:

Whoops, I was doing Dracula Daily and completely forgot about it during the long slow section after the October whammy, so I did not end up finishing it on time.... 🫠 expect that on Decembers book round up!

[ultimatelyre]

CAPRI rarepairs ficrec/masterlist part IV

💌 - fav $ - smut (minors DNI) !! - check tags

LAZAR/PALLAS the only non complicated couple IMO they wasted no time getting their shit together

identity💌- pallas attacks lazar, not knowing he is laurent's guard, lazar falls in love

formidable💌- “You have a great ass.” “Non, uhhh. Parlez vous French?" except, pallas is a lil shit LMAO

on serving the prince - Prince Laurent has some tasks for his men.

twenty five !!$ - entire series is interesting

Cultural exchange - language barrier is an aphrodisiac in some ways

take me higher💌- pallas is so sneaky i love this fandom and also from same author no angels could beckon me back

tell me words- "You've spent a lot of time with Lazar these days" - a concerned and protective Nik

AUGUST/NIKANDROS

starles hollow💌 - this one is just beautiful

not like other blonds - nik trynna fight the hypocrite allega(y)tions

dont date patients policy - Army AU, nik is the surgeon

one night more 💌

so it begins - The Crown Prince of Vere ends up as a bartering tool in a treaty with Akielos

the king and the kyros

on your knees $$

on a pedestal - prisoner auguste, hurt comfort

ANCEL/BERENGUER ancel is a menace in literally every fic and i love it

ancel's annotated pillow talk $💌 - Tell me what you would have said, as a pet, and then tell me the truth.

young, but for a season💌 - absolutely a joy to read. getting old together.

recreation 💌 - imma cry they say ily for the first time so tender TAT

one of a kind !!$ - alpha ancel is hawt

higher education - abs FAV UNI AU

never let it fade - canon complaint

nickel for your love - needy ancel, post canon

lips like the galaxy's edge - space au

LAURENT/NIKANDROS (yes yes yes take me to jail but it's one of my fav rarepairs)

non, je ne regrette rien !!$💌- FAV FAV FAV made my heart hurt at times

voulez-vous 💌- peak comedy.

take it now or leave it - Auguste looks thrown. “Are you-- do you like him?”

blessings in abundance $$$!!!

JORD/NIKANDROS

have you reckoned a 1000 acres much - came for long haired nik stayed for the good writing style bruh

not his kind - this ones on my tbr

according to plan 💌- adorable, laurent & nik platonic

MISC

a massage $$ - pallas/nik/lazar😳

parabellum - really interesting and has fanart! check the tags!

forgiveness - damen is dead :( laurent&nik platonic

afterwards !! - erasmus/torveld

I'll maybe make a part 2 of rarepairs when i read more!

⭐ part I (popular ones) 💼part II (workplace AU)🫂part III (Auguste lives & Nicaise lives)🦾part IV (rare pairs)

[estellardreams]

So... Somehow a nicer ending than the usual Prince MK AU, but still super bad?

I like to call this the "Monkies of Servitude" AU where essentially... MK is stuck married to King Red, meanwhile all of his friends/family are now stuck working under the king.

Granted, I've toyed with this idea... Twice, now. The first time was during this secondary reblog and the second is my more recent Season 5 comic. This is leaning more towards the Season 5 interpretation, in which MK made a plea deal to King Red to spare all of his friends from getting killed... Leading to their imprisonment instead.

Now, of course... This leads to two things: MK is now allowed to roam around the palace, granted he doesn't try to escape... And also because now King Red's got leverage to keep his precious darling inside.

He doesn't like their "corruptive" influence on his darling, but if he can keep a close eye on them, he could handle this.

That is, until Mei was the first to make the proposal to finally leave their cells to try and find some way to get MK out... By working under King Red. It was a sort of way that everyone else could sneak around the king and the king would be none the wiser.

(Macaque did try to leave with Wukong after finding out about the offer, only to get promptly yanked back with a circlet of his own to keep him in the demon court.)

Of course it's not so easy but he decides to humor them and gives them roles to play. And so much security around, not to mention the circlets, make it nearly impossible to break free.

But at least his darlings happy...?

The main fighters/defenders of the whole fortress are Wukong, Macaque, and Mei. Wukong and Mei definitely aren't fond of Macaque, but have to put up with it.

Like Prisoner Trio, TT Red is the main engineer... Which isn't getting very far because he's stalling so much.

Tang is the scholar/documentor of the important matters in the fortress. As such he's usually writing a lot.

Pigsy is very obviously one of the many cooks in the kitchen. MK started lingering around that area the most whenever he had the chance, just to hang out with his dad.

Sandy was probably one of the trickiest for King Red to figure out. How do you put a pacifist to work without making them nearly impossible to utilize? He then remembered that there's a few designated garden areas and a stable area for animals/pets so a Stableboy seems the easiest.

Everyone gets seperate bedrooms this time. Or they could offer to bunk with each other.

Mk is on the brink of collapsing the universe once again because he just won't stop having meltdowns.

Besides Wukong, Mei's the second most in terms of showing resistance. TT Red is the third, Pigsy is the fourth, Tang is fifth, Macaque is sixth, and Sandy is the least resistant. It's not that he doesn't want to do certain things, it's just that to keep the peace and get on the kings good side he does it... Unless it's super heinous.

Is this a fate worse than death for everyone? Oh, absolutely.

King Red had been easily catching the Monkie Kids from trying to ruin his plans and break out with MK, thanks to all of his other servants and his many security cameras. No one can escape from him.

Mk does eventually have Shan, one of the first Spicynoodles fankids.

This life definitely isn't what he wanted, but for his friends sake he'd try to stay strong and not give up hope. That's extremely hard with King Red clinging to him all the time, though.

(The Prince MK AU belongs to @purble-turble)

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 11

Steve had spent the rest of the day alone in his room. He had a feeling the only reason that happened was because the king himself had given an order to the kids not to bother him at all. Most of the hours he sat at the window sill, looking out onto the land that was supposed to be cursed.

But it was quite the same as the land he'd been raised on. What other lies had his family told about this place? About these people? There were still things Steve didn't understand. It felt like a puzzle had been formed with mixed pieces that no longer fit together.

He wondered how long his father took to make his decision to abandon him. Had he paced around? Had he weighed his options at all? Or had it been an immediate breath of relief when he was able to rid himself of his son? Then he thought about his mother.

She was always softer on him, but in the end never failed to side with her husband. Steve felt he couldn't begrudge her for that, but still wished to know if she argued with him even the smallest bit when he did this.

Steve thought he had known his worth. He might not be the son his parents wanted, but he was still a son. Still a crown prince, born and raised to one day rule. They had put so much work into him. They wanted to send him away, yes, but to be trained and come back even more prepared for his future role as king. They were tossing him away like it all meant nothing.

Well they could always make anoth-

He felt the burn of tears coming on before the thought even finished. They would, wouldn't they? They'd just start over with another child. One that they'd bring up right. They would forget all about Steve. They might even go as far as to strike his name from the record. What need would they have to remember him? He had accomplished nothing under their parentage. Nothing of note to them anyway.

So what was next then? What could he accomplish here? Suppose the king wasn't playing a trick and actually meant what he said. That Steve would be under his protection. What would he be allowed to do? What could he pursue?

Well, he made a pretty good pack mule. Maybe manual labor was in his future. Steve laughed to himself at that. From royal heir, to prisoner, to humble servant. He didn't realize how long he'd been in thought until it started to get dark around him. He turned away from the window, about to start getting ready for bed when he heard a tapping and caw.

There was a raven at the window.

Its wings flapped and it was carrying something in its talons, wrapped in paper. Steve looked at it warily and then the bird cawed again in what sounded like annoyance. Steve opened the window and the bird flew in, dropping its package onto the bed. The bird nudged it towards Steve with its beak.

"You brought that for me?", Steve asked.

The raven cawed.

Steve opened it up carefully and inside was a sandwich. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten much today. He then looked to the bird. "You must be one of the king's messengers?"

The raven's expression was unreadable, but then again he supposed most birds' were. Steve sat on the bed and reached forward to pet the top of its head then under its chin. The raven leaned into it like it was enjoying the scratches.

"You can tell your master...thank you. And here." Steve opened the sandwich and took out some of the meat. "Your delivery fee."

The raven took it carefully into its mouth, cawed at Steve, and then left out of the window into the darkening sky.

This felt like another olive branch. The king assuring him that he was safe here. Steve didn't know what his role would be, what he could accomplish or pursue. But he had the feeling that he might be given the time and the space to decide that for himself.

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

The next morning, Steve got ready and was about to leave his room in search of breakfast only to find the king, fist poised to knock.

"Your Majesty?"

"Y-your Highness. Good morning. Didn't expect you to be up so early."

"I'm an early riser by nature", Steve said.

"Then you're just in time for breakfast."

Steve was led down the halls but this time instead of going towards the kitchens, they went into a different room. There was a grand table and at it Robin and Nancy already sat. There was the man from the ambush that Steve recognized but didn't know the name of. King Edward-no Eddie, his name was Eddie, wait, was Steve allowed to call him that? Safer to keep it formal for now. Anyway, the king took his seat at the head of the table.

The only open seat was at the other end, so Steve took it. Nancy didn't look too happy to see him but it wasn't so much that Steve worried about poison in his food. Breakfast was served and the other four mostly kept the conversation going while Steve sat silently chewing. They seemed to be discussing the proceedings of an event happening soon.

It reminded Steve of the festivities happening back home. People would be coming out more, having picnics, and the seasonal fruits that could be enjoyed now.

"So you're not even going to put a leash on him?", Nancy asked, getting Steve's attention.

Eddie grinned. "I'm rather certain his bark his worse than his bite."

"Care to put that to the test?", Steve asked with a raised brow.

"I'd advice against stepping into an arena with Eddie", Jeff said.

"I know I look like a wispy thing, but I can be a heavy hitter", Eddie said, twirling a fork full of egg around.

"I'll believe it when I see it", Steve said. One of the few things he was confident in was his ability to fight.

"I think your time is best spent tutoring someone less trained", Eddie said.

"...You mean Lucas?"

"You want him training Lucas?", Robin asked, jabbing her thumb toward Steve.

"Why not?", Eddie shrugged. "One couldn't ask for a better teacher than a prince."

Steve didn't think it was meant as a compliment. But something warm in his body swelled like it was. Right as breakfast finished, Nancy produced a sheet of parchment and walked it over to Steve, placing it in front of him.

"Your new schedule."

"You made me a schedule?"

"It was the only way she'd allow you free reign of the castle without a binding spell", Eddie said.

Steve had been looking over the assignments when Eddie's words sunk in. He looked up, feeling a mix of awe, confusion, and gratitude. "You're...giving me free reign of the castle?" Of his home?

Eddie smiled in a way that seemed more genuine. "I see no harm in it. Like I said, you're not a prisoner. Think of it as something like an exchange program. Princes travel abroad all the time, don't they?"

Steve looked at the schedule. He noted that each thing had someone with him, almost like a chaperone, sometimes multiple people. If Nancy was the one making this, he was sure it was intentional. But he understood. He hadn't fully proven himself as trustworthy. For the first time, Steve considered if he might kill Eddie if given the chance.

Would his father welcome him back with open arms then?

He shook off the thought, already knowing the answer. If he killed Eddie there was nothing good in it for him.

"When do I start?"

Part 13

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Runaway

Part II - Sacrificial Lamb

Previous I Next

Summary: Hold onto the good times, for they never last. A glimpse into the first half of your life and how you came to live at the Tillman ranch. You thought Roy Tillman was your savior, until the dreaded truth comes to light, leaning heavily on Gator as you both try to navigate young adulthood.

CW: This has elements of canon storyline. Heavy content and mature themes. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Sunshine" and other pet names. Mentions of drug and alcohol use. Reader has a bad home life. Roy Tillman (a cw on his own). Depictions of domestic abuse. Reader is slapped - mentions of bruises. Fighting. Young love. Allusions to underage consensual sex (not explicit). Angst. Trauma bonding. Hurt no comfort. Let me know if I missed anything!

18+ Only! Minors DNI! Heed the warnings!

WC: 12.4K

Lehigh, North Dakota Early Spring 2007

For most kids, sixteen can be a tumultuous time in their lives to begin with but it seemed life had dealt you the losing hand at every turn.

From the moment you drew your first breath, you were doomed by the narrative. Born to drug addict parents moving from place to place or town to town, the only viable options for two people trying to avoid jail time or bad debts, simply dragging you around with them. It was a wonder the two halfwits managed to keep you alive those first few years.

They were smart enough to know they had to settle down before you started Kindergarten and ended up in the middle of Nowhere, North Dakota. They inherited a place from your grandmother who had passed away a few months prior, a single wide trailer that you got to call home for the better part of your childhood. It was a two-bedroom shack barely suitable for one person, let alone three. They grew pot out of the back bedroom, leaving you to sleep on a cot shoved into the corner of the living room.

School became your happy place, a solace from the reality of home. You flourished, despite your odds and loved to read. Books were an escape from reality. Late at night, you hid under the covers with a flashlight reading about princes and faraway kingdoms or of magic beyond your understanding. All manner of fantasy that you wished in some way could be true. You dreamt of your own adventures that would someday lead you miles away from here.

Both your parents had garnered the attention of the local authorities a month after your birthday. The county seized the property due to back taxes and your father took the fall for all the weed landing him a one-way ticket to federal prison. Somehow, they still let your mom keep custody despite her obvious involvement, coupled with the fact that the two of you had nowhere to live.

The two of you lived in and out of dumpy motels in the seedier parts of Lehigh until the day you were caught stealing from the local market where they detained you and called the Sheriff's department.

“Where’s your mom?” Roy Tillman asked with a sigh, looking down at you sitting there in the manager's office of the Piggly Wiggly. He sighed, taking the wide brimmed cowboy hat from his head, laying it on the desk beside him. The local sheriff had more than his fair share of run-ins with your family. He knew your past and your parents all too well.

You shrug instead of answering, pulling at a loose thread at the bottom of your very worn and dirty shirt. One of five you kept on rotation, the rest packed into the backpack on the floor beside you.

You hadn’t seen her in three days after she pawned off the only thing of value that you had left, a gold ring that she had given you a few years prior. It was the last straw, you knew right then and there she didn’t and would never care about you the way a mother should. She was nothing more than a junkie looking for her next fix.

He bent down to your level, fixing you with a sympathetic yet authoritative gaze that made you swallow the lump in your throat when your eyes met his as he asked you again. His presence made you feel uneasy at first, but he was taking his time to talk with you instead of speaking down to you like everyone else had.

“I d– don’t know. Haven’t seen her for a few days.” Your voice came out meek, suddenly feeling small under his domineering gaze, looking away from him.

His eyes narrowed, regarding you for a moment. “How old are you?”

“Si– Sixteen.” Your hangnail was suddenly more interesting, averting your attention as you began to pick at it as you answered.

“A pretty girl your age shouldn’t be out on her own.” He muttered more to himself than to you as he stood back up. “Well, come on now. Get up.”

You reluctantly stood, wary footsteps taking you to your resigned fate as the Sheriff walked you out. Your face was on fire from all the knowing gazes around the store. He tipped his hat to the store manager and led you to his blazer, helping you into the passenger side.

Instead of taking you to jail, to your surprise he took pity on you. For a runaway teen with nowhere else to go, he gave you an offer, an opportunity to live with a normal family and to better yourself. It seemed like a dream come true.

The Tillman's had a nice home on a large ranch with plenty of space to thrive and grow. The spare room was set up for you right next to Roy's teenage sons.

You'd seen Gator at school but coming from different sides of town, the two of you had never spoken. He was popular, played football and was far too pretty for his own good, the epitome of an all-American teenage boy. The kind of young man that parents would love to see their daughter date. Yes sir and yes ma'am were ingrained in his vocabulary. He was perfect and you absolutely hated him.

When you arrived, Roy's wife, Nadine immediately made you feel welcome, soon learning she was his second wife and not Gator's mother. She was younger than you imagined but seemed to be an old soul with her soft spoken and kind nature, advice of all manner at the ready if you asked.

It was church every Sunday and family dinners at night. It didn’t go without rules, but it was the structure and routine you so badly needed.

They gave you some new clothes, a warm, soft bed to sleep in and a roof over your head. You had your own room, a private sanctuary all to yourself. When you laid your head down on the feather pillow that night, you hoped that you wouldn't have to leave anytime soon. It was the first time in a long time you felt safe.

Gator completely ignored your presence for the first couple of days, until he couldn't. Roy had told him it was his duty to show you around the ranch and teach you various chores you would be doing, in his words, to “earn your keep.”

“You're still doing it wrong.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he crossed the stall, bootsteps heavy, grabbing the shovel roughly out of your hands. You'd grown accustomed to the frown gracing his handsome features that he most often wore around you, as if it caused him physical pain to be in your presence.

Your hands were beginning to blister, it was hot, and the barn smelled well, like a barn. It was a strong mixture of manure, hay and earth.

“You need to use more force. Here.” He demonstrates again, working across the old barnwood floor. He wore a crisp white shirt that showed off the lean muscle of his arms and shoulders as he moved, tucked into his tight-fitting Wranglers. His green cap was situated backwards, per usual, unless the sun was directly in his face. If you weren’t so annoyed you might have appreciated how good he looked, but in your current state it just infuriated you further.

He stops midway, an exhausted look replacing the frown when he hears your huff, turning his head in time to see your eyes roll, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aren't you just a ray of fuckin' sunshine.” He scoffs, moving the shovel upright resting his hands on the end.

“Think you're too good for shovelin’ horse shit? Hmm? That it?” He spat.

Your brows furrowed at his attempt at an insult, insinuating that he knew anything about your life. Rich, coming from a boy that grew up in a house where he never had to want for anything.

“No asshole, it's your bullshit I can't stand. You think you know anything about me? You don't know shit!” There was a fiery defiance in your eyes as you spoke but there was something else there. Something raw and vulnerable he couldn't quite put his finger on.

His brows furrowed at the sudden outburst; another venomous laced comment was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it at the last second. He knew the heavy hand that ruled the ranch would tan his hide if he didn't show you how to do the rest of the chores, so he sighed and tried a different approach.

“Look, I'm tryin’ to help ya’ out. Roy he… he expects things to be done proper ‘round here. So just… can ya’ at least try?” He finally asks, with an almost pleading look. If only you'd known then, in his own way, he was already trying to warn you.

For the first time, his words seemed genuine, without the usual disdain. Warily, you narrowed your gaze but finally dropped your arms to your sides in a more relaxed, less defensive position.

“Yeah.” You nod, already reaching for the shovel to start again, this time doing it exactly as he had instructed instead of half-assing it just to spite him.

“There ya’ go, Sunshine. Gettin' the hang of it now.” He grins, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. You couldn't help the small smile that lifted the edges of your lips at the little nickname that suddenly didn't seem so condescending.

The rest of the day went much smoother. It seemed you finally had a small understanding while he showed you around the property demonstrating how to complete the other various chores that you and he would be sharing.

His thorny shell melted just a little more, as you began to warm up to him. He even cracked a couple of jokes and tried to make you laugh as the day waned. He could be crude and rough around the edges but there was something else there, a glimpse of his boyish charm in the gentle way he spoke to you.

It was quiet out as the day began to wind down. The sun was setting over the horizon while you finished brushing the horses. You had been chatting about nothing and everything as the last rays fanned out across the barn bathing you both with its warmth. When he looked at you, his hazel eyes caught the light just right, making the usual brown tones burst with greens and golds.

When you stared at him a beat too long, his lips curled with that cocky, crooked grin that made a faint blush warm your cheeks before you quickly looked away and cleared your throat. He huffed a small chuckle but didn’t say anything, keeping that genuine smile, a true rarity you would come to find out in the coming weeks around the Tillman ranch.

Each evening you all sat down to have supper together. Prayers were said before each meal while you all held hands, a family tradition you weren’t accustomed to. Roy was at the head of the table with Nadine to his left and Gator to his right, and you seated next to the aloof boy.

It was the same every time, he begrudgingly took your hand and dropped it as if your touch was searing to his skin. You weren't sure what you had done to offend him so vehemently, especially since the two of you had finally been getting along so well.

The dinner table was where the ugly truth began to seep into this painted reality a mere two weeks after you had come to live with them.

Report cards were just released and Roy asked Gator why his grades were slipping while serving himself another helping of mashed potatoes.

“I don't know, school’s hard sometimes. I—” he began but Roy quickly cut him off.

“Schools hard? That's all you have to say for yourself?” Raising his voice before his hands came down against the table making everyone jump.

“Roy,” Nadine's mild-mannered voice cut in, but he held up his hand to silence her, making her mouth snap shut.

“Dad it's—”

“Gator, school is going to be the easiest thing you ever have to do. Get your grades up. Or. Else.” He pointed a finger at him. “You have the Tillman name to uphold, and you will not make a fool of me. Understood?”

He nodded, forking at the food on his plate but that wasn't enough for the elder man.

“Is that understood?” Leaning slightly into his space with a stone-cold look to his eye.

“Yes, sir.” The younger boy replied a little more sheepishly.

You watched the entire interaction unfold while keeping your own head down, trying to stay calm, watching as Nadine's eyes bounced between the two like she was waiting for something to happen. You immediately lost your appetite, asking to be dismissed from the table a few minutes later, thankful Roy obliged without any objections.

Late that same night, you were startled awake by the sound of glass breaking followed by muffled shouting and cries. You clung to the sheets and pulled them up, covering your head. It became the startling realization you had traded one abusive home only to be stuck in another. The perfect facade that was the Tillman home began to crack, showing all the festering secrets and lies in one fell swoop.

As you lay there, a soft knock came at the door, but you didn't move, too afraid to open your eyes until his hushed voice cut through the dark as he poked his head in.

“Hey, Y/N, are you awake?” Gator whispered out soft and timid, as the shouting and cries were slowly fading out. When you say nothing, he sighs, slowly pulling it closed on creaking hinges.

“Wait!” You whisper, making him stop. “Wh—what do you want?”

He pauses, watching as you carefully lower the covers, your sleep mussed hair popping into view before your wide, frightened eyes catch his.

“Can I come in?” He asks, hand still poised on the handle. He seemed small standing there in his grey joggers and tight-fitting tee, shifting slightly on bare feet waiting for you to answer.

You nod, not seeing him as a threat but kept your guard up, giving him a puzzled sort of look as you sit up.

He takes another look back out into the hall before quietly tiptoeing in and softly shutting the door behind him, crossing the room to the edge of the bed taking a seat at the end of it. He stays silent a moment longer, as if trying to figure out what to say.

“Why'd you come here?” He finally asks, with a hint of frustration, trying to keep it no louder than a whisper.

“I didn't have a choice.” You shrug, eyes flitting down to the worn comforter. “Dads in jail, mom didn't want me. Your dad said I could stay here that I— I'd be safe.”

Recounting the small conversation Roy had with you, it was either come here or spend the rest of your teenage years in juvie or foster care. It had seemed like a no-brainer.

“Yeah… Safe.” He scoffs. “Not everythin’ is sunshine and rainbows.”

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment, tears threatening to spill over your lash line.

“You don’t think I know that?” It came out a little breathless and high pitched, a little louder than you intended, unable to hide your emotion. “I should be used to bullshit by now.”

He gulped, not expecting the sudden reaction from you, firmly holding your gaze as his lips part but nothing comes out.

You think he's about to leave, head swiveling to the door as he sighs, then looking back to you through the dim light.

“Just try to stay out o’ trouble. Keep your head down and try not to piss off the old man.” He settles on.

There was a hint of something you couldn’t quite discern in his actions and words. Was he worried about you? He oozed a sort of macho bravado but here in this room, he slowly began to show a little more of himself. A teenager, just like you, trying to find his way in the world.

“Yeah,” you agree, unsure of what else to say.

“I better go. Ya’ gonna be okay?” He mumbled quietly, with a sweet sincerity to his question, rising from the bed to take his leave.

You nod, even though you didn’t feel okay, prompting him to nod back before he shuffled back out into the hall, leaving you alone once more. All the shouting had finally stopped, leaving the faint murmuring of the TV drifting from the room down the hall. The safety you had felt was gone, leaving you to question if there was truly any good left in the world. A question a sixteen-year-old shouldn’t have to worry about.

Something else happened that night. It was the first time Gator Tillman ever let someone see him in a different light. This compassionate, caring side he kept hidden away was vastly overshadowed by this continuous need for acceptance and love from his father, bringing out the worst side of him.

He had taken note of how strong willed you were, with a fiery, no bullshit nature that immediately drew him in. These attributes were also what worried him. The ranch had never been kind to those unwilling to fall in line and do as they were told.

Maybe it was the way you looked up at him, eyes shining on the verge of tears or despite yourself, he knew you would never stay out of trouble. You were only a couple of months younger than him, but he knew all too well what happened the last time Roy had brought someone he deemed a “throwaway” home. She became his stepmother after his own mother disappeared. Roy had an affinity for the young and pliable. The mere thought disgusted him. Gator feared the worst and was hit with an unwavering need to protect you.

-

The next morning an eerie sort of quiet hung over everyone at breakfast as Nadine, sporting a new black eye, sat everything down at the table. You couldn't help but stare at the state she was in, fragile and avoiding any sort of direct eye contact. Roy and Nadine both acted as if everything was business as usual, prompting you and Gator to do the same.

As horrid as it was, it didn’t take long to get used to seeing her bruised or battered in some way or another. As mild mannered and quiet as she seemed, she had a sharp tongue and wit that Roy didn’t take kindly to. This cycle became your new normal. You didn’t want to turn a blind eye, but given your situation, you had no alternative.

Life at the ranch aside, Gator suddenly didn't make it a point to ignore you so much, even going out of his way at school for a chat here and there or eating lunch with you.

The world didn't seem so lonely anymore, until a few weeks later when it was decided you would be homeschooled.

“Homeschooled, sir?” You asked puzzled as you set your fork back down to your plate, your heart suddenly began hammering in your chest. Gator's gaze briefly caught yours trying to communicate a warning glare, which you chose to ignore.

“Yes, Y/N. Nadine can show you the basics and you can better keep up with your chores during the day. I can teach you the more advanced curriculum when I get home in the afternoons.” He said, shoving a fork full of food into his mouth as if this would be the end of the conversation.

“I make good grades. I would rather stay in school. I want to try to go to col—”

“Y/N!” His gruff voice cut you off. “As long as you're under my roof you'll abide by my rules. The women in this family are homeschooled.”

“You can't make that decision for me! You are not my father!” You suddenly burst out feeling as though the air were suddenly sucked from the room. Nadine's gaze shifted from you back to Roy as Gator held his breath. It just wasn’t in your nature to back down from something you felt so passionately about. School had ALWAYS been your outlet.

Roy remained stoic, swallowing his food and wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin before turning and giving you his full attention, eyes dark as he trained them directly on you.

“Let's get one thing straight, your parents don't give a damn about you. If it weren't for me, you'd either be in the street or worse, God forbid. You're going to start showing a little gratitude! By law, I am your legal guardian, and I decide what’s in your best interest.” He pauses, watching your reaction.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill at your lash line as he smirked.

“You will be homeschooled starting tomorrow and I don't want to hear another goddamn word about it! You should be thanking me, you little ungrateful brat!” He spat, picking up his fork once more, returning to his meal, uncaring if you had a retort.

“Dad,” Gator suddenly spoke up, as hot tears spilled silently down your cheeks, casting your face toward the table.

“What is it son?” He asked, without looking up at the boy.

“If Y/N wants to go to school, I can keep an eye out on her. Make sure no one bothers her.” He shrugs, trying to keep his voice even.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” He harshly smacks the back of his head with a thump that makes you jump slightly. “Eat your food. My decision is final.”

The rest of the dinner was finished in tense silence until Roy got up to retire to his study for the evening. Gator went outside to finish the rest of his chores and you helped Nadine put away the leftovers and wash the dishes as you sniffed and tried to hold back your remaining tears the entire time.

She looked at you with sympathy, but didn’t try to make conversation.

You laid in bed that night staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep as the grim truth of the situation weighed on you. There was no shouting or cries that night, just cold silence and a reality you didn't want to face.

Pulling the covers back, you silently slipped from bed and out into the hall listening for any other sounds. The TV played in Roy and Nadine's room, hopefully covering any miniscule noises from you, tiptoeing down the hall, avoiding the creaks in the floorboards you had come to memorize.

You slowly turned the handle to Gator's room and opened the door enough to squeeze in as he shot up in bed.

“What're ya’ doing in here?” He hissed, voice groggy and sleep ladened, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand as he sat up.

You came in here to thank him for speaking up earlier but suddenly you couldn't say anything, your voice caught in your throat as you began to cry.

“Shit, hey.” He rose from his bed and quickly crossed his room over to you, hesitantly placing an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of physical touch you hadn’t felt in so long, melting almost instantly into his side. He wasn’t one to show his affection, hell he could barely remember the last time someone hugged him. It must have been his momma, he thought fondly, before shoving that back down.

He led you over to the bed and sat you both down, the springs squeaking slightly in protest. He sits in silence, listening to you, unsure of what to say to bring you some sense of comfort.

“Gator?” You finally ask, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“Yeah?” His eyes trained on the side of your face, his hand itching to reach up and help wipe away your tears.

“Can I stay in here tonight?” You ask timidly, turning your head to look up at him.

“In— in my bed?” He swallows thickly, contemplating just how bad he'd get his ass beat if Roy happened to walk in here, as you nod.

You see his hesitation and the way his eyes move back toward the door.

“I'll leave before he wakes up. I just don't want to be alone tonight. Please.” The words slipped from your mouth as if you read his mind.

The way you looked up at him, all doe eyes and pouty lips, he couldn't deny you. It would be hard to ever tell you no. Even with tear-stained cheeks and a runny nose you were devastatingly pretty to him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nods quickly, standing up. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“No, please. There's enough room, I'll scoot over.” Saying as you lay down, moving over to the other side as close to the edge as possible, pulling the comforter over you.

“Yeah, ok.” He sighs, nervously sliding in beside you, laying on his back looking up toward the ceiling.

“Thank you.” You meekly spoke leaning up to give him a small kiss on the cheek, your lips leaving his skin abuzz, before turning over to face the wall.

The two of you fell silent, unsure if anything further needed to be said as your eyelids grow heavy, finding solace in his presence. He listened for a while until your breathing evened out as you drifted off to sleep.

He eventually followed, only jolted from a deep slumber when he heard Roy's fists banging on the door the next morning.

“Gator, get your ass up! Don't make me come back up here!” He yelled through the door.

His initial reaction was to look for you, but the other side of the bed was empty, he sighed. The only reminder of your presence was the lingering scent of your shampoo filing his lungs as he rolled over on the pillow you had laid on only an hour before.

-

Homeschool consisted of mainly taking care of the house, the only real curriculum you received was, as Roy had promised, with him late in the afternoons.

He wasn't kind nor patient, quickly growing frustrated with your attitude and unwillingness to comply. It's not that you didn't mind learning new skills, but this wasn't what you wanted to do. It was boring and, in your mind, useless.

It only took a few days for him to reach a boiling point.

“Y/N! Answer the damn question.” He gritted out between clenched teeth, his growing frustration mounting.

“I don't know the answer.” You shrugged, refusing to look him in the eye.

His hulking form came around the desk, grabbing your chin forcefully making you look up at him.

“Stop being so fuckin' difficult! Either fall in line, or I will make you fall in line.” His voice was strained, showing just how tired and weary he had grown of your behavior.

You stayed silent but met his gaze, determined to not back down. That very defiance would be your downfall.

It was the first time you felt the cruelty of his touch as the back of his hand met your cheek with a sharp, resounding smack. It had happened so suddenly; it left you stunned.

A searing heat flooded the side of your face, your eyes instantly welled with tears as you shot up from the chair, running from the room and out the back door. He watched, unmoving, letting you go.

You didn’t think. You just needed to run. Your bare feet carried you across the field, uncaring of how the uneven earth beneath you prodded and poked at your soles. The barn would reveal a good hiding spot, crawling into a small space concealed by hay. With your knees pulled into your chest you cried long and hard into the evening.

At some point you fell asleep, only rousing when you heard Gator yelling your name. You softly stirred, stretching your achy muscles.

“Gator?” You called out, your voice tired and scratchy.

“Y/N? Where the hell are ya’? Everybody's been lookin’ for ya’.” He replied, coming around the corner to see you wedged into your hiding spot.

“Jesus, it's fuckin’ freezin’ out here. What're you—” His heart dropped, as he shined his flashlight over in your direction taking in your disheveled appearance and the welt across your cheek.

His fists were clenched at his sides, anger bubbling up as he watched you crawl toward him, face tear streaked and puffy. He knelt down beside you, hesitantly bringing his hand up to brush the hair from your face as you closed your eyes. It was tender, careful not to aggravate the raised skin. The touch sending a shiver down your spine despite your current state.

“I shouldn't have talked back.” You murmured, barely above a whisper, as Gator's warnings from days earlier to stay out of trouble rolled to the forefront of your mind.

He nods in understanding, eyes flitting away from you, unsure of his own voice, dropping his hand back down.

“We have to get ya’ back to the house. I— Everyone's been worried sick.” He states, standing back up to shed his jacket.

He takes your hand as you stand on wobbly legs, making sure you’re steady before wrapping his coat around your shoulders. You lean on him, with his arm securely around your waist as you make the small trek back up to the house.

You're grateful the kitchen is empty when you enter.

“He got called away.” He commented as if knowing exactly what you were thinking. “Nadine left ya’ a plate in the microwave. Go sit down.” Nodding toward the table.

You sat quietly, watching as he heated your supper before setting it down and taking the seat across from you.

Gator watched as you ate a few bites and placed your fork back down.

“M’not very hungry.” You mumbled, regarding him for a moment.

Gator was an enigma. He was sweet but guarded and blindly loyal to his father in a way that made him dangerous, craving his approval so deeply that he would do anything to gain it. It left you wondering why he would help you knowing he would most likely get himself into trouble.

“Can I stay in your bed tonight?” You asked, catching him off guard.

“Hey,” he whispered, suddenly looking around the room and down the hall. “Keep that between us.” He hissed, and added “that's probably not a good idea. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” You look away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I'm going to take a shower.”

You stood from the chair so quickly, he didn't have time to respond, watching you leave and climb the stairs before muttering to himself what an idiot he was.

He made his way to his room, passing the bathroom on the way, pausing in front of the door for a moment listening to the water run. He silently berated himself again before retiring to his bedroom.

He tried to sleep, but it eluded him, tossing and turning most of the night. Just before 11 pm he heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall, as he heard your bedroom door creak open and a few seconds later shut.

Roy was finally home.

He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as his door swung open slightly before it closed shut once more.

He waited another half hour before slipping out from the warmth and silently taking the few steps over to your door, making sure he wasn't making a sound before slowly opening it.

You were turned away, facing the window as he tiptoed further into the room, assuming you were asleep he thought about turning back around but then you whispered his name and turned over toward him.

“Hey. Still want some company?” He grinned, even if you couldn't make it out in the dark.

“Yeah.” You sighed, scooting over to make room for him. He crawled in beside you a little closer than the few days before.

You both laid on your backs, not saying anything for a few minutes. The silence was comfortable; happy to just be in the presence of someone else who understood.

“We need to get out of here.” Whispering, with your gaze set firmly to the ceiling. You hadn’t intended to say ���we”, but it had slipped out so easily. Neither of you deserved the life that was being laid out before you.

“We can't.” He sighs, feeling your sudden hopelessness. “But I'll take care of you.”

He feels a little wave of confidence, his hand moving toward you. His pinky brushes yours, sending goosebumps across your flesh as you turn your head toward him.

“How?”

He turns his head at your question, meeting your eyes as his hand glides over the top of yours, resting there a moment before taking him by surprise when you suddenly turn your palm, threading your slender fingers through his. His palm was calloused but warm and comforting, his hand easily dwarfing your own.

“I'll keep you safe.” The only words he could think to say. He didn't know how to keep you from Roy entirely, but he knew he had time to think. You wouldn't turn eighteen for a while yet.

He kept the rest of those thoughts to himself. He had time.

-

After that night, you decided to stay quiet around Roy and do your lessons without any resistance. Things began to go a lot smoother around the Tillman ranch.

Weeks turned into months without another incident or hand raised against you and every night you would take turns sneaking into each other's rooms taking comfort and solace in the presence of one another.

Gator turned seventeen and was gifted a shiny new truck. He began spending less time at home but always found his way back to you at night under the cover of darkness until an idea struck him.

“It's too dangerous.” You giggled.

“And this isn't?” He laughed along with you. “If Roy walks in here and sees us under the covers, he'd skin me alive and probably burn you at the stake.”

You shake your head, burying your face in the pillow.

“Come on, just this one time and I won't say another word ‘bout it. I'll drive us down to the lake. Be back before anyone knows it.” He gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

“Gatorrrrrr.” You whine. “Don't give me that look.”

He pouts further, jutting his lower lip out.

“Okay.” You whisper, finally giving into his antics.

“Yeah?” His eyes light up at the prospect, a grin lifting the edges of his lips.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Okay!”

He gave you instructions to change and meet him outside in ten minutes before he left your room. It had luckily been a night Roy had a little too much to drink and would hopefully be out cold until morning.

You held your breath as you tiptoed down the hall, looking back only once before descending the stairs and quietly heading out the back door, feeling a rush of relief with the fresh air.

As you slowly closed the door, you felt arms wrap around your waist, a shiver traveling down your spine, as he whispered “gotcha” close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your cheek.

“Ready darlin?” He hums, still close, obviously no idea what his warm body pressed up against yours was doing to you as you turn to face him, his grip loosening.

“Yeah, let's go.” You smile, mirroring his. He slips his hand into yours as you race off the porch running the short distance to his truck, jumping in quickly before slowly rolling down the long drive without the lights on until you made it to the main highway.

Your heart was racing, looking back in the mirror as the old farmhouse grows smaller until it's finally out of sight.

He steals small glances at you when you aren't looking, admiring the non-stop smile gracing your face but he could tell you were nervous. You were far too quiet.

If only he could read your mind, it would have made this a lot easier. You weren't nervous because of sneaking out or even the chance of being caught. It was him. He made you nervous, in the best way.

You're not sure when it happened, those innocent late-night chats turning into a little bit more. Soft touches and scooting closer to one another. You sought comfort and found it in him.

“It's not far. We'll be back before no one knows we're missin’. Promise.” He states, grinning back over to you, trying to quell your nerves as his fingers fiddled with the radio before Patsy Cline’s “She's Got You” faintly played through the speakers.

“Patsy Cline?” You ask, with a quirk of your brow, expecting something, anything other than that.

“She was my momma's favorite.” He shrugged, as if mentioning her was no big deal, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

No one ever talked about Linda, even though her picture was still hung in the hallway nestled right alongside Nadine and Roy's wedding photo, it seemed like it was still a touchy subject in the Tillman household.

“She was pretty.” You said quietly. His gaze flicked quickly to you and back to the road before he left out a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, she was.” He replied solemnly, giving away the hint of nostalgia he was feeling.

You nodded, looking back out the window, thinking the conversation was over until he cleared his throat to speak up again.

“She would play Patsy when I was little, when it was just the two of us.” A fond smile played on his lips before he continued. “Sometimes we'd dance around the kitchen while she was cooking. I– I miss her.” He could picture it now, the old turntable softly filling the small kitchen with Patsy’s voice as he danced with her. His small feet on top of hers as she moved them both around the room. Her smile and laughter were infectious, making his eyes sparkle with childhood delight.

A few beats of silence passed before you finally asked, “where is she?”

“Don't know.” He shrugs again, but the pain was evident in his voice. “Figure she got tired of the way dad— uh, she just left.”

“I'm sorry, Gator.” You reply, as he scoffs slightly, making you look back up at him.

“What're you sorry for? She was a grown woman. She made her choice.” He spat out.

“I know that. I'm sorry you had to go through it.” You slowly place your hand to his forearm, your touch both electrifying and soothing to him.

“Sorry, I— shouldn't've… it's not your fault.” He sputters, feeling remorseful for the harsh tone. He thought of his mother often but never spoke of her aloud. It was a nice change to speak so freely without any repercussions. Her records were still at the house, tucked away in the bottom of his closet. Roy wouldn’t allow them to be played after she was gone.

“It's okay.” Your touch lingers momentarily as the song finally comes to an end. Pulling your hand away and settling back into the passenger seat, the moment passing between the two of you. Each passing moment you learned a little more about this boy, peeling back the layers of his complex life.

He turned down a small road off the highway, pavement giving way to gravel as it got a little bumpier.

“You come here often?” Asking, as you take in his profile, he had gotten a little taller over the spring and summer, lean muscle on display under his tight shirt.

“Sometimes. Guys on the football team bring their gir—” he clears his throat. “Uh, they have parties here.”

“They bring their girlfriends here?” Smirking at his abrupt change in phrasing.

“Uh, yeah, it— it's a nice spot to, I dunno. Relax, I guess.” He shrugs trying to downplay his own embarrassment.

“Sounds nice.” You say quietly, looking back out the window.

The gravel eventually turns into a dirt road as he slows down further to navigate the dips and ruts before a clearing comes into view up ahead. The moon is large and sparkling against the water below as he moves close to the shore.

He throws it in park, as you jump out of the truck without another thought, laughing out into the clear night.

“Hey, damnit!” He yells out. “Wait for me!”

You're already bolting across the shore, toeing your shoes off and letting the water lap at your ankles as he strides up beside you. So caught up in the sound of your laughter he can't bring himself to scold you for running off.

“It's so pretty!” You say, smiling out at the water.

“Yeah,” he whispers, staring at you instead. He takes in your features and the unadulterated bliss, as he thinks that he’s never seen you this happy since coming to the ranch. If he could do more, he would, but this is the best given your circumstances.

“We could come out here again, maybe try to sneak away once a week? I know I said I wouldn't ask again but—”

“Really?” You asked, looking up at him with excitement, but still feeling hesitant to get your hopes up. Roy rarely lets you leave the ranch, just the occasional trip with Nadine to the grocery store.

He nods, pulling a pack of smokes out of his pocket, along with a Zippo as your eyes follow his movements.

“You smoke?” Questioning with a raise of your brow toward him.

“Sometimes. Want one?” He offers, holding the pack up but you shake your head. He shrugs, taking one and placing it between his lips, lighting it with ease as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

His cheeks hollow as he inhales, the end glowing cherry red between you. He smirks when he sees you watching him so intently.

“Come on, let's go sit.” Nodding his head toward a downed tree not far behind you, as you follow reluctantly leaving the water.

You sit beside him, suddenly growing a little anxious. The sounds of water lapping at the shore and the crickets filling the silence. It felt right. This is what you should be doing, living outside of that invisible barrier that has been placed in your way.

The rules you now have to follow make it impossible to be a normal teenager. For just a little while, you could pretend you were on a date with a boy you liked. Nothing more.

Your toes dig at the soft sand below your feet, before gaining the courage to speak again.

“Gator, is this a date?”

He chokes, inhaling roughly and coughing before sputtering out a hoarse, “What?!”

“A date. When a guy likes a girl, he asks her to go out and they—” You start to explain.

“Fuck, I know what a date is. This," he gestures between you, "ain't that. I just thought ya’ wanted to get out of the house, s’all.” He huffs, extinguishing the rest of his cigarette on the roughened wood beside him.

You nod, quickly looking away, a little saddened by his curt response.

He immediately noticed your face fall, silently cursing himself for saying the first damn thing that came to mind.

“I mean, is that— did ya’ want this to be a date?” He quickly recovers.

“I don't know.” Shrugging, still looking away, the water was suddenly much more interesting, as the heat in your cheeks became too much.

He wasn't sure what to say. Did you want this to be a date? Did he?

Other guys his age went on dates and had girlfriends. He often wondered if he was the oddball ignoring the advances of his peers. None of the girls at school ever drew his attention like you did. You were just there. A friend and someone he longed to be around. Those hushed conversations late at night were what he looked forward to the most each day, when he really felt like himself.

Should he ask you on a date, even though you live together under the same roof? He knew it was fucked up but in some odd way, he felt like you were already his.

He grew too quiet, lost in his own thoughts and it felt like the silence was too deafening, so you stood up and began to pull your shirt up over your head.

“What the hell are yo–” his jaw dropped when your hand drifted to your shorts and popped the button as they slid down your bare legs. Your back was to him, standing there in nothing but your underwear. Sure, he'd seen a lot of your skin but not like this.

“Y/N! Put your damn clothes back on!” He hissed out, trying to look anywhere else.

“We're at the lake, Gator! I want to swim!” You yelled back, suddenly sprinting for the water.

“Jesus Christ!” He muttered, watching you dive headfirst into the lake and disappearing briefly before your head popped back up.

“Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack?” He yelled, with no real malice. His next words dying on his tongue as he watched you from the shore, the moonlight glistening over your soft skin making you appear like some ethereal creature from a storybook.

“Gator! Come swim with me!” You yelled, looking back toward him standing there on the shore.

Who was he to deny you? He toed off his sneakers and unbuttoned his pants in haste, looking down to realize he had worn his briefs instead of his boxer shorts. Shit. Heat creeped up his cheeks thinking of you seeing him in so little.

He pauses a moment, before he hears you call his name again, finally releasing a heavy sigh, he finishes unzipping his jeans and letting them pool at his feet before removing his shirt and pulling off his socks.

“Comin’ Sunshine!” He finally calls back, taking a deep breath, before diving in after you.

When he surfaces, he's met with silence. His head swivels as he turns in the water to catch a glimpse of where you might be.

“Y/N?!” He yells, already frantic as a spike of panic sets in. “Y/N?!” He shouts a little louder this time.

He suddenly hears a splash right beside him as your hands grab his shoulder and head, surprising him as you push him under the water with a loud laugh.

Once he resurfaces, he instantly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back into his chest as you let out a scream and start laughing once more.

“You're such a little shit!” He shouts, still trying to catch his breath but your laughter is too contagious to feel any real anger toward you.

“Your turn!” He shouts before you feel him start to drag you backward with him. You hold your breath, as the water closes in around you, enveloping you both in her cool embrace. His grip loosening for you to float back up.

You're both laughing, trying to catch your breaths, opening your eyes to him already looking at you with a big lopsided grin that you've come to feel he only reserves for you. The laughter quietly subsides as you continue to stare at each other.

The moon is big and bright, almost full but not quite, providing enough light to take everything in as you silently begin to drift around him, your fingertips dragging across his back, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

He freezes at the contact, making something stir deep within him. There's something in your gaze that makes him nervous, it's soft and warm. No one's ever looked at him with such kindness and admiration.

“What— what're ya doin’?” He finally asks, trying to hide the small tremble in his voice.

“Just swimming…” You giggle, moving back directly in front of him, your feet finding the lake bottom to stand in the chest deep water.

“Yeah, but why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?” His voice cracks at the end, giving away his nerves, despite trying to keep his cool.

“Like what, Gator?” You tilt your head, playing dumb, trying to let him make the first move. You'd been dreaming about your first kiss, hoping and praying it would be with him. This was the first chance you'd had actually getting him alone, free from worry or prying eyes. Was he really that clueless?

“Like— like that.” He sputters, feeling a slight mixture of annoyance and something, he couldn't quite discern.

“I don't know.” Shrugging and looking away, suddenly feeling embarrassed as doubt began to creep in.

He notices the expression that crosses your face and suddenly it clicks for him. You begin to slowly ease back into the water, about to dive back in when he softly grabs your wrist.

“Wait! Just— wait a sec.” He holds firm, pulling you a little closer to him. “I'm an idiot, okay.”

Your eyes turn back to his face. He's grinning, unable to contain it at this point but you don't say anything. His eyes flit across your face, down to your lips and back up.

“You still want this to be a date?” He asks, voice a little huskier than before. He kissed Becky Mitchell behind the bleachers last fall to see what all the fuss was about, so he knew what to do, but he was suddenly a little anxious, because he wants so badly to see what it's like with you. Would it be different? Would it feel different?

“Um… yeah, I'd like that.” You nod.

You aren't sure what to do, as he begins to crowd into your space, your heart beating wildly at the thought of what might come next. He releases your wrist to place his hand on your hip, fingers splayed across your soft skin pulling you even closer.

“Gator?” You hesitantly ask, searching his face.

“Yeah?” His grip grew a little tighter in response, his free hand timidly coming to your waist, fingertips dancing at your ribs causing a shiver to travel down your spine.

“I— I'm nervous.” You say, a little breathless.

“Don't be, s’just me.” Finally finding a hint of his feigned confidence as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, trying to hide the truth. He thought his heart might explode out of his chest at any moment, wondering if you could hear the rhythmic beat with how wildly it was thumping against his ribs.

You nod, as your words fail you, gasping, as your bodies finally brush and meet underwater, pressed chest to chest. He's warm and firm, your hands finding their way up his body to wrap your arms around his neck.

It's like time stops, the world ceases to exist around you as he closes the distance, and his lips finally meet yours. They were soft but a little chapped, not that you gave it much thought because you were trying to keep your nerves at bay.

It's a soft peck, then another. It's a little messy at first, timid and unknowing but then he tilts his head slightly, lifting his hand to cradle your jaw as his lips glide against yours. You let him take the lead, unsure of yourself but the feeling of him against you makes your head feel dizzy, closing your eyes against the onslaught of sensations running rampant.

His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, begging for entry. A small, involuntary noise emanates from the back of your throat as they part for him.

You try to pull him a little closer, as he does the same, his tongue darting out, and then a little further licking into your mouth meeting yours in a messy crescendo. He tastes of nicotine and something faintly sweet and what you could only describe as inherently Gator. A low groan passes his lips as you swallow and savor the sound.

Your lungs are on fire, aching and pleading for you to come up for air but you don't want the moment to end. For the first time in your life, you feel alive. Your body is electrified, senses on high alert, as your tummy does somersaults.

A few more seconds and he's the one to finally break, pulling away, breath heaving as he lowers his forehead to yours. Your eyes open to his, the hazel irises barely a faint ring around his dark pupils. The waves softly move around you, finally reminding you where the two of you still are, his body pressed firmly to yours and you're suddenly all too aware how exposed you feel.

Shyness creeps slowly back under your skin and you want to crawl away, duck back into the water so he can't see you.

You grin, pulling out of his reach to dive back in, leaving him there gawking back at the ripples you’ve left behind with a groan. He's very aware of the effect you have on him and his body as he tries to discreetly readjust himself.

He begrudgingly makes his way back to the shoreline so he can get dressed. It was getting late, and you needed to get back home before the sun came up.

He slides his jeans on, eyes still watching you move through the water.

“Come on! We gotta get home!” He calls out.

Sighing, you finally start to remove yourself from the water, not yet ready for the night to end but it was inevitable.

He turns away as your body is slowly revealed, feeling like he should show you some sort of privacy. He throws his shirt back on and walks back to the truck to wait on you.

A few minutes later, the passenger door swings open as you get in with sopping wet hair and clothes sticking to your still damp skin, but he thinks you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

It was a quiet ride back, neither of you quite knowing what to say. He cuts the lights and slows down as he pulls back into the drive, just as you had left, parking a little further away so the roar of the engine wouldn’t wake anyone.

You both silently exit the truck, making your way up to the house. Once you enter, the air is still, no sounds of people yet stirring as you breathe a small sigh of relief.

He's right behind you, tiptoeing up the stairs, and then down the hall, a warm hand to the small of your back as he reluctantly stops at your bedroom door.

You don't turn around, hand poised on the handle as he leans in, whispering in your ear. “I hope you had fun. Goodnight, Sunshine.” With a hum, he presses a small parting kiss to your temple before you open the door and slip in. You hear his own door open and softly close a few moments later.

You exchange your wet clothes for a soft nightgown, laying back on the feather pillow as the kiss you’d shared plays over and over again in your head. There was a permanent smile etched across your face, making your cheeks faintly hurt from overuse. A warmth was blooming deep inside your chest. You’d had your fair share of crushes, but there was no doubt in your mind this must be what it felt like to be falling in love.

-

A few weeks passed, along with a few more stolen kisses and sneaking out at midnight.

At home, you didn’t spend much time together, trying to avoid suspicion from either Roy or Nadine.

The days were filled with summer chores and nights spent hidden away in each other's beds. You enjoyed kissing him, you were happy but sometimes there was a need for more; a longing and desire you couldn’t quite satiate.

He was currently situated beside you, upper body pressed into yours as his weight pushed you further into his mattress. Your lips languidly moved against his, before his mouth began to drift across your jaw and down your neck. The ache pooling deep in your lower belly was reaching a fever pitch.

“Gator?” You ask, timidly, with your eyes still firmly shut, relishing his soft kisses across your skin.

“Hmm? Yeah?” He asks, pulling back to study your face.

“I… feel like I need more.” You blurt out, covering your face with your hands.

He groans, knowing where this conversation was headed, lifting himself off you and laying back against his pillow as you turn to your side. With a heavy sigh he replies, “We can’t.” Keeping his eyes fixed firmly toward the ceiling.

“Why not? I– I want you to be my first.” You quietly admit.

“Christ.” He mutters, raking a hand down his face, trying to choose his words carefully. He couldn’t deny his own need but this was new territory for the both of you.

“Is that— what ya’ want? Ya’ want me to—?” He can barely get his question out without stumbling over his words as he reluctantly meets your gaze. He knows you shouldn't. If Roy ever found out, he'd probably kill the both of you but he didn’t want to think about the consequences. Not when you were looking at him with your big sparkling eyes, like he’d hung the goddamn moon.

“Yes.” You breathe out softly.

“Okay,” he replies, swallowing the lump in his throat, coaxing you to lay your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you. “We can’t here, but I promise I'll think of somethin’.”

He made good on that promise a few nights later, a sweet boy trying to show a girl just how much he means to her, the only way he knew how.

Whatever happened in the barn that hot August night was between you, him and the Moon. She would forever keep your secrets safely hidden away.

-

Bliss. It was the only way to describe the high you'd been riding. Sneaking out of the house was still a regular occurrence, except most of the time you spent fogging up the inside of his truck. You both dove headfirst with reckless abandon and had little regard or worry about the consequences.

He wished to take you out on a real date, to hold your hand while watching a movie or sharing a milkshake at the diner. You both knew it would remain just that, a wish. It was too risky. Everyone knew Gator and word would surely get back to Roy so you kept your secret to yourselves to enjoy it for as long as you could.

Labels were never put on this thing between you. He never called you his girlfriend and you never saw any reason to call him your boyfriend. When you were alone, you were simply his and he was yours. Neither of you ever brought up the future, simply living in the moment and giving into your impulses as you saw fit.

Summer faded into Autumn, bringing with her the bright, crisp colors of fire and embers. Gator went back to school and you went back to your at-home studies.

The days became shorter as the weather began to grow colder heading quickly into the winter months. You spent less time outdoors, getting your chores done as quickly as possible, opting to stay in the warmth of the house as much as possible. This is when you began to notice a shift in Nadine.

She had grown a lot more quiet than usual, drawn in on herself. The usually bright and cheery nature she outwardly portrayed was no longer there, though you couldn’t blame her. The frequent abuse had never gone unnoticed, you’d only assumed he had finally broken her spirit. You’d never fully understood why she stayed with a man like Roy Tillman until it was far too late.

Roy, on the other hand, seemed to be in good spirits. There were less outbursts around the house with you and Gator managing to stay on his good side. They say hindsight is 20/20 and looking back now, it should have been clear.

She’d hugged you after supper one afternoon, something not uncommon but the way she held you tighter, letting the embrace linger for just a little longer than usual caught you a little off guard.

“You’ll be good and stay out of trouble, yeah?” She’d whispered, her voice timid.

“Of course.” You replied, squeezing her back.

“Good.” She pulled away, with an almost remorseful look in her eye. “You’re a good girl. I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow at her apology but before you could ask what she meant by it, she dropped her hold on you and left the room.

You snuck out that night for your midnight rendezvous with a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you it was a bad idea that you ultimately chose to ignore.

The engine hummed as you walked over, forcing a smile to hide the trepidation you were feeling. He had gone out ahead of you to warm up the cab.

The door opened to reveal him waiting in the driver's seat, hands cupped around his mouth, blowing on them for added warmth. He wore his thick Carharrt jacket with a black beanie covering his head. He lowered his hands to smile up at you when his eyes found yours.

“Hey Sunshine.” He greets you sweetly, as you softly reply with “hey.” Your voice came out a little more melancholy than you intended, hoping he hadn’t noticed as you climbed in, softly shutting the door behind you.

“Here.” Extending his hand toward you holding out a matching beanie. “Didn’t know if you had one. It’s gonna get hard to do the chores in the mornin’ without one. Ya’ can keep it.”

You couldn’t help the genuine smile that lifted the edges of your lips at the thoughtfulness, while he beams at you. In all honesty, it wasn’t something that you had thought to ask Nadine or Roy for.

Your fingers brush his as you take it from him before haphazardly throwing it over your head.

“Cute.” He remarks with a sideways grin. “Now, get that ass over here and warm me up.”

You giggle, moving a folded quilt he had brought along and scooting across the bench seat. When you got close, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you the rest of the way into his side. His lips leave a warm, lingering kiss to your cheek before asking if you were ready to go.

He drove with no particular destination in mind as the truck sped down deserted highways and backroads, happy to be here with you more than anything. His hand fiddles with the radio a time or two, quickly finding its place back on your thigh, as you lace your fingers with his.

You never mentioned the feeling you had or the odd way Nadine had acted, thinking it was better to keep it to yourself instead of souring the mood.

His truck comes to a stop on the lakeshore. The very spot he’d brought you countless times before. You sat there on the tailgate, pressed together with the quilt draped around both of you in comfortable silence as you held hands. The radio played softly in the background as the gentle lapping waves kissed the shore.

You move to rest your head against his shoulder with a sigh, looking out across dark water. There was no moon, no one to keep your secrets tonight.

“We won’t be able to stand the cold much longer. Hell it’ll be snowin’ in a few weeks.” He finally remarks.

“That’ll make it harder to sneak out. Won’t be able to hide our tracks.” You add, feeling a little saddened by the thought.

“Mhm. Didn’t think about that.” He hums, bringing his lips to your temple for a chaste kiss. “Guess we’ll make due in our rooms. You’ll have t’keep the noises down.”

“Gator!” You scoff, head shooting up, sending him a glare that makes him bark a laugh.

“I know. I know.” He holds a hand up in mock defence, with a grin. “Thought I’d try, anyhow.”

You shake your head, smiling back, despite yourself.

“You’re doing well at quarterback? Me and Nadine always listen to the games on her little radio.” Changing the subject before he could get any other bright ideas.

“Oh yeah, Anderson went down for a couple of weeks, and I showed em’ what I could do. Coach is going to start me next fall for senior year.” He suddenly glowed at the prospect, on his way with a full ride scholarship once he graduated.

“That’s amazing!” You praised, truly proud of him.

He lit up and began telling you a story as you watched him, everything else fading away. The slight crinkle at his eyes as his laughter carried through the clear, bright night. The warmth in the smile that he only ever reserved for you. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person on earth when he looked at you with his undivided attention. You suddenly wished so desperately you could stop time at this very moment and live here forever.

The conversation drifted for a little longer into the night until your cheeks and noses were rosy and numb. A few more laughs and stolen kisses before you reluctantly had to head back to the ranch.

He helped you back into the truck, shutting the door and rounding the front with a jog, eager for a little heat.

You were still wrapped up in the blanket looking back at him with an all too dulcet smile as he quickly hopped in and turned the ignition, hoping like hell it would warm quickly.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He says, holding your gaze, as he lifts his hands to brush some hair from your face. “Anyone ever tell ya’ that ya’ got the prettiest smile around?”

You shake your head, in reply. The smile at your lips only grows with his compliment.

“Well, ya’ do. You’re real pretty.” He turns more toward you, starting to lean in, his hand dropping to the side of your neck, warm and calloused against your cool skin.

His nose nudges yours, as slightly wind chapped lips meet yours. You melt into the kiss with a soft sigh, parting your lips for your tongues to tangle rhythmically. There was an underlying urgency as he tilted his head, his free hand slipping to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

You poured every once of what you felt for him into that kiss, hoping through actions you could convey what mere words never could.

Gator Tillman was your first love.

Though no “I love yous” were ever said aloud, you felt it in each and every moment you shared. In reality, it was a love that was never meant to last. This night would forever be ingrained as the turning point, doomed by the narrative that was laid out before you but you were both too naive to see it.

He hesitantly pulls away, resting his forehead to yours, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. He had to get you home but wanted to keep you to himself. When you think back to Gator, these are the quiet moments that pull to the forefront of your mind. The moments you tried to carry with you in your darkest days.

He smirks and pecks your lips one last time before reluctantly pulling away completely, sitting back in the seat.

“Damn.” He mutters. “I wish we had more time.”

“Me too.” You softly reply, taking up your usual spot right in beside him, not a hint of daylight between you as he shifts the truck into gear taking your leave.

It was a quiet, comfortable ride back until the house finally came back into view.

Your stomach dropped, like all the air had been sucked from the space you shared. All the lights were on and numerous deputies were parked outside. Something was terribly wrong.

Gator turned into the driveway, heart in his throat, trying to stay calm for your sake but in all honesty was scared shitless.

“Hey,” his hand resting on your thigh gave you a gentle squeeze. “It's okay, just follow my lead. Whatever it is, whatever happens, I'm right here.”

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from outside the window. Your insides were twisted, feeling like tonight's supper was going to come back up at any moment as you placed your hand on top of his, clinging onto him with an almost bruising force. You wanted to believe him but you were both truly powerless against a much bigger force.

Roy, standing on the porch, turned to see the truck. His stare was cold and indifferent, but his jaw was set. He began to walk over as Gator put the truck in park.

“Just stay in here.” He ordered, hand on the door handle, eyes pleading for you to listen to him.

“Gator,” you whimper, tears suddenly springing to your eyes. You were scared. There was no way either of you would walk away from this unscathed.

He sent you a half smile before leaving you alone in the cab with your heart hammering in your chest. You tried to take a few big, calming breaths to ease the anxiety that was coursing through your veins.

Roy's steps were heavy and calculated, reaching Gator in a matter of seconds before grabbing him by the collar pushing him harshly up against the door of the truck. You gasped out, covering your mouth.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He hissed between gritted teeth.

“We ju— just went for a drive. S’all dad. I asked her to.” His voice came out sure and steady. A scenario he'd thought about a million times, never believing it would come to fruition but he was living his worst nightmare.

“A drive? You expect me to believe that?” His grip grew a little tighter, pushing him again.

“S’the truth. I swear. You didn't have to get the whole department involved. We just went to the lake.” Shrugging nonchalantly, holding onto his lie for dear life, hoping for once he was believable.

You held your breath watching the whole thing unfold, the tension between the two only growing with each passing second.

“They ain't here for you, idiot! Nadine's gone!” He hisses.

Gator's eyes went wide with the sudden revelation.

“And then I find you sneaking out with Y/N after I told you to stay away from her?! Can't you listen to a goddamn thing I tell you?!” His voice bellowed out, sending a chill down your spine.

You looked on with horror as he held Gator by the collar with one hand, quickly raising the other, as the back of it connected with the side of his face.

“No!” You wailed, watching him slump forward as Roy then punched him in the abdomen, letting his knees hit the hard ground below. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you stood by and let this happen without trying to help him.

You immediately flew into action, jumping out of the truck and running around to the other side, throwing yourself in front of him as he lay on the ground, groaning and gasping for a breath.

“Leave him alone!” You screamed, facing Roy head on with fury in your eyes before you felt the sudden sting of his palm meeting your cheek, knocking you dazed for a moment as you fell into the rough gravel below.

“You're an ungrateful little whore!” He yelled, taking a step toward you, but Gator had somehow managed to get to his feet, tackling the older man to the ground.

“Don't you fuckin' touch her!” He yelled, his fists coming down anywhere he could land a punch.

You cradled your jaw, trying to sit up, still dazed and helpless to the scene playing out before you.

Blow after blow pelted down on Roy until one of the ranch hands and a deputy were able to finally drag Gator off of him, kicking and screaming, leading him away and toward the back of the house. He was yelling out your name when Roy slowly got up and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground turning his attention back to you.

His eyes bore into yours, staggering a step before righting himself and coming toward you like a raging bull.

You weren't quick enough to back away as he grabbed your arm with a bruising grip, pulling you to stand. Tears were free falling down your cheeks as he began to drag you to the house.

“No! Let me go!” You shrieked up at him, trying to wrench out of his grasp but he quickly turned, grabbing your other arm getting directly in your face.

“If you don't goddamn behave, I'm only going to make it worse for him.” He sneered. “You hear me?”

The implications of his words were crystal clear. Roy was capable of anything. No, God no. Please don’t let anything happen to him. When you didn't say anything, his grip on your arms only tightened as he shook you.

“Do you hear me?!”

“Yes, s—sir.” You sputter, bowing your head in defeat.

Without another word, he led you into the house and up to your room, shoving you in, causing you to trip and fall onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. You wince as your knees hit, bruising upon impact.

The door was quickly shut, with the unmistakable sound of him locking it from the outside could be heard echoing across the room.

You sat on the floor, leaned up against the bed, praying to whoever might listen. Please God, don't let Roy kill him.

[ddivilove]

─────── I WANT YOU AND YOU ALONE.

Regret.

The first feeling you feel after all you and that monster had been through. There is no doubt about it, regret shall always stay.

A foolish decision it was to befriend the crowned prince as a child as if it would spare you from his manipulative attacks... But proven otherwise here you are playing victim to his puppetry once more.

Eros had been nice enough to give you a place to stay and food and drink to live off of, but his intentions shriek at your face like a war cry. The man is a monstrous being that had now found attachment to you and you alone.

Infatuation.

Obsessive behavior had been cleared but not at the right time. You had never noticed, no. Not a single peep until your things suddenly went missing... Little. By. Little.

At first you did not think much of it until the undergarments started going missing. Suspecting that the maids stole them, you spoke with Eros who deliberately inquired the maids himself.

It doesn't take long before you found the one true culprit though. That being said, you had simply rummaged through Eros' things when you found your undergarments stained with...y'know. Horrified by your discovery you didn't dare waste a second in this place any longer.

With intention to leave, you plot a departure one cool night. All went rather well...until you blacked out that is.

Imprisonment.

Being a prisoner was far worse than being his adorable doll. You were chained to a bed in a room you cannot escape from and the only times he ever came to you was when he needed your loving touch and affection.

Imprisoned here drove you mad, but you'd rather stay than be his little doll again. His intention of you sitting still and looking pretty was a rather humiliating and pride hurting task. One you didn't have a care for.

It takes a long long while but eventually...you give in to him.

Acceptance.

You sit here on his lap being the good obedient pet you are. Eros showered you with kisses as his hands roam high and low in a gentle caress.

His lips lock with yours as you two kiss passionately.

Accepting that he is your master is everything to him. His possessiveness drove him half as mad.

His lips nibble on your earlobe as he whispered sweet nothings.

You are his and he is yours. No one will take you away from him now.

─────── TAGLIST

@yevene HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY SORRY THIS IS SO LATE

[unforgivenn]

SHACKLED BY ROYALTY

#2: Andrey's Chamber

Guys please send in some asks or requests for writing cuz my brain is too dead and can't think of anything right now. I need some ideas, please. Anyywayssss part 2 of shackled by Royalty!!

CW: threat of harm, whip mention, future punishment, slavery, pet whump, dominating and creepy whumper, captivity, slight panic attack, stress position, knives, defiant whumpee

Previous/ Masterlist

Noah's mind whirled with a mix of panic and defiance as he found himself trapped in this nightmarish scenario. He had heard tales of the Kozlov family's iron grip over the region, their name synonymous with power and ruthlessness. And now, he was at the mercy of their heir apparent. Forced to become a slave.

The question echoed relentlessly in Noah's mind "Why me..?"

Andrey circled him like a predator ready to pounce on their prey, his gaze cold and calculating, relishing in Noah's helplessness. "You belong to me now, pet," he declared with chilling finality. "Your life is mine to command."

Noah's mind whirled with a maelstrom of emotions—fear, anger, confusion—all entwined in a tangled web of despair. Trapped in this nightmarish reality, he struggled to grasp onto any semblance of hope or escape. Noah's mind raced, trying to piece together fragments of information, to make sense of the nightmare unfolding before him. Viktor Kozlov—the name reverberated in his mind like a death knell. He had heard whispers of the Kozlov family, whispers of their influence and ruthlessness. But never in his wildest nightmares did he imagine he would become entangled in their web of darkness.

"P-Please.." Noah's breath came in ragged gasps, his heart hammering in his chest so hard, that he might've just thought he was going insane. "I don't know what you want from me, but I-I swear.. I swear, I'll do anything-"

He heard the prince sighing as if Noah was nothing more than just a mere child unable to understand a simple thing. "Oh my dear pet.." Andrey's demeanor shifted, amusement dancing in his cold eyes as he toyed with Noah's desperation. His fingers curled under Noah's chin.

"You still think you can get away from this huh?" He spoke in an almost.. pitiful voice putting a finger to Noah's chest noticing how he almost suddenly flinched. "You belong to me.. Body, mind and soul. And I will mold you into the perfect servant, the perfect pet, to serve me and my family's interests."

Noah's breath caught in his throat, the weight of Andrey's words crushing him beneath their unbearable truth. He was no longer a free man—he was a prisoner, a plaything, at the mercy of forces beyond his control. A mere pet. Not even a person anymore in the eyes of the government and authorities.

"S-Stop! You're insane!! YOU CAN'T KEEP ME HERE!" Noah's protest was met with a brutal slap, the sting reverberating through his skull. How many times had he been slapped today?

"You've had your chances pet. But I can't let you go around talking back whenever you want to." His face had become undeniably dark, as if he was ready to murder someone. Andrey looked at the two guards standing from the corner of his eye before he ordered "Get him to the chamber"

Noah's face paled. "W-What? WHAT CHAMBER?! STOP LET ME GO!" He struggled, kicking his legs and punching as the guards removed some of his chains dragging him to the dreaded "chamber".

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

Noah had been suspended, with his arms chained above his head. His feet were barely grazing the ground, being in an overly uncomfortable position as all his weight went primarily to his shoulders and arms. His breath was shallow and labored, a testament to the panic and anxiety coursing through him. Maybe he shouldn't have said all that... But then again he didn't really regret what he said. That bastard deserved that and more.

As if on cue, the door was slammed open earning a violent flinch from Noah. Andrey came in poised with the usual "princely type" manner. A cruel smile twisted Andrey's lips, revealing teeth like sharpened daggers ready to tear into flesh. The air around him seemed to grow thick with malevolence, suffocating Noah with its suffocating presence. As he towered over Noah, his presence looming like a specter of death, Andrey's fingers curled into fists, the knuckles white with suppressed fury.

This was different. It wasn't just slaps anymore. Andrey looked like he was about to rip off Noah's skin. Noah felt shivers trickling down his skin. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, a primal instinct urging him to flee from the impending danger that lurked in Andrey's gaze but the chains on him were clearly against that.

"Cat got your tongue now?" Andrey practically hissed at Noah walking over to the varieties of tools laid down on a table that Noah hadn't even noticed yet. And he wished he hadn't. HIs voice sent shivers down Noah's spine as he looked at the different instruments and judging which one to pick silently.

Noah remained silent, knowing that any words would only invite further punishment. His eyes widened in terror as Andrey's hand closed around a whip, the promise of pain gleaming in his eyes.

But it was the sight of the knife that truly chilled Noah to the bone. Andrey's approach was deliberate, his breath hot against Noah's ear as he whispered his sinister command.

"Stay very still, Noah..."

Next

Taglist: @ash-reh @anutz1234 @miireux134 @whatwasmyprevioususername @nuriiz134 (Let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist)

[shewolfofvilnius]

There is a huge part of me that is curious about dragon age because I love BG3 so much. But idk anything about it? Also none of the characters strike me as interesting (or attractive....) Maybe you could tell me what you like so much about ? maybe talk about the characters so I can give it a chance? I want to like it! but I just don't know!

I DIDN'T FORGET

So for me the first draw of Dragon Age is the incredible lore and worldbuilding that goes on in the games and books. It's arguably just as fleshed out as a setting like the Forgotten Realms despite just being three (soon four) video games and about a dozen books/comics. There's centuries of history. Ancient ruins. Environmental storytelling for days. A little visual cue in the first game that's referenced in optional banter in the third that pays off in the fourth (FIFTEEN years apart). I really appreciate that the first game, Dragon Age: Origins, only exposes you to part of the story. The game's set in a pestilence known as the Fifth Blight, and you're the plucky young adventurer that the grizzled old veteran manages to recruit out of a bad situation just before the end. And you and your friends are all that stand between victory and oblivion. But right off the bat there's storytelling about love and loss and prejudice and honor. There's a noble character who dies, leading to a coward being killed as the stakes are built. (There's also a dog you can pet, and moments to show kindness during armageddon, like a prisoner who just wants a sandwich before he dies, he hasn't been fed.)

And the banter is funny (if some of it's aged a bit unwell), and the gameplay really encourages you to get in the head of whatever character you want to build. Yes you can be the cliche prince charming. You can also be the sibling of a prostitute to pay the bills until your sister lands a high profile john who catches feels for her. From the start it's equal measures hopeful and bleak at the same time. (And as you invest in YOUR character emotionally, you inevitably emotionally invest in your companions too.) And gradually the world gets bigger. A character whose town you watch get destroyed becomes the protagonist of the second game, and they hook you in to. They're a refugee, a very timely story, and if they're a magic user, then they're an especially persecuted refugee. But you still make friends amidst the hopelessness. More of the world gets revealed. You have FUN, somehow. Characters from past games recur, either as cameos or in one very specific case as a high profile recurring character in 3 out of the 4. And you become so glad to see them as they represent continuity of story.

It's a game about family and faith and the lack thereof and prejudice and love and how one counters the other, about how persecuted people often pay the price of things that happened before their ancestors' ancestors were born, and that tomorrow should always be better than today.

That's thematic, though. Maybe you take a shine to Isabela the Pirate and Aveline the Guard Captain (maybe Merrill the blood mage elf, too). The three women basically form one of the best depictions of big/middle/little sister trios I've ever seen in a game. What starts out as cold hostility becomes banterful compassion and love. A lot of folks fell for Solas, an elven apostate whose every word is couched in three mysteries and two half-truths but seems to know way more than he's letting on. When you find out a horrible secret about the honourable Grey Warden Blackwall, do you leave him to his fate, try to redeem him, deliver a sufficient consequence, or outright torture him.

And you won't like everyone. The odds of you liking both the spirit-possessed mage Anders and the anti-magic elf Fenris in the same play of the same game are low unless you metagame it. And sometimes the games even rewards you for someone hating your ass or vice versa, and THAT'S organic. But being mean or having a negative interaction isn't some edgelord thing either, it's just "sometimes people don't get along" or "something you just need to punch someone"

You get to laugh at the tough stern warrior Cassandra getting absolutely beside herself wanting to know what happens in a book that it's writer, another of your companions, hated writing - and that even Cass herself calls smutty literature. Another character, The Iron Bull, is faced with a choice: His found family and the freedom to be who he's become, or the belief system he's known his entire life and that expects him to conform.

Does your character sacrifice? Does your character make the streets run red with blood? Is all you want to make people feel inspired and in something bigger than themselves? Even playing three (soon four) wholly new characters, you get to truly role-play and emotionally invest in these little blorbos, maybe even more strongly in Baldur's Gate. When a character returns you weren't expecting, is it joyful or melancholy? Can your character handle a confrontation of everything they've ever known.

And in the newest game, there's a baby griffon.

I love Dragon Age. The lore is expansive beyond sanity for a franchise with it's commercial output. The characters feel alive, and the game tasks you to emotionally invest in order to reap the maximum reward and suffer the strongest heartache. Plus, in many cases, when the game doesn't tell you, say about your character? You get to roleplay and use your imagination so, so strongly.