#his sword was thrown away

[draconnet81]

So in the manga, AFO throws Hawks away;

While in the anime, he just lets go of him.

mha _ season 7 _ episode 18 (156)

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Mom called me a shitty roommate today bc after months of her telling me to rent a uhaul (too young to do so) and then flaking out on me whenever I asked her if we could it on x day, I gave up on trying to get my bf's heavy TV and dresser and ordered a mountable tv, instead of buying more storage totes so that I could add to the ever increasing stack of totes in our guest bedroom

[bylertruther]

how i sleep after thinking abt all of my silly little byIer AUs

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

[obufalo]

nightcrawler is such a guy. he's blue. he's mystique's rejected son. he was thrown away from the top of a waterfall as a baby and rescued by circus artists. he has 3 swords, one of which he handles with his tail. he's german. he's a catholic priest. not only he teleports but he does so in a way that has drama to it. he has curly hair. he's the sweetest. i want to hug him.

[beloveds-embrace]

noona. noon. any angsty thoughts to share for the duke au? 👁️ (i’m craving angst sorry)

Original post

I DO!! Angst version of the au would be if you weren’t welcomed at all. Sure, no one is being flat out rude to you, no one is actively sabotaging you and John doesn’t hit or force you into anything.

But it’s lonely.

The maids barely touch you, as if disgusted they have to help and tend to the woman their Duke needed to and not wanted to marry, and the butlers are the same. Especially the head butler Garrick. You still don’t know his first name and he doesn’t seem inclined to tell you.

During the dinner… nights with John, you’ve started noticing that your food isn’t quite as well done as his? Less decorated, occasionally burnt or not cooked well, but you don’t want to cause any trouble so you remain silent and John never asks why you seem to eat so little.

You do also meet Duke Riley, the man that John is said to have an incredibly close friendship with, something born during his time servicing the kingdom. You’ve heard so much about him, from bad to good, and you wonder how he actually is.

In the end, you wish you hadn’t met him, too. The humiliation of being flat-out ignored in your own home while he speaks amicably with John…

So yes. Life as Duchess Price isn’t a happy one, but you are just glad you aren’t physically hurting.

But you do find solace in the only kindness your parents had bothered to show you before they gave you away; your personal knight, König. He is the only one to not treat you as such. He is the only one you can confide in, feel just a little bit of happiness and friendship with even if you haven’t even seen his face yet.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper to him one night, under the blanket of the night sky. You’d thrown a simple shawl over your shoulders, and hadn’t questioned it when he fell in steps behind you, always a protective shadow. Today had been hard. You had also decided to no longer dine with John, not too excited about the lackluster food and the stilted conversations. Cold maids, lonely night… you ached for something more.

You take in a shuddering breath, wrapping the shawl tighter around yourself. Konig stands right beside the bench you are sitting on, a familiar and comforting sight and presence. But tonight, it’s not enough. “I’m so tired, König.” You repeat, your voice cracking.

König simply stares at you for a while; you are used to it, used to everything about him. The mask, the accent, the unyielding body that is always keeping you safe. The quiet congestions you have had, during the days you lock yourself away in your office to ignore the loneliness and sadness plaguing you.

You aren’t used to seeing König bend down in front of you, holding his hands out until you place them in his. Familiar pale eyes peer up at you. Proper etiquette doesn’t matter to you in this moment; who will chastise you for the lack of it when this entire duchy holds only the most basic form of respect for you?

Even if they did, you would not let go of König, your confidant. Your knight.

“…What do you need, mylady?”

After a silent moment, you take in a deep breath and look back at him. “…I want… someone who loves me enough to be kind towards me. I want someone who loves me.”

König nods his head. With bated breath, you watch silently as he brings your hands forward, under his mask, to kiss each knuckle on your hands.

“I am your knight, mylady. I am your sword, and your shield. I, too, can be your lover if that is what you want, mylady. Whatever you desire, it is my duty to provide.” König breathes out against your skin, eyes not once flicking away, words not once breaking. He is fully devoted in his decision. “Will you allow me, mylady? The decision is your, always has been. I cannot take you away from this horrible place-“ not yet. “-but I can give you my love and devotion, just as I’ve always done. Will you allow me, mylady?”

And after everything you’ve been through, all the pain and loneliness and exclusion- you can’t say no.

“…Yes, König.”

(By the time John begins to realize that he may have misjudged you, once you find out the truth, it is already far too late for mending any bridges. There is no particular feeling when you look at him, or any of his men. You only ask that no one bothers your time alone with your shadow, your knight. It’s far too late for anything.)

Part 2 + dukedom au masterlist

[bye-bye-sunbird]

About Little Dove

Character dialogue snippets from Tartaglia, Scaramouche, and Arlecchino discussing Little Dove.

Tartaglia "The Little Dove? Ah, yes... She’s not one of us, and she’s certainly not a fighter. People in Snezhnaya whisper about her like she’s some romantic heroine in a story. They don’t understand. She may seem like a dream, distant and untouchable, but she’s real. She’s just... softer. I guess that’s why I can’t help but be gentle with her, too. You ever meet someone and just know they don’t belong in the world they’ve been thrown into?

Scaramouche "Little Dove? Capitano’s soft, fragile little prize. It’s pathetic how people talk about her like she’s some tragic, romantic figure. They don’t get it. She’s nothing but a prisoner—helpless, weak, completely out of her depth. She’s nothing more than a songbird locked away, meant to be admired but never truly free. Still, there’s something about her that gnaws at you, isn’t there? She’s harmless, sure, but even from a distance, you can tell she’s holding onto something—hope, maybe? Hah... it makes me want to tear it all down, rip apart that façade, and show her the reality of it all.

Arlecchino "Little Dove... Capitano’s pet, his treasure. She doesn’t fight, doesn’t scheme—just sits in the shadow of his protection. Sad, really, but captivating in a way. You see, the true power isn’t in the one wielding the sword, but in the one who controls the person holding it. And she... she’s a master of that without even realizing it. Capitano is revered as an honorable man, his name carries weight on the battlefield, but this obsession of his? It could be his downfall. No one stays a prisoner forever, and if she ever learned how to wield her position... she could be dangerous. But for now, she remains soft, untouched by the polution surrounding her."

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: captive reader, no-name character deaths, Sukuna in general

fem reader

Sukuna, in his true form some thousand years ago, carrying you on his arm so that your feet and dress don’t stain with the blood on the floor. A sea of carnage he’d laid to waste only a moment ago—soldiers sent to slaughter the monster’s concubine, a heathenness whore. They’d fallen no different from flowers trampled underfoot.

It's a tragedy. If anyone could free you from his prison, it would have been them.

A heavy finger catches the tear dribbling down your face before it can fall to join the red below. “Don’t water them with your tears,” he says, bringing the droplet to his lips. “Not even in death do they deserve it.”

You view his second face—the warped array of eyes upon an inhuman mask—as a punishment from the Gods for his vile ways. 

“Did you think I’d find it flattering?” you ask sharply through the sorrow. “Murder in my name?”

Nothing betrays the look in his garnet eyes, nor does the way he holds you. He simply lets you sit there, upon him like a thrown, admonishing him no less—as if he hadn’t just saved your life from a thousand swords.

“I don’t,” you bite out when he doesn’t answer. “It sickens me. I curse whichever part of me attracted such a monster.”

That makes him smile. “I’m afraid that’s all of you, turtledove.” He turns you around in his many arms and lays you to rest like a bride. “From your toes to the finest hair atop your head—I covet it all—like treasure.”

He doesn’t rush while wading through the filth who’d tried to take you away from him, basking in their still-warm blood as if soaking his feet with their failure. He would have made it long-lasting if they’d come close enough to breathe the same air as you. But since you’d begged for him to spare them, he’d acted with mercy—making their deaths quick and all but painless.

The things he does for you.

“Does it frighten you to be the only one I care about?” he asks.

You look disgusted. He finds it rather cute.

 “No,” you reply. “It simply hurts.”

He throws his head back and laughs then—boisterously. The echo rings throughout the temple, even making ripples in the red. When he looks down at you again, he bears a great smile.

“Fine then, as you wish.” Evidence of his amusement remains while he speaks. “I won’t subject you to any more carnage from this moment onward.”

You know better than to take him for his word—especially when that awful grin stretches his face.

“No, I shall rather keep you tucked away where no one will ever dare go looking—and before I even dare come see you myself, I’ll make sure to have washed the filth off first so as not to trouble your pretty head with my savage habits. Now, does that sound satisfactory to you, my Queen?”

He’s mocking you, you surmise—cooing at you, laughing at the way you mourn. But it shouldn’t surprise you. If he can rip people to shreds without so much as batting any of his eyes, making light of their deaths isn’t all that more of an offense.

“All this inanity has given me an appetite,” he states with a hearty sigh—dismissing any further argument. “Let’s find Uraume and eat.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[tiny-space-platypus]

Never really fit back in

aside part 1

(Stories that I just can't get out of my head but don't forget in main plot)

Damian and Danny act like feral fucking cats thrown into an enclosed room together. The others have learned quickly that the boys CAN NOT be left in a room alone together or they'll both end up bloody and bruised. Well Danny will end up blood and Damian will end up bruised. But! If someone else is in the room they are the sweetest brothers to each other. Laughing, jokingly, hell Damian smiles, but once they're alone all hell breaks loose.

It's worse than when Damian used to try and kill Tim. At least then he at least tried to be sneaky about it but with Danny? No, Damian will walk up to Danny and just stab him for no other reason than he can and Danny, Danny just laughs and takes the blade saying something like "it's in me so it's mine now" then going to throw Damian in a choke hold.

At first the family was worried and confused because why the fuck are they so aggressive towards each other?? Yeah the bats all stalked Danny, yeah the bats were almost about to destroy the Masters and Fentons but that's supposedly water under the bridge now. Danny said he wasn't mad at least, he just wanted to spend time with his brother again. SO WHY WE'RE THEY ALWAYS TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER??

Dick was the first to see this happen. Dick was with the boys, Danny and him making stupid jokes, Damian groaning, and they'd laugh. Then he left to grab snacks. Only to run back when he heard something crash, in the 5 minutes he was gone, Danny was impaled with a sword, with multiple batarangs sticking out of him! One was even in his eye!! Damian wasn't looking any better, black eye, split lip, bloody nose, and beaten to hell while Danny held him by the throat dangling him above the ground. Dick screamed and went to pull the boys away from each other which Danny allowed easily. When he asked WHY?? the boys only shrugged. Then began to argue about who kept the sword. Danny says it was in him so he should keep it and Damian saying it's his sword. Dick looked at the both of them and sighed taking the weapons for himself much to the protest of the boys. Now he had a head ache and a long conversation to have later.

Bruce almost had a stroke when he was told about it. He nearly fainted when he did see it for himself. HIS BOYS FOUGHT LIKE THEY WERE GOING TO KILL EACH OTHER. So now they couldn't be left alone together someone always had to make sure they didn't kill each other during their visits. Which is fine the Master's Manor was much more suited for their fights anyways hell maybe they could have their mother come watch them fight. It's been a long time since Danny has seen their mother after all.

The reason: That's the only way they know how to act together. They trained together when they were small and it's still just habit. Plus now that Damian knows none of his weapons can really kill Danny he goes all out to stay sharp, to Danny this is just ghost bonding. Ghosts do love fighting after all. Maybe one day he'll actually go full strength on Damian just for fun, just to see how his weaker, still mostly mortal brother will react. After all none of the bats have ever fought him in his ghost form.

Damian and Danny being left alone for 5 minutes:

[entitled-fangirl]

May I?

Cregan Stark x pregnant!reader

Summary: the Lord of Winterfell had grown too protective- but for fair reason.

Warnings: cursing, talks of labor problems, Cregan freaking the freak out

A/n: based on an ask!

Masterlist

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Cregan couldn't help from letting a large smile crawl up his face.

His pretty wife, now a few months pregnant, walked into the court. 

One of her slender hands rested on her swollen stomach.

The people turned to see what had caused the door to open so swiftly, and when seeing it was their Lady of Winterfell, they relaxed. 

She rounded the table, coming to Cregan. 

He had stood the minute he had seen her figure nearing, and now he was able to wrap his arms around her frame and bury his face into her hair, "Everything alright, pretty?"

She nodded and relaxed against him, "Tired of just staring at the walls."

He frowned and pulled away, "So you've decided to join me in court instead?"

"If you don't mind it."

He chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, "I don't mind it at all. Sit."

…

But now the weeks were beginning to rack up, and Cregan swore he could see her stomach grow more each day.

And along with it was his rising protective instinct.

She couldn't seem to even leave the walls of Winterfell without him looming over her. 

Not that she minded. 

…

He dropped his sword in the middle of his sparring session when he saw her enter the courtyard. 

Even in the cloudy air of the North, she glows. 

She walked slowly, on no mission to get anywhere, and her eyes wandering from place to place. 

Admiring.

He abandoned his sword and partner quickly, walking to her with broad steps. "What are you doing?"

She turned to him as if just realizing he was there. "Oh. Just… on a walk."

"A walk?" He asked with furrowed brows. 

"Yes, I take one every day. It's usually earlier but I lost track of time."

He nodded, looking back to the doors she had come from.

Guarding it was a guard who stared back at them. 

It irked Cregan. 

"I see." He finally said. 

"You've abandoned your training," She pointed out.

"I can hardly find myself caring," he said. "I would hardly be able to do anything with you in my line of sight."

She smiled brightly and he felt his heart shudder at the sight. 

He would do anything to keep a smile on her. 

His mind begin to race at the idea of anything bringing her displeasure. Pain, even. 

Gods, she shouldn't be out here like this. 

"Go back inside," he said as he bit the inside of his cheek.

She hummed lightly, not catching his harsh tone, "I haven't even gotten to speak to-"

"-Go inside, my love." He leaned forward, placing a sweaty kiss to the crown of her head and a hand moving down to rest on her swollen womb. "I will collect you for supper."

"Oh." He tried not to let his heart fall at the sound of her disappointment. "Alright. Supper then." She took his hand from her stomach and kissed his dirt covered knuckles, "Do train hard for me."

He smiled, "You've no idea."

He didn't move until he saw her figure disappear behind the doors.

And the stupid fucking guard that had watched her the entire time. 

"You!" He pointed his sword out to point at him, "C'mere."

The guard's brows raised, but he complied, moving toward Cregan, "Yes, my lord?"

"Draw your sword."

The man paused, "m… my lord?"

"Your sword!" Cregan said with a raised voice.

Cregan tried to tell himself he was doing this for the practice, not for the satisfaction of besting the man who dared look at his wife.

Their swords clashed loudly in the yard, but the man was no match for the Warden of the North. 

He was quickly being outmaneuvered by the Lord who was beginning to release his anger.

His sword was thrown from his hand, and Cregan's foot came up, pushing him to the ground. 

There, Cregan stood over him with his sword to the man's throat. 

Cregan quite enjoyed the view. 

He got down on his knees and leaned down to the man's ear, "Look at my wife like that again, and I'll cut your fucking eyes out."

If the man responded, Cregan didn't notice as he put away his sword and retreated into the walls of Winterfell.

…

The grand maester approached Cregan as he walked down the halls, "My lord. I need to speak with you. About Lady Stark."

He paused in his step and turned himself, "Is she alright?"

"Oh, yes. The check up went well earlier. She is progressing wonderfully. There are just a few things we must clear up, you and I, before she has the child."

"Alright. Name it."

"Not here, my lord. It is… sensitive."

Cregan huffed and walked with him to the maester's quarters, shutting the door behind him. His anxiety began to eat at him.

"Now, I do not believe it will come to it, of course, but the main question is about certain… complications that may show themselves during labor."

"Just ask the question," Cregan growled.

"Right," the maester nervously fidgeted with his hands. "If a problem occurred and we were… unable to… save both…"

Cregan felt his gut roll. He had not considered such a thing. 

"…my lord?"

Cregan's head shot up, "I'm sorry?"

"I asked which would you prefer to… take priority."

An impossible question to ask a husband and father. 

A more impossible question to ask the Warden of the North. 

He needed an heir. The people quite literally demand for one. Someone to carry the bloodline. He wanted a child with her more than anything.

But He needed her. He needed her like air to breathe. In a place like the north where the sun never shined, she made up for it, lighting every room she stepped into. 

A world without either of them was not something he even wanted to think of. 

He had welcomed this new change of the child the second she had told him. 

To think, something could so easily take her from him. 

And he would be helpless to it.

He felt bile rise in his throat.

…

"You're to take Dark Shadow with you when you leave Winterfell from now on."

She paused mid-bite over her plate, "W… Why?"

"I…" he dropped his fork with a loud clatter as he leaned back in his chair in frustration. "You're to do it."

"I love him, but I don't want a dire wolf with me. Scares the others away-"

"-Even better!"

"That is my reason for leaving the walls. To speak to the people."

Cregan grunted, "Not right now."

"Nothing will happen to me out there, Cregan-"

"-Yes, I will make sure of that."

She stopped herself and took a long and deep breath, "I do not understand. Why?"

"Because I commanded it!"

Silence filled the dining hall as the two stared at one another. 

Her small voice broke it, "You have such little faith in me that I cannot grow our child?"

"What?" His voice softened. "Wh- No. No. I did not say that."

"You did!" She stood from the table, "You do, Cregan! You do not believe I can do this for us. For you." Hot tears began to flood her eyes, "So concerned with an heir, you do not even trust in your wife!"

His form didn't move until she was far from the dining hall.

…

Three days since their argument, and Cregan was beginning to feel the dread consuming him. 

Prince Jacaeys Velaryon had arrived yesterday, giving Cregan a much needed distraction from it all.

He opened his eyes, looking over to her form in bed as he always did.

But she wasn't there.

He sat up quickly, noting that the sheets were cold as well, meaning she had been gone a while.

Since the pregnancy, she had never awaken before him. 

He let out a grunt and quickly dressed himself.

Cregan practically ran down the halls until he found one of her servants, "Where is my wife?"

Her eyes widen, "Out, my lord."

His jaw clenched and his voice lowered, "Out where?"

"W… With the prince, my lord."

He shifted his weight to his other foot and leaned his head down to her. He felt bad, but he couldn't help the harsh gaze he studied her with, "To where, exactly?"

"She… she made me swear not to tell you, my lord."

Cregan felt as if he could rip her arms off, "You'll tell me anyway."

"I am loyal to her, my lord."

He wanted to be enraged at that, he really did. But he admired that about the servant. He let out a sigh and let his voice return to its usual timbre, "Point me in a direction then?"

She nodded, "Perhaps meeting a… pet… or sorts?"

No. 

No. No. No. No.

He immediately moved his feet, running at a fast pace down the hall.

No. No. No.

He barely registered voices or concerned glances as he ran to where he knew she'd be. 

…

Jace smiled as he ran a hand over Vermax's scales near his nose. "Dare to try?" He asked over his shoulder. 

The very pregnant Lady of Winterfell bit her lip with a smile, "You really think he'll let me?"

Jace turned to her completely now, "Vermax trusts me. And I trust you. Therefore, I don't see why he'd refuse."

It was Jace's idea, to introduce her to Vermax. She seemed fascinated with the dragon when he arrived. 

That, and obtaining the favor of the wife of the Warden you hope will supply your mother with an army wouldn't be a terrible thing, either. 

She stepped forward, one hand out in front of her and the other over her stomach. 

Jace muttered calming words of Valyrian to the dragon as she did so.

Her fingers were inches from the great dragon's hide when a voice rang out, "Do. Not."

Cregan stood a few yards back, panting harshly.

Vermax's head immediately moved to want to see the source of the sound, and she had to quickly back up to avoid being knocked over by the beast's large head. 

Jace's hand shot out and steadied her as he looked to Cregan, "Careful with your words, my lord."

Cregan couldn't describe it all. 

Horrified. Nervous. Protective. In awe. 

Staring at the girl, seeing his entire future in front of him. 

"Please," he whispered out as his gaze softened. "Please be careful."

Jace noted the man's softened brow, "She's safe, my lord. Vermax is young, but quite full of love."

She stared at Cregan still, her head tilted, "May I still…?" 

She let the question hang in the air.

He couldn't let anything happen to her.

He wanted to refuse. Drag her back to the walls and lock her away. Shake her until she saw reason. 

But he had been denying her everything. And doing so again could be just as dangerous to her as petting a dragon. 

He nodded just barely, not trusting his voice again. 

Her eyes lit up and her voice was soft, "Thank you."

She turned to the beast again, and her hand reached out as before, her other on her stomach. 

Cregan noted the hand on her stomach, a protective gesture over the life that she carried in her. 

Each slow step was like a dagger being twisted in his chest. 

Her hand reached the scales, smoothing over them.

And the dragon lets out a low purr.

A bright smile comes to her face and she looks back to Cregan. 

His arms are out, as if ready to catch her and shield her from dragon fire. 

He can't even enjoy the moment through his pure adrenaline. 

Jace smiles as well, "I do believe Vermax likes you."

Cregan finally spoke softly, "Who could not?"

…

The door to their chambers shut and Cregan turned from them to her, "I hate to be angry with you. Let us be done with it entirely."

"That easily?" She asked as she pulled at her dress. 

"I do not doubt your ability to carry our child. You do it so… beautifully." He rubs a hand over his face, "I am a proper fool for ever making you believe differently."

"No. I understand your concern for me, love. I should have respected your wishes."

He crossed the room and grabbed her hands, "No. I…" he paused in thought. "It's not about having heirs, pretty. I care for our child. I do," he leans his head down to catch her gaze, "But I care for your wellbeing all the more."

She couldn't stop the small smile that pulled at her lips, "Perhaps we may compromise."

He grinned, "A compromise?" He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. 

"You missed."

He leaned back, "Oh?" He raised a brow, "Did I?"

She grabbed his chin, pulling him down to her, "You did."

Their lips connected, gently but firm. 

"Foolish man," she spoke against his lips.

He chuckled, "Pretty girl."

...............................................................

[gay-dorito-dust]

Part two is right here

You were with Alyssane when the doors burst open and could only watch as a bloodied and bruised Benji was being held up in the arms of two other boys, who were also bruised and bloodied but not nearly to the extent that Benjicot was.

This type of scenario happens far too often at this point for you to feel anything but exasperation at who had pissed Benji off to the point of no return, for Benjicot Blackwood was a short fuse disguised as a awkward, shy but honest to god good man, and everyone in the realm knew that the devil himself runs away in fear when a good man goes to war.

‘What happened this time?’ Alyssane asked, just as unfazed by this predicament as you were as she crossed her arms over her chest, while the two men holding Benji up shared a look between themselves before looking back at yourself and Alyssane.

‘There were some Brackens-‘

‘Here we go.’ You whispered under your breath, finding yourself already foreseeing how this interaction with their rival house might’ve went down; they crossed paths, started provoking each other, swords being drawn and fists being thrown as the accumulated testosterone between the rivalling houses chokes the air.

‘-and they said something to Benji that made him madder then I’ve ever seen him.’ The boy with the pale hair on benji’s left continued recounting the story as the the boy on Benji’s right, a boy with chestnut hair and slight facial hummed in agreement as he shifted Ben’s arm on his shoulder when he felt the young lord slipping from his grip. ‘Yeah and after beating them with an inch of their lives, he wouldn’t tell us what those Bracken bastards said.’

You looked closely at Benji, feeling your heart wretch as you watched his eyes try their best to focus on something before they fell on you, and suddenly he was smiling as though he was trying to reassure that he wasn’t hurt that bad; acting as though he wasn’t currently on the verge of collapse. You hated how much his sweet side affected you to the point your dreaming about it for weeks on end knowing that it was fruitless to ask for more.

You may have gotten use to Benji getting into fights but you will never be use to seeing him hurt, you’d rather he be safe and unharmed but that seems like too much of an ask even for him; despite how many times he’s promised you that he’d be careful only to come back bruised knuckles, bloodied faced and looking as though he fought a bear and won.

‘I’m fine.’ Benji slurred as he tried to stand up and walk a few paces forward, just for his legs to have out beneath him as the floor rushed up to meet him, but you managed to run across the hall to catch him in your arms. ‘Gods you’re heavy.’ You groaned as you wrestled one of his arms over your shoulder as he lent most of his weight against you, trying your hardest not to let the smell of cedar wood get the best of you.

‘I did it for you.’ Ben murmured incoherently.

‘What?’ You asked, feeling as little overexposed by the eyes of his aunt and the two boys who dragged him in here as they dig into you.

‘I did it for you.’ He said again a little louder this time. ‘I did it for you and I’d do it all over again for you to prove just how important you are to me.’ Benjicot adds with a dopey smile as he closes his eyes and the rest of his weight has your knees close to buckling underneath you, however the urge to know what he meant by that and how it correlates to beating the Brackens black and blue gave you the strength to keep him upright as you looked over at Alyssane, who looked at you both with a knowing look in her eye.

‘I’ll go fetch a Maester and I’ll trust that you y/n will get him up to his room.’ She says before leaving the hall and you to ponder whether or not you were being pranked right now, for as you went to look for the two boys behind you for help, only to find that they had seemingly disappeared into thin air.

‘You’ve got a lot of explaining to do when you wake up Blackwood.’ You said to no one in particular as you began the long journey to Benji’s room.

[sundew199]

The comfort of you

Tags: zoro x f!reader, fluff

Zoro loves watching you sleep, loves watching the way your guard falls easily when you’re alone with him, like the only source of comfort is his presence. He considers it an honor to know you feel safe and comfortable enough to sleep, even more so when he finds out you force yourself to stay awake around others. He smiles to himself when he traces your soft cheek with his finger, how your brows twitch at the touch, pulling a soft laugh from him.

You sleep so deeply on his chest, a trail of drool beginning at the corner of your mouth, never quite reaching his own skin. Zoro refuses to sleep when you do, his mind racing with thoughts as he looks at you. How pretty you are, how kind and accepting, how you fell for him of all people. That part is still a mystery, remembering how closed off and brash he was to you at first, honed in on his goal. But his heart kept pulling you to him, like a magnet in the vicinity of the opposite pole, stretching to connect.

Zoro often wonders of the life he can give you outside of piracy, when his life long goals have been met, when he succeeds in aiding his captain in his. Will you still want to be with him? Would you consider a slow normal life where he could teach the art of the sword to young minds? Would your love inflame or dwindle now that thrill of life on the sea was over?

He likes to think it won’t, but he’s never been sure, he can’t place all his eggs into one basket, even if he yearns to. All he wants is to grow old together, tell stories to the students that’ll learn from him or maybe even the children he’ll give you. He’d like that actually, a couple of copies of you and him, something he was once so adamantly against, but you had such an odd way of softening his hard nos.

His mind races with possibilities when he watches you sleep, the good and the bad. There are things he wants to tell you that dance in his mind but fear of jinxing it if he says it out loud. Like how he wants to seal his love for you in a ceremony, make you his wife and let the world know that the famed pirate hunter now vice captain of the straw hat pirates has a heart softened by only you. Or how he wants to end his night with you in a home over tea and sake, let you lean back into his chest and you watch the sun set over the sea and the wind rustle the cherry blossoms.

Zoro allows himself to feel when you sleep on or next to him, feel how your beating heart synchs with his and how real you are against him. His life is filled with uncertainty that is almost certain, but he never questions you or the lengths he would go to ensure you’re in his life till the end. Zoro can’t imagine you not rolling over in bed to greet him with a kiss, whether on the sunny or the home he brings you too after this adventure has closed.

Anticipation for a future with you is so sweet, so sought after by him that he has to remind himself to cherish each day, because he knows he’ll miss the lapping waves outside of his cabin on the sunny as you curl into his chest, resting up for whatever the crew gets into on the next island they’ll land at. He’ll miss the way you’ll drag him away from a party thrown by their captain for a private kiss or two, pressing you to the wall with a bottle of sake in his hand or yours, drunkenly giggling as your lips find each others. He’ll miss the way you smile at him when he joins you in Nami’s orchard, forcing you to nap under the sun with him. But he also can’t wait for the quiet slow life of just you and him and a possible family.

Watching you sleep and envisioning the future has become so dear to him, he just can’t bring himself to close his eye and join you, making up for the lack of sleep during the day. He sees everything he wants with you in the content expression on your face, tracing your features with a calloused finger and dotting your moonlit skin in feather light kisses.

“I love you.”

Is what he says into your ear as he settles in finally beside you, his body no longer able to stay awake like he wants. Carefully adjusting you so you’re heart will beat on top of his, lulling him into a dream that he can’t wait to have, knowing it’ll be filled with your bright smile and warm eyes, pulling him along to wherever the future with you holds, hoping to experience it outside of his mind one day soon.

[fromduck]

No Glory

(Yandere Gladiator x Empress Reader x Yandere Emperor)

Summary: There is no glory in seeing your lover in the arms of another.

(Tw: Gore, Violence, Forced Relationship)

A/N: Guess who watched Gladiator II, hehe 🤭

-unedited-

-The Emperor’s wife is an untainted beauty.

-Despite the blood and death on his hands, the Empress remains pure from his sins.

-With soft luscious lips and unblemished skin, kind doe eyes a beautiful color.

-Draped in white robes, with gold accents. White Gold jewelry adorning her frame. Pearls hanging from her ears and entwined in her hair.

-She has a beautiful smile and kind eyes. Willing to choose mercy over shedding blood.

-Unlike her cruel husband who relishes in it.

-Anyone blessed to be within her radius marvel at her presence. Even more so when she smiles. Be careful not to stare too long, the Emperor’s watching.

-The Empress is beauty incarnate a being coveted by all people. Adored by the citizens of Rome and boasted as the most beautiful woman in the world.

-And the Emperor is a lucky man. A lucky man indeed.

-There are whispers of her divinity and where the Empress hails from.

-Some say she was given to Rome to the Emperor as a gift from the Gods.

-Others argue that she herself is a Goddess who willingly married their glorious Emperor.

-None know the Empress’ origins.

-Except for two people.

-The brutal Emperor of Rome.

-And a Gladiator who knows too much for his own good.

-A man who waits for the next fight he’ll be thrown in. Where he’ll be fighting for his life.

-For the delight and entertainment of others.

-His life matters not, it never did.

-Yet, when he wakes up, when he trains for his fights, and when he goes to sleep. He thinks of you. He lives for you.

-He knows the truth.

-You don’t belong to the Empire of Rome. Or that bastard Emperor.

-You belong to him.

-You were his long ago. When he wasn’t a war broken man torn by the cruelty of others.

-In a land far away from Rome, you both once lived together at peace.

-He’d been a gentle man once. Someone who pined after you in your youths, who’d begged your father for your hand, and had cried when he married you.

-He loves you so much.

-He had never been one for religion but if there were any gods out there, he thanked them sincerely for the life they gave him. One with you.

-Then the Romans came. And they took everything.

-They came with a hunger for blood and conquest. Ready to plunder their lands and take over them.

- They killed his family, his friends, people he had known.

-They did it with bloodthirsty grins. And the one who led them was the cruel Roman Emperor who lived for the violence.

-He killed many while on his black stallion. His sword plunging into innocent people.

-Man or woman, the Emperor didn’t care. He demanded blood and blood he would get.

-It was horrifying the strength of the Emperor as he slaughtered those around him.

- Your husband watched as he committed atrocities.

-There was no mistake, with that monster there, his and your home would be overtaken.

-Him taken a slave to fight in the pits of violence at the Colosseum.

-And you made a slave, owned by someone as an object.

-No. he wouldn’t let that happen.

-Now all he had left was you. And he would die before anyone touched you.

-So he prepared his stallion, picked up your precious form and placed you on the horse. You looked at him with worried eyes, tears slipping down your soft cheeks.

-He’d only look at you with loving eyes. Cupping your lovely face in his large hands.

-He remembered your look of worry as you questioned where would you both go. Your sweet gentle eyes pleading as you made him promise to never leave your side.

-He promised that not even death would separate you both.

-Then, he’d been clubbed upside the head. Pushed to the floor as someone began beating him with an inch of his life. He tried to get up but then another one had shown up with club and struck him in the head.

-Both Roman soldiers jeered as they continued their violent onslaught. He’d almost seen double.

-But what stood out to him was your anguished face.

-Your shrill cries of agony rang out through the air as the love of your life was beaten to a messy pulp.

-The stallion had jumped, and pushed you off of its massive body.

-You tumbled to the floor, hitting your back violently.

-With no regard for any injury, you’d quickly jumped up and tried to stop the cruel soldiers from killing your love.

-You’d shove at them yelling out for them to stop. Though to no effect as your smaller form was no match for the might guards of the Roman Army.

-One of them had only sneered at you before delivering a backhand to your face.

-You fell on your side, your nose bleeding from the impact.

-You quickly got up and clung to a guards leg as you begged for them to spare your husband.

-They ignored you and continued their onslaught.

-Until the galloping of hooves.

-There the Emperor was like a sign of death as he rode his gigantic black stallion.

-Blood coated his face and armor. None of it his.

-The war was over, Rome’s victory assured.

-And yet the Emperor was left unsatisfied.

-So he went on the prowl for more victims. All until no one was left.

-He caught sight of his soldiers torturing a large man as his wife begged them to stop.

-Any honorable leader would have stopped his soldiers and given the couple a swift merciful death. No more suffering was needed from a war already won.

-But he was far from honorable.

-As he approached it wasn’t because he wanted to stop the violence.

-He was honed in on the soft crying and pleading of the woman.

-A sound so delightful that he couldn’t help but want to hear more.

-He got off of his mighty horse. His steps confident.

-But as you turned around to face him, he felt his breathe hitch, his steps waver.

-It was as if he was in the presence of Aphrodite herself.

-There you were with tears in your big eyes and blood dripping down your nose.

-Even in filthy peasant clothes, you were the most beautiful being he had ever laid his eyes on.

-He had to had you. And have you he will.

-His eyes narrowed at your injured face. The soldiers most likely the culprit.

- “Stop.” He commands, his word alone enough to halt the violence.

-With a sob you run to your husband as he lay on the floor. You place his head on your lap. Ripping a piece of fabric from your dress, to clean the blood on his face.

-Your poor husband looks at you with swollen eyes, barely focused. Your heart broke further.

-The two soldiers quickly turn around. Sinking onto their knees to properly greet the Emperor of Rome.

“My emperor.” They say in union.

-They cower under the glare of the Emperor.

-“Which one of you hurt the girl?”

-Both soldiers look at each other confused. He wasn’t taking about the sobbing girl behind them, was he? The enemy?

-The Emperor’s glare becomes murderous. He draws his sword from his scabbard. It glints with the blood of his foes. But all know that his sword can just as easily kill who he pleases, friend or foe.

-It was at that moment, both the soldiers knew that whoever was guilty— they would be dead in the next second.

-So, both blamed each other, scrambling to have the Emperor believe them.

-“It was him my emperor, he was the one who hurt the girl—-”

-“Nay my emperor, he lies—”

-Both soldiers plead their innocence. But the Emperor isn’t known for his patience.

-With a brutal slash, he beheads the two soldiers.

-Their heads roll off their bodies.

-A huff of satisfaction leaves the emperor, soldiers who lie are not worthy of his army. He may not be honorable but he has no patience for lying snakes.

-He averts his gaze, to you, only to be met with a puddle of blood. Presumably your husband’s.

-The emperor snaps his head to your quiet sobs. He sees you dragging the large form of your husband, his arm over your shoulder, his feet dragging against floor.

-You both were trying to escape, this wouldn’t do.

-With large strides, he rips you away from your lover. The man falling gracelessly onto the floor. He tries to pick himself up but his strength is diminished. He could only watch as the Emperor, holds your hands and stares into your beautiful eyes in awe.

-He knows that look. That look of adoration as if in the presence of a goddess.

-Your husband holds the same look for you and now the Emperor does too.

-You try to escape but the Emperor’s grip is painfully tight.

-A whimper escapes your lips as the man gets down on his knees, his head bowed. He mimics the same loyalty his subjects would show him. But he is in the presence of a goddess.

- “The Gods have rewarded me by giving you to me.” He whispers breathlessly. “You are the one they have chosen for me. Rome needs an Empress. And I need a wife.”

-With the hunger of a man starved he yanks you down to him, grabbing you by the hair and devouring you into a brutal kiss.

-You cry out into the kiss, looking at your husband pleadingly to save you from the Emperor.

-But your husband is at death’s door, fighting and pleading Hades to not take him. For he couldn’t leave you to such a grim fate.

-The Emperor pulls away, his eyes filled with lust. He’ll have you, but not here in this filth.

-He picks you up a bridal style, taking you to his horse. Taking you to Rome.

-You try to fight him, but he only gives you a scolding glare. As if to say, ‘behave.’

-You cry quietly, looking at your husband’s dying form. The Emperor only sneers at him, spitting on his bloodied face.

-Your husband looks at the Emperor with rage. A rage that makes him shakily get up on his knees.

-Your hands are tied behind the Emperor’s neck, begging him to let you go. A smack to your thigh makes you shut your mouth.

-Once you’re both secured on the horse, the Emperor doesn’t even glance back at him.

-He rides off into the distance, with the blood of his people on his hands and the love of his life in tears.

-Your husband, a broken man, lets out a sorrowful scream. He promptly collapses onto his side, passing out. Pleading with the gods to not take him. He needed to save you.

-Later, he was dragged by his feet. Slave masters had found him. They bet on how much money the large man could make them.

-Him, a none violent man, was put into fighting rings were people placed bets on who would win.

-Your husband, a gentle man was turned into a former shell of himself with each blood shed that coated his hands.

-A man who once held you with tender hands was forced to use them to kill for the entertainment of others.

-He fought weaker men, stronger men, and terrific beasts. All who were in the same position as him. All for the entertainment of others.

-The life he was forced into would have broken others, but not him. Not when he was fueled by an anger. An anger for the Emperor who had taken everything from him.

-The hesitance he once had for killing became nonexistent with each fight. His worth as a slave becoming more and more valuable. And he was taken to more and more valuable places.

-Like a blood thirsty hound, he followed you. He was at the edge of death many times, yet he refused to part from you.

-He followed you to Rome, vengeful and angry. Many times he thought he’d die but once he made it to the grand city, he knew the Gods had given him another chance.

-He needed to be stronger for you. So that he would save you.

-His reputation as a vicious fighter spread throughout Rome. Many eager to see him in the Colosseum.

-And that’s where they took him.

-Now he stands in the arena, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Blood splattered on his face and armor. None of it his.

-There is no glory where he stands while his defeated opponents lay bleeding on the ground.

-There is no glory in the screams and cheers from the crowds. All chanting his name as he stands as the last man standing.

-There is no glory in his victories, where he gets to live another day.

-His eyes shift to where you sit in the grand seats of the Colosseum. You’re beautiful with your beautiful gown and jewelry. Yet you look at him with such sadness. As if he were another dream out of reach.

-His soft eyes harden when a firm hand grabs your soft one.

-The Emperor brings your hand to his lips, kissing it ardently.

-He doesn’t break eye contact with him as he does this. A clear claim of ownership over you.

-He grits his teeth.

-There is no glory when you’re trapped with that despicable man. There is no glory when you’re not his. There is no glory when the Emperor is still breathing.

-He returns the Emperor’s glare. Eyes hard with pure hatred and loathing.

-And for that, the Emperor must die.

[suhtorus]

strawberry shortcake. fushiguro toji

fluff. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ parents au, family fluff, unnamed two-year-old baby girl. tsumiki is 6 and megumi is 4, prob too silly and ooc

little sunshines au

"look at her."

tsumiki and megumi tilt their heads to the side, questioning their dad's sanity. surely something must be wrong with him because why does he look so annoyed at their baby sister?

little megumi—still with question marks all over his head—frowns, ready to defend the baby. but he's interrupted by your coos.

"I knooow, isn't she the cutest!?" you grin while lifting her in the air, her little pink shoes matching her strawberry shortcake overalls.

"ridiculous." you're about to scold your husband when suddenly, his scowl turns into a grin, "ridiculously adorable. I'll eat you!"

her squeals have the puppies' ears perking up, watching toji grab his daughter and blowing raspberries on her cheek. the two dogs decide it's none of their business and go back to licking their paws.

"daddy, noooo!" her tiny hands try to keep her dad's mouth away, his kisses on her cheeks tickling. "'miki! 'gumi!"

her cries of help are answered by little megumi, who quickly dashes towards his baby sister, ready to aid her against his dad's attack.

"monster!"

with a mischievous little smirk, megumi kicks toji's shin.

"what was that for!?"

toji looks down at the troublemaker, furrowing his brows but the ghost of a smirk on his lips. the toddler giggles happily in his arms, momentarily getting his attention back on her.

not happy with having his threats ignored, megumi places his hand on the hilt of his toy sword.

"leave baby alone."

"or what?" toji smirks, clearly amused at his son's reaction.

your daughter gasps before bursting into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth with her tiny hands as megumi points his sword at toji.

"you'll die."

your husband blinks, thrown off guard by his son's behavior

"okay, samurai, put the sword down." you sigh, equally as weirded out as your husband but can't help but laugh at megumi's serious tone, "and you, give me my daughter."

back in your arms, your toddler seems happy as a clam with all the attention on her little self, tsumiki and megumi entertaining her by kissing her cheeks.

but when toji takes a step forward, he's stopped by megumi's stare, your son's lips curling up into a little smirk.

"you can leave now, monster."

[thewritetofreespeech]

pairing: Gwayne x fiancé reader

summary: Gwayne may have lost the tourney, but he gained a better prize.

tags: female reader, reader is from the Reach, heterosexual relationship, hand job, mentions of injury, subtle Gwayne daddy issues (not sexy, just Gwayne being Gwayne), Gwayne being a simp for his lady

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When Gwayne told his father one day, at about the age of six, that he was going to take up the sword and learn to be a knight, all his father said was, “are you sure?”

His opinion on the announcement did not seem to sway one way or another, much like his opinion on the actual son. Their lady mother had given him an heir, a spare, a daughter, and Gwayne. His brothers would be learned men like their father, so Gwayne thought he could be useful by being a marshal man for his family. He was actually quite good at it too. All of his instructors said so. His training partners. The men of their House bannermen.

But no one would know that now as Gwayne was quickly unseated in the first round of the tournament. A lucky shot. Luckier still as it could have been fatal, but instead just a wound to his left side and pride. To fall in front of his father and beloved sister wounded him still.

Gwayne had taken what was left of his pride and limped off the tourney grounds. Making it to an awaiting sick bay as injuries in tournaments were more common than not. He had to be stripped out of his armor like a pleb. Been tended to like an invalid while he grit his teeth and let the maester wrap his broken ribs. Just the one, actually. But it was enough to knock him out of the tournament for the rest of the week.

He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. All he wanted was to show his family that his efforts had not been in vain. To show them what he was working so hard for while they were in the Capital. Now he would have to wait for the next tournament. If his father even bothered to show up.

“Gwayne?” The knight looked up from his self-pity musing at the door and found his fiancé there. In his pain and grief over his disappointing show, he had completely forgotten she had been in the crowd too. Wonderful. Another beloved to witness his failure. “Are you alright? That fall…it looked rather nasty…”

“It wasn’t ideal.” He winced as he tried to move his arm to pull his shirt on. Finding it immodest to be in just bandages in front of a lady. She came to his side instantly, helping him pull his arm through with as little discomfort as possible. “Sorry you came all this way to witness such a poor showing. Or waste your favor.”

“It is not a waste Gwayne. Do not say such things.”

Gwayne reached in his pocket and pulled her ribbon from his trousers. She had given it to him the night before, in private, wishing him good fortune & safety in the events to come. He had had it in his breastplate when the games started, and squirrel it away into his pocket after he was injured so it wouldn’t be thrown away. “You should give it to a better knight then I. I’m done for.”

“You fell off a horse Gwayne, not the edge of the world.” She told him. “And, there is no better knight than you for me.” She pushed her offered ribbon back at him with a stern look. “If you keep speaking this way, I shall have to give back your favor and return to the Reach.”

His eyes lit up in alarm. Knowing that she meant his ring, and he could not have that. “Alright. I’m sorry.” To lose the tournament was one thing, but to lose her. Gwayne couldn’t stand it.

She smiled at him. Seeming pleased that he had gotten the hint on not being so hard on himself, and looked around quickly before she leaned in for a kiss. “I know you’re disappointed. But you’re alive and relatively unscathed.”

“And handsome.” He quipped back as he was starting to feel in good spirits. “Do not forget that.”

“Oh, how could I.” His beguiling fiancé leaned in to kiss him again. Longer this time. “Thank the Gods for fine helmets.”

It took Gwayne’s brain a bit to catch on that her hands were moving around his waist band. Perhaps it was the loss of air from their kissing. Or that his bell got run pretty hard in the fall and he was still recovering. Or perhaps still it was simply just her. But he caught on just about the time the cool air brushed against his nether regions, and he sprung up. “What are you doing?” He asked. His back teeth setting against the pain of his sudden movement as he fretfully looked over towards the door.

“Helping you relax.” She replied with some cheek. “I heard the maesters say you needed to do that and rest if you were to heal.”

“And you think undressing me in a room where just anyone could walk in is going to help me relax??”

“Well, no. Perhaps not that part.” Gwayne wheezed in a breath, as much as his battered ribs would allow, when she reached in and took hold of him. “But this part might.”

Gwayne knew not the touch of another, save his own hand. Though he took no vow like the King’s Guard when he became a knight, he had made a personal vow that he would be stalwart in his honor & practice. Dutiful to his House as to not sully it by laying Flowers at their doors. He does not ask how his future wife knew of such things. In all honesty, he did not want to know. All he could think about in that moment, after the shock and panic of getting caught, was how good her soft hand felt around his cock.

His member hardened quickly under her touch. Gwayne was still a young, virile man, with adrenaline still lingering in his veins, a strong breeze could get him up. He moaned quietly as his lady’s hand stroked him. Long steady pulls of her hand up & down. Watching as he was transfixed by this surreal experience that was happening to him.

“Does it feel good my love?” Gwayne nodded. His lord’s education failing him as he could not articulate in this moment how good it felt. “Good. I want to know how you like it, so I can prepare for our wedding night.” He moaned, or perhaps whimpered, at the thought. Just another 3 months. Just another 3 months and she would be his wife, and he would have her all to himself. Her body, her mind, her heart; though she had been clear that he already had the latter two. His hips bucked up at the thought of her beneath him and Gwayne let out a sharp cry that was crossed between one of pleasure & pain as his ribs were jostled again. Then he heard a flurry of scurried motion behind the door.

Panick set in, the fear of getting caught welling up inside him. Not just for himself but her as well. How would they explain such lewd behavior if they were caught? Her reputation would be besmirched. His father might call off the engagement in the face of such scandal!

Luckily his wife to be was not only beautiful but clever. Like all fine roses of the Reach. She quickly pulled a blanket over his midsection and placed their hands together over the spot where the obvious tenting would be. “Forgive me, my lady. I thought I heard his lordship call for help.”

“Such a steward of care you are, Maester Callen.” Her voice was sweet, complimentary, and hypnotic to Gwayne. “Just a twinge of the ribs from a sudden movement. The injury is new. Our silly Ser must have forgotten he had it for a moment.” Gwayne swallowed as her little finger brushed against the outline of him through the blankets. His jaw having to set as to not moan in a very indiscrete way in from of the maester.

“Are you sure he is alright?” Maester Callen asked. A curious look all men of learning seemed to get when they asked questions. “Your lordship looks feverish. There could be an underlying infection from the trauma—“I’m fine.” Gwayne barked quickly. His noble resolve hanging on by a thread thinner than this blanket. “I just need rest, as you said. Please,” ‘oh Gods, please, please, please!’ he thought as his lady continued to stroke him with just the finest touch to the point of madness this whole time, “leave us so I might finish my conversation with my lady and be about that.”

The maester seemed still curious, but asked no further questions. He bowed his head, then closed the door behind him as he left. “Good Gods….!” Gwayne hissed through his teeth as he writhed freely now that they were alone again.

“That was a close one.”

“You insufferable minx!” He hissed at her. That cheeky grin on her face was infuriating but also the vision from his dreams. “You nearly got us caught!”

“I’m not the one who inadvertently called him in here, now did I my love?” Gwayne had a few more sharp words for her but they all vanished as her hand pulled back the blanket again and stroked him fully.

His head tilted back with a moan. The fear of almost being caught, damning though it would be, had only heightened the sensation. He warned her that he was close, not sure if she knew what that meant, and let her swallow his final moans in a kiss as he came all over her hand and his linen dressings. She let him go, a soft kiss on his lips like a seal before she pulled away, and he slumped back against the bed like a witless fool.

“There. Now you can relax & rest completely, my love.” Gwayne nodded. Not sure what she was talking about right now, but rest sounded nice right now. “I shall come to see you tomorrow once they move you back to your quarters. We’ll have the whole afternoon to ourselves, since everyone will at the tournament.” Oh right. The tournament. He was supposed to apart of that. Showing his family & father how much he had trained for them. It suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore. “Get better, my love.”

She kissed him one last time and then saw herself out. The picture of civility and the dutiful fiancé come to shower well wishes on her mate to be. No one knew, or would know, what had happened between them. Gwayne felt his spent cock twitch a little as he watched her walk away. Just 3 more months. Just 3 more months felt like an eternity all of a sudden.