#Emperor's Prize

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize, Part 3 (ABO, Yandere Alpha!Shanks x Omega!Reader)

on Ao3 18+ MDNI

All the other chapters

Shanks POV

Shanks blinked awake a few hours later, his arm wrapped around your waist as you slept tucked into his side. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep next to you, it had just come naturally after laying down beside you. Even though he’d rather drift back off to sleep curled up next to you, he was hungry and thirsty as he’d missed dinner taking care of you. As he slowly retracted his arm trying to avoid disturbing your sleep, you let out a soft chuff of displeasure but didn’t wake. Shanks smiled, you derived some kind of physical pleasure from sleeping near him even if you weren’t ready to say it out loud. He left the bed and the cabin as quietly as he could, tiptoeing his way around the piles of dirty clothes he’d left on the floor. He decided to leave the door slightly ajar so he could hear if you woke in distress, perhaps frightened of an unfamiliar location. 

As he moved further from his cabin across the deck, his ear was pinched and tugged. Hard. He trailed behind Beckman who kept a firm hold on his Captain’s ear.

“ Ow! Hey! What gives?” Shanks whined as his first mate’s smoke wafted into his face. Beckman kept walking towards his cabin, not turning his face to answer.

“Did ye hear anything the doctor told you? He said -” 

“ ‘Course I did! I did everything he told me - bathed her, gave her food -” Beckman stopped walking after Shanks spoke and turned to face him. He pulled on Shanks’s ear even harder, making Shanks pout.

“You laid her down…next to you…in your bed..for the night. Are ye trying to get her to go into heat faster? Her smell’s all over you, did you fuckin’ mark her? If you did Shanks, I’m gonna cut off yer dick myself -” Beckman finally released the Captain as they were approaching Beckman’s cabin.

“I didn’t! Hardly even touched her. Poor thing fell right asleep, barely had time to get a sentence in before she was out like a light,” Shanks said, rubbing his ear with his hand.

“Decide what ye want to do with ‘er, Cap. By the end of the night,” Beckman demanded, opening the door to his cabin. Shanks usually liked Beckman’s cabin, the tidy space a pleasant spot for drinking and talking the night away. Right now Beckman’s potent smell inside made Shanks’s nose wrinkle in displeasure. When had Beckman started to reek so badly? Shanks leaned on the doorframe but didn’t follow his first mate inside.

“What now, Redhair?” Beckman grumbled, getting two glasses out of his small cupboard.

“Dunno. Just…don’t wanna come inside right now,” Shanks answered, not wanting to offend his friend.

“Are ye… sigh ..no wonder I went gray so fast. No shit ye don’t wanna come inside. I’m another Alpha and you’re about to start courting that Omega sleeping in your bed. It’s not personal, it’s biology. Doesn’t mean we’re not friends or that I won’t be yer first mate. Just complicates things for a few days between us,” Beckman said while handing Shanks his glass of whiskey. Both of them took their first sips, Shanks enjoying the burn on his tongue. 

Beckman looked over at his Captain, who was draining his glass quickly. “Yer keepin’ her,” Beckman stated. Shanks polished off the whiskey in a gulp and held the glass out for more. 

“Think so,” Shanks confirmed. 

“It’s a bad idea to keep an Omega on a pirate ship,” Beckman said, pouring Shanks another drink and handing him back his glass.

“Roger did it. That’s how he got Ace,” Shanks replied, swirling the drink in the glass. Beckman grunted, but Shanks wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or not. 

“Not sure that’s the best example to pick,” Beckman argued lightly, leaning against the doorpost to his cabin.

“What else’m I gonna do with her? She’s injured and alone, can’t just drop her off on an island. Not gonna sell her, there’s nothing else -”

“Oi. Play games with yourself but not with me. Admit you want tae keep ‘er for yourself. I know you, Shanks. I know what’s going on in that head,” Beckman said with a knowing look.

“Fine. I do want to keep her, yeah, that’s part of it,” Shanks muttered sullenly. He hadn’t sorted through his thoughts about you yet but Beckman wasn’t wrong. Shanks almost felt compelled to keep you and protect you though he’d barely known you a day. He supposed it was biology but he was also one to take things as they came - who was he to interfere with the plans of fate?

“So be it. We’ll dock tomorrow or the day after, she’ll make it until then. Just don’t fuckin’ mark her or she’ll go into heat right thereafter, yeah? Keep yer head on straight,” Beckman’s voice was firm as he gave his captain a hard stare. Shanks resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his first mate’s attempt to lecture him. He’d listened to Hongo, he knew what to do. Taking the next drink in one gulp, he handed the glass back to Beckman.

“And stop drinking my good whiskey like yer cheap vodka,” Beckman complained without rancor. 

“Aye, aye Cap’n,” Shanks said easily, saluting and handing the glass back to the first mate. He was still hungry and meandered down to the kitchens, looking for something to snack on. Shanks overheard the conversations flowing between his commanders as he approached the kitchen and he found himself rolling his eyes as they prattled on. He should have known they’d be gossiping because normally he’d be right there with them talking shit. Shanks stood listening in just outside the open door to the galley.

“- know he’s gonna keep ‘er, there’s no way he won’t,” Rockstar exclaimed, slamming down something heavy on the wooden table.

“‘Course he is, have you seen her? All that hair, those legs, the smell? Can you imagine what it would feel like to fu -” 

Shanks’ Conqueror’s haki surged with power causing the wood door to splinter as a rumble simultaneously built in his chest. Bonk Punch, Gab, and Yasopp looked up from their seats astounded, nearly frightened. Their stares confirmed that this wasn’t the Shanks they were used to - he had never used any kind of force against a member of his crew. He was barely conscious of his actions but he couldn’t stop himself from acting this way. He’d barely felt his haki gathering much less activating, shocking himself as much as his crew. But hearing the Omega in conjunction with the thought of anyone other than himself fucking her was sending him into a rage. Yasopp looked over at Gab and put his hands up in an apologetic supplication.

“Sorry, Cap. Was just…chatting. Didn’t mean nothing by it,” the sniper’s voice was faint as his eyes darted from his captain to his crew mates. Shanks tried to stop growling but the apology offered wasn’t enough to calm his Alpha side.

“Go,” was all Shanks was able to say in between warning growls. The men scrambled away with their plates of late night food forgotten on the table in their haste to leave. After they were gone Shanks sat down heavily on the wooden bench before dropping his head into his hands, the long red strands in the front falling over his fingers. Shanks prided himself on his self control, on his ability to be who he needed to be at all times. And this? This Alpha wasn’t someone he recognized or wanted to be. His mind raced as he began to think that maybe keeping the Omega wasn’t the right decision to make after all. Shanks munched on his crew’s leftover food as he meandered back to his cabin, purposefully avoiding talking to any more crew until he’d sorted his mind out.

Pushing the door in while holding it down to avoid the creak he knew would come, Shanks inhaled your light scent of lily of the valley and cedar and the smell went straight to his cock. You had moved from your previous position, now curled up completely into a little ball at the far end of the bed against the cold wall with the bathrobe from before discarded at the foot of the bed. Shanks frowned at the sight of your defensive sleeping position. Throwing off his cloak again, he undressed completely and laid down where he was previously. Shanks didn’t like wearing clothes to bed so he figured you might as well get used to it sooner rather than later. 

“Come on, Love,” he said while pulling you towards him again. You were warm and sweating despite the cold air in the cabin and your muscles were tight as he shifted your body so your back was against his chest. You jerked awake as Shanks settled you into his side, moving your arms and ducking your head quickly to protect your face. The sight of your terrified and confused expression broke Shanks’ heart all over again. He patted your face and hair, trying to calm you down from whatever nightmare you’d just been experiencing. How could he think to get rid of you when you were so traumatized and broken? No, he needed to keep you by his side and protected - he’d work on his aggression. Maybe after you’d gone through your heat his aggression would decrease on its own.

“Shhhh, it’s just me. Go back to sleep, it’s the middle of the night,” Shanks whispered into your ear as he resumed purring for you. You closed your eyes again and tried to relax your stiff body but whatever you’d been dreaming about was sticking with you. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Shanks asked quietly as his purr rumbled through his chest. He wasn’t surprised when you shook your head in response to his query but Shanks didn’t mind. There would come a time when you’d want to share everything with him, and he was willing to wait as long as it took. To Shanks’ surprise, you rolled over and buried your face in his neck, feeling the vibrations of his purr on your face. He ran his hand up and down your back as your scent blossomed in the cabin. The longer he purred for you, the more your scent bloomed in the small cabin, making his desire to scent you grow with each whiff of flora he inhaled deeply in his lungs.

Holding you close to his nude body, Shanks couldn’t help himself from licking a long stripe up your neck, tonguing hard over your scent gland. Your wound was on the other side of your neck, he wasn’t going to risk reinfecting you, but the smell you produced was so tantalizing and potent he couldn’t help himself; he simply had to taste you. He also couldn’t stop himself from moaning softly as he ran his lips over your scent gland and trailed his tongue over the front of your neck. You tasted just as good as you smelled and he wanted more. He spent several minutes mouthing and licking your scent glands, wanting his smell to linger there as you shivered beneath his attention. He could smell your slick starting to pool between your thighs, it was said that the scent glands of an Omega were as sensitive of an erogenous zone as their groins. 

Shanks felt his canine teeth elongating in preparation for a bite before he pulled himself away at the last moment. His dominating side was roaring at him to bite you, to properly claim you, but his rational side knew it would bring you into heat faster. As he pulled back, Shanks noticed you were stiff and unmoving in his hold despite the purr still emanating from him, your eyes wide and wary of his next move. You were leaning back away from him, as far back as you could get without moving away.

“ ‘M sorry, got away from me,” Shanks mumbled his apology into your hair. He was sorry you were afraid but he wasn’t sorry he’d done it. Even Hongo said that you needed to have his scent on you, this was one of the ways he could do that. Ideally, he would have loved to continue his scenting and stuff you with his cock but he knew that would only ruin whatever small amount of trust he’d begun to build with you. He resumed slowly stroking the skin of your back, purring all the while. Eventually, you were lulled back to sleep by his soothing purr, Shanks feeling your even breath fanning across his neck. Drifting off, Shanks couldn’t believe he’d thought to get rid of you.

Your POV

You woke up confused. You were very warm and no one had come to wake you via bodily harm. You hadn’t been woken up in the middle of the night by someone pulling on your chains - and actually, you had no chains on. You were…in Shanks’ cabin. Alone. Covered by his blankets and doused in his smell as the late morning sun streamed through the window. You weren’t sure what time it was but it was definitely later than you’d slept in a long time. You blinked a few more times as your memories of the previous day came back to you - the rescue, the bath, the food, the scenting…

Shanks’s attention to your scent glands the previous night worried you. He had come back to bed naked, you could feel his hard length grinding against your ass as he held you close. You’d wanted to stay like that and try to forget the nightmare you had but he’d started purring and your resolve weakened. You’d wanted to feel his strong purr, to wrap yourself up in it as securely as the blankets around your body. So you’d turned towards him and immediately felt yourself held in place as Shanks licked and sucked on your scent gland. Between the purr, the heat of his body, his hard cock, and the feeling of someone almost lovingly tending to your glands, your mind was swimming in the face of the overwhelming stimulation. You felt more pliant under his hold, like any whim that came to his mind was yours to fulfill. The rational part of your mind screamed for this to stop but another part of you had come forward to not only accept his ministrations, but to revel in them.

Besides, it wasn't like you were actually going to tell him to stop. Those were all thoughts swirling around your head as you fell under his Alpha spell, but you’d let him do anything he wanted to you. After all, you knew how things went with an Alpha from your time on the Victoria Punk. You’d let him do as he willed, merely grateful he stopped before he bit you.

Alone for now, you took stock of your injuries as was your morning custom. Your neck hurt where Hongo had stitched it but that was to be expected. Your other sores ached as well but you were used to it and you hadn’t received any new injuries so all in all you were doing well as far as you were concerned. Looking around, you saw the Emperor had an ensuite you hadn’t noticed the previous night. Even Kid had let you use the bathroom when you needed to, surely you could now. After relieving yourself, you happened to look at your face in the mirror hanging above the bathroom sink.

Objectively, you knew it was yourself staring back at you. Who else would it be? But the longer you looked, the more separate you felt from the person in the mirror. The features that were once so familiar to you, that reminded you of your family, now belonged to a stranger. You reached up to touch your chin, the same one your Grandmother had, and pinched it hard. The body you were in registered pain but you couldn’t seem to care. Pulling your eyes away from the person in the mirror, you returned to your spot on the bed and hid yourself with the covers once again. You were hungry but there wasn’t any food in the cabin and you wouldn’t have eaten it without express permission anyway. 

You lost yourself in thinking about the person in the mirror while you sat in the bed for an indeterminate amount of time. You didn’t mind, you were used to waiting without any diversions, and you had always enjoyed spending time alone. At least here you weren’t in chains or bound in an uncomfortable position. The sun shifted as the day passed, bringing the warmth of the afternoon into the cabin. The way the cabin steadily grew warmer made you glad you were naked, you would’ve been a sweaty mess by now if you had been clothed. As you lounged and absently brushed your tangled hair with your fingers, there was a single knock on the door before it opened. You averted your gaze and brought the blankets up to cover your neck.

“Good afternoon, Sleepyhead!” Shanks said merrily, opening the door with his hip to bring in a tray of food and drink. You didn’t reply and didn’t look up, choosing the safer option of waiting for him to tell you what he wanted you to do. Even though he had been fairly nice so far you didn’t want to push him before you knew him well enough to predict his behavior. 

“Been up for a while, then? Why didn’t you say anything or come out?” Shanks asked with genuine curiosity while holding a mug of water out to you. You extended your hand to accept it but he pulled it away before you could take it.

“Answer me, Love. I enjoy hearing your voice. Why didn’t you let me know you were up or come out of the cabin?” he prodded gently. The truth was you weren’t going to do anything he didn’t tell you to do, but that wouldn’t satisfy the Emperor. He’d already told you he wouldn’t harm you but you weren’t sure if you could trust him and you didn’t want to risk incurring his wrath should your doubt be considered a slight against him. Instead, you gave him a half truth and hoped he’d accept it without asking anything that might put you in danger.

“No clothes,” you said in a rough voice before accepting the water as Shanks handed it to you.

“Ah, right. My fault for that one,” Shanks said with an easy smile and set the tray down on the bed. You watched him amble over to his clothing pile on the floor where he began kicking it with one sandaled foot. “Go ahead and eat while I look for something for you to wear. Those need to be washed, not for you. Maybe there’s something in here,” he said while opening a chest filled with fabrics. Rummaging through them, he pulled out breezy cotton shirts, loose fitting pants, and an endless array of sashes.

“Hmm. Not sure there’s anything in here that would fit you, but we’ll give it a go. Here, try….these,” Shanks said, handing you a billowy top and hideously colored orange pants. You set the mug of water you were still sipping on the bedside table and stood up to pull the shirt over your head. It had one button that sat below your navel and the plunging neckline left your breasts completely exposed. The pants were large but you rolled the legs up a few times and they would work if you didn’t have to run anywhere. 

“Well, that won’t do. Can’t have everyone seeing you like that, yeah? Maybe I could…hold on. Lemme go check and see what’s on the ship. You sit tight here and I’ll be right back,” the Emperor said while looking at your outfit. Sitting back at the edge of the bed, you waited patiently and nibbled at the food until he returned just moments later. 

“Well, it’s a mixed bag. The good news is that we’ll be docked at an island by tomorrow and I can buy you new clothes. The bad news is I have nothing for you now, so you’re gonna have to wear these. I don’t have a lot of, oh wait…I have one long sleeved shirt I think…the one from the time with Ace…" The Emperor was throwing clothes from his trunk onto the floor as he sorted them while still looking for something for you to wear. It was almost surreal, here was one of the strongest men in the world at your feet, looking through his old clothes on your behalf. He must have sensed you were watching him because he looked up and beamed at you. You didn’t know what to make of the gesture so you looked down and picked at a stain on the pants you were wearing.

“Ah well. We’ll be at an island tomorrow so we can raid their stores. Not literally though, we’ll pay for whatever you need,” Shanks said, stuffing everything back in the trunk without sorting or folding and shutting it by pushing the lid down. Your heart swelled with the thought of being on land once again, you hadn’t set foot off a ship since the day Killer had brought you to the Punk. 

“Can I go too? Please?” you asked quietly without looking up. After a moment, Shanks stood up and walked over to where you were by the bed. He put his hand on your forehead, the action causing you to flinch backward. As he touched you, the feeling of his chilly hand against your hot forehead felt wonderful. You leaned into his touch, wanting to feel something cold against your warm skin.

“I don’t think so, Love. You’re already getting warmer, you’re getting too close to your heat to risk going on the island. I’m not going to let anything happen to you but it might make other people uncomfortable with how much scent you’re producing. So, no, Love, you’ve got to stay here for now. I don’t even want you leaving the cabin until your heat starts.” Shanks was patting your hair, like you would a dog who needed to be shown affection lest it act out again. You nodded at his statements. Logically, it made sense and you understood why the Emperor had denied your request. But…it had been so long since you’d asked for anything and you were immediately told no. You were keenly aware of your place once again while you sat and waited for his next command.

Shanks POV

Shanks was distraught at the Omega’s minute reaction as he told you that you had to stay on the ship. He wanted to show you the world as he saw it, a place rife with fun and adventure, not keep you in a cage like you had been before. But based on your rising body temperature, they’d dock at the island just in time for your cycle to begin. The increasing smell emanating from you was already causing the crew agitation, even though the majority of them were Betas. Hongo had assured Shanks that once you’d started your heat and he joined you, it would be easier on everyone as your scents merged. For now tension was high on the ship, tempers rising and fights breaking out over small matters.

Shanks had left the cabin to look for clothes for the Omega, thinking that maybe Beckman or Yasopp had something that would fit you since Ben liked smaller shirts and Yasopp was the shortest on the crew. He hadn’t made it three steps outside the cabin before he’d turned around in disgust. Shanks couldn’t bear the thought of his Omega wearing anything but his own clothes, if anything at all. You wouldn’t be wearing anything from Beckman or Yasopp or anyone else on the crew as long as he was breathing. Turning around, he saw Beckman growling while talking to Monster, something he hadn’t seen in all the years they’d been sailing together. For the crew’s sake, he had to tell the Omega to stay in the cabin.

Breaking the news to you hadn’t been easy either, your carefully schooled features concealing nearly all your sadness as he said you had to remain in his cabin. Just the slightest wobble of your lush lower lip told him you were upset about his decision, though you didn’t voice any discontent. You merely kept your gaze averted as your hands gripped the fabric of the pants you were wearing tightly in your small fists. Shanks sat down next to you on the bed, crowding you with his physical proximity.

“It’ll be ok, don’t worry. You’ll get off the ship soon, just not now. You can be brave for a few more days, yeah?” You nodded as you moved your torso slightly further away from Shanks. Shanks moved around and laid on the bed, opening his arm to you, wanting you to receive affection from him. You took the hint and laid down next to him, side by side on the bed, your head resting on his bicep.

“Who will…help me?” you asked in a small voice as you worried the fabric of your shirt between your fingers. 

“Through your heat? I will, Love,” Shanks informed you with a kiss on the top of your head. You pressed your lips together tightly and closed your eyes. It was well known that if an Omega didn’t have an Alpha for their heat it was tantamount to torture, so someone was going to have to help guide you through it and it might as well have been Shanks. He was the Captain and an Apex Alpha beside, no one else was going to have the honor. 

“This will be my first time with an Omega in heat, we’ll both be new to this. We’ll go through it together,” Shanks said reassuringly, pulling the Omega up farther so your neck aligned closer to his mouth. Your scent glands were tantalizing in their nearness, he just wanted one small taste to tide him over for now. Flicking out his tongue, you couldn’t help but shiver when he licked over your scent glands as he had the night before. He wanted to feel you shivering under his tongue in other places…and he would be soon enough. Shanks began lapping your neck, making sure to avoid the area with the stitches. 

“Needta get you things for your nest,” Shanks thought out loud, remembering what Hongo had told him. He threw his leg over yours, keeping you still beneath him as you squirmed from his attention to your neck. He still hadn’t kissed you on the mouth, Shanks wanted to wait for you to initiate that intimate moment between you. 

“Afterward…after the heat…am I…” you asked him in between kisses, licks, and nips to the skin of your neck. You’d let the question dangle but Shanks knew you were asking if he’d free you. Another disappointment to come your way, Shanks thought. He’d find some way to make it up to you, some kind of present you’d like. 

“No, Love,” Shanks said, stopping his onslaught against your neck for a moment. He propped up his head on his hand, looking down at you lying on his bed. Your face was flushed and your pupils were blown wide, your body preparing you for pleasure at his hand. You looked radiant and it was taking a great deal of restraint to hold himself back from opening the shirt you were wearing further and sucking on your pert nipples. “You can’t go back. You’ve been identified now and there’s a target on your back. Unless you’d rather be sold at a slave auction, you should stay here with me,” Shanks said. Your face paled immediately at his words and your hands reached for him, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling gingerly.

“N-no, please Emperor. Please let m-me stay,” you bleated out. Shanks almost regretted his choice of words but seeing you reaching for him, for his protection, had his Alpha side crowing in delight.

“Of course you can stay, Love, don’t worry,” Shanks murmured into your skin as he kissed your shoulder where his shirt had fallen to the side. 

“You’ll be with me for as long as you’d like.”

Taglist: @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle @whore-of-many-hot-men @one-piecelover @anemonyee @joana7654-blog

[blackflash9]

To all my Trump-supporting Star Wars fans eagerly awaiting the next season of Andor—congrats. You voted for the fucking Empire.

You’re not the "Chosen One," not the Jedi, not courageous resistance members like Cassian Andor, not loyal soldiers like Rex, not noble leaders like Bail Organa or Mon Mothma, and not even lovable rogues like Han Solo or Cad Bane. You’re background characters, sycophants blindly supporting a regime that will keep treating you like nobodies.

[utilitycaster]

Do you think that Laura and Marisha are deliberately making their relationship somewhat toxic and unsustainable or do you think they see the relationship as healthy? It is just so different from all of the other relationships they have been a part of and not really in a good way. Would love to get your perspective on it if you have one

I am honestly unsure. I would like to say it's deliberate. Prior to it becoming canon, in fact, I, and a lot of other people who were less than enthused by Imogen and Laudna's romance and weren't entirely sold from the start, made the case that we expected they would be talking to each other and would put together a compelling story, not the dull fluff so common in fanon. While whether it's compelling is a subjective judgment, we know for a fact they didn't talk to each other. We know for a fact Marisha was surprised by the question of "Can I kiss you," and Laura was surprised by the answer. We know from a 4SD not long after (4SD #16, Kiss and Tell) that several episodes later they still hadn't talked. We know that Marisha perceives Laudna as holding Imogen back (and that Laudna perceives herself as doing so) from the Rose City Q&A. We know that from 4SD #20 (Episode Twenty) that Laura doesn't like conflict in narrative and Marisha does, and that Laura was thrown by Laudna's regression following Ashton's attempt to absorb the shard (4SD #19, Shard Candy).

I don't know if it's deliberate or not; I don't have any extra insight that isn't public knowledge any fan can easily access. But man, it doesn't feel like these are two actors on the same page about what's going on.

I've touched on this before but mostly in tags or whisper posts but I've always felt ill at ease with a number of for lack of a better term "fandom-approved opinions" and one of the ones that has baffled me the most is this idea that Marisha and Laura have exceptional chemistry. I watched Campaign 1 knowing the endgame ships but deliberately avoiding the fandom, and Vex and Keyleth did not even once occur to me as a thing. I watched the first year of Campaign 2 without a ton of fandom interaction because I was avoiding additional C1 spoilers and it seemed crystal clear that the obvious ship was Beau and Yasha; it felt like Beau and Jester only even had enough potential for me to multiship it as my general "whomever Jester picks" for like, 30 episodes. And yet people - people who didn't even ship either of the above ships and in some cases disliked them- would just say "oh man I can't wait until we get to a campaign where we can finally explore Marisha and Laura's incredible chemistry!" and it's like. I feel like I'm the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes on this! I understand that chemistry is to an extent a matter of taste and subjectivity, but it just increasingly feels like people looked at two campaigns of tables where Ashley was frequently absent and said "well, if I want an F/F ship that's between two of the women in the cast, I guess this is what I have to work with" and repeated to themselves that a flat pamplemousse La Croix was a Piña Colada until they started to believe it. I mean if someone wants to explain it to me in good faith I suppose be my guest and I will try to take it in, but it feels like people just treat this as incontrovertible fact and if you doubt it they're like "don't you have eyes" and it's like, well, pretend I don't. Explain like I'm eyeless and five because I have never understood this. They both have more chemistry with every single other cast member; it's not all romantic but man, I didn't even buy Laudna and Imogen as platonic best friends of two years. I have never had this problem with any other pre-existing character relationships Marisha and Laura have played, platonic or otherwise. It's literally just them. I just never feel like they're quite on the same page.

Back to the relationship between Imogen and Laudna onscreen, this was easily the best conversation since the start of the gnarlrock fight, and it is my hope it doesn't fizzle out the way that did. You can't keep kissing Laudna whenever she fears she's lost forever to Delilah, Imogen. Or you can, but that won't fix the problem. Again: are you disgusted? Do you feel betrayed? If you're not, why did you say that? If you are, how will you move past it? Do you want to be with someone who never feels like they're good enough for you? Laudna, do you want to be with someone who, no matter what they say, you feel you're holding back?

Early in the campaign, my feeling was that of our current situation, switched - Imogen felt her powers were a burden and a curse and Laudna kept referring to them and to her glowingly. It's just...ships passing in the night, no pun intended here. I hope it's on purpose and whatever comes from it is a good story - and either a tragedy or a happy story could be a good one. But I have a nagging sensation that Laudna wants out but is afraid to say no, and Imogen is afraid to let go, and I honestly don't know if the actors have realized this impasse and how the characters might resolve it, one way or another, besides the insufficient bandaid of a kiss whenever the conversation gets too uncomfortable.

[cantsayidont]

EMPEROR OF OCEAN PARK (2024): Hugely disappointing 10-part mystery/drama/thriller, adapted by Sherman Payne from Stephen L. Carter's 2002 novel, about the adult children of recently deceased former federal judge Oliver Garland (Forest Whitaker) — aging playboy Addison (Henry Simmons), conspiracy-minded ex-journalist Mariah (Tiffany Mack), and nebbish law professor Talcott (Grantham Coleman) — discovering a sinister conspiracy related to their father's friendship with one-time CIA stringer and mercenary Jack Ziegler (Torrey Hanson), who thinks Talcott can lead him to something known only as "the arrangements," and who may have had something to do with both the strange end of their father's judicial career and the elder Garland's death.

Initially quite intriguing, EMPEROR is well-acted and richly detailed; the characters' complicated feelings about their father (whom they still reflexively call "the judge") are well-drawn, as is Oliver Garland's descent from respectable if intransigent conservative judge to hotheaded Fox News crank. However, the show ultimately can't overcome its many flaws: It goes on for at least two episodes too long, the narrative wanders way more than it should, the ambivalent ending is borderline cowardly, and there's a certain sheepishness to its periodic segues into violent thriller territory that doesn't help the credibility of the plot's more far-fetched aspects. Moreover, the flashbacks with the elder Garland eventually overshadow the present-day story (and the weak-willed Talcott) so thoroughly as to make it unclear who the protagonist is supposed to be.

I also wasn't wild about the way the show tries to offload responsibility for Garland's mistakes onto his late wife (Ora Jones), or how the story positions Talcott's estranged wife (Paulina Lule) as an antagonist he must overcome in order to reclaim his manhood; it seems that even in a Black-written and -directed project, Black women just can't catch a fucking break lately. CONTAINS LESBIANS? Talcott's white work sidekick Dana (Kelli Simpkins) is a cute middle-aged Academic Butch, but her role is small. VERDICT: Worth a look, not least for Whitaker's outstanding performance, but the clumsily structured, muddled plot and weak ending are just not satisfying despite some strong moments along the way. A real letdown.

[fa-cat]

Award-winning Japanese musician Ryuichi Sakamoto, member of YMO, dies

World-renowned Japanese musician and composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, also the keyboardist of the legendary electronic music band Yellow Magic Orchestra, known as YMO, died last Tuesday, his office said Sunday. He was 71.

Sakamoto revealed in June 2022 that he had been battling stage IV cancer. The Tokyo native also starred in the 1983 war film "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence," and won an Oscar and Grammy for scoring the 1987 movie "The Last Emperor."

[captainknell]

We went to an antique market today and I always challenge my kids to find Napoleon amidst the antiques. It's a trick to make them interested in my hobbies but I'm willing to pay them if they find Napoleon so they go along with it. Well I found 3 books so I told them that I get the prize! I already have the first book that I found, Desiree by Annemarie Selinko so I didn't buy it. But I did buy the other two:

The Emperor's Lady by F.W. Kenyon and Seven Men of Gascony by R.F. Delderfield

[blackflash9]

To all my Trump-supporting Star Wars fans eagerly awaiting the next season of Andor—congrats. You voted for the fucking Empire.

You’re not the "Chosen One," not the Jedi, not courageous resistance members like Cassian Andor, not loyal soldiers like Rex, not noble leaders like Bail Organa or Mon Mothma, and not even lovable rogues like Han Solo or Cad Bane. You’re background characters, sycophants blindly supporting a regime that will keep treating you like nobodies.

I’m so sorry we didn’t learn, George.

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader) Part 2

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Seek medical attention for infected bite wounds.

The first chapter

The next chapter

Shanks POV

Hongo tilted his head to the side while contemplating your last statement. His mouth opened and closed before asking  “Captain, may I speak to you outside for a moment?” Shanks nodded, using his thumb to wipe away the tear tracking down the Omega’s face.

“Stay here, OK? I’ll be just outside the door,” Shanks said in your ear quietly, his stubble scraping against your cheek and earning him a shiver from you. Picking you off his lap with ease, Shanks set the Omega down on the unmade bed. You were still steadfastly looking down at your feet and avoiding eye contact with either Hongo or himself. Shanks stood up and followed the doctor, opening and shutting the cabin door gently behind him to avoid startling you. 

“Are you keeping her?” the doctor asked, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

Shanks hadn’t given it much thought in the short time he’d had the Omega on his ship. If Shanks was a better man, he could let her go back on suppressants while living in anonymity on a protected island. She’d made it years without being detected and likely could go back to doing the same. 

Or he could sell her and make a ton of Berri, maybe even equal to his bounty. This idea was dismissed as the thought of turning her over to someone who would traumatize her just as badly - or maybe worse - turned his stomach. Besides, the islands he protected were perfectly happy to supply him with whatever the crew needed. The Red Force was welcomed all over the Grand Line, Shanks had no need for more money.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it,” Shanks said, rubbing his goatee. The idea to keep the Omega for himself had growing appeal. Your scent had started to perfume the cabin and it was taking everything in Shanks not to rub his nose on your scent glands. You had a subtle scent of lily of the valley and cedar that Shanks found incredibly appealing. With his status, power, and crew he could keep you safe from anyone else who would seek to have you. 

“Well, you’d better decide quickly. If you’re not keeping her, we need to get her off the ship immediately.”

“How much time do we have?” Shanks asked, peeking back in on your still form again. If he didn’t see you breathing and blinking, he would have thought you a statue.

“Only four to five days, and that’s if your presence around her doesn’t initiate her heat sooner which it likely will. If you’re not keeping her, we gotta put her in the infirmary, brig, or somewhere where your and Beckman’s scent is weak.” The mention of Beckman set Shanks on edge, surprising both himself and the doctor. He’d been friends with Beckman for over twenty years and this was the first time he’d ever felt anything so negative towards the man.

“How much do you know about Omegas?” 

Shanks hummed as he recalled that he had read a few books over the years, but hadn’t taken a particular interest in Omegas. He didn’t think he’d ever find one and he wouldn’t want to spend a single Berri on buying one through the slave trade. He’d bedded hundreds of Betas and even a few Alphas which had suited him just fine. “I know a little but not all that much truthfully,” he stated while looking at you through the circular window in the cabin door. You hadn’t moved an inch, your gaze still trained on the floor, sitting in the exact position Shanks had left you in. He could only imagine what Kid had done to you to train you to such a sick level of obedience. 

“We’ve got to get to an island and dock for the duration otherwise everyone’s gonna be miserable, especially Beckman. You’re not gonna want anyone else around her either.” 

“How do you know she’s going to be in heat?” Shanks asked, genuinely curious.

Hongo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Doctor isn’t just a title, I went to a real medical school. I learned about all this and we need to get her ready. If this is her first heat like she’s saying it will be, it’s going to be intense.”

“What does that mean exactly? What do we need to do for her?” Shanks’s practical knowledge about heat cycles left something to be desired. He’d often glossed over those sections in manuscripts under the assumption that it would never apply to his situation. 

Hongo rubbed the back of his neck in thought. “If you’re keeping her, there’s a lot we need to do. First, she must bathe so I can tend to her wounds. After that, you’ll have to scent her. If you want the heat to go as smoothly as it can we need to erase any scent left from Kid and replace it with yours. That way she’s not searching for her old mate, even if they had a….bad relationship. We’ll need to get her soft, clean, unscented linens and blankets so she can make her nest. She needs to eat up - heats use a lot of the Omega’s reserves and she doesn’t have that much left. We need -”

Shanks cut off Hongo with a wave of his hand. “One thing at a time. First, let’s bathe her.” 

“After the bath, we’re gonna need Beckman,” Hongo stated.

“Beckman? Why?” Shanks was an Alpha too and stronger besides. Anything Beckman could do, Shanks could do better unless it took two arms. Belatedly, Shanks realized his feelings were the precursor to jealousy. He threw Hongo a frown before he carried on speaking in a sullen tone, “She doesn’t need him.”. 

“I’m gonna have to clean and dress her wounds,” Hongo explained.

“So? What does that have to do with him?”

“He’s gonna keep you from punching or trying to fight me. You’re not going to like watching me tend to her or hurt her, no matter if it's for her own good.” Shanks rolled his eyes at the doctor’s words.

“Pffff. It’s not gonna be like that, I can control myself. It’s not like she’s my mate,” Shanks scoffed.

“I’m getting Beckman,” Hongo stated, unmoved by Shanks’s self assuredness.

Your POV

You heard the Captain and doctor talking outside of the door but were lost in your own thoughts. You’d been off your homemade suppressants for a while but you had pointedly avoided thinking about the possibility of going through heat. You had chalked your rising temperature up to your wounds causing you to be feverish. Nuzzling into the cloak, you inhaled Shanks’s scent deep into your lungs. The velvety material and clean smell made you feel peaceful to the point of being a little sleepy. You ached to lay back on the comfortable looking bed and curl up into a ball but he hadn’t given you permission to. You wanted to pass and show that you could obey in case this was a test. Kid liked to test the limits of your obedience in creative ways and you’d learned your lessons the hard way. He would leave food out when you were hungry and punish you if you ate it, or leave out blankets when he’d told you to remain naked and enter his cabin randomly. So you sat even though you were bone achingly tired.

You tried to look about your surroundings surreptitiously while you waited. The wooden cabin was mostly tidy but well lived in. Clothes were piled on a lounge chair in the corner, a writing desk had letters, maps, and an inkwell on top, and a small bookshelf held a few tomes. A dark colored chest had more linens poking out of the corner while the bed you were perched upon was large and covered in fuzzy sheets and piled with blankets and pillows. You didn’t see any hooks or chains hanging from the walls, maybe the Alpha wasn’t going to shackle you to the bed. The room had the aroma of the Alpha and gave off the feeling of coziness, of snuggling under blankets on a cold night. It felt….homey.

The door opened and Shanks reappeared without the doctor. Watching the Emperor approach, you didn’t want to imagine his displeasure at finding you asleep on the bed when he hadn’t allowed it. Kid’s power was mind boggling to you and the Emperor had swatted him away like a fly. You would do anything to remain on the Emperor’s good side even if it was to your own detriment. You heard him approaching you and watched his sandaled feet stop in front of you. He didn’t stoop down to catch your gaze but you felt his hand land at the top of your hair. You winced, remembering all the times it had been pulled in the past. No pain came as Shanks just patted you and rubbed the strands of your dirty hair between his fingers.

“Hongo has to treat your wounds. We need to get you clean first though, yeah? And take these off too,” Shanks’ fingers left your hair as he spoke. He reached down into the cloak and pulled on the chain between the cuffs you were still wearing. Feeling the bed dip next to you, Shanks pulled one of the cuffs closer to his face to inspect the manacle. “Where’s the lock? They’re not welded shut,” Shanks noted. 

“Magnetic,” you said in your hoarse voice. Shanks’s face soured as he traced the smooth metal of the handcuff with his thumb.

“Ah.” Shanks seemed to mull your response over for a few moments before he commanded you to close your eyes. You complied immediately and heard crunching as the metal of your cuff fell off your wrists. You desperately wanted to see how the Emperor had gotten them off but you were waiting for his command. A warm and calloused hand rubbed your bruised wrist where the metal had been previously. “You can open them again,” Shanks said softly, running his thumb over your pulse. There were no weapons around and the Emperor’s sword was still sheathed within the scabbard. You could only guess the power he’d used to remove them. 

The door swung open and three men appeared, two carrying a metal tub filled with steaming water and the third with a bucket with toiletries. Shanks stood to put himself between you and the crew members, blocking them from your view. “Thanks, guys, just put it over there,” the Emperor requested, gesturing to the largest open area of the cabin. The men followed their Captain’s request carefully but a little water sloshed on the floor. Alarm shot through you at the sight of the water on the floor, and you hoped the Captain didn’t blame you or punish you for it. You nearly went to clean it but you hadn’t been told to leave the bed and the new men were still in the room.

“Is it time for introductions? I’m Lime -” one of the men began speaking in your direction.

“Ah, not now. Maybe later Lime Juice, sorry. Thanks for bringing the tub,” the Emperor said with genuine praise in his voice.

“No worries. Nice to meetcha Little Miss,” the man said easily. You didn’t reply. The men exited the cabin leaving only you, Shanks, and the piping hot bath. 

“Come on, then. Let’s get you in there while it's still hot,” the Emperor suggested. You nodded and stood up, shucking the Emperor’s cloak you’d been clutching.

Shanks POV

He shouldn’t have been surprised when you complied immediately, leaving his cloak on the bed and revealing your nude body. You’d been beaten into submission - if he told you to jump overboard he’d hear the splash shortly thereafter. His eyes raked over your form while you limped to the tub, noticing the bruising, the cuts, the marks he hadn’t before. Even in your currently broken form, you were breathtaking. Shanks’s fingers twitched with the desire to touch you but he stuffed his hand into his pocket for the time being, getting closer to aid your descent into the water.

“Why are you limping?” Shanks asked as you gripped the edge of the tub to lift yourself in. You froze in place, looking down at the water. Raising your foot behind you revealed a deep gash in the sole of your foot. Shanks crouched down to get a better look at the wound while capturing your foot in his hand. The doctor hadn’t inspected the bottom of your feet so he was sure Hongo hadn’t seen this one. The cut was clearly deliberate with how deep and uniform it was. Taking a deep breath to avoid swearing caused the tempting perfume of your cunt to hit Shanks’s nose. His first instinct was to hold you in place and run his tongue all the way up your legs till he reached your tantalizing pussy. Then he wanted to rub his nose up and down your slit until the scent of your pussy was all he could smell. Now wasn’t the time, you were shaking and tired and had a long way to go until you could rest.

“Ach. I wish you’d said something, are there any other cuts Hongo didn’t inspect?” Shanks said in mild admonishment. You licked your lips and nodded slowly. You were shaking, your shoulders hunched in to make yourself smaller. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m not mad,” Shanks said quietly, putting your foot back down and standing up, regrettably moving away from the scent of your groin. He cupped your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek repeatably in an attempt to soothe you. “I’m not mad, I just need to know where you need medical attention. I can’t help you if I don’t have all the information, right?” You nodded, your hair obscuring your face from his view. “Where’s the other cut?” Shanks inquired while moving his hand to the small of your back.

You took in a deep breath and put your good foot on the tub, opening your legs to his eyes. At the very inner crease of your leg, where your thigh met your groin, was another infected bite mark. Shanks squared his shoulders and kept his face neutral. His first instinct had been to snarl at the offending sight but managed to restrain his response at the sight of you. Shanks saw your vacant gaze, shaking hands, and clammy skin and knew it would only make things worse.

“”S all right. We can let Hongo know later,” Shanks slipped on the mask of his affable nature as he spoke to smooth over the moment. “In ya go, Love,” Shanks said while picking you up by the waist and depositing you into the tub without warning. Shanks needed you in the water so your smell would dissipate before he lost control of himself. You hissed when your skin hit the water but otherwise made no movements. “Here you go,” Shanks said, handing you soap and a towel before dragging a stool over to sit near the tub. “You do your front, I’ll get your back.” 

You began lathering the washcloth with soap and warm water before you began rubbing down your arms and torso. Shanks maintained a steady one sided conversation while he started pouring water down your back. He was trying to acclimate you to the sound of his voice in an attempt to bring you comfort in what surely was an uncomfortable time. While lathering his own washcloth Shanks saw the formerly clear bathwater turning rust red with every swipe of your hands. As he began sudsing your back his eyes picked up faded scars he’d missed when looking over your more recent wounds. 

“I’m gonna wash your back now, ok? It’s hard to wash your own back and even harder when you only have one hand. There are more tasks than you’d think that require two hands, even beyond fighting or washing. Can you imagine how difficult buttons are to do with one hand? Or even tying boots? I have Beckman help me, that’s Benn Beckman, my first mate. You’ll meet him later, you’ll like him for sure. He looks gruff but make no mistake he’s a total sweetheart. He says that I milk it, and I do of course, but what’s the point of being a Captain if my first mate won’t hand feed me eggs every morning?” 

Shanks was acting casually but he noticed a miniscule shift in your mouth as he joked about Benn feeding him breakfast. You were close to smiling and Shank’s heart swelled with pride. He knew there was some glimmer of you buried deep within and he was going to bring you back to the surface. He finished washing your back and you’d washed your arms, torso, and legs but made no move to wash your hair.

“Do you want me to wash your hair, Love? I can if you’d like,” Shanks was trying to offer you as many simple choices as possible to show you that he wasn’t going to control every aspect of your life. You shook your head in response to his query. “Alright, go ahead then, almost done here,” Shanks said gently but to his surprise, you shook your head again. “No? I don’t mean to be rude sweetheart but your hair’s dirty, it needs to be washed.” 

“Cut it all off,” you rasped. Shanks tilted his head to the side, your request startling. Even male Omegas preferred long hair, it was simply a characteristic commonly associated with the dynamic. One of the most severe non-corporeal punishments an Omega could face was having a forced haircut. For an Omega to request a drastic haircut was unheard of. Your hair was long, indicating you’d been growing it long before Kid had gotten his hands on you even through your time being suppressed.

“Can I ask why?” Shanks questioned, picking up the soggy ends from the water. 

“Can’t be pulled,” you answered. You parted your hair in the back, showing a bald spot where your hair had been yanked out from the root. Shanks moved his stool so he was no longer sitting behind you but beside you.

“Look at me,” Shanks requested and you partially complied as you turned your head towards him. You looked at his chest but not at his face. “ Look at me,” Shanks repeated, this time with a Command. Not physically able to disobey an Alpha of his power, your widened eyes snapped to him. It was the first time he’d Commanded you to do anything, but this was important.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. You may not always like what I do, but I will never harm you. Do you understand?” Shanks said softly while stroking your cheek with his thumb. He’d done that a lot, he mused. Something about you called him to take care of you, to provide for you physically and emotionally. You nodded. “I’m gonna have to hear you say it,” Shanks said, almost sorry for forcing you to talk.

“I understand,” you stated in your ruined voice. Unsure if his Command was completed you continued looking at him. Shanks smiled at you and kissed the top of your head.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll make a deal. I’ll wash and brush your hair for you tonight. If you still want to cut it off tomorrow morning, we will. We can have matching haircuts if you want,” Shanks said, flipping back his own hair for emphasis. A ghost of a smile turned up the corners of your lips as you nodded your consent to his deal.

Your POV

Your arms looped around your knees in the cooling water as Shanks washed your hair tenderly. You had been sincere in your wish to cut it - you never wanted to be dragged by your hair ever again. Shanks’s offer startled you since Omegas were often physically groomed to whatever standard the Alpha wanted regardless of how they felt about it. The bath had given you a lot of stress since you weren’t sure what to expect. Anything new, any deviation from the standard made you nervous since you couldn’t predict the outcome. It had been an all right experience but not as relaxing as the Emperor had anticipated. 

Shanks only had one hand but it didn’t slow him down when bathing you. He rattled on about whatever he was thinking about while you listened as he worked the soap onto your scalp and rinsed it. He was pulling the brush easily through your hair while telling you about a strange boy he’d met years before when there was a knock at the door. 

“Wait,” Shanks ordered in a tone more stern than he’d used when speaking to you. “Up, dear,” Shanks motioned with the hairbrush. The water dripping off you in rivulets left you exposed to the cold air making your skin erupt into goosebumps. Shanks quickly dried you off with a fluffy towel before he wrapped it around your body. After you were dried to Shanks’s satisfaction, he swapped the towel for a large purple robe, picked you up, and sat you on the chair by the desk.

“Come in,” Shanks said, sitting on the edge of the desk next to you. He took your wrinkly hand and held it in his own as you resumed staring at the floor. Three pairs of boots walked past and you heard them hefting the tub back out of the room.

“Blech, what’d she do? Bathe in mud?” one man said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongo replied calmly while coming to stand in front of you. He had his medicine kit again and you knew this part would be even less fun than the bath. Two pairs of boots stopped in front of you but you only recognized Hongo’s. The other male was also an alpha though not as strongly scented as Shanks.

“There’s a few more Hong,” Shanks said casually, stroking the top of your hand. “She’s got a cut on the sole of her foot and one on her inner thigh. Both need attention.”

“Alright, not an issue. Let’s get started,” Hongo said while setting his bag on the desk. “Over to the other side of the cabin,” Hongo ordered Shanks, who bristled immediately. 

“Nah, I’m gonna stay here,” Shanks said, keeping your hand in his own.

“No, you’re not. Go over there with Beckman. I don’t want to have to treat my own wounds in addition to hers when I stitch her up.” You cringed, waiting for the Captain to slap his subordinate but it never came. Instead, you heard a deep voice ushering the Emperor away from you.

“C’mon, Cap. ‘S for the best. We’ll be a few feet away and she’s a big girl, she can be apart from you for a minute or two.” You were guessing this was Benn Beckman, the first mate Shanks had told you about. Shanks whined in response but let go of your hand nonetheless.

“”M right here if you need me, Sweets,” Shanks reassured you as he receded. You didn’t protest but a part of you did wish Shanks was nearby. You didn’t feel all that comfortable around him but he was the person you were most familiar with. Hongo had been taking tools and liquids out of his bag in preparation for the procedures. After putting on a pair of glasses, Hongo snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

“It’s not gonna feel great, but I’ll try to make it as painless as possible, OK? Let’s start with your neck, I think that’s the most severe. Did you wash it in the bath?” He asked, using the stool Shanks had previously occupied. You nodded in confirmation that you had followed the doctor’s orders.

“Let’s take a look, yeah?” You tilted your head to allow the doctor access to your neck. Even though you knew he was going to touch you, you still flinched when he made contact with your skin. “I’m gonna clean it and drain the pus. After I’m gonna have to stitch it,” the doctor informed you. You heard the sound of liquid moving and felt alcohol being applied to your neck. Not wanting to interrupt Hongo’s work, you stayed as still as you could even as the alcohol burned on contact with your wound. 

“See? Not even a single reaction outta me,” you heard Shanks say in the background and Beckman grunted in response to his captain.

After wiping down the area, you heard the clanging of metal as Hongo picked up a scalpel. You closed your eyes and waited for the sharp pain as the knife met your skin. Based on other wounds you’d received, you knew the doctor was trying to be gentle but you still hissed as he cut into you and pressed on the wound.

“No, sit down. She’s fine -”

“I AM sitting down, but I just wanna go -” 

“No, stay put.” You heard Shanks and Beckman arguing on the other side of the room. Hongo was right to bring the first mate, it sounded like Shanks was having a hard time watching the doctor tend to your wounds. You wondered if it was from possessiveness, like Kid, or because he didn’t like watching you being hurt. You didn’t think about it for long as a sharp pain crowded out your train of thought when the doctor began pressing on your wound to drain the pus.

“Not much more, almost there. It’s a deep wound, otherwise I wouldn’t have to stitch it.” You whimpered as the doctor pushed even harder for a moment, then covered the area with gauze. You heard scuffling again.

“Let go of me Benn, I need to - I said stop shoving me!” Shanks’ voice rose with more anger in his voice. His scent was starting to bloom, filling the air with the smell of oranges and cloves in an unconscious effort to soothe you.

“One more time and you’re out of the cabin until he’s done. Stop talking and distracting everyone. You know it’s for her own good so Let Hongo work,” Benn huffed. You couldn’t concentrate on Shanks anymore because the doctor started to stitch. You closed your lips into a thin line and screwed your eyes shut in a futile effort to block out the pain.

“Ah, relax, relax. If you tense your muscles it hurts more,” the doctor chided you gently as the needle pricked your skin over and over. You relaxed your face as much as you could. You’d had stitches before and you were no stranger to pain but the bite was in such a delicate and sensitive area you couldn’t help as a few tears escaped your eye. Finally, you heard the words you were waiting for.

“All done, just snipping the end of the thread. One more moment and we can move on.” Scissors were brought close to your face and snipped the end of the medical thread. “Look straight ahead for me?” Hongo instructed you, facing you head on. You looked forward, your neck aching with the effort. “And turn to the other side?” You turned and saw Shanks smiling and waving at you despite being held against the wall by Benn. You dropped your eyes after a moment too long.

“So what’s next? Shanks said you had a foot injury? Those are a real drag,” Hongo said, trying to make light conversation. You nodded and crossed your leg over your knee to show the doctor the sole of your foot. Hongo reached out to pick up your foot by the ankle and peered closely at the wound with his glasses.

“Knife?” he asked abruptly. You nodded. “Accident?” You shook your head. 

“Punishment. Ran away,” you said quietly. Hongo hummed and tilted your foot. You used the extra fabric of the extravagant robe to cover yourself more as Hongo lifted your leg and placed your foot on his lap. Shanks growled lightly but otherwise made no noise.

“Luckily it’s pretty shallow. Probably hurts to walk but it should heal quickly. I don’t need to suture it but I am going to wrap it,” Hongo explained. He cleaned the wound and used long nosed tweezers to get a few pieces of debris out. The digging was uncomfortable and made you try to jerk your foot back unintentionally but Hongo’s grip was tight. He finished quickly and wrapped the wound in gauze and bandages.

“Next is the leg, right? Let’s see,” Hongo offered. Your mouth twisted as you thought of having to show the wound. You pointed to the bed and hoped the doctor didn’t think you were arrogant.

“Sure, go ahead and lay down if it's easier for you,” Hongo offered. He picked you up and you heard the Emperor’s rumble returning, making you ball your hands into fists.

“Oi, you’re scaring her Redhair,” Benn said as you were placed on the bed. The rumble stopped for a moment but quickly resumed as soon as you opened your legs to show Hongo the wound. You were covering what you could with the robe but Shanks only got louder as Hongo came closer to you. As his head dipped low to look at it with his glasses, Shanks’s loud roar made you cower. 

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” Ben said, manhandling the Emperor out of the cabin. “I’m keeping this one outside. Let us know when you’re done. C’mon you,” Beckman said, still grappling with a struggling Shanks. You knew that if the Emperor really wanted to stay, no one on board could keep him out. You guessed that the Emperor was trying to allow Hongo to take care of you but the Alpha within him didn’t like the other male so close to you. You closed your eyes and willed this experience to be over as soon as possible. Hongo was touching your upper leg in a professional manner but the feeling of someone near your core had you near tears. This wound wasn’t as bad as the one on your neck since you had secretly washed it a few times. 

“All done. Good job, Omega. You did better than some of the men on board,” Hongo said before removing the gloves and putting his glasses back in their case. “You stay there, I’ll get Shanks.” No sooner had the doctor finished speaking than the door opened and the Emperor strode in, carrying a basket in his hand. You sat up and gulped, unsure how angry he would be. 

“Out,” he said to Hongo before he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry Hong. What I meant was, thank you. And you were right about Beckman, owe ya one.”

“Owe me a bottle of booze is whatcha owe me,” Hongo said, smiling easily. “Have her eat and go to sleep. Poor thing’s exhausted.” 

“Already on it,” Shanks murmured. He placed the basket on the bed as the doctor left, taking his equipment with him. “Didn’t know what you liked, so I took a bit of everything. The crew already ate dinner and those assholes left no leftovers. Well, we didn’t really know you were coming, but Lucky’ll make you whatever you want tomorrow. For now, here’s a little snack.” Shanks reached into the basket and pulled out some cheese, dried meat, grapes, crackers, and some nuts. “I stole a bunch of this from Beckman’s cabin, he’s got good taste.” You hesitatingly reached over to the slices of cheese, taking one in your hand. Biting into it, you nearly moaned. You hadn’t had fresh food in forever, subsisting on whatever Kid remembered to bring into his cabin. 

You ate a few more slices in silence, Shanks leaning back on the bed and eating some of the mixed nuts he’d taken. “You want one?” he asked, holding a grape in his hand. You nodded and held out your hand to take one from the bowl. “Ah ah. Open,” he demanded, putting the grape right in front of your lips. You obediently opened your mouth and Shanks popped the fruit in. You didn’t know why but you felt yourself starting to blush faintly. You were wearing the Emperor’s robe, on his bed, after he bathed you, and yet feeding you a grape made you feel embarrassed? You yawned after you swallowed, your eyelids feeling heavy. You wanted to rest but were still unsure if you needed permission.

“Aw, you’re tired? ‘S alright, we can eat more tomorrow. Drink a cup of water and we’ll be off to bed,” Shanks said, pouring water into a cup from a bottle on the nightstand. Handing you the cup, your fingers brushed against his. You drank greedily, draining the cup in seconds. “More?” Shanks asked but you shook your head. He quickly put the food back in the basket and set it on the floor.

“Lay down. You look so sleepy little Omega. Come on, right here next to me on the bed, it’s nice and warm, I’ll hold you,” Shanks cooed at you. Your lip wobbled at the suggestion but you held firm and didn’t cry. You’d spent many nights on the cold floor of Kid’s cabin, your chains pulling at your weakened limbs. Crawling over to the head of the bed, you laid down on your side on one of the fluffy, feather filled pillows. The Emperor covered your body with his heavy blanket and you burrowed down into its warmth while inhaling the rich scent of the Alpha. You’d missed being warm and comfortable at night more than any other luxury, even more than eating regularly. Shanks laid down behind you and pulled you close to his body, draping his arm loosely across your torso. 

“Good night, little Omega,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Good night, Emperor,” you croaked, already half asleep. One thought tickled the corner of your mind before you could succumb to sleep completely. “The other ship?” You’d felt the Emperor’s boat rock earlier but you were too focused on your circumstances to notice anything else.

“Hm? Kid’s ship? Dorry and Broggy cut it in half,” Shanks mumbled while running his hand up and down your ribs. You hummed happily and let sleep overtake you.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle

[fingertipsmp3]

The problem with cash is I literally convince myself that no one can see me spending it and therefore it’s not real money and can’t get me. And then I spend £48 on books

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. two weeks have slipped by since you disappeared from the emperor’s life. the palace whispers of his unraveling, but no one dares to name the madness consuming him.

contents. period piece, forbidden love, ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior, lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. not proofread once again, but at least all 8k words are finally done. until the epilogue!

series masterlist | chapter 2/2

It has been two weeks since your disappearance. 

Nobody knows where you’ve gone to. Or why. 

Synchronously, the palace had fallen into a hush. The kind that stretched beyond walls and courtyards, embedding itself in the bones of the imperial court. Servants whispered behind their sleeves. Nobles watched the throne with cautious eyes. The emperor, Japan’s strongest man, was unraveling. And nobody knew why.

The stench of alcohol clung to Gojo Satoru. Expensive sake pooled in ceramic cups, the scent sharp and sickly, mixing with the musk of sweat and silk. The chamber was a mess, toppled dishes, shattered glass, the remnants of a feast he hadn’t touched. A single candle flickered on the lacquered table, its wax melting into a slow, steady pool. The shadows cast by the flame twisted along the walls, stretching long and jagged, like ghosts reaching for him.

Gojo slumped against his seat, his white hair, usually snowy white, now fell in wild, overgrown tufts, obscuring his vision in uneven strands. His ceremonial robes, woven in silk and embroidered with the insignia of the Gojo Clan, hung loose around his frame. His fingers twitched over the rim of an empty goblet, a silent tremor betraying the rage simmering beneath his skin.

His breath was slow, methodical. 

Himiko entered without announcement, the sound of her embroidered slippers tapping against the floor. Her robes shimmered under the candlelight, crimson and gold, a deliberate echo of the imperial crest. She was the picture of regality: poised, calculating, her scent perfumed with jasmine.

“You’ve been drinking again,” she observed, her voice smooth yet edged with unspoken frustration.

Gojo didn’t bother lifting his head. Instead, he chuckled, the sound devoid of mirth. He tipped his goblet back, only to find it empty. A scowl twisted his lips as he tossed it aside. The metal clattered against the floor, rolling to a stop against shattered glass.

“Would you like a prize for your deduction?” His voice was hoarse, his throat burned raw from drink.

She ignored his bitterness and stepped closer, fingers trailing along the lacquered table, grazing over his discarded robes. The action was slow, deliberate.

“Tell me, Satoru…” she murmured, her voice as soft as silk, as sharp as a blade. “Why do you waste yourself like this?”

His fingers curled into a fist.

Himiko’s eyes flickered, catching the movement. She stepped closer, her presence heavy in the candlelit chamber. “You were born to rule,” she continued, her words laced with honey and venom alike. “And yet, you let yourself fall into ruin over a woman who no longer wants you. A personal servant, much less.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“She has severed all ties with you,” Himiko pressed, her tone almost pitying. “After your stunt in the ceremonial hall she will never bat an eyelash at you again. And now, her clan whispers of rebellion in the capital. The elders demand retribution.”

Gojo’s breath was slow, methodical.

“The Gojo and Zenin clans must unite,” Himiko continued, watching him carefully. “For the first time in history, we will restore order. We will fulfill your destiny.”

She leaned in, her touch featherlight as her fingers trailed down his chest, the brush of her nails just barely felt through his robes.

“And,” she whispered, voice dipping lower, “you will have me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

The candle’s flame flickered, the shadows shifting along the walls.

Gojo let out a slow, shaky breath. His head tilted back against the chair, his gaze hooded, unreadable. The weight of something unseen pressed against him, pushing him deeper into his own destruction.

Finally, he spoke.

“Fine.”

A victorious smile curled on Himiko’s lips.

But then, the doors burst open.

The impact sent a gust of air through the chamber, causing the candle to flicker wildly.

A new presence entered, stepping through the threshold like ink spilling across the pristine floors. Dark robes trailed behind him, blending into the shadows. His expression was unreadable, but his golden eyes gleamed with something knowing.

“Your Majesty,” Geto drawled, his voice smooth, stepping forward. “You called.”

Gojo frowned, his gaze shifting. “Suguru.”

Geto gave a short, practiced bow, the movement fluid. 

The Emperor stares at him, “You are my most trusted ally.”

“A honor that I hold dear, yes.” Suguru’s head is still ducked, waiting for permission to be lifted.

A strange tension filled the air. The kind that was razor-thin, ready to snap.

Gojo’s fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, the sound slow, calculated. Then, his foot lifted, pressing beneath Suguru’s chin, forcing his head up until their gazes met.

A pair of icy cerulean orbs bore into plum ones.

“You would never do anything to betray my trust, no?”

The room turned frigid.

Suguru’s entire body tensed, though his face remained still. The weight of those words pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. The deadly tone, Gojo’s battle tone, was one Suguru had only ever heard on the battlefield, when his friend was overtaken with bloodlust.

He felt his blood go cold.

“No, of course not.” His head remained low, eyes staring at the spilled wine pooling along the floor, the blood-red liquid almost taunting him. A warning.

“Then tell me that the rumors are false, dear friend.”

Suguru’s eyes flickered.

Gojo pressed harder with his foot. “Tell me that you did not let my [Name] leave.” His voice trembled, cold and sharp. “Tell me that you did not send her a carriage.”

Silence.

“Tell me that you did not leave her in the hands of another man after I had worked so hard to bring her back.”

Suguru said nothing.

And that was the confirmation Gojo needed.

His hands clenched. His chest heaved.

And then,

“I TRUSTED YOU!”

The chamber shook as Gojo kicked Suguru back, sending him crashing into a wooden table. Artifacts shattered, glass shards scattering across the floor.

Himiko shrieked at the violent display.

Suguru groaned, coughing as the pain tore through his ribs. He barely flinched at the glass buried in his side. Instead, he tilted his head, wiping the blood from his lip.

“She made her choice.” His voice was eerily calm.

Gojo froze.

His breath hitched, stomach twisting

“You don’t know that.” His voice was hoarse, cracking beneath the weight of his own grief. The emperor grabbed a dagger, well hidden in his garments and held it in Suguru’s direction.

Himiko scoffed.

“Why does it matter?” she demanded, stepping between them, fury flashing in her gaze. “She is nothing now! She abandoned you. She left you for another man–”

“Shut your mouth,” Gojo snapped.

Himiko stiffened, stunned by the venom in his voice.

“You chose me!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “You made your decision.”

“Because I had no choice!” His roar was thunderous, shaking the very foundation of the palace. His breath was ragged, vision tunneled. “But if I did,” He swallowed hard, the taste of regret thick in his throat.

His voice wavered, quieter now.

“If I did… it would have never been you.”

Silence.

Suguru exhaled, tilting his head. “I told you,” he murmured, watching the scene unfold with mild amusement. “You should have let her go when she asked.”

But Gojo Satoru, Emperor of Japan, the strongest man alive, had never known how to let go.

“If you want to live, you will follow my next command carefully.”

The village was quiet in the way only forgotten places could be, tucked away between rolling green fields and a quiet forest.

Unlike the grand palaces and bustling cities, this place moved at its own pace, undisturbed by the heavy weight of politics and war. Here, the air smelled of damn earth and fresh rice paddies, of firewood burning in stone hearths, of crisp morning dew that clung to thatched roofs, mingling with the distant sound of laughter from children playing. The dirt paths were lined with modest homes, their roofs sagging under years of wear. 

It had been two weeks since your disappearance. Two weeks of living as someone else.

Gone were the weight of expectations heavy upon your shoulders. Your hands, once unblemished and soft, now bored faint callouses from work you were never meant to do. And you didn’t mind.

“[Name].”

A familiar voice, steady and unmistakable cut through the quiet morning. You turned, catching sight of Nanami standing near the well, sleeves rolled to his forearms. A basket of vegetables hung from his grasp, the crisp greens contrasting against his neutral-toned kimono. His expression, as always, was measured.

A quiet sigh left your lips, “You’re back early.”

Nanami stepped forward, his glaze flickering down to your hands, observing the red marks on your palms from the rough mortar and pestle. He frowned.

“You shouldn’t be doing this kind of work,” he said, voice low but firm. “You’ll only injure yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t seem convinced. But instead of arguing, Nanami placed the basket down and gestured for you to follow him back towards the small house you shared. The villagers were already accustomed to seeing the two of you together, and while they didn’t openly question your presence, there was an unspoken distance between you and them.

As you walked beside him, you caught glimpses of their gazes, wary, guarded.

You  adjusted the strap of your bag, “They won’t even look at me in the eye,” you muttered as the other villagers brushed past you without a second thought. “Why?”

Nanami didn’t look at you immediately, instead adjusting his grip on the basket. “They don’t know who you are.”

“That’s exactly why they don’t trust me.” You exhaled sharply. “I don’t blame them.”

A pause.

Then, Nanami glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “It’s not just that.”

You blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

His steps slowed as the two of you reached the wooden house, a modest structure, small but well-kept. He set the basket down on the porch, and after a beat of silence, he gestured to you.

“Look at yourself.”

You frowned but obeyed, glancing down at your clothes. “And what of it?” You eyes trail down to the garments. The robes you worn, though simple, were still of a higher quality than the villagers. The stitching, the cut, the deep indigo dye that refused to fade even after days of wear. The silk made you stick out like a sore thumb, but surely it was not envy that caused the entire village avoid you like the plague. These fabrics were a gift from your former mentor Yaga, after all. You couldn’t simply dispose of them.

“The embroidery on your robes, the color… no one other than those of the Imperial Royal Family may be adorned in it.” He exhaled, voice lowering. “It all says one thing: you belong to the emperor.”

A chill ran down your spine.

You swallowed.

Nanami studied your reaction before exhaling, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It was always him,” he murmured.

You looked up. “What?”

“He never let you out of his grasp.” His voice was quiet but weighted. “Even now, when you’re here… Gojo still lingers.”

The name alone sent a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers clenched at the fabric of your robes, suddenly feeling suffocated by it. You had spent so long trying to distance yourself from him, from the golden cage he had kept you in. And yet, here you were.

Still marked by him.

“Well then I need to get myself new clothes,” your hands fidgeting with the rich fibers of your clothing.

“No need,” Nanami pauses his ministrations to look at you. “I’ve already talked to the local seamstress and requested a much more appropriate wardrobe for you.”

For the first time in weeks, you feel a smile form on your face, “Just what would I do without you, Nanami?”

“I wonder the same thing,” he mutters, but you can hear the jest in his voice. He turns away to hide the small smile on his lips.

“Oh, you!” You point straight at the curve of his lips, disregarding the dirt on your hands. He tries to wave them away. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you are an eunuch you would make a damn good husband.”

“That’s… highly inappropriate for you to say,” a flush of pink makes its way to his face.

“Loosen up,” you shrug. “We’re not in the palace anymore.”

“There could be listening ears.”

“Here?” You scoff. “No way. They’ll never find us.”

A gust of wind passed through, rustling the trees. The scent of rain hung in the air, thick and heavy.

You followed him onto the porch, sinking down onto the wooden steps. A comfortable silence stretched between you both.

Nanami turned his head slightly. “Did you ever love him?”

The question wasn’t unexpected. But the answer…

Your hands tightened in your lap. Your chest ached.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I did.”

Nanami hummed, as if he already knew.

You bit your lip, gaze distant. “And that’s what makes it so hard.”

Nanami nodded, his usual sharp demeanor softening. “Love is never simple.”

You turned your head, looking at him with something close to curiosity. “Have you ever been in love, Nanami?”

For the first time that morning, you saw the corner of his lips twitch upward in something resembling amusement.

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

You raised a brow. “What would you call it, then?”

Nanami exhaled, resting his elbows on his knees. “An unfortunate attachment.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. The sound was warm, familiar, a reminder of a life before everything unraveled.

The tension in your chest eased, just slightly.

The wind blew again, carrying with it the distant laughter of children, the sound of a woman calling her husband home, the rustling of bamboo trees swaying in the breeze.

For a moment, just a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that this could last.

That this small, quiet life could be yours.

The village was peaceful that evening.

The last remnants of sunlight bled into the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep amber and violet. The rice paddies stretched far into the distance, their golden stalks swaying gently with the breeze. Smoke curled from the thatched roofs of houses, the scent of simmering miso and fresh grain filling the air. Children ran through the dirt paths, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes, their innocence untouched by the quiet storm that lurked on the horizon.

You stood at the entrance of your small home, eyes trained on the fading sun. A cool wind brushed against your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. Something about the stillness of the evening set you on edge, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Behind you, Nanami finished setting the table, his movements practiced and efficient. “Come inside,” he called, his voice steady as ever. “It’s getting cold.”

You hesitated, something in your gut twisting.

You had felt this before. A warning. A shift.

Slowly, you stepped inside, closing the wooden door behind you. The candlelight flickered, casting soft shadows against the walls. Nanami had prepared a modest meal, steamed rice, pickled vegetables, miso soup with tofu. You sat across from him, but the unease in your chest remained.

Nanami noticed. He always did.

His gaze flickered up, studying your expression. “You’re unsettled.”

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the warm ceramic of your bowl, seeking comfort in its heat. “It’s… too quiet.”

“The village is always quiet at this hour,” he pointed out.

You shook your head. “Not like this.”

A pause. Then, Nanami set down his chopsticks. “You sense something.”

You swallowed. “Don’t you?”

Nanami didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against the wooden table in thought. Finally, he spoke.

“There have been whispers.”

Your breath hitched. “What kind of whispers?”

He looked at you then, and something in his gaze was heavier than before.

“The kind that don’t reach villages like this unless they are meant to be heard.”

The food in your mouth suddenly tasted like dust.

Nanami continued, voice even but firm. “Travelers passing through have spoken of movement in the capital. The Zenin and Gojo clans are consolidating their forces after rumors of resistance in this region.”

Your stomach twisted.

The Gojo and Zenin clans consolidating must only mean one thing. 

Your fists clenched beneath the table. “It’s him, isn’t it? He married Himiko—and now they’re coming for us, calling it treason.” No matter how powerful Suguru was, you knew his silver tongue and lofty rank could only shield you for so long.

Nanami studied you for a moment. “There’s no confirmation.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “It doesn’t need confirmation.”

Because of course it would be him.

Who else could unite the two most powerful clans in Japan? Who else had the power to move an entire army without resistance? Who else had enough obsession to still chase you after all this time?

Nanami sighed, his expression unreadable. “If it is him… then this village may not be safe much longer.”

The air around you grew suffocating.

He was coming.

The weight of that realization settled deep into your bones, into the very marrow of your being. The small, fleeting life you had begun to carve out here, the quiet mornings, the warmth of the village, the laughter of children, the routine of simple tasks. It was all temporary.

Because Gojo Satoru was coming.

And he would burn the world to the ground to take you back. Out of cruelty. 

You pushed your bowl aside, suddenly losing your appetite. “We should leave.”

Nanami’s gaze darkened. “Not yet.”

Your brows furrowed. “Nanami–”

“If we leave now, we confirm the suspicions of anyone watching,” he said, voice low, calculated. “We need to be smart. We need time.”

You hated that he was right.

Silence stretched between you both, filled only by the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Then, Nanami did something unexpected.

He reached across the table, placing a hand over yours.

The touch was brief, steady, grounding. “We will figure this out.”

You stared at him, at the sharp angles of his face, at the unwavering certainty in his gaze. And for the first time since the unease settled into your chest, you believed him.

But still, deep in the back of your mind, you knew this was only the calm before the storm.

The night, you dreamt of him. 

Not the kind of fleeting, disjointed dream that dissolves like mist upon waking, but the kind that wraps around your very soul, warm and golden, refusing to let go. It was the kind of dream that felt real, so heartbreakingly vivid that, for a moment, you were no longer lying in a modest village home with the scent of burning wood creeping in from the outside world, no longer burdened by the weight of the choices you had made. You were home.

Not the home you had made for yourself in exile, but the home of your past, a home gilded with silken screens and quiet whispers, with polished floors that gleamed beneath lantern light, and with delicate tapestries woven with the history of an empire you had once believed could be yours. The place where you had once walked with the quiet assurance of someone who belonged, where your voice had been heard, where your name had been spoken with reverence rather than secrecy.

It was spring. The season of renewal, of beginnings, of hope.

You found yourself beneath the vast expanse of the sky, the air thick with the heady perfume of blooming wisteria and the faint, refreshing scent of the nearby stream that wound through the imperial gardens. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their pale petals drifting lazily through the air like whispered promises, catching in your hair and dusting the ground in a carpet of soft pink. The wind carried the sound of distant laughter, the gentle rustling of leaves.

And above you–

Satoru.

His silhouette was bathed in the afternoon light, the golden hues catching in his white hair, making him look almost otherworldly. He leaned over you, one arm braced against the soft grass, shielding his eyes against the sun’s glare, the other resting lightly beside your shoulder. His robes, though still of the finest silk, were simple today, stripped of the heavy embroidery and rigid embellishments that marked him as the heir to the most powerful clan in the land. The imperial crest was absent from his attire, and for once, he was just Satoru.

And his eyes.

Brilliant, piercing cerulean, sharp and knowing yet warm in a way that only he could be. You had spent so much of your life searching for the ocean’s reflection in them, for the endless sky in the depths of that unrelenting blue, and now, after all this time, they looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever truly mattered.

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, the shadow of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“You’re staring,” he mused, his voice smooth as silk, his amusement evident in the lazy drawl of his words.

You huffed softly, turning onto your side, the grass cool beneath your palms. “I’m admiring,” you corrected, your tone just as light.

Satoru chuckled, his laughter as rich and effortless as it had always been, a sound that made the world feel lighter, that made you feel lighter. “Is there a difference?” he asked, feigning innocence, though the mischief in his eyes betrayed him.

You sighed, exasperated but fond. “One makes you sound less arrogant.”

He grinned at that, finally shifting to lie beside you, stretching out as if the entire world belonged to him. And in a way, it did.

But in this moment, he belonged to you.

“Pft,” he blows a raspberry into the air. “Let me bask in it, will you? You never give me this kind of attention.”

The wind stirred the branches above, sending another cascade of petals drifting down around you, a few landing in the silver strands of his hair. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing them away, your fingertips barely skimming the silk of his robes as you did. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, only watched you with that same unwavering gaze, as if he were committing you to memory, as if he were terrified you might disappear before his eyes.

“You know,” he murmured after a moment, his voice quieter now, as though he, too, did not want to shatter the fragile peace between you, “I wish we could stay like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Because so did you.

More than anything, you wished for a world in which this moment, this feeling, this love could exist without consequence.

But you were not foolish. You had always known the truth.

This was never a love that could be without suffering. You were only a concubine, after all. A spoil of war. Not fit to be made an empress. 

You swallowed, willing yourself to keep your voice steady. “We can’t,” you said, though you hated the way the words tasted on your tongue.

Satoru turned his head to face you more fully, his expression unreadable at first, before something flickered across his features, something softer, something pleading.

“Who says?” he asked, and his tone was so quiet, so unlike the brash, overconfident man you had known, that it made your heart ache. “Tell me who says we can’t, and I’ll destroy them.”

You laughed then, a small, sad sound, because you knew he meant it.

“Satoru.”

“I’m serious.” He propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand coming to rest just beside your wrist, close enough that you could feel his warmth but far enough that he wasn’t touching you. “What’s stopping us? The court? The elders? The weight of the empire? Let them have it all. I don’t need any of it.”

You turned to look at him fully now, your chest tightening at the raw honesty in his face, the way he looked at you as if you were his entire world.

And maybe, once upon a time, you had been.

But the world did not belong to you and Satoru alone.

You reached out, letting your fingers trail lightly over his knuckles before pulling away. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, though a part of you desperately wanted to believe that he did.

Satoru’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to grab your hand and never let go. “I do.”

And maybe, for that moment, he truly believed it.

But deep down, you both knew better.

The empire would never let him go.

Just as it would never let you be his.

The breeze picked up again, scattering more petals through the air, the scent of cherry blossoms thick and sweet, overwhelming. You wanted to stay here, in this moment, forever. You wanted to pretend that this could last, that you could stay in his arms and never worry about what came next.

But the moment began to waver, the edges of the dream blurring, the sunlight dimming.

And then, suddenly, the gardens were gone.

The warmth, the laughter, the scent of cherry blossoms… all of it melted away into smoke.

Your dream had shifted to another scene.

It was of the familiar scene of the bustling city just outside of the Outer Palace. The capital city had always been lively, but today it seemed to hum with an extra spark. The streets bustled with merchants peddling fragrant spices and embroidered silks, laughter echoed from the open-air teahouses, and the golden rooftops of the imperial palace gleamed under the afternoon sun like something out of a story.

You had just returned from your weekly errand, fetching a fresh batch of pastries from the emperor’s favorite bakery. The baker’s son had been in high spirits as usual, teasing you for being the only person in the city who could make the imperial kitchens jealous with how often you snuck in outside food.

But it wasn’t just the pastries you carried today.

A tiny, delicate flower rested in the palm of your hand, given to you by a child, a sweet little girl who had tugged on your sleeve just as you were leaving the marketplace.

"For you, miss!" she had chirped, eyes bright with admiration.

You had accepted it with a beaming smile, ruffling her hair before she scurried back to her group of friends, giggling and chattering about how pretty the imperial concubine was.

The city loved you.

Perhaps it was because you were one of them, despite the palace silks and the golden embroidery of the Gojo clan stitched into your robes, you had never let your status turn you into something untouchable.

So there you were, practically glowing, a flower twirling between your fingers as you strolled through the palace gardens, utterly unaware that your mere existence was about to ruin the emperor’s evening.

Because at that very moment, Satoru Gojo was staring at you with the expression of a man moments away from declaring war. He had been waiting at the gates of his own palace unceremoniously, counting down the seconds until you made it back, only for his bright spirits to be crushed.

By a flower.

A single, wretched flower.

In your hand.

And you were smiling.

Satoru didn’t even realize he had stopped in his tracks. His mind, sharp and dangerously quick, was already cycling through the list of punishments he could bestow upon the unfortunate soul who had given it to you.

Banishment? Too lenient. Public humiliation? Getting warmer. Immediate execution? …No, too messy. Forced labor in the outer provinces? Perfect.

His hands flexed at his sides. His jaw ticked. His vision tunneled.

He was going to make an example out of whoever had dared…

And then, you turned, your eyes meeting his.

And you smiled even brighter.

"Your Majesty!" you called, voice light with amusement, as if he weren’t currently five seconds away from storming the dungeons and demanding names.

You all but skipped toward him, the flower still twirling between your fingers, completely unaware of the absolute existential crisis you had just caused.

Gojo’s icy blue gaze flickered between your face and the flower, as if trying to determine which offended him more.

"What," he began, his tone deceptively casual, "is that?"

You blinked. "A flower?"

His eye twitched.

"I can see that," he muttered, before stepping closer—close enough that the sheer heat of his presence sent a shiver down your spine. "I meant, who gave it to you?"

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Why do you assume someone gave it to me? Maybe I plucked it from the fields myself."

Satoru let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Ha." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Try again, sweetheart."

Your lips twitched, but before you could answer, a voice piped up–

"It was me!"

Both of you turned to find a child, the same little girl from earlier, standing at the edge of the gates of the Outer Palace, her face alight with pride.

"I gave her the flower!" she repeated, puffing out her chest. "Because she’s the prettiest lady in the whole city!"

Silence. A long, long silence.

Gojo stared. You suppressed laughter.

His entire body visibly relaxed.

The tension in his jaw disappeared, the storm in his eyes cleared, and for a single, fleeting moment, the Emperor of Japan looked genuinely speechless.

And then, he scoffed.

"Well, I suppose I can’t punish a child," he muttered, crossing his arms with a dramatic sigh. "What a shame."

You finally let out a laugh, shaking your head as you knelt beside the girl. "Thank you, little one," you whispered, tucking the flower into your sleeve.

The girl giggled before scurrying away, leaving just the two of you standing in the palace once more.

Satoru watched you carefully, his arms still crossed, his signature smirk just barely returning to his lips.

"You looked like you were five seconds away from passing a death sentence," you teased, eyeing him with amusement.

His expression didn’t waver.

"Oh, I was."

You rolled your eyes. "And what would you have done if it wasn’t a child?"

Gojo hummed, tilting his head as if considering. "Well…" His smirk sharpened. "Let’s just say the baker’s son would have found himself mysteriously exiled to the coldest province in the empire."

You froze.

Your stomach dropped.

Because oh– oh no.

He knew.

Satoru watched, relishing in the way your posture stiffened, the way your gaze flickered just slightly, as if calculating whether it was worth denying it.

"Your Majesty, I–"

"You what?" He raised a brow, leaning in once more, his voice dipping into something dangerously sweet.

"You think I wouldn’t hear about the little romance rumors floating around the palace?" He chuckled, voice laced with something possessive, something undeniably jealous. "You think I wouldn’t know about the way the baker’s son looks at you?"

You swallowed. "It’s just gossip."

"Is it?"

Gojo’s voice was far too amused, far too smug, because he already knew the answer.

And then, just because he could, he lowered his voice even further, leaning in until his lips were barely a breath away from your ear.

"Promise me you won’t leave me."

Your heart stopped.

You turned to him, but the moment you did, he pulled back, flashing you a grin that was far too pleased with itself.

"Don’t look so surprised," he mused, turning on his heel and walking away, hands tucked into his sleeves.

Then, over his shoulder.

"After all, I won’t let anyone take you away."

And then you’re awaken.

Your chest heaved, your skin damp with sweat, your heart pounding so violently against your ribs that for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

The room was dark. Cold.

How cruel your mind was to remind you of such warm times.

The early morning light filtered through the wooden shutters, casting long golden streaks across the small room. Outside, the village was already stirring with women gathering water from the well, the rhythmic pounding of rice in wooden mortars, the occasional laugh of a child running past. The scent of damp earth and fresh grass filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of dried herbs that hung from the ceiling.

Inside, you sat on the floor, weaving together dried reeds into a basket, fingers moving deftly despite the lingering morning chill. Across from you, Nanami was sharpening a knife, the slow, deliberate drag of steel against stone filling the quiet space between you.

It was a comfortable silence, one that had settled between you both over the past two weeks, a rhythm that neither of you spoke of, yet understood nonetheless.

“You’re getting better at that,” Nanami remarked, not looking up from his work.

You snorted softly, twisting another reed into place. “You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

You tossed a loose strand of reed at him. He caught it midair without even glancing, setting it aside with a faint huff of amusement.

Nanami tilted his head slightly, observing you from the corner of his eye. “What?”

You blinked, realizing you had been staring. “Nothing.”

His brow arched slightly, but he let it go, returning to his blade. The light glinted off the edge, sharp and lethal. You watched the way his hands moved steady.

Something in your chest tightened.

“You don’t think this is going to last, do you?” you asked suddenly.

Nanami paused.

The scrape of the whetstone against steel stopped, leaving only the distant sounds of the village outside. Slowly, he set the blade down, his gaze meeting yours, level and unreadable.

“…No.”

A lump formed in your throat. You nodded, looking away. “Neither do I.”

Silence.

Then, a sound.

Distant, almost imperceptible. A strange sort of rumbling.

Your fingers stopped weaving.

Nanami was already rising to his feet, his entire body going rigid. His hand went to the knife on the table. His sharp gaze flickered toward the window, toward the thin slit between the shutters. His breath was slow, measured, but you could feel the shift in his presence, the quiet kind of alertness that came before a storm.

And then a scream erupted.

Distant. But close enough.

Your blood ran cold.

Nanami moved.

He crossed the room in two strides, yanking the shutters open. And what you saw fire.

Distant but spreading.

Smoke rising in thick columns from the edge of the village, black against the early morning sky. The distinct sound of hooves against dirt, of metal clashing, of doors being kicked in. Then, through the haze of rising flames, you saw banners. Not just any banners.

Gojo’s crest.

Your breath hitched.

Nanami didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the back entrance. “We need to move.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, feet stumbling as you let him drag you forward. This was happening.

He had found you.

Gojo had found you.

Days before the raid, the palace pulsed with restless energy. Servants flitted through the corridors, their hurried steps echoing against the lacquered floors as they fastened armor, sharpened blades, and prepared provisions. The campaign was supposed to be routine, a small raid to quell rumors of insurrection in a remote village. Yet, the Emperor himself was leading the charge.

No one questioned it aloud. But the whispers wove through the palace like smoke.

In his private chambers, Gojo stood at the window, watching the courtyard below as soldiers mounted their horses, their banners snapping in the cold wind. His reflection stared back at him in the glass. His grip tightened behind his back.

"You’re awfully tense for such a minor skirmish," Himiko mused, lounging on the divan behind him. The golden silk of her robes pooled around her like a shimmering snare. She lifted a cup to her lips, watching him over the rim, her gaze sharp. "One might think there’s more at stake here than a simple village purge."

Gojo didn’t turn.

"One might."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Himiko hummed, setting her cup down with a delicate clink. "You’ve always been so stubborn. So unwilling to accept the order of things." She rose, crossing the room with slow, deliberate steps. "It’s a shame, really. You could’ve been content. You could’ve let go."

Her fingers brushed his sleeve. A touch meant to soothe. To remind.

His hand snapped up, catching her wrist before she could go any further.

Himiko stilled, lips parting in the slightest gasp. Not from pain, he wasn’t squeezing hard enough for that. But his grip was firm, unyielding. The weight of it said more than any words could.

A muscle flickered in Gojo’s jaw. "Do you think this is forever?" His voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made the candlelight tremble.

Himiko’s smile didn’t falter, but something in her gaze shifted. "I think," she murmured, tilting her head, "that you’re still bound by the same chains as always. No matter how strong you are, some things can’t be undone."

Gojo released her. The moment stretched, brittle as ice. Then he turned, striding toward the door, his long robes whispering against the floor.

Outside, his men were waiting. His horse was waiting.

And somewhere beyond the mountains, the one thing he had ever truly wanted was waiting.

He had wasted enough time.

The streets were already chaos. Villagers running, shrieking, clutching their children as armed soldiers stormed through the narrow paths. Houses were being torn apart, doors broken down. Soldiers clad in imperial armor barked orders, swords flashing as they cut down those who resisted.

Your breath came short, panic clawing at your throat.

Nanami’s grip on your wrist was firm. “Stay close.”

You barely nodded, your body moving on instinct as he guided you through the chaos. You ducked behind a stack of crates, pressing yourself against the wood as two soldiers passed by. Nanami’s body shielded yours, his presence grounding you even as your hands trembled.

A sharp whistle.

Nanami cursed, shoving you aside just as an arrow embedded itself into the wood where your head had been a moment ago.

You gasped.

Another whistle.

Nanami moved. He spun, his knife flashing, a throw, a sickening thud, a body crumpling.

Blood.

It hit the dirt in a slow, steady stream.

You stared.

Nanami grabbed your face, forcing your gaze back to him. “Focus.”

Your lips parted, breath shuddering. But you nodded.

He pulled you forward, weaving through the panicked masses. The exit. You needed to get to the forest to escape before it was too late.

A tall figure clad in white and blue, standing at the center of the destruction, untouched by the chaos.

Gojo Satoru.

Your feet froze.

His eyes locked onto yours instantly. Even from across the village square, even through the haze of smoke and bodies, you could feel the weight of his gaze. The way his body shifted the moment he saw you.

For a moment, nothing else existed.

Nanami saw him at the same time. His entire body went rigid.

Gojo took a slow step forward. His imperial robes billowed slightly with the movement, the embroidery glinting under the firelight, his armor forged from precious metals glistened in the sunlight. His sword hung at his hip, untouched, as if he hadn’t even needed to lift it.

Nanami’s grip on your arm tightened.

Gojo’s expression darkened. His gaze flickered between the two of you visibly irked by the domestic dynamic that had recently developed.

His lips parted, his voice cutting through the carnage like a blade. “Found you.”

Your stomach twisted.

Nanami moved.

But Gojo was faster.

Before either of you could react, a blur of motion, a gust of force, unstoppable. Nanami was on the ground. The blond man coughed out blood.

Your scream barely had time to leave your throat before Gojo was in front of you, too close, too fast. His fingers wrapped around your wrist. Unyielding.

The air was thick with the scent of smoke and blood, the distant wails of the ravaged village melding into the wind. Your hands trembled as you clenched them at your sides, willing yourself to remain still. The weight of the past, of every wound he had inflicted upon you, settled deep in your bones.

“Running from me again?” His voice was a whisper of thunder, low and dangerous. “I thought we were past that.”

You had been running for so long, but had you ever truly escaped him? Every step you took away from him, every sleepless night, every whispered prayer for his absence, and yet here he was, a specter that refused to fade.

Your heart leapt to your throat as his fingers clamped around your wrist, tightening as you attempted to yank yourself free. His other hand rose, tracing the curve of your cheek with deceptive gentleness, the callouses rough against your skin.

“Did you truly believe I wouldn’t come for you?”

Your breath came shallow. “Gojo–”

His fingers curled against your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his unrelenting grip told a different story. He had always been relentless, hadn’t he? No matter how much you tried to pull away, he found his way back, like a tide that refused to recede.

“Nanami,” he said coldly. “Do your job. Lead the men back.”

A moment of hesitation, a flicker of something like pity in Nanami’s eyes before he turned away. You were glad he did. Gojo had spared him enough not to strike him down on the spot. 

Soon, only the two of you remained, locked in a battle more ferocious than the ones fought with swords.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. Your attempts to struggle were fruitless; his body caged you, muscles honed by years of war making it impossible to flee. The warmth of him, the sheer familiarity of his presence, made something inside you ache against your will.

“Why do you run?” His voice was softer now, coaxing.

Your lips curled in a bitter smile. “Are you nothing more than a brute?”

His grip faltered, a shadow of hurt flashing in his eyes. But you didn’t care. His pain was nothing compared to the agony he had inflicted upon you.

“You claim to care for me,” you spat, voice shaking with fury, “yet you cast me aside like a discarded pawn. You chose another, again and again, and then have the audacity to crawl back to me.”

Your voice cracked, but your anger did not waver.

“You humiliated me. You shattered my world and toyed with my heart like it was nothing more than a trinket. I hate you, Gojo Satoru. I hate you so much it consumes me.”

The tears spilled unchecked, your body trembling as the dam within you finally broke. You were certain you looked wretched, but dignity was a luxury you had long since abandoned.

His silence was unbearable. The weight of his guilt pressed between you, thick and suffocating, but you refused to let it soften you.

“You have hurt me beyond repair,” you whispered. “I always knew our love would bring pain, but I never thought it would be at your hands.”

Satoru swallowed hard, his large hands wiping away each tear as they fell.

“You lied to me,” you murmured, fists weakly beating against his chest. He lets you.

“I did.”

“You banished me.”

“I did.”

“You told me you loved me.”

His grip tightened. “I do.”

Your breath hitched. “I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you insisted, though the conviction was waning. Did you? Did you truly?

His lips brushed against your temple, his hands cradling your face with unbearable tenderness, “Don’t you know that you’re killing me? That your words pierce me like no other blade?”

You exhaled shakily. “Then why aren’t you dead yet?”

A broken sound left his throat as he pulled you impossibly closer, until your bodies were melded together, until his warmth became a prison of its own.

“Take it back,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse. “Please.”

But you said nothing, staring past him to the charred ruins beyond. Nanami had rallied the men, but the damage had already been done. And so had the damage to your heart. 

“Your army is leaving,” you said numbly. “Why don’t you go join them, General?”

His face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot. And yet, as much as you wanted it to, the sight did not disgust you. Instead, a sick sense of satisfaction curled within you at his suffering.

“Not until you come back,” he declared. "Until you let me explain myself."

You laughed, sharp and humorless. It did not deter him.

He continues his plea, “You can humiliate me in the palace. You can strip me of every last shred of dignity. Do whatever you wish."

He pauses.

"Just come back.”

You tried to put distance between you, but his hold remained firm.

“You still don’t understand, do you?” Your voice wavered. “I am not yours anymore. I haven’t been yours since you chose her. Since you cast me aside for the sake of your kingdom.”

By now, Satoru’s trembling lips had given way to the relentless shaking of his entire body, “I never touched her. My hand was forced. Nothing happened.” Somewhere amid your onslaught, Satoru had forgotten how to breathe. His chest rose in shallow, uneven gasps, his shoulders trembling beneath the weight of words he couldn’t take back. His fingers curled into fists so tight they trembled, knuckles drained of color. He was unraveling right in front of you.

“Everyone around me speaks of my destiny, as if it were carved into the heavens themselves. They whisper that I was born to rule Japan, to claim a throne, to take a noble wife like Himiko and secure a legacy of power.” Satoru’s voice trembles, raw and desperate, as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like he’s trying to commit you to memory. His hands clutch you tighter, as if you might slip through his fingers at any moment.

“But none of that means a damn thing to me. My destiny isn’t a kingdom—it’s you. It always has been. My place is by your side, not on a throne. I would spend a thousand lifetimes serving you, worshiping you, loving you. We were made for each other, meant to grow old together, to laugh and fight and dream until the very end. To pass down our love, our story—not to this damn empire, but to our grandchildren.”

His breath is shaky against your skin, his grip unrelenting. “Please,” he whispers, voice breaking, “don’t take that from me.”

You wanted to. Wanted to reach for him, to piece him back together, but the raw ache in your chest held you still.

How many times have you stood here, waiting for him to say something, anything, that would make the hurt go away? How many times have you let yourself believe that his silence wasn’t a choice?

You swallowed hard, throat burning. “You don’t get to do this,” you whispered.

His head jerked up, eyes wide, pleading.

“You don’t get to shake and break down and expect me to forget everything,” you continued, voice cracking. “You left me. You let me believe I didn’t matter.”

Satoru exhaled sharply, like the words had physically struck him. “I never–”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, stepping back when he tried to move closer. “Just don’t.”

The silence between them was thick, heavy with unsaid things. Satoru’s breaths came fast and shallow, his entire body vibrating with something between anguish and regret.

Still, you held on to the hurt. Let it press against your ribs, let it remind you that you weren’t just here to be broken all over again. You weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet. But damn it, you wanted to.

“If it will ease your doubts, I’ll have her head in glass by morning.”

You shuddered. “I don’t want her dead.”

“Then she lives to see another day.”

“And the Zenins?” Your teeth clenched, voice shaking with restrained fury. “I tried to warn you about them, tried to protect you, but you chose to humiliate me instead.”

His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, deliberate and lingering, as if etching you into his memory. “I am truly sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now, edged with regret. “It was a foolish attempt to keep you safe from those damn elders. I may be the ceremonial head of this country, but their power is undeniable. Your banishment was my own foolish doing to protect you after my mistress was forced upon me. I knew I was lost when I couldn’t breathe without your presence in the palace. The days blurred together, and my duties felt like nothing but a slow death. So, I tried to bring you back as my servant. It was safer that way. You were close, within reach, but still out of grasp. At least you were there. But then... I ruined it all. ”

You hadn’t tried to bite his finger off yet. He took it as an unspoken truce, leaning in, his presence overwhelming, his warmth sinking into your skin. “Not that it matters though. I'm going to kill those geezers and have their heads strung in front of the palace.” A flicker of a smirk ghosted his lips, but his eyes held something far more dangerous.

“I may be a fool,” he admitted, his breath brushing against you, “but I am not weak. So don’t waste a single thought on them.” His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face toward his. “No one, not them, not fate itself, will take you from me.”

A cruel part of you savored the power you held over him. But you wanted him to suffer longer before you gave the satisfaction of knowing that your heart had softened. “I haven’t forgiven you.”

His hands trembled. “We have a lifetime for that.”

"How arrogant of you to assume I’d ever choose to spend a lifetime with you." Your voice was quiet, but the weight of your words struck like a blade.

You shouldn't feel as satisfied as you did when you watched Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive crumpled. His breath hitched, his knees buckling beneath him as if the sheer force of your rejection had stolen the ground from under him.

Still, he reached for you. Desperation bled into his touch, fingers digging into your sleeves as though letting go would mean losing you forever. His voice, usually laced with arrogance and ease, was stripped raw.

“Then I don’t see a point in living.”

The weight of his confession clung to the air, thick and suffocating, and yet he only looked at you, as if the universe itself had been reduced to the space between his hands and your skin.

“And what of your crown?” you finally whispered.

His laugh was hollow, almost broken. “I’d throw it away if it meant keeping you. If it meant you will let me be yours.”

Then, as if surrendering himself entirely, both knees met the dirt. His hands, once accustomed to wielding absolute power, clung to your waist, not as an emperor, not as the strongest, but as a man begging to be allowed to stay.

His eyes burned into yours, pleading, unraveling.

And for the first time, you let him hold you. This time, you didn’t pull away.

A shuddering breath left his lips against your skin, as if he couldn’t believe you were real, as if he feared you might slip away the moment he let go. His grip tightened, not in possession, but in reverence.

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of rain, of earth, of something on the verge of breaking.

"I expect you to kneel at my feet and beg for years to come." You murmured, fingers brushing against the strands of his silver hair. A handful of hair is gripped tightly, fingers digging in with purpose. "Perhaps then, I might even consider you once more."

His throat bobbed. "If that is what it takes."

This was not just an apology, nor was it a confession. It was surrender in the purest sense. The weight of his kingdom, his sins, his power. All of it, cast aside for you. It was the justice you deserved after all the pain you endured.

reblogs and comments are appreciated mwah!

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[ponds-of-ink]

Here’s a quick follow up to my previous post because I’ve just had a brainwave.

What if these Kitsunes engaged in an all-out tournament to see who can create the most chaos in their town and not get caught?

Bugs Bunny shenanigans, but these guys have serious full-on rivalries and such.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Fall of an Empire

Summary: The fall of an empire began because of the love for a woman.

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader (romantic), Emperor Caracalla x Reader (platonic)

A/N: I will be honest, wish I had written this as soon as I left theaters but it's as good as I could make it. 😅

Warning: Major character deaths and some movie spoilers if you haven't seen it yet

Divider credits @saradika

It was never meant for her.

To most onlookers, it became quite obvious that should anything ever happen to the empress, that it would not take long for the twin emperors to descend into madness. The two had a penchant for violence, one that was difficult for them to be ever satisfied and somehow it came to be that Geta, was consumed by the love and affection he held for his wife from the moment their eyes met on the day they were wed.

While Caracalla viewed her with a brotherly love, calling her sister the day they met and appreciating her all the more when she gifted him with his prized monkey Dondas. Her gentle but firm hand was quick to soften the temper of the brothers, there was still a madness that brewed beneath the surface and all knew, it would all turn to ruin should anything befall the young empress.

She shouldn't have been there that day.

Still in the early months, the empress' pregnancy was an open secret amongst everyone in the senate and many were cautious to incur the wrath of their emperors as their protectiveness seemed to reach even greater heights than was the norm. Her recent symptoms had her spending much more time in the royal couples chambers, hiding away to let the nauseousness abate. The same symptom that had kept her from being by the side of her husband and brother by law during the first initial days of games in the colosseum meant to celebrate the conquest of Numidia.

The fateful day had begun like most in its mundanity for the young Emperor Geta and his lovely wife (Y/N), both rousing slowly with the rise of Helios in the sky with their legs tangled together and in a tender warm embrace as they had slept. Geta was careful to cradle his wife in his arms, his hands languidly caressing her small bump that had only recently begun to show in recent weeks.

"How is the little one treating you this morning, beloved?" Geta whispered between soft kisses to her neck.

Stretching tiredly, she cupped his cheek in her hand, "Much better than usual. I think the concoction made by the healer has finally had an effect because I actual feel like joining you and Caracalla today."

"Are you certain?" he asked softly. "There's no need for you to join us if you aren't feeling up to the task. I can come up with another excuse if needed."

"Stop fussing, my love" she giggled. "I truly feel leagues better and the gladiators will be fighting by water today, do you think I would want to miss such a feat?"

His brow creased in uncertainty. He knew that if his wife was truly not up to the task of being by his side that she would make it known. But there was an uneasiness that he couldn't seem to shake off.

He gently untangled himself from their loving embrace, quickly dressing himself in a robe and took strides to the jeweled chest atop of her vanity, clutching the box to his chest and returning to her side. Carefully, Geta helped his wife put on her jewelry and pressing a kiss to her hands or lips for every adornment that he placed on her.

"Your well being is my top priority," he said kneeled by her side. "The moment that you feel anything amiss, we leave. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my love" she conceded with a smile.

Geta wasn't given a chance to say anything more as the doors to their chambers were pushed open by none other than Caracalla. The younger brother giggling in amusement when he stepped in.

"Lovely morrow for a bit of violence and blood, wouldn't you say brother? Will my radiant sister join us at last or has your little parasite incapacitated her once more?"

"I will be with both of you, little brother" (Y/N) said gently. "And please refrain from calling your niece or nephew a parasite, you wouldn't want to upset them before they have even arrived."

Caracalla waved her off and smiled, "The little parasite can complain when they're older. Until then, I can call them whatever I like because they seem to enjoy making you suffer." He leaned down and spoke to the small bump, "You'll be an absolute menace, isn't that right little parasite?"

Geta huffed out in mild annoyance and began to push his brother out of the room, "You can make more complaints about my progeny later. My wife and I are still not dressed."

"Oh, I don't mind staying."

"We will see you in the colosseum brother," Geta said with a shove and closing the doors. When they were shut, he turned back to his wife. "Let us make haste then before he tries to come bother again."

It was chaos below in the arena, the barbarian Hanno had led his group of men into ramming their boat against the opposing side and there was so much to see that it all became difficult to track. Smoke from the flames burning the boat made the task near impossible, but it didn't stop the adrenaline from coursing the veins of the young emperors from the glimpses they could see.

"My love," the empress called to her husband in worry. "They're too close, it's too close. We must leave or take caution, the men and boats are too close."

"Don't make such a fuss, sister" Caracalla said but his gaze stayed on the carnage below. "Things are getting interesting."

Below their sight, Hanno had a crossbow in his hands with the clear intent of killing the General Acacius. The aforementioned man had no chance to warn his empress that was seated in front of him of the gladiators intentions.

It all happened so fast.

It was an accident.

The crossbow was jostled in Hanno's hands as the arrow was let loose and it struck dead center between the two emperors.

And into the empress' chest.

The two men screamed in horror, unused to the violence being so close and it having any true impact to them. Caracalla was hysterical as guards pulled him away; screeching, hitting, and calling for something to be done for his sister. While Geta was enraged as he tried to temper his emotions and pushing the guards aside.

"Everything will be alright, wife" Geta said as he held his wife's hand in his own that trembled. "We will bring the healer and then find the gladiator that is to be dealt with!"

The empress could not respond, choking on her blood as she tried to reach for her husbands face before her final breath left her body.

When she went limp in his grasp, there was no halting the enraged wail from Geta as he lost his beloved bride and unborn child in a single moment.

Nothing could stop the spiral of destruction that followed the demise of the empress.

It was General Acacius' fault as the arrow was meant for him.

It was Lucillas fault for birthing the bastard that did it.

It was their fault

It was THEIR fault

It was Geta's fault.

Or so Caracalla's mind was led to believe as he and his brother sought refuge away from the hordes of people that sought to remove them from their seats of power.

His beloved sister (Y/N) and her little parasite were gone because Geta had failed to protect them.

Dondas and he would soon follow if Geta was permitted to reign alongside him any longer.

With every slash, the voices calmed in Caracalla's mind, and it soothed him to see the same rivers of blood flow down his brother's chest just as he had seen happen to his lovely sister.

Geta although unwilling, was to be reunited with his wife and child.

Caracalla would join them soon enough.

[proustianrevelry]

Gideon fully embraces her role as cavalier (long-suffering subordinate, but still a type of intimate partner) after she finds out Harrow is wed to Christ fanatically, worshipfully in love with The Body

[radawaycunt]

Aqua Thermae

Also on AO3

Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Summary: After a particularly great victory in the arena, Lucius is rewarded with both a visit to a bathhouse and you -- a high-ranking courtesan -- to keep him company.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI this fic is 18+), reader is a courtesan (so SW), mentions of violence, shenanigans in and out of water, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, maybe some historical inaccuracies? forgive my sins please, and I thinkkk that's it but lmk if anything else!

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It had been a very long time since he’d been somewhere so luxurious. One of Rome’s finest bathhouses brought echoes of a comfortable life long past in the emperor’s palace. The marble pillars and fine mosaic floors, the detailed frescoes on the walls, and a large thermal pool all for himself.

Then other flashes of memory came to him – his mother’s kindness, his father’s armor, his uncle Comodus’ booming voice, and the cross of their swords…

He shucked his heavy breastplate and immediately felt the steam on his already sweat-slick skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. If only memories were so easy to get rid of, he might not always feel so tormented.

Lavishness was not something he had ever actively sought out, even if he was entitled to it as the direct descendant to the throne, but it was strange to think he was once accustomed to it. So much had happened since his forced departure, like a hundred lives melding into one.

Now, after a long, grueling fight with a mighty rhinoceros and its fierce rider, he wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the warm water until his head swam and his muscles no longer ached so badly.

But then he noticed you standing on one side of the pool, a carafe of wine and a platter of dates, cheese, and nuts waiting on a low table next to you. You smiled as your eyes locked and Lucius’ back immediately straightened. Not much took him by surprise anymore, but this certainly had.

“Who are you?” He asked, curious rather than irritated at your presence.

You inclined your head genially. “You may call me whatever you like.”

He huffed in amusement, giving you a once-over. “Very well, then. And who sent you here?”

“Macrinus wanted nothing but the best company for you, his champion,” you said, serving him some wine. “I am to be your prize, along with this bath.”

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally and he looked away in an almost bashful manner. His profile was proud and handsome, kissed by the sun and the strikes of his opponents. He had the face of a hero history would always remember – Or at least you would, certainly.

He was hesitant at first, unsure if he could trust anything that came from Macrinus. But as he took another look at you, your allure was too great for him not to be stirred. He could tread carefully, but he didn’t really want to deny himself pleasure, however fleeting it may be.

“I take it your company is quite coveted around here?” He asked, approaching to accept the wine you offered.

You nodded in response, fingertips barely brushing his as he took the glass. He held your gaze as he took a sip and you almost lost yourself in the infinite blue of his eyes. 

“By the likes of who?” He asked.

“Fierce gladiators such as yourself,” you said pointedly, unable to help your wandering eyes from finding the rippling muscles of his chest. “Merchants. Senators. Even emperor Geta has had his fill of me, but Caracalla was content with just watching.”

“Let us not speak of them now,” he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the names of the bloodthirsty twin emperors. “Within these walls, it is just the two of us. Nothing more.”

You nodded in understanding as he set down his glass on the table. “Would you like me to help you finish undressing?”

“I can manage,” he said, but now his eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, barely covered by a nearly see-through shift. “But I should like to help you, so you may join me.”

“How very kind of you,” you grinned, a salacious edge to your tone. 

He stepped even closer, reaching to unclasp the bronze brooch at your shoulder. The shift fell in a puddle of fabric at your feet, your body completely bare underneath. He let out a small, shuddering breath, fingers lightly tracing one of your clavicles.

For a moment, his expression was clouded as something crossed his mind. He stared off into the middle distance, but before he could really lose himself, you decided to intervene. You pulled him in, one hand cupping the back of his head as you went on your tiptoes and brought your lips close to his ear.

“Whatever you’d like to forget, I should really like to help you,” you whispered.

“Everything,” he rasped, one callused hand grasping your hip, while the other gently tilted your head to one side so your lips would meet his.

You tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and breathed him in. He smelled of the arena — blood and sand and sweat. It was not unfamiliar to you, but it was heady coming off of him, fueling your growing desire. 

Deftly, he managed to reach between your bodies to undo his pteruges and the loincloth underneath, both joining your shift on the floor. You felt the hardness of his own want against your lower abdomen, but he made no move to hasten things along. 

“Come now, let us wash the day off of you,” you said softly, pulling away to guide him into the water.

You waited by the edge for him to submerge himself first, watching the way his muscles worked as he walked. He had the grace of a warrior, as if poised for attack at any moment. You almost shudder at his deep groan of contentment, leaning back against the edge. Sliding closer, you massaged his broad shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension. His hand found your calf, caressing it. 

He closed his eyes and let himself be pampered, your touch transporting him far away, beyond even the shores of Ostia. He thought of your luminous eyes, the honeyed taste of your lips, and the smell of rose oil on your skin… What lovely comfort you offered. He wanted more of you and he suspected he would still not have enough.

If winning meant earning moments like this, with you, then he would never let himself be defeated in the arena. Or elsewhere, for that matter.

“My very own Venus Pompeiana,” he said softly, turning around so he could slot his body between your legs and face you. “The Gods seem to be favoring me greatly today.”

You cupped his face tenderly. “Something tells me they will continue to do so, too.”

He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded as they dropped to your lips. “Tell me, did you emerge from the seafoam, too?”

You laughed, delighted at his words. “Yes, I am salt, and brine, and pearls made flesh.”

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the water with him. His lips found yours again and your legs wrapped around his hips, anchoring yourself to him. He submerged both of you for a moment and you chuckled against his lips when you resurfaced.

He kissed you like he might never be able to do so again — like a desperate lover forced to say goodbye before sailing off to war. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, his beard tickling the lower half of your face. Your head swam and you wished you could spend an eternity there, in that moment.

You let his hands wander a little, getting bolder by the minute, but then you pulled away and playfully swam away from him. A safe distance away, you splashed some water at him, inciting him to give chase. 

He swam after you unhurriedly, his head low in the water so that you mostly saw his eyes. You could tell he was smiling from the way they creased at the corners, and you felt a thrill low in your spine as he drew closer. It reminded you of a crocodile pursuing its prey, biding its time before the right moment came along. 

A nervous giggle escaped you as you backed away, even daring to splash more water in his direction. He slipped under the water and for a delirious moment of uncertainty, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You searched for any sign of him, but the water was cloudy and concealed him well.

Suddenly, you felt the graze of teeth on your hip and you cried out, startled. Lucius re-emerged, shaking water from his hair and cornering you against the edge of the pool.

“Got you now,” he rasped, pressing you against him and bending to kiss your throat.

“Mercy,” you gasped, smiling wide as you amiably submitted to his attention. “Oh, please have mercy.”

He lifted your hips further so that his cock rested against your folds. You tried to move against him as best as the angle would allow and he helped guide you with one hand on your hip. 

“Mercy?” he said against your jaw, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. “You see how you’ve got me? I’ve not had any mercy from you.”

You grinned slyly. “You thought I’d yield so easily?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Actually, you make it very hard not to, as much as I like to play,” you conceded, biting your lip.

He chuckled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he fought the urge to slip inside you and claim you for himself. But not yet, of course, as he wanted to play with you a little while longer too. 

“Shall we put you to the test?”

He lifted you out of the water and sat you back on the edge. With one broad palm on your sternum, he gently pushed you backward. Instinctively, your legs hiked up, but you let him be the one to spread them.

He let out a low groan at the sight, his gaze incandescent as it met yours. He kissed your calf, then the inside of your knee, and steadily progressed up your inner thigh as he propped himself half out of the water.

Your hips shifted as he got close to his target, but then he moved to your other leg, repeating the same torturously slow process. You propped up on your elbows to give him a slightly annoyed look and he grinned cheekily.

“How’s that for mercy?” He asked, but before you could respond, his head dipped and his tongue finally found where you were aching.

A breathy Oh escaped you as your back arched, fingers digging into his curls once more. He was just as skilled with his mouth as with a blade, easily finding the tenderest, most sensitive spots. He had you squirming on the tiled floors, the tip of his tongue tracing circular patterns on your clit.

“Gods,” he moaned, the taste of you only making him hungrier and greedier for more.

You tried to grind against his face, chasing the waves of pleasure that already crested over you. His beard added just enough friction to create another layer of stimulation, and soon enough, your eyes were searching for constellations at the back of your skull.

“Lucius, oh, Lucius,” you panted. “You’re gonna make me– Ah!”

He felt triumphant at your trembling under him, more honey flowing from you and onto his tongue. You made soft, almost pleading sounds, holding onto his head as if to anchor yourself. He groaned, prolonging your pleasure for as long as you both could stand it. His blood felt near boiling and yet the only cure for it was you. 

Ravenous and near feral, he pulled himself out of the water and crawled over you. Finally – mercifully – he slid into you with ease, going slow and deep at first so you could adjust to him. He watched your reactions closely, feeling himself twitch inside of you — so warm and soft and perfect for him.

But that wasn't the only way he wanted to have you, and every time either of you grew closer to the edge, he changed positions. His stamina was astounding, especially considering he had been fighting for his life only a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until you were on top of him, his hands aiding the gyrations of your hips, that you could get revenge for all his teasing. You set the pace, finding an angle where you could grind your clit against his pelvis with each move. His eyes roamed over you reverently, like you were the true goddess of love, and he was your subject worshipping at your temple. Sweat slick skin, the bounce of your breasts, your bared throat as you tilted your head backward in ecstasy… He found divinity in all of this.

His self-composure began to dissolve as his grip on you tightened. His brows furrowed and his mouth was slack, his moans spilling out wantonly. He was beautiful, so truly beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned, his hips positioning upwards to meet your movements. 

As you happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him, he lifted his torso to meet you halfway. He cupped the back of your head as his body tensed, spilling his seed inside you hotly. You came harder than before, your cunt squeezing him tightly in time with the twitching of his cock. 

Spent, you collapsed on his chest, the two of you sharing a laugh, high on endorphins. He wiped a stray strand of hair from your forehead with even more tenderness than you thought you’d ever experienced. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world, having found something so good in a place as hostile as Rome. He wouldn’t let you go so easily. 

“Come to the next games,” he said softly before he could really think about it.

You hesitated. As much as you’d love to see him in action, you didn’t think you could bear to see him get hurt… Or worse. 

“You want me to watch you fight?” You asked, trying to keep the fear away from your expression. 

“I want you to see me win,” he said without a shred of doubt. “That way, you can be sure that no man can stop me from claiming my reward right after.”

You shuddered, biting down a giddy grin. “I’ll be there for you to find me, my champion.”

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[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

Hedy Lamarr (Samson and Delilah, Ziegfeld Girl)—Look. I'm sure someone has already submitted Hedy Lamarr because she was spectacularly beautiful, and a very strong lady too: she fled both an abusive marriage AND nazi persecution at a very young age and rebuilt a life for herself pursuing her love for acting all on her own!! Her career as an actress was stellar; while she began acting outside of Hollywood (her very first movie, Ecstasy, won a prize at the Venice Film Festival), she conquered American hearts very quickly with her first movie in the US, Algiers, and then just kept getting better and better. If all this isn't enough, she was also an inventor: her invention of the frequency-hopping spread spectrum radio transmission technique forms the base of bluetooth and has a lot of applications in all kinds of communication technologies. I think that deserves a prize, don't you?

This is the final poll of the Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

THIS POLL LASTS FOR 24 HOURS.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

"Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist."

Hedy Lamarr:

"The only person you can find both on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and in the Inventor's Hall of Fame--her radio-frequency-hopping technology forms the basis for cordless phones, wi-fi, and a dozen other aspects of modern life. She was also passionate in her efforts to aid the Allies in WWII (unsurprising for a Jewish-Austrian Emigree to America), and her name served as the backbone for one of the best running jokes in what is possibly Mel Brooks' best movie. Look, Louis B. Mayer apparently believed he could plausibly promote her as "The world's most beautiful woman". Is an entire website full of people going to be less audacious than one Louis B. Mayer? I didn't think so!"

"Described as "Hedy has the most incredible personal sophistication. She knows the peculiarly European art of being womanly; she knows what men want in a beautiful woman, what attracts them, and she forces herself to be these things. She has magnetism with warmth, something that neither Dietrich nor Garbo has managed to achieve" by Howard Sharpe, she managed to escape her controlling husband (and Nazi Germany) by a) Disguising as her maid and fleeing to Paris or b) Convincing the husband to let her wear all of her jewelry to a dinner, only to disappear afterwards. Also she was particularly clever and helped develop Frequency-Hopping Spread Spectrum (I can't really explain it but anyway...)"

"Her depiction of Delilah and Samson and Delilah just lives rent free in my head. The woman was gorgeous."

"One of the most beautiful women ever in film, spoken by many critics and fans. Beautiful shapely figure, deeper seductive voice, and often played femme fatale roles. She was also brilliant and an inventor. Mainly self-taught, she invested her spare time, including on set between takes, in designing and drafting inventions, which included an improved traffic stoplight and a tablet that would dissolve in water to create a flavored carbonated drink, and much more."

"Gorgeous and brilliant pioneer of modern technology and the middle part."

[yanderenightmare]

FEM x M INSERT masterlist

Fem reader x male insert

Yandere and other Kidnapping Tales ~

Yandere kidnapper takes your virginty:

♡ VIRGINITY

Yandere captor has too much libido:

♡ REMINDER

Thirsty thoughts on big yanderes x tiny darlings:

♡ GENTLE GIANT

Yandere kidnapper softly nonconning darling:

♡ soft noncon

Yanderes who keep you high as a kite:

♡ HIGH AS A KITE

Yandere captor using you as his pretty rope-bunny:

♡ ROPE-BUNNY

Yanderes who's obsessed with breeding:

♡ FORCED BREEDING

Yanderes who're obsessed with pet play:

♡ PET PLAY

Spending Valentine's Day with your incel kidnapper:

♡ HAPPY VALENTINES

Yandere kidnapper is a sexual sadist:

♡ RIBBED CONDOMS

Yandere captor staking claim to all your holes:

♡ STUFFED

Misogynist boyfriend keeps you captive:

♡ A SHITTY MOVIE

Strange Yandere keeps you locked inside his playroom:

♡ THE PLAYROOM

Your sweet boyfriend shows his true colors:

♡ TRUE COLORS

Your rich boyfriend buys you everything:

♡ PROPERTY

Poly yanderes with captive reader in apocolypse au:

♡ THE BUNKER ♡ STAYING

Witnessing your own mental state descend into Stockholm Syndrome:

♡ GONE MAD

Your trip-sitter isn't as trustworthy as you think:

♡ TRIP-SITTER

Awful nasty incel:

♡ drabble

The seven days of the week as yanderes:

♡ YANDERE DAYS

Boyfriends and Husbands~

Simpy boyfriend is unabashedly obsessed with your ass:

♡ ASS

Boyfriend is embarrassed:

♡ POST NUT CLARITY

Sweet boyfriend won't stop talking about anal:

♡ SECOND VIRGINITY

Snugglebug boyfriends who're just so clingy and hopeless:

♡ VIRGINAL

Your toxic boyfriend is a little old-fashioned-minded:

♡ BENEVOLENT SEXIST

Breaking up with you bad boyfriend:

♡ BAD BREAKUP

Condescending boyfriend:

♡ HOPELESS

Businessman x trophy wife:

♡ TASTE OF MONEY

Reformed bully boyfriend wants to roleplay the past:

♡ REFRAMING TRAUMA

You break up with your sorry-ass gamer boyfriend. He does not take it well:

♡ GAMER-RAGE

Rich husband owns everything you have:

♡ BARBIE

Sadistic and oversweet yandere boyfriend:

♡ PIECE OF CAKE

Incest and Pesudo-incest ~

Step-bro creeps on you:

♡ CREEP STEP-BRO

Step-daddy puts you in your place:

♡ TRAINING

Omegaverse and other Hybrid Tales ~

Pet collector buys bunny reader:

♡ BOUGHT & SOLD ♡ THE OTHER PETS

Beast boyfriend x human reader:

♡ INSTINCTS

Poly wolfboys x bunny reader:

♡ BUNNYHOLES ♡ GROOMING

You were certain you were an Alpha, but as it turns out...

♡ TWIST OF FATE

Hybrid bear yandere takes bunny darling captive:

♡ BUNNIES MAKE THE BEST SLUTS

You're sent to an omega institution for behavioral correcting:

♡ THE OMEGA INSTITUTION

Patronizing soft dom Alpha:

♡ OVERWHELMED

Behemoth dominant Omega x tiny Alpha reader:

♡ UNNATURAL ♡ part two

Alpha is dogshit at courting Omega reader:

♡ SWEATER WEATHER

You're a poor bunny hybrid sold off to an apex predator:

♡ PLAYBOY BUNNY ♡ CLIENTELE

Sword and Sorcery ~

Massive warrior claims you as his war prize:

♡ WAR PRIZE

Orc master loves making a cum-slut out of his pretty elf slave:

♡ ORC x ELF ♡ ORC x ELF

You become the spoiled prince's personal maid:

♡ FARM ANIMAL

Elf reader captured and gangbanged by orcs:

♡ THE PILLORY ♡ PART TWO

Cruel Emperor makes a harem out of all his bastard sons and daughters:

♡ HALFBLOODS

Set in medieval times, you get punished by the parish priest for gossiping:

♡ BRANK'S BRIDLE

Bullies and other College Tales ~

You let your bully fuck you in exchange for him leaving you alone:

♡ WORSE OFF

Your childhood bully tracks you down:

♡ APOLOGETIC BULLY only avaliable on AO3 ♡ PART TWO

When the playboy finally falls in love:

♡ PLAYBOY

Your strict teacher fucks your throat raw in detention:

♡ DETENTION

You're a popular airhead, and he's your loser tutor:

♡ BLIND TRUST

Teacher teaches you a hard lesson:

♡ HARD LESSON

Pretty reader x virgin loser boy:

♡ VIRGIN BOY

College boy struggles to acclimate to dorm life. Reader neighbour is not helping:

♡ LOOSE SCREWS

Boss-man and other Office Tales ~

Boss uses his assistant whenever he wants and however he wants:

♡ BOSS

The old-fashioned boss with intern reader:

♡ NEW INTERN

Colleague crushing on reader in office au:

♡ CUT TO THE CHASE

Loser colleague crushes on mean girl reader:

♡ ERRAND BOY

Miscellaneous ~

Reader owes the mob:

♡ PROPERTY

You're not cheap, but you're worth it:

♡ FAVORITE WHORE

You're not really a model, but the brash photographer doesn't care:

♡ PHOTOGRAPHER ♡ PART TWO

♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist