Cruelle, Darling

...The Viper's Pet~Pt. 1

~Author's Note: For those of you who are new: STOP! There's an installment before this since this is kinda like a sequel.

~To others, welcome welcome!! So a little heads up: this first part is gonna be a bit long cause, well, <3Cruelle<3 lol. Everyone enjoy!!~

The next two and a half months as Cruelle De Vil's muse went by quick enough, and you have begun to genuinely enjoy the relationship of muse and artist-or 'master', as he continually refers to himself as.

You know you had said you'd adapt to his dry yet sexualized sense of humor and work ethic, but it took weeks to get used to the slit pieces of fabric Cruelle called dresses. But then you'd put them on and feel his eyes devouring your curved figure and remember why you love doing this.

What little effort Cruelle had made to disguise his staring has ebbed away till only shameless eyeing remains, not that you complain in the least. There's simply nothing more empowering than having him practically undress you with his eyes. That, and when Roxanne is around to catch it then fights to control her temper. He never notices, or he does but just doesn't care.

There are the nights where you're summoned not to model, but to, like you originally assumed you'd be doing, sit there and be inspirational, kinda-Cruelle's actually found a beneficial implement for your constant chatter and now uses it as a distraction from rage when he's viewing the maddeningly shitty catalogue his employees sent him. Initially, he offered you wine and asked a generic question to get you talking, inserting more trigger questions or responses when you went quiet. But recently he's been...different, in a good way. He listens more intently, watching you as you laugh or give a dimpled smile. Judging from Roxanne's reactions to her boss' behavior, you deduce it's out of character for him one way or another.

At this point, it really feels like the perfect life.

Then the incident. It's a Friday and you clock in at your job as Assistant Art Director to find out that you no longer are employed by them. In a panic, you ask why, only to find your "master" has personally called them to say you no longer needed their services and that he was now in charge of your career.

"...What?!" you scream.

You immediately affront Cruelle. You barge into his penthouse after driving like a madman to run into Roxanne who appears to be sorting through his mail-fan mail included.

"Miss (y/n)," she says dryly. "Your company isn't required for another hour."

"I need to talk to Cruelle now," you demand.

"Mr. De Vil isn't available at the moment," she retorts. She really hates it when you refer to her boss by his first name. "Please come back at the requested time."

It's not in your nature to threaten people, but when they screw with your job, it was a different story. Through clenched teeth, you seethe, "Tell me where he is now or I swear to God I'll walk out like Vanessa did, and it'll be on your head."

Roxanne's brown eyes narrow into dagger-like slits and she scowls, but you hold your ground. You can hear the pen in her hand creaking under stress. She exhales hard through flared nostrils. "He's downstairs with his fur collection," she spits.

Without hesitating, you dart for the elevator and descend to the 11th floor. "Cruelle!" you call when the doors glide open, though you can't see him among the now sole, massive collection of furs.

The clinking of metal hangers sliding across bars sounds. "(Y/n), you're not supposed to be here for another hour." His voice indicates deep concentration. He hums then chuckles after a pause. "Was the distance too much for you, darling?"