boldlygloriousqueen

[boldlygloriousqueen]

Do you think you could write Sukuna spoiling his concubine?

Your wish is my command, but let me add a bit of spice 👐

18 +MDNI

☆ Toxic/Possessive Sukuna, fingering, oral (fem receiving), cunnilingus, mentions of double p, and mentions of childbearing. ☆

The night air in the palace is thick with tension. The queen and other concubines whisper bitterly amongst themselves, their eyes often narrowing with jealousy when you pass by. Yet, none of that matters. Not when you feel Sukuna��s gaze, sharp as a blade, following your every move. It’s a gaze that sends shivers down your spine, a gaze that makes you feel both vulnerable and utterly desired.

Sukuna Ryomen has had countless concubines, each more beautiful than the last, but there’s something about you that’s different. Something he can’t quite place but knows he can’t resist. You’ve become his favorite, a position that comes with both perks and perils. He admires the way you carry yourself—graceful yet strong, submissive yet possessing a quiet defiance that intrigues him. The softness of your skin, the curve of your lips, the way you react to his every touch—all of it drives him mad with desire. He likes that you aren’t like the others, who cower and bend to his will without question. You challenge him in your subtle way, and that only makes him want you more.

You’ve seen how the others envy you, their eyes dark with jealousy whenever Sukuna pulls you close or lavishes his attention on you. They hate how he spoils you, how he indulges your every whim. But what they don’t understand is that Sukuna’s affection is as dangerous as it is intoxicating. He doesn’t love you in the conventional sense—he doesn’t know how to. But in his twisted way, he is utterly and possessively yours.

Sukuna shows his affection through acts that blur the line between dominance and devotion. When you’re alone with him, away from the prying eyes of the court, he’s different. He’s still the cruel, unpredictable King of Curses, but with you, there’s a softness in his touch, an almost tender care in the way he handles you. He likes to watch you to see how you react to his presence, and it’s during these moments that he’ll reach out, pulling you to him with an unbreakable strength.

One night, after a particularly heated day of courtly duties, Sukuna summons you to his private chambers. The air is thick with the scent of incense, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. As you enter, you find him seated on his throne, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he beckons you closer. Without a word, you approach, and he pulls you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a way that’s both protective and possessive.

His chest is solid against your back, his breath warm on your neck as he leans in, inhaling the scent of your hair. “You know you drive them mad,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “All of them wish they could take your place.”

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch. He likes that they’re jealous. He likes that it only solidifies your place by his side. His hand moves to your chin, tilting your head back so that your eyes meet his. There’s a darkness in his gaze, a hunger that never seems to be fully sated, no matter how often he has you.

Slowly, Sukuna lowers his head, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both demanding and possessive. His mouth is hot against yours, his kiss searing, as if he’s trying to brand you as his own. His other hand slides to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, as if he can’t get enough of you. The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of heated passion.

When he finally pulls away, you’re left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Sukuna’s eyes are half-lidded, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he takes in the sight of you. “You belong to me,” he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Don’t ever forget that.”

In the days that follow, Sukuna continues to spoil you, giving you everything you could ever want or need. Whether it’s the finest silks, rare jewels, or simply his time, he gives it all to you without hesitation. He enjoys seeing the others fume, their jealousy only fueling his desire to spoil you even more. But he also knows when to give in to you, when to let you have your way. It's a dangerous game you play with him, one that both excites and terrifies you.

A joyous day it was when your birthday came along. Not only did you have the king all to yourself, but the servants and the men of his court found it to be a day they didn't have to worry about losing their heads. Sukuna had you sitting on top of your desk where you read and wrote on. His lower hands came to rest on either side of your hips, gripping them with intimidating strength that anchored you in place. His upper hands cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle given the power that lurked beneath his skin. His thumbs brushed along your jawline, tilting your head slightly upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His lips hovered just above yours for a moment, the anticipation thick in the air. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of him intoxicating. And then, without warning, he closed the gap, his mouth crashing onto yours with a hunger that left no room for hesitation.

The kiss was anything but soft—it was demanding, all-consuming, as if Sukuna was intent on claiming every part of you with just his lips. His tongue slid past your parted lips, exploring your mouth with a fierce possessiveness that made your heart race. He tasted of something dark and forbidden, a flavor that was uniquely his, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

As his upper hands held your face in place, his lower hands tightened their grip on your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk until there was no space left between you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, seeking to bring him even closer, though the solid weight of his body had already pressed you firmly against the desk.

Sukuna’s kiss deepened, growing more intense with every passing second. His tongue moved with a skill that left you breathless, a mix of rough and smooth alternating between coaxing and commanding. The sheer power of his kiss made it feel like he was drawing the very breath from your lungs, leaving you lightheaded and completely at his mercy.

His upper hands slid from your face, one tangling in your hair, gripping it just tight enough to send a delicious thrill of pain down your spine, while the other trailed down the side of your neck, his fingers tracing the pulse that raced beneath your skin. His touch was a reminder of the control he held over you, a control that you both knew you could never escape. The moment you pulled away to breathe in the air was the time he took to ask you,

"Tell me what you desire. It shall be yours."

"I'm not sure I know what more I could want?"

"Perhaps more jewels, dresses, a pet to keep you company when I'm away from court, or maybe," he leaned towards your ear, his hot breath grazing your skin as he whispered, "You need me to pound my cock in those spoiled holes of yours for the rest of the day as a gift, hmm?"

"Those do sound like great gifts, but something crossed my mind this afternoon. I wonder..." her eyes shifted to him, "what would it be like to have a king on his knees and in between my legs?"

He’d smirk respond with a smirk, his crimson eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer, his voice dripping with a mix of arrogance and desire.

“Oh? Is that what you want, my little temptress?” he’d purr, one of his hands trailing along your thigh. You sheepishly grin as you turn your head. You knew he would end up doing it. Not because he felt like he had to. Oh, no — he was doing it because he found your boldness amusing as always.

When Sukuna Ryomen decided to indulge his favorite concubine, he did so with the same intensity and dominance that defined everything else he did.

Sukuna wasn’t one to rush, especially not when it came to you. He would begin by having you stripped bare before him, taking his time to admire your body with an appreciative gaze. His eyes would linger on every curve, every mark that he had left on you in moments of passion. It was ecstasy to his eyes.

With you sitting before him, Sukuna would lower himself, his breath ghosting over your skin, teasing and taunting you with the anticipation of what was to come. His hands, large and powerful, would grip your thighs, spreading them wide, ensuring that you were completely exposed to him.

"Look at this beauty." You shivered at his fingers that grazed over your exposed cunt.

"Don't tease me, my king."

"So impatient. We'll have to work on that one of these days."

When his mouth finally descended, he would start slowly, dragging his tongue languidly along your most sensitive bud, testing your reactions, savoring every shiver, and gasp that escaped your lips. Sukuna was a master at knowing exactly how to drive you wild, alternating between feather-light touches and deeper, more insistent strokes that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. One hand brushed through his hair as you slowly felt a knot in your stomach tie itself up.

He would pull you closer, his grip tightening as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue flicking and swirling with an almost torturous precision. The sensation of his mouth on you, combined with the raw, primal hunger he exuded, would be overwhelming. His teeth would graze against your skin, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to send a jolt of sensation through your body, a reminder that he could be both your pleasure and your pain.

Sukuna’s lips sucking with a deliberate slowness that built the tension within you to unbearable heights. He’d revel in the way your body responded to him, your back arching off the bed, your hands grasping desperately at anything within reach. He’d chuckle darkly at your helplessness, his voice vibrating against you, adding another layer of stimulation that pushed you closer to the edge.

As he continued, Sukuna’s fingers found their way inside of you, pumping in and out. They would delve deeper, exploring every inch of you with a fervor that spoke of his insatiable desire to consume you entirely. The rhythm would shift between slow, torturous strokes to quick, relentless flicks that had you teetering on the brink of release. He chuckled as he admired your heat. Your flesh was gripping down on him tightly, not wanting to let him go for even a moment.

"Haa...I can never forget how tight you get when I tease you. Look at these juices you're producing. I wonder if you'll make even more if I reach deeper."

"My...king, you, ahh—shouldn't say such lewd words."

"My words can't compare to your shameless moans. It's almost like you want everyone in the palace to hear you."

And when he sensed you were close, Sukuna would pull back, just enough to leave you aching for more, to remind you who was in control. “Do you want to come?” he’d ask, his voice husky, his breath hot against your soaked skin.

"Y-yes, please, my king. May-I?."

"Don't hold back then. Be a good girl and come for your king."

The climax he would wrench from you would be nothing short of earth-shattering. Your body would arch and quiver beneath the relentless onslaught of Sukuna’s expert touch, his mouth working you over with a ferocity that left you utterly undone. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth, would push you closer to the brink until all coherent thought dissolved into a pure, raw sensation. Your hands would clutch desperately at his head, fingers curling as you tried to ground yourself, but it would be futile against the overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing through you. Sukuna would take his time, savoring each tremor that coursed through your body, his dark, satisfied chuckle the only sound that cut through your final moan as your cunt finally caved, leaving your legs shaking and you whimpering.

You laid your back against the wood of the table, grazing your hand over your neck just to make sure you were still alive. Your eyes flickered to Sukuna when you found your legs being forced to open wider than before. You could feel something hard, something angry and desperate rubbing against your abused clit. His cock was staring straight at you, pent up from being ignored till now.

"I think I can offer you a gift far more precious than the last." His nails lightly grazed your stomach, a predatory smirk tugging at his lips. "I’ll let you bear my seed—carry the heir of a king. Consider it the highest honor you’ll ever receive on this glorious day."

[boldlygloriousqueen]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!queen!reader, sex on command, degradation, Griffith is lowkey misogynistic, titty fucking, spit kink, cum marking, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day two [ griffith + tit job ]

“I can be the most perfect gentleman that a lady could require, but I have an sneaking inkling that Her Majesty wants a scoundrel, instead. A dirty mercenary, a ruthless animal, to fuck her the way her king never could.”

you should’ve had him apprehended the moment he murmured those words, close enough to your ear to kiss the shell of it. you should’ve seen him in shackles, whipped and tortured, for daring to speak in such a way to the Queen of Midland, but you didn’t. you stared, straight ahead, and bit your tongue to keep from expelling a breathless moan. you allowed him to leave your side after that, melting into the crowded ballroom, mingling with the other nobles. his eyes lingered on you only for a moment, before they drift away, to keep from being overly suspicious. you had merely stood there, in shock, as you process his willingness to approach you in front of the Courts and your husband, and whisper something so heinous.

something so true.

it had been at your own behest, after all, that the young mercenary would become your plaything whilst fighting for your country, but it had been an arrangement brought to him in secrecy by your ladies in waiting, and he was meant to act discreetly. you glanced around, and realize that no one had been any the wiser. not even your husband, whose sharp eyes seemed to always watch you with disdain, had noticed Griffith whisper to you.

when you look back at him, he’s no longer focused on you, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face that you knew had to be for you, and not the generals he was conversing with. he must’ve caught your flustered seeking from his peripheral vision, and it must’ve amused him to no end.

damn him.

you managed to sit through the majority of the festivities, pretending to be enthralled by your husband’s banter with his retainers, but every so often, you would carve a line of sight directly to Griffith. you would stare at him, admiring each flawless detail from the plumpness of his lips to the long, heavy lashes that fan the apples of his porcelain cheeks, to the silvery curtainous tresses that were so carefully secured in a low ponytail to cascade down his back. he was so beautiful, and you began to fantasize about what his silken locks would feel like if you were to grip fistfuls of them, how his velvety pout will feel as he presses it flush to your sex, the way your back would arch if he pushed his tongue inside your hole, aching and clenching for him…

when you started to shift in your seat, rubbing your thighs together, you knew you had to make an escape. you couldn’t go another moment without Griffith in your bed, and so you promptly excused yourself, and several of your servant girls followed you up to your bed chamber.

Griffith’s sapphire gaze was keen enough to notice you leave, and he waited several more minutes, inching towards the exit until he could slip away, completely undetected.

Griffith’s let in to your bedroom before he can knock, and the ladies are swift to leave the two of you alone before he can close the door behind him. “Have you considered my counter offer, Your Majesty?” he asks with a soft tinge of amusement in his voice. he pushes the heavy, wooden lock in place against the door, his glacieresque gems focused only on the way you approached him, staring up at him with sparkling awe in your eyes. “Would you still prefer to have me as you wish, or would you find more pleasure in allowing me the honor to use your body?”

“I don’t want the obedient gentleman,” you blurt out, grasping the thick lapels of his coat, to pull yourself closer to him. “I want the scoundrel. The beast.”

“Is that so…?” Griffith grabs your shoulders, halting you in place as you speak, the ghost of a smirk tickling his lips. “Then the beast is what you shall have.” it’s a whisper, heavy with desire as both of his hands glide down to envelope the shape of your breasts through your gown. the fabric is thick, but as both fists reach up for the neckline, your breath catches in your throat. a swift yank, and silk screams as he tears at the neckline, stretching and ripping until your breasts jiggle free. your nipples harden almost instantly as they’re exposed to the cool atmosphere, and your back arches— the force and carelessness he exhibits in order to expose your chest pulling you off balance. he swoons at the sight, cradling your breasts with both hands. your nipples slide along the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, before he experiments with pinching the hardened buds. you let out a soft whimper.

Griffith’s hands are almost unnervingly soft for a mercenary general, and they’re warm as he kneads your breasts. your head tilts back and you expel a long, heavy breath as he tilts his head to watch your countenance closely. “I’ve hardly touched you, Your Majesty, and you’re already mewling for me.” his pupils are blown out as he tugs on your nipples, and watches in delight as you squirm and moan. “I suppose these pillowy tits of yours are sensitive enough to make you cum all alone…” his knee worms under your multitude of skirts, to press against your sex. with a surprised gasp, your thighs clamp around his leg, but it was already too late. his digit tips roll over your nipples in smooth teases, pressing them like buttons as you squirm and gasp, and grind your slick against his knee. “The king must not appreciate them. But I will.”

groping thick handfuls of squishy flesh, a groan gurgles at the back of his throat as he pushes your tits together, smashing them against each other, and his icy gaze flickers up to you. “Do you know what I love the best about a woman’s tits?” he asks, in a soft baritone that seems to send a quake straight to your core. you moan, breathless, and shake your head, before his own dips low enough to run his tongue in a thin stripe that creeps up the length of your cleavage, before he expels in a whisper, “They’re soft and warm, and when pressed together like this, create such a delicious hole to fuck.”

your head was spinning already at his words, so when his hands glide upwards and grip your shoulders, forcing the Queen of Midland to her knees in front of him, breasts jiggling and exposed and dress askew on your frame, you bent to his will without protest. “There we are. A pretty, obedient queen. Are you so awestruck by the visage of my peasant cock sliding between your royal breasts that you fold so easily?” there’s a faint smile on his kissable pout now, a powerful one, and he grasps hold of your chin with one hand, using the other to undo the complexity of his breeches. he forces your face up, to stare at him directly, and you swoon at the hard grip on your chin. “I will enjoy defiling you, little queen. But what’s even more exciting is that you will enjoy it so much more.”

your face was flushed of its usual tone, eyelids fluttering as they struggle to stay open. the heat between your bodies was almost too much to bear already. “Use me…” you plead, quietly, needy. “Use me, mercenary, degrade me. Do so and I will see to it that you climb the military ranks to your heart’s content.”

this pleases Griffith, and he runs his thumb over your trembling bottom lip, looming over your kneeling frame as he pumps his cock to attention. as it swells, and hardens, your eyeline drifts downwards and you become entranced at the thought, your mouth hanging open in expectancy.

“Such a beautiful mouth, warm and wet,” Griffith purrs, pushing his thumb in to anchor it against the fleshy inside of your cheek, “you know well a woman’s duty and where and how to take a cock, and I’m certain your mouth has been well trained by your husband.” your cheeks heat up with humiliation as he teases your gag reflex with his fingers, you cluck and try to push his fingers out, but they remain, and you only end up dribbling drool out of your mouth with an embarrassed whimper. “But I will need you to save these talents for him, your lovely mouth is your weapon, and you’ve just become my greatest ally in my war for my dream. You will use it so efficiently, pleasing your husband and whispering those persuasive words in his ear, until I have surpassed every general in his army. You will do this for me, yes?” you nod, batting your eyelashes, swirling your tongue around his fingers. Griffith was so breathtaking, and in this moment you were so aroused and at his mercy, that you would’ve agreed to do anything for him. “Very good, my desperate little queen. Now, save these lovely lips for their task, and I will fuck your luscious tits, instead.”

both of his hands find their way to your breasts again, and he takes a step forward, his stance wide imposing as his feet plant themselves on either side of your poofy skirt. the way his thick, hard cock lays against your chest is almost as if it had sought out its new home, and he pushes your breasts to mold around it, forming a tight canal as he teased a couple of strokes. with a slow rock of his hips, his cock tunnels between your breasts, the puffy, pink tip peeking out by your chin, and he rolls his head on his shoulders, eliciting a soft and pleasured sigh. “Very soft.” he croons, closing his eyes, his fingers digging into your squishy tits as his pace starts to pick up. “The perfect sheath for my cock, don’t you agree?”

you were too busy staring at the display, watching his sex glide between your breasts, that you simply elicit a quiet babble of a yes, your arms bent up by your sides, your hands balled into fists.

“My dear queen has never been degraded quite like this, her body used by cock in ways her sweet, little brain couldn’t even imagine,” he all but moans at the realization, working his jaw for a moment. “Look up at me, little queen. Let me see your mouth hanging open, the desire to suck what’s just out of your reach.”

you do as instructed, but you hardly so much as peek before you hear the sound of him expectorating— his spit splattering against your top lip and dripping down into your waiting mouth, mixing with your own that had gathered in a thirsty pool. you flinch, surprised, but then look up at him, wide eyed.

no one’s ever spit on you before.

and you liked it.

a lot.

Griffith’s grin is loose, his lips parted as he starts to pant, bucking his hips more forcefully, faster, fucking your titties with reckless abandon, kneading them roughly.

“You liked that, did you?” it was as if he could read your mind, his icy blue irises seeming to glow in the dim candlelight of your bedroom. “You are more and more fetching, the filthier I discover that you are.”

“A—again,” you whine, only to be graced with another shower of spit, and you moan, gratefully, before blurting out, “Thank you!”

the depravity in your voice was something you’d never heard before, especially not from yourself, and it should’ve been humiliating. but it wasn’t. it was exhilarating and liberating.

“Close,” Griffith grunts, his chest heaving, still adorned with his ruffled tie. the fact that he was still mostly clothed made this encounter all the more promiscuous, “I’m right there… right… there…” he was grinding his teeth, because you’d tucked your chin, pressing your lips together in a lazy O, letting his tip kiss the shape over and over. each time he drew back, you could taste the sticky sweet precum he left stamped to your lips. “Ah,” Griffith releases a sound, a croak as he grabs your hair at the root, pulling your head back and allowed his other hand to fall from your breasts, taking hold of his cock at its mighty base. his fingers rub against the fluffy, silver pubic hair his cock sprouts from, before starting to pump up and down wildly. “I will paint those beautiful tits of yours, my whorish queen. So you can smell of me. And remember how thoroughly I’ve fucked them—“

he hardly gets the words out before his release erupts from the swollen head of his cock, casting long, warm white streamers over your heaving breasts. your hands scramble to push them together, mimic the way he had to fuck them, so you may gather the entirety of his semen upon their expanse, and you peer up at him with wide, happy eyes. “G—Griffith…”

his ragged breath starts to slow, his platinum bangs damp and sticking to his forehead and his temple when he finally releases your hair with a heavy, satisfied sigh, “Did you enjoy that, Your Majesty?”

watching him come undone and quickly recover had your mind going blank, and your thighs sticky with your need, but you thoughtlessly nod, attempting to form the words themselves, but none came to your lips.

it’s all right, though, because Griffith pulls you to your feet. “Lovely, because now I will bend you over your vanity and tend to that sopping wet cunt of yours.”

[boldlygloriousqueen]

⌕ berserk - griffith.

like or reblog if you save/use.

[boldlygloriousqueen]

Garden of Forbidden Melodies | Chapter one | Sukuna x oc

TW: This fanfiction will contain mature content such as smut, violence, blood, and sensitive topics. You have been warned and enjoyed ♡ -J.B

' ' = Inner thoughts

No warnings for this chapter

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘, 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎, (𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗)

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆: 𝑬𝒏𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒆

𝗜𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺, golden light of a late afternoon, a young woman sat poised on the tatami mat. With her legs crossed beneath her and her hair neatly arranged in a bun, she struggled against the oppressive heat of summer. The biwa rested comfortably against her chest, its polished wood gleaming softly in the light. As she began to play, her fingers danced deftly over the strings, creating a melody that floated through the air like a gentle breeze.

Hana’s eyes fluttered closed, her dark lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. Each stroke of her fingers was precise and deliberate, the music guiding her mind around the village. She could not see anything, but she could feel everything—the laughter of children, the friendly banter of men sharing stories, and the rhythmic sound of women weaving clothes.

Across from her sat a man slightly older than she—a storm brewing beneath his tense exterior. With arms crossed tightly over his chest and a furrowed brow, Kizuki Yoshida, the village leader and her uncle, watched her intently. His frustration simmered, echoing in the tightness of his features. Something felt amiss in the village, a presence that did not belong, and this disturbance was unlike anything she had encountered before.

As Hana continued to play, lost in her realm of melodies, the ethereal notes contrasted sharply with the tension in the room. She could sense the music reaching for him, but it only seemed to bounce off the walls, finding no reciprocation. Despite pouring her heart into the biwa, his irritation remained unchanged, a stone wall against her art.

She was not oblivious to his discontent; she could have chosen a gentler melody to soften his mood. However, Kizuki had constantly failed to send over the necessary herbs and medicines for her ailing brother, Isamu. Why should she expend her energy for a man who saw her mere existence as a nuisance? Despite her frustrations, Hana had reluctantly let him into her home when word reached her about the disappearance of a local woman.

The shoji door slid open suddenly, and her little brother Isamu, just ten years old, entered, bowing as he approached Kizuki. His pale skin and bright, cheerful features contrasted sharply with Hana’s more reserved demeanor—a reflection of their late mother’s gentility.  With black hair and warm brown eyes, Isamu received a bright smile from Hana despite the heavy air between her and their uncle.

“Hello, Uncle Kizuki,” he chirped, innocent of the tension.

Kizuki’s only response was a twitch of irritation. “Are you done, Hana?”

Lost in her thoughts, Hana took a deep breath, her fingers stilling on the strings. “I cannot find it, Uncle.”

“What?!” His voice erupted, slamming his fist against the table and rattling the teacups. “What do you mean by that?! This is something you should be an expert on!"

Remaining composed, Hana responded, “This isn’t just any curse. This energy is different—strong enough that I know it’s somewhere in the village, but it has hidden itself well.”

Kizuki stood abruptly, pacing the room with agitation. Isamu twisted his face in concerned confusion, choosing to crawl toward Hana, holding onto her arm. Though Hana’s eyes never left Kizuki, she squeezed her brother’s small, warm hand reassuringly.

“If I was allowed inside the village—"

“No! Out of the question.” Kizuki rubbed his temple, annoyance morphing into anger as he continued. “I won’t have you scaring everyone half to dead.”

“Trust me, Uncle, I am nowhere near as dangerous as being inside the village with whatever lies within it. Uncle—”

“No.” He snapped, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

“Uncle, please just listen to me. I can—”

“Did you hear me?” He shot back, his voice a low growl.

Leaning forward, Hana pressed on, urgency lacing her words. “That thing is hurting people. Innocent people.”

Kizuki’s frustration only deepened. “Stop attempting to brainwash me! You think you know better than me? There’s a reason you two were sent up here. You cause chaos and disrupt the peace I’ve worked hard to maintain. Be thankful our family hasn’t decided to—”

“The medicine, Uncle!”

He groaned in annoyance. “What?”

“Isamu’s medicine. His monthly dosage should have been sent here a week ago, but it wasn’t.” A long pause stretched between them, and Kizuki turned back, a mocking smirk replacing his previous aggression.

“Yes, his medicine... Once you find this creature and destroy it, I shall have his medicine sent over immediately.”

“He needs his medicine now! Without it, his illness will worsen.”

Fixed to her uncle’s glare, she could see Kizuki weighing his options. “Then you better hurry.”

Hana watched as he stormed out, his heavy footsteps echoing ominously, leaving her alone with Isamu, who clung to her arm tightly. The once-warm afternoon light now felt dim, the air thick with unspoken fears and unfinished business.

“Don’t worry, Isamu,” she whispered, squeezing his little hand gently. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

With wide eyes full of innocence and concern, he looked up at her, his voice trembling. “Do you think he’ll send the medicine if you find the monster? What if he doesn’t?”

Taking a deep breath, Hana fought back her frustration and sorrow. She wanted to soothe him, but the weight of their situation hung heavy above them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “but I won’t give up. You need that medicine, and there are people like you who need protection down there.”

She released his hand, turning back to her biwa—the instrument that had always been her solace in troubled times. More than wood and strings, it allowed her to express her emotions and connect her heart to those around her. As her fingers brushed over the strings once more, a flicker of resolve ignited within her.

“I'll need to go find it myself,” she declared suddenly, startling Isamu. The conviction in her voice was unmistakable.

“But that’s dangerous!” He protested, shaking his head. “You can’t go out there, big sis!”

“We can’t wait for Uncle Kizuki.” She knelt to his level, softening her expression. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Isamu hesitated, conflict evident on his face before he finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Okay… but what if you get caught?”

Hana smiled, though the worry lingered in her heart. “I’ll wear a disguise to blend in. Many people pass through the village. Even if I’m caught, Uncle won’t let anything too terrible happen when he still needs me. While I’m gone, stay here where it’s safe.”

“I can do that!”

“Good,” she urged, rising to her full height. “Help me gather a few things. If I’m going to confront this creature, I need to be prepared.”

•••

Hana stepped carefully, the crunch of branches and leaves underneath her feet a sharp contrast to the tranquility of the forest. Her hair was hidden beneath a woven bamboo hat, her biwa wrapped securely in a white cloth strapped to her back and dressed in her father’s old grey men's clothing, she felt the weight of her disguise. Binding her chest with bandages had been an uncomfortable choice, leaving her breathless, but it was a necessary process.

Holding her hat down with one hand, she moved gracefully beneath a long rope straying in the air, covered in ofudas. This was her uncle's attempt to ward off the villagers—the falsehood that an evil spirit occupied the mountain, while a dark fog often wove itself through the trees like a ghostly figure, enough to solidify fear in hearts.

After a mile or two, she finally reached the village—a sight both foreign and familiar. Awe washed over her as she glimpsed the life unfolding before her. She could hear the hubbub of merchants hawking their wares, the laughter of families enjoying the day, and the mouthwatering aromas of food wafting through the air, filling her senses with nostalgia. The vibrant energy of the village was overwhelming, making her heart swell with memory.

But she reminded herself—don’t get distracted.

Just as she was about to turn away from the chaos, a voice broke through the ambient noise. “Hey! Hey you!”

She continued walking, dismissing the call.

“Hey, mister, wait up!”

Hana’s eyes darted around, looking for the speaker but finding no one.

‘Surely, they can’t be talking to me…?’

With hesitating steps, she turned, half expecting to find someone else in her vicinity only to be tackled from behind, falling chest-first into the dirt.

“Owwie. Not again. Geez, thanks for breaking my fall, mister.”

“I-I think you broke something of mine in the process,” Hana stammered, her voice slightly muffled in the dirt. “Uh, would you mind...getting off me now?”

“Oh, oops.”

The girl complied, springing to her feet and quickly helping Hana up, revealing herself to be much smaller than anticipated. Though Hana expected someone heftier to hit her with such force, the girl’s slender build surprised her.

“Sorry! My boss says I can be clumsy when stressed, haha.” The girl awkwardly brushed dirt off of Hana’s shoulders, her laughter a touch too loud.

Hana flinched slightly at the touch. It had been years since she’d spoken to anyone outside her family, and this was a jarring experience. Still, the girl’s vibrant energy was hard to resist.

“Is something funny, mister? Does my misery bring you joy?”

Hana chuckled softly, “No, no! I’m sorry, I'm not laughing at you. Just... I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” The girl placed her hands on her hips, mock indignation flaring on her face.

“Someone so… amazing, I suppose.”

The girl’s cheeks flushed a bright red. “W-whatever”

Hana picked up her lonely instrument from the ground, inspecting it for any damages. She spotted the enthusiasm in the girl’s eyes like sunlight illuminating a clearing in the woods.

“Ahh! That is a biwa, isn’t it? I knew my eyes hadn't deceived me. You can play it?”

“I can,” Hana replied, gathering her composure.

“Then I’ve found a man to entertain my customer! Come on, please!”

“Wait, hold on! I don't know if I can help just yet. There’s something I need to do first.”

“Oh, come on, mister. This is the only job I’ve ever been able to keep! I need this! My husband works hard as a traveling doctor, but we’ll never get by without this, please!”

Hana felt a swell of warmth at the girl's determination, her immediate desire to help surface faster than a rising tide. “Alright, I can do one song,” she conceded.

“Make it three! He wants three different songs!”

“Three? I suppose I can manage that,” Hana replied, her spirit lifting alongside hers.

The girl didn’t waste a moment, grabbing Hana’s hand and leading her away from the thrumming marketplace. “Oh, thank you, thank you! I’ll ask my boss if she can pay you!”

“No need for payment. Knowing I helped someone is enough for me,” Hana insisted, only half aware that they were already dissolving into a plan of collaboration. “But first, could I have your name?”

The girl paused, eyes sparkling with recognition. “Suki Akagi! What about you?”

Hana hesitated for a moment, fiddling with her thoughts. “...Sato.”

[boldlygloriousqueen]

Hello, can you make a headcanon of how the Berserk characters would react if they were jealous? especially with griffith

yay second request! sure :D (english is not my first language fyi) ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ GUTS

★ it will be hard to notice a change in him because of how he rarely shows any of his emotions, well maybe besides anger. though is quite possessive of what's his.

★but after noticing that you were talking to someone else's who he doesn't approve or likely doesn't even know, expect to be dragged away and questioned by him ★he would glare at the comrade and back at you as he drags you by the hand ★ its not like he doesn't trust you and thinks that you will cheat, its just he doesn't want anyone thinking they have a chance with you

★ "who is he?" "oh, he is just a new guy" "hmm"

★ he isn't really a fan of PDA so instead he will follow you around or stand behind you menacingly as you talk to anyone ★ he will hug you and cuddle you once you are done and back at his tent GRIFFITH

★ you generally won’t notice him being jealous until the other person goes too far

★ he has a lot of trust in you so he really won’t get jealous, at least you think he won’t.

★ instead of telling the person to leave he’ll come up from behind and put his arm over your shoulder

★ “watcha talking about?” He asks while hugging your shoulders “y/n is great ain’t she?” He smiles and hopes the person got the hint

★ he always talks about you to his comrades about how strong and adorable you are

★ overall not too worried about any competition for you because EVERYONE knows you are his and are not willing to bet there lives.

★ always has his arm over your shoulder or is holding your hand

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

I hope you like this! Let me know if you want casca or anyone else

[boldlygloriousqueen]

Three Connected Souls -

Part 1: Two Souls

Griffith x Oc x Guts

Just a quick warning! This series will have smut, sexual @ssault and the alluding of it, cursing, toxic/controlling behaviors, obsessions/possessiveness, non-con, blood, and violence.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warning for this chapter: SLIGHT VIOLENCE

"Little princess, where have you gone? Princess Daphne! Why must you make everything so difficult for me?!"

A lady with black hair ran through the halls in search of the young girl who watched the lady from above the second floor. The woman seemed close to yanking out all her hair out of frustration with the child she lost. The missing young girl had light brown hair that was braided up and soft hazel eyes that followed the women as she searched the halls. The girl remained silent and bent down to hide her small figure from the woman while her hands gripped the poles of the balcony.

Once the woman was out of her eyesight, she stood up and walked towards the stairs. She slipped off her heels that looked rather plain. As a matter of fact, so was her dress. It was mainly white and yellow and had no special patterns or a single jewel rested upon it. She might have been able to pass as a maid. Daphne was never one to wear expensive dresses as in her mind there were "better ways for money to be spent" given the midlands' current state. Most ten year old princesses and nobles didn't have the same mindset as Daphne, which would explain why her father spoils her rotten in any way he could.

The princess ran down the steps, pattering her feet on the cold material with a stern face. She was upsets, very upset nonetheless. One thing Daphne hated most in the world was when promises were broken. While running through the halls, she held her dress slightly up to allow more movement for her small legs. Her hazel eyes were set on a large door engraved with golden designs. There, her father, the king, and his loyal commanders often discussed war and political issues. These were most important for the survival of Mindland, but Daphne did not care. She was a child, after all, and her mind was set on bursting into the doors demanding for her father to take her to the festival the towns people had every year on the same day. It was clear that Daphne could be mature at times, but she still acted like a child on other occasions.

This festival wasn't just any kind of festival, not to the princess. It was a festival that was meant to ask for the King and Midland to be blessed with good fortune during these hard times. People sell all kinds of sweets, dress in costumes, dance, and sing, but the princess's favorite time of the festival was when they lit the fireworks. Sure, she could watch that from the balcony of her room, but it was more fun to watch in person and see the common people smile. She could see that the festival was a few times people seemed to forget about the death and fighting outside the walls. It also helped her to forget.

Before the princess had the chance to create further rumors about her unladylike manners, a young boy emerged from the room. He had long white hair and blue eyes and was dressed like a nobel's son, though he was far from it. Rather, a playmate for the young princess who made a first good impression in front of the King when he was found roaming around in the courtyard. No one knew how he got in, but he did. He was described to look quite rugged, and he was skin and bones. He managed to avoid alerting any guards that interested the King. The man always enjoyed being surprised by people who proved to be of some use and so this young boy that came from the war room, was a boy full of undoutable potential, but potential isn't always enough to reach your dreams, your desires so at what cost would someone like this chose to pay?

"Griffith!" Daphne waved one of her hands up to catch his attention.

Daphne was fond of Griffith without a doubt. He never spoke behind her back like other children and adults did. He was someone who made her feel safe, and she felt that he was the only one in this castle she could share her secrets with. Of course, she was a girl so it was safe to say she had a bit of a crush on him as most young girls did when they met him, but in the eyes of adults the princess was merely happy to have someone to play with. The boy's eyes pierced the princess, but without any malicious intent. He always had that look in his eyes, like he was always chasing after something he couldn't quite reach. The smile that came after suited his face, Daphne felt the room brighten with his presence and brought a soft red hue to her cheeks as he closed the door softly, behind him.

"Princess Daphne, what brings you here?"

"A-ah, is my father inside?" Griffith's smile widened at her shyness. Griffith knew of the princess's feelings towards him. If he had to, he'd use those feelings for his own use. They belonged to him in his eyes to begin with.

"I'm afraid he is busy, princess. I do hope you do not plan to create a big ruckus. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble," Griffth walked closer to Daphne, who was pouting her lips.

"Father promised we'd attend the festival like we always do."

"I don't think that will be possible this year, princess. Your father won't be finished anytime soon." Griffith's eyes traveled down to Daphne's feet to see her barefoot were missing then to the heels in her hand.

"Princess, why aren't you wearing your heels. The floor is cold. What if you were to get sick." Griffith bent down onto one of his knees and held his hand up for Daphne to hand him one of her shoes. She furrowed her brow and hid the shoes behind her back.

"Griffith, are you my friend?" The boy stared at her slightly confused.

"Yes, of course, princess."

"Then, from now on, stop calling me princess. It just Daphne."

"But-"

"And stop acting like you're some servant. You shouldn't do this for anyone, not even me. I can take care of myself," the girl sat the two shoes down, then slipped her feet in one by one while holding her dress up for a better view. She held her hands on her hips and held her head slightly up.

"See, this is nothing."

Griffith chuckled while he stood back up. Daphne felt her cheeks burn up worse than it did before. With him being so close to her, she never noticed the slight difference in their height.

"You're right, my mistake. From now on, I won't coddle you as mush. I'm sure you already deal with that enough from everyone, but if there is anything you ever need from me, I'll always be there for you, Daphne."

Things like this were the reason Daphne was so close to Griffith. She couldn't see a life without him. Anyone else would have told the princess they couldn't do what Griffith because of the difference in their 'class'. A large smile grew on Daphne's face, and without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Griffith patted the innocent young girl's hair and rested his head a top of hers. He fond himself getting more use to the girl. He promised the moment he met her that she would br nothing more than a pawn for his dream and while that steal might the case, he was getting attached to the girl to the point he'd do anything to keep her at his side. He never met someone so unselfish, unlike himself. Her uncle would have been furious at the sight. He never liked Griffith. He always saw him as another one of his problems to deal with.

"Princess!"

The young children could hear someone yelling from the distance. Griffith took the princess's hand, and they both shared a thought together, and without saying a single word, they ran out to the garden.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

"It's so pretty, Griffith." Daphne admired the wooden bracelet that was delicately carved and carefully tied around her wrist. Daphne and Griffith wore hoods as they walked the streets.

"It doesn't compare to your jewelry collection, but I'm glad you enjoy it." His fingers grazed her cheeks softly, having the same smile he always had when looking at her.

"I'm glad you carry that with you. It suits you," Daphne pointed to the sword hidden in the scabbard on his hip.

"Does it not scare you?"

"Why would it when your the one who's wearing it? The only people who should worry about you with that sword are the evil people in this world. Besides, you've been training a lot lately. I'm sure your an expert and... soon you could... possibly teach me to use one some day."

"I could have sworn your father said no," he spoke with an amused smile knowing Daphne's intent with the subject.

"My father is an overprotective old man who doesn't understand that I'm growing up. You never know when I'll need to use one, and it's better to be safe than sorry," the princess continued, "I should know how to protect myself. What if you are not around? Would you really trust my life with just anyone?" Griffith spoke his head, the same smile remaining.

"I suppose I wouldn't."

-Boom-

The two swiftly moved their heads to the direction of the noise, and there they saw the beautiful fireworks that lit the sky. Along came from cheers and praise from the townsfolk. Daphne found it fascinating that someone found a way to light the sky with festive colors. It seemed like something that would take up a lot of time to create, but she could never grew tired of watching them. She grabbed a hold of Griffith's arm and rested her head on his shoulder, keeping her eyes on the fireworks.

"Do you remember what you told me when we first met? About you having a dream?"

"I do," Griffith responded as his eyes went from the fireworks to the castle in the distance.

"What is your dream?"

"What I want...." he paused for a long second before breathing out a soft sigh. "That's a secret, little princess."

"Ha? Friends are supposed to share secrets with each other. You know all of mine."

"Mm, I'll tell you one day when the time is right, so don't pout."

"You promise to tell me?" Her eyes stared up at him wanting reassurance.

"I promise. Just be patient. Haven't you heard that patience is-"

"Key? Yeah, yeah. I've heard this all before. You're starting to sound like my father now. I think it was time for you to stop joining them in that war room. You might end up becoming like him,"

"I'd could never. I fear you might grow tired of me," he gently poked her nose. Happiness smeared all over her face from his touch.

"And what about you, Daphne? What are your dreams?" He asked curiously.

"....I want to help the people of Midland in any way I can, but as of now, I can not do that as I know too little," Griffith flinched slightly at her words. Most girls her age would speak of marriage, having a family, or keeping family content. Yet the princess is more concerned for others rather than herself.

"I will become Queen no matter what. I will learn until my brain hurts, I'll even be willing to ride into battle so everyone knows how serious I am. People are always worried about the next time their families eat or what war will take their children away from them," The princess pulled away from Griffith and held a fist to her heart. "When I become Queen, it will be the last thing they have to worry about."

Griffith held his head down as he stared at the ground with wide eyes. This was something he truly didn't expect her to hear. He knew the kind heart she held, but he didn't think she had that much kindness. In a way... she was reminding him of himself. The princess didn't stop there. She continued to talk further about her dreams, but the more she talked, the more Griffith zoned out into his own thoughts. How could he ever let someone like her go? She was exactly like him, no... maybe even better... different? The mere thought of it brought a devilish smile to his face that was covered by his long hair.

"You are truly delightful, Daphne,"

The princess turned towards Griffith who was mumbling. "What was that-" before she could finish her question she felt a strong force push her down.

"Hey, can't you see!" Daphne yelled at the perpetrator who had a scrunched up face. He was a young boy who had short hair that stuck up. His hair almost reminded her of a raven. He had a noticeable scar on his nose and he seemed to have the look of someone who knew not a single bit of happiness. Oddly, he held a sword on his back that seemed way too big for someone his size and height.

"Daphne! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Griffith touched the young girl's face as he scanned her body. "You should be aware of your surroundings. You could have easily hurt her." Griffith stared up at the rough looking boy who seemed to care less as he searched his surroundings.

"Maybe next time she shouldn't be in the way," he spoke coldly before running through the crowd. Daphne was stunned to see the boy run off without even apologizing and she couldn't stand how rude he was towards them.

"I'm going to kill that jerk!" Daphne stood onto her feet and began her chase as Griffith started his after to princess.