#but you know what i am i crave attention and affection

[stargirlbryce]

PSA: If you are depressed and/or suffer from a chronic illness for longer than a short amount of time,peole will grow tired of you and leave you. So you either have to fake being well or die of loneliness :)

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141... "tell me you need me" and/or " I don't want you to stop"

Okay. Okay okay okay okay. When I first read this prompt, I genuinely thought I would write something really sweet and soft. But I also have free will. I am an independent individual. I make the choices here. Are they sweet? Yes. Are they soft? A bit. Is this mostly spice? Yes. Yes it is. I will not ask forgiveness.

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, non-descriptive sex, praise, fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

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John Price

“Say it, love. I want to hear you say it.”

Everything in you is buzzing. It is loud, as if a hive of bees dwells beneath your skin. Each touch John gives you is electric. A zing of pleasure that rockets outward until the tips of your fingers and toes tingle.

“You don’t play fair,” you whine, sinking against him, surrendering to his touch.

“Never do,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.

You reach up to touch him, to hook your arm around the back of his neck. You need to anchor yourself before you fall over the edge. His fingers are expert things, moving in little circles between your legs. It is agony. And so very sweet.

John seizes your wrist. Brings your arm back to your side.

“No,” he says. “You can’t have that yet.”

“Why not?”

John’s lips brush against your throat. “Tell me you need me. Say it and I’ll give you what you want.” He lightly bites. “Promise.”

You swallow hard. The words are forming, but they are only air. Slipping away with each stroke of his fingers.

John pauses. And that sets you off instantly.

“I need you, John,” you gasp.

“That’s my girl.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle’s fingers thread lightly through your hair. It’s a gentle touch. One that sends a shiver through you.

Your hands roam, touching everywhere. There is skin beneath your fingers. It is taut, slick with water from the shower. Kyle is warm too like a good blanket. You could wrap yourself up in him.

Kyle returns to your hair, working in the shampoo. You close your eyes and sink into the feeling. He has one arm around your waist as if you’ll run off.

“Don’t stop,” you moan. “That feels good.”

Kyle’s soft laugh comes from behind you, and then he guides you under the spray, washing away the shampoo.

“Need to get the rest of you,” he purrs, those strong hands of his grasping your waist, spinning you around to face him. “Where should I start first?”

He traces one finger along your jaw and down the side of your throat only to descend to collarbone and the curve of your breast. He goes lower. Lower still.

You grasp his wrist, arching into his touch.

“Here?” he asks with a smug smile.

You’re needy. And his hand between your legs is bliss.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you reply.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Oh. Fu—fuck, love. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Johnny groans loudly above you, his head tilted back in ecstasy. Behind you, the television is on but the sound is muted. It bathes the bedroom in a blueish glow. Johnny isn’t paying attention, and you’re not either.

You are settled between his legs, your mouth full of him.

This is a craving. A vice. Johnny is always the one giving. He loves to do it. Loves to shower you with affection and as much pleasure as you can handle. But you have the control now. You’re the one making him squirm. Making him writhe and whimper.

It’s lovely this feeling. The power is perfect.

No wonder Johnny loves doing this so much.

He groans again, the arm next to his side, fist clenched. His other hand rises, and tentatively brushes against your scalp. Johnny’s eyes are closed. You’re not sure if he even knows what he’s doing.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, almost absently, as if speaking to the air.

You continue. Tasting.

His hand against your scalp strengthens, fingers tangling in your hair. His grip is fierce.

“Don’t stop,” he repeats. “Don’t want you to stop.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“That’s not what you say. You know this, love.”

Simon grasps your chin between thumb and forefinger. He squeezes slightly, tipping upward. You are unable to look away. Unable to move. Those dark eyes with pale eyelashes drive a spear through your heart every time.

It’s maddening.

You lick your lips and Simon follows the movement. He examines your mouth, and then his thumb brushes against the underside of your bottom lip. It sends a little shiver through you. Simon is powerful. Strong. He could easily break you, and yet he can be so gentle.

“I’m not gonna ask again.” Simon draws you closer and leans forward as if to kiss you. He doesn’t though, simply holds there, awaiting an answer.

He won’t give you what you’re seeking just yet. Not until you say the magic words.

“Tell me you need me,” he murmurs.

That is all Simon wants. To be desired. To be needed. He loves to hear it from your lips, especially like now when the two of you are tangled in each other. Other times, it’s simple things like reaching something on the top shelf.

And you will tell him.

You always do.

“I need you, Simon.”

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[tarotwithavi]

Their words during the act

18+ reading

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

This is a general reading so only take what resonates and leave the rest.

Pictures do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners. I only own the content of this post.

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＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 1

During the act, their words might reveal a sense of frustration or impatience at first. There’s an intensity in how they express themselves, almost like they’re trying to let go of control, unable to perfect every move or hold back what they're feeling. They may stumble with their words, flustered, saying things like "I can't wait any longer" showing a hunger that’s a bit unpolished but raw and real.

Then, as the moment deepens, the tone shifts. Their words start to soften, becoming more nurturing and sensual. You might hear them complimenting you, speaking about how much they desire you, calling you beautiful, irresistible, like they can't get enough. Their tone will be tender yet filled with admiration, like they are completely taken by you, worshiping your body and presence, expressing just how much you’re affecting them.

They may speak with a sense of excitement, almost playful, like they’re riding the waves of chance and pleasure. “This is so good,” or “You make me feel so good" they might say, hinting that they feel swept up in the unpredictability of the moment, like everything has aligned perfectly for this intense, thrilling experience. Their words would reflect how exhilarating and wild this is for them, like they’re surrendering to the heat of it all. Their words will become even more spontaneous, a mix of lust and sweet obsession. They might whisper things like "You’re everything I’ve ever wanted," their voice filled with both urgency and affection. Each word they say comes out between heavy breaths, showing how completely lost they are in you, almost as if they’re trying to express something they can’t fully put into words. Their hands and body language speak just as loudly, but the words , those hot, unguarded murmurs carry a sense of devotion and a craving for more. You can tell they’re hooked, every word dripping with desire and a hint of surrender to the intensity between you both. It’s like they’re on a ride they never want to get off, and they want to take you along for every twist and turn.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 2

Okay so the message I am getting is that their words will be sharp and clear, no hesitation or uncertainty. They'll know exactly what they want, expressing it with confidence. You’ll hear things like "You drive me wild" words that show they’ve been craving this for a while.

There will be a sense of admiration, like they’re captivated by your every move. Compliments will pour in, heartfelt and genuine. They might tell you how beautiful or irresistible you are, making you feel like you’re the center of their world, like nothing else exists but the two of you. At times, their words might change into a playful, almost innocent tone , teasing and sweet. They could whisper things like, "You make me feel things I can’t even explain," making you feel desired and special. But there's a deep, mysterious side to it too. Some of their words might catch you off guard, adding an element of intrigue. They'll play with your mind as much as your body, saying things that hint at deeper feelings or hidden desires, like "I’ve been thinking about this for so long" or "You’re all I dream about." They might confuse you for a second about what they actually want to say. Their words will come faster, breathless, almost like they can’t keep up with how much they want you. They'll be raw, direct, and filled with urgency "I need you right now," or "I can’t wait any longer." Everything will happen quickly, almost like they're overwhelmed by their own passion.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 3

Oh~~ this is the spiciest pile. Some of you might also want to read pile 1. For you guys they might start by teasing you with the idea that you are their world, saying things like, "I’ve been waiting for this moment… you have no idea how much you mean to me."

There's a sense of completeness, as if you are the missing piece they've been longing for. As things heat up, they might hesitate for a moment, teasingly asking "Do you want this? Show me." They’re testing the waters, wanting you to make the choice, but deep down, you both know you want the same thing.

Their words might be a blend of challenge and desire, encouraging you to match their energy, almost like a back-and-forth game. You’ll also hear a shift in tone, something more focused. Their words will be encouraging. They’ll want you to know they’re completely present, working with you, eager to build the heat higher, step by step.

You’ll also hear confidence in their voice, something that makes you feel secure and desired. "I know what you want… just let me take care of you." There’s a strong, steady vibe to their words, showing that they’re here to give you exactly what you need, with no rush , just deliberate, confident moves.

They may whisper something along the lines of, "Is this enough? Do you need more?" There's a brief flash of vulnerability, as if they want reassurance that this moment is as meaningful for you as it is for them. I see that they might have a fear of not being able to satisfy you the way you want. So they'll be ensuring that you feel good and comfortable.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[prosciuttulipa]

Period Pain, Go Away

how the JJK men help you through your period

content: afab reader x jjk men, just fluff this time! brief dirty joke in Toji's one (because he's Toji), but every one of them is a good boi in their own way <33

a/n: on my period and am in much pain v_v i can't decide who i want to comfort me, so i'm writing for all of the men i want

Gojo Satoru who isn't just your boyfriend during your period, but a "girl's girl". He wants to spoil you with desserts and eat the leftovers that you can't finish, do face masks with those cute cucumber slices over the eyes. You want a bath? He's already drawing one, dunking in bath bombs till the water looks like a small galaxy, putting on your comfort show so you can watch it while you soak.

Dealing with pain through fun and smiles has always been his way of coping. So, yes—maybe he does look a bit silly, gossiping with you while you paint sparkles onto his nails, his hair tied up with a pink scrunchie. But what's a boyfriend for, if not to be your Ken doll during your time of need?

It hurts him more than he likes to admit, to see you wince at a bad cramp, or come out of the bathroom with the colour drained from your cheeks. When you can't manage anything more than lying in your bed, he'll rest his head against your stomach, peppering kisses wherever it hurts. "Be good to my girl," he'll jokingly threaten your uterus, poking your tummy gently, "she deserves the world."

Geto Suguru who knows your period is coming before you do. Your irritable mood and food cravings clue him in, and he takes action without saying a single word.

The day your period starts, you realise that the feminine products you usually use have been fully restocked without your notice. The fridge is filled with your period cravings, enough to last a week. Before you can even say anything, a large hand wraps around your waist and presses a hot water bottle against your abdomen. "Good morning, princess," he greets you like he hasn't just pulled off what can only be described as a small miracle, "is everything to your liking?"

You don't know whether to laugh or cry at how perfectly he's predicted you. He's a step ahead of you throughout your entire period, knowing which snack or act of affection you want just by your expression. Some might call his behaviour unreasonable; frankly, he thinks it's bullshit. "Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer," is what he quotes, when you ask him why he's so observant. "What makes you think I do not absolutely and utterly worship you?"

Nanami Kento who is obviously written by a woman, and so does not flinch when he sees the blood on the bedsheets when he wakes up earlier than you. Instead, he kisses you good morning till you're giggling, distracting you so you don't get a chance to see the stains. He changes the sheets while you're in the bathroom, throwing them in with the rest of the laundry. When you come back out, worrying you dirtied the bed, he merely shrugs. "I didn't see anything, darling."

He treats you like a queen on the daily, but during your period, you're his empress. Each word is law, each action his cue to immediately come to your aid. He'll cook every meal, and won't let you hold the spoon to feed yourself if he can help it. As far as he can see, your only responsibility this week is to lounge around, and let him spoil you rotten.

He thinks it's a crime that you still have to go to work, when you have to pop painkillers with your breakfast just to make it through the day. "I can take care of you, you know," he'll inevitably murmur, kissing the shell of your ear, "I make enough money to support us both. Take the day off, dearest. They don't need you more than I do."

Toji Fushiguro who manages to piss you off on the first day of your period. "What size pussy you wear?" he calls to ask, when he's picking up your feminine products at the corner store, "gotta make sure I take care of that kitty for all the squeezin' she does on me."

When he gets back home and finishes getting an earful on how you're more than just his pocket pussy, he apologises by scooping you up in his arms. "You know you're more than just a good fuck, doll," his words carry a rare sort of honesty, coming from him. "You're a good woman. My woman. Gun's in the second drawer, sweetheart—shoot me if I ever do wrong by you."

His touches turn softer, the smack to your ass replaced with a squeeze on the hip, kisses on your shoulders. He's got a hand on you at all times, just rubbing idle circles against your stomach or lower back to soothe your cramps. When bedtime comes, he makes you lay on your tummy, massaging away the tension in your muscles until you're all nice and pliant. He may not always know what to say, but he'll be damned if his actions make you feel like he doesn't love you.

[rynwritesreid]

Take a ride| Spencer Reid

A/N: First of all, I hope that this is suitable compensation for everyone affected by my last fic. Second, my next non-requested smutty upload will be Sub! Spencer. And lastly, thank you so much for all the love guys, I am slowly working through your requests. Jag älskar dig 🫶🏼

Summary: You love to challenge authority, always knowing when to stop pushing buttons. However, you decide to see how far you can push Spencer before he gets angry enough to do something about it.

Content: Fem!Reader. Smut. Dom!Spencer Sub!Reader. Oral (both f & m receiving). Thigh humping. Fingering. Light bondage. Angry Spencer. Semi humiliation kink. Edging/overstimulation. Bratty reader. Power imbalance kink. 18+

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

Spencer knew what he was getting into when he started dating you.  You weren’t defiant, per se, you followed the rules but only when you thought necessary. You didn’t mind getting lectured by Hotch, in fact, Spencer thought it was something you enjoyed.

 

Spencer knew you would not be someone who would easily submit to anyone or anything. He knew you were going to be a challenge, he just underestimated how much of a challenge you were going to be.

 

It wasn't just your defiance that fascinated him; it was the way you effortlessly challenged authority without ever crossing the line. You had a knack for bending the rules while still managing to stay within their boundaries. It was as if you had an innate understanding of when to push back and when to surrender.

 

Even though you loved pushing Hotch’s and the FBI buttons, you loved pushing Spencer’s more. Normally you wouldn’t take it too far, just far enough where you knew you were in for a treat later on. Spencer would normally overstimulate you; he loved hearing you beg for forgiveness, saying sorry over and over again until all you could do was moan.

 

But you wanted to see how far you could take it with Spencer, what he would do. You decided to play it safe to start off with. Every time he spoke, you would roll your eyes. At first, he didn’t seem to acknowledge what you were doing, he would simply carry on talking. Though after about a day of doing this, he would glare at you.

 

But instead of discouraging you, his glare only fuelled the fire within you. You craved his attention, even if it meant pushing his limits. So, you intensified your defiance, not holding back anymore.

 

As Spencer continued to talk, you let out an exasperated sigh and crossed your arms, openly displaying your disinterest. The room fell silent, all eyes on you and Spencer. His glare intensified, a mix of frustration and intrigue evident in his eyes.

 

"Is there something you want to say?" he finally asked, his voice slightly strained.

 

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Oh, I'm sorry," you replied sarcastically. "I didn't realize I had to be interested in every little thing you have to say."

 

Spencer's jaw clenched as he fought to maintain his composure. He wasn't used to being challenged like this, especially not by someone he cared about. He didn’t say another word to you, he just took his eyes away and talked to the rest of your peers.

 

Once everyone had gone back to their desks, Spencer walked over to you. His eyes never leaving yours. “Roll your eyes one more time at me, and so help me God.” You could feel the tension in the air as Spencer stood before you, his voice low and controlled.

 

You knew you were starting to get to him, but you knew you could still take it further. “I thought you were an atheist, Spencer. Why are you asking God for help?” Even though your question was rhetorical, you asked it with a level of sincerity.

 

"Enough, Y/N," he growled, his voice full of warning. "You know exactly what I meant."

 

You could sense the shift in his demeanour, the underlying intensity that had been simmering beneath the surface. You had pushed him to his breaking point, and yet, you couldn't help but feel a strange surge of exhilaration coursing through your veins.

 

Spencer took a step closer, his proximity only heightening the charged atmosphere between you. The air crackled with unspoken desire and unyielding defiance. There was a part of you that wanted to relent, to submit to his authority, but another part revelled in the power play that unfolded before you.

 

"And what if I don't comply?" you challenged, your voice laced with defiance. "What will you do?"

 

He didn’t answer straightaway, so you answered for him. “Exactly, nothing. Maybe you should go back to your desk and get some work done before Hotch complains.”

 

Spencer's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and desire as he watched you, the challenge in your voice only serving to further ignite the fire within him. He could feel his control slipping, his usual calm and composed demeanour unravelling at the sheer audacity of your defiance.

 

With a calculated move, he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped to a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "You underestimate me, Y/N," he said, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. "But I assure you, I'm more than capable of making you comply."

 

He walked back to his desk, not allowing you to have the final word. You could see that you had rattled him, and that only fuelled your determination to push him further. You wanted to see how far he would go, how much control he was willing to relinquish.

 

For the rest of the day, you played it cool, focusing on your work and pretending as though nothing had happened between you and Spencer. You barely looked up at him, you wanted him to think he had won for now.

 

But as the hours ticked by, you could feel Spencer's eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin. You knew he was silently contemplating his next move, strategizing how to regain control over the situation. And you were eager to see what he had in store.

 

Finally, as the workday drew to a close, Spencer stood up from his desk and walked purposefully towards you. His steps were measured, his expression unreadable. When he reached you, he took hold of your arm firmly but gently, guiding you towards the exit.

 

"Where are we going?" you asked, feigning innocence even though you had an inkling of what Spencer had in mind.

 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t even look at you. “Spencer, where are we going? I wanted to go to Rossi’s tonight, he’s teaching us to make homemade linguini, remember?” He still remained silent though.

 

“Are you ignoring me? How mature Spencer.” Spencer's grip tightened on your arm as he led you outside, away from the prying eyes of your colleagues. The cool night air brushed against your skin, adding a layer of suspense to the already charged atmosphere between you.

 

"Enough, Y/N," he finally spoke, his voice laced with both frustration and desire. “You’ve being testing me all day. And I think it’s time someone reminded you who’s in charge here.”

 

“No one’s meant to be in charge in a relationship, but if you want, I can go grab Hotch, I mean he is the one in charge after all.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed, annoyance and irritation flashing across his face. He had reached his breaking point, his patience worn thin by your relentless defiance. Without a word, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, his grip firm and possessive.

 

"Enough games, Y/N," he growled, his voice dripping with authority. "You push me, you challenge me, but do not mistake it for a lack of control."

 

He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your ear as he whispered, "You want to play? Fine. But just remember, I always win."

 

“You don’t always win. I mean you haven’t won today. And what about Rossi’s?”

 

Spencer's gaze bore into yours, his intensity unwavering. "Rossi's can wait," he replied, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Right now, I'm going to remind you who's in charge."

 

He walked you over to his car, letting go of your arm so he could open your door, a gesture he always did, not matter how angry he was with you.

 

You slid into the passenger seat, still unable to hide the smirk playing on your lips. Spencer closed your door and made his way to the driver's side, taking a moment to compose himself before he started the engine.

 

As the car roared to life, the tension inside the vehicle matched the charged atmosphere between you. Spencer's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles turning white as he navigated the streets with a precision that mirrored his meticulous nature.

 

You decided to break the silence, you wanted to apologies to him, not because you were actually sorry but because you wanted him to think you were. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I was just bored today, and I thought it would be fun seeing how far I could take things. But I now realise that’s something I shouldn’t have done. So, I am truly and utterly sorry.” Your voice calm, but low, so it seemed like a real apology.

 

He remained silent, his eyes never leaving the road. “Spencer, please respond. I didn’t mean to anger you, I thought you would find it fun.”

 

“I don’t want to hear excuses, or fake apologies. You obviously need to learn a lesson.” Spencer's voice was cold, devoid of any hint of forgiveness or understanding. The atmosphere in the car became suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. You swallowed hard, feeling a twinge of unease crawl up your spine.

 

As Spencer continued to drive, the surroundings began to blur into a blur of streetlights and passing buildings. His steely gaze never wavered from the road ahead, his control unyielding and unwavering. It was as if he had transformed into someone else entirely, someone you had never seen before.

 

You glanced at him cautiously, trying to gauge his reaction. The anger in his eyes was still palpable, but there was something else there too—a hunger that made your breath hitch and your heart race. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, an electrifying current that left you both exhilarated and apprehensive.

 

"Spencer," you whispered tentatively, reaching out to touch his arm. Your fingers brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from it. But before you could say anything more, he abruptly pulled his arm away, his gaze still locked on the road ahead.

 

"Don't touch me," he snapped, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. The sharpness of his tone startled you, causing your hand to retract back to your side.

 

Once he had pulled up to his apartment, you didn’t wait for him to open your door, and simply jumped out and waited for him. As you stood outside his apartment, you could feel the tension between you and Spencer reach its peak. The air crackled with anticipation, each passing second heightening your desire for him. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, the culmination of your shared lust and pent-up frustration.

 

Spencer finally emerged from the car, his tall figure casting a shadow over you. He eyed you intently, his gaze burning with a mix of anger and longing. Without saying a word, he walked towards you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards the entrance of his building.

 

He pulled you up the stairs, not even letting go off you to open up his door. Once inside his apartment, Spencer slammed the door shut behind you, his eyes never leaving yours. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

 

“Spencer, I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to do?” Spencer's silence hung heavy in the air as he continued to hold your wrist tightly, his grip unyielding. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in around you, intensifying the sense of anticipation and unease. You watched as his eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of sincerity in your words.

 

His voice was low and gravelly as he finally spoke, his tone laced with a mix of frustration and desire. "Sorry isn't enough, Y/N. Words won't be sufficient to teach you the lesson you so desperately need."

 

He paused for a second, trying to come up with a good enough punishment. “The only way you’re getting off tonight, is my thigh.”

 

"Are you serious?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The intensity in his eyes was enough to confirm that this was no idle threat. He meant every word.

 

“I am very serious. Remember, you did this to yourself. If anything, I’m going too easy on you. Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum for the rest of the week, or make sure you struggle to walk for the next few days.”

 

You gasped, the gravity of his words sinking in. As much as his punishment excited you, it also stirred a deep sense of vulnerability within you.

 

"Spencer, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and apprehension. "I didn't mean to push you this far. I just wanted... I just wanted to feel your control."

 

A flicker of understanding flashed across his eyes, but he remained resolute. "Control is not something to be taken lightly, Y/N," he said sternly. "It is earned and respected. And tonight, you will learn exactly what it means to surrender."

 

He led you to the living room, fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, every second stretching out into eternity as you waited for his command.

 

"Undress," he ordered, his voice firm. A small part of you wanted to tell him that if he wants to see you naked, then he should undress you himself. But you knew then that would be pushing it a little too far.

 

He stood still, watching you as you unbuttoned your blouse, revealing a light blue lace bra. His eyes scanning your body, his tongue licking his lips. He looked at you as if you were prey. As you moved onto your trousers, his eyes followed. It was almost humiliating. He was staying fully dressed, while watching you undress yourself for him.

 

Your heart raced as you slid your trousers down your legs, feeling exposed under his unwavering gaze. "You look beautiful," Spencer murmured, his voice low and husky. His eyes continued to roam over your body, taking in every curve and dip, fuelling a fire deep within you. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his words, even though you knew it was merely a precursor to the punishment that awaited you.

 

“But when I said undress, I meant fully.” His voice had gone back to being cold.

 

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain of whether you were ready to bare yourself completely. The room grew colder as you stood there, shivering slightly under his gaze. With a deep breath, you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it slide down your arms and dropping it to the floor.

 

Spencer's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and dominance as he watched you undress. The air crackled with tension, the anticipation thickening with each passing moment. You kicked off your panties, finally standing before him completely exposed and vulnerable.

 

You watched as he walked over to his sofa. He sat himself down and open his legs slightly. He patted his thigh, as if he were asking you to sit on it for him.

 

Taking a step forward, you approached him with a mixture of trepidation and longing. You felt the cool air brush against your bare skin, heightening your senses. With each fleeting moment, the anticipation grew, electrifying the atmosphere.

 

You positioned yourself in front of Spencer, his thigh invitingly raised and awaiting your compliance. Slowly, you straddled him, feeling the heat of his body radiating through his clothes. The contact sent a wave of electricity coursing through your veins, causing you to inhale sharply.

 

Spencer's hands found their way to your hips, gripping them firmly as he guided you onto his thigh. The pressure against your core was immediate, eliciting a soft moan from deep within your throat. The friction of his thigh against your sensitive flesh sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making it difficult to suppress the moans that threatened to escape your lips.

 

"Ride my thigh, Y/N," he growled, his voice laced with a raw hunger that sent shivers down your spine. "Show me how badly you want to be controlled."

 

Spencer's hands tightened their grip on your hips, guiding your movements with precision. Each motion sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, building the tight coil of desire within you. The room filled with the sound of your moans, mingling with Spencer's low groans of pleasure.

 

As you rode his thigh, the intensity of the moment consumed you. The room fell away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of desire and control. Spencer's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements with expert precision.

 

“Is this all it takes for you to actually listen to me? You just want to cum huh?” He chuckled.

 

You only seemed to be able to nod your head, the only thing leaving your mouth were moans. “Maybe I should have asked you to grind against my shoes instead, you seem to be enjoying this too much.”

 

Your body trembled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation as Spencer's words sank in. The thought of grinding against his shoes sent a surge of excitement through you, despite the humiliation it would bring. You were at his mercy, completely under his control, and you craved more.

 

Spencer's grip on your hips tightened as he felt your body tense with desire. A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips, reflecting the dominance that radiated from him. With a sudden surge of confidence, he released your hips and reached down to unbutton his pants. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the room as he unzipped his fly, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers.

 

You watched with hungry eyes as Spencer's erection sprang free, standing proudly before you. A shiver ran down your spine as desire pooled between your thighs, the ache for release growing stronger by the second. The anticipation was palpable, hanging thickly in the air like an intoxicating fog.

 

"Get on your knees," Spencer commanded, his voice low and commanding. You obeyed without hesitation, the need to please him overpowering any remnants of resistance. Your knees sank into the plush carpet, bringing you eye level with his throbbing length.

 

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you took him in your hands, stroking his length firmly. A groan escaped from Spencer's lips; his head tilted back in pleasure. The power dynamic between you had shifted completely, and you revelled in the sense of control you now held.

 

With every stroke, Spencer grew harder in your grasp, his desire evident in the way he gripped onto the edge of the sofa. You marvelled at the way he responded to your touch, relishing in the way his body reacted to your every movement.

 

You leaned in closer, flicking your tongue against the sensitive tip of his cock. Spencer's breath hitched, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest. He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding you as you took him further into your mouth.

 

Your lips wrapped around him, the taste of his desire lingering on your tongue. You reveled in the power you held over him, eager to please and satisfy his every need. Your tongue glided along his length, tracing the veins that pulsed with his desire. Spencer's grip on your hair tightened, his hips canting forward, urging you to take him deeper.

 

The intensity of the moment consumed you as you surrendered completely to him. Each thrust of his hips brought you closer to the edge, your own desire building with every flicker of your tongue against his sensitive flesh. Your senses heightened, the sound of his moans filling the room, mingling with your own pleasure-filled gasps.

 

Spencer's control wavered as he neared the precipice of release. His grip on your hair became tighter, guiding you with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. The powerful waves of pleasure coursed through him, radiating from every inch of his being.

 

As Spencer's release neared, you could feel the tension in his body intensify. His breaths became ragged and irregular, and you could sense that he was on the verge of losing his grip on control. With a final, desperate thrust, he released himself into your mouth.

 

You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste of him as his essence filled your senses. The primal satisfaction that filled the room was overwhelming, leaving you both breathless and intoxicated with desire.

 

Spencer collapsed back onto the sofa, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You rose from your knees, licking your lips and savouring the lingering taste of him on your tongue.

 

Spencer knew he wasn’t done with you yet; he knew this wasn’t a proper punishment. Spencer's eyes burned with a renewed determination as he met your gaze. Despite the intense pleasure that still lingered within you, there was a hunger for more, an unquenchable longing that pulsed through your veins.

 

"Get on the bed," he commanded, his voice low and commanding. The room seemed to dim around you, shadows dancing against the walls, as you obeyed his command.

 

The bed beckoned you, its soft sheets invitingly cool against your heated skin. You climbed onto it, positioning yourself on all fours, ready and exposed for whatever Spencer had in mind.

 

Spencer stood up from the sofa, his eyes fixed on your vulnerable form on the bed. He moved towards you slowly, the anticipation building with each step. As he reached the edge of the bed, he trailed a finger lightly along your spine.

 

He reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a length of silk rope, his eyes never leaving yours. With a swift motion, he secured your wrists together, binding them tightly but not painfully. You tested the restraints instinctively, feeling the rush of helplessness mingling with arousal.

 

With your wrists secured, Spencer moved to the foot of the bed, his gaze darkening with a predatory hunger. He wasted no time, his hands trailing up your legs, skimming over the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. A shiver ran through you, anticipation coiling tightly in your core.

 

His touch was teasing, tormenting, as he neared the apex of your thighs. His fingers danced along the edges of your arousal, but never fully delved into it. It was a maddeningly slow torture that left you trembling with need.

 

"Please," you whispered, unable to contain the desperation in your voice. The ache within you was unbearable, the longing for release. Spencer's lips curled into a devilish smile, relishing in the power he held over you. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Patience, my love. I deserve patience after the stunts you pulled today.”

 

His fingers continued their torturous dance along your inner thighs, inching closer to your throbbing core. Every brush of his fingertips ignited a fire within you, intensifying the ache for release. Your body quivered with need, yearning for his touch to finally grant you the satisfaction you craved.

 

Finally, Spencer's fingers made contact with your slick folds, teasingly skimming against your sensitive entrance. A gasp escaped your lips as he dipped a single finger inside, drawing out a slow, deliberate stroke that had you arching your back in sheer ecstasy. Each movement was precise, calculated to push you closer to the edge without granting you the climax you so desperately sought.

 

"More," you begged, your voice filled with a desperation that matched the wildfire burning within you. Spencer's eyes gleamed with delight at your plea, relishing in the power he held over your pleasure.

 

With a wicked smile, he added another finger, curling them inside you expertly, hitting that spot that made your entire body quiver with every stroke. The intensity of the pleasure built rapidly, transcending everything else in the room. Your moans filled the air, mingling with the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of you.

 

But just as you were on the precipice of release, Spencer pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping and reaching for something to cling onto. The sudden emptiness made you whimper with frustration. Spencer's eyes held an intoxicating mix of dominance and satisfaction as he watched you squirm on the bed.

 

"You don't get to come yet," he murmured huskily. "Not until I've had my fill." Spencer's words hung in the air, teasing, and taunting you. Every fibber of your being throbbed with desire, yearning for release. The hunger in his eyes reflected your own as he positioned himself between your spread legs.

 

Lowering his head, Spencer's hot breath fanned across your sensitive flesh. His lips brushed against your inner thighs, peppering soft kisses along the way, deliberately avoiding the centre of your need. The anticipation was agonizing, a delicious torment that made your body ache for his touch.

 

Finally, his tongue flicked out and traced a slow circle around your swollen clit. A gasp escaped your lips as pleasure surged through you. He continued to tease, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks that had you writhing beneath him.

 

Each flicker of his tongue against your most intimate place intensified the fire within you. Your hips rocked instinctively, seeking more friction, more pleasure. But Spencer held firm control over your pleasure, denying you the release you so desperately craved. He continued his torturous ministrations, never relenting, never granting you the satisfaction of that mind-numbing climax.

 

Your body trembled with every stroke of his tongue, your need escalating to a maddening frenzy. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans, your pleas mixed with the wet sounds of his mouth on your throbbing core. The tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, threatening to shatter your sanity.

 

Spencer's hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger. You were at his mercy, surrendering yourself completely to his touch. The pulsating waves of pleasure radiated through every fibber of your being, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

 

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, when the ache for release became unbearable, Spencer pulled away.

 

Your whole body cried out in protest at the sudden absence of his touch. You whimpered, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Spencer's dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you, revelling in the control he had over your pleasure.

 

"Please," you begged, your voice dripping with need. "I need to cum."

 

Spencer's lips curled into a wicked smile, knowing full well the power he held over your satisfaction. He crawled up the bed, positioning himself over you, his hard length brushing against your thigh. The hunger in his eyes was palpable as he captured your gaze.

 

"Oh, my love," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "I'm not done with you yet. I want to watch you unravel completely."

 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, desire pooling between your legs once again. Spencer grasped your wrists, releasing them from their restraints, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

 

With a swift motion, Spencer positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his throbbing length. The anticipation was maddening, the need for him to fill you overwhelming every inch of your being. You let out a soft whimper, begging him to take you, to quell the ache that consumed you.

 

But Spencer relished in your desperation, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a hunger that matched your own. It was a battle of dominance and surrender as your tongues danced and clashed, melding together in a frenzied embrace.

 

When he finally pulled away, his lips trailed down your neck, peppering heated kisses along the curve of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. As his teeth grazed along the sensitive flesh, a bolt of pleasure shot through you, electrifying every nerve ending.

 

With agonizing slowness, Spencer entered you, his hard length filling you inch by inch. You gasped at the delicious stretch, the feeling of him stretching you to your limits. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, a mix of pain and ecstasy that had your body arching off the bed in pure bliss.

 

He began to move within you, his thrusts slow and deliberate. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, intensifying the ache for release that had been building within you for so long. Your fingers clenched against the silk restraints, the sensation of being bound adding an extra layer of arousal.

 

Spencer's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, hitting that spot deep inside you with every powerful stroke. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, mingling with your moans and gasps.

 

Your senses were completely consumed by the pleasure, nothing else existing except for the connection between you and Spencer. His gaze locked with yours, his eyes filled with an intensity that matched the blaze within you. Every movement, every thrust, carried you further and further into a state of raw ecstasy. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of desire.

 

As Spencer's rhythm became more erratic, your body responded in kind, meeting his every movement with unyielding fervour. The bed rocked beneath you, a symphony of creaks and moans echoing through the room. Sweat glistened on your skin, the scent of desire mingling with the air.

 

Time lost all meaning as pleasure coiled tightly within you, ready to unravel at any moment. The fire burned within your core, threatening to consume you whole. Spencer's fingers dug into your hips, his grip possessive yet exhilarating.

 

With one final thrust, the dam broke.

 

An explosion of sensation ripped through your body as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails dug into his skin. He quickly followed you, releasing his seed deep in you.

 

He pulled out and had a look a triumph plastered across his face. “I think we should probably get ready to leave now, huh?”

 

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[saintobio]

as you like it (sequel to romeo ♱ juliet)

↳ gojo satoru/reader

bound by the dictates of the prophecy, the emperor contemplates whether retaining his wife or severing ties with her may be the sole path to fulfill his ambitions. yet, what he may fail to discern, is that the plague in his reign lies beyond what meets the eye

♱ genre. tragedy, revenge, period piece, renaissance au

♱ tags. 26k wc, extremely ooc, tyranny, emperor!gojo, empress!reader, (you will hate the reader!), unrequited love, religion (especially catholicism), blasphemy, mentions of infidelity, violence, war, rebellion, misogyny, impregnation, smut, disease, gore, death, arson, and written in early modern english/archaic english

♱ notes. heavily inspired by anne boleyn's real-life story, and manhwas sister, i am the queen in this life and ten ways to get dumped by a tyrant, as well as shakespeare’s king henry V. direct quotes also derived from the movie the king. has no correlation to the original as you like it play except for the title, as i wanted a title to my r+j sequel that's still shakespeare-inspired :) feedbacks are highly appreciated :')

masterlist. playlist. gallery. archaic grammar index.

EARLY MODERN ENGLISH -> MODERN ENGLISH VERSION

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐄.

SATORU, Emperor of Caelum.

YOU, of the same order.

SUGURU, knight commander of the Imperial Order of Knights.

TOJI, Emperor of Astheryn.

NAOYA, a duke, cousin to Toji.

GENEVA, nurse to the empress.

MAXIMILIAN, advisor to the Caelan Emperor.

NANAMI, a nobleman. 

The Pope.

FRIAR MYCHAL, a Franciscan.

YUUTA, cousin to Satoru, exiled

A maid. 

A physician.

The Oracle. 

Citizens of Astheryn and Caelum; kinsfolk of both empires; the Imperial Court, Nobles, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 

In a vast empire's might, an Emperor reigned,

Duty's veil his heart restrained.

Beside him, an Empress fair did stand,

Her love unmet, her heart unmanned.

Cold and still, his heart did lie;

Untouch’d by love's gentle sigh.

The Empress long’d for his affection true,

Yet his love remain’d a distant hue.

In shadows deep, her love did pine,

Bound by duty's rigid line.

As seasons passed, her love turned to ire,

A flower of vengeance, fuel’d by fire.

Now as our tale begins we see,

How love and duty bring us forth to tragedy.

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

THE LATE 15TH CENTURY

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

Only slightly did you loosen up as the sequence of your steps were taken in slow but measured strides. Each footfall had a rhythm that was neither lacking in confidence nor hesitance, with your heels clicking on the marble floors and the sound of it echoing along the spacious hallway as if to remind every person within the vicinity that the Empress was arriving. You held your breath much to the tightness of your corset and tried to keep your emotions intact, taking a halt from walking knowing that your ladies-in-waiting were tailing you closely behind.

Two valiant knights stood by his door, offering a curtsy to their Empress the minute you had crossed their eyes. A knock on the door followed. Then, soon enough, you were granted a step forward inside your husband’s study. 

There he was, ensconced behind his desk amid copious piles of paperwork, his attention undivided by the woman who graced his study with her presence. His locks, reminiscent of Arctic snow, were meticulously arranged, accentuated by the resplendent black doublet he donned, adorned with intricate silver patterns upon the brocade cloth. His eyes, as blue as the sky and oceans alike, declined to meet the gaze of his own wife. 

“For what purpose art thou come?” he uttered.

Meanwhile, you made a swift curtsy and motioned for the attendants and knights to depart away, leaving the two of you alone. “I crave a word with thee, Your Majesty.”

His countenance appeared to congeal as he fixed his gaze upon you for several uncomfortable moments. "Of what matter?"

“Concerning the New Year's banquet, dear husband. It draweth nigh in a fortnight, and arrangements must be set in motion.” You stood squarely afore him, hands entwined afore you. A regal presence. A queenly figure, fashioned precisely to his desires. Such was the image the empire had embraced since your ascension to the throne. Before him stood the epitome of grace suited to that role. “Pray, what theme dost Your Majesty propose?” 

He closed the ledger he had been inscribing on, scrutinizing your features intently. “I harbor little fondness for such gatherings, yet the banquet is a necessary evil.” His gaze shifted towards your gown, meticulously crafted to complement your form, adorned with the same elaborate embroidery as his own attire, accented by a sizable silver cross adorning your neck like the good Christian you were. “The citizens already begin to take note of our opulence; thus, I eschew an excessiveness that may draw undue attention. Let it be lavish enough to suit our status, yet not overly extravagant. As for the theme, it ought to be black and silver to match our regalia.”

The Caelum regalia, once bedecked in innocent hues of white and blue, underwent a somber transformation to black and silver upon his ascension to the throne. Behind this alteration lay a tragic tale. Satoru, the man whom you addressed as husband, had first borne the title of Crown Prince before ascending to the imperial seat. His younger sister, the infamous maiden who met her demise alongside her lover, was bound to an ill-fated romance that purportedly quelled an age-old enmity between two ancestral foes.

The forbidden romance betwixt a scion of a Zen'in and a scioness of a Gojou, both of princely lineage, ignited strife between the Astheryn and Caelum Empires. With half a century of animosity between these bloodlines, a lust for supremacy, and an unyielding clash between nations, the discord erupted into a civil strife, ceasing solely with the ratification of a peace accord signed by the sovereigns of both empires.

Yet before all these tumultuous events unfolded, Satoru's ascent to the highest throne owed much to you. Though you were not his intended betrothed, you were a lady deeply enamored with the prince; with whom he divulged myriad fervent nights with. As the daughter of a duke whose lineage boasted mastery in the craft of forging fine swords and weaponry, and so well-versed in the art of warfare, he saw you fit to stand as his empress, prepared to reciprocate your erstwhile unrequited love through means of marriage. Howbeit, this accord came at the cost of you aiding him in his quest to unseat both his father and mother from their thrones. He loathed his parents just as strongly as he did Astheryn. The rulers preceding him were despotic tyrants, showing scant regard for kinship ties, and they exhibited no sorrow for the passing of the princess, which was a loss deeply felt by Satoru.

Satoru carried ambitions of ascending to the august throne of Caelum from a tender age, unwilling to await the natural demise of his father for ascension and instead, do it by means of force. He was prepared to imbrue his hands with his own kindred’s blood to sit at the highest throne, yet such a feat was no trifling matter. The civil unrest presented the opportune moment to execute his plans, spurred on all the more by his sister's untimely demise. With your military affiliations and strategic acumen, you aided him in orchestrating a coup d'état against his own kin. Ending it all with him, severing his father’s head with a sword, and you, killing his mother with a dose of poison. His other oppositions followed, and those who did not support his cause were offered a swift journey to hell through mass execution. Throughout these macabre events, you stood steadfast by his side, currying favor with the surviving nobility to fortify his position as emperor. Identifying traitors, you presented them for his judgment. In due course, you became his most trusted confidante, the sole woman deemed worthy to stand beside him on the day of his coronation, heralding the dawn of a new era for the empire. Thus, a new nation, a new sovereignty, and a new regalia were born.

“As thou wish, my liege.” With careful steps, you navigated his study, casting an appraising gaze upon the books lining his shelves before pausing behind him. He ought to discern that the banquet did not solely occupy your intentions that day. “Prithee, burden not thyself with all this paperwork.” Your lips brushed his ear. “Instead, shall I expect thee in my bedchamber this eve?” 

He tensed, drawing a deep breath to temper his emotions. You always seemed to know how to push his buttons—in good and bad ways. You played him like a fiddle as always. Indeed, he was well aware that your desires surpassed the scope of mere banquet arrangements. “Very well.”

The distant gaze he cast upon you pierced deeply. Eight long years of matrimony, and only now did he begin to exhibit such aloofness. Only now did such estrangement manifest. What sudden shift had befallen this marriage? You were not privy to the answer, yet you strived to deny it. Natheless, for the sake of your peace of mind, did you venture forth with your inquiry. “My liege, I wilt be so bold as to believe that thou dost not carry grudge against me.” Your eyes remained fixed upon his saintly face. “Do I speak true? For my failure to conceive the last time we—”

“‘Tis useless to harbor grudge over matters beyond control.” Displeasure thinned his lips. “What gain have I, to chastise thee merely because thou art barren?”

Pained by his words, you stepped away, quietly but firmly asserting, “...I am not barren.”

“Thou hast failed to conceive after eight years; to mine eyes, that qualifies as being barren.” He flipped back to the page he was perusing, resuming his writing.

Any trace of happiness that once adorned your mien now dissipated, and was replaced by the shadows of his cutting words. “Then, what plan shall thou construct if I fail to bear fruit?”

Satoru halted in his writing, his quill suspended in the air. He closed his eyes as he spoke, “Should thou not conceive in the foreseeable future, I am left with no alternative but to initiate a divorce. No matter the cost.”

Your eyes widened at his decision, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of his words settled upon you. His words seemed rehearsed, so well-thought of, as though he had expected this day to come and heretofore looked forward to informing you of this very plan. You failed to catch his reasoning, but succeeded at bearing the pain it had burdened you with. What had driven him to this conclusion? Certainly, a mere heir would not lead him to this ultimatum. 

“A concubine, then, doth thou suggest so?” Firm and resolute in your stance was how you received his proposal. 

The emperor averted his gaze, allowing silence to stand as your response for several minutes until he finally articulated a considerate reply. “Mine heir cannot be born a bastard, and so concubines shall only complicate matters. I have no plans in that department.” You sensed the direction of his thoughts, and you dreaded his continuation. “Rather, I beseech thee to abdicate thy throne, and I shall remarry another lady, be it of royal or imperial lineage, to bear the heir of this empire. It is the sole fitting course of action. That which, a divorce shall become necessary.”

“Step down from my throne?” Your voice quavered, laced with disbelief and anguish. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “Thou would cast me aside, discard me like a worn-out garment in your mistemper’d fit, for the sake of an heir? After everything I have done for thee.” Your words echoed in the chamber, each syllable heavy with the betrayal you felt.

Your heart, once brimming with devotion, now lay shattered at your feet. All your life, you have loved him. All your happiness and tears, you have devoted to him. You had stood by his side through every trial, every conquest, only to be deemed unworthy of bearing his legacy. The sting of rejection seared your soul, igniting a fierce resolve within your wounded spirit. Yet nothing was his response. No words of comfort did he return for your wifely agony. 

With a voice trembling through a mixture of sorrow and defiance, you met his gaze. “Fair enough,” you whispered, your tone laden with a sorrowful resignation. “If it is a concubine thou seek, then so be it. But a divorce, will I not honor. And know this, my lord,” you declared, your voice rising with a newfound strength, “I am the Empress. The only one. There is none within this empire akin to me, for a worthless, lowly concubine shalt not depose this Empress Y/N of Caleum thou wouldst so readily compromise.”

And in that solemn proclamation, you turned away, your stolid mien masking the shattered pieces of your fractured heart. 

His countenance remained stoic as he observed your departure, sighing inwardly as you exited his study. Although no longer offering a response, he found himself unable to deny the truth of your words. Nor the power in which you presented them. Your presence lingered in his thoughts, holding sway over him in a manner he could not fathom. 

As expected, you were epitome of a powerful empress just like what his mother once was and there ought to be a lot more convincing for you to step down from your post. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

“If the oracle speaks true, then I fear, my lord, that this empire is destined to fall.”

It was late in the night, though the castle still brimmed with light from the torches adorning the halls. Most servants had retired to bed by this hour, barring the guards stationed at key areas of the castle. Meanwhile, the emperor remained awake, engaged in discussions concerning the fate of his sovereign. A predestined fate that could only be avoided should he make the effort to fulfill the conditions of the prophecy. 

Standing discreetly before him was Lord Maximillian, his advisor—a man who had witnessed his growth from juvenile years to the present moment. He had come to offer the emperor the much-needed counsel regarding the pressing matter at hand.

“Max, what say thee? Discuss unto me; dost thou deem me incapable?” The man of higher power questioned. “I have conversed with the Empress regarding the divorce. I have set forth the framework of my scheme should she falter in birthing my heir. I have articulated it in a manner that renders it just in her eyes. Yet, she reacts with such intensity. And loves so ardently. Ah! Women. Such vile, defiant women art the problem! A termagant—that, she is. For many years, I have afforded her the benefit of the doubt. Her mind is too ambitious for her own right. I know not how to proceed with her any longer. The prophecy dictates that I must have an heir.”

The old man returned him a soulless look. “If thou take the matter otherwise than is meant, then may I suggest that Your Majesty dispose of her.”

“Dispose?” he queried, as though he had misheard. “Her? My wife? Thou see it best to dispose of her?”

“Ay, I think it be. In the same fashion as your sire and dame,” Maximillian asserted, drawing a deep breath. “Prithee, do not misconstrue my intent as treason. My loyalty lies in thee, my liege. I stand by thee. I seek naught but the best for thee, for this empire hath not seen better days until thy sovereignty.”

Silence enveloped the air. Satoru took a moment to gaze at his elongating shadow, gradually shaping itself as he moved farther from the candlelight. In the darkness, his shadow morphed into a menacing silhouette, a specter lurking in the darkness was what had become of him. To become a tyrant was never his intention nor the promise he made to his departed sister, who yearned for Satoru to embody fairness and strength in rulership. And to be an emperor for the people. She had strived for peace among nations, yet here her brother stood, mirroring the oppressive parental figures he had overthrown. What allure did power hold over him? What such force could sway him now to forsake the very individual who had displayed unwavering marital devotion towards him?

“Hast thou been in correspondence with the King of Ellesmere?” inquired the Emperor. “Is it not so that his daughter, the princess, was to wed the late Prince of Astheryn? That prince was the very son of that wretch. That despot. That Emperor Toji II of Astheryn, my foremost enemy. What hath become of that princess, dost thou know?”

Maximillian stared at him intently. “Eight years and a vicennium ripe, yet still an unmarried maiden is the fair Princess Katarina. Is it her hand that Your Majesty seeks?”

“I shall speak my mind as the emperor, so I say this: ‘tis merely her status that makes of her the sole eligible woman to be my wife and empress of this empire.” His decision was wrought with hesitation yet born out of necessity. “Yet for the nonce, she cannot be seated until Y/N hath been dethroned. My decision shall hinge upon whether my wife shall be able to bear my heir anon. Elsewise, I shall dispose of her.”

His advisor sent him a look of approval. “‘Tis a decision that can only originate in thee, my lord. God be with ‘ye.” 

“If that be all, then give leave awhile.” The emperor paused at the western part of the castle, a nigh away from the corridors leading to his wife’s bedchamber. “I do beseech thee to be my herald on the morrow. Write to the King of Ellesmere briefly and concisely. Ere thou falsely honor a new empress, the long hours of my night are to be spent with the woman presently seated upon the throne.”

Eventually, Satoru reached your chambers and noticed that a few candles had been lit, their warm light illuminating the room softly. In the solitude in which you found yourself, seated by the bed and bathed in moonlight, silent in such serenity he hoped not to disturb. The fabric of your nightgown, thin and delicate, revealed the contours of your womanly figure beneath. He, too, was clad in a thin robe that left little to the imagination. 

As you turned to face him, you caught sight of the faint scars and marks from countless battles etched across his body, though his expression remained mostly neutral as it always had and you were unbeknownst to the profanity he had spoken of you a few minutes hence. Now, his electric blue eyes looked at you with careful scrutiny, pondering whether this sensual encounter would all be in vain or if you truly intended to fulfill your role and bear an heir this time.

“How stands the hour?” You spoke softly, approaching him with a sad glint in your eyes. “I have waited.”

“Pardon. Urgent matters call’d upon me.” Satoru could see the sadness in your eyes, but he tried his best to ignore it. You are barren, and there is little he can do to change that. He should begin his newfound task to detach from you. You brought him no good. You offered him no better fate. You were no longer instrumental for him to attain his long-standing ambition. Nevertheless, with your genuinely loving eyes he found himself conflicted, and that showed in his facial expressions. His brow knit, and he parted his lips as if to speak before hesitating and closing them again. You sensed his inclination to make you feel miserable, to render you desolate, yet he could not muster the resolve to articulate such words. Thus, he remained silent.

While you, you stood perfectly still. Like a porcelain doll displayed as a mere decoration. You wanted nothing but to give him his manly satisfaction that night, hoping that your marriage could still work and that he would not need the betrothal of another lady to carry him an heir. With delicate hands, you let the nightgown slip away, falling beneath your feet as the cold air caressed your naked form. This body. All of it belonged to him. “My lord.” You kept your eyes on him. And he, on your shapely bosom. “Please do with me as thou wish.”

Satoru’s eyes darkened as he stared at you, his voice taking a commanding tone to match his expression. “Turn around.”

You did as ordered. As obediently, as submissively. Like a servant serving her master. Yet, beneath this guise of obedience lay a deeper yearning—to vie for his love once more, and to affirm, if only for one last time, that his words this morn were but a fleeting outburst of heightened emotions.

“Thou art fair, indeed,” whispered he. ‘Tis a shame that you fall short in one aspect.

He walked behind you, enfolding you in his muscular arm, ensnaring you in his robust grasp as his fingers traced a path down your back. You could feel the contours of his toned abs pressed against your back, while he explored the dips and curves of your body with his touch, squeezing the soft mounds on your chest. He then leaned his forehead against your neck, trailing tender kisses along your spine. 

The passionate night continued with the both of you taking turns in granting each other pleasure. The kisses around your neck, his tongue in between your folds, your hand wrapped around his well-endowed member. And before you know it, he was entering you from behind, penetrating the depths of your cavern in pursuit of reaching his high. His grasp on your hips tightened with each thrust, rendering your knees weak as you remained on all fours.

Your intimate session lasted for a while, as he was not satisfied enough at having only one release for the night. He jostled you from the back, to the side, and to the front. All of which left you with the warmth of his seed seeping out of your entrance, and subsequently down your thighs. 

If only he did not let his mind speak, you could have deluded yourself that this night was his declaration of utmost love for you. 

“I shall leave thee if an heir dost not soon grant me, do we share this understanding?” Satoru did not sleep as he looked at you, his thoughts running rampant as he questioned whether or not he was being too cruel. His heart skipped a beat as he saw a second of your tears, tears that you so rightfully held back, and he was at a loss of words for once. He knew that he needed to stay firm on his decision, but seeing you on the verge of breaking down... it struck guilt in him. Satoru’s face softened, his tone becoming more calm and less forceful. Subconsciously did he do his best to comfort you. “It disheartens me that it hath come to this. Though I speak it to thee, I have duties to fulfill as emperor.” 

You could not answer immediately and tried to bear the sting it brought to your heart. “How now, didst so suddenly thou find it easy to cast me aside? Wherefore, is it another lady on thy mind?”

“That’s not so.” His guilt was knocking at the door, but he tried to pay it no mind. “This empire requires an heir and thou have failed me.”

“Blame the lack of children on thyself, perchance.” You bit back as your chest rose and fell from heavy breaths. “So infrequently did mine own husband warm my bed as though I am unwed. Blame it, then, on the distance thou have set upon us! A child cannot be born if not be made.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed at your words. “And dost thou suggest we consummate every minute and every second of the day?” A scoff left his lips. “Eight years, I have given thee.” 

“And yet, for eight years, thou hast not learn’d to love me.”

Your gaze remained fixed, each word hanging heavily in the air, as the weight of your shared history and unresolved emotions loomed between the two of you. It was as though the very atmosphere crackled with tension, the silence pregnant with unspoken truths and unfulfilled desires. What was his true and most honest intent in forsaking you? 

Satoru sat by the edge, ultimately deciding to leave you with yet another night devoid of slumber, lone upon your chamber. “Love? That very love is what killed my sister.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

A fair distance from the Gate of Saint Pellegrino, a homeless woman cradled a baby in her arms. Her other children darted about Saint Peter’s Square while she sang a hauntingly familiar lullaby to her infant—a melody too melancholic for a child, yet so fitting for the occasion. You recognized it as the song created by the Caelan citizens after the war ended. Her dulcet voice would rival the angels of the sky, and amidst the throng of people attempting to breach the ranks of the knights surrounding the Emperor and Empress, she stayed firm in her spot, her haunting hymn weaving through the atmosphere, while her storm-grey eyes bore into you with an eerie intensity to captivate you in a trance. 

A rose will bloom, it then will fade

So does a youth, so does a fairest maid

Beneath the stars, they found their place,

In secret trysts, love's tender grace.

But lo, the fates their love did fray,

In bitter strife, they slipped away.

So hush, dear ones, and hear this lay,

Of love that wilted, night and day.

In whispered sighs, they bid goodbye,

Two souls in love, 'neath starry sky.

A decade had passed since the most scandalous demise of the Astheryn prince and the Caelum princess had occurred, where both lovers were discovered lifeless within the somber halls of the Sistine Chapel. Contrary to the common folk's belief, they were not wed, nor did they meet their tragic end at Saint Peter’s, forsooth, as their bodies were in fact found at the nearby Sistine Chapel, and their mortuary later held at Saint Peter’s basilica. The Catholic church acknowledged this romantic tragedy as a conclusion to the long-standing feud betwixt two noble empires, henceforth commemorating the young couple's demise each passing year with a holy mass.

This year rendered particular significance as it marked the solemn tenth anniversary of their untimely departure. Mayhap, it may be the reason why your husband had been on edge as of late. Every year, his sister’s demise served as a brutal reminiscence for him—a grim reminder of his perished sister and the origin of his tyrannical reign. He bore witness to his parents' handling of the conflict with Astheryn ten years ago, whereupon they callously demanded the common folk spill their blood in service to the imperial dynasty, igniting civil unrest in its wake. Such ruthless and cowardly deeds left an indelible mark upon him and brought him to the ultimatum of becoming a usurper. You vividly recalled the night he sought solace at your family's estate, clad in battered armor from countless battles waged. That eventide, he wept in your arms, confessing the death of his sister and his burning desire to exact vengeance upon those responsible for his loss. In exchange for marriage, you devised a scheme to orchestrate the coup that would once and for all elevate him to the imperial throne.

Despite the facade of peace ushered in by the treaty between him and the Astheryn Emperor, the truth remained stark: both empires were merely feigning reconciliation. They were only nominally “at peace”. A cold war, by all accounts, defined their true relationship.

The tension could be felt inside the basilica even from the moment you and your husband arrived at The Venera, a microstate on the borders of Astheryn and Caelum, in front of the men of both empires, as well as the members of the Holy Catholic Church. For many years, this sacred state remained a recognized territory of Caelum, despite its official designation as an independent ecclesiastical entity. The Gojou family were openly pious and deeply devout Catholics, while the Astherean citizens were predominantly Protestants. Not all members of the Zen’in clan practiced their empire’s predominant religion, and some suggested that Emperor Toji himself might be an atheist, albeit discreetly so. Rumors also circulated that the mother of the late Prince Megumi was herself a Catholic, which led to intense criticism regarding her marriage to a lineal heir of the imperial family. 

Nevertheless, this stark religious divide lay at the heart of the perennial animosity between the two nations. 

“Announcing Their Imperial Majesties, Emperor Satoru and Empress Y/N, the guiding stars of our empire, luminaries in the twilight of sovereignty.”

As you walked alongside Satoru, you noticed his usual bright blue eyes turning into a darker hue. His gaze fixated upon the altar, his countenance void of emotion, as you proceeded down the aisle by his side. Since that night, silence had permeated your interactions. And you still had no desire to engage him, especially if it meant enduring relentless pressure regarding an heir or the prospect of divorce. 

Yet there, you carried yourself with an air of quiet strength and dignity—a gown of the deepest black with long sleeves ending in delicate cuffs, a silver cross hung by your chest with a gemstone made from blood red corundum, and a flowing black veil crafted from the finest lace, enveloping your head and cascading gently down your back, partially obscuring your features. The veil added an air of mystery and solemnity in your poise. 

As for him, the Emperor was adorned in a doublet and hose ensemble, embellished with intricate brocade and tailored to fit his form exquisitely to accentuate his stature and regal bearing. Draped over his shoulders was a lavish cape of rich, dark velvet lined with ermine fur and fastened at the neck with a jeweled clasp bearing the insignia of his empire. Each fold billowed around him as he moved, creating a striking silhouette that commanded attention and respect.

No wonder the citizens of this empire were noticing your extravagance. And despised you for it. 

Throughout the mass, Satoru remained stoic, seated alongside you at the forefront of the church, his demeanor suggesting that this day of remembrance was a torment to his very soul. Still, he listened, but you doubted he agreed while Pope Alexandre VI delivered a sermon on the importance of unity and peace among nations, condemning the advocates of warfare and citing the tragic fate of the late prince and princess as a poignant illustration of how the animosity between two empires exacts a toll through sacrifice. Prayers were also offered for the souls of the civilians and soldiers who perished during the war, drawing inspiration from the teachings of the Bible as the mass adhered to the customary order of the Liturgy of the Word and of the Eucharist.

“In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti,” you recited under your breath, genuflecting before the altar and offering prayers for the soul of your husband's younger sister, beseeching that she find peace alongside her beloved under the guidance of the Holy Father. And as the mass drew to a close, you remained on your knees in prayer, the sound of approaching footsteps signaling the unwelcome arrival of an unexpected visitor—a presence that elicited a defensive reaction from your husband.

“Your Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Caelum.” It was none other than Duke Naoya of Astheryn, whose sarcastic presence seemed to have acted as a representative of their highest ruler. Emperor Toji's absence to this occasion already constituted an affront to Satoru, and the pompous mien exhibited by the duke only intensified the indignation. A decade had passed since the death of Prince Megumi, and the prideful Astheryn Emperor still refrained from setting foot on Caelum's soil to acknowledge the purported 'peace' between the empires. Even more, the subtle curve on Duke Naoya's lips added an infantile insult to the already festering wound. “Kindly accept my belated salutations. It took me but a moment to discern thy identity—they speak of the Calean Emperor’s presence as formidable, yet, alas, reality oft falls short of reputation.”

You rose from the ground, poised to defend Satoru, but he raised a hand to forestall your intervention, maintaining his unruffled composure as he addressed the noble man’s jest. “Ah, well the Duke's wit is sharp as ever,” Satoru replied, his tone laced with equal sarcasm and earning the laugh of the surrounding nobles. “It doth seem that overseeing a mere duchy grants the Duke his ample free time, unlike the responsibilities that accompany the rulership of an empire that he so covets.”

“Oh, certainly!” Duke Naoya spoke in Calean with a heavy Astherean accent, still unfazed as his eyes slowly drifted to you. “They doth pale in comparison to the burdens of ruling an empire. Yet, surely, it is not as burdensome with the absence of an heir.” He let his implication hang in the air, an obvious insinuation veiled in the guise of courtly banter.

Before the exchange could escalate into a diplomatic strain, Friar Mychal took it upon himself to intervene, exhaling a laugh of unease and positioning himself between the Emperor and the Duke. “Very well!” he exclaimed. “I have received tidings that the mass attendees shall offer tributes for the basilica in remembrance to the tenth year since the passing of the Prince and the Princess. As a matter of fact, there doth already lie a plethora of flowers adorning their statue that His Majesty Satoru hath offer’d to the museum.”

The museum was just a short walk from the chapel and the space itself was decorated with ornate ceilings, frescoes, and architectural details that added to the grandeur of the surroundings. An array of sculptures lined the hall; of cherubs, saints, warriors, and mythological figures. One of the newer sculptures were of the Prince and the Princess, portraying young lovers in a tender embrace with the princely lad staring at his lady’s face. The sculpture was from a renowned Calean artist which Satoru himself hired out of the pure intention of donating it to the Veneran Museum. The nobles, members of the imperial court, and members of the church were all in awe after the sculpture was revealed to the attendees as such meticulous carvings and lifelike detail could only be done by Giancarlo di Firenze. 

“A remarkable piece, indeed!”

“The detail is breathtaking!”

“To capture such emotion in stone… ‘tis as if they are whispering their love story to us.”

Your husband could not have been prouder. Alongside him, other nobles also contributed their offerings. Some notable ones included stained glass art, precious jewels, a pair of lovebirds, and… a particularly intriguing tapestry gifted by the Astheryn Empire.

The tapestry depicts the Astherean prince and the Calean princess lying together in death with the symbolic addition of a bloodied dagger laid atop the princess’ chest, representing the same weapon that Prince Megumi had used to end his life. The imagery not only insinuated that Satoru's sister was responsible for the prince's demise, but also served as an insult to the prevailing belief in her innocence surrounding her own tragic death.

“This…” Your mouth fell agape. You need not look into your husband’s visage to perceive his growing ire. “This is preposterous!” 

The joy was evident in Duke Naoya’s eyes, yet he endeavored to feign ignorance. “Ah, ere I forget, my noble cousin, the Emperor of the Astheryn Empire, did send an accompanying message addressed to His Majesty Satoru.” 

In the threads of time, woven with the fabric of our shared tragedy, lies the essence of our 'peace'. As we gather to honor the memory of what once was, I send forth this tapestry, whereupon love and folly intertwine in an eternal dance. May it serve as a testament to the fragility of alliances forged in blood and ink, where shadows of deceit cloak the truth we dare not confront. Whilst thou sit'st upon thy borrowed throne, may thou find solace in the echoes of thy usurped legacy. 

With insincere regards, 

Emperor Toji II of Astheryn

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

ACT IV

“My liege, this is unacceptable! Astheryn doth taunt us.” 

An urgent assembly convened at the council chamber, where courtiers gathered to seek counsel from the emperor who was now seated in a position of humiliation following Astheryn's brazen act of insult. You joined the court session in support of your husband, positioned at the throne beside him, while numerous men, each to their own titles and lordship, stood before you both. The courtiers' visages displayed incandescent umbrage as they protested and vehemently rejected the malignance from the rival empire in defense to the Emperor of Caelum. Yet the subject of the scrutiny himself remained staid and dignified. 

“We cannot stand idle in the face of such an insult. If it be war they seek, then we shall grant it unto them!” exclaimed one of the members of the imperial court. A proponent of war he presented himself.  

“Indeed, Your Majesty. To allow such an audacious act of disrespect wilt deem us cowards!” said another one of the men. 

Satoru rested his arm on the armrest, a hand on his chin. He appeared to be lost in profound contemplation, yet you have grown long familiar with that expression of his to know that he was fueled with choler inside. “What say thee, Etienne? War is not a decision made lightly.”

Lord Etienne, as his name was called, spoke his opinion on the matter at hand and acted as an advocate for caution. “Aye and by, my lord. A rash decision could plunge our empire into chaos and suffering. Mayhap, we can explore diplomatic channels first. War should be our last resort, our first impulse not.”

“Your Imperial Majesty!” Lord Armand countered. “With all due respect, thy name hath been besmirched! This is blasphemous, is it not, to this empire and us, its men?” 

“Our men are not prepared for war, Lord Armand,” the previous noble claimed. “An’ how can we wage war with our forces against those of Astheryn’s? Their military prowess is the mightiest throughout the central continent. They are barbaric folks, enemies to peace. We are naught but simple foes to them.”

The belittling of Caelum’s military strength ignited your ire since that the training of soldiers, weapon crafting, and the establishment of the formidable imperial order of knights were specialties of your family—a legacy that your noble ancestors had established in this empire. It was why your family’s ties to the imperial Gojou family remained strong throughout the years. Therefore, hearing such remarks was derogatory to you.  

You held your position and participated in the discussion. “Lord Etienne, dost thou speak so ill of Caelum, which is thy country, and speak so well of Astheryn, which is thy enemy?” For a moment, the court was silenced. “God quit you in his mercy! Hear his sentence. Is Caelum a jest unto thee? We have established our military might since His Majesty’s ascent, and are potent enough to wage war against the entire world!”

“But Your Majesty—”

“Silence, all of thee!” Satoru rose from his throne, exhaling in exasperation, and shot you a displeased look. His next words were sharp and his anger misdirected. “Empress, I appreciate thy indignation, but this proves women shan’t meddle in court sessions. Emotions depart from thy mouth ere logic enters thy mind. Thou art dismissed from this session. At once.” 

You could not fathom his sentences. For the longest time, never before had he dared to disrespect you in the presence of his subjects. Never had he dared to deny you of your rightful place as the empress of this nation, knowing full well the pivotal role you played in his ascension to the throne. Why, you could not speak! You were rendered speechless, too stunned to respond as you sank back into your seat, grappling with the sting of hurt and humiliation he had inflicted on you.

And somehow, Lord Maximillian’s eyes were uncharacteristically fixed on you as though they were in triumph at your situation. He did well enough to mask that with indifference withal. What was this hostility? Even the knights who approached you only had regard for the emperor, following his command of escorting you out of the council chamber despite your desire to stay seated. Yet to save face from this abomination, you did it upon yourself to stand up and leave at your own will. 

“Nanami.” In your disappearance, Satoru spoke again, this time facing his subjects. “How dost thou propose we navigate this situation?”

Lord Nanami was more of the voice of reason, expressing his approach on the matter with neither bias towards engaging in or retreating from war. “My liege, I speak as a good man for thee. Let us convene with our allies, assess our military readiness, and explore all avenues for resolution. Only then shall we make an informed decision. It is most meet we arm ‘gainst the foe.”

Satoru already knew the answer before the man had spoken of it. Why so? Because it was the same route he would take. Only, it was his wounded pride and disdain towards his greatest adversary that landed him to a much more inhospitable decision. “Along with that blasphemous tapestry, written in his message, did that Emperor of Astheryn disparagingly refer to me as a usurper when I am the true born heir to the throne.” He ground out the words with clenched teeth as he stared at the portrait of his father. His hands balled into fists, his face hot and pinched with resentment. He detested being called a ‘usurper’ as he detested Astheryn and all of the Zen’ins. Regardless of the path he took to claim his throne, he was still a direct lineal heir to the Gojou bloodline. “I cannot let that pass. I cannot let his insult go unanswered. Hence, take down these words and address them to him, who is mine enemy.” Satoru stared straight ahead, his face blank and emotionless as he spoke his next words in flawless Astherean language. “Emperor of Astheryn, your words are as venomous as they are misguided. While thou dost revel in thy petty insults and thinly veiled threats, know this: the patience of Caelum wears thin. Thy tapestry of deceit and blasphemy shall find no place within the halls of our empire. Let it be known that the path thou treadest leads only to ruin and despair. Should thou persist in thy folly, Caelum shall meet thy challenge with unwavering resolve. Consider this thy final warning. The drums of war beat ever louder, and Caelum will not hesitate to answer the call, for this usurper thou deride may stay true to that label when I seize thy throne and make it mine.” 

Following the court session, the emperor retreated to the training hall until late evening venting his wrath against the despot from the rival empire. He devoted hours in the hall, wielding his sword, sparring with the swordsmanship master, and decisively overpowering him to feel a sense of honor for himself. In his mind, each strike was a fierce expression of his imagination, envisioning what that battle would be like if it were Emperor Toji II in his stead. It would have been their second encounter in the battlefield as the first one ended in armistice for the sake of the prince and princess. This time, however, the execution of this battle would be markedly different. 

Later that eve, he returned to his study, still in his armor as he met with his most loyal advisor. It was a private counsel to discuss matters unbeknownst to the rest of the empire—the prophecy and, notably, you. 

“I fear this as I say this: the prophecy is upon thee, my lord.” Lord Maximillian’s voice hinted at unease. His warning, spoken with a mood of paranoia. “The oracle’s riddles are living their truth, and this predicament with Astheryn is a vivid illustration of that fact. War looms on the horizon, and it threatens to be thy undoing. Now, more than ever, we require the backing of another nation in the likes of Ellesmere.” 

“I see that.” Satoru responded with a heavy exhale, tossing his metal helmet onto the carpeted floor. He made his way toward the expansive window and gazed out at the courtyard below. There, he spotted you, meandering the rose garden alone under the cover of night. You were brighter than the envious moon, coruscating like a fresh tulip amongst the field of wilted roses. 

The lord cleared his throat and stood next to the emperor. “Thou must rid of her, Your Majesty. If it is what the prophecy hath taught us, then the Empress serves as a harbinger of thy downfall. The destruction of Caelum is the comeuppance of retaining her. Abandon all hope that she will bring thee child or luck. I do acknowledge the attachment that Your Majesty hath formed with her in thy lusty years together, but she is ill fate to all of us.”

You stopped at the fountain, seemingly lost in deep thought, and then began an expressive argument with yourself in your solemnity. The sight earned his smile. Satoru could not keep his eyes off you as if they were drawn by your beauty under the luminescence of the moon. How pitiful, truly, that your innocence left you no knowledge of the conversation he was having with his advisor. 

“She shall be appointed as a concubine,” he declared, “Ridding of her is a waste; divorcing her offers a suitable solution. She may not have my heir, but she is a strong empress. A true villainess, yes. That, she may be, but she is devoted to me.” 

“Which is precisely why thou must dispose of her!" Lord Maximillian pressed onto the matter with greater seriousness. “My liege, it is anticipated that thou wilt yearn for Empress Y/N’s loyalty even at the success of your marriage with the Princess of Ellesmere. An’ her ferocious devotion could only hinder thy plans and bring about thy downfall. Who's to say she will withstand the temptation from inflicting harm upon the fair Princess Katarina out of jealousy? This, as thou knowest, could turn Ellesmere against us!” His passionate speech then silenced him into a quiet plea. “Pray, Your Majesty, I implore thee to ponder it deeply. For the sake of this empire.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕

In the evening, at the hour of eleven did you find yourself wandering the garden. It had become more and more difficult to live each day, unable to grasp why your spouse had been hostile against you for reasons you could not justify. If it were matters concerning your apparent infertility, then he could easily get a concubine just as you had already permitted. All of Caelum's nobility were well aware of your possessiveness towards him, yet it was you who proposed the idea of a concubine to him. Why, then, does he still entertain the idea of remarriage? Is it to guarantee that his heir will not be deemed a bastard? He possessed the authority to prevent such a label from being attached to the child.

“O, cruel fate!” You stopped in front of the fountain, staring at your reflection on the glistening water. “A dispassionate husband you have given me! Am I not fair? Hath I lost charm and warm youthful blood? Hath Cupid launched his awful arrow onto some other where? O, for that he is mad!” 

Tears welled up your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked into the mirrored reflection. You thought of Satoru’s hateful gaze when you closed your eyes and could feel the painful knots in your stomach. He had been naught but a distant spouse for eight years in your marital union, alas and alack, any improvements were farfetched. Every attempt at progress only fueled into a relationship filled with disagreements. 

Your monologue resumed. “There could be another woman, could it? A maid, perchance? One that crawls his bed at night whilst I am sound in my slumber. Fie, insolent wench! Or must it be a noble lady he had seen at a ball, a coming-of-age ceremony, or anything of the sort? Vile, dishonorable harlot! I shall strip off thy noble status and exile thee hence from Caelum!”

A sigh ended your ranting, leaving you with more tears to shed as you fondly remembered your youthful days of infatuation with him. He was the man you had dreamed of, yet now all he would do was to quarrel, and quarrel, and quarrel. You had become an enemy in his eyes. He may have drowned you with extravagant gifts and the rarest jewels throughout your marriage, but the one you most coveted—his love—was one he could not give. 

“My lady?” 

You turned around at the sound of the gentleman’s voice, whereupon a knight presented himself to you. No, not merely any other knight, but the Knight Commander of the Imperial Order of Knights. Sir Suguru, Caelum’s most prized possession, a power and battle-fit warrior, who could defeat a hundred armed men by himself alone. A hero he was referred to by this empire’s people. His commitment to chivalry and service did not go unnoticed as your husband, the very emperor he served, had more than once awarded him for fostering high morale and esprit de corps among other knights. 

“What brings thee hither, and wherefore?” you asked, watching him curtsy before you as he did the standard imperial greetings. His silver suit of armor gleamed, reflecting the stars in the sky, while the black cloak enveloping him mirrored the void of the night. Truly, an intimidating presence for those that knew none of him. 

Howbeit, his face was a stark difference from the aura he exuded. His eyes curved into crescent moons as he smiled, offering what appeared to be a handkerchief. “I am about my nightly rounds in the palace, and in hearing Your Majesty’s woe did I come forth. Is everything alright, Empress?” 

You sighed in lamentation and accepted the linen cloth from his hand. “To say ‘alright’ how I wish that would be so. The state of my marriage troubles me, yet hear none of it for these matters art private.”

Suguru acquiesced to your words and nodded in respect toward you, still remaining by your side in silence. Like a personal guard stationed to protect you as it seemed he had no intention of leaving you alone in the courtyard. 

“How, now! Dost thou not care to leave a woman in her peace?” you questioned, displaying a moue on your face. The tears have long been dried from your cheeks as you spoke to him. “I crave not to be perceived!” 

It was already a rare sight to cross the Knight Commander’s path around the palace, given that his duties did not include serving as a personal guard to the emperor. He was typically present only during official or diplomatic gatherings, and rather trained and oversaw the elite group of guards that would protect the emperor and empress. Nevertheless, with what little interactions you had with him, Suguru had always conducted himself as a respectful and dutiful subject towards you. 

“Forgive me. It is quite perilous to be alone outside at night, Your Majesty, as thy vulnerability may pose a risk to thy safety.” He moved to unclasp his mantle, draping the large black cloak around your shoulders, a much smaller figure than himself. “And if thou permit, the night is cold and a lady must stay warm.”

There was a strange flutter in your heart as your wide eyes saw the gentility in his intentions. You could no longer question why dozens of noble women would line up to vie for his attention. His actions spoke better than his words ever could. How far, you wondered, would his kindness to you take him? “Art thou not a bound subject to my husband?” 

“Forsooth, I am.” He stared ahead. “I have been his friend since our youth. However, it is with Your Majesty’s kin that I owe the honor of being a knight. It is with thy father’s support that I consider myself alive, standing here in this palace as the leader of all knights.” 

Not once did you move your eyes away as you studied his sincerity. “Then, if I ask thee to commit treason against the Emperor of Caelum,” you spoke with such regal power, “Shall I assume thy commitment to me?” 

For a while, Suguru did not speak. He appeared to be contemplating his answer as his stance had become defensive. Or hesitant, whichever fit. He did not meet your careful eyes, though he did look down and confess a knowledge that greatly devastated you. “The prophecy is what dictates His Majesty’s disposition toward thee. In the dungeon hides an oracle that he fortnightly seeks. I escorted him when he visited the oracle, who foretold him that he requires the birth of an heir in the near future, else a woman of no monarchical descent shalt be the cause of his downfall. To mine understanding, he read her riddles as having the need to execute thee and wed another woman of true royal lineage. That, that truth bears my commitment to thee, Empress.” 

Upon hearing Suguru's words did your heart sink, and a wave of disbelief washed over you. It felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a state of shock, desperately trying to grasp the magnitude of what had just been revealed to you. 

“Faugh! By’r Lady, that is a grave accusation!” Anger simmered beneath the surface of your composed exterior. You were livid at Suguru for being the bearer of such devastating news, for being the messenger of your potential downfall, and felt betrayed by your own husband, the Emperor, for keeping such a crucial prophecy hidden from you. You wondered why he had never shared this information with you, why he allowed you to live in ignorance while he made plans for your potential demise. But one thing for certain, was that this was the reason for his growing detachment toward you. 

The knight could only provide you with a comforting bow. “By the grace of God, these words art true. Lord Maximilian conspires with him. Hie to the dungeons and seek the oracle, my lady. She shall impart the truth unto thee.”

Beneath your anger lay a profound sadness, a heartache that cuts to the core of your being. The realization that your own husband, the man you loved and had pledged your life to, saw you as nothing more than a pawn in a game of power and succession. You felt a sense of profound loss, mourning not only the potential loss of your own life but also the loss of trust, of love, of the future you had envisioned.

Despite the tumult of emotions raging within you, you remained outwardly composed, your mask of regal poise firmly in place. You knew you must tread carefully, that showing weakness now would only play into the hands of those who seek your downfall. 

And yet, the devil showed himself. You had been oblivious to your husband’s presence by the window of his study as he stood a great distance from you, watching you engage in an intimate conversation with his Knight Commander down below. He could not gauge where that sudden familiarity came from as he witnessed Suguru draping his cape around you—an action that crossed a territory he should not have sought. The emperor could no longer tolerate watching it, walking in haste along the halls of the palace until he eventually reached the courtyard. His gaze was burning into the back of Suguru’s head as he stopped behind you, waiting for you to notice your husband’s approach before he spoke. 

“Empress.” His deep voice startled you. 

Your eyes were clouded with resentment, hidden under the veil of a devoted wife. “My liege.” 

Satoru stared at Suguru with a fierce look before turning to you. “It is dangerous to be abroad at this hour. I desire naught untoward to befall thee, hence I came hither to ensure thy safety.”

“I apologize, then, for causing thy worry.” A bitter smile painted your lips and the tone of your voice suggested of feigned concern. “As thou seest, I have a knight here who is trained to guard and protect me.” 

The emperor narrowed his eyes at the aforementioned knight, who elected silence out of deference to the reigning monarchs afore him. This very knight was a childhood friend of his, but now Satoru regarded him as a rival, for all the peculiar reasons. “Go and depart now, Suguru,” he commanded, and yanked the cape from the empress’ body, then flung it toward the knight. “I shall escort my wife back.”

Satoru caught you sending an apologetic look toward the Knight Commander, which in return caused his ire to grow. What was the conversation you shared with him for you to act that way? In fact, he had never seen you pay another man that much attention. What a devious, little wench. A foxy, scheming jezebel. Satoru threw insults at you in his head as he took your arm in a tight grip, pulling you away from the courtyard. The silence between the two of you was thick with unspoken tension as he led you up the spiral staircase on the eastern side of the castle. His side of the castle. 

“Darling.” Your endearment came out as a protest as you tried to pull your arm from his grip. “Unhand me.” 

Still and all, he was silent as he dragged you along. It was only a short distance to his quarters, but he did not let go of you even once. You should see in his eyes that he was not amused by the friendly interaction between you and Suguru. 

“I said release my hand, at this very instant!” 

He remained like a taciturn man while ushering you into his quarters. Once he had locked the door behind him, he released his grip on your wrist and turned to confront you. His eyes grew dark and cold. A shade of blue that reminded you of lightning. “I would prefer it if he did not approach thee when I am not present.”

“Ah, see now he speaks!” Scoffing, you glared at him. “He simply tender’d his best to comfort me. Do not suspect it of aught else,” said you defensively, in a voice backed by your authority. Only now did he realize that the expression on your face had become austere. 

“Even if that were true, I have no need for another man—especially a knight—to comfort my wife.”

“A wife? A wife thou ask’d for divorce?” you mocked as his statement erupted a laughter out of you. A loud, boisterous laughter that screamed an insult to his face. “Thou see me as nothing but a bearer of children. Not a wife nor a person thou treasure with thy heart.” As you ridiculed him with humor on your face, your eyes had also grown deranged. “A mere pawn to thy chessboard is what I am.” 

Satoru was rigid in his stance. “I only offer’d to divorce thee if thou were unable to conceive. It is my duty as emperor to sire an heir. If the empress fails to fulfill that duty, I am compelled to find someone else who will—”

“An heir this, an heir that. Out upon it!” You expressed your frustration outwardly, throwing your hands into the air. “Go get thyself a concubine, then, and I shall get myself a lover to even the score.” 

A lover? Satoru was seething, yet his expression remained unchanged. He knew that you were taunting him, and still chose not to give you the reaction you wanted. “Then, I may be certain thou wilt have greater success at producing heirs with thy lover than thou dost with me.” 

“Certainly!” you bit back, anger rising in each syllable. “In place of my husband, mayhap my lover could beget me a child, proving to the entire empire that it is not I who is barren.”

Satoru's eyebrows shot up in response to the blatant insult to his fertility. His cold eyes narrowed, the rage within him intensifying. “If thou hast a child by thy lover, it will not discredit my fertility at all. It will instead bring into question my choice to have a child with a woman who is unable to be faithful to her husband.”

Your chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. “If thou seek thyself a concubine, then I shall seek mine own lover. That or naught at all.”

“Fie! I seek not a concubine,” he raised his voice, a spasm of irritation crossing his face. “Ill-tempered shrew! Many times have said it, and I say it once more. In thy failure to conceive, my will is to remarry another lady and make her the empress, not a concubine! The heir must be legitimate. Stick that to thine empty head!” 

Satoru could feel the heat of your stare burning into him, but his mind had suddenly wandered back to the previous conversation, and he could not help but wonder whether you would actually have an affair with another man. The thought of it infuriated him, but he pushed it out of his mind as you stared at him in blazing fury. 

“Need I remind thee that it is I who aided Your Majesty in ascending to the throne?” A cloud of warning settled over your features. “It is I who aided thee in staging a coup to overthrow thy tyrant parents. If the princess did not perish, would thou not be a madman. Now tell me, the only payment I require in return is thy love, yet hast thou paid thy dues?”

He scoffed at your words. You believe all you did in leading the rebellion was for the purpose of making him emperor? It was in your best interests to see yourself climb the ranks of an imperial power. And it was certainly not love you sought, but mere attention and validation. “My respect should be enough of a reward for thee. I took thee as my wife as a sign of my gratitude. Love was never a part of the deal.”

“Love is the very essence of that deal,” countered you. “Thou would be foolish not to think so.” 

In his eyes, love and affection were something you should receive only when you deserve it, not when you demand it. In his mind, you had grown too familiar with him, too spoiled by his presence. It was time he corrected this. “Thou art mistaken in thinking that love is a condition of our relationship. Never have I made any promises of love or affection. I only promised thee of attention and the prestige of being an empress. Have I not fulfilled this promise and made thee into an empress in its entirety? Love is a mere illusion conjured in thy imagination.”

“A tyrant, he reveals himself!” You pushed him off you, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? Miserable villain! Usurping knave! Betrayer of blood, who masquerades himself an emperor under a false sovereign! I placed thee on that throne thou so wistfully enjoy. Thy power and authority have no hold on me.” 

The emperor's jaw clenched tightly as the empress's words cut through the air like a dagger. His pride was wounded by the venom of her words—words she had not carefully chosen, or perhaps did carefully choose, as she knew what words he despised hearing the most. His eyes flashed with jaundice as he fought to contain the roiling emotions churning within him. He wanted to lash out, to defend his honor and assert his authority, but he knew that such displays of weakness would only fuel the flames of dissent and discord.

Instead, he yanked your wrist again. “Forget not thy place, wife.” And then he grabbed your face with a rough hand, slamming you against the wall. “I may have promised not to take myself a concubine, but that privilege is not extended to thy behavior.” The tightness of his grip caused your cheeks to ache slightly, and he showed no signs of letting go.

“And what wilt thou do?” you spoke through gritted teeth. 

“What will I do? I will remind thee of thy position, wife,” he continued to speak in a menacing tone, “Test my patience as much as thou liketh. Go ahead and take a lover. Let us see how thy arrogance holds up when I force thee to bear his bastard child.”

You cussed him under your breath. “Is that jealousy?”

Yet, his countenance proved otherwise. “Not jealousy, as I am not possessive of thee. Bear whomever's child as thou wish. But once that child is born, I would never claim my title as the father. It would be deemed a bastard, its blood impure, and its existence an insult to my throne.”

“Press not the matters of infidelity to me when thou art the one in desperate need to put thy cock inside another lady.” You were bold enough to send him a look of disgust. “Thou art an emperor all due to me. Without me, thou art naught.”

In a fit of rage, Satoru exploded like a volcano spilling out its reservoir of hot, scorching lava. “You?! You think yourself the savior of this empire? Not by far!” There was a brief pause before he continued, eyes looking at you in unforgiving judgment. “I would have succeeded in leading the coup, even without thee.”

A snort escaped your lips. “Delude thyself that.”

“There are no guards nearby. No witnesses for thee.” The warning he had issued was laden with the implication of impending punishment, fueled by your defiance and vitriol, driving him to a boiling point. He seized your wrist once more, his grip tighter than before, as he leaned in close and spoke into your ear. “I could hurt thee right here and now if I wanted to, yet thou art at my mercy.”

“I need none of thy mercy,” you spat, taken aback as he pushed you against the wall. You could feel his breath fanning your neck as he leaned closer, inches before your face. 

Satoru's laughter rang out as you persisted in your resistance, his eyes narrowing with a mix of intrigue and anger. Your defiance only served to stoke the flames of his wrath as he began to speak, “Darling,” and made a mocking of your endearment, “Mayhap I shall ravish thee until thou art insensible.”

“Vainglorious dastard,” you spitefully replied.

He spoke no words for several moments, his breathing gradually intensifying as he gazed down at you like a toy he wanted to destroy. And for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though he was weighing whether to persist or not, but eventually, he made his choice, his voice adopting a more ominous tone with each word. “Thou wilt be ravaged.”

“S-Satoru!”

He pushed you towards his bed, and himself against you, pressing his body heavily atop yours. His breath became uneven with his anger overtaking his mind. Your whimper of fear filled him with sadistic satisfaction. “Yes, me, as thou said. No one else is here with us, and no one would bat an eye if they heard a scream.”

Your decision to pull his hair proved to be a significant mistake, though it was evident from your expression that you derived pleasure from it. You longed for it. You desired this wanton affection. This carnal desire. Lust bathed in your eyes as you observed him hastily tear his clothing, eager to feel the velvety touch of your skin against his. He wasted no time in undressing you as well, ripping away whatever obstructed your bareness, leaving you both exposed under the moonlight, indulging in the passions shared between lovers.

“I despise thee,” you declared, a hot moaning mess under him as he rammed his hardened shaft in between your legs where he himself was grunting at the pleasure of your tight entrance. In and out he went, and buried his face on your neck to leave purple marks all over your skin. “I-I despise thee!”

“I share those sentiments,” he jested, squeezing your breast in labored breaths before he sucked the rounded mass in his mouth. 

By the end of your long passionate exchange, he lay next to you, body soaked in sweat as he watched your sleeping face. The peace in those saintly features. Did you pass out? He could not be certain. Was he too rough? That, he was certain. It showed on the bruises that mapped parts of your body. He could feel a small tinge of guilt within him as he moved to pull the blanket over you, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“Is this not love?” He opened his eyes when heard you laughing softly, eyes still shut but with a bitter smile spreading on your face. In a cold tone of voice, you whispered, “Thy love is tough, yet love natheless.” 

He knew it was not love, yet even if it was, you would soon be taken care of anyway. You would be exiled or worse, executed, should you fail to heed his warnings. He had to put his ambitions first and foremost before any form of affection he had of you. And if you truly, unconditionally loved him, you would understand why. 

That, that was how he defined love to be. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕𝐈

The castle’s dungeon was an… unsightly place. Aside from the centuries of brutal torture and grotesque deaths that occurred down under, it also housed the memory of Satoru shedding his hands on his kinsmen’s blood. That was the place where he had slain his father, his rotting head still mounted on the wall as though he was an animal that his son had hunted. A tyrant, undoubtedly. Satoru's penchant for brutality knew no bounds, but he certainly got it from his father. While you were responsible for the death of a little over a hundred people, his would account for more than thrice that number. 

As you descended further into the depths of the dungeon, the air grew heavy with the miasma of damp stone, blood, and decay. A putrid, sickening odor greeted your nose the more you entered. If not for the torches that flickered dimly along the walls, you would not be able to see at all, yet those torches casted eerie shadows that danced and swayed with each step you took. It was a frightening sight and definitely not for the faint hearted. 

“Help!” Your senses were assailed by the sights and sounds of the dungeon's grim inhabitants as you ventured deeper into the labyrinthine corridors. Gaunt specters lurked in the shadows, their hollow eyes gleaming with a sinister light as they whispered chilling secrets to one another in sotto voce. Some also cried of agony and despair, some had already fallen unhinged from being held in captivity for so long—it became a cacophony of anguished cries and tortured souls. “Help me, Empress! I plead mine innocence!”

“Step back, Your Majesty.” Suguru, who acted as your companion in this macabre trip, unsheathed his sword to protect you from being touched by the prisoners. He threatened to slash their hands with just a simple touch on your dress. 

“Empress! Empress!”

You deemed it wise to pull the hood of the cloak over your face, especially as the prisoners were starting to recognize you within these cursed confines. It would be troublesome if Satoru were to arrive soon and they began to scream your name in his presence.

“Empress, this dungeon is meant for souls as tainted as thine!” 

That statement proved itself to be spine-chilling and hair-raising, as such accusations could not be denied. Truthfully, your crimes far surpassed theirs. You belonged with the forsaken and the damned. You already accepted that all your sins and trespasses would bring you nowhere near heaven, yet you had blindly murdered people out of love for Satoru. That was how crazy you were at winning him over. And now, this is where it brought you. 

But you pressed on and continued traipsing through the dungeon until you could feel the presence of the oracle drawing closer, a beacon of hope amidst the despair that gripped the dungeon like a vice.

Finally, you reached the chamber where the oracle awaited. It was a figure cloaked in shadow at the far end of the room. And upon adjusting your visions, you could see that the oracle was an old woman, her white hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight around her frail shoulders. Her skin, alabaster. Her eyes, ghoulish and devoid of color, and they seemed to pierce the veil of reality itself as she spoke in riddles and whispers that sent shivers down your spine. It was your first time to encounter such an unrealistic being. They said each word from the oracle dripped with the weight of centuries of wisdom and foreboding. She spoke of prophecies and portents, of trials and tribulations yet to come, her words weaving a tapestry of fate and destiny that hung heavy in the air like a shroud.

“Speak.” You stopped at her chamber, demanding to hear the prophecy she had said to your husband. “Tell me the Emperor’s prophecy.” 

Much to your ire, she gave you no response, still staring at the empty wall. 

“Speak!” Your patience was growing thin as each passing second would crumble any hope you had inside that Satoru was not a man who would forsake you, or even execute you, in exchange for his ambitions. But it had been twenty or so minutes and still there was no word from the oracle. “Have you no mouth? Art thou not a soothsayer?” 

Suguru sucked in a deep breath. Should his accusations of the emperor prove to be a lie, you swore to yourself that you would be the one to put him inside one of the iron maidens in the dungeon. Or that daunting Judas cradle if he preferred. “Your Majesty, it takes time to make her speak.” 

“I do not have that luxury of time! I cannot be seen hither.” You gave him a menacing stare. “On peril of thy life, Sir Knight, if this be naught but foolery, I will disembowel thee myself—”

“Beware! O Empress, keeper of fragile dreams!” 

The sudden burst of the oracle’s voice startled you, as they were far from what you had expected from an old lady. It carried an otherworldly quality that seemed to transcend her physical form. They were melodic and haunting, a chilling quality that hinted at the supernatural origins of her prophetic abilities. It was as though you were paralyzed by the time she spoke, like all your senses stopped working and all you could ever do was be forced to listen to her prophecy.

“For the Emperor's gaze wanders far,

As he seeks a lady of royal blood,

Ambition cloaked in the guise of lineage,

And in his thirst for power, lies your peril.”

As you listened, your heart bled terribly, knowing that the answers you sought lay buried within the enigmatic riddles of the oracle's words. The haunting words of the prophecy echoed through the dim chamber where you stood frozen, in a state of despair and disbelief and every awful thing in the world combined. The truth, once a lurking suspicion, now materialized before you and it left your heart in shattered pieces because you actually hoped that none of the accusations were true. So, how could Satoru do this to you? How could he betray you after all your sacrifices just to be his wife, your efforts just to receive his love, and your crimes just to satisfy his desires? Through your hands, more than a hundred souls had perished. You had shed the blood of many Christian souls for him. You had offered him your chastity and turned back on your reverence by profaning the word of God. You had worshiped him like a divine being. Yet so easily would he cast you away. No, he could not even offer the slightest pleasure of loving you genuinely, without any inhibitions, without anything in exchange. 

While your sacrifices were his definition of the “greater good”, his betrayal against you was his definition of a “lesser evil”. It was his “personal gain”, for your demise would have no profound repercussions on this empire. 

Undoubtedly, that must be his truest and utmost feelings for you. 

Suguru held you in his arms when you fell to the ground, your entire world crashing before you as the oracle revealed your husband’s plans. Your hands were shaking, trembling. You had trouble breathing. He was there to guide you out of the dungeon safely, even if you were to run and weep like a madwoman. But of course, you were not that insane yet. It was simply the ache in your heart that catapulted you into an abyss of pain. 

Satoru must not succeed in his plans. He must not come out victorious. The greatest revenge you could think of was brimming in the back of your mind, ignited by the visible spite you felt for him and his web of deceit. 

And back alone in your bedchambers, nausea overcame you and had you vomiting all over the floor. You retched the harrowing experience at the dungeons, disgusted by things you saw and heard, especially the treachery of your very husband. You were sick at the thought of him planning your assassination behind your back, like an ungrateful imbecile who only cared about himself and his vainglory. 

“Nurse!” you called, coughing out the foul taste of bile expelled from your throat. “Come hither!” 

“Anon, madam!” Geneva came to your aid as soon as you summoned her and tended to your needs immediately. At the time, you could not make out much of the clatter that was happening inside your chambers as you lay in bed with your eyes shut. It seemed that Geneva had ordered the other servants to clean out the mess you had created, while she took over in putting you to bed and making sure that you were warm and comfortable. She had no single idea about what was going through your mind, and had she had any hint about what it was, you could only imagine how bloody traumatized she would be. 

If Satoru wanted to dethrone and destroy you, then you might as well help him with it. He should no longer be surprised to see what good of a show you could offer for everyone in this empire. 

“Good madam,” Geneva called gently, after an hour or so, pulling you out of trance. “A physician is already—”

You lifted a hand, stopping her while you tried to get out of bed. “There is not a need for that.” Despite your queasiness, you had decided that there was no time to waste for this war of love and death against your husband. The sooner you planned things out, the greater your advantage would be. You had to have the upperhand in this. “Nurse, whither wander dost my husband?” 

The nurse guided you up and draped a lightweight shawl around your shoulders. “I ween His Majesty is undertaking a military inspection. Escorted by a ten or so knights goes he.” 

An inspection? It must be related to the discussion at the imperial court. Of course, if Satoru was planning to wage war against Astheryn, he had to review the troops stationed in different regions of the empire to assess readiness, morale, and preparedness for defense. He could deploy an initial 25,000 men in his heavy infantry should he find the need to go on an all-out war with the enemy, but those amount of soldiers would require the emperor himself to arduously test if they were ready for battle. Naturally, the inspection could last four or five days depending on his assessment. And in his absence in the palace, either the empress or the other trusted advisors would usually take on the duties that usually were his. 

This was the perfect opportunity to devise your plan; to prune the branches, weaken the trunk, and uproot the tree entirely. The branches began with his loyal advisors, which have already been filtered out as those previously appointed by his parents became his enemies. Enemies that died by his hands and yours, because those enemies were advisors who did not support Satoru in his method of seizing the highest throne, so he could not risk having rebels in the empire who would later work together to topple him from his seat. When he first rose to the throne, he had several assassination attempts aimed at him, typically by means of poisoning his food with arsenic, or hiring highly skilled mercenaries to slay him behind his back—all of those attempts were intercepted by you. And at the elimination of those disloyal to him, Satoru assumed that the current members of the imperial court could hence be trusted since they had not shown any hints of falsity for the ten years they had served him. 

The difference between you and Satoru was that he was easily beguiled because the noblemen treated him a lot differently than you. They were ass-lickers, trying to win him over for their own superficial benefits, while you knew who among them were simply supporting Satoru for the sake of not being executed. Out of fear, out of an inherent will to live, out of an obvious lack of choice—there was one noble who stood out among the rest. 

And it was the one whose presence was not the loudest. 

“Lord Nanami.” Upon mentioning his name, you entered the palace library—a grandeur chamber notable for its high ceilings, expansive oak shelves, and accoutrements—as he stood in front of a wood table, strangely interested in codices. “Well met.” 

The blond nobleman curtsied. “Your Imperial Majesty, ‘tis an honor to be in thy presence.” 

You gestured your hand into dismissing him, cutting to the chase because you were still unwell. And for all the necessary reasons, you had to have this conversation with him or else there would not be an easier opportunity with Satoru’s eyes and ears around the palace. Nanami was his most trusted advisor, not Maximilian as much as he fooled himself to think so. “What codex read thou?”

Nanami spoke cautiously, his eyes fixed on the codex. “Of some medical writings and scientific treatises. Rumors are circulating about a mysterious outbreak in a remote village in Constantia, a city within the grand duchy of Valoria. It seems to be an illness that is spreading rapidly with only a 10% chance of survival. I hear they are calling it the ‘Black Death’ due to the appearance of gangrene. Considering the trade routes, that city lies along the Veridian Sea, which is a path taken by the ship that trades metals and minerals with us. They engage in that route due to Constantia's involvement with the slave trade, boarding the ship bound for Caelum for the metals and minerals, while ferrying their slaves all the way to Astheryn, their largest buyer.”

As if the gods were with you! 

The topic pulled your sudden interest, for it was proving to be exactly what you needed for your plan to be successful. “An illness, thou sayest? What records have we about its origin?” 

“Valorians perceive it as divine punishment for their involvement in the slave trade. Another prevalent theory is the miasma it brings, attributing the disease to foul odors and noxious fumes in the air and in the environment in which they live. Personally, I suspect it originates from a bacterium resulting from interactions between humans and infected animals.” Despite lacking sufficient research to support his hypothesis, you acknowledged that Nanami's personal theory seemed more plausible. “The symptoms suggest to me that it is not airborne, contrary to what most people assume.”

You kept your eyes on him as he fixed his pince-nez. “What symptoms doth it have? And what conclusion have thee on what they are?”

“Your Majesty, a swarm of dead rats were found in Constantia a month ago,” he first informed, leading you to his suspicions. “Given the escalating tension with Astheryn and our increased need for metal to support our crafting and weaponry, I bade a dispatcher to send a message to Constantia due to their failure to supply us with the agreed-upon metal,” Nanami explained, showing a haze of regret behind in his eyes. “The dispatcher wrote back to me, stating that he is unable to return to Caelum promptly as he was experiencing chills, buboes, and gangrene. I presume he perished within days of arriving there.”

The moue you displayed on your face could not be stopped. “Doth His Majesty know? Of this and yon rumors in Valoria thou speakest of?” 

“His Majesty, the Emperor, hath not been apprised of the matter yet.” The blond nobleman looked at you solemnly. “‘Tis my duty to inform him as soon as he returns from his—”

“No, thou wilt not,” you commanded sternly, earning his surprise in return. “Thou wilt not speak a word to Satoru about this. Obey my word and thou shall be rewarded.” 

This was good. This was perfect for your plans! If it was true that such illness was spreading in Valoria, it would only be a matter of time until the plague reached Caelum and wiped half its population! You laughed heartily inside your head. It would be an utmost entertainment for you to watch Satoru’s downfall before your very eyes. If Astheryn was no threat to him, then a biolgical warfare would certainly destroy him. No one else had to know of your schemes but you.

Of course, the ever-so-noble Nanami was not easy to convince, especially if it was a clash between his duty and morality. “Empress, I fail to comprehend... Such matters couldst pose dangers to Caelum and its lands. His Majesty needeth be informed, as he possesses the authority to prevent the trade ship from reaching us. Astheryn had already long ceased their slave trading due to it. We must do the same.”

“And thou believe I lack the same power to issue commands as an empress?” As you raised an eyebrow at him, his stance became more apologetic. “Continue with the trade by hook or by crook. I will sign the permit and have the ship arrive us on Monday next as planned. Let us not allow rumors of an illness to hinder us from obtaining our required metal from the city of Constantia. As thou said, we need abundant supplies for our weaponry. We must seize this opportunity to bolster our arms. Do not mention this to His Majesty, and if thou dare, thou shalt face the punishment of getting thy tongue cut out.”

Nanami’s eyes widened. “But Your Majesty…”

You pressed your hand firmly against the table and asserted your authority over him. “I have ownership of a couple of remote islands near the outskirts of Caelum. Surely, thou art aware of them? I will instruct my father, the Grand Duke, to transfer one of the larger estates to thee. Additionally, I shall provide thee with a quarter of my jewels and 15000 celestas as a deposit. In exchange, I command thee to retire from thy position and never again engage in conversation with my husband.”

It was a fair bargain. The man was certainly considering that because not only would he secure his own land and riches, he would also be away from the dangers of the plague should it truly spread throughout Caelum and its nearby nations. He would be safe there in his own estate with enough money to retire early. “Empress… whatever it may be that thou art planning, this is treason.” 

“This or punishment is thy only option,” you stated, eyes burning with fire. “Make wisely of thy choice.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐈

The preparation for the New Year’s ball was arduous, and you spared no effort to ensure that every detail lived up to Caelum’s prestige. Because you had a generous budget allocation for this year's banquet, you did not hold back on the display of wealth, power, and culinary sophistication. The menu alone boasted elaborate roast meats, poultry dishes, pies, pastries, desserts, and confections, accompanied by a variety of wines and spirits to enhance the indulgent dining experience. More so, the smell of luxurious dishes inside the grand hall would be enough to water the mouths of the guests.

Invitations were extended not only to the nobility within the capital but also throughout the empire, welcoming all to partake in the feast as long as they came from noble houses. The theme, as initially requested by your husband, was black and silver to match the regalia, although this theme did not extend to the guests. They were free to choose their attire as they pleased, with the only restriction being to avoid the loud colors that represented Astheryn. 

It was well-known that Caelum’s nobility enjoyed flaunting their wealth and status among themselves, further highlighting the perception of the empire as superficial and governed by leaders who indulged in unethical opulence. While you may have denied such rumors, the truth remained: such ostentatious display of wealth was a century-long tradition upheld by the Gojou family to showcase the Caelum Empire as the wealthiest and most powerful across the central continent. If there was anyone Satoru should blame for this excessive extravagance, it should be his ancestors. Not you.

As the empress of this nation and the person who oversaw these types of celebrations, you saw it fit to wear an elegant gown befitting your status. You were dressed in a majestic gown of midnight black velvet, intricately embroidered with religious motifs and adorned with pearls and jewels that glimmered in the candlelight. A towering headpiece, resplendent with silver filigree and bedight with twisted crosses and angelic figures, rested upon your head as a symbol of your pretentious reverence for the church. You moved through the banquet hall with regal grace and elegance, a vision of piety and power, with your outward display of devotion masking the darkness of your thoughts inside. 

Next to you was your tyrant husband, whose attire was an obsidian velvet of the finest kind. Around his waist was a thick belt of black leather cinching the robe, its buckle emblazoned with the imperial insignia. His chest was bedecked with a chainmail hauberk, a display to his martial prowess and readiness for battle, while a silver mantle was draped over his shoulders, adding to his imposing presence. Upon his head sat a crown of gleaming silver encrusted with onyx and obsidian stones. 

“Long live the Emperor and the Empress! May Their Majesties reign be blessed!” 

Upon your entrance down the staircase to the Grand Hall, the guests offered their curtsies and salutations to you and your husband to show their deference and recognition to the imperialty. The nobles had their chance at a brief greeting with the imperial family based on their ranking, although Satoru showed little to no care for those at the lower ranks. Nonetheless, those of lower statuses devotedly sought to curry his favor and prove their allegiance to him. 

He is naught but a fool, you thought inwardly as you watched your husband dismiss a mere count. Satoru must not have realized that those he considered of lower ranking were often the most loyal to him. They were driven by their wish to climb the upper echelon of high society, therefore, they would go to great lengths to gain recognition from the emperor. Conversely, if push comes to shove, those of higher statuses would be the first ones to turn their backs on the imperial family, as they already possessed the wealth and status to sustain their own estates and exclude themselves from the rest of the empire. 

“Lords and Ladies, esteemed guests, and subjects of my realm,” Satoru spoke with gracious authority as he stood by his throne, looking down on the nobility before him, “I stand before thee on this very occasion, the commencement of a new year, to address the empire that rests beneath mine unwavering rule. As thy Emperor, I look upon the vast land that stretches beneath me, and aim to build great cities, forge mighty alliances, and expand our dominion to the farthest reaches of the known world. This eve, we gather not merely to celebrate the turning of the calendar, but to reaffirm the absolute authority that guides our great empire. Let it be known, plainly and honorably, that the prosperity of this realm is intrinsically tied to the strength of its ruler. In my hands, I hold the reins of power, and I shall steer this ship through tumultuous waters with an unshakable resolve. Those who seek to challenge the stability of our empire will find themselves met with the full force of imperial might. Let this banquet serve as a reminder—a celebration of the empire's indomitable strength and an acknowledgment of the consequences that befall those who dare to defy it. Raise thy goblets high, my loyal subjects, for we embark upon another year under the banner of unassailable authority.”

Satoru might be a terrible spouse, but he certainly was not a terrible emperor. He asserted his authority when it demanded him the most, and he knew well enough how to make his subjects cower in terror at every word he spoke. His speech was a simple warning not only to the nobles, but perhaps also to you, as he believed the prophecy pictured you as a traitor to his reign. 

Initially, you could say he was wrong and that never in a million years would you betray the same person you helped ascend the throne. But now that his resolve was to entirely eliminate you in order to succeed in his ambitions, you would not deny such grave accusations of treason on your part. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. It was only too bad for him that he had no knowledge of what you knew, and that was exactly why you were ten steps ahead of him. 

The sound of classical music served as a backdrop for the banquet, with the dulcet sounds of flutes, harps, and viols creating an elegant ambiance through the hall. The nobles worked on their usual slobber and socialization, usually reserved for recently debuted ladies to mark their own impressions within high society. The males were often there to discuss lands and politics or to be in search of their bride who would become the next noble ladies of their respective houses. The scene reminded you of your happy days as a once noble lady, a daughter of a duke, who was also the most popular and most eligible bride for Crown Prince Satoru among all of the nobility within the Caelum Empire. Back then, your biggest rivals were Lady Anastasia de Florentine and Lady Serena de Visconti. Both ladies came from esteemed houses and had therefore become a threat to your desire to be Crown Princess. In terms of beauty, talent, and elegance; they were definitely strong contenders. What they lacked was the wit, the cunningness in which you pride yourself with, as you ended up becoming Satoru’s choice as his empress. 

You were aware that Satoru spent his years as a prince dallying with other noble ladies, even courtesans, as he himself was fair in the face. And he was aware that the ill-fate that had befallen some of those ladies were due to your own cruel doing. You tormented any lady that vied for his attention. It was not until he gave in and got to know what you offered did he stop fooling around with random whores, deeming them unworthy to stand next to him as they served no purpose for him in the long run. You offered a better role to him than the rest of them, especially with your skill as a tactician and your family’s background in the military and weaponry department which all came in handy at the time of his usurpation to the throne. 

In other words, he knew how evil you could be since day one. And benefited from you because of it. 

“What plagues thy mind?” he asked, holding your waist and your hand as you both gracefully danced in pavane. His hair was neatly brushed away from his forehead tonight, with a few stubborn strands dangling on the side. “How awfully silent.” 

You stared at his bright blue eyes coruscating under the chandeliers, noticing how his gaze wandered to a noble lady. “It matters not to thee.” 

Satoru then narrowed his eyes at your coldness. “It matters much to me. What is this foolish act art thou playing at?” 

“A foolish act of playing the role of thy wife,” you answered briefly and sternly. “Dost this banquet satisfy thee? I have invited the empire’s most beautiful and most eligible ladies to be thy concubine. All of age and of noble background so worry not. Thou may choose anyone to thy liking, so the best be with thee.” 

The offense you caused was evident in his visage. As much as it entertained you, he was clearly enraged and on the verge of losing it. You already knew he would just remind you yet again that he wanted to remarry instead of getting a concubine, but it was too good of a reaction to pass up on. In fact, he stared at you blankly, speechless for a few moments as he processed the implications of your words. “This is the game you play?” he murmurs through gritted teeth, a hint of a scowl forming on his face. Conflicting emotions surged within him, a mixture of anger and hurt, yet ultimately he chose not to give you the reaction you seemed to seek. “I will humor thee. Where be these concubines thou dost speak of?”

You scoffed, and then laughed out loud to the point where it gained the curious stares of the nobles. “Wherefore, look everywhere and haply may thy eager eyes find them,” you answered in absolute joy. “That is all they shall be; mere concubines. If thou prefer a young and ripe virgin, that is also possible—”

“Do not get smart with me,” Satoru warned, grabbing a tight hold of your chin. The muscles along his jaw tensed. “Thou art but a petulant wench, a mere ornament next to my throne, lacking the wit and wisdom to comprehend the weight of imperial decree. The matters of remarriage are not simply to jest about. Know thy place, woman, and heed the consequences of thy impudence."

“Is that a threat?” You returned his glare, now feeling all eyes on the both of you. The thick air of tension permeated the hall like a cloud of incoming thunderstorm.

The emperor was not one to show weakness in front of public eyes, now displaying an authoritarian mien to his wife as he tightened his hold on your jaw. “Take it as thou may.”  

In defense to your wounded pride, you shoved his hand away and maintained a rigid poise. “Keep thy filthy hands off me, you usurping tyrant.” 

As tension crackled through the hall, a hushed unease descended upon the assembled guests. Murmurs  rippled through the crowd like a gathering tornado, and uneasy glances were darted between the nobles and servants as they witnessed the brewing disagreements of their imperial rulers. Some averted their gaze, feigning disinterest, while others leaned in with rapt attention, hungry for the spectacle unfolding before them. 

Meanwhile, Satoru was forcing a laugh at your chosen insult. Calling him a usurper really hit a nerve, as always. “Watch that foul-tongued mouth,” he warned once more, “Barren wretch!”

Approaching one of the palace sentinels halfway across the hall, you countered your husband’s heavy footsteps by drawing out a sword from a knight’s scabbard, thereupon making a swift turn to point the silver brand directly at his throat. You had not even realized that it was Suguru’s sword that you took. Deadly silence instantly spanned the hallway, and even the tick tock of the nearby clock had stopped because of the rising tension between Caleum’s reigning monarchs. 

But with one sword raised at the emperor’s neck, twenty more were directed back at the empress. Satoru’s loyal knights were quick to trap you in full circle to protect their sovereign ruler, forcing you to submit and restrain yourself from moving the sword any closer to the emperor’s throat. 

Unfortunately for him, being submissive was no longer in your repertoire. 

“You dare commit treason in mine own palace?!” Your husband’s venomous blue eyes bore holes into your skull—his mouth thinning in displeasure as you stayed unwavered by his imperious tone. “Thou art too brave for an empress consort!” 

“That is rich coming from a usurper himself!” you countered, satisfied by the spasm of irritation crossing his face. “Have as many concubines and courtesans as thou wish, but never disrespect me in front of my people. Treat me not as though I am lower than a mistress merely because I am childless to thee. Dare you not look down at me for I am an empress first ere I am thy wife.”

What kind of psychopath was that man, truly? 

You left the hall as soon as you said those prideful words, no longer wishing to hear what more intelligible things he had to say to you and of the preposterous scene in which you engaged. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much you had come to despise every fiber of his being. He was an ungrateful imbecile who would slay his own kin at the price of his ambitions. You may have started the quarrel, but he did not need to escalate it and put his filthy blood-stained hands on you in front of the nobles. His goal might be to put you in your rightful place, but he chose the wrong person to be his empress. That choice alone was the start of his tragic flaw. 

And with that disrespect would soon come his downfall. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

Satoru struggled to comprehend the shift in your demeanor toward him and the words you chose to speak to him. He found your behavior baffling, as if you had lost touch with reason to be acting such a lunatic. You were out of your bloody mind! What could have driven you to act so irrationally, becoming incensed at every little remark he made? Was it solely because he expressed a desire to remarry for the sake of an heir and requested you to step down from your throne? No, your anger seemed to stem from deeper roots than mere marital disagreements. The hostility in your eyes said so, and it was the kind that mirrored the animosity he had witnessed in his ancestors towards their rival empire. That was the level of rancor you had of him. 

Or could this be the dreaded prophecy coming to life? 

Maximilian had been warning him that the prophecy was becoming truer day-by-day, and that the only way to ultimately prevent it was to banish you. It should be easy, truly, since Satoru had no problems slaying his own kin and hundreds of men. Why should another soul like yours cause such an impact on him? 

Yet, Satoru found himself unable to take that step. The reasons eluded him. What he despised, however, was your increasing defiance. You were no longer the submissive wife he had grown accustomed to. Albeit your inherently strong personality, you had never before lashed out at him, insulted him, raised your voice, or shown him any form of antagonism. You always let him win arguments and understood your place. Extravagant gifts like luxurious silk dresses, rare jewels, and exotic fragrances used to be enough to maintain your compliance. Were his gifts no longer sufficient to appease you? What more did you desire from him? 

Love? 

How preposterous. Love was no gift.

The emperor cussed under his breath as he slid the robe off his shoulder and stepped inside the tub, soaking his naked body under the warm fragrant water. He raked his fingers through his wet, white hair, leaning his head back as he stared at the ceiling. It never occurred to him that his eyebrows had furrowed as his thoughts of you had consumed him. A small part of him yearned to punish you for your recent behavior, while a larger part of him longed to pursue you. He desired to regain your trust and devotion, no matter how absurd it might seem to others. How else could he manipulate someone who harbored such animosity towards him? You had been easier to control when you saw him past his selfishness, turning a blind eye as long as he played the role of the loyal husband.

Fine, if it was disloyalty that enraged you so, then he would show you. In another way. That the loyalty you seek still possessed him somewhere. 

The subject of his plan stood in his privy chamber, assisting him as he bathed that morning. He had long noticed this particular servant's subtle attempts at seducing him, but had always chosen to ignore her as he never felt tempted to indulge. Instead, he found it somewhat amusing that she would willingly display her body to him in private settings like this. Perhaps, he mused, it was a message to him, indicating her desire to ascend to high society by becoming his concubine. She likely sought to escape her life as a mere peasant and elevate herself to the status of a noble lady. She may have even heard of his sexual escapades back then as a wayward prince who entertained different ladies in his chamber before he married you. That was probably why she wanted to take advantage of the carnal weakness that she thought still lingered within him. 

This strumpet. Satoru scoffed inwardly as he watched his personal maid pick up the bottle of lavender oil from the floor. She had purposely unbuttoned the top most part of her attire so that her voluptuous breasts would pop out like two balloons sitting on her chests. Appearance wise, it was clear that she had tried to put on cheap rouge from vermillion or beetroot juice, tinting her lips a brighter red than usual to complement her fiery, ginger hair. Her eyes were lined sharp from the soot, as though she was trying to resemble the empress’ seductive eyes. 

“Your Majesty,” she spoke in a seductive voice, finding her seat at the edge of the tub as she poured the fragrant oil on the hot water. She raised her skirt higher as an obvious attempt to show off her legs, and offered a better view of her huge breasts as she leaned forward. Now that she was closer to him, he could see her taut nipples peeking behind her thin layer of clothing. “Wouldst thou desire for me to bathe thee?”

His lips may have curled upwards into a smirk, but his eyes were as terrifyingly sharp as ever. “Dost thou seek death?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, feigning her innocence as she received his warning. “Nay, Your Majesty! I do not seek such.” 

“Why art thou so bold to think thy body is more desirable than the empress’?” He began to question her pride, and later put her stupidity into good use. She would be the perfect pawn for him to win his wife’s favor again. “My wife hath the most perfect figure I have seen in a woman, and thine is what? Thou boast of thy breasts that resemble a cow’s?” 

“I…” The servant stammered, clearly offended as she got up from her seat and attempted to mask the embarrassment that appeared on her face. Satoru raised an eyebrow and waited for her response, while she gathered her courage to deny his claims. “Forgive me, my lord, if I have offended thee.” 

Satoru shook his head in amusement. “What is thy aim, then, if not to inveigle me into bedding thee? I do not consort with trollops.”

Caught red-handed, she stumbled and bowed her head at the lowest possible level before him. “I beg thy pardon, Your Imperial Majesty! I merely sought to aid thee in the birthing of an heir. I am not barren unlike Her Majesty the Empress, and I can assure thee I will bear fruit even if thou only dost me once.” 

“Get on thy knees,” he ordered, stepping out of the tub and wrapping his bare body with a robe. “Thy know that to be certain?”

Her eyes pleaded for desperation to become his mistress. “Certain, yes! I am certain, my lord! And I will be a loyal subject to thee unlike the empress—”

“Pardon?” As if her words intrigued his ears. In a swift motion, he turned to the servant and looked down at her with his cold, scrutinizing eyes. “Unlike the empress? Repeat thy words with caution. Thou art maligning the most noble woman of this empire.” 

It did look like she found her way out of his criticism by directing his ill-temper towards his wife. “Your Majesty, I am not maligning thy wife. ‘Tis true that Her Majesty is having an affair with your commander of knights! Some days ago did I see the empress and Sir Suguru in an intimate embrace, running through the halls as though they wish not be seen!” 

The emperor's expression hardened at the servant's accusation, his brows furrowing with disbelief and anger. His hand tightened into a fist as he processed the shocking revelation.

“Is this the truth thou speaketh?” His voice was low, carrying a dangerous edge that hinted at the storm brewing within him. The accusation struck at the very core of his trust and authority.

The servant's gaze faltered under the weight of the emperor's scrutiny, but she remained resolute. “Your Majesty, I speak only what I have witnessed with mine own eyes. By my troth and by God’s bones, I swear by all that is holy, it is no falsehood.”

Satoru’s mind raced with conflicting emotions, but he showed none of his inward thoughts outwardly. Instead, he delighted in this ideal opportunity for him to deal with gaining your devotion again. 

“Undress thyself. I want thou bare and without any clothing," he said, his voice cold and measured, “and thou shalt remain in this chamber until my return.”

With that, the emperor swept out of the privy chamber at once, leaving behind a stunned and apprehensive servant. She believed it to be her sign of good luck. Of good fate. That she now found her place as a mistress to the highest ruler of this nation. She could not believe her destiny as she triumphantly unclothed herself, peeling every fabric off her body with excitement as she imagined the things the emperor would do to her upon his return. She would definitely have to deal with his wrath since he just found out that the empress betrayed her, but she was willing to have him use her body and let his anger out on his adulterous wife. An emperor with a distracted mind would be her ticket to being impregnated by his child. Soon, she would be his concubine, she would be the mother of a future emperor. 

She would never again have to suffer as a servant! 

Upon the sound of footsteps nearing the privy chamber, the servant provocatively sat at the edge of the tub, displaying all of her body to him and him alone. “Your Majesty, I am ready for thee.” 

“Art thou?” 

Horror washed over the servant’s face, her heartbeat increasing tenfold as she saw the empress sending an icy stare into her as she stood by the privy chamber’s entrance. Behind her were her ladies-in-waiting throwing their judgeful stares at the naked servant, surrounded by knights who seemed to have come under the emperor’s orders. The emperor! There he was, appearing behind the empress, kissing her cheek and encircling her waist, whispering to her that the servant had attempted to seduce him and had even accused his wife of infidelity. Satoru's actions struck the servant as reminiscent of a child tattling to his mother. He adopted an air of artificial innocence, as if his only intention were to win the empress' trust.

“Send this harlot to the throne room,” he commanded his knights, his voice loud and clear. “Let it be known that there will be consequences for those who dare to deceive their emperor.”

At the throne room, you found yourself seated at the elevated throne next to your husband. This was a place in the castle where the trials of the accused were often held, and now the accused kneeling before you on the lower part of the hall was a lowly maid which Satoru had claimed to have seduced him and besmirched your name. 

Did he think you were stupid? You knew what his ulterior motives were. You were aware of his covert schemes, and that his sole attempt at orchestrating this entire spectacle was to use the maid to regain your trust and obedience out of gratitude. He was clearly at an unrest ever since you had been defiant to him and he was doing the best that he could to make you submit to him. He was desperate to show you that he was on your side and believed that by reporting the maid's advances, he could convince you of his loyalty. Satoru must truly underestimate your intelligence if he thought that such acts would restore his control over you. But for the sake of a good show, you decided to play along. 

As customary, the emperor presided over the trial, while the accused maid stood before the imperialty, her eyes downcast, while whispers could be heard through the assembled courtiers.

Satoru announced her sin in a commanding yet measured voice. “Maiden, thou stand accused of attempting to seduce the sovereign and spreading slanderous falsehoods regarding Her Majesty's honor. These are grave charges that strike at the very foundation of our empire.” 

The accused maid trembled slightly but remained silent, her gaze fixed on the ground. She seemed to be having a battle in her head, realizing that she was being used by the emperor’s cruel game. What did she expect of him? You rolled your eyes. Satoru was a known tyrant. She would never last a day being his mistress, much less a concubine. You were the only lady in this empire that could handle him.

The emperor then turned to you as he continued with his speech. “As for thee, my wife, thou hast been accused of a betrayal that, if true, would bring shame upon the imperial family.” He paused, his expression grave yet thoughtful. “Therefore, I shall entrust the judgment and punishment of this matter to thee. Thou alone knowest the truth of these accusations, and it is thy virtue and integrity that shall guide our course of justice.”

You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was. Now he was even entrusting the maid’s punishment to you? His tactic obviously consisted of two things: 1) giving you the authority to impose punishment on the accused would make you liable for the consequences tied to the matter 2) if proven not guilty, you would have to face the shame of your misguided punishment. Because Satoru was not certain that you were having an affair, he was putting you on the spot to decide the punishment you would give based on your conscience. 

Either that or he may have simply intended to convey trust in your judgment by allowing you to administer punishment. This could be a gesture aimed at restoring your sense of authority and influence within the palace. However, given the complexities of your relationship and the context of the situation, it was likely that his motives were more layered and multifaceted.

“How dost it strike thee, Empress?” Satoru asked in a strangely calm mien. “Mayhap we can give her ten or twenty whips? Have her sent out to the dungeons or the west tower?” 

Oh, did he assume you were not capable of being creative with punishments? You were not one to shy away from brutality like him. In fact, you had something better in store for this servant of his. 

The courtiers listened intently, their eyes locked upon you as you spoke. “It is my judgment that the maid shall be subjected to the punishment befitting her transgressions.”

A hushed murmur erupted through the assembled crowd as they awaited the empress’ decree.

“Firstly, the maid shall be paraded through the streets of our capital, stripped of her garments and bearing the shame of her actions for all to see. Let her walk the path of humility, that she may reflect upon the consequences of her deeds.” Your cruel words carried a weight of overwhelming gravity as you announced the first part of the punishment and proceeded to the next. “Furthermore, the maid shall be delivered unto the custody of our executioners, who shall mete out the final aspect of her punishment. Let her be subjected to the pear of anguish, that she may atone for her sins and serve as a warning to all who would dare besmirch the name of their sovereign.”

The courtiers exchanged somber glances, trembling out of fear at the severity of your inhumane judgment. Even Satoru himself was shocked at the lengths you had chosen to take just to punish a lowly maid. Why was he surprised? He, himself, was entertained at the usage of the brazen bull, roasting his enemies alive as a punishment. The pear of anguish was not even as severe as his usual choices, as its purpose was to have a pear-shaped instrument be inserted in the maid’s vagina, and expand it to the point of internal injuries and mutilation. 

“No! No! Your Majesty!” she cried, her words choked with emotion. She quivered in terror and fell to her knees. “I beg of thee, have mercy upon me! Spare me from such unspeakable agony! Forgive me for my transgressions and the harm I have caused. Pray, grant me the chance to repent and seek forgiveness. I shall never again show myself to thee. Prithee… Empress Y/N… Spare me from this horror, I beg of thee!”

Her voice echoed through the hall with her desperate plea for clemency amidst the shadow of her impending doom. In the silence that followed, your eyes caught the guilt spreading on Satoru’s face. His blue eyes were, for a second, wide and horrified. But he was quick to compose himself and keep yet again a rigid face. 

“Very well.” Satoru gestured to his knights to take the maid away. “Do as my wife says.” 

“My liege, this is preposterous!” In the midst of the tense atmosphere, one advisor, a voice of dissent, stepped forward, his expression grave and his tone measured. Lord Maximilian was only intending to address the emperor, completely ignoring your right as the empress. “Your Majesty, the Emperor,” the advisor spoke respectfully but with conviction, “I humbly beseech thee to reconsider this severe course of action. The pear of anguish, in particular, is a device of unparalleled cruelty. The punishment is more severe than the crime committed!” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I propose a more measured punishment, one that upholds the dignity of your sovereign without plunging us into the depths of brutality. Mayhap a period of confinement or hard labor could serve as a more merciful yet effective means of retribution. This way, Your Majesty, we demonstrate both strength and compassion that define thy sovereign rule.”

“Compassion?” you scoffed, humored by Lord Maximilian’s little speech. His pretentiousness was truly out of this world. He was obviously against it because he refused to see your authority over the court restored. He had not even a single idea that you were already aware that he had been conspiring with your husband to execute you. “Thou speak of compassion and mercy, Lord Maximilian, when this empire had seen the ruthless perish of a thousand Christian souls under your counsel to the emperor. Is that not irony? What about the body of his lordship, Count Stefano, that thou order’d to be skinned alive? Or what about the corpses of men speared on pikes by the Tiber River? Now, tell me about that compassion.” 

Satoru, stuck in the situation, scanned the throne room and searched for his voice of reason. The man who always stood his ground between good and evil. Lord Nanami. Yet the man was nowhere to be found. “Is Lord Nanami hither? Call him forth to me.” 

“I am afraid not, my liege,” spoke one of the courtiers, “He had left Your Majesty a letter advising of his immediate need to be on a sabbatical. Cited he no reasons as to why.”

“Is that so?” your husband’s face contorted into confusion, while you were exchanging glances with Suguru, who seemed slightly aware of your participation in Nanami’s sudden absence. Howbeit, he spoke no words about it. 

And no one else also said another word, therefore, leaving Satoru to move forward with your decision on the punishment. If he was smart, he should see that your decision was not just a mere punishment to the maid but as a warning from you, that he was not the only person in this empire capable of being a tyrant. That you, as devoted as you used to be, could also be cruel if you wanted to be. 

You ignored the maid’s screams of terror as the knights took her away. You kept a dignified appearance and walked out of the throne room, followed by your ladies-in-waiting as they engaged in gossip about the maid and how she had always spoken badly of the empress. You wished you cared, but truthfully, you were far too nauseated as you walked through the hallway heading towards the western wing of the castle, hearing your husband’s voice calling your name. 

What did he need? Your gratitude? Your declaration of love? Your pledge of allegiance? 

Frankly, you cared none, as your extreme nausea eventually had your visions blurred, and your body fainting on the marble floor. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐗

Your head ached.

By the time you opened your eyes again, it was already past noontide. No, it was evening, was it? You were lying in Satoru’s bed while its owner was engrossed in a conversation with a physician. You briefly recounted the events before you were carried here, remembering the trial at the throne room, and you fainting while walking back to your side of the palace. 

“Art thou certain?” 

“I am certain Her Majesty is with child, yes.” 

“How is that possible? Tried have we for eight long years.” 

“We owe this blessing to God, my liege. Thy wish for an heir hath come to fruition.” 

You were… with child? 

You could not believe it. As the whispered revelation reached your ears, the news brought you a swirl of emotions, for the delicate life growing within your womb just challenged the very foundations of your plans. A child. A baby. A life was growing inside of you! It was not just any other life, but an heir to the throne! A byproduct of you and your husband!

But what about your revenge? 

You had a moment of introspection as you imagined yourself at a crossroad of destiny. Should you persist with your plot to topple your husband's rule, or should you embrace the newfound responsibility and safeguard the legacy that had taken root within you? The precipice of your decision would depend on Satoru’s reaction to this matter. Your decision would fall upon his level of trust in you. 

For eight years, you had always wanted to carry his child. You had always dreamed of bearing his heir. This was the very reason why the prophecy existed in the first place, and now that you were pregnant, should that mean that he would no longer find the need to remarry and execute you? Should that mean that the prophecy was false after all? The oracle was a heretic through and through and he never should have consulted with her to begin with!

“My wife.” The gentle caress of Satoru’s voice soothed your aching head. It only took you then to realize that the physician had already left you two alone, and now your husband was sitting on the edge of his bed, touching your cheek. “To think,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with wonder, “that our union has borne fruit at last. An heir to carry forth this legacy of mine.” 

He was joyous. He was surging with happiness which was glowing within him, the kind of joy that you had never seen before as he embraced his beloved wife and shared the news. For a moment, your heart melted and you were ready to forsake the grudge you carried in your heart as he proved his reaction to be genuine. His eyes sparkled like jewels as he placed a soft kiss on your belly, then moving to press his lips onto yours. 

You wanted to cry. You wanted to tear up as never in your life had you received this much level of affection from your own husband. He had never looked at you with such adoration and respect for the longest time since he had been with you. No, this was the very first time he had truly acknowledged you as his wife. 

“Am I no longer useless unto thee?” you asked, carrying a hint of sadness on your tone despite smiling at him. “Shall I no longer be called a barren empress?” 

Satoru solemnly shook his head and kissed your hand, your cheek, and your lips. “No. Each tongue that rises ‘gainst my wife shall fall.” 

You were uncertain whether it was you or him who pulled each other for an embrace, but the gravity that brought you to two together was of mutual force. He held you in his arms tenderly just as you enveloped yourself in his warmth. So this is how it feels like to be loved? You were in complete bliss. You were free from the emotional torment that—

Knock, knock! 

The abrupt knock on the door interrupted the intimate moment between you and your husband, diverting his attention to the intruder who dared disrupt the special moment. Satoru, no doubt, was already thinking of potential punishments in his mind as he summoned his attendant to enter. The attendant conveyed that a knight sought an urgent audience with him, but what could be so urgent at this dead of night? 

The intruder, to your surprise, was none other than his knight commander Suguru. 

“Suguru?” Satoru faced him with a more lenient countenance, “Speak briefly.” 

The knight commander glanced at you before he knelt on one knee and looked at the carpeted floor, delivering a message that required urgent and utmost attention. “Your Imperial Majesty, we have discovered a group of knights clad in silver armor, mounted upon war horses lining the city’s border. My men have identified the potential invaders as the Aurorae Heavy Cavalry of the Astheryn Empire.” 

“What?!” Just like Satoru’s explosive reaction, you were also surprised by the news. You knew Astheryn was ready for war, but you did not expect them to move so rashly. Satoru knew he was right to conduct a military inspection a week prior, because now, in spite of his growing temperament, he was also mentally prepared for an all-out war. “Those Astheryn bastards! How many are they?!” 

“Estimated at about 6000 units, my liege.” 

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Thousands of foreign soldiers stationed at the border of the Caelum Empire was undeniably an invasion. The audacity of this act, carried out without any prior communication to Satoru, no wonder fueled his anger like a volcano on the brink of eruption. It was a blatant disrespect to him as an emperor and to his lands as an empire.

“Double the numbers of our infantrymen and dispatch them to the border!” Satoru's voice carried a low growl, his hand instinctively reaching to massage his temples as he pondered a course of action. “They must comprise our most elite unit. I demand these men be vigilant and alert at all times. Anyone caught sleeping will have their eyes gouged,” he ordered, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation. His eyes held fury in them as he silently paced back and forth in his chamber. However, just as Suguru made to depart, Satoru's hand halted him mid-step. “Better yet, remain here and stand guard over my wife," he commanded, his voice taut with resolve. “I will issue the orders to the army personally and confer with my chief tactician.”

Your husband had already left before you could even stop him. His presence, in a mere blink of an eye, was gone as he stormed out of the chamber, yelling out, “That bastard Toji will die by my hands. How dare he!” 

And now you were left with his commander of knights, Suguru, who looked at you in concern as you made an attempt to get out of bed. He was quick to catch you in his arms, guiding you to walk carefully. “Is it true?” you asked, face inches close to him. You could feel his hand on your waist, and the other guiding your arm. “Astheryn’s invasion?” 

“Empress, it is imperative that thou remain within the safety of His Majesty’s chamber," Suguru advised, his fox-like eyes seemingly enamored by your face. “Thy well-being is paramount, especially now. I see now why thy radiance has been so pronounced of late.”

You smiled at his words. "And what might thou be implying by that?"

“That our beautiful empress bears the heir to the empire,” he spoke softly. “This is a direct contradiction to the prophecy. Art thou pleased, my lady?”

As you nodded, you felt Suguru placing a gentle kiss above your hand, still kneeling before you like a true, loyal knight. He looked at you with a gaze filled with the desire to protect. His chivalry was evident in his demeanor toward you, the most beautiful lady of the empire. Unbeknownst to you, Suguru had long been captivated by your beauty. From the moment he first came to your family’s estate to train as a knight, he harbored a wanton desire for you. Yet, he struggled with his feelings, torn between his admiration for you and his loyalty to Satoru, his friend and lord. How could he? He should punish himself for having a mere attraction to the emperor’s wife. 

“Suguru, I expect thy loyalty to me until the very end,” you interrupted his reverie, bringing him back to the present. He held your hand tenderly, and your waist affectionately. “Can I count on that from thee?”

Before the knight could respond, a fit of unhinged laughter echoed through the chamber. There, your crazed husband walked in, his sardonically joyful eyes wide with paranoia. “Ha ha ha! Absurd! Utterly preposterous!” His loud voice reverberated through the walls, his mind now free of the on-going invasion and was instead evidently consumed by the scene before him. “My wife, thou jest, surely? Suguru, tell me this is some jest! Loyalty, indeed, I have full faith in thy loyalty, but this... the maid’s accusation. It is true after all?!” 

Immediately, the knight commander moved away from you and scrambled to kneel down at the furious emperor. You yourself could not hide your growing anxiety, but it was best to keep calm and explain the situation to your husband properly. 

“My liege, ‘tis not what it seems,” Suguru swore to your husband, who was now laughing manically. 

“Ah, a conspiracy unfolds!” Satoru’s eyes darted between you and his friend. “I see it now, the hidden plots, the whispers in the shadows. My wife and my loyal knight, plotting against me! Speak, reveal the treachery!” 

You shook your head, maintaining your composure. “He speaks true. There is no affair—”

“Fie, you wicked bitch!” By this time, Satoru was throwing a tantrum, kicking the nearby console table and throwing the first vase he saw. 

Suguru rose, his voice pleading, "Your Majesty, I..."

“Get out or I will eviscerate thee in front of her!” Satoru's words cut through the tension, and Suguru, after a moment of hesitation, took a deep breath and left, casting a worried glance at you before exiting. It was clear that Satoru was in a state of manic denial, with his laughter echoing through the chamber like a haunting refrain.

Alone with him now, you observed his demeanor, noting the same scene of past trauma in his laughter. It was reminiscent of the night his sister perished for committing suicide—a portrait of a man on the brink of madness, masking his torment with deranged laughter. Each step he took towards you carried danger. “This... This child thou carry is a bastard, is it not? That child is not mine!”

You shot him a look of disbelief, refusing to entertain such absurd accusations. “Thou art speaking folly!”

Enraged, he seized another vase and hurled it across the room, the sound of shattering porcelain ringing through the chamber, though you maintained your composure despite the sudden chaos. You must not act weak in front of a tyrant. At this rate, he could kill out of impulse, but you were careful not to pull the trigger.

“My wife thinks I am lost in a mire of absurdity?” Satoru’s laugh rang in your ears again. “Conniving bitch! Tell me, this child thou carry, what do I do with that awful thing? Shall I cut thy stomach and pull the thing out myself?”

Slap! A resounding slap, sharp and clear, graced Satoru's cheek as his words drew tears from your eyes. Despite the welling tears, you mustered enough courage to respond. “If thou question the lineage of this child, then is that not a question to thine own fertility? Dost thou deem thyself barren, unable to sire thine own bloodline? If so, thou hast long scorned me for lacking an heir, yet now thou cast doubt upon the child that I carry. Useless, thou have call’d me. Now, useless, thou call thyself! A barren emperor, unable to secure his own legacy, is that what thou perceive thyself to be?”

“Hold that tongue, thou impudent wench!” With a rough hand, he grabbed your arm and tightened his hold so much so that it would leave bruises. “Lo, here stand I, grappling with a war that hath the power to shape or shatter mine own legacy, whilst mine own wife doth gad about like a wanton whore?”

A whore? You laughed, as equally maniacal as him. No, a lot worse than him. How foolish of you to think that your husband was someone you could trust your life with? You could not believe that you almost let your guard down in front of him after you learned that you were carrying his child. Yet here he was, spouting nonsense like an absolute fool. He only judged what he saw, not analyzed what he was yet to know. This was exactly why Emperor Toji would always be a smarter ruler than him. 

“I am thy wife, and I have stood by thy side through thick and thin. I have shared thy lows and highs. I have seated thee at that very throne! Therefore, I will not dignify such insults with a response.” Each word left your mouth with gritted teeth. This was your future, peeled off for your eyes to see. No matter how much you cared for him, no matter how loyal you were to him, no matter how much love you offered to him; you were naught but a woman ready to be thrown at his disposal. It hurt. Truly, it hurt. And because you loved him, you tried holding onto the thin string of hope that he was true to you. That even if he could not love you, he still trusted you. That was the foundation of your relationship from the beginning. Trust. And that will be your ultimatum to him. So, with a shaky voice and tearful eyes, you asked, “I require nothing else from thee but this… dost thou trust me?” 

His answer was a make or break. 

His answer would determine whether you would carry your plans out or not. 

Because if he said yes, then you would forsake everything and be loyal to him without his unconditional love. 

But if he said no, then there was no point at being his wife when your role would always be easily replaced. 

Satoru’s stolid mien was an answer in itself, because his blank gaze and unsympathetic expression sent your heart to the deepest layer of hell. “No,” he declared, “I never have and never will.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐗

Four days. 

Or perhaps five? 

The days blurred into an indistinguishable haze since your husband's decree consigned you to the confines of the west tower. Unlike the dungeon, reserved for commoners and lower ranks, the western tower housed nobility and imperial captives. Though superior in amenities, it remained a prison in essence. There was only a solitary window within the cell that offered a small glimpse of the world beyond. The view was barely within your reach as it was too high up for you to be able to see outside. 

You were treated no less than a rebel. Accused of treason. Accused of infidelity. Your reputation as an empress was tarnished, excluded from social circles, excommunicated by the church—at least, these were some of the things you have heard from the passerby, the attendants who do their nightly rounds in the west tower. The attendants and guards themselves no longer respected you, although you could still sense that they were cautious around you. Afraid that if the emperor were to change his mind and release you, that you would remember their faces and get back at them with brutal repercussions. 

It was entertaining, truly. It was even more humorous to watch the attendant serve you with soup and bread day and night. Judging by the distinct odor, the soup was laced with arsenic. Someone was definitely trying to poison you, but you were certain that it was not orchestrated by Satoru. Not him. He was too stupid to conjure such a plan as it also contradicted his penchant for more direct and violent approaches. If he wanted to assassinate someone, he would rather crack their skulls or slash them in half. He was too bloodthirsty to kill someone by means of poison. 

So that left you with one person: Lord Maximilian. 

Your father, the Grand Duke, promptly sent you a letter after hearing that you were locked up in the west tower, assuring you of his efforts to persuade Satoru to release you and clear your name, demanding your innocence be proved to the empire. He also cautioned that it might be a considerable amount of time before your husband could address your case, given the pressing matter of the Astherean army's invasion on Caelum's borders. In your head, you knew Satoru was having a hard time dealing with the military conflict without your counsel. It was your mind that staged the coup, leading him to his succession 10 years ago. Now, without you, he was faced with difficulty. He did not even have Nanami by his side to guide him through the war. 

You laughed. Good for him. 

On the 7th day, your father wrote again. This time, he informed you that there was a ceasefire between Caelum and Astheryn. Apparently, Caelum was struck by the bubonic plague. Astheryn withdrew its cavalry out of fear of losing their soldiers from the Black Death, while Caleans were left to suffer from the spreading disease. The citizens were going mad, panic was ensuing, and there was food shortage everywhere. No one knew what the cause was nor how to cure it. He said those who had caught the disease would fall to their deaths in a matter of days. 

You laughed again. That is my own doing, father. 

Three days later, another missive arrived from the Grand Duke, informing you of his recent audience with Satoru. Your father let you know that the Emperor still held a lingering wrath towards you, but he confirmed that your trial would be scheduled shortly. The letter also conveyed unsettling rumors of your potential deposition, suggesting that Satoru entertained matrimonial negotiations with Princess Katarina from the Kingdom of Ellesmere.

You laughed even more. A remarriage, just as he wanted. 

On the 14th day, your father did not write. He visited you on the western tower himself, somberly informing you of Suguru’s demise. He revealed that the knight commander had been thrown in the dungeon on the same day you were taken to the west tower, but he was treated more harshly. He was tortured, mentally and physically, until he met a gruesome death. Your father chose to spare you of the details of Suguru’s tragic fate. 

At that, you could not laugh. No, in fact, you cried silently in your cell that night knowing that an innocent man died ruthlessly because of you. 

What a hypocrite you were! 

The burden of introducing the Great Plague to Caelum, resulting in the deaths of countless innocent citizens, rested on your shoulders. Yet, your moral boundary seemed to be drawn at Suguru's demise?

You found yourself engulfed in laughter once more, disregarding the puzzled stares from attendants and guards alike. They may have deemed you mad, yet perhaps, madness was the only sane response to the chaos of this world. Why? What was there to be ashamed of? Life was but a game of strategy, a grand chessboard where the king, though less agile than the queen, would always be the last man standing.

Seated in a corner that night, your laughter mingled with tears, a mix of raw emotions unleashed, as the echo of approaching footsteps reached your ears. The flickering torchlight casted a shadow upon the wall, revealing the silhouette of a tall man escorted by two knights.

“Y/N.” 

When Satoru visited you on the eve of your trial, you never expected him to call your name so tenderly. What you were anticipating was his usual torrent of anger and scorn, and you found yourself bewildered by the odd shift in his demeanor. He then entered your cell and crouched before you, his blue eyes seemed almost softened by sympathy.

“Thy trial is scheduled for to-morrow,” he spoke deliberately, though you avoided meeting his gaze. “I have a proposal for thee.”

You remained silent.

“Even if thou have betrayed me, I will extend mercy unto thee, out of gratitude for aiding mine ascension to the throne.” The irony of his words were a slap to your face, hurting your ears as you listened. “I require thee to step down from thy throne with humility, dispose of the bastard thou carry, and live a modest, solitary life in the countryside. There, an estate awaits thee. I expect thee to live quietly, and await the time I will visit thee. Thou will remain as my mistress, though it will not be officially acknowledged.” 

As the emperor's words were spoken, the empress's laughter erupted with a wild and bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. Your eyes blazed with defiance, lips curled into a scornful sneer.

“Ha ha ha!” 

Satoru’s lips tightened a fraction, his body turning into solid ice as you let out an ear splitting horselaugh. 

“Ha ha ha ha!” 

His eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Empress!” 

“Fool!” you spat, your voice laced with derision. “Thou think to offer me mercy while chaining me to a life of servitude? Thou speak of gratitude while stripping me of dignity and autonomy. Thy offer is but another prison for thee to keep me as a pawn!” Your laughter turned into manic fervor, fueled by rage and disillusionment. “I will not bend to thy will, nor will I accept thy false benevolence.” 

In the end, Satoru was still a hubristic man. An ungrateful, hubristic man. An ungrateful, hubristic, foolish man. 

“Art thou aware of thy current standing?!” He was livid. Oh, he certainly was. 

Yet you? You smiled. You offered him a beautiful, sarcastic smile. “No soul in this empire shall love thee except for me! All are foes to thee, except for me! I alone have loved thee for thee. Ponder upon that, my misguided husband, for in thy quest for dominion, thou hast forsaken the one who loved thee sincerely.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐗𝐈

“We gather today for a matter of great import: the trial of Her Majesty, the Empress, accused of treasonous infidelity.”

As the trial went on, your thoughts drifted back to the day of the maid's trial. Then, she knelt beneath the throne, facing the scrutiny of the court as she protested her innocence and pleaded for mercy. You, once seated upon the now-vacant throne, regarded her with detached interest. The irony of the reversal was not lost on you. It was true that you would pay the price of your wrongdoings, and be rewarded for your kind deeds. In this life, you let your greed get the best of you. You let your love for Satoru blind you. If you were ever to be reborn, you vowed to never again allow yourself to be ensnared by such folly for it led you to nowhere but misery.

How funny is that? These nobles were all here to watch your trial, while a war and plague were happening outside of the castle’s walls. 

“—may our deliberations be guided by the righteous light of truth. Empress Y/N, you appear to be in jest. This trial is a serious matter to thee.” 

You received the courtier’s look of disapproval, while the others were judging your sanity. 

“Let her be,” ordered Satoru, who looked tired and resigned. You could hear his sigh even if he was a couple meters away, and his eyes glowed in sad blues as he stared at you, as if it would be the last time he would ever see your face. 

Perhaps that truly was the case, and you made no effort to fight against it nor did you appeal to prove your innocence. There was no mercy begged for, no forgiveness sought for. It was because you saw no purpose to live this life. He must have sensed your true feelings inside as he watched you from afar, but Satoru still seemed like he was looking for a way to get you out of the situation. Instead of imposing a tyrannous punishment on you, he was clearly attempting to make you innocent. To give you a benefit of the doubt. All of the courtiers and advisors, however, were in complete disagreement. They knew that the emperor held a soft spot for you, but they did not know that his only purpose was to keep using you. 

Honestly? Your mind was growing weary. The trial dragged on endlessly as Satoru struggled to mitigate your punishment. Not until…

“His Majesty, Emperor Satoru, is consulting with an oracle,” you declared, silencing the entire hall with your revelation, ending this ridiculous trial once and for all, “Deep in the dungeon, he hides the old lady. The emperor of this nation is a supporter of heresy, therefore, he is to be subjected to inquisition.” 

Your accusations, indeed, were grave. An eerie and portentous air filled the throne room as Satoru himself was stunned and wide-eyed. Surprise contorted his features after he was exposed. His lips quivered and his jaw muscles tightened, and anger soon smoldered all semblance of composure on his saintly face. 

Caelum was a deeply Catholic nation and the Catholic Church, as an institution, did not endorse or recognize oracles as legitimate sources of divine revelation. Practices associated with oracles, such as divination, fortune-telling, and consulting spirits, as forms of superstition were heretical. These practices were considered as attempts to circumvent the authority of the Church and seek guidance from sources outside of the orthodox Christian belief.

Individuals suspected of engaging in practices associated with oracles, particularly if those practices were perceived as challenging the Church authority or promoting beliefs contrary to Catholic doctrine, could be subject to investigation, trial, and punishment by ecclesiastical authorities, even if they were members of the imperial family. 

Thus, in your revelation, Satoru was now subjected to a much more serious, unforgivable crime than you. Because he would be at war with the Church. 

And not only would he be at war with the Church, but also with Astheryn, and the Great Plague all at once. 

Of course, Satoru intensely denied it and tried to turn things around on you. He was going haywire as your ‘accusation’ caused a commotion amongst the courtiers who whispered and murmured in shock and disbelief. As the emperor, his voice held the greatest authority in that hall, and so he became furious at you, claiming to everyone that you were diverting the situation to seem innocent, denying the existence of an oracle in his castle, and that you were to be publicly executed for the crime of commiting lèse-majesté by slandering the emperor’s name. 

Finally, the tyrant was back. 

You were sick of his sympathetic gazes. 

If your husband knew you by heart, then he would know that your sole intention at declaring his fortnightly consultations with the oracle was because you wanted to anger him, and in turn, get a punishment that would be enough to free yourself from his grasp. That was the perfect approach. 

But of course, Satoru might be slow in that department. All he could see right now was a traitorous wife whose malicious intent was to undermine his authority and topple him from the throne. An enemy. That was what you had become to him.

On the day of your public execution, your father cried. And so did your ladies-in-waiting. The rest were eager to see you beheaded, all with keen eyes as you were ushered at the public square, drawing in a large crowd of nobles and commoners alike. 

Who would have guessed that you held such notoriety?

The words, “witch!”, “traitor!”, and “evil!” were thrown your way as you were guided by two knights towards the center of the scaffold. With a rosary on one hand, and a bible on the other, you looked at your father. He should be safe. You had written him a letter, telling him to bring the family and the servants to a remote island away from Caelum. As for you, your end was near. 

With your head pressed against the block, and the executioner raising his sword, your impending doom was imminent. The imperial sword he carried, you recognized, was Satoru’s personal and favorite sword. 

“Your head will be severed swiftly,” said the headsman, “Any last words?” 

Your eyes found the sky as your lips curled into a sinister smile. “Citizens of Caelum, I will soon meet thy Emperor in hell!” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈

A month has passed since your execution. 

Instead of having your decapitated head impaled on spikes atop the city gates, Satoru ordered your corpse be buried at the tomb. The location was not revealed to anyone else. The citizens also did not question his choice. 

The emperor was secretly grieving the loss of his wife. 

Everyone knew. They were all aware that the emperor was mourning over the empress despite your betrayal of him, yet all of them turned a blind-eye on it. They were afraid that the emperor would punish anyone who would remind him of you. 

Was this still not an act of love? 

In fact, no, not everyone knew. Not everyone were aware that one of your lady-in-waiting swore to him in oath that you never had an affair with the knight and that the child you carried was not at all a bastard, but his. It was Satoru’s heir. It was his own child. It was the future Emperor of Caelum.

Because of his misjudgment and his paranoia, he lost the only woman who truly loved him. 

Now the empire was in shambles. Satoru could not deny that your lack of presence in the castle had a much more devastating impact than the plague that wiped half of Caelum’s population. His advisors were of no use when it came to military tactics. Nanami, the most competent of them all, was nowhere to be found. The soldiers have been struck by the Black Death, lowering his total heavy infantry down to a quarter of its nominal full strength. 

The plague had spread rapidly, causing widespread devastation and food shortage, and as the death toll rose and communities were decimated by the plague, desperation set in. There were villages that had more dead people to collect than living beings who survived. It was a state where all were affected no matter what their noble rankings were. 

People tried various remedies and treatments, often turning to religious practices such as prayer and penance in hopes of appeasing divine wrath and stopping the spread of the disease. Plague doctors also swarmed the streets with their dark canvas robes and beaked masks, implementing quarantine and treating infected individuals. 

Satoru secluded himself in his chamber, both day and night, observing the devastation of his empire from the castle's highest vantage point. Desperation ran rampant, driving citizens to seek sanctuary within the palace walls. Initially, the emperor permitted entry only to the highest-ranking nobles. However, as word spread of the palace offering refuge, lower-ranking nobles and commoners clamored for entry, prompting Satoru to order the complete fortification of the castle walls.

The stench of burning bodies permeated the air as the castle became besieged by the diseased, seeking entry but met with the fierce flames intended to ward off infection from the emperor and his staff.

“What say the Kingdom of Ellesmere?” Satoru, who had been suffering from high fever, muscle pain, and skin lesions, was accompanied by a state of paranoia as he spoke to Lord Maximilian. “The marriage negotiations with that… that princess. What says them?” 

“My liege.” He bowed, apologetically. “They no longer wish to proceed. As we are struck by the plague, King Kalleon IV thought it would be of no benefit to be in alliance with a fallen empire. Furthermore, there is something that thou must be aware of, Your Majesty.” 

The emperor looked at his advisor.

“The trade ship that caused the plague to spread throughout Caelum was…” the old man paused, wary of the ruler’s reaction, “It was approved entry by the late Empress Y/N.” 

Ha ha ha ha!

How twisted of you, indeed. Where does he go from here? Satoru was sick, genuinely sick, as he heard the clamor of diseased individuals rioting outside the castle walls. Inside the palace, his own people were also engaged in their own chaos. He was at a point where he was too fatigued to react violently at his wife’s crimes. What did Maximilian want him to do, chastise you? You were already gone, and you have left him with the most profound revenge than any punishment he could ever fathom. 

Satoru found himself consumed by a maelstrom of emotions. He was seeing red from his visions, and seeing black from his discolored skin. Gangrene. Buboes. Chills. All he could do now was laugh at his misery. He grappled with the haunting question of how he arrived at this wretched juncture. What deeds, what choices, led him down this harrowing path of suffering and despair? 

Lord Maximilian did one last attempt at coaxing the emperor. “My liege, the prophecy…” 

The mere mention of the prophecy, however, ignited a primal fury within him. His words filled Satoru with a seething rage and he entertained the notion of silencing Maximilian's voice forever, drawing his sword and executing a swift slash on his advisor’s neck. 

That damned prophecy! 

That, that was what led to all of this! 

In the depths of his suffering, Satoru had experienced the last stretch of the disease entering his body. He was vomiting, crawling on the floor, reaching for the window in hopes of seeing his empire for the last time. But eventually, his weakened body had him submit to his forfeit. 

In a matter of minutes, he would soon find death and earn his place at the ninth circle of hell. 

In a matter of seconds, he would soon be named the most hated emperor in history, just as you like it. 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

In the aftermath of the plague and the cessation of war, the once-mighty Caelum Empire lay in ruin, its rulers, named the most evil Emperor and Empress in history, overthrown. The remnants of the imperial lineage crumbled under the weight of their tyranny. Rising from the shadows of despair emerged the newly crowned Emperor Yuuta, the only remaining lineal heir of the Gojou lineage, who returned to Caelum from his exile with a fervent commitment to restore and rebuild. Known for his fairness and compassion, Yuuta pledged to rebuild the empire, to heal its wounds, and to usher in an era of lasting peace. With each brick laid and each decree issued, he sought to honor the memory of those who perished and to ensure that the horrors of the past would never be repeated. And so, under Yuuta's steadfast guidance, the Caelum Empire embarked on a journey of restoration, its future brightened by the promise of a new dawn.

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

-> NEXT PART

[sena-seastar]

Let The Light In

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: You try to help Aemond relax when the world outside your shared bedroom becomes too much for him to handle.

Warnings: slight angst & fluff

A/N: This fic is incredibly self-indulgent, as I am deeply infatuated with Aemond's hair. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!

The soothing, gentle sound of crackling wood from the fireplace echoed in the air. The shadows of the flames danced along the walls of your and Aemond’s shared bedchamber. Lately, though, it seems like it’s just yours. Your husband had decided to sleep in his own private quarters for the past week. Something that perturbed you deeply. 

This week has been filled with the most restless nights you've had in years, leaving you thoroughly exhausted. You had grown quite accustomed to sleeping in Aemond’s strong arms. The two of you had never spent a night apart since your wedding night two years ago. The marriage had been arranged, of course, but the two of you had quickly become besotted with each other. 

Has your spark faded so soon?

You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. Surely, you were just overthinking things. Aemond had his hands full with the threat of war looming on the horizon. It made sense that he would have little time for you. That was just something you would have to learn to accept.

You let your eyelids fall closed as you continue to run the brush through your hair. The day had quickly come and gone. The hour of ghosts was quickly approaching. You prayed that sleep would come easier tonight. Your poor mind and body craved a peaceful night's rest.

You jump on the small cushion bench you have been sitting on as your bedroom door slams open and closed—Aemond storms into the room. You watch quietly as he paces the room, mumbling angrily in high valyrian. You try to gauge what he is saying, but he is talking too quietly and far too quickly for you to understand. Even with the lessons Aemond and Maester Orwyle have given you over the past year and a half, it was nearly impossible to comprehend Aemond when he spoke so quickly.

You call him, but he ignores you. So you try again, this time much louder. His back is turned to you. You watch as he slowly turns, his eye wandering about the room as if it were some foreign place. You squirm in your seat when his gaze finally falls upon you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought I had gone to my room.”

Your heart sinks at the thought that he no longer considers this his room.

“It is yours, just as much as it is mine,” you shrug.

“Of course,” he mutters sheepishly, shuffling his weight back and forth on his feet.

“Has something happened?” You ask, hoping to draw him into a conversation before he tries to flee.

With an exasperated sigh, Aemond moved to the bed, sitting at the edge. He clenched the blanket tightly in his hands. The two of you sit in silence. You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from badgering him with questions. He’ll never talk if you do that. The minutes feel like hours, but soon, he speaks.

“My mother is angry with me,” he says quietly. 

I should have known, you thought. You were well aware of the strain growing between your husband and good-mother since he had returned from Storm’s End. Since the murd- the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Your heart aches for your husband. You know how close Aemond was to his mother and how much she meant to him. No doubt, the distance between them was significantly affecting him.

“She blames me for starting this war. As if she and my father's council have not been plotting to usurp the throne for years,” he scoffed.

His voice was laced with anger and frustration. You want nothing more than to go to him. To reach out and soothe him, but you're afraid he will leave. This was the most time he had spent with you in a week. You were desperate for his attention.

“The realm is preparing for a war the likes of which Westeros has never seen. She is afraid.”

“Aren’t we all?” He snickered.

The two of you sat in silence. Aemond rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. He seemed so small, almost like a child. Your heart grew heavy, weighed down by your worry and concern for your sweet husband. You wanted to help him, but you did not know how—or if he would even let you.

Your fingers twitch, curling around the brown wooden brush handle in your hand. You look down at it. A smile spreads across your lips as an idea finally comes to mind. You turn around, placing the brush down on the table before turning back towards him.

“Come here,” your soft voice cuts through the silence. You beckon Aemond closer with your hand.

Aemond lifts his head. The man looks at you apprehensively, his eye flickering towards the door. For a moment, you fear he will run, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a slight nod and pushes himself up from the bed. You stand just as he’s about to reach you and quickly step aside. You gesture towards the cushioned bench, instructing him to sit. He hesitates but follows your instructions.

 Aemond sits up tall on the bench, his body tense and rigid. His violet eye watches you in the mirror as you step behind him.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to his eyepatch.

His face goes pale, and for a moment, you regret asking. Perhaps you were overstepping. Though before you can apologize, he nods his head. Your heart skips a beat, overjoyed that he still trusted you enough to see him like this. You have to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

You try to steady your trembling fingers as you loosen the eyepatch strap. Your eyes flicker towards the mirror. He isn’t looking at you anymore. Instead, his violet eye is closed. He flinched, and his brows knit together as you pulled the eyepatch off his head. You freeze, unsure if you hurt him or he is just uncomfortable. It had been years since he had lost his eye, but it still caused him some discomfort.

“Are you alright?” You asked. 

He blinks, eye flickering towards you. He watches you, no doubt waiting for some sign of disgust or repulsion. But you give him none; you never have. In your eyes, he was perfection. You do your best to look at him with all of the genuine concern and admiration that you can muster.

“I-,” his voice cracked. He blushed and quickly cleared his throat. 

“I’m fine.” He answered, more assuredly this time.

You nod, leaning over his shoulder to carefully place the eyepatch on the table. Your finger moved back to his hair, gently tugging on the tie that held his hair away from his face. Thankfully, it slips off with ease. His hair falls forward, curtaining around his face. 

You gather the hair off his neck, drawing it onto his back. A soft sigh escapes him as your fingers graze against the sensitive skin of his neck.

You reach over his shoulder again, picking up the brush you had been using moments ago. His single eye falls closed as the brush touches his head. You go slowly, trying to be careful of any knots and tangles, though there are none. The brush skims through his silver tresses with ease. You find yourself growing envious, thinking of all the times you and your handmaids have had to wrestle with your hair. 

His hair shines like beaten silver under the candlelight. The sight is almost hypnotic. You continue with your work, letting the brush run through his silver strands again and again. Little by little, his facade crumbles, and his body relaxes under your touch. After a while, you put the brush back on the table. 

You massage his scalp with your fingertips. Aemond’s head is tilted back just a bit, and a soft hum echoes from his throat. The sound reminds you of a cat purring. You smile, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Carefully, you remove your fingers from his hair before brushing through it one more time.

“Would you like me to braid it?” You ask.

“Yes, please,” he answers.

You nod and get to work. You don’t do anything too extravagant, just a simple three-strand braid. Once you are finished, you lean down and press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“All done,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he replies, sleepily.

You expect him to get you and leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he spins around on the bench. His large hands gently take hold of your hips, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that you almost missed it.

“For what, my love?” You ask, gently caressing the side of his face with your fingertips.

“For this ... distance between us.”

“Oh,” you hum. “It’s fine. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he mumbles. “I have been-”

You shush him and place a gentle kiss on his scarred brow. “All is forgiven.”

His lips part as he prepares to argue, but he doesn’t. He closed them and nodded, silently thanking you for your forgiveness. Silence takes over the room again, but it’s more comfortable this time. Aemond rubs circles on your hips, through your thin nightdress, with his thumbs.

“Perhaps I shall rest here tonight?” He suggests, avoiding your gaze.

“I would like that,” you smile.

Aemond stands, and you help him undress before the two of you make your way back to your shared bed. Your husband climbs into the bed after you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your back is pressed against his bare chest, and almost immediately, you can feel your mind at ease.

“I love you,” he whispers against your hair.

You try to say it back but cannot, as sleep pulls you away from the waking world. You squeeze his hand in yours and hope he understands.

[fanaticsnail]

Sanji in his little "Kiss the Cook" apron.

Is it romantic? Starting as a joke with kisses on the cheek and temple until the two of you end up full on making out?

Or is it platonic? With the straw hats giving him little kisses in passing, starting with Luffy and spreading through the crew until even Zoro relents? Because what's better than kissing the homies goodnight?

You tell me snail, what's the move?

-♡♡ lots of love

"porque no los dos?"

Kiss the Cook

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,700+

Synopsis: Sanji was gifted an apron from Nami after returning back from town. Every member of the crew aside from Zoro and you have followed the embroidered instructions written on his chest, and he wasn't happy about the lack of kisses from you. You finally relent and give him what he wants.

Themes: platonic kisses, fluff, implied f!reader - but can be read as gn!reader, sanji has feelings for you, you have unspoken feelings for sanji, idiots in love, Sanji has lost that 'line-cook rizz'.

Notes: This has been in my ask box for less than a day. I don't know what it is about you, anon. As soon as I see those two little hearts I'm just overtaken by something. I blame the "kisses". @chikariart on twitter.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @indydonuts @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @writingmysanity

“Could these onions misbehave any more?” the chef grumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth and clamping hard down on his cigarette, “C’mon, now. What have I gotta do to get your layers off? Talk dirty to you?” He used the steel edge of his knife to attempt to pry the brown outer layer away from its fleshy underside with shaking hands. 

Sanji’s nerves were ignited, his whole composure on edge and waiting for the next intrusion in his kitchen and potential distraction from his work. 

When Nami brought the frilly pink apron his way, he was initially ecstatic at the notion he was thought of enough to be given a little gift. But as the red embroidery with white stitched hearts expressed consent for his body to be given sweet kisses at all times, he was truly alert. With an assault of affection from all who approached him each time he adorned the fabric in its wake, he was finding it difficult to focus on each mundane kitchen task. 

In this case, peeling onions was the bane of his existence. As the flickered peel almost withdrew from the circular bulb, it split and only chipped off a small amount of the outer layer. 

Sanji loved kisses, adored kisses: all the cheek, forehead and shoulder kisses he'd received from the crew. Cheeky Nami kisses, soft Robin kisses, and nibbled toothy kisses from Chopper were his favorites. 

He was less enthusiastic about hulking, wet kisses from Franky, nor the hungry cheek kisses from Luffy which was used to depict the state of his appetite. Usopp was the middle ground, his kisses were a tease on his shoulder with a rough clap and a gaggle of laughter immediately thereafter.

Brook’s kisses were actually quite funny to the blonde cook. As the skeleton man had no lips to kiss with, he resigned himself to the notion of simply walking past him, and taunting him with a melodic hum of the words: “kiss,” “kisses,” or an emphatic “mwah,” as he did so.

Of the members of the remaining crew, he was happy that the stinky moss-head kept his lips to himself. There was no way he would allow him the closer proximity to his body without starting a sparring match. He was, however, not so happy that you were yet to place your lips sweetly on the apple of his cheek. 

Sanji adored you, wanted to treat you with the utmost respect and dote on you alongside the other members of the crew. You were special to him, and he rationalized that his small crush was why he was craving a scrap of your attention so much. As he continued cursing at the onions, he heard a soft tap on the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Need help, cook?” Sanji looked up, noticing you leaning on the side of the door. He smiled softly at you, biting back his smile and gulping his insecurity. 

“Oh, beautiful angel,” he managed to turn away from the counter and look out the window as he resumed his battle with the onions, “I'm all good here, don't you worry yourself. Go relax with the others.” You clicked your tongue and stepped closer to the bench and stood a few feet away from the blonde cook. 

Noticing his posture, you knit your brows in puzzlement. He was twitching while he was going about his peeling, finally managing to coax the shell away from the exterior and sigh in relief. His cheeks were tinted a soft shade of pastel pink, his nose the most darkened by the blushy hue. 

Looking down, the frilly pink apron with ‘Kiss the Cook,’ held the final piece of information as to his nervous composure. You smiled softly at him, looking to where his hands skillfully minced the onions and threw them into a scorching pot with molten butter and aromatic herbs. 

He rinsed his hands in the sink, lathering them with soapy froth and soaking the suds with glassy water. The scent from the pot of sweetened onions with rosemary, sage and thyme had your mouth salivating in anticipation of what was to come. 

“What's cooking, good looking?” you smiled at him softly, gesturing with your chin to the pot on the stove. He froze up, his ears tinting darker with the shade of pink. 

“J-Just a mirepoix,” he stuttered out, prompting you to shake your head and offer him a soft laugh in response. Taking the extinguished cigarette out of his lips, he placed the butt in the bin beneath the sink. 

Noticing the tension in his body, you reach up and place a hand on his shoulder to urge him to turn to face you. He meets his gray orbs with yours, a sheepish look on his face as you gaze up into his eyes. 

“You've been off the line for too long, Sanji,” you scrunch your nose up playfully at him, “Lost that flirtatious kitchen charisma and banter, blushing like a bride at the most simple of compliments. What's going on with you?” You graze your fingers along his jaw, leaving a rising layer of goose flesh in its wake. 

“I-It’s-...” Sanji gulped his nerves back, hanging his head with a soft laugh and subtle shake in response, “...It's this stupid apron.” You look down at the apron with a smirk. 

“What about the ‘stupid apron’, Sanji?” you ask with a raised brow before gazing back into his eyes, “Not your color?” He continued smiling and shaking his head at you before looking up through his eyelashes into your questioning and puzzled eyes. 

“To be honest with you,” he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to halt his words from sounding too eager, “I actually love it. Even though it started as a joke, it has actually made a big difference the way I’ve been feeling lately.” He shrugged, turning his eyes back to the ground and snickering, “Stupid, right?” 

Cupping his face, you elevate his head and hum at him in deep contemplation. 

“Not stupid,” you shrug at him, darting your eyes between his and flickering your gaze down to his lips, “Not stupid at all.” His breath hitched in his throat, eyes beginning to fill with hope as you drew your face ever closer to his. 

Closing his eyes, he parted his lips and anticipated feeling yours brush with them. His heart beat in his throat, his ears hearing that drum of hope ringing with his elevated pulse. As he drew his face closer still, the balloon of anticipation was instantly deflated as he felt your lips brush with the apple of his cheek and linger for less than a single second. 

As you withdrew from his cheek, Sanji was left feeling like a complete idiot. He stared vacantly, directly ahead with unblinking eyes and his ego completely deflated. His heart fizzled out like a flame being snuffed by a wet blanket. 

Looking at his vacant expression and the soft blush on his cheeks, you couldn’t help yourself. A single, timid kiss was not enough of an indulgence to grant to the blonde cook, in your opinion. You leaned forward once more, pressing a soft kiss on his angular jaw before pressing another on his neck above his pulse and beneath his ear lobe. 

Sanji’s breath hitched, his hands opening and closing in clenched fists and shaking extensions. Gasping, he leant his head to the side and whimpered at the soft touches you were pressing into his skin. His pulse quickened, his breath hitched, and his eyes clenched tightly shut as he argued with himself where to place his hands on you. 

Trailing your lips down to his collarbone, you pressed a sweet and gentle kiss against the bone before clamping your teeth down onto the flesh. Sanji mewled in pleasure at the attention, throwing his head back and drawing up his forearm to his face to catch the damp blood from exiting his nose. His head was dizzy, his lips parting and whining as he felt your tongue swirl around the soft bite to his collar. 

Pulling away from him, you sucked your lips into your mouth and bit-back your smile at his reaction. He slowly drew his eyes down to meet yours, the irises eclipsed by blown pupils and his desire. Giggling at him, you tilted your head to the side and clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your feet. 

Sanji surged his body forward, claiming your cheeks beneath his hands and carding his fingers through your hair the moment his lips descended onto yours. You squeaked in response, immediately placing your hands on Sanji’s hips as he pinned you against the sink with his hips. His kisses were needy, desperate and full of desire. 

As he rotated his chin to deepen the oscillation, you reached up to his shoulder and tapped it twice while gasping in his mouth. He tugged himself away, looking down at you in shock with wide eyes and panting breath.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he began to hastily relay his apologies, “I didn’t mean to do that, truly. The other kisses I get from the crew are usually a little more hasty and less indulgent. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, honest-.”

“-Sanji,” you laugh at him, looking up through half-hooded lashes and brushing your nose with his, “Your mirepoix is going to burn.” 

Immediately, Sanji broke himself away from you and stomped over to the large pot. He grumbled as he stirred the aromatics with a wooden spoon, growling under his breath, “This stupid apron has been nothing but a complete distraction.” You giggled at him as he aggressively began stirring at the pot to salvage the caramelizing vegetables. 

“That’s it,” he tore the apron away from his chest and cast it to the side, “No more kisses in the kitchen. I refuse to have good food spoil because I’ve been getting distracted by soft kisses… sweet kisses…” he trailed off, fishing around in his pocket for a cigarette after he rotated the vegetables within the butter. 

Shaking your head, you go and retrieve the apron from where he cast it aside and hung it over the kitchen table. Eyeing him over mischievously, you walk over to him and hold his hips firmly from behind and place one more soft kiss between his shoulder blades. 

“Come find me when you want to put on that stupid apron again, hm?” you utter, releasing his hips and making your way over to the kitchen doorway and out of the room with haste. 

Sanji shook his head with a warm smile and a dark blush. Looking to where you had just left, he sighed deeply and began to focus solely on the meal preparation with no more cause for distraction.

[mysicklove]

Summary: Yuuji has a bad day, and all he wants is for you to make him feel better <3

Warnings: cheesy/sappy writing!!!!!! like so cheesy. I can't help it. he makes me sick. slight dom/sub dynamics (reader being dominant), suggestiveness/talks about sex, kneeling + praise heavy, aged up! character! gn! reader

Wc: 2.0k

A/N: i saw this in my drafts and just wanted to finish it up before starting my other wips. i am lovesick with him, do not mind me. i am actually embarrassed at how sappy this is

art here! by @mpsql - super super super cute!!! <333

Yuuji was exhausted. It was just one of those days that seemed to drag out – the watch Nanami gifted to him seemed to tick as slowly as possible. Nothing was going his way, and although he never made a fuss to the people around him, he still was frustrated by all the events. 

But now he was home –  he didn’t have to worry about those things anymore. He could crawl up to you, and with the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair, he was bound to be left thoughtless. Or maybe you would touch him tonight – he has been good, so he doesn’t suppose that it was out of the question. 

He takes a deep breath, snapping out of his thoughts – getting a hard-on would not be appropriate right now. The man opens the door to your shared apartment, mumbling out a greeting and scanning the room. He calls your name, setting down his bag and walking toward the living room. You pop your head out of the office, wearing your blue light glasses. “Ah! Welcome home, love,” you call, smiling at your boyfriend, “I am doing some work right now, but dinner is in the oven. You are welcome to eat it without me. Gotta finish this!”

He doesn’t say anything, but a frown pulls at his lips. Suddenly, he feels his previous emotions resurfacing just from the sound of your voice and the familiar warmth of his home. Itadori pads over to you, ignoring the wafting smell in the kitchen until he stands directly next to you. Then, he grabs the back of your rolling chair and flips it away from the screen. You blink at him in surprise, being torn away from your work. “Yuuji?”

His lip wobbles at the concern in your voice, and the boy immediately falls to his knees in front of you without a word. He presses his head against your clothed thigh and wraps his arms around your waist. “Just….bad day.”

You frown at him and place your hand on his head, gently petting him. “Poor thing,” you coo, and his whole body shivers, but he nods into your leg. “Do you want me to do anything for you?”

He thinks back to his previous idea: sex. Something that he was opposed to, but now, in the moment, he didn’t crave it as much. He wants your touch –  he always does, loving physical affection more than anything, but maybe tonight, it didn’t need to go below the waist. He was content just being close to you.  

“No. But, can I stay here?” Itadori asks, voice soft and barely above a whisper. He was content in this position, finding that it strangely made him feel small, and your words made him feel safe. 

You cock your head to the side, slightly confused. “Kneeling? You might get uncomfortable.”

He blinks at you, shaking his head stubbornly. “No, ‘s fine. Like it down here.”

You grin at him, now using both hands to rub through his hair and gently massage his scalp just the way he likes it. “Does it have anything to do with what you are facing?”

He eyes at your crotch for a split second and then looks up at you, a small pout on his face. “‘I’m not some perv, you know.”

“Just teasing you,” you sigh, ruffling his hair slightly. “Anyways, I have to do work, Yuuji. I can’t keep petting you.”

He yawns into your leg and sighs. “It’s alright. I’ll sit and be quiet.” Then, he closes his eyes, cheeks pressed against your thigh, content. 

You face back toward the computer screen, not paying attention to the boy who seemed to be pressing himself impossibly closer to you. Ten minutes go by, and you are more than surprised to not hear Yuuji’s usual light snore. He tended to fall asleep pretty easily, so it was shocking that he was awake right now – you dont comment on it, letting him rest his eyes.

But his silence doesn’t last much longer than that. His dark eyes peer open, and he glances up at you. His voice is soft, as if afraid that you will be upset at him for distracting you. “Can you do the thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Where you uh…compliment me.” 

Your eyes flicker to him, and you notice the tips of his ears turning a shade of red. “You want me to praise you?”

He readjusts himself on the floor nervously, but nods his head. A hand returns back to his head and the boy seems to melt at the touch, eyes already fluttering shut again. “Well, I suppose it’s not hard to. I could list about fifty things I love about you without even thinking about it.”

He gulps, face now a bright shade of pink, and sighs into your pants. “Me too.”

You trace the tips of his ears with your pointer finger. “Cute,” you say, smiling at him as your computer screen darkens with its lack of use. “Hmmm. Where do I begin?” you ask yourself rhetorically, and Yuuji waits in silence, trying not to buzz with excitement. 

He readjusts himself on the floor, pressing more of his muscled frame on top of your lap. It reminded you of a great dane trying to be a lap dog, because they believed they were the size of a chihuahua. It’s cute, and you didn’t mind his extra weight. “Well, I guess I could start with how kind you are, but that sort of a no-brainer.”

 “’s not,” Yuuji mumbles into your pants.

“No? I disagree; everyone knows Yuuji Itadori is kind. It’s been like that since high school and probably before that. The boy who makes everyone feel comfortable. Who radiates warmth, light, and happiness. Y’know, you could easily compare to the sun.”

Yuuji squirms in your lap, making a small noise of complaint. “Now you are just exaggerating.”

You beam at him, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t lie to you.” Your fingers ghost over his lips before he tries to argue again, and he remains quiet at the gentle warning. “I think you are very pretty Yuuji.”

You use both of your hands to cup his face, rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks that were warming up steadily. He wants to complain about the word choice, but he finds himself remaining silent, finding the compliment strangely endearing to him. He has been called handsome before, hot even, but pretty was not common. You preferred to call him cute most of the time, which he has grown to love even if most men didn’t. 

You lean down and press your lips to his hair. “Your hair is pretty, soft, and easy to pet.” Then you move down to his eyes, kissing at the scars beneath them and his eyelids when he instinctively shuts them. “Your eyes are pretty, a warm shade of brown, or maybe an amber color?”

He squints at you, one eye remaining shut from where your thumb pads just below it. “I just call them brown.”

You pout at him. “Aw, you're no fun! They are much more than brown, and you know it. Now, your nose.” You peck the tip of it, and he blinks at you, waiting for what you are to say next. “Hmm, I guess I don’t have too much to say about it, but it is really cute.”

“I like your nose a lot,” Yuuji interrupts, and you bark a small laugh. In return for his remark, you teasingly press your thumbs into the corner of his eyes when you catch him staring at it. He shuts his eyes with a whine, trying to pull away.

You breathe out another laugh and then move your fingers again to trace his skin, peppering it with small kisses. You go back to complimenting him. “The prettiest skin, with the cutest scar beneath your eyes.”

“Dont remind me,” Yuuji grumbles, thinking about his time with the curse. He was exorcised a while ago, and Yuuji can safely say that he enjoys being able to think for himself once again. Plus, the flirty comments about you from the king did not sit well with the boy.

He shifts on the floor again from the thought, and you frown. “Are you sure you don't want me to grab you a pillow for your knees?”

When you try to stand up, he simply presses more of his weight onto you – successfully pinning you to the chair. He looks at you with a small pout, “I said I was fine. I was comfortable in that position!”

You pinch his cheeks with a teasing smile, ignoring his small whines of protest. “So whiny. I just want to make sure you dont get bruises on your knees. Could lead to some misunderstanding, hm?”

He looks away, rolling his eyes but smiling again. “You have a dirty mind.”

“Y’know, I can’t help it when it comes to you.”

His cheeks flush again, and he groans into your pants. “Please dont tease me. You know how easy it is for me to get turned on.”

Your nails drag over his neck, and he does a full-body shiver, while he hides his face in your leg again. But you continue running your fingers over his shoulder and down his back. Then, you tilt his chin up to look at you. “Dont hide. I am not done praising you.”

“Sorry,” Yuuji mumbles, trying not to gulp at the way your thumb drags over his lips. He keeps looking away, but also leaning closer in hopes that you may kiss him. It was so easy to in this position.

“Did I compliment your whole face already?” you ask, knowing the answer. You have kissed and praised every facial feature except for his lips. 

He was waiting for you to finally kiss him for real. Your lips grazed every part of his face except his own. So, he shakes his head and blinks at you. “Uh, you haven’t said anything about my lips yet…”

You cock your head to the side, frowning at him. “No? I am sure I did.”

You were teasing him – he knew it. You knew that he wanted you to kiss him, and you were being purposefully cruel. But, Yuuji was known to getting straight to the point. “Please kiss me now.”

A laugh falls from your lips at the whiny demand, and you shake your head with a grin. But, you listen and lean forward and peck at his lips. Yuuji pouts at you, furrowing his eyebrows and shaking his head. It wasn’t the type of kiss he wanted, and the both of you knew that. “You were so nice earlier. Why are you teasing me now?”

Your thumbs rub at his eyebrows, smoothing them out until he relaxes them. “You make it too easy.”

“Can you kiss me for real?” Your thumb continues to rub at his lip, and you stare at it, waiting. Yuujis face was flushed from embarrassment, and his tongue runs over his teeth before he says, “Please?”

And with that, you smile at him and gently press your mouth to his. This time you dont pull away and instead let Yuuji lead the pace. He, like you expected, nearly pounces on you, tilting his head up and placing his hands on the back of your hair. He makes a small moaning noise and pushes himself closer to you until his knees hover above the floor so that he can reach your mouth more easily.

You are the first to pull away, and he tries to follow you, chasing the trail of saliva connecting you two. Pants leave your mouth, and you laugh breathlessly as he obviously waits to kiss you again. You lean back in your chair, and to this, Yuuji leans forward, now resting his arms on either side of your legs.

The action makes you raise your eyebrows, and you gently squeeze his cheeks together, shaking your head. “You are quite spoiled.” 

He frowns at you, upset that you dont want to kiss some more. “Not spoiled enough,” he mumbles, and at this, you laugh while he continues to pout, even when you let go of his cheeks.

Your hand goes back to tracing the skin on his face, and Yuuji leans into the touch like he is some sort of cat. “Is there anywhere else you want me to praise, Yuuji?”

The comment was meant to be lighthearted, hoping that you could compliment something he was insecure about. But, the boy, in return, pauses for a moment and looks at you with wide puppy dog-like eyes before slowly dragging his hands down his body until his hands touch his crotch. He gulps and says, “I think, um–I think here needs some attention too…”

Your lips curl up in a grin. “Aw, I thought you said you weren’t a pervert?”

He thinks back to what you said earlier and lets out a small laugh. “Y’know, I can’t help it when it comes to you.”

Your lips are back onto his in an instant. It always ends up like this: Yuuji says that maybe he didn’t need sex tonight, but somehow, one way or another, the two of you end up in bed together. He didn’t mind it one bit.

[blackbirdie1234]

Paul's Imprint

What being Paul’s imprint would be like.

A/N: Not proofread. Hope you guys enjoy this and let me know if you would like me to do the other pack members or the Cullens(what being their mates/bloodsingers would be like). I really appreciate all of the likes and reposts! Thank you all so much and I am glad you like my fics :)

Being Paul’s imprint would require A LOT of patience.

He has a soft spot for you, so his anger wouldn’t be taken out on you or directed much toward you, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t see his bad side. When someone in the pack pisses him off he usually gets upset and phases. They fight it out, and then he comes home. He is either still upset or wants serious attention. If it’s the former expect some attitude and him taking it out on basically everything else but you. He might be aggressive with things, slamming things down and being loud. You would probably need to give him some time to cool off some more before trying to comfort him. If it’s the latter then you will have to have a cuddle session, his favorite position is laying in the bed or couch with his head in your chest and you playing with his hair and talking about your day. Your voice soothes him and calms him down, so he likes it when you talk to him. He could care less what you talk about, you could tell him about your day, or how much you hate that one girl in your math class because she chews gum loudly, you could literally talk about anything and he would be content. 

Being Paul’s imprint means a lot of love and affection.

When he isn’t on patrol, he is with you. He will be on you and hugging you all of the time. Now if you have trauma with affection or just don't like to be touched he would 100% respect your boundaries, but he would try and find small ways to show and get affection. Like holding your hand or even just touching his pinky against yours when you are next to each other. He would find ways that wouldn’t make you uncomfortable and was still getting his needs met. He doesn’t mind showing his affection in front of others either, he could give less of a fuck if the pack teases him. He loves you and doesn’t care who knows it. At the beginning of your relationship, he was very careful, learning what you liked and what you disliked. He was also very subtle with his affection but he still craved it just as much as he does now. He would softly play with the hair on the back of your head while talking by the fire, small and soft touches here and there, he would DEFINITELY do that thing where guys softly touch your waist while moving behind you.

Being Paul's imprint means you would spend a lot of time with the other imprints.

You would probably be close with the other imprints. Having a werewolf boyfriend isn’t exactly normal. You might feel alone or lost a bit in the beginning. Paul was one of the first to phase, which means you most likely were also one of the first imprints. Especially if you knew Paul before the transition. Emily was one of the first imprints you met, she was so sweet and welcoming to you, and your bond turned into a sibling relationship. She treated you like family right away and made sure you knew that you were always welcome. You met the others as they became a part of the family and now you spend a lot of your time with them. You do a bunch of group things together, shopping, baking, cooking, movie nights, and of course bonfires. You all enjoy each other's company. The boys are on patrol a lot and it helps everyone get their minds off of missing them. 

Being Paul’s imprint means late-night texts and calls.

Again, the boys are on patrol any time of the day or night. When Paul takes the night shift he makes sure to update you and let you know that he is safe. He is also expecting the same from you. He misses your voice, especially when your schedule gets busy and you can’t see each other as much. Sometimes he’s able to slip away for a second to see you, give you a hug and a kiss and then he is back out patrolling. He does it more often if he is patrolling near your house, mainly so he can do it quickly before Sam notices that he is missing and makes him come back.

Being Paul’s imprint means he is VERY protective of you.

He is already a protective person, it doesn’t matter if it is his friend, family, or even a stranger. He will take a bullet for someone he doesn’t know, it’s just in his nature. For you on the other hand, he would take that bullet and then hunt the person who shot it down until they beg you for forgiveness for even daring to THINK about hurting you, all the while he is still bloody and hurt. His protectiveness also correlates with his jealousy. He is a very jealous person when he is in a relationship. Even though you are his imprint he still can’t help but let the green-eyed monster loose whenever another person hits on you or checks you out. He knew you were hot, but you were for his eyes only. Being a werewolf means having to control your anger, but Paul was never really good at that, so most of the time it was you who had to calm him down. You didn’t want your boyfriend to maul someone, especially not in public. You were the only person who could calm him down fully, you would reach for him with your soft touch and everything else would fade away. Sometimes all you had to do was give him a stern look and he would cool himself off not wanting to make you upset. It bothered you sometimes how angry he would get, you tell him all the time that he is the only one for you and he has nothing to worry about but he still lets his jealousy get in the way of reasoning. 

[jealousmartini]

A little crazy ideaa I just scripted because I am an attention wh!re (don't tell anyone I'm putting you guys on this tho)

   ── .✦  ┆  𖤐  ┆  ␥ 

THE PHEROMONE PERFUME EFFECT

But first, what is a pheromone perfume, Keesh? 💭

Googled definition :: “The idea is that these fragrances are designed to mimic human pheromones which are ultimately used to attract others,” says Jérôme Epinette, renowned French perfumer and creator of Sol de Janeiro’s famed Cheirosa 59 Perfume Mist. “They bring a sensuality…something a bit more animalistic, that carries a bit of drama.”

My idea that I scripted was that my stage presence/aura has that pheromone perfume effect on people. Like, yknow how men act up when their girl has that perfume on? Yeah, THAT effect. I personally tweaked the effects of my aura only slightly to match my charisma. For example, i scripted my stage presence/aura as effortlessly attractive, irresistible, teasing, pretty, magnetic, addicting, playful, and exciting.

And then I scripted the effects my aura has on people. For example, I make people awe, excited, nervous, flustered, hyped, enticed, addicted and infatuated. Idk about "animalistic" yet cus I'm not tryna get attacked on stage for being hot cus someone couldn't contain themselves, but I AM tryna make people go a little cray cray for me lol.

I did also highlight that my aura does affect more than just fans but also idols too because I can. Like yes, I am trying to make male and female idols alike hesitate to make eye contact and sweat around me! some more than others but ignore that☺️

Anyway here's like the actual attention wh!re scenarios I've scripted:

✦ | I easily make hearts melt and hands sweat just by looking at them. My presence is undeniably breathtaking, and it's difficult for people to take their eyes off me

✦ | How does a sweet heart like me manage to make people nervous? Is my beauty just that intimidating? They can't seem to get a sentence out without folding.

✦ | Even idols can't get enough of me. I make girls wonder if they wanna be me or be with me and I make men's mind blank

✦ | Idols who I like always seem to like me more. Like, what do you mean you've been meaning to get my number but didn't know how?

✦ | Literally, the tiniest skin contact with me makes people panic. But yet they crave something they are petrified of? Just a little touch won't hurt you

✦ | gonna add some more later :3

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

[ Inspired by this tiktok I saw just now ]

[4pfsukuna]

California king bed

Debrief: its 1:12am and neither you or satoru can sleep, Suguru has a solution.

Warning: satoru is a sore looser who sucks at rock, paper, scissors. Satosugu x Black coded reader.

Suguru stirs slightly in his sleep when he hears your soft giggles. He was never a rough sleeper but  he loved laying in the California king sized bed lovers not far, to him this was peace. A lazy Wednesday afternoon when it's raining the soft pitter patter of rain hitting the window Gojos long ass leg thrown over you and him—

—your r&b playing as he alternates between running a thumb over his calf and leaving soft little kisses on your temple curls that slipped out from under your purple satin scarf tickling his chin. He knows your scarf is going to slide off soon and you’d complain all morning so he adjust it eyes half lidded.

But it wasn’t Wednesday afternoon, it was Sunday morning approximately 1:12 am, the pitch black being illuminated by the glow of Satorus  bright blue eyes and the slight bickering of you two.

It's when he hears Gojo suck his teeth and “no, best 2 out of 3” the soft clicks of your acrylic nails and then “wait princess 3 out of 5” that he hears your giggle again.

“You're hogging him and I want my time” he hears Satoru whine before he feels your body press further into him. There's the strong scent of your vanilla lotion and caramel scented leave in conditioner followed by a cool breeze in the room but he knows thats absolutely not the reason you moved closer.

“So what! you lost at rock paper scissors 7 times im not sharing so you can cuddle him, fuck you” he hears you whisper yell to the snow haired man and his eyes snap open. You two were up disrupting his sleep with a fucking rock paper scissors game to see who got to cuddle him?! 

He felt his eye twitch…twice before a smile falls on his face and before he knows it he’s laughing ending the bickering between you two. You two were the biggest idiots and had a strange way of making him feel so loved. You both wanted him? 

You both wanted him.

Oftentimes in your relationship he felt he was fighting Satoru for your attention and oh did that man have a slick way of getting exactly what he wanted. He’d pout and huff and puff and he was equally in love with satoru so he knew once the man got pouty it was hard to not give him his way, hard not to bend to his wants.

But hearing you fight Satoru to be close to Suguru? He only wishes he let it go on a bit longer. He craved your affection.

Rolling on his back he looks over at the two of you seeing the pure love and adoration in both your eyes he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat. 

“If i sleep in the middle will you two shut up?” He asks teasingly, pulling you from the middle to his left side letting you curl up and throw your leg over his thick thighs. He pays you no mind as you stick your tongue out at Satoru before yanking him closer, his head immediately resting on Sugurus' chest directly across from yours, flicking your tongue.

“I could hollow purple your tongue right now and—“ he begins his empty threat until you roll your eyes and cut him off making sure your leg brushes his.

“You wouldn’t! You like the thing i do with my tongue” you smirk closing your eyes feeling  Suguru plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.  

“What?! She threatened me and mmpph—“ you peek an eye open to see Suguru pressing his lips against Satoru watching how he melts into it all fight dying on his tongue any leftover battle being licked out by Sugurus tongue. 

The dark haired man pulls him down to his chest and you watch as Satoru complys looks overly contempt with himself closing his eyes. He hums when your hand finds a way to his hair nails on his scalp, his fluffy white hair covering your hand.

Suguru watches the whole interaction fighting to keep his eyes open and admires the both of you falling asleep in a pile of tangled limbs and love for another, there's no place he'd rather be. 

So yes he might like wednesday but he also loves Sundays at 1am during the spring  when both of his lovers are curled into his sides blocking him from leaving the California king sized bed.

 He loves Sundays at 1am during the spring when you’re dressed in nothing but his oversized tshirt and Satoru is in a deep sleep occasionally squeezing him or curling more into his side.

He loves Sunday at 1am during the spring when it’s still dark outside, still quiet… still. Because he has several more hours in bed with both of you, more time to get rest, more time to admire you both, more time to love and feel loved as he pulls the both of you closer. 

Sinking further into the pillows he lets sleep takeover the glow of the city 20 floors down from the penthouse lost behind the black out curtains, the city sounds of cars and horns lost from so high up the only sound is breathing and the steady thumping you hear of Sugurus heartbeat.

[intoxicated-chan]

Hi! Can you make yandere head canons for miguel o'hara? I'm curious what kind of yandere he will be ;-;

Yandere!Miguel O’Hara Hcs

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ What it’s like having Miguel as a Yandere, welcome to the life.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Reminder! This is DARK CONTENT!! Thank you for the request! I may have gotten carried away with it… I also feel like this is more of a little fic than hcs, I’m sorry if it appears that way!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, DARK CONTENT, stalking, toxic relationship, controlling, death, blood, power imbalance, tracking, baby trapping…

Dark content under the cut. MDNI 18+

If you are an employee at his business, Miguel can be/is controlling and delusional.

Controlling people is easy for him, he owns a business, and quite a large one.

So, in the beginning, of course he’s in denial. But he wasn’t going to deny the affection you gave him. You just offered him a drink. He wasn’t going to deny your attention. He collapsed before a meeting.

Because of this, you became more affectionate. In reality, you were just worried about Miguel, you couldn’t sleep at night unless you knew he was taking care of himself, which is why Miguel issued you a watch. Lyla was built into i2t and it gave you access to Miguel whenever.

What you clearly didn’t know was that there was a tracker built into it, and Lyla kept tabs on you as well, per Miguel’s request.

It was all harmless, he just needed to know where you were 24/7. The location of your apartment, friends’ houses, favorite shops or cafes. Everything about you.

But one day, randomly, he thought back to the people he lost. He worked so hard for you, he couldn’t dare lose you.

Slowly, Miguel confined you to work at home. Then came the random visits so he could check up on you, but he was getting a good look at your apartment. Which room is what? Where’s the bathroom? First-aid… Things like that.

Then comes the stalking. The man has all the connections he needs to get what he wants. It’s easy for him to have people watch you, and if they aren’t good enough, then he’ll have to do it himself.

Which is why Spider-Man is always coming around when you’re in trouble, almost like he knows what’s going to happen. You didn’t find it strange, he’s Spider-Man. He should be everywhere and keep everyone safe.

It’s all harmless, it’s not like he’s purposely leading bad guys to you so he can save you, having you believe Spider-Man will always be there for you. Which is an ego boost for him, a very big one.

But your day became hell when Miguel promoted you to his personal assistant. It was from then on that he stayed in his office almost the entire day and you were there with him, running files, altering him of meetings, you had to keep him organized and on schedule. With his stubbornness, it was impossible.

It was like he was purposely giving you the wrong papers which made you look like a fool in front of everyone. Which ruined your reputation within the business. A once proudful, one time, and perfect employee is now screwing up simple numbers.

Which then leads you to talk about it with Miguel, he became your support system.

But being your shoulder to cry on wasn’t enough for him. But having you by his side, tabs on you, knowing your location… It will settle the dust, but not for long.

He’s going to start craving for more and more,

When you get into a relationship with him, he can become violent. But not directly at you, he’ll be punching walls, throwing objects as a way of controlling.

Making you second guess your choices of words. He’s jealous and highly possessive, manipulative and overly affectionate.

There will be days where he’d ignore you then a few hours later, he comes in with your favorite flowers and all doting on you.

“You must understand why I am hard on you, because everything I do, I do it for you.”

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who’s perfect for him and the other way around. So when an insect comes crawling into your life and putting thoughts into your minds, he has no other choice but to get his hands bloody.

He prefers slow and painful rather than quick and harmless. He wants the insect to know the pain of how hard it was to convince you that they were wrong. He might keep torturing them for a couple days before he’s done with them.

Whether it be a stranger, acquaintance, sibling(s), best friend, or parent(s)… Doesn’t matter who they are, they have no right to voice their opinions because his relationship with you is golden, perfect.

Even more when he finds the discarded pregnancy test, all his hard work and he’s finally getting rewarded. A dream he wished for, a family he desired for.

He finally has you where he wants you to be. Alone, scared, and confused. You swear that you were taking your birth control. He switched it out. Even with a plan B he gave. It wasn’t a plan B.

He has you scared, worrying about how you were going to take care of a baby without him, but of course, here comes his facade. He’s comforting you, letting you know that he’s happy with the result, and he knows that you didn’t mean to trap him. He trapped you.

He’s got his wish, and he ain’t letting that go.

Everything is supposed to be.

Yet there always has to be something screwing up his plans.

Even if you do run away and think that there’s no way for him to find you, he’s already at the hotel. Did you forget? How could you?

Like before, Miguel has connections and not only that, he’s Spider-Man. He’s going to convince you that it’s best to return because the baby needs both parents, no matter how shitty the relationship the parents have with each other.

What else should you do? Get married! Better now than later. Invite friends and family, who aren’t dead yet, to come join you and your husband on your happiest day of your life.

Locked down to a man who controls every aspect of your life. A man who will kill anyone who dares to say otherwise because they have no brain, until like him.

He knows what’s best for you, no matter what anyone else says.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[peterparkeeperer]

sitting pretty (edward cullen x gn!reader)

You could tell he was looking at you. His eyes had a presence of their own.

“What do you want?” You asked teasingly, without looking up.

“Your attention, preferably.”

You smiled impishly and found your eyes repeating the same sentence over and over on the page below you. He probably knew he was a distraction, or that you were really bad at concentrating.

“Oh, really? What kind of attention?”

It was his turn to be impish, “Only the innocent kind. I am a gentleman.”

“Someone has to be,” you finally turned to him, he was sitting at your desk while you studied on your bed.

“Come here,”

You craved him closer suddenly, wanted to hold him in any way. This feeling often shot you out of nowhere, usually when he was sitting and looking so incredibly pretty (which was a word you found yourself using to describe him more often than not. Smooth skin, soft hair, and brown eyes that you’d always been a sucker for) that you had no option but to crave him.

Edward looked pleased with himself, and you sighed inwardly as you pushed your (unfinished) homework away to make space for him.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

He smirked as he lowered himself to lay by you, and your hand naturally drifted to the side of his waist.

“You’re the one who told me to come here,” he said innocently, with his deep eyes daring you to fall inside the well of them.

“How can I deny you your attention you so desperately crave?”

He smiled, “I don’t ‘desperately crave’ anything,” yet his eyes were playful and he looked seconds away from tossing this playful banter and speaking sad and lovely poetry.

You grinned and came closer, and with every inch removed his eyes got more and more black. Like tar. When your breath could hit his cold lips you spoke, “oh, really?”

He sucked in a breath he doesn’t need and came closer to close the distance, but you leaned back casually.

He looked prettier like this. Desperate, frowning at the rejection of the kisses he’d been spoiled with and now addicted to.

You took pity on him and slid your hand from his waist to go under his shirt, allowing you to stroke the skin there. It was domestic affection, yet he was weak to this too.

“I love you, very much.”

You softened, and leaned in naturally to kiss him. It was slow on your part, loving. But he seemed eager and pushed into you, soon you were laying with him almost sitting on top of you. You pushed at his shoulders lightly.

“Did you just say that so I would kiss you?”

He looked away, “well, I do love you.”

“You’re an idiot. But I love you.”

[acid-ixx]

Now that someone mentioned Connor as a possible love interest I think he will be a good choice. He obviously feels a similar kind of anger at his own father(s) so they could connect thanks to it. And his super hearing and other abilities will make it possible for him to always know when something is wrong with reader. I see reader being in shock that someone wants to be there for them and dismissing any yandere tendencies, toxic traits in favour of keeping Connors attention. Not like they could loose it no matter what they do, Connor is to obsessed and I could see him being dependent on his darling.

a/n: since i am more familiar with the animated series (young justice) for conner kent and i feel your ask is describing his version so i'm basing it off of him! but yes you are so fr in this. i will never not go too far when it comes to rambling, i love long asks hehe.

it was temporarily stated in chapter one that you had your momentary bouts of anger and that in itself already paved its way into conner's heart because of course most would be put off with the rage that he kindles within. you two would really be some sort of match made in heaven— it's like you deeply understand the intensity of his emotion, and you both share that bond nobody could deter; it being anger towards your parent/s and the inability to be accepted or nor noticed/your feelings being invalidated most of the time.

but because of the level of power between you, you being human and him literally being a carbon copy of superman, conner would be incredibly overprotective and possessive of you. and i'm not just implying that he would give anyone within a fifty mile radius a death glare, no, you would literally be glued to his figure all the time.

that means a hand on either your shoulders, your waist, or hips. if you were the shy type, then expect him always holding your hands or wrist. but if you don't mind the weird display of pda, then you'll be lucky enough to have the rights to smother your face in his chest whenever and wherever— sometimes that would even be his go signal to tell anybody off whenever you feel the slightest bit of discomfort.

but other than the advantages of being with him (protective guard dog 24/7), you would pretty much lose every sense of independence nor privacy. which isn't losing much since you already have your mad family on your tail constantly tracking you down and probably a huge bounty on your head— but at least you have your boyfriend with you, right?

with the lack of attention you were given to as a child, one given willingly without the need to ask for is basically a heaven for you. and with his powers? babe, you don't even need to ask for him to take you away to somewhere safer because he could already hear your heartbeats thumping louder and louder.

speaking of superhearing; a way to calm your boyfriend down quickly and efficiently would be laying his head on your chest. you'd probably discover the method later on your relationship, but as much as conner loves to hear your heartbeats from any distance, he loves it all the more when the only barrier that keeps him away from your beating heart would be your skin and your ribcage.

since conner was raised with the lack of physical contact and he's the type to push people away, your physical affection towards him is something he doesn't even know he craves, not until he tastes it for himself.

you wouldn't even feel the need to tell creeps off anymore! because conner is out there intimidating every person who dares to show the slightest bit of romantic intentions towards you.

so really, is it so bad if he wants you all for himself?

you both eventually gain a codependent relationship with each other— but it's not like any of you would leave each other wanting for more, because you both are more than enough for each other.

and conner thinks it's better off if it would only be the two of you in this world.

screw your family.

[kusuwu]

# sfw saiki head canons a/n: first post, requests and anons welcome!

purposely hiding your treasured items in places you will never find them because he knows you will seek him for help.

"kusuo...?" you greet him on the phone in a hushed whisper, embarrassed to be calling him again so soon. you're both aware that all you need to do to get his attention is simply call out to him in your head, but you'd rather do it the old fashioned way (and he liked appearing busy to the people around him so no one would bother him, even though he continues to speak to you via telepathy.)

he just grins to himself, knowing exactly what you needed and why you did. he took your small, soft blanket you've had since you were a child and hid it on mars.

after hearing your explanation he can't help but scrunch up his nose so he doesn't laugh out loud. "of course i'll find your blankie for you," he speaks in his usual monotone voice, one that made you feel uneasy at times like these because you felt like you were bothering him, but he’s really amused that this same old trick had worked yet again.

uses your own thoughts against you, mocking you in a condescending tone whenever he senses the slightest twinge of affection in your heart for him.

saiki's dark pink eyebrows raised as your thoughts filled his head; he looks so handsome today, why am i getting so nervous all of a sudden? we're just friends.

at this point he felt close enough to you to speak out loud when he knew you two were alone, so it didn't surprise him when you let out a surprised gasp when he spoke into your mind.

"you know i can hear you, y/n, right?" he asked, his expression bored as he pretended to watch whatever was playing on the television.

he'll press his chest against your back whenever he wants your attention, especially in public. (will swear to protect you if one of his crazed admirers spot the two of you, overcome with anger and envy.)

depending on how desperate he is, kusuo will either huff dramatically, like a dog wanting to be pet, or even start playfully biting your shoulder.

will go to you on the rare days his powers go past his limit, his telepathy going haywire and forcing him to listen to the thoughts of thousands of people within the entire city. he finds comfort in your warm clothes and gentle heart beat as he desperately clings onto you — you well aware of how much he detests physical contact, so you just let him do whatever made him feel more at ease.

saiki let out a small whimper, his face turning into one of turmoil as his head roars of a crashing sea of thoughts of others. at first he simply leaned his head onto your shoulder, signalling that something was wrong and that he craved your comforting embrace, but when you wrongfully ignored the small act, he couldn't help himself from cuddling into you completely.

he let out a quiet breath as you reassured him that he was okay and that it would soon pass, your voice like an anchor, grounding him in the present moment.

the psychic nuzzled his head of pink hair into your chest, basking in your scent as the smallest things about you made the voices in his head quieter.

he will never hesitate to teleport to you when he can feel your discomfort or sadness, purposely acting out or being silly in an attempt at cheering you up. of course, when you ask why he's being so weird he'll just say he was hyper from all the coffee jelly he's had that morning.

knows your mind inside and out, taking note of your favorite things and surprising you with them later on.

if you beg him enough he’ll shape shift into your favorite animal, and might even let you pet him (which he ends up falling in love with; your gentle hands rubbing into his soft fur, or petting his head while you praise him endlessly.)

secretly being his safe space, his quiet demeanor creating a comfortable atmosphere where the two of you can just sit in silence together and enjoy each other’s presence.