#other emperors come around and keep him company!

[keyslox]

little headcanon that the glitchy vision thing that happened to Pix during the dragon fight is a reoccurrence afterwards and sometime the episodes last a couple hours/days/ect…

[multific]

The Lady Who Was Promised

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: Ever since he was little he had everything at his fingertips. So, when his parents promised him a lady, he had to have her no matter what.

As a young man, Geta understood that one day he and his brother would be Emperors. He knew what that meant, power.

When his father came up to him one day, telling him that he would have a wife one day, a lady who was promised to him, Geta hated the idea.

He didn't want a wife.

But then, as the years passed, Caracalla and he became Emperors, and he suddenly realized, he wanted this lady.

She was his after all.

She was promised to him.

And he liked to keep the things he had.

And so, word was sent out, soldiers were sent out to find the bride of the Emperor.

You were raised to be the perfect wife.

You were meant to be the wife of a Lord or King.

So, it came as no surprise when your father announced that you were promised to the new Emperors.

At the time he wasn't sure which one of the twins.

But later you learned his name, Geta.

You even saw him one time although he didn't notice you in the crowd.

He looked tall and handsome.

But he was insane.

You only heard one sentence from his mouth and you already knew, he was a cruel man.

You did not wish to be his wife.

But you had no other choice.

You knew that.

As the years passed, you found it strange you didn't hear about your marriage anymore.

The Emperors soon came into power.

You assumed the Emperor might have forgotten about you.

Then one day, three guards knocked on your door.

Your parents passed away a few months ago due to illness, you were alone.

"The Emperors requested your presence." there it was. Your past coming back to haunt you.

With no other choice, you were taken to the palace.

You were dressed in a wedding gown and soon, you stood by Emperor Geta vowing your life to him.

---

Your marriage with the Emperor became a clear desire for possession.

He wanted to have you, had to have you.

And so he did.

You were a pretty thing on his arm. That is all you were.

And somehow, you were okay with that.

It could be worse because even if your husband didn't like you, and only spoke to you in words instead of sentences, at the end of the day, you were still the Empress.

You could live in your old home, alone and cold.

This was at least interesting.

Parties and gladiator games.

You enjoyed most of those, even if you weren't a huge fan of blood.

And at least your husband was handsome.

You could have worse things to look at during dinner.

Caracalla on the other hand was rather chatty with you. He constantly keeps you entertained with his silly theories.

You knew of his sickness.

You felt truly bad for him, probably it was why you were nice to him.

Seeing how he behaved like a child, you had an instinct in you.

"You seem to enjoy my brother's company more than mine," Geta said to you one evening when he happened to have a cup more than he should have.

"He simply talks more with me." you replied and you watched his eyes. He got angry. "I wish you would talk more with me, Emperor Geta." you quickly said with a sad voice.

Now that changed everything.

His anger dissolved in seconds. You offered him a smile.

"I wish I could be your wife instead of an accessory." you added quickly before standing up. "Good night." you nodded your head and headed back to your room.

Little did you know what you had just done.

Your words stuck with the Emperor so much, that he was unable to sleep. He kept thinking.

You weren't a statue, vase or jewellery. Not a sword.

You were a lady.

His lady.

His wife.

The realization hit him like a cold shower.

The next morning he barged out of his room, scaring the servants.

"Where's my wife?" he asked.

"In the garden, she is on her daily walk." one of the servants replied.

Daily?

Geta didn't even know you took daily walks.

He quickly walked to the garden and there you were, alone, looking at the flowers and butterflies.

"Wife?" he called for you and you turned around rather surprised to see him. He usually slept until late after parties.

"Emperor." you bowed your head and he stopped close to you. He opened and closed his mouth.

He looked rather awkward.

As if he was unsure of what to say or do. Which was weird for him.

Seeing him like that reminded you of something your teachers told you.

"Men are usually clueless. You must lead them. But don't let them figure out you are leading them."

So, you took a deep breath.

"Hope you are doing well this morning."

"I didn't sleep. Your words kept me up all night."

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to hurt you."

"But you were right. You are my wife, I should be spending time with you. So, here I am." he looked around. "Which one is your favourite?" you blinked once, twice.

"I quite enjoy the roses." you ended up saying. "The white ones specifically."

"Oh, which one would be... the rose?"

You let out a small laugh at his expression. Geta smiled. Seeing you laugh, he hoped it was a good sign.

---

Geta and you grew closer and closer with each passing day.

You would go as far as to say you fell in love with him.

You might also know when it happened.

Probably it was the time when he made the gardens only have white roses for you.

"It is your favourite after all," he said with a smile as you looked around confused.

Or when he personally made sure the cooks prepared the food you liked the most.

"How dare you! You know well she doesn't like that kind of food! Cook her something else! Right now!"

Or when he had new clothes made for you along with beautiful jewellery made of gorgeous gems.

"This one has sapphires in it." he said as he held up a beautiful bracelet. "I'm told ladies enjoy this due to its beautiful colour." you looked at the blue gem.

"It is truly beautiful."

"Maybe, but your beauty will never be overshadowed by gems and clothes."

It could have also been when you were cold one evening. You couldn't sleep and walked around the palace, hoping to warm up.

You ran into him.

"What's wrong? You should be asleep."

"I'm cold." you replied with a small voice. He grabbed your hand and followed you back to your room.

He put a blanket over the two of you and pulled you close. You fell asleep to the voice of his heartbeat.

But it was possibly the time when he kissed you so sweetly under the moonlight.

"My beautiful wife." he whispered as his finger ran down your cheek with such love and care.

He slowly leaned in and sealed your lips in a kiss.

You finally felt like his wife.

And that is exactly who you were, his beloved wife.

The Empress who was promised.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ineffectualdemon]

(AO3 link)

Shang Qinghua arrived back to Cang Qiong and headed to report to the Sect Leader only to find himself pulled into an impromptu meeting with his fellow Peak Lords.

With a noticeable absence and more notably addition. 

"Zhangmen-shixiong, may this one inquire as to what is happening?" He asked nervously as he the yelling from his fellow peak lords explained nothing and Luo Binghe stood still with his arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight, but silent.

"Lord Luo seems to think we have hidden Shen-shixiong away," Yue Qingyuan replied with confusion clouding his eyes.

"Which is nonsense! Qingqiu is sitting in the next room plain as day!" Liu Qingge shouted, one hand on the hilt of his sword the other pointing to a side room.

"And as this Lord has explained that thing is not Shizun." Luo Binghe replied with the slow carefulness that precedes great violence.

"We all here have seen and spoken to Shen-shixiong daily while Lord Luo was dealing with demon matters this past week. We have seen nothing amiss. Maybe he just tires of your company." Qi Qingqi really liked digging the knife in which was a huge mistake.

Shang Qinghua watched Luo Binghe's hand clench his fist tighter as his demon mark grew in brilliance.

"Alright thats enough! I can confidently prove whether or not Shen Qingqiu has been replaced!" He said loudly, his casual tone cutting through the noise and tension better then the volume.

Before he could think better of it Shang Qinghua walked briskly over to the side room and walked inside, shutting the door behind him.

Hardly any time at all passed before he was back in the room, the door closed firmly shut behind him and sealing and silencing talismans stuck to the outside.

"Shen Qingqiu has been replaced." He stated firmly. The room went eerily quiet and Luo Binghe, thought not smiling, relaxed as his posture took on an amused lilt.

"How can Shang-Shixiong be so sure?" Someone spluttered.

"He said I was his closest friend." Shang Qinghua said grimly.

"...but you are?" Liu Qingge said, his eyebrows tight as if he was puzzling over paperwork.

And he was right. Everyone knew Shang Qinghua was Shen Qingqiu's closest friend and confidant. Something that pissed off and confused everyone close to Shen Qingqiu to some degree. 

Shang Qinghua huffed.

"Of course I am! I know that! You know that! Everyone knows that! Even Shen Qingqiu knows that! But would he ever say it?"

That got everyone to pause.

No.

No he wouldn't.

Potentially not even on pain of death.

"Then what is it and where is Shizun?" Luo Binghe demanded, pushing past Liu Qingge who just mad a disgruntled sound.

"This one's guess? It's a Cuckoo Spirit. They're a type of dream demon. They hunt by reading the inner thoughts of their victim and replicating their mannerisms and behaviours as closely as they can based on dreams and so on. They then keep their victim asleep and assume their life. Feeding off both them and the people around them. This one guesses Qian Cao has had a lot of people on Qing Jing come down with fevers or are strangely lethargic recently." Shang Qinghua turned his attention away from Luo Binghe at this last and directed it as Mu Qingfang who looked troubled. 

"For the last three days. And four days ago Shen-shixiong complained of feeling tired when we had tea, but his meridians seemed clear. The imposter also stood up to scrutiny when this one examined him." Mu Qingfang explained.

Shang Qinghua nodded.

"Did Mu-shidi feel ill after the exam at all?" Shang Qinghua asked, even as he pushed past the sect leader and the demon emperor to pull out paper and ink and start scribbling quickly. 

"...yes actually, a headache." Mu Qingfang quickly crossed to join Shang Qinghu, tension tight in his frame.

"It used it's abilities to change your memory and perception." Shang Qinghua looked to his upset Shidi and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. 

"Don't be too upset with yourself Shidi! They are very dangerous creatures and extremely rare. The most important thing is Shen-shixiong is still alive. They can only maintain form if they still have a living connection." Shang Qinghua turned to look at Luo Binghe who had joined him on his other side.

"Meng Mo agrees and is impressed with your knowledge, he wouldn't have guessed or caught a Cuckoo. He thought his clan had wiped them out. He actually seemed afraid of them." Luo Binghe was still tense but knowing his Shizun was still alive was keeping him together. But it wasn't a surprised that the dream demon feared the creature. They had a terrifying ability, to make dream illusions work in the waking world. 

Their original feeding grounds were the dream demon clans, because who was easier to fool then those who were always half in a dream? 

In PIDW he had meant their inclusion to be a real horror movie moment but also a chance for character growth as Luo Binghe was forced to contend with something that shattered his confidence in his dream magic and made him face reality. 

In practice it was used to make a recent wife who was married "for political reasons" admit she actually did love her husband and wanted his pillar. 

Maybe Bingmei didn't need to know that. 

"If it hadn't flubbed so bad I wouldn't have caught it." Shang Qinghua admitted to distract himself before picking up his papers and turning around.

"Right. First off we must find Shen Qingqiu. Junshang? You search for disturbances in the dream realm. Something that feels off. But do not attempt to interact with it yet! Just use that to help us locate Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge? Mu-shidi? I need you to get these ingredients and turn it into an incense. Everyone else search every cave and grotto and outbuilding on this mountain to find Shen Qingqiu. If you find him do not touch him! We must break the bond first and we have to do that quickly before it realises we know. Right now this one has told it that Luo Binghe is unstable and we need to confine "Shen Qingqiu" for his own protection. It objected like Shen-shixiong would but not strong enough." Shang Qinghua was a little surprised they just let him take charge like that but Yue Qingyuan nodded.

"That Shang-shidi left the room on his own two feet after suggesting such a thing and Shen-shidi didn't break down the door and take Lord Luo and leave is even more proof than it calling Shang Qinghua its closest friend." Yue Qingyuan kindly pointed out for Luo Binghe's benefit, who was looking a little murderous. 

After that things moved swiftly. Shen Qingqiu was found in an old storage room on Qing Jing with help from Luo Binghe. One plastered with talismans to block the Emperor from tracking his blood.

Once the sleeping Shen Qingqiu breathed in enough of the cure to break the demon's hold dispatched the thing quickly, while the smoke from the same incense kept it from using its normal tricks to escape.

Shen Qingqiu once awake and finally devoid of a crying Demon Lord, due to said Demon Lord baking something, asked to speak to Shang Qinghua.

"Binghe said you convinced everyone but didn't say how." Shen Qingqiu, looking pale but mostly alright, asked.

"I walked in and asked if it knew who I was and 'you' rolled your eyes and said: 'um my best friend? Who else would you be you dumb hack author!' and I immediately knew because you'd never admit that." 

Somehow Shen Qingqiu looked more ill that before Shang Qinghua explained.

"Ew? Why would it so that? Bro no offense but I would rather kick in you in a well of dead fish then say we're friends." 

A different man would be offended but Shang Qinghua just chuckled. That's his tsundere Cucumber Bro! 

"I know bro "

Shen Qingqiu shifted in his seat at that, like what he said left a sour taste in his mouth and sand in his shorts.

"You're not..." Shen Qingqiu started before hiding behind his fan, "You're not not my best friend though." 

Shang Qinghua blinked at him before tearing up.

"Bro!'

"NOPE! I NEVER SAID ANYTHING!"

"You love bro!"

"I HATE YOU!" 

Shang Qinghua smiled as Shen Qingqiu loudly protested their friendship while also nudging his favourite treats towards him.

Ah, friendship was sweet when it was with your number one anti fan! 

[jobean12-blog]

With Every Breath

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: When the unthinkable happens, Marcus is there, and he'll protect you and keep you safe with his very last breath.

Author's Note: The new trailer gave me some more ideas so I wanted to do something where Marcus has to come to your rescue and kick ass. I know it appears to be the exact opposite from what we've seen, but everyone is friends here in this little world- Lucius, Marcus etc haha because that means no one has to die! YAY! LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness and fluff, mentions of blood and violence because Marcus has to take care of things, soft fluffersmut, lots of love and romance bc we love our soft Marcus

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“General Acacius.”

His dark eyes stay fixed on the far corner of the room and he’s oblivious to the call of his name.

“General,” Macrinus repeats with a grin.

It takes him a moment before he can speak and with a sigh, Marcus turns and stares pointedly at Macrinus.

“The emperor wishes to speak with you,” Macrinus informs him. “And you know how he loves to be kept waiting.”

At the wry comment Marcus’ lips tilt upwards. “I shall see to my stunning wife first.”

“Of course,” Macrinus answers, following Marcus’ line of sight as he turns his gaze back to you.

He moves silently across the stone floor, his eyes drinking in every soft curve of your body and his hands twitching with the need to touch you.

Stepping behind you, he taps you on your bare shoulder, grazing his fingertip down along your arm. You’re soft and smooth, and he loves the way goose bumps spread along your skin.

“General,” you purr as you press yourself against his side, flattening your palm to his chest.

“You look magnificent,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. “The stars will be jealous of you tonight.”

You meet his eyes, the lines around them soft, and brush your fingers through his beard.

“Always the romantic,” you whisper. “If you weren’t holding me up I might swoon.”

He smiles widely at your teasing and reaches for your hand, lifting your knuckles to his lips and kissing each softly before he asks, “dance with me?”

Placing his hand at the small of your back, he guides you to a dimly lit corner and pulls your body flush to his. You move slowly, lost in the feel of him so warm and close. His hands wander as much as is acceptable under the eyes of your current company, but as the moments pass you can sense his reserve slipping.

“Meet me by the library,” he whispers.

“Marcus,” you admonish softly. “We cannot leave.”

“You know the spot,” he says and then kisses the corner of your mouth, bowing in thanks for the dance.

The sound of conversation fades as he steps out of the crowded space into the grand hallway. He moves slowly toward the library, nodding to the occasional servant that rushes by him.

He waits, feeling as if every sound he makes echoes out into the hallway, his footfalls slapping along the stone as he pretends to peruse the books.

Too long after he left you, the sound of soft and swishing fabric builds, and he watches the shape of you appear at the entrance. You cross the room, eyes on his as you slowly close the distance between you.

You pause with just inches left separating you and with no hesitation grab his shoulders and pull him to your lips.

The move makes him moan, eyes fluttering closed as you open your mouth to him and tilt your head. One hand grips your breast and the other digs into your hip. He walks you backward, tugging at your dressings.

Your pulse beats wildly in your throat and he kisses the spot, sucking on your skin until you’re arching against him with plea of his name.

His hand slips under the draped material of your dress, calloused skin rough along your delicate inner thigh and just before he reaches he reaches the spot you need him most you hear the frantic calls of one of the servants.

“I swear to…” Marcus starts, and you cover his lips with your finger.

“General Acacius,” the servant calls again, this time his voice closer, louder.

You hold Marcus’ gaze, and his fingers dig into your thigh, his restraint hanging on by a thread.

Finally, and with a pained expression, he removes his hand and carefully fixes your dress. When he steps back the servant appears at the entrance, his eyes searching the darkness.

“General,” he says in a rushed breath, “I apologize, but this is urgent.”

The young man looks away from Marcus’ intense stare and you take your husbands face in your hands and bring his eyes back to you.

“Go. I will be waiting for you when you return.”

His jaw is tight and his teeth grind. “Tonight.” I will have you, my wife. Over and over again.”

He seals the whispered promise with a kiss, lips lingering until he can dally no longer, and he stalks off toward the grand hall.

His words with the emperor drag on and he quickly grows more impatient. But when the emperor starts motioning to the map sprawled out on the table, one of his advisors rushes into the room unannounced.

All eyes turn to the newcomer, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“General Acacius,” the man says. “Please. Come with me.”

Marcus does nothing to hide his dissatisfaction and takes a menacing step closer to the advisor.

“Whatever it is, I will see to it tomorrow. I am already late to meet my wife.”

At the mention of you the advisor swallows hard and the slight tremble to his hands is hard to miss.

Marcus’ frown deepens and his body goes taut.

“SPEAK!” Marcus shouts.

“Lucius. He asks you to come at once,” the man squeaks.

The double doors swing open simultaneously and with a heavy bang as Marcus barrels through them, his frantic eyes searching the room for Lucius.

“They took her,” Lucius states from just beyond the door.

Marcus nearly crumples to his knees as the words register.

“How? When?” Marcus chokes out.

“I do not know,” Lucius says quietly. “But I was informed by one of ours that she went shortly after she returned to the banquet.”

“I’m going to kill every last one of them,” Marcus growls out.

“You and I both General,” Lucius agrees.

Marcus draws the dark hood over his head and secures his sword at his side.

“We move quietly and quickly,” he says to Lucius. “I will see that she is safe before all else.”

Lucius nods his understanding and falls into step next to Marcus as their silent feet carry them down the dark corridor.

The sound of laughter and snickering grows louder as the two men creep further into the shadows but when your raspy and defiant shouts take over Marcus tenses and quickens his pace.

Lucius lays a strong hand on Marcus’ arm.

“Do not rush into this without your head General. You know what the rebels are capable of.”

For a brief moment, Lucius sees a flash of vulnerability that is masked by Marcus’ stoic and determined expression.

“She is strong. She is smart. You know she expects you to come for her.”

Lucius’ words are a brief balm to the fire of rage burning in Marcus’ heart and he takes a calming breath.

“Get her to safety and you can paint the walls with their blood.”

“I will revel in it,” Marcus replies.

A small fire glows in the center of the stone room and six men sit around it, their shoulders relaxed and their faces flush from warmth.

Marcus sees you slumped against the far wall, your skin bruised and bloodied and your clothing torn.

His chest heaves with his barely controlled and ragged breathing and his knuckles turn white from the grip he has on his sword.

“They will go for her. They will kill her without mercy,” Lucius warns.

Marcus’ lip curls and he bares his teeth.

“They will not lay another hand on her before I have their heads.”

With a silent exchange Marcus and Lucius split apart and stealthily advance on the unsuspecting group.

Their shadows grow tall against the stone and before the rebel men can react, Lucius and Marcus are upon them.

The fire is snuffed out and heavy footfalls echo before the sound of clashing swords and screams fill the air.

You lay yourself down low to the ground, out of the way of swinging swords and stabbing knives. You hear Marcus’ voice boom over the chaos, and you hold onto it, waiting.

A strong and familiar hand wraps gently around your arm and you are lifted to your feet.

“Marcus,” you whisper.

“Beloved,” he says, nearly choking on the words. “Can you walk?”

The sound of battle still surrounds you and you cling to Marcus, answering him with a soft, “yes.”

Lucius appears at your side and grabs you around the waist. “Come,” he says delicately. “I will lead you to safety.”

“Marcus,” you call out, not wanting to leave him.

“Go,” he says, “I will find you soon.”

As Lucius leads you toward the exit he grabs a torch from the wall and lights it with the embers left from the fire. The room illuminates and you get a glimpse of the five bodies that lie bleeding their life onto the stone.

A sixth, however, still moves and you watch Marcus advance.

“Come,” Lucius urges again but you struggle and keep your eyes on Marcus.

“You do not need to see this,” Lucius whispers.

With reluctance you lean against Lucius’ side and walk with him.

The last man, the leader of the rebel group, stands hunched over against the wall, his arm cradled along his side where he bleeds from a wound.

“I will make sure to draw out your death. Slow and painful,” Marcus hisses. “How dare you lay a finger on what is mine.”

The man’s lips curl back in a snarl, and he smiles with bloodied teeth. “I would have laid much more than a finger on her if I had the chance.”

The words barely leave the man’s mouth before Marcus’ hidden knife plunges into his thigh. The man screams out in agony and falls to his knees.

“I will remind you with every drop of blood that seeps from your pitiful body that you will never again have the honor to even look upon her beauty, let alone touch her.”

The further you move from Marcus, the louder the cries of pain from the rebel become and you finally allow your body to relax. Your brain fogs and you start to fade from consciousness, slumping against Lucius’ strong hold.

“Where is she?” Marcus roars. “Where is my wife?”

Lucius knows the anger is not directed at him and he meets Marcus toe to toe in the middle of the room. Marcus has stripped himself of most of his armor, but the blood of his enemies still paints his skin.

“She is here. She is safe General.”

Although they’re the words he wants to hear, Marcus’ body still thrums with unbridled fury.

“I want everyone out. Now!”

Lucius nods and motions to the young ladies that have been tending to you. They bow and Marcus thanks them with a tilt of his head but before Lucius can step out Marcus grabs his shoulder with a firm hold.

“You have my eternal gratitude,” Marcus chokes out.

Lucius crosses his arm over his chest and gently bends at the waist.

“General,” he says quietly before walking out.

With a deep inhale Marcus moves aside the lush fabric that surrounds your shared bed and glances at your resting form. The court ladies have cleaned and dressed your wounds, and you seem to breathe evenly.

He carefully sits on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on your hip, his voice shaky when he whispers your name.

Your eyes open slowly and at the sight of him you smile. He captures your hand and presses it to his heart, letting the first tear roll down his cheek to land warm and wet on your skin.

“Marcus,” you whisper, flexing your fingers into his chest.

He starts to speak but the words get caught in his throat and you see the muscles work with his hard swallow.

“I know,” you whisper.

Your hand falls to his arm, and you trace your nails lightly along the corded muscle as it shifts under your touch.

When you start to sit up he wraps a strong hand around your nape and pulls you to his chest, holding you there gently as you rest your face in the crook of his neck.

“My love,” he breathes, lips brushing your temple. “I am sorry.”

You lift your face to his, gently cradling his jaw and sweeping your thumb along his cheek.

“Marcus. You have nothing to be sorry for. You saved me.”

He bows his head, unable to bear the steadfast love you hold in your eyes. But you don’t allow it and tip his chin up, watching as another tear slides down his face.

You sweep it away and pull him closer. You look him over with tender eyes, noting the dried blood, and reach for the wet cloth at your bedside. Your hands work slowly and gently as you wipe his skin clean.

 Then you take his face in your hands, lips feather light as they glide over his, and whisper, “I love you.”

The simple uttering is all that you can say before he kisses you and as with all real emotions, there is immeasurably more left inside that what comes out in words.

You feel the air slide under the linens and sweep over your skin as he climbs into the bed, his warmth and scent cocooning you and filling you with instinctive yearning.

His arms circle around you and his heart pounds under your palm. Warm lips press to your forehead before he kisses one cheek and then the other, brushing his nose along your jaw on his way to your ear.

“I do not want to cause you any more pain.”  

“Marcus,” you whisper. “You are here. There is no more pain. I need you.”

His eyes find yours, searching your face from under the fallen curls over his brow, the silver light of the moon highlighting the creases of worry.

“Please,” you say softly.

He tilts your head back with his hand on your jaw, smoothing it down the delicate curve of your neck, strong but gentle.

You push away his tunic, pressing your fingers to his firm, warm skin, his abdomen spasming when you scratch your nails over his ribs, and down, to the soft trail of dark hair that always tempts your hands lower.

His hands smooth over your skin, his eyes watching your face as his fingertips linger on each bruise and cut he finds.

He teases between your legs, finding you more than ready, and when he pushes a finger inside you, it’s slow, as if he’s feeling every inch of you.

“Is this…?” he starts to ask in a whisper.

“Marcus,” you moan. “More. Please.”

His other hand gently massages your breast as he pushes a second finger inside you, and the world fades away to these two points of sensation and then shrinks further as his words of love heat your skin.

Your hips push up and you beg him for more, already close to release but needing to feel him inside you when you fall apart.

With slow movements, intentionally gentle, he rocks into you. Calloused hands drift down your sides, clutching your hips, and his lips press to every inch of your skin he can find, whispering more words of praise and love.

There’s no space between your bodies, nothing but the black of night spread across you both like a velvet blanket, and the intensity of it makes your breath catch in your throat.

His voice shakes and he slides his hand up to your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin at the hollow of your throat.

He follows the path back down again, tracing the curve of your thigh, and moving between your legs, his broad fingertip circling and pressing.

“That’s it my love,” he says roughly.

Your orgasm rushes through you and you cry out his name, arching against him as he fills you up, hips rutting rhythmically.

When you collapse, pliant and spent, he catches you, cradling your head to his chest, and you hear the heavy thud of his heart.

He rolls you onto your back, careful with every movement, and slides back into you, watching your face with clear, serious eyes.

“I will never get enough of you,” he murmurs.

[absurdthirst]

Serving the General {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Mentions of servants/slaves, mentions of war, mentions of blood/injuries, washing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, power imbalance, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum eating, oral sex (male and female receiving), analingus, anal fingering, cock riding, slight breast play, hurt/comfort

Comments: Coming back from battle, Roman general Marcus Acacius has you waiting for him. Serving him to clean his wounds and soothe his soul with your body.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The sounds of the battle are muted, the tent you are in is far from the front lines. Smoke from the fires being tended by servants and slaves alike is heavy in the air. You can almost forget the clashing of swords and the sounds of the catapults being launched against the fortified town. The clanking of steel and screams barely rise above the crackling of burning wood and the rustle of fabrics as men and women move throughout the camp. 

You aren’t rushed. The large cauldron in front of the tent has already been filled by others, hot and ready for when the general returns. If he returns. Your face doesn’t show the worry that you carry, the fear that one day the man that you are serving won’t return. 

The heavily carpeting floors of the tent are luxurious. The furniture better than some would have in their homes, carted from one encampment to another, providing comfort and a sense of home for the high ranking and lauded general. He has been honored by the emperor, by Rome, with servants and treasures, riches bought by the cleverness of his war tactics and the strength of his sword. 

The tub has been brought in, soaps and perfumes set out at the ready for his return. Wine and food will be brought in, other servants retreating so that you can care for the general in private, as was his custom after returning from battle. 

Waiting is the worst part. Pacing around the large tent, wearing the simple silk gown that he prefers you in. Your sandals are nothing more than a quiet whisper over the threads of the ornate fabric, hauled in from the east. The jewelry on your body displays your elevated status. You are not a slave and are more than a servant, but you are not a wife. You are Marcus Acacius’s mistress and his constant companion. 

Marcus grunts as he stumbles through the encampment towards his tent. He had suffered a few swipes and bruises during the battle but he emerged victorious. He is eager to sink into a bath before he sinks into you. You will be waiting and that makes his battle hard fought. He imagines coming back to you, your sweet, relieved smile, and he fights harder. He will kill whoever he needs to to make it back to you. He cannot marry you. You aren’t of his status. Below a plebeian, you are not eligible to marry but he keeps you by his side. Selfish, he supposes, but you’re his lifeline. Long ago he lost his first wife who died in childbirth along with his son and he vowed to never marry again. He enjoys your company and he loves you in his own way but he still mourns his childhood love. He locates his tent and pushes the linen aside to stumble inside, his eyes immediately finding you.

“Marcus!” You rush over to him, throwing your arms around him. When it is the two of you, you are allowed to be emotional, to show him how you feel. Sometimes you think that he prefers that over being in the company of others and having to hide your emotions. His arms around you are strong and exhausted, the battle long and brutal. You pull back and frown when you see a cut on his cheek, his temple, the blood of others on his skin mixed with the dirt and sweat. “Let me tend to you.” You coo, fingers reaching for the ties of his armor. His nod is weary and you don’t call for anyone to help you, wanting to serve him yourself. His wounds fussed over and cleaned by your hands and his aches and pains soothed by your body.

He nods, unable to pretend that he isn’t battle worn and exhausted. He wants to relinquish his body to your touch. You work diligently to remove his armor and he’s soon left in his bloodied tunic while you guide him over to the steaming bath. You remove his tunic and he’s not ashamed to be half hard, his body running on adrenaline and the idea of being inside you again. “Come on, General. Get in.” You demand softly and he hisses when he steps into the water. “Too hot?” You ask and he shakes his head, “no. No. I'm just - too old for this.” He sighs as he sits down in the water.

There is gray in his hair and lines on his face, but he is still strong and healthy. A lifetime of war has worn him down and you know that he is tired of the constant battle for lands that Rome seems to be fighting. “You will feel better once you are clean, well fed and fucked.” You murmur, reaching for the cup of wine you had poured and pressing it into his hand before you pick up the cloth and soap.

Marcus closes his eyes as you start to wash him, “every day more men die. Fathers, brothers, sons. There’s nothing I can do except battle onward for the Emperor’s orders. How many men must die at my hand?” He whispers, hating how torn he is while fulfilling the oath he made to the emperor.

You understand the frustrations that Marcus feels. He sees the death and destruction that war has wrought, the emperor only seeing the glory of Rome in the crimson red of the blood spilt. The cloth swipes away the dirt and washes the blood clean, but you know that it will continue to stain his soul. Every bite of his sword into flesh weighing heavily on his mind and heart. “As many as it takes for you to live.” You murmur softly, keeping your touch gentle when you see a bruise near his ribs where his armor had saved his life. “You save your men with your tactics and your presence in battle beside them. If you were to fall, the army of Rome would suffer.” 

Marcus knows that what you are saying is correct but he can’t help but feel hopeless as he tries to reconcile the losses on the battlefield, knowing he will be delivering the news of their deaths to their families upon arrival back in Rome. “And the Emperor would fall.” He whispers, knowing that even saying that is blasphemy.

You don’t say anything, knowing that you shouldn’t have even heard those words being spoken from his lips. You move to his face and carefully clean up the cuts, blowing on the wounds when he winces. “Drink your wine.” You urge him. “I will refill your cup when it’s dry.” 

He grabs the goblet, taking a large gulp of wine and he hisses when you rub into his neck where he has his worst injury. “Nearly chopped my fucking head off but I managed to dodge it.” He admits nonchalantly like the violence doesn’t bother him anymore.

You want to lean in to kiss the wound, but it will need to be sewn up first but it can wait for now. “You are lucky that it did not end up that way.” You wring out the water and dab at it again. “I will get it closed for you and the paste put on it after you rest.” You promise, even though you know that he doesn’t care about scars. A lifetime as a soldier, his body is a roadmap of battles and injuries. 

He downs the rest of his wine, setting the goblet down as he looks at you with those dark eyes. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. “Have I told you how beautiful you look?” He asks softly, wanting a moment to let you know how much he appreciates you.

Your eyes slide down, slightly embarrassed by his words. You know that he desires you, every time he touches you it’s with a rough devotion. He brands you with his touch. You look back up to find him watching you still. “I always want to please you.” You murmur softly. 

Marcus tuts, reaching up with wet fingers to grip your chin. “It’s not all about pleasing me. I want to please you. I wish I could give you more. Give you all of me but there are pieces that are lost. I no longer own those pieces to give to you.” He confesses like you don’t know this. “And society-” You add but he scoffs, “fuck society. Noblemen still die. No one is above the gods. I do not care about society. I simply wish to protect you.” He admits, “if I die…” He says and you open your mouth but his dark look stops you from speaking. “If I die, you must return to Rome. Atticus promises me he will make sure you return unharmed and there you will find my domus and you will remain there with my coin until the day we are joined in death.”

You don’t want to think about a life without him. You have been with Marcus for too many years. Your heart belongs to him. “I think that if you were to die, I would follow not too long behind you.” You admit softly, reaching out to cover his heart with your hand. “My heart is yours, just like my body.” You know that he cares for you, he has made that obvious even if he could not give you everything. 

Marcus offers you a rare smile, one that is only reserved for you, and his heart thumps when you assure him that you love him, that you are his. “Even so, I want to make sure you are protected and looked after in my absence.” He says as he reaches for your hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “Wash me, mea columba.” He orders, wanting to wash the battle from his skin.

You nod, picking up the rag again and and you are thorough, washing his feet and then sliding the cloth up his thighs. “You survived.” You remind him, biting your lip as your fingers inch up. You know that he is half hard under the water, already thinking about how he is going to take you. He always does, after every battle, he comes back to this tent and works out the rest of his adrenaline on your body, leaving you a sweaty, cum filled mess on his bed. “Now you get the spoils of war.”

He chuckles, reaching for the decanter of wine to pour himself another glass. “You are my spoils of war? My gold? My treasure?” He smirks as your fingers trail up his thigh while you wash him. “Corculum.” He murmurs, watching you with rapture as you lean over the tub, “I want you.”

“You have me.” You promise him, leaning back and reaching for the gold hoop that holds up the delicate folds of your silk dress. It’s an ingenious design, slip the hoop from around your neck and the front of your dress falls, revealing your tits to him. You stand and let the dress fall to the floor and are completely naked under the thin dress. 

Marcus’s eyes trail along your body. You take his breath away every time he sees your figure. “Bella.” He murmurs, calling you beautiful. He wonders sometimes how he is worthy of touching you after his hands have taken so many lives. “Let me finish washing. I want to be clean when I’m inside you.” He declares, reaching for the cloth.

You watch him just as eagerly as he had watched you. Water cascading down his broad body as he stands to wash his cock. Watching him harden under your gaze and you know that he is eager to take you. “Bella.” you murmur softly, repeating the same endearment. While you can never call Marcus yours in any kind of social setting, you know that the general seeks out your company above those that would gladly throw themselves at the powerful man. 

He washes quickly, making sure he is clean, and he steps out of the tub. Water dripping from his body as his cock throbs for you. He wastes no time reaching for your body, pulling you up against him as he surges forward to crash his lips to yours.

A man of Marcus’s experience has a strong appetite. For food and wine, for sex. He knows exactly how he wants to pleasure you and take his pleasure from you. You give in to him and melt under the force of his lips, wrapping your arms around him and moaning when he picks you up and carries you the few steps to the bed to lay you down. 

He cannot be soft now. He will be later when he's fucked the adrenaline out but for now, he slides his fingers through your cunt. Pleased when he finds you wet enough to take him, and he positions his cock to push into you in one thrust, his body covering yours.

Your cry is silent, mouth open on a scream that could not be heard. Cunt clenching down around him while your fingernails dig into the meat of his shoulders. Filled with him until you cannot think of anything else but the way that his cock drills into you. “Marcus.” You gasp out when you finally catch your breath. 

Your gasps makes him smirk and he grabs your wrists, keeping them together in one of his large hands so he can keep you still. He starts to rock into you, a harsh pace, unrelenting and unwilling to give you time to breathe when he so desperately needs to assure himself that he is alive.

You love the way he needs you. Driving into you again and again with sharp snaps of his hips. You take it, every thrust that has you gasping and moaning. Your body trembling under the force of his need. He needs more, he needs everything and you whimper his name again and again, watching the way his jaw clenches and tights above you. 

He grunts as he pushes into you over and over. He's relentless, wanting to lose himself in you. An orgasm is the only time his mind goes blank. He doesn't get drunk enough to forget the cries of the men he has killed. He squeezes your wrists in his hand as he rams into you. "Fuck you are so tight." He hisses, bending down to bite on your neck.

You shiver when he bites down on your flesh, moaning as he fucks you. The bed groans and sways under the force of his thrusts. “Marc- Marcus.” You pant out raggedly, pushing your legs up on his hips, and wanting more from him. You turn your head, kissing his temple over and over again. “I love you.” 

He can't say it back, the memory of his wife and child haunting him so much that he could never allow himself to love again, but with you...he is close to that feeling. He grunts out a soft noise, pushing into you and feeling your body absorb the brunt of his thrusts. "Shit." He hisses, getting closer and the adrenaline surges as he pants out your name.

He never says the words, but you don’t take offense. You know about his wife, his child that he had lost. The pain and suffering that he endured until you had come into his life. Becoming his comfort. “Yes.” You whimper. “I -” You cry out, stiffening underneath him as your body lights up in pleasure, driven to that peak by the rough way he loves you. 

He hisses when you clamp down on his cock, making him struggle to push into you but he manages, thrusting a half dozen more times until he’s spilling against your walls. “Fuckkkk.” He pants, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead on yours, his mind blissfully blank.

You whimper his name, rocking your hips as he slows his thrusts until he collapses into you. Lifting a leg up over his hips, you hold him closer even as he holds your hands. He will release you when he’s ready and you can stroke and soothe his skin for the rest of the night if that is your wish. “My general.” You murmur softly. 

Your voice soothes him, keeps the horrors of his mind at bay. He breathes in the oils you bathe yourself in and he presses a soft kiss to your neck, letting you know how he feels about you without saying a word. You hum, running your fingers through his hair and he grunts, letting go of your wrists. He shifts rolling over so you are on top of him and his soft cock slips out of you. “Sit on my face, corculum.” He orders, wanting to hear your cries of his name.

He is greedy tonight. You know that he doesn't care that his seed drips out of your cunt, wanting to indulge in his pleasures. He is filthy when he wants to prolong the night and make your voice hoarse with crying out his name. The soldiers around his tent will hear every scream and cry, smirking when you emerge from the tent in the morning and carrying tales of their general’s virility to the campfires as they boast as if it was their own cock being used. Leaning down, you press your lips to his before your thighs frame his head and you wait for the first swipe of his tongue. 

He groans at the creamy mess he’s left between your thighs and he hisses, lifting his head so he can slide his tongue through your folds. He’s desperate to make you cum for him on his tongue. His calloused hands grab your ass to pull you down onto his face, wanting to be suffocated by you.

The first gasp of his name is loud, your hips rolling at the gentle pressure of his hands on your ass. Dragging your cunt over his face, his beard becoming drenched in a mixture of your juices and his moans of pleasure being absorbed into your body. Marcus has always been a very giving lover, wanting to hear your cries of pleasure to drown out the screams of pain and death that echo in his ears. “Marcus!” 

Your scream makes his soft cock twitch and he works his tongue inside you, his nose pressed against your clit. He groans at the way you grind down onto his mouth and he closes his eyes, absorbing your taste and your sounds to memory for when you eventually come to your senses and leave him.

You rock back on his face, your head tilted towards the sky and your hands sliding up to cup your breasts. His hands squeeze your ass, making you moan as you move. It’s indulgent and wicked, your body already slick with sweat as he devours you from below. “General,” you whimper. “You are so good at making me shake.” 

He loves hearing your praise and he laps at you like a dog, messy and uncaring as he desperately seeks your orgasm on his tongue. He wants to hear you scream his name again.

You grab on to one of the tent poles by the bed, hanging onto it as you ride your general’s face. His tongue pushed deep inside you. Glancing back, you see that his cock is still not hard again, so if you cum, he will seek another orgasm from you until he’s recovered. “Gods!” You squeal when he pulls his tongue out of your cunt and sucks your clit into his mouth. “Marcus!”

Your squeal of pleasure makes him hum with contentment and he groans against your clit when you roll your hips, chasing your pleasure, to extend it. He caresses your ass when you are still on top of him and he grabs you, shifting you until you are kneeling on the bed. "Going to make sure every bastard outside this tent knows who is making you cum like this." He hisses as he kneels behind you and bends over to slide his tongue through your sensitive folds until he is circling his tongue around your puckered hole.

Marcus has used every hole you possess, not allowing you to keep any part of yourself from him. You gasp out, but he just holds your hips firm in his large hands as he tastes you. You can and will let him do anything he wants, knowing that he is used to getting his way. He loves pushing you, making you wanton for him. “I- your tongue.” You moan, dropping down to press your face to the bed.

He grunts into your ass, loving the way you grind back onto him and he presses his thumb against the slick puckered hole as he slides his tongue back into your pussy, wanting to taste you again.

Your toes curl when he breeches the ring of muscles with his thumb, moaning like a whore while his tongue curls inside you. Eyes closing as you let him do what he wants. “I- I want to suck your cock.” You pant out. “Make- make you feel good.”

“Not yet.” He rasps as he pulls back from your cunt for a moment. “Going to make you scream my name all night.” He promises and dives back in, lowering his head in an awkward angle so he can suck on your clit. Every injury he endured is in the back of his mind as he focuses on you and how you taste.

He should be relaxing, letting you take charge of his pleasure, but that is not the kind of man Marcus is. He leads his men to their deaths and now, he pushes you towards orgasm. His hands are always engaged. His mind focused on nothing else but accomplishing his task, whether it is one he sets for himself or handed down from his emperor.

He sucks on your clit for a while until he’s dragging his tongue back through your folds, his thumb now pushed into your ass and he works it in and out, loving your sweet cries of pleasure but he wants to hear you fall apart for him.

Your gasp of his name is all you can manage. Your body rocking from the force of his thrusts of the thumb into your puckered hole. Cheek smooshed against the soft blankets, you feel your entire core start to tighten with that familiar draw. “Marcus- you, I’m going to -“ you babble, so close to the edge that you feel as if you are going mad.

He groans into your wet flesh when you babble, wanting you to cum for him. He ducks down to suck on your clit and that sends you over the edge. You cry out and he smirks around your bundle of nerves as you cum for him again.

You don’t hide your sounds. Making sure that your cries aren’t muffled in the least. The men near Marcus’s tent will know how talented their general is.

He loves that you let his men hear you, hear how he’s pleasuring you. He’s groaning and working you through it before he withdraws his thumb and playfully bites down on your ass. He’s half hard as he flops to lay down on the bed beside you.

You moan and quickly cover his chest to kiss his lips. “Let me pleasure you now.” You murmur, kissing his jaw and then down his chest. “Celebrate my general’s win by sucking his cock and then riding him until he cums.”

He groans when you take his cock into your mouth, hardening in your mouth as he watches you with dark eyes. “Fuck.” He hisses as you watch him as you take him deeper. “You are so good for me.” He murmurs in awe.

You would pull off his cock and tell him that he deserves everything good, but he would never believe you. Regret weighs him down with the mantle of responsibility so you try to ease his burdens or make him forget about them. You hum around his shaft and hold his hips while you work him deeper with every bob of your head.

He bites his lip after he curses again. Your mouth is his Elysian Fields. His heaven. The thing he thinks about when he’s in the baths alone when he’s in Rome. “Fuck.” He reaches down to caress your cheek, loving the way you are covered in jewels he bought you to claim you in the only way he can.

You lean into his touch, humming happily as his thighs tense and tighten. You slide your hand up to wrap around the base, squeezing it and pumping it as you work the head of his cock. Swallowing around his shaft makes him bite out another curse. You love when he lets you pleasure him, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“I don’t want to spill inside you.” He warns you, wanting to have you ride him just as you promised. He taps your cheek, knowing you’ll spend all night sucking his cock if he lets you but he desperately wants you to ride him so he can watch you cum again.

You pout slightly as you pull off his cock, the thin strands of your saliva keeping you connected until it breaks. “You do want to spill inside me, just not my mouth.” You tease, holding his cock and keeping the foreskin rolled down as you move to straddle his hips. “My general.” You coo as you line up and sink down on his length.

He watches you with the same concentration he applies during battle. Focused on where he disappears inside you with ease and he hisses when your wet walls grip him. “I want you to take what you want, amica mea.” He demands, his hands finding your hips to squeeze the flesh.

You love when you ride him, when you get to set the pace and rock your hips as you take him deeper. Marcus lays under you, his back cushioned against the bed and you lean forward to let your breasts sway in his face as you roll your hips and squeeze him tight inside your body.

He slides one hand down to squeeze your ass and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast. He loves the way you rock your hips, your cries of pleasure making him twitch inside you. "Fuck, that's it. Look so beautiful." He murmurs, looking up at you before he surges up to take your nipple into his mouth.

The sounds of the camp around you are audible, but all you can concentrate on is the feeling of his mouth on your breast, suckling on your nipple. “Marc!” You moan, pushing your hips back a little harder as you slam down on his cock.

He bites down on the bud and he slaps your ass cheek, loving the way you moan his name for the whole of the fucking Empire to hear who is making you feel like this. "That's it." He growls, kissing your sternum.

Marcus Acacius is a fierce soldier and general, just like he is a fierce lover. Your body responds to his touch like a wildfire is spreading in your blood. Making your hips speed up and you bounce faster on his cock, riding him like you would his giant war horse if you were trying to outrun a barrage of arrows. “Marcus- I- Marcus!” You scream out, body stiffening in pleasure as you start to cum.

When you clamp down on his cock, he hisses at how fucking tight you get, and you collapse forward onto his chest. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He grunts, wrapping his arms around you, thrusting up into you. He works you through your orgasm and loves the way your wails continue as you ride your high.

Turning your head, you press your lips to his skin, kissing his shoulder and up his neck. “I love you.” You moan softly. He won’t return the sentiment, he can’t, but you can say it for the both of you. “Cum for me.” You urge softly. “Fill me up.”

He wants to hold off again but your cunt is squeezing him and you are kissing his neck. "Fuck, amor." He lets his emotion slip as he thrusts up into you until he is pulsing, painting your walls with his seed.

You whine softly, loving the feeling of warmth as he floods your womb. Kissing his pulse and panting against his skin. “You are perfect.” You praise him. “The gods have blessed me when they gave me to you.”

He grunts as you shower him with sweet words and for a moment, he wishes he was a simpler man. A plebeian who could marry you and bring you into daylight, but he can’t. You are his mistress and you are hidden in the shadows because of who he is, what he is. His hands caress your sides as he relaxes beneath you, body aching now the adrenaline has worn off.

“Sleep.” You coo, feeling his breathing start to slow down. His body is slipping into the boneless exhaustion. He will need to eat, but he can rest for now and you will take care of whatever he needs when he wakes. The general has fought hard today and deserves the comforts you can afford him. You kiss his chin and then his lips. “Sleep, my love.” You urge him softly. “Roman glory can wait.”

[eclipseiz]

The Gladiator PT.2 18+

Part One

pairing- hanno/lucius x fem! oc 1790 words

(♡ synopsis)- general acacius's daughter became intrigued by the violent gladiator she saw perform in the games and just had to meet him. (lucilla is not her mother)

warnings- p in v, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), fingering

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Sabina quietly moved around the pillars of her home, careful not to make a sound but gave up when she saw Lucilla sitting on the edge of the fountain dipping her fingers into the water.

Sabina walked forward and removed her hood, “I hope you were not waiting for me.”

Lucilla softly gasped and turned to face the young girl. “I didn't see you in your chamber. I waited for your return.” she stood 

Lucilla’s eyes looked watery and Sabina took note of how her hands shook, “What is troubling you?”

The older blonde smoothed out her wrinkly dress and took a deep breath before responding, “That gladiator he did something that made me reminisce of a memory long ago.” she paused and brought her bundle of herbs to her nose smelling for comfort, “It's him Sabina, it's my boy, my Lucius.” she gave a teary smile.

Sabina couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man whom she just had sex with was her step-mothers long lost son. She had heard tales of the boy ever since Marcus married the woman. “And you're sure of this?” she reached for the woman's hands.

“He has those same bright blue eyes I remember and he performed just as his father would have.” she sobbed, “Your father and I have created a plan to free him.” she looked around before continuing, “Marcus shall move into the gladiator quarter with a select group of trusted soldiers.”

The General's daughter took the information in and nodded,  “Sounds of a solid plan.” she backed up taking in all of the information she had received.

“Where did you run off to tonight?” Lucilla asking with furrowed brows.

Sabina bit her cheek, “Ravi asked for my assistance after the games, I didn't want to keep him waiting.”

Lucilla smiled, “I'm sure.” she said in a taunting tone before pinching the girls cheek, “Sleep asks of me, I will see you in the morning.” Bidding the girl a good-night she disappeared into a dark hallway making Sabina let out a relieved sigh, thankful for her not prying.

A short few days later Sabina sat to Lucilla’s right in the colosseum for yet another day of games. She nervously looked at the water containing bloody thirsty sharks.

“Today will be an entertaining game.” Geta smiled proud of his idea, bringing a goblet of wine to his lips

Caracalla’s laugh boomed out, “That it will brother.” his eyes moved behind him to the General's daughter. “Sabina, come sit next to me, keep your emperor company.”

Her eyes shot up to him before moving her eyes to her father who only gave her a silent nod not to disobey the mentally unwell man. “It'll be my honor.” She took the seat next to him and almost immediately he threw an arm around her shoulder bringing her in close. 

The Roman people watched in excitement and nerves as Hanno was announced, coming out on a boat. Sabina sat straight up, curtly clapping in support.

Lucius moved around the back of the boat shouting orders at his men to take the other boat out, fighting his eyes who only seemed to be focused on the emperor's box where a certain woman resided.

Sabina nervously shook her leg as she watched the two boats crash into each other. Ignoring the howling emperor's next to her. Caracalla turned his attention to her and leaned his lips to her ear. “You do not look entertained. Do your emperors not put on a good show for you?” he questioned with fury burning in his gaze.

She fought to roll her eyes, “My features cannot express the astonishment I feel.” she answered in a clipped, sarcastic tone..

Before she could blink Caracalla landed a sharp slap to her cheek, “Do not answer in such a tone!” Behind them Lucila gasped while Marcus gripped his chair tighter.

Lucius heard the commotion and looked up to see the red mark now plastered on Sabina and the emperor yelling in her face. His blood began to boil and before he knew it he grabbed the bow in front of him and aimed his shot at the pale emperor, letting go of the arrow.

Sabina watched as a stray arrow shot into the booth, planting itself into the wood pillar, mere inches from Caracalla’s head, “PRAETORIANS!” Geta yelled for his guard who swarmed into the booth.

The girl looked towards the center of the ring and saw the gladiator throwing the bow back down before giving her a nod and returning to fighting.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

After sneaking out of the panicked crowd Sabina made her way to the holding cells. She entered and made it to stand in front of Ravi, “May you?” she gestured to the locked cell which contained her gladiator

The older man gave her a sly smile, “To what does he owe your company.” He got up and maneuvered his keys to the correct one and pushed it into the hole on the door.

Sabina only blushed and gave him a curt nod after he had opened the door for her. Lucius sat at his desk, back to her. She didn't say anything until she heard the door lock being her. 

“Marvelous job today, almost assassinating the emperor was by far the best part.” she joked and put her hands on his shoulders before moving them to his chest making him lean his toned back into her legs.

Lucius grunted, “He should not have put his hands on you in the matter in which he did.” He turned his head to face her looking at the red mark that only had seemed to get worse. 

“All is well, it'll fade.” Sabina moved around him to place herself in his lap, “Should I call you Hanno or Lucius?”

The gladiator let out an airy laugh rubbing his eyes. Hearing his birth given name come from her lips felt right. “Let's try Lucius out, hm?” Suddenly without warning he swung Sabina’s leg over his lap and had her straddling him.

The girl softly gasped, holding his shoulders for support. “Eager are we?” she joked, lightly grinding on his hardening cock.

“You looked like a goddess sitting up there. I could hardly contain myself.” he gritted his teeth and pulled her closer to him by her waist. “What do you want my beautiful girl?”

Sabina softly gasped, “Your mouth, fingers, anything please.”

Lucius chuckled, “How about both.” He lifted her up with ease onto the desk and spread her legs open before him revealing her bare cunt, dripping with arousal. “You came bare?” he darkly asked, swiping his fingers over the wet mess.

“Unneeded layers.” she answered with hooded eyes, arms propped up behind her to see what intend to do.

The gladiator hummed and lowered his lips to pamper kisses along her thigh, making her let out a soft groan. “Who do you belong to Sabina? Say it.”

“You Lucius, only you.” she groaned, letting her head roll back.

His lips continued their fiery trail up to her cunt, bringing his fingers to toy with her entrance. Her clit swollen and thumming with need. He pushed one finger slowly in and began to pump it while he took her bud into his mouth softly sucking it. Sabina’s fingers made their way to his head where she gripped his hair for dear life. Arousal gushed out of her, dripping from his finger to his wrist before falling onto the desk under her. “Ready for another?” he questioned in a teasing tone.

She covered her mouth and nodded, not trusting herself to stay quiet with the way he was playing with her. Lucius added another finger curling them into her and attaching his mouth to her puffy clit, savoring the flavor. She tried closing her legs at the overwhelming pressure building up but his strong rough arms held them agaisnt the wood.

Just as she was about to let go he pulled away with a smirk, “As i've said..” he trailed off and stood getting his hard cock from under his loincloth giving it a few pumps, “You shall only come on my cock.” Grabbing her thighs he pulled her to the edge of the desk and lined up with her entrance and pushed in with one single thrust, covering Sabinas mouth simultaneously. Her legs wrapped around his middle while his other hand went to her neck adding pressure to it.

She moaned agaisnt his hand, nails raking down his musical arms, trailing the veins that lined them lie threads, “You like being fucked like a whore? My personal whore who congratulates me after a fight…” He looked down where he thrusted in and out of her and watched her juiced coat his pubic area. “Want to cum?” she nodded feverishly, eyes locked onto him.

He let go of her neck and rubbed her clit with his thumb, "Cum on my cock beautiful, you can do it.” she squeezed him with vice grip making him spill deep into her. He took a moment to catch his breath before pulling out of her with a wince. 

Sabina held the hand he had over her mouth, kissing it before he pulled it back. “You continue to surprise me with your skills.” she said breathlessly sitting up.

Lucius smiled and stepped between her legs, cradling her face. “When I find myself to be free of this place…I'd like you to run with me. Anywhere you'd like.” 

Her jaw dropped a little before regaining her composure, “My whole life is planted in Rome. To leave would be betraying my family. I cannot leave my father and Lucilla to fend for themselves.” she watched this disappointment flood his face.

He nodded, “I understand.”

Suddenly Ravi came to the cell door and hit it lightly with the key, “Something has happened Sabina you need to go now!” he whispered harshly.

The pair shared a look before she stood and walked out of the cell, watching as Ravi locked Lucius back in. “The plan?” 

Ravi gave her a grave look, “Your father and his men were blitz attacked. He was caught…Lucilla as well from what the whispers have said.” 

Sabina gasped and the gladiator behind the cell door gripped the bars, “What does that mean, what are you both whispering of?”

She rushed to the door and wrapped her hands around his, “I'm afraid something horrible has occurred I have to go.” she kissed him before rushing out of the chamber, pulling her hood up.

Lucius watched as she ran before turning to Ravi with a questioning gaze.

The doctor kept his head down, “I suggest you sleep Lucius. You will need it for what the morning brings.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

part 3?

Reblog and Like ♡

also just saw the movie for a 3rd time…

[ahummingbirdwitch]

Katakuri x reader (forced marriage just like Sanji's one)

Thank you for your patience on this one!!

Not So Bad After All (Katakuri x F!Reader)

Summary: You and Katakuri have been forced to marry, and it’s your wedding night.

Pairing: Charlotte Katakuri x F!Reader

Rating: General

Word Count: 1102

Warnings: none

Notes: Left this one a little short but I’m def open to writing more with Katakuri!

You’d never once thought your wedding night would be like this.

Alone in a couples suite in a strange, unfamiliar kingdom, married to a man you barely knew—the son of one of the Four Emperors.

Not just any of the Four Emperors, either. Charlotte Linlin—aka Big Mom—arguably the most ruthless of them. You should’ve known that she’d take an interest in your family at some point, given the success of your father’s confection company, because one day that dreaded letter had arrived, inviting you—not any of your brothers or sisters—to tea. And no one refused an invitation to tea from Big Mom.

It hadn’t taken long for you to learn what the Empress wanted from you—or rather, your family. She wanted a share of your father’s company—the profits and the confections—and wouldn’t take no for an answer. You and the rest of your family were far taller than the average human, and upon learning this, Big Mom couldn’t have been more delighted. For years she had been eager to marry off one of her oldest sons—a man sixteen feet in height—and you, being the oldest of your siblings, were chosen to be his bride, whether you liked it or not. For her, it was all too sweet a deal.

Now, as of tonight, you were married to Charlotte Katakuri.

You and your family had been promptly brought to Whole Cake Island, but in the four days you’d been here, you’d only seen the man himself twice; the first time, to be formally introduced, then the second time was meeting him at the altar. Despite being married to him, you knew dreadfully little about Katakuri. You knew of his impressive bounty and his equally impressive Devil Fruit, and you’d learned in your limited time with him that he was incredibly solitary, keeping to himself and always concealing his mouth with that scarf he wore. The two of you had barely spoken directly, but when he had, he had not been unkind to you, though he had not been necessarily warm, either. He was a mystery, one that few could try and help you unravel.

It had been fine enough avoiding him before the wedding, but now, he was your husband, and you would truly have to face the situation head-on. You were alone in the suite now, having left the reception early to “rest,” but Katakuri would return soon, and as his wife, you’d be expected to perform your marital duties. Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, you still found yourself shivering with trepidation.

It wasn’t that you were a virgin, and it wasn’t that Katakuri was unattractive. He was… quite the opposite, actually, even with half his face covered. It wasn’t the size difference, either; he was only a few feet taller than you, and you’d be largely compatible with each other. It was the fact that you didn’t know him, that none of this had been your choice, and there was no way out of it. Whether he was gentle with you or not didn’t matter; this was all wrong, all forced, and you didn’t know if you were strong enough to handle it.

A knock at the door broke you from your trance. A second later, a deep voice followed. “May I come in?”

Katakuri. Your heart began to race. “Yes, of course,” you called, as steadily as you could.

The door opened, and Katakuri stepped in, carrying a box. He was still wearing his wedding suit, though his tie had been loosened, and his shirt mostly unbuttoned. Given his usual attire, you figured he wasn’t a fan of shirts or form-fitting clothes. His scarf remained around his neck, and he made no move to unwrap it even as he took off his coat and hung it up on the nearby rack. Only when he had set down the box on a dresser, removed his tie and opened up his shirt the rest of the way did he speak to you again. “Are you well?” he asked.

You were quiet for a heartbeat, searching for the best answer. No, you weren’t; that was the truth. But you couldn’t just say that to him. “I am,” you replied. Though you wanted to shrink away, you forced yourself to sit up straight at the edge of the bed. You were wearing the white nightdress that had been left in the suite for you, presumably by Big Mom herself; it was not revealing, thankfully, but the material was light, and your skin prickled with gooseflesh in your uncomfortable state.

Katakuri regarded you for a moment, and you knew there had to be something on his mind, though his eyes did not betray his emotions. He took a seat just then in a chair not far from the bed, crossing one leg over another. “Since we’re alone now, I should be upfront with you,” he said calmly. “Even though it’s expected of the two of us, I have no desire to be intimate with you tonight.”

You stared at him, caught off-guard. “You—don’t?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“I do not,” he answered simply. “I understand it’s customary, but I don’t feel that it’s right. And if I’m being honest, I’m not really in the mood for it anyway.”

You were speechless for several seconds, relief rushing through you. He didn’t want to. He was giving you an out. Had he sensed how scared you were? It didn’t matter; you didn’t have to do anything with him tonight, and that was good enough.

Katakuri observed you. “Hopefully this doesn’t disappoint you,” he said. “I know my mother set up this whole thing, but it wasn’t exactly my choice. I much prefer intimacy when I know someone very well, and I just don’t know you very well. Not yet, anyway.”

Those words touched you in a way you hadn’t expected at all. “No—no, I’m not disappointed,” you reassured him. You could feel your body already relaxing. “I… feel the same way, actually. About that sort of thing.”

He gave you a look that seemed almost curious. Did he like that, you wondered? “Would you like some donuts?” he asked all of a sudden. “I brought some from the party.”

Katakuri reached for the box he’d placed on the dresser, and you perked up when he opened it to reveal the round sugary treats inside. Your stomach growled; having been so anxious that day, you’d hardly eaten during the reception. Now that things didn’t feel so hectic anymore, you realized how hungry you were. “Yes please,” you said, taking one gratefully. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

[watercurtaincave]

This is my first time request!! Can you do Nezha dating headcanon please??

𖤓 !! — Invisible Red String Theory. Ne zha / reader

𖤓 !! — Ne Zha can sometimes be a difficult guy to get along with; for all he is, a protector and a guardian and a friend, and all he can be, it seems that relationships tend to be the hardest for him to upkeep. It's just tends to be his nature to follow orders from the Jade emperor, his nature to take any job he's assign too seriously, his nature to be stand off-ish and cold.

𖤓 !! — It's how he was raised to be, from when he was born as a mortal to when he was reborn from the roots of a lotus flower and became the 'Third Lotus Prince'. Ne Zha hadn't exactly known a kind life, and despite everything he's been through, his first true 'friends' happened to be a ragtag group of Wukong, his successor, and everyone else who fought against the Azure lion. Even then he didn't really know how to interact with them, and furthermore making friends on the brink of the world being destroyed (twice) isn't the greatest situation. It often leads to choice words being said and sarcastic and demeaning undertones in the heat of stress.

𖤓 !! — So Ne Zha was fully ready to be left alone, once again, after the whole drama died down. Yet, when he was invited back to Pigsy's after he didn't show up to the beach day, he was kind of shocked. He half believed it was some sort of joke on him, a 'prank', another teasing gesture from Wukong. But he decided to go anyways, seeing as it would be rude not to show up when it was requested of him.

𖤓 !! — To say that people actually wanted his company was shocking would be an understatement. He was oddly moved by the voiced shouting to greet him, the chaotic nature of the whole gathering, and having people to finally spend his days with. It oddly felt like some sort of clean start. He could just be Ne Zha. Not the Third Lotus Prince, not the Demon Child, not a murderer or a kidnapper, just... Ne Zha.

𖤓 !! — "Hey, what's your name?" Ne Zha would perk up upon hearing the question, not recognizing the voice from anyone he knew. His eyebrows narrowed a little, mostly upon instinct, when he saw a stranger in a party that was meant to be only for close friends. So, either you, a complete stranger to Ne Zha, had crashed the party or you were a friend one someone's. But who would that someone be? The most logical answer would be Mei or MK, they seem like they would have a bunch of friends, and you did seem right around their age. Yet, that seemed too easy of an answer and you could be friends with a complete wild card like Tang or Wukong. The answer kind of mattered, it would give Ne Zha a basis of how you would be like. "Ne Zha." But he would answer anyways despite the uncertainty.

𖤓 !! — Well, he wouldn't know that answer really wouldn't matter much in the long run.

𖤓 !! — Oddly enough, since that day, Ne Zha swears he's seen you more times than he should; Almost like you've always been a background character in his life that only just got brought to light. It was both odd and endearing in an off-put way. As such, he never realized how much you really did hang out with MK, Mei, and the others. Whenever he would come down to help out with small tasks, trying to keep himself busy, he would notice your presence almost instantly (where, beforehand, he was sure he completely ignored it). It was an oddly magnetic presence, of siren-like-quality that lured him in with a wonderful melody. Your soul was a wonderful melody, he could feel it anytime he passed. Yet he could never let himself get distracted by such meaningless things, not when he has bigger things to do.

𖤓 !! — Not when he was sure that relationships between mortals and immortals are forbidden; The Jade Emperor never liked it when immortals mingled with the mortals anyways, hence why he tried to strike down Sun Wukong so many times and banished Gauyin when she went to live amongst them. So he could not have any relationships with mortals either. Not in the way he's been dreaming about, so he must distance himself from your all too alluring personality and smile, your kind ways and how you always seem ready to lend a hand. Siren-like, that's what Ne Zha forced himself to think of you as. You were nothing but a Siren that was created to tempt his will and strength and we was not to loose-

𖤓 !! — "You know, you shouldn't let yourself be chained to old expectations anymore, Ne Zha." Your voice, as smooth as liquid gold and as sweet as cotton candy, flushed into his ears one night during a bomb fire with everyone. He had parted himself from the group to take a breather, seeing as Sun Wukong was simply trying to annoy Macaque and everyone was having their fits of laughter about it. He never expected you to notice he had left, nevertheless for you to follow him like you did. Siren, the thought rang in his head, Siren, siren, siren! But his words would fall short as you stood next to him and hummed a small tune, watching the orange-pink sunset with such a peaceful way. "What do you mean?" Ne Zha would respond to your statement, trying to seem a little off put by it. Maybe, secretly, he was and he was just denying it to himself. He wasn't tied down by chains, he was his own person. "It's why you fail to make relationships with everyone the way that you want to." You would continue, tracing a circle along the rim of your cup. That odd detail caught Ne Zha's attention, "You're afraid that you're going to get attached, that someone will tell the Jade Emperor about your affairs, that you will be stricken down like the rest. But you know you don't have to worry about such things, right?"

𖤓 !! — Who are you? Ne Zha would stare at you with the most bewildered look, mouth slight agape, as he wondered if he was simply too easy to read or if you were some sort of witch. Surely he couldn't be easy to read, and Wukong being able to read him at times didn't count because Wukong was just odd by himself. He's also known Wukong for many years, while he hasn't spoken to you for even .1% of the time he's known Wukong. Yet you were able to read his thoughts like he was some sort of open book. "Are you a witch?" His question came out before he could think upon it; Though, he hoped you didn't notice the way he slightly jerked back and bit his tongue when his mind caught up to his words. He would glance away from you and from the sunset, yet he could hear your finger constantly tracing that circle rimmed cup of yours.

𖤓 !! — He expected you to be offended, to hold some sort of grudge due to his words, yet you only would stifle a bit of laughter before giggling at his words. That caught him off guard, and he didn't realize how your laughter cleared the awkward air around you both, as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "No, Ne Zha, I just.. I've heard about you from MK and Wukong." You would explain, "And I then began to notice all the small things you do to keep a barrier between everyone and yourself. I asked Tang and Wukong about it, and they, well, gave me some sad answers. So I thought, oh I don't know, I could help you?" Ne Zha wasn't sure how to respond to your sentiment, though he could tell you were true about your word. It was by the way you had looked up at him, the way your eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the corner, and your tone of voice. Ne Zha has met many people and you, by far, are one of the most unique.

𖤓 !! — He, also, couldn't help but feel touched at your countless efforts to try and understand him despite all he's done to keep you, and everyone else, at arms length. What kind of person would do that just so they could reach out to someone like Ne Zha?

𖤓 !! — He didn't fully let his guard or his walls down with you that night, but he surely let you a little closer to his heart. A little step closer to being able to fully understand who Ne Zha was as a person. A tiny step closer to being able to call yourself his. And, most importantly, the itty bittiest step forward in helping Ne Zha realize he can make friends now. That he doesn't have to be anyone that he doesn't want to be, that he can choose for himself; That he can be himself. And out of everything you have achieved with the smallest step of reaching out, that was the greatest one of all.

𖤓 !! — Being lovers with Ne Zha would be hard, and it'll take a lot of time, but it's something that's so worth it in the end. For once you get close enough to Ne Zha, though he wouldn't realize it, you would become one of his top priorities. You can call him, even pray to him, at any time on any day and he'll answer, and he'll be there, quicker than he had chased Wukong down once he stole the map. He's there for you through the thick and the thin, and in turn you're there for him equally as much.

𖤓 !! — Being lovers with Ne Zha is like being able to see the moments where he falters his 'big guy' persona and you get to see the true Ne Zha. Him and his little curiosities. How he'll stop and stare at a butterfly on a tree you had missed during your walk. How he cares so much about his friends, deep down, that he constantly checks Mei's 'instagram' through your phone to make sure they're okay. How he will sit in front of the stove to ponder how yeast can make bread rise. How he's so scared of losing you that he'll cuddle you against his chest at night, not aware on how tightly his arms (wrapped around your waist and chest) are to make sure you're still there. To see all his childish curiosities he couldn't think when he was a kid due to his 'destiny'; To see the way his face lights up upon trying new food and experiences; To see, well, Ne Zha.

𖤓 !! — Being lovers with Ne Zha is to truly be loved both inside and out, and loving him back just the same. It's timeless and effortless and neither of you would have it any other way.

𖤓 !! — all writing in this page belongs to @watercurtaincaves, please do not repost on other sites, plagiarize, or steal. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[penkura]

hey! how are you?

hope you're doing well :)

I wanted to ask, If you could pretty please write a one shot about Sanji and reader, I'm watching the Zou arc now, and I really want to know how it would be If reader was with him in the moment he finds out about the marriage and leaves the note, she would cry and beg him to stay or something, you can decide If they were already in a relantionship or not.

Anyway feel free to ignore it if you don't want, and take care of yourself <3

PS: sorry If something got wrong, english it's not my first language.

Omg the Zou arc, pain with Sanji geez. I'm so happy for this request tho, I've not written this scenario before! I had an idea for their relationship as soon as I read your message too, so I hope this is what you were looking for! I kept it open for a part two if you'd like later on as well! I hope you enjoy it!

You and Sanji had been close ever since Luffy recruited you shortly after him. Something about the blond had just drawn you in and he was glad to entertain you and spend his free time with you. Even when you’d sit and watch him cook in total silence, Sanji welcomed it, he was happy to have company and someone to listen when he started talking out loud about what steps were next. You learned his most common dishes so well that you were able to rattle off the directions yourself, causing Sanji to become smitten with you quickly.

You’d fallen in the same way, after spending time with and getting to know Sanji. Despite his perverted tendencies at times, you found yourself drawn to and falling completely head over heels for your crew’s chef. He kept somethings about his life before meeting Zeff from you, the most you knew was that he was one of five children and from the North Blue, you didn’t dare pry too much farther. You didn’t want to push him away and ruin the friendship you’d built with him, especially once you realized your feeling for Sanji were more than just friendly.

Not like you’ll ever tell him, if you have it your way. You weren’t going to make things difficult for not only you and Sanji but your whole crew too. You’ve become content to just admire and pine after him, no matter how many times Nami tells you to just say something to him about your feelings, you refuse to do so. You won’t make things awkward, not when everyone is focused on their goals and now looking towards taking down an Emperor of the Sea in Kaido.

“The main event is a wedding,” Bege takes out an invitation and opens it for Sanji to see, “Between the third son of the Vinsmoke family and the 35th daughter of the Charlotte family, Pudding.”

You were content until this new development. A tea party invitation and requirement from Big Mom, a wedding to a girl he’s never met, the last name he’s never once told you about. You just believed he didn’t have one, like Nami or Usopp, it didn’t matter to you if he did or didn’t. He’s Sanji, he’s not this Vinsmoke Sanji. Your mind is reeling as he flat out refuses the invitation, while your crewmates shout their disbelief at this situation, you can’t even seem to join them. Everything moves so fast, the next thing you know, one of Bege’s crew members has whispered something to Sanji that’s got him going rigid, being getting a pen and piece of paper to write something down. You don’t even notice fully that he’s taken and ripped a piece off it, ignoring the looks he gets from the others around, wondering what he’s doing.

While Sanji slips the note he’s written to Nami, you try so hard to finally speak but the words won’t come out. He can’t leave, he just can’t! He’s so important to your crew, to Luffy, to you, Sanji can’t just go off and marry some random girl he’s never met! It’s not fair, even though you’ve never made your feelings known to him, you have no claim on Sanji. You’re able to get back into focus as he speaks to you all again when he hugs you.

“Please know, I never meant to keep anything from any of you.” He grips your shoulder just a bit tighter than he has before, and that’s what finally gets you to speak.

“Sanji, wait! You…you can’t go! I…I lo—”

He stops you with a smile and placing his hand on your head, nodding just a bit. “I know…but don’t worry, I’ll come back…and then we can talk, okay?”

You don’t believe him, even as he forces the four of you out of Bege’s castle, giving everyone a smile and promising to be back later. He’s never lied to you before, why shouldn’t you believe him? You have every intention of running after Bege as he goes to escape, but Nami reminds you that it’ll be pretty hard to do anything when you’re still chained up like the rest of them. Even after the Minks free you, you want to go after them, but she stops you again, with a hug that finally makes you start to cry over not being able to stop him.

At least, until you feel the scratch of paper on your shoulder and realize that’s what he was doing, when Sanji gripped your shoulder tighter. He was slipping you a note separate from everyone, now you can take it and see what he was telling you that he kept from everyone else. You don’t read it until you’re back to the room you and Nami are sharing thanks to the Minks, and all it does is make your heart ache and feel like you should’ve done more, because now you truly don’t believe he’s coming back.

No matter what happens next, I love you. I’ll tell you in person when I come back.

You’re going to help Luffy get him back, your mind and heart are decided.

[inks-writing-space]

Serotonin~ Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

~~~~~~~~~

3.7k words: You are a witch getting invited to a party at the Mikaelson compound. There you dance with a certain hybrid who invites you into his study for later…

Warnings: smut, blowjob, kinda enemies to lovers, dirty talk, eastereggs for my austrian friends, Klaus being a horny bastard and a dom, a little kinky but not a lot, and a tension filled dance…

A/N: AHHH I GOT MOTIVATION AGAIN!!! I used to write on Ao3 but immigrated to Tumblr…I started to write again and I am so happy. Might not be my best one shot be I think it’s alright.

~~~~~~~

Your hand was trembling in fear, or like your mother called it, doing funny things. But that was only natural. To say you weren't nervous would be a lie and a bad one as well. You had been a part of the whole Vampire Drama since the day you arrived in this world and the danger, hiding and lying had taken a toll on you. Not that you would have minded. You were a thrill seeker, and a drama queen on top of that. Someone like that appreciates the thrill and the unknown. Still you didn't know if you were able to make tonight. Not in terms of surviving, you were quite skilled at that, but more on a mental level.

The Mikaelson's were hosting a party and you were invited. You hadn't seen them in a long time, and you would have loved to keep it that way. You didn't like Klaus very much, nor Elijah, nor Kol. The only one you got along with was Rebekah, but it wasn't worth putting up with her brother's just for her company. As a witch you had far better things to do. Ignoring an official invitation by the Originals wasn't one. It would be considered impolite and you couldn't afford having them as your enemy. Not after you had seen what they were able to do to witches like you or even vampires, who were there own kind.

This is why you were now standing infront of your mirror taking in the sight of yourself in the dress you had gotten for your eighteenth birthday. This had been a few years ago but it still fitted like back then. It was sparkling red and where it should be touching the ground red roses were knitted into it, a protection spell by your mother. Two gloves were reaching up to your elbows hugging your skin tightly. You had put your hair up in two thin braids on each side, coming together in the middle, while you had curled the rest of the hair and let it fall down. Your red eye shadow was matching the dress, and with a colorless lipgloss and mascara your look was completed.

You sighed one last time, before you grabbed your purse and headed off to the compound.

You were always shocked by how skilled the Mikaelson's were in hosting balls and parties and other stuff, but you knew they never did anything without a reason, and you knew inviting you wasn't a nice gesture. Still you smiled at Elijah who was welcoming the guests. He smiled back as you offered him your hand, he took it and implied a kiss onto your glove.

"It's good to see you, welcome back," he said. Anyone else would have taken that as a compliment, but you knew better.

"Elijah," you say the smile still plastered on your lips not quite reaching your eye's. Elijah noticed that too and raised an eyebrow but didn't comment at it, turning to other guests.

You knew it would probably be the worst decision to get drunk in a place full of vampires who weren't really found of you, but your nerves were getting the better of you and that's how you found yourself with your third drink in your hand already feeling a little lightheaded.

"Have you become an alcoholic in the time you were gone, or are you trying to drown some lovesickness?," a voice behind you asked and you shooted the rest of your drink before turning around looking into a pair of blue-green eyes.

"Niklaus," you said letting the name roll of your lip, "I doubt the only reason to drink are alcoholism and lovesickness."

He smiled, ignoring your comment, "Oh my dear, when did we go back to the formalities? Just call me Klaus," he said and you sighed realizing how much he enjoyed the banter you too had and always have had.

"Do you need a drink in your hand to answer me or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open for the rest of the night?," he asked and you immediately closed your mouth and swallowed down a sarcastic remark, reminding yourself why it was a bad idea to insult an Original.

"Why am I here Klaus?," you finally managed to press out and he sighed offering you his arm.

"I'd love to show you." You shook your head.

"I won't follow you into a creepy basement or some, just tell me." He smiled a little and accepted your wish surprisingly. "Then dance with me. I'd like to explain it to you without unnecessary listeners."

You considered it for a second, glad he had given you the illusion of a choice before taking his hand and letting him guide you onto the dance floor.

The Emperor Waltz started playing and you had to chuckle, "How ironic,“ you commented, Klaus chuckled.

"I swear this wasn't on purpose." You looked at him as you two started to dance. He had his hand on your waist, but didn't touch it as if he tried to keep a respectful distance. You couldn't say the same for you, your hand was holding on for dear life on his shoulder, while he guided you across the parquet your fingers of the other hand interlinked.

"Our family needs extra protection," Klaus said while twirling you around. You raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze trying not to look down at your feet.

"The Originals. Why would they need extra protection, I thought you all are immortal and having your own witches," your voice was laced with sarcasm and Klaus chuckled his grip on your hand growing a little tighter. He was now also touching your hip.

"I was told you own a Grimoire with special protection spells," you swallowed the music growing intenser. Where had he heard that? And when was this damn dance finally over?

"It's ten minutes long," Klaus said dryly almost as if he had read your thoughts. You looked at him.

"Why would I give you the book leave alone speak the protection spell."

"Because you don't have that much of a choice," he said dryly, the music lowering a little and his mouth went next to your ear, "Or do you really want to test me, little witch?"

You shook your head, "I can give you the Grimoire, I don't want to call you or your family my enemies." Klaus chuckled, "Intelligent witch. Always on the right side, aren't you?"

The music swelled again and you protested as Klaus sped up your movements, "Oh come on what is up with this Austrian dances?," you asked annoyed.

"Aww, for a witch who has seen the monarchy of Austria-Hungary rise and fall you are awfully bad at dancing to their music," Klaus said amused and you shrugged.

"I wasn't in Europe during that time. I assume you were?" Klaus nodded slightly, "I was trying to find the Doppelgänger or what was left of her."

"Katherine wasn't in Bulgaria at that time. I doubt she stayed anywhere for long," you said yelping as he lifted you for a second.

"And if I knew that before I would have left her country and returned to England sooner." You looked away, trying to concentrate on his steps. You did not want to form a connection with him. He chuckled slightly.

"Eyes on me. That's necessary for a waltz."

"I think you are lying," you mumbled but looked back at him.

"You know that you look amazing in that dress, right?," he asked and you nodded confidently. "I like it as well. Thanks for noticing I guess."

You saved yourself of stepping on his feet and Klaus smiled, "I always notice. Why don't you come to my room in a few hours when this party is over, and we discuss the details of you handing me the Grimoire?" You bit your lip but nodded as the dance was slowly coming to an end. You knew you had to go through this sooner or later and you didn't really mind.

„Perfect,“ he said letting you go again, "Oh and sweetheart?“ You turned to him raising an eyebrow, "If you run I‘ll find you.“

~~~

A few hours and drinks later you finally stepped into Klaus‘s office. To your surprise he was alone without Elijah or any other sibling. He smiled at you, obviously relieved that you came.

"Glad you didn’t try to run,“ he said, his voice low as he stood up and approached you walking like a predator mocking it's prey.

You nodded, your heart racing, although you weren't quite sure why, yes you were scared of him, but the alcohol seemed to make it even worse. „Listen I‘ll give you the Grimoire but after that I never want to hear a word from any original ever again," you said quickly so you didn't have to think about how his curls looked especially good today. At your words Klaus raised an eyebrow, "Really? From none of us?“

"Feel offended?"

A smug smile crossed his face, "Well yea, I'll miss a witch who has a lot of power in my life."

You smiled joylessly, "Well you bet that I won't miss the original who tried to suppress me."

"Aw you are so innocent aren't you?," Klaus asked, his voice laced with sarcasm and a shiver ran down your spine. He chuckled, "I watched you the whole night you know, you are such a brave girl attending a party at the home of the Originals. Everyone kept their distance because they are scared you'll break like a glass doll the second they even try to address you. They all buy your good girl act hook, line and sinker, but not me."

Klaus smiled cruelly, "You are neither innocent nor a good person, are you, doll?"

You swallowed, not quite sure what to answer. Klaus's proximity was making you more nervous than it should, but Klaus was waiting for your response and you wanted to give it to him.

"I never said I was," you finally answered, and he chuckled darkly.

"No, because I know you aren't. I can ignore all the lives you took, and all the sacrifices you made. But do you really think you can hide how much your heart rate increases every time I come near you? I wanted you here to talk about the Grimoire, but now I have someone who seems to enjoy my company a lot," he eyed your form up and down taking in every inch of you, "Or am I wrong?"

You swallowed the alcohol clouding your judgement, your body aching and not wanting to lie anymore. You shook your head, "No, you are not," you whispered your voice hoarse and goosebump started to build on your body.

"Look at you," he smiled, "All I have to do is whisper a few pretty words and you melt right in front of me, isn't that cute?"

The worst part was that his words made everything you felt so much worse. It felt like bubbles were building inside of you, like the champagne had started to have his own personality. But it wasn't the alcohol or the drinks in you, it was a real shiver that went over your spine when Klaus talked to you like that. Ugh you hated vampires.

Klaus took a step closer, his chest now almost pressing against yours, his hand was on your hip in an instant and he turned you around. "Listen closely, doll. I do not like witches," his hand wandered to your neck and a jolt went through your body, "You might be hot, but believe me you are not an exception at all. And if you do even so much as to try and hurt my family...," Klaus squeezed your neck a little more.

"Great," you said, your voice a little shaky, but you tried to regain back your usual composure, "And now we should have sex." You did not know why you said this. Maybe because Klaus was so close you could feel his breath against your neck. Or maybe because his hand was applying the perfect amount of pressure around your throat. Or maybe because his threat was super fucking hot.

Klaus chuckled behind you, his lips gracing over the shell of your ear, pressing a soft kiss to it, before he continued tracing his lips over your neck, his hands wandering up the sides of your body.

"If you insist. I never was one to deny a pretty woman an opportunity to release all of her pent up pressure." His hand moved to the zipper on the back of your dress, and pulled it down, slowly and considerate, "Although I like to tease them from time to time," he chuckled as he felt your uneasiness mixed with anticipation. You didn't turn around as the dress fell to the floor, and his fingers opened your bra sliding it off your shoulders.

At this point your body was already trembling and shaking and the fact you were so excited and ready only amused Klaus more. He clicked softly with his tongue. "I haven't even touched you yet and you are already a trembling mess. I am excited about what else I'll be able to get from you."

He turned you around quickly looking you up and down. You decided to take the initiative, at least for the moment, and kissed him. First you had to stand on your tiptoes to reach the Hybrid's face but once he noticed your struggle his hands grabbed your ass and placed you onto his table. His hand grabbed your chin roughly as he broke the kiss, "I am gonna show you exactly what can happen if you decide to behave and work for me," he smirked slightly, "I'd hate to show you the other side."

"Aren't you a softie," you joked and with a growl Klaus had you pressed onto his table. You could feel paper and a few pens beneath you as he lightly slapped you across the face. Not to hurt, but to warn.

You bit your lip not even in the slightest intimidated by his presence anymore, not when the option to be attracted to it was there. You pulled his head down kissing his lips and grinding your hips against him. He pressed them down, preventing you from moving, as he slowly kissed down your neck, stopping to nip and suck on it while he plastered your collarbones with bruising kisses. It hurt, but the pleasure quickly overtook and you had to suppress a moan, remembering that downstairs was a party full of vampires.

Klaus chuckled as his tongue licked over the peak of your breast and swirled around it, "Don't be shy darling," he whispered his voice hoarse, "Let them hear." You moaned as he bit down on your nipple drawing blood from you, and your hands pulled on his hair as he did the same to the other side. He obviously wanted to be in control, but you were having none of that, you quickly pulled his face back up and rolled you two around so you were now straddling him. Having wanted this for so long you were not eager to wait. You quickly disposed of his shirt before unclasping his jeans.

Klaus watched you and chuckled, before he lifted you up without any effort, and sped you both towards the big chair in the corner. He quickly pressed you down to your knees and shook his head almost mockingly as you tried to stand up again. He clicked with his tongue disapprovingly, "Eager little girl, you are lucky I am in a giving mood today, otherwise I'd make you beg for what you want," he chuckled and a shiver ran through your body. He chuckled, "Seems like you'd be a fan of that, wouldn't you?"

The question was rhetoric and you didn't answer. He left out a soft laugh as he saw your dazzled face, his grip in your hair growing stronger pulling you towards his groin, "Do you wish for an instruction handbook, or do you know what to do?," he mocked you his voice growing darker, and his eyes flashed yellow his werewolf side coming out, as you pulled his suit pants down and he kicked them away.

Beneath his boxers you could see his cock getting hard and realized how big he was. You wetted your lips, trying to regain your composure as you steadied yourself on his thighs as you touched him a little through them until you decided to take matters into your own hands and pulled it down.

You slowly licked a path down his length pressing your tongue flat against him, licking up his precum eagerly. You looked up through your lashes meeting his demanding gaze, his grip in your hair got tighter and more demanding. You wanted to tease him a little more but his grip in your hair tightened and you only had time to relax your jaw before he started to fuck your mouth. Klaus growled and moved his hips in sync with your mouth, pushing himself deeper. His cock pushed deep into your throat and you gagged, but that only made him twitch. You looked up at him and noticed him locking eyes with you as he sped up his movements.

Tears escaped your eyes, at the rough and brutal pace he had set. He wanted to pull off, but you knew it only needed a little bit more effort, so you grabbed his balls with your hand, massaging them while you sucked on his cock. You felt him shudder and his cock twitch as he pulled out and released himself, his cum spilling over your body. You looked down at yourself and Klaus growled satisfied. Your face was stained with the mascara and his thumb stroked over your cheekbone, almost tender for a second. He smiled down at you, awaiting your next move.

"You are so pretty, all painted in my cum," he mumbled, patting his lap. You didn't even hesitate a second, taking off your remaining panties before you climbed into his lap. He still wore a shirt and after you relished a little in the fact that you were completely naked, while he was clothed, you pulled his shirt over his head tossing it aside, with a smirk. You bit your lip admiring his biceps, and trailing your fingers down his chest. Klaus groaned approvingly as you started to kiss his neck, determined to leave a Hickey.

He chuckled and pulled away slightly, "It will heal in a second," he reminded you and you rolled your eyes, "I do love to try to make it last, tho," you whispered into his ear and moved slowly against his leg.

He groaned slightly, the sound of your wet pussy sliding against this naked leg obscene, and the fact he was enjoying it so much only made you want him more.

"There is one thing you don't know about me," Klaus whispered back, "I am not really a patient man," he said before he grabbed your hips and pulled you up lowering you on his cock without hesitation, "Now ride me properly, before I show you what happens to teasing little whores."

You slapped him slightly, before you started to grind against him, "Don't call me whore," you hissed and he chuckled gripping your ass helping you to find a pace.

"Oh but why not, love?," he asked innocently, "Do you think every girl just gives themselves to someone like me?"

"I would say probably more than you could count," you said and sped your pace up a little, your thighs were burning, but you were determined to show no weakness, having him like this felt powerful. You wrapped your arms around his throat, "Or am I wrong?," you whispered and he grinned suggestively.

"No, you certainly aren't wrong with your assumption, but it still doesn't change a thing," he said and smacked your ass lightly to get you to grind even faster. You felt tired, but decided to not stop, planting his arms on his shoulders trying to move faster.

"Yes, that's right, fuck yourself on my cock," he groaned as you lifted yourself up and down quicker. One hand stayed up on your waist steading you, the other was wrapped around your throat in an instant cutting off your airwave. You groaned slightly, the adrenaline that the oxygen deprivation sent through you was delicious and made you want to stay in this position forever.

Klaus growled as your pussy tightened around him, "Please," you whispered your limbs burning, not able to keep up the pace. He pressed his hips upwards and took your waist lifting you up and down with no effort, as if you were the lightest thing in the world.

"Cum," he commanded and his demanding tone was everything you needed to be sent over the edge. You fell forward, your forehead hitting his shoulder as your high crashed over you. Klaus chuckled and held onto you stroking your back soothingly, as you came down from your high. He trusted upwards into you a little bit more before he came as well, spilling himself inside you.

"Aww, is my little witch tired?," he asked with a smile as he looked at you. He turned you around pulling out, his gaze roaming over you hungry. You were completely spend, his cum from earlier still sticky on you, he smiled kissing down your neck, his teeth grazing over your pulse point. You whimpered looking up from under him and he ran his fingers through your hair, suddenly pulling it back. His grip was rough and his eyes golden, as he sank his fangs into your neck.

You groaned and tried to relax as he drew blood from you, but the pleasure and pain were battling and you couldn't help but grab his head, tugging at his hair. You weren't even sure what you were trying to do, if you wanted him to bite harder or let go. Maybe a mixture of both. He chuckled letting go of you, and you looked him in the eyes as you traced the dark veins under his eyes.

He licked up the remaining blood and you couldn't help but shiver under his tongue. "Come on love," he growled into your ear, "Let's get you cleaned up and continue this little game."

[hiroshiii13]

I need Bingge yuan harem. Concubine SY, especially if he was bride napped. I want Bingge jealous of his own harem bcus it feels like punching cotton the way SY’s well adjusted and unbothered.

Bing: WDYM HE’S NOT ANGRY I HAVEN’T TURNED HIS NAME PLATE?? WHY IS HE NOT SCHEMING?

I want all the hallmarks of palace intrigue!!

SY getting sick from a lack of firewood in his palace. ZZL, his servant, stopping BH’s palanquin at the risk of death. Bowing to the emperor to ask for an imperial physician.

And Bingge trying to be nonchalant, but follows after the physician, asks the royal kitchen to make the most precious nourishing soup. ((He eventually cooks it himself after being so worried)).

Bingge’s interest starts to build. Secretly going (peeping) in the royal gardens as SY spends his time observing the flowers in full bloom. Trying his best to casually make an entrance.

Bingge’s bday banquet comes along, with priceless gifts stacked as far as the eye can see.

SY (w/ no powerful backing) procuring a small jade charm and medicinal sachet with hand embroidered details. Bingge directly asking for where SY’s gift is and keeping it on his person.

And every time after they meet Bingge thinks SY would invite him to stay the night, but he doesn’t. Bingge doesn’t need to ask, he knows. Taking SY as a concubine was a joke. But now he was getting serious about wanting him, to want it. For wanting SY to ask for it.

So he pulls his wild nature back and pretends to be soft and harmless. He always flips his name plate but never stays the night. Sometimes SY plays the qin for him, or sings, sometimes it’s just sending gifts or conversations during meals. Bingge wants his company the most.

Hell, maybe I can introduce a common enemy which allows the northern and southern kingdoms to unite (and get my moshang fix).

SY decides to follow Bingge in war while the rest of the harem stays back. He says he isn’t as delicate and he would follow Bingge through this hardship

Bingge doesn’t allow this but SY sneaks out anyway. With only the clothes on his back, some food and a dagger he travels up north to be w/ Bingge.

(Angst) Of course he’s captured along the way. And forced to become a courtesan. They meet again with SY under a new identity as a gift in the name of diplomacy.

Bingge feels betrayed, all this time? Was it all for this? Was he meant to fall in love and give away his kingdom?

After months of not seeing each other, all the hurt, confusion and longing was surmised in Bingge’s “is he good in bed?”

And he didn’t mean to say that. Especially seeing SY’s eyes glisten and his lips upturned in a sad smile. But the diplomat said how well behaved he is, how good he is.

SY bowed down and answered “my services have always been top notch.”

They fuck. Not in the way he imagined; Nothing of that sort of slow and careful lovemaking w soft whispers and laughter. There was no tenderness at all.

As SY expertly swallowed his dick, rather than bliss there was a feeling of loss in his heart. His most precious treasure, how did he become like this?

‘Was this your plan, all along?’

‘You can think what you want.’

And with that there were no more words between them. Only heavy pants and bruising bites and lots of kisses.

There were time when Bingge thought SY loved him. Maybe it was when he tried pulling out and SY locked his ankles around his hips begging him to stay inside. Maybe it was when he willingly put his arms above his head as Bingge restrained him roughly or maybe it was how he looked at him, tears falling, back arched trying to accommodate all that Bingge could give.

But Bingge would not think of that anymore. The peace talks commenced, the world condemned this stupid emperor. Honey trapped!! By a male courtesan at that!!

Most changed their mind and thought that they would be better off being a vassal state, cursing the emperor.

What the world didn’t know was the rivaling kingdom never meant to let them off. As drought became worse and tithes more absurd, the people only suffered.

Of course SY has had been slowly feeding the North intel with the help of ZZL. 🤩 He used his unique position to learn their schemes but did not tell Bingge.

At this time Bingge was essentially on house arrest, to ensure that they would push through with the treaty.

The Northern Consort schemed while his husband raised their joint army, readying to storm the rivaling kingdom.

They battle it out, and the forces of LBH and MBJ win decisively.

SY looks for Bingge, afraid of being left behind, of being disdained for the rest of his life.

In true palace intrigue fashion, he comes in time, just as someone was about to plunge a dagger into Bingge. He sacrifices himself instead.

There was no need I love yous or I’m sorrys. He knew he was loved. maybe it was a change of heart? Bingge thought.

But talking to MBJ, Bingge realized how wrong he had been. How painstakingly he helped, hiding in plain sight. And through it all, how he carried it all alone.

ZZL tended to his master choking back sobs. He could not help but feel aggrieved.

‘I should have stayed with him, this was all my fault. I should have never listened to him.’

‘What do you mean?’ Bingge arrived shortly after.

‘My master, told me to buy food in the city. I knew he was hiding something.

He left me a letter saying not to worry, that he’ll be running after the emperor’s envoy.’

‘I looked for him but only found his horse and drag marks in the soil. Later I heard he was taken by force.’

Bingge’s knees buckled from the weight of this revelation but he still crawled towards SY’s bed. How harsh had he treated him the first time they met again. How cruel were his words?

As Bingge grasped that gift SY painstakingly made for his birthday, he whispered, ‘SY, wake up, I will never wrong you again in this lifetime. Please wake up.’

But there was only a deafening silence in response.

SY woke up 5 days later, thank god that dagger was not poisoned or it would’ve been a different ending!!

Bingge tended to SY since then, practically a roundworm in his belly. The harem could NOT even visit him for long periods of time lest they draw the ire of a very jealous emperor!

Food was always prepared by Bingge. A truckload of new exquisite clothes was received. It was rumored that SY was so favoured that his palace was inlaid with gold, silver and precious stones.

But more than changes since then, they’ve decided to return to how they were. Bingge would visit him while SY played for him or sang. SY would frolic in the royal gardens, but this time Bingge would accompany him.

And when Bingge was invited to stay the night? They lay a white sheet on top of their bed rather quickly, yet spent the night in an almost torturous simmer. Getting reacquainted w e/o bodies between lots of hot kisses, bruising grips and soft laughter.

The outside world thought it was a truly ridiculous situation. A foolish emperor who surrendered it all for a male courtesan. And a male courtesan who was worth a whole kingdom, yet haphazardly threw his life for an impending puppet emperor.

But as the story was passed on, and the truth was revealed, the once absurd tale was changed to a story of an enduring love between the emperor and his favored male concubine.

(END)

[messyyythoughts]

princess from afar.

gladiator 2 marcus acacius x female!princess reader.

author’s note: this idea came to me like a holy vision after watching like 100 gladiator 2 trailer edits of Pedro Pascal. god save us all when that movie is finally out. it will be feral girl hours!!! also MAYBE SPOILERS??? idk be careful x

small disclaimer: so... I haven’t had the pleasure of watching the first Gladiator movie, my apologies beforehand if anything is inaccurate lore-wise! I tried to go off what I knew of Ancient Rome and take inspiration from the movie and the sequel coming out later this year. I hope you all enjoy!

summary: you are a princess from far away visiting Rome under its new Emperors. the Roman General catches your eye, and you catch his.

warnings: gladiator-like violence.

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Your visit to Rome under its new twin Emperors has been eventful. 

Your father and brothers were too occupied in your homelands to go themselves, leaving you as the sole candidate. Your father assured you plenty of times prior to departure that you were a perfect choice. Well-versed in languages and histories, practised in the arts and skills of diplomacy. You already had everything you needed to make it a successful visit, and establish a favourable relationship with Rome. Initially you had been nervous, understandably, your country’s standing with the most powerful empire on the planet came down to this visit, it weighed on your shoulders. But, upon arrival, the entire court of Rome, its government and its Emperors were inexplicably fascinated with you. Whether it was your beauty, which they had never witnessed before, or your personality or talents you could not say. Upon realising the hold you had over your hosts, you played everything to your advantage.

Dinner parties, festivals, meetings, trips into the city, you did it all with a smile and impeccable appearance. You had been accompanied by some of your loyal ladies, of course, who worked their magic each and every morning to ensure a flawless appearance greeted the court of Rome. You were mastering the art of diplomacy and playing your part, it was perfect. Then came the Colosseum. You were personally invited by one of the twin Emperors, Geta, to sit by his side and watch battles of all manner take place. Intrigued, as you did not have such a thing back home, you agreed. At first, you were shocked by the barbarity of it all, but upon seeing the joy it brought the crowds of spectators and the purpose it gave the fighters… you understood that it was another moving part of Rome and her empire. So, you applauded and followed the Emperor’s lead, which he loved. He was constantly seeking your company and favour, you felt yourself walking a dangerous line of a marriage proposal should you entice him too much. Such a thing would delight your father, but you weren’t so keen on your safety if you ever married the Emperor. There was just something about these types of men that made you keep your guard up.

After a few of these battles in the Colosseum, you grew to understand the addictiveness of watching and betting and waiting to see who came out on top. Some days wild beasts were released, other days it was man against fellow man. You saw enough blood and grime and hurt to last you a lifetime, but smiled through all of it when the Emperor glanced at you, grinning wildly. You had grown used to the intricacies of the glorious gladiator battles, and attended even when Geta had not personally sought you out to extend the invitation, as he now simply expected your presence at his side. It was on one of the Colosseum days that your visit would become even more intriguing.

You arrived that day fresh-faced, hair immaturely arranged, dress clean and jewellery gleaming in the sun. You had bathed in rose petals the night before and the smell danced around you as you greeted the Emperor and took your seat next to him. He kissed your hand, making eye contact with you before turning his attention to the Colosseum. The crowds were filling their seats, rows and rows of them all packed in trying to get a favourable view of the promised entrainment. A set of heavy footsteps behind made you turn your head, and you saw a man in white and gold, a sword at his hip, enter the Emperor’s box. You stood, a feeling deep down telling you that this man was important, as he approached. You had not noticed the spare seat next to the Emperor today, you should’ve known someone else was coming. The wide-shouldered, bronze-skinned man could’ve easily been mistaken for one of Rome’s Gods, you thought, watching him greet the Emperor. Then, the Emperor gestured to you.

“The beautiful Princess from afar, General Acacius. Isn’t she a sight to behold?” The Emperor’s eyes roved up and down your dress, and you feigned embarrassment. The General took your hand and kissed it, bowing respectfully as he did.

“Princess, forgive me. I was not informed of royalty accompanying the Emperor today. Do you mind if I join you both today for the entertainment?” You smiled prettily, eyes on his.

“Please, General, I am but a guest, you are Rome’s commander. Be welcome.” He nodded, taking his seat on the other side of Emperor Geta after you had sat yourself. Your hand was tingling with excitement from where he’d held and kissed it. For such a large, muscled man, he had a gentle touch. And he was so well dressed, rivalling yourself in his white and gold. He had golden leaves woven into his hair, brunette but speckled with grey. His beard was neat, trimmed. Your eyes lingered on his nose, a masterpiece carved by the Roman Gods themselves, surely. Your breath caught in your chest and you remembered yourself, fixing your attention on the Colosseum before you.

Though you tried to not give the handsome General too much attention, you felt his eyes lingering on you all the same.

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The fights were over, the crowds appeased, the sand of the Colosseum soaked with patches of blood and a few bodies. Geta had grown bored of the day and declared a feast to be held in the evening, all should attend. He swept away, guards following, and left you in the box bowing at his exit. The General’s warm eyes met yours when Geta was gone and he half-smiled.

“I suppose you shall be in attendance tonight, Princess from afar?” He asked, one hand on his sword, the other resting atop it.

“Of course, General. Will I see you there? You must be a busy man.” You replied, walking out of the box, holding your skirts up to take the steps.

“I will make my best efforts to attend, your Grace.” He bowed as you left, watching you go. He couldn’t fathom your existence, such beauty all in one person, such grace and softness. How could any man send you this far away on your lonesome? He gripped his sword hilt before relaxing and following you up the steps.

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You took to napping that late afternoon, then gossiped away with your ladies. They had just finished embroidering a gown that your father had sent along as a gift, and insisted that you wear it to please the Emperor tonight. They knew all of the goings on within the Emperor's palace, and for that you were thankful. They took out your hair, and agreed that a looser style would suit the intimacy of the evening feast. Precious gemstones were pinned into your hair, a reminder of your status as a Princess. The gown was arranged and fastened, you wore light slippers on your feet. Once the ladies had decided on appropriate jewellery and makeup, they finished by spritzing you with fresh rose water and then escorted you to the feast themselves. They, sadly, would not be joining you but would instead be waiting for you upon your return. You thanked them for their efforts, and they waved you into the dining hall, where the court was drinking and conversing in the candlelight as the feast was brought out.

Emperor Geta spotted you immediately. You obliged him and joined him in conversation with many different nobles and members of the court, though your Italian was good, sometimes you found some words did not quite translate in your head. You nodded instead and glanced at Geta with a radiant smile and a polite laugh if appropriate. You excused yourself for food and a wine refresh, glad for a moment alone where your brain could rest from translating entire sentences. Your smile dropped for just a moment and you wandered out to a balcony for real fresh air. Elbows leaning on the immaculate stone, you sipped your wine, staring out at the night sky and wondering if your family were awake or asleep back home. Were they thinking of you? You were thinking of them, always. When would it be time to go home? You put your goblet down and sighed, realising that you had put off these homesick thoughts by throwing yourself into life here in Rome.

“Princess,” You straightened up at the sound of someone’s voice approaching from the dining hall, then smiled in slight embarrassment when you saw the General carefully making his way out onto the balcony. “Peace and quiet at last.” He smiled, taking a place next to you on the balcony. He held no wine and carried no sword this time. He had changed into less golden attire, but it still made him look like a God disguised as a human.

“General Acacius, a pleasure to see you tonight.” You curtseyed and he bowed deeply, then took your hand and kissed the back lightly. His brown eyes caught you watching him with wonder on your face. “You are well versed in the ways of nobility and court, I am pleasantly surprised.” You said, trying to fill the air between you both. There was something about how he watched you so calmly, coolly, it set your insides alight.

“When you find yourself surrounded by certain types, you adapt.” He replied, leaning on the balcony with one arm, facing you.

“Not so different from a battlefield, I suppose?” You sipped your wine, eyes meeting his. He shook his head.

“Life is a battlefield, Princess, for everyone. Do you not find all of this a constant battle?” He glanced at the rowdy dining hall. You turned and made sure Geta wasn’t staring daggers at you, but he was nowhere to be seen. The crowd had grown somehow, and the feast was almost gone. You considered it all for a moment, before answering.

“I do see how one could view it as a battlefield, but I would not see myself as a warrior.” The General’s eyes widened, he grinned.

“I see you as a warrior, Princess, a valuable warrior. Do not diminish yourself, you may not be wielding a sword above your head, but your mind is just as sharp. I have heard stories of your visit so far, they love you. I fear you will never leave.” Though he meant it as humour, the thought of never leaving made you feel sick.

“Do you think I will ever go home?” You asked, suddenly desperate to hear someone say it. He searched your face, standing tall.

“Of course. You have a family awaiting your return, do you not?” The General’s hands folded before him. You nodded. “Who awaits you in your faraway land, Princess?” He asked, softly. You smiled at the stars.

“My father and brothers, General. You would enjoy them, if they ever visit.” The General stepped closer, admiring your little smile as you spoke of your family. His big hands took your wine from you and set it down. “He won’t keep me here will he?” You asked in a whisper, almost too scared to say it aloud. General Acacius studied your features for a heartbeat, then another. He could see the sadness hidden deep in your eyes, something many had never noticed in your time here. He saw the falter of your smile at the corner of your lips, even if for a moment. He had only met you hours before, but he found himself growing fond of you, the idea of you staying, but he knew it would only deepen your sadness.

“No, he is obsessive at times, but he will let you go. Your father would cross the seas for you, would he not, if you did not return?” You nodded and a little tear escaped your tired eyes. You wiped at it quickly, taking your wine from the General with a smile. You finished it and sighed.

“I think I shall retire for the evening, we are due back in the Colosseum tomorrow, are we not?” He stepped back, giving you space, and bowed. You curtseyed back, and he watched you reenter the dining hall. You slipped through the high energy crowd, making small apologies and nodding politely when they noticed you. Acacius wished he had told you to call him Marcus, he would tell you tomorrow, at the Colosseum.

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You took the long way back to your rooms, meandering around corners and admiring the architecture. You had so much to tell your father and brothers when you got back, you were hoping you remembered it all. Maybe writing it down somewhere would help empty your mind of all these thoughts of home? You saw your room at last, and slipped off your satin sippers. Picking them up, you heard a scuffle down the hallway. It was all darkness beyond your door, shadows seemed to move up there… No, it was the wine talking. You slowly stood, shoes in hand, hand to your head. Maybe forgoing wine in the future would be wise. You lay one hand on the door to open it, but felt the floor go out from under you, your weight was flung over and you were resting on someone’s shoulder. They started to run away from your door, so you screamed. You dropped your slippers as your kidnapper turned a corner, you heard your door open and your ladies' voices.

“Help me!” You called out again, before pairs of light, fast footsteps began following your screams. You struggled to free yourself from the grip of the person carrying you, they were turning corners and taking passageways you had never seen before. You kept screaming, but your ladies couldn’t catch up. They lost you, calling out your name and crying. You were thrown from the shoulder of your kidnapper to the floor, it was dark and dim down here in the bowels of the Emperor’s palace, the night air was cool. You felt your elbows gaze against tiles. Your kidnapper bent down, forcing a rag over your face, you struggled, nails digging into their wrist but with one inhale you lost all control of yourself and went dark.

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Sunlight streaming in on your face woke you up. It was bright, hot, you felt dry and sick. Pushing yourself up, you saw that you were chained in a cell, and could hear crowds roaring outside. Your head rolled, but finally steadied itself against the stone wall behind you. Your eyes were adjusting to daylight, you felt awful. You had just begun to recall the events of the night before when the sound of your cell unlocking and the appearance of a gladiator caught your attention.

“Good afternoon Princess. Ready for your grand entrance?” He smirked, hauling you up by your shoulder and forcing you to walk out of the cell. He steered you through small passageways, dimly lit except for stray rays of sunlight, you passed other cells with men chained up in corners. Your heart dropped, you were underneath the Colosseum. Was this the Emperor’s doing? Had he ordered you kidnapped for leaving the feast early without his permission? Had the General feigned friendliness only to arrange your kidnapping last night? You came to a room where all light was blocked by a gate, weapons were carelessly discarded, armour too. “Drink this, we can’t have you giving a bad performance for your Emperor.” Water was tipped down your throat, it spilt over your lips and down your neck, onto your dress.

“Did he order this?” You demanded, finding your voice. The gladiator’s eyes were dark, evil. He looked you up and down before speaking.

“No, it’s our little surprise to him, so put on a good show for us, Princess.” He approached the gate and banged with his fist three times, you heard the sound of hinges creaking, and sunlight filled the room. The gladiator hauled you up the slope and out into the very Colosseum you had been presiding over yesterday. The crowds were cheering wildly, unaware of who had just entered their arena. The gate slammed shut behind you, and you turned around, banging on it with chained fists.

“I have no quarrel with yourselves, or the Emperor, let me out of here at once!” You shouted, back to the gate. No voice came from the other side, your heart sank again. Hands chained and head on a swivel, you ran out to the centre of the Colosseum, hoping, praying that the Emperor would recognise you and order you saved.

You saw Geta stand, leaning over the Emperor’s box, then he started shouting. Movement in his box gave you a glimmer of hope that someone was coming to get you out of here alive. But then, the gates behind you opened again, and a stream of armoured men ran out, banging their armour and showing off their weapons. The crowd went berserk. You fell to your knees, realising your fate, and kept your eyes trained on the Emperor’s box. You thought of your father’s face when he was told the news by a prim and powdered envoy from Rome that his daughter had been slaughtered in the Colosseum. You prayed for good lives for your brothers, that they raise strong families that look after your homeland. The tears had started and you couldn’t stop them. You were hauled from your knees, your dress ripping and forced to stand.

“The Princess from afar will die for your entertainment today!” One of the gladiators yelled, displaying you to the crowds. Their cheers died down, and a ripple of confusion passed through them. You were released, and encircled by a half a dozen armoured gladiators with bloodthirsty expressions on their grimy, unshaven faces.

“You gain nothing from my murder, gladiator.” You spat, the anger beginning to take over. They laughed and brandished weapons of all manner. Swords, nets, daggers, tridents. “How can any of you stand there and murder a defenceless, chained woman, in full armour with sharp weapons in your hands? Have you no honour, no bravery? You fear a woman so greatly she must be killed in chains and unarmed? Cowards, all of you, a disgrace to your brothers!” You yelled, hoping that the words would buy you time. A few of the gladiators seemed uneasy as you spoke. Then, one strode forward, grabbed your chains and used his sword to shatter the link. Still cuffed, but now free to move your hands, he backed away, eyes on yours. “There is one brave enough to approach amongst you, at least.” You shook your hands and let the chains fall to your bare feet, burning in the sand.

A beat of hesitation from the others passed, before one gave in and ran at you, roaring. He held a long sword above his head, clad in armour, taller and broader than you. All you could see was one of your brothers charging at you with their wood practice swords as children, pretending to spear you rather than save you. You stood there, ready to greet death without the satisfaction of screaming or wailing, but at the very last moment you threw yourself aside and he missed. The crowd went up in a frenzy. His sword struck the sand and he looked over his shoulder at you, eyes tearing into yours.

Maybe you had decided not to die here.

He ran again, and you did the same, but you knew these gladiators were wise in strategy and learned their opponents' ways fast. He started swinging his sword at you, giving you little time to move out of the way, he caught your upper arms or dress where you were too slow, drawing thin lines of blood across your skin. Seeing the red made him hungry for more, and he did not relent in his attacks. You used the metal cuffs on your wrists to stop his sword taking your head off of your neck, and he grunted in anger, stepping back. The crowd were in uproar. He twirled his sword in his hand, idly, thinking as he surveyed you. You spotted a shorter sword sheathed on his hip, it would be madness to try and take it, he’d surely kill you at that distance, but you needed a weapon. You stood no chance of making it out alive or surviving until rescue if you had no weapon, you could only dodge and weave for so long, the other gladiators would be fiercer, more brutal, they were building up their stamina minute by minute.

The long sword narrowly grazed your side, you cried out and pressed a hand to your dress. It was torn open, bloodied already. Your hand came away red, your eyes widened. The gladiator’s shoulders were rolling, he wanted to land another hit. You had an idea, a wild one, but it would get you close to the short sword. You had to do it just right, you moved slower, hand pressed to your injured side. He swung again, missing, a second time, missing again. The third time you let him catch you again, and you went to your knees, crying out. The crowd booed, outraged. He grinned, ecstatic at the thought he was the first to face you and have you down on your knees injured, he approached, sword wet with your blood. His hand grabbed your chin, lifting it up to face him, you started up the tears again. “Just make it quick, you brute.” You hissed, panting. He grinned like a devil, lifting up his long sword, but as he went to swing down, you had his short sword unsheathed and drove it upwards to a gap where his chest armour didn’t cover his abdomen.

A wet sound, he stumbled, dropped the sword, took bumbling steps backwards. His face was a picture of shock, he fell dramatically onto his back, blood rushing from his new wound. You picked up the long sword, its weight foreign in your hand, and backed away from the body. The other gladiators all looked at one another in silence. The crowd, however, were anything but. You stood, eyeing up the five remaining gladiators. They watched their brother die and squirm, before looking back to you. Though they did seem reluctant to be the next to face you, they all closed in, weapons gleaming in the sunlight. Then the gate behind you opened, the one under the Emperor’s box. They all paused, and you half-turned to watch.

General Acacius came striding out, armoured up, sword in hand, the expression on his face was one carved from marble by the Roman Gods of war and death. His anger rolled across the Colosseum, his muscles strained as he stalked towards you and the five gladiators. He said nothing as he reached you, he did not spare you a glance, he made a straight-cut line for the remaining gladiators.

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Despite the fact you were openly bleeding from several cuts, your dress was a mess and you were devoid of your sunny smile, General Acacius was focused solely on the gladiators. You watched as the once reluctant men now fired themselves up with the promise of a real fight. But before you could run to the open gates, they encircled you and the General together, forcing you to back away from your escape route. The General surveyed the gladiators with a disgusted expression, and then it all happened at once.

All five gladiators charged, two at you, three at the General. While you had no doubts about the General’s capability to survive, you seriously doubted yours. You had no time to get any words out before one of the two was upon you, bringing a trident down, you raised your long sword with two hands and barely held him off, nearly going down to one knee with the effort. He backed away, the sharp prongs of the trident begging to be buried into flesh. Mouth dry, you watched the two gladiators exchange a look before the one wielding a long sword charged, you met him, not blow for blow but enough to keep him off of you. The General had already downed one of his gladiators and was onto the second and third. The crowd were cheering, chanting, stampeding in their seats. The trident flew past your head, landing in the General’s field of battle. Without hesitation, he picked it up, threw it back and met his attacker swiftly with his sword, never missing a beat. The trident had pinned the gladiator who owned it down, lodged in his arm, he struggled against the prongs. You felt sick.

The long sword came down at you again, you threw yourself out of the way, too tired to meet it with your own sword again. Your arms bled and ached from the weight of this weapon, you did not possess the same muscles as these men. You were not trained in the art of war, fighting other humans, or wielding weapons. Your brothers had tried to train you as children but your father had quickly intervened and warned them that you had no use for such things, as they would always be there to protect you. You wished dearly now that you had continued attending your brothers’ training sessions against your father’s orders. The sword narrowly missed your chest, you were shaking with the effort to breathe and move and fight all at the same time. You weren’t even sure your heart was still beating.

Your sword met his again, he was getting bored, tired of playing nice. You had to meet his blows to protect yourself, as tiring as it was. Your eyes scoured his armour for weak spots, a glimpse of vulnerable flesh… nothing. You took a few quick steps back, gaining distance, and time to think. Then the General downed his third gladiator, and turned to spot you warding off yours. The General advanced, sword slick with blood, but not before the gladiator rushed you and knocked you off your feet. He was atop you, sword poised to go through your chest, but not before you drove yours through his neck. The angle had given you the advantage, just. He rolled off of you, clutching at his neck, gargling on his own blood. He drowned before you, red spilling from his mouth and neck. His hands were covered in his own hot sticky blood, his eyes open as he died. You stood, covered in his blood, and watched as the General finished off the final gladiator who was pinned beneath his own trident like a fish.

You threw your sword aside, disgusted, horrified, on the verge of tears. General Acacius sheathed his own sword and ran to you. Without a word, he had you up in his arms, his nose in your hair.

“Are you hurt, Princess?” He asked, his voice low. You could barely make it out over the crowd’s collective cheering and celebrating.

“A little, General.” You said, clinging to his armour. He held you tight, making for the gate.

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The Roman court and government were in an absolute outrage at your kidnap and torture in the Colosseum. Both of the Emperors ordered the gladiators and slaves brought before them to find the one behind it, but you were too sick to care. Whoever had been behind it had got their way, you were thoroughly shamed and defeated. You had survived, but at what cost?

The General took you straight to the physician. He stayed guarding the room as your wounds were cleaned, packed and dressed. Your beautiful embroidered dress was cut away, to be thrown on the fire. It was soaked in gladiator blood. You watched the General pace the room, hand gripping his sword, jaw set. It took time for the physician to do his work, but he was finally satisfied and allowed you to rest. The General, however, did not leave when the old physician did. He let you settle before speaking to you. You sat yourself up in the bed, thin sheets over your battered body. You had accumulated some nasty bruises from throwing yourself out of harm’s way.

“Princess…” He said softly, kneeling at your bedside. You looked at him with tear-stained eyes and a weak smile. “I will find who did this, they will pay. We will have their heads.” He said this with his head bowed, as if in prayer. You leaned down to him, your fingers lifting his chin. Your eyes met.

“You saved my life, Acacius, that is enough.” His eyes took you in, he thought of you as a star robbed of its starlight. A rose shaken free of its petals.

“Please call me Marcus, Princess.” You breathed deeply for a moment and nodded.

“Marcus, do not let your bloodlust cloud your judgement. I am alive, and I am grateful for that. I will return home when I am well.” His hands took yours, and he traced the back of them for a moment. The words hung in the air, unseen, unheard.

“Will you ever return to Rome?” He asked, holding your fingers out.

“I do not know, when my father hears of this… I could not say if I will be permitted to return one day, Marcus.” Your untidy hair fell in your face, finally freeing itself of its gemstone pins from the night before. Marcus reached up, gingerly placing the hair behind your ear. His touch was featherlight, as if he was scared you would shatter at any moment. He said nothing as he memorised the lines on the palm of your hand, red and sore from the long sword’s handle and weight. You sank further into the bed, watching him, his face. You wanted to paint it and frame it in your bedchambers at home, so you would never forget what he looked like.

He then placed the softest kiss on the back of your hand, then your wrist. Your body lit up like a bonfire, like the moon and stars on a dark night, and he looked up at you.

“If you do not return, will you let me remember you?” He asked, taking in the faded scent of rose from your wrist. It was washed away by sweat and blood and hot water now, but he knew it lingered, lest it be his imagination.

“I would want you to remember me, as I will remember you.” You replied eventually, he appeared relieved at this, and suddenly raised himself up to your bed, inches above you. He paused, eyes flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes, your hair. “Do it, I will not regret it.” You whispered, eyes on his lips. With all of the care in Rome, he gave you your first and last kiss, he touched your hair, the side of your face. When he pulled away, he looked down, eyes avoiding yours. “When I go, will you see me?” You asked, voice tight.

“I would not miss it for the world, Princess from afar.” He quickly kissed your head, your wild hair, before withdrawing from your bed and taking himself out of your room.

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You would see him once more when you departed for home with your ladies. Emperor Geta made a grand show of escorting you to the docks and seeing you board your ship bound for your homeland. It had been such a long time, it felt, since you had seen your father and brothers. Geta was sending you with heaps of gifts and treasures for your family, partly as a show of your efforts, and partly as an apology for your kidnap. When the General approached to say his goodbye, kissing your hand firmly with eyes closed, he slipped you something, which you hid down the front of your dress and didn’t open until the ship was sailing.

In your hands now lay a simple gold chain with the retrieved gemstones from your hairpins dangling from it. You smiled to yourself and slipped the necklace on, closing your eyes and wondering if one day you would return to Rome and see him again.

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messyyythoughts © 2024 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support and feedback always welcomed <3

[miifu666]

I seen your thoughts on suklha thoughts on black myth characters; now I’m wondering what would suklha thoughts on the LMK cast be 🤔

Helloo♡♡

😭😭 god this is gonna be so long please bear with me— ANYWAY

The main Crew

MK - Suklha doesn't hate him, but she DOES get irritated at how hyperactively clumsy he is. She's walking through her life with a poised and perfect form and he's coming in. SIMILAR to wukong in terms of how slobby they can be and impatient. It irritates her like a mother would to a child who couldn't eat his food properly. Besides that, she keeps track of him and makes sure he's improving far more than the monkey king would let on. Might buy him a noodle or two just to spend time, just a little repay for trying to fix Suklha and Monkey King's relationship

Mei - aww She likes her, probably has a good relationship with her ancestor and some of her family. She's a trusted lawyer to them since the olde days, Suklha sees Mei more like a niece along with MK. Suklha is more involved in her family and works behind closed doors, probably a good reason why Mei doesn't acknowledge Suklha till her reveal. The small chance of Mei recognizing Suklha is probably from Media social, and thats only from her name and reputation.

Red Son - has met Suklha a couple of time to accompany his mother's visit. Knows she's bad news and tries to get the gang see how powerful she is. To stop being so clumsy and speedread everything she gave them without double checking. Trust her enough to ask her advice but not enough to help his "friends"

Pigsy - There's some time in her career where Suklha bought more noodles than people think she could handle. She doesn't know the chef personally, but she has a good review of the restaurant. Also, every time she orders the noodles, it gives her a good reason to talk to MK. Funny enough, Pigsy remembers her order (its always consistent) and her fake name she used.

Mr.Tang - generally sees him as a dork. A dork with a dork ancestor and insanely powerful ability for a human, he's a loyal reader at her library. Theres a wicked sense of pride everytime she sees Tang being more knowledgeable than the rest of the crew when it comes to history, she thinks its because of her books. Mr. Tang, as he always is. Would fangirl over Suklha if they were to meet face to face.

Sandy - has seen him around, bately interacted with him. Even if she did, Sandy won't recognize her much. He's not that up to date with drama.

Rest ××××××

Macaque - has a good relationship with him. Considering this macaque is different than the JTTW one, Suklha has a much closer bond to him than the rest. Theres a couple of time where Macaque sneaks in Suklha's office just to talk, to vent or to check up on her. She greatly appreciates his Company, both of them had a problem towards the same person. They bond a little bit over that.

Princess Iron Fan - Both has a similar way of talking, of viewing the world. With the difference of Suklha having a little bit hope of interacting with humanity, while PIF prefers her solitude. They acknowledge eachothers power, enough to be friends. One might sass the other every time they meet, of course this is from a friendly spite.

Demon Bull King - too spiteful to be friends with Suklha, still clings on to her past actions. Which is understandable to Suklha, she doesn't dare force someone to forgive her. He's a bit grateful for her to give his wife her company though, quietly he thanks her.

Brotherhood - They tried to recruit Suklha once back then, she denied. Some of them thought of her quite cowardly, Azure was one of the few that looked up to her a bit. Yet, pity her for the sense of loneliness she's walking in. The brotherhood believed if they managed to recruit her in the past, she could help them overthrow the jade emperor using her strategies. She barely bats an eye over them, besides Azure.

Gold and Silver demons - afraid of her. Has been sued for Intentional misrepresentation (Fraud), Tax evasion, and property damage. They went poor for a while.

Lady Bone Demon - Seeks Suklha knowledge and wisdom in one of her life, to make her plan a fruition. LBD tried to make a pact with Suklha, after flattering her with gifts and sacrifices. Unfortunately, One of the two know better than what meets the eye. Ever since then, LBD had tried to put down Suklha. In a way, to show her if she can't help her, then theres no need for a god of wisdom.

[im-a-wonderling]

Eyes, Part 5 ~ Anakin Skywalker

Summary: Knowing if she makes the wrong move, her love or her life will end catastrophically, Y/N grapples with the decision before her.

Warnings: unedited

Word count: 3.1k

Eyes masterlist

Vader’s cloak disappeared around the corner, and you sank to your knees, trying to hold the emotion in, to keep yourself from fracturing. But the harder you tried to contain it, the greater the pain grew. 

Finally, a choked sob broke through your lips, and the dam broke. 

All the heartache of the last few months came crashing down. Your whole life had been suspended since Order 66, as if you’d died with all the other Jedi. There were some days where you wondered if you should’ve, if only so that you didn’t have to live on in this way. If you’d died that day, you never would’ve learned what happened to Anakin, and you’d die believing that somehow, the two of you would be reunited. 

But this? 

This was the height of cruelty.

The tears fell like falling stars, and on them, you wished you could rewrite the past. It would have been better to have died than to live through tragedy such as this.

Vader didn’t come back.

You waited in the escape pod bay for a long time, pulling yourself together in preparation for his return. But your only company were the stormtroopers guarding the door.

Is that it then? you wondered as you finally got to your feet and traipsed back to your chambers, the stormtroopers never more than two paces away. Had Vader given up? Was he simply going to turn you over to the Emperor? 

The thought normally would’ve made you seize with fear. Instead, you sat on the bed, staring at nothing. 

If this was the end, then it was the end. What could possibly be the point in fighting it anymore? 

Hope had fluttered away with its fragile wings, probably somewhere where it could be acted upon instead of clung to like an inch of rope in a deep, dark chasm.

You had no lightsaber after Vader sliced it in two, no supplies, nothing of value. Even if you somehow managed to ditch your stormtrooper escort long enough to get to the escape pod bay, it would be naive of you to think Vader wouldn’t send ships after you, or come after you himself.

There was no way out.

In a few hours, you would die at the hands of the Emperor. Your only comfort was to know that you would be freed from this miserable existence and join with the thousands of other Jedi before you. 

The door of your chamber slid open.

You didn’t bother getting up because it wasn’t Vader. You couldn’t feel his darkness through the Force. 

“Food for the prisoner.”

You turned your head just in time to see a stormtrooper set the tray down on the nightstand by your bed.

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, your voice tired and soft. “Take it away.”

The doors shut, leaving you alone with the stormtrooper, who didn’t move. “Didn’t you hear me?” you asked crossly. “I don’t want it!”

“In twenty minutes,” the stormtrooper said quietly, “right when this ship passes Asmall, the Rebel Alliance is going to attack.”

You leapt to your feet, staring at him. 

“You’ve already found the escape pod bay. I’ll incapacitate the guards outside your door. Get yourself to the bay and off the ship, and the Rebels will take care of the rest.” He gave a quick nod before opening your door.

You almost called after him, but the sight of the two troopers outside your door made you stop. 

The door slid closed, and you sat on your bed, heart thumping and your hands shaking in response to the sudden rush of hope. Was this a trick? Or was it real? Even if it was a trick, you decided, dying while trying to get away was better than dying for the Emperor’s amusement. 

You felt the darkness a mere moment before the door slid open again. You stayed seated where you were, staring up at Vader.

Taking his time, Vader stepped into the room. 

The door remained open, allowing the two stormtroopers outside to follow him in. 

Your heart picked up. Vader always seemed to want privacy for your conversations before…so what did it mean if he no longer did now? 

“This is…your last chance.” 

The unasked question hung in the air, as if Vader already knew your answer and wanted to draw out the time before he received it. 

You eyed the stormtroopers warily. For all you knew, if you refused, they were prepared to drag you off and throw you in an actual cell again. If you said yes, did you have a better chance of still getting away whenever the Rebel Alliance started attacking the ship? If you said yes, even just as a way of stalling until you got away, would you be able to stomach it? 

Even your heart aflame with the hope of getting away, you knew your answer. “I won’t.”

Vader took a long, rattling breath. “Why not?”

“You know why.” You got to your feet and walked to the other side of the bed, putting more distance in between you and them. 

“You don’t want to take part…in any more loss of life.” Vader stepped closer. “But you were willing…to kill me…when we fought.” 

Blindsided, you took a step back. “I–”

“I felt it…you cannot deny…the darkness.”

“It’s different. The galaxy would be better off if I killed you.” 

One of the stormtroopers behind Vader shifted slightly. Vader addressed them without turning: “Stand guard over the door.”

The stormtroopers scurried away. Fear started wafting through the room as you held your breath, waiting for what Vader would do. 

Vader hit the button for the door with his fist, and it slid closed. 

He remained where he was, with his back to you. “Y/N…I…”

Silence fell, but you knew it wasn’t because he was trying to catch his breath. It was because he didn’t know what to say. You blinked, and Vader was suddenly in front of you, without so much as a whisper of his boots across the floor. Your breath caught in your chest, for you’d never seen Vader move that quickly. “If you do not…join the Empire–”

“I will be killed,” you whispered. The Force inside you pulsed in response to the fear that rushed through you. But fear had never been a stranger. “So be it.”

“Does our history…mean nothing?” Even though his voice hadn’t changed, you felt the current of desperation in the words.

“If you are not Anakin, then why should our history mean anything?” you argued. “Why should I trust you? If you’re not Anakin, why would I have any reason to join you?”

It was disturbing to know from Vader’s silence that he was struggling to compose himself yet being completely unable to see it. “Because…I love you.”

“Anakin is the only man who ever loved me, and you say he is dead.”

“Anakin died…when this body burned.”

“Oh, I think the true Anakin died long before that body burned.” Your soft words fell like bombs, and you could’ve sworn the room darkened. “It doesn’t matter if you’re him or you’re not.” You swallowed hard, trying to keep your nerve. “Anakin was a sith. Darth Vader is a sith. Nothing changes.” 

Silence fell once more. 

Vader remained still, and while the Force seemed to be swarming around him, your head was clear and your heart was resolute. 

Then his arms were moving, and you shut your eyes, convinced you were finally going to feel the famed chokehold around your neck. And in spite of yourself, you were so grateful that it would end at his hands and not the Emperor’s. 

But instead of a pressure on your throat, you felt two arms wrap around you. There was no warmth or softness to this body, and when the arms pulled you into Vader’s chest, the electronic panel there dug into your torso. You’d never been held by a droid, but you imagined this is what it would feel like. You were about to pull away from his embrace when you heard it.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

You squeezed your eyes shut, and a solitary tear fell down your cheek as you sucked in a ragged breath. You could hear Anakin’s…Vader’s heart. The heart you’d once longed for, received, and then lost. 

One of Vader’s hands came to the back of your neck, cradling you just like Anakin used to do. “Does my love…mean nothing?”

You drew away from him, not bothering to hide the tears. “Attachment isn’t love,” you said, your voice shaking. “But I guess Anakin Skywalker always struggled with that.” 

Vader cocked his head, and you braced yourself for the vehement response that he wasn’t Anakin. But when he spoke, his voice was strangely soft.

“You’ve lost everything…but your life…and you are willing…to give it away?”

“My life is not the only thing I have left,” you breathed.

You felt it then, radiating off of Vader so powerfully, it almost stripped you of semblance.

Hope.

He thought you talked of him.

Your heart screamed in agony, but you shoved it aside as you had always been taught. “I am a Jedi.” You held your head high. “And to lose that would be a fate worse than death.”

Through the Force, a surge of darkness rippled through the space between you. Vader shifted, a long distorted exhale escaping the mask. “If you don’t want…to be with me…that’s fine. Just don’t make…a rash decision.”

“It’s not rash.” You tightened your grip on the lightsaber you held behind your back, the lightsaber you’d grabbed from his belt when he hugged you. “Believe me, I’ve thought this through.”

“Why don’t you–” The ship around you shuddered slightly, and Vader twisted to look at the door.

There wouldn’t be a better moment: it was now or never. 

You almost brought out the lightsaber when the doors slid open, revealing a stormtrooper. “Sir, we’re under attack!”

Vader stormed over to the door, and the stormtrooper lowered his head. “Stay here…watch the prisoner.”

With that, Vader swept away. 

You eyed the stormtrooper. Was this the same trooper who’d delivered the message or was this a different one? If it wasn’t, was this still the best opportunity you were going to get? You had Vader’s lightsaber, but you didn’t want to raise it against any stormtroopers if you could help it. 

The stormtrooper standing guard poked their head in. “What are you–”

In a flash, the first stormtrooper knocked the butt of his blaster against his partner’s head, and his partner crumbled. “Go!” 

No sooner had he uttered the word, you burst out of the room, sprinting down the hallway for the escape pods.

A pair of patrolling stormtroopers turned as you caught up to them. Taking a leaf out of your unknown hero’s book, you brought Vader’s lightsaber down on their heads, sending them to the floor in unconscious heaps. Grabbing one of their fallen blasters, you tucked it into the waistband of your pants. 

When you caught sight of another pair headed towards you, you ducked into a closet, waited until they’d passed, and quickly continued on. 

Running towards the final corner to turn before you reached your escape, you scoffed at the engineer who’d designed this ship for designing your temporary bedroom’s proximity to the escape pod bay. Heart pounding and lungs fighting for breath, you rounded the corner, ready to run into one and get off the ship.

Except the bay wasn’t empty. 

“Where do you…think you’re going?”

Vader stood in between you and the pods. 

The ship shuddered again, and you wondered what conflict Vader was willfully missing to be here. “I’m leaving,” you said shortly, seeing no point in being subtle. Anyone with half a brain would be able to figure out what you were up to, and Vader wasn’t that dim-witted. 

“Stay.” 

You breathed against the stab of pain. 

If there was ever a moment to fight, to devote everything you had and everything you were to combat, it was now. Your life depended on it. 

You ignited his lightsaber, cringing at the red but holding tight. “No.”

Vader didn’t move at first, the red light throwing harsh shadows onto his black armor. Then, he slowly raised his hand, not outward as if to strangle you, but to brandish something. 

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“My lightsaber,” you whispered. 

The lightsaber he’d made for you what felt like ages ago, in another life. The one he’d split in half a few days ago. And the one he’d apparently fixed for you.

“Y/N…please…stay.”

You lifted your eyes to the ceiling, keeping the tears and fears at bay and clutching onto every shred of strength and self-respect you possessed. “If I have nightmares for the rest of my life, so be it.” You looked back at Vader, and a tear finally fell. “But I need to be able to live with myself when I wake.” 

The moment the final word left you, you pulled out the blaster and fired.

The harsh sound of the blast leaving the chamber barely reached your ears before Vader ignited your blue lightsaber and deflected it. 

Less than a breath and he was upon you. The red and blue light flashing through the bay with the exchanged lightning quick strikes made your eyesight a little blurry. Every clash of the lightsabers was like a slice to the heart, but your life was on the line, and you knew it. 

Vader lifted your saber above his head, and you were almost too late in lifting his to meet it. 

The two of you grappled, his might pushing against you, forcing you backwards until you hit one of the power stations. You were trapped between cold metal and Vader, moments left before you lost. 

So you did the only thing you could think of. 

You hooked your leg around his knee. 

Vader went down to the floor with a thud, and your lightsaber flew from his hand, the blue light disappearing as it deactivated. You stood above him, holding his red saber aloft as you gazed down at him. 

You could deal the fatal blow. 

You could rid the galaxy of the evil which you might’ve had a hand in creating. 

But did you have the strength to strike him down?

In your hesitation, you knew the answer to that. 

“Y/N…” Vader’s voice was pleading. Did he plead for mercy? For death? Or for you? 

Your hesitation lasted too long. Vader slowly got to his feet. You held his lightsaber out, urging him to stay back, but his helmet didn’t so much as dip to look at his own weapon pointed at his gut.  “Y/N, please.” 

Before your hesitation could cost you your life and freedom, you turned off the lightsaber and hurled it. With the power of the Force behind it, the lightsaber flew through the air like a miniature torpedo, colliding with his helmet. 

Vader stumbled, and you leapt into action before he could recover. 

Sprinting faster than you ever had in your life, you reached the pod. Heart beating wildly, you slammed your hand onto the button to close the hatch. As the doors slid closed, Vader reached out towards you. “Y/N!”

The pod ejected, and the momentum threw you to the floor.

For a moment, you just lay there, mind whirling with the events that just occurred. But then your mind caught up with the present, and you scrambled to your feet, sitting in the seat to put your hands on the controls.

-

Vader burst onto the flight deck. “The rebels.”

The general heard the unspoken question. “We’re holding them off, sir, but it would be unwise to linger without back-up.”

“We must–” Vader started to say.

“Sir!” one of the navigators called to the general. “One of our escape pods was launched!”

“Any life forms aboard?” the general asked.

“One, sir, but the authentication was hijacked!”

“The prisoner!” the general said, turning to Vader. “Sir, we’ll go after her. Dispatch the TIE–”

“No.”

The general paused, giving Vader a strange look. “Sir?”

Vader gripped Y/N’s lightsaber, the one he made for her. The one he fixed for her. The last remnant of her he possessed. “Get us to Coruscant…before the rebels…finish us off.”

“But sir–” Vader advanced on the general, who wisely backed away. “Yes, sir, of course, sir.” The general turned back to the pilot, his throat rippling as he swallowed. “Prepare for the jump to lightspeed!”

Vader left the deck. 

His body ached and burned as usual, but somehow, the pain felt new.

He found himself, standing in front of the window in the escape pod bay again. He watched the escape pod grow smaller and smaller. The ship whined, signaling the jump to lightspeed was near, but he kept his eyes fixed on the pod until the Star Destroyer lurched forward and the stars blurred.

-

There must’ve been some reason the Star Destroyer wasn’t firing at you, but you didn’t have time to wonder. You needed to put as much distance between you and the ship as possible. The sooner you reached the surface of Asmall, the more time you had to find a decent hiding spot.

You’d reached the planet’s atmosphere before you dared to look at the radar. To your astonishment, no TIE fighters pursued you. You twisted in your seat to look out the window in the back of the cramped pod. 

The Star Destroyer was gone.

Your hands shook on the controls as you swiveled back to face the planet. 

You kept glancing back, certain the Star Destroyer would come back, but it stayed gone. 

You’d lost all your supplies, including both Vader’s lightsaber and your own. All you had were the clothes on your back and the near worthless escape pod. 

And your life.

Darth Vader had killed countless people, even people on his own side. But he’d let you go, perhaps in more ways than one. Perhaps…perhaps he was still alive. Perhaps, in the heart of Vader, there still lived a remnant of Anakin Skywalker.

But even if there was, you knew that you would never see either one of them again, and the last memory you would have was of him reaching out for you.

-

And Eyes is officially complete! If you enjoyed this, check out my Obi-Wan fanfic Rescue Me.

Overall taglist:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

Eyes taglist:

@idiotreblogger @inpraizeof @katsukiswrld @queenofnigthdarkness @stxrrielle @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @lollaa-puff @xferalblog @violetstyless @polarischk @moon4moony @msrawog @ninjarose23 @mushy-mushroom04 @ordinarylokix @anakin-pilled

[wisp-of-chaos]

I am once again asking you for some blurgzlin food 😿

Blurgzlin and 🤎

or

Blurgzlin and 💙

i know there are prompts that seem to be made for them, but these two just really caught my attention. What if tipsy Blurg and soft, plush kisses? Sloppy, alcohol-induced affection. Of course, drunk Dror is another can of worms (maybe he gets aggressive? kissing to shut him up? kissing to shut Blurg blurging about his mushrooms incessantly?)

and many kisses - as a relief, maybe? "thank the gods you're okay". Na'vi AU? I have many ideas XD

OH

OR

Omeluum/Emperor and 💜

Emps says something really smart/does something impressive and Omeluum gives him a mental peck on impulse

(and also thank you a thousand times for the story you've written for me before, and for others you did, they all are wonderful and reading them makes me genuinely happy)

Went for Blurgzlin becasue I love them and can never pass up a chance to write them! <3

Dror hates it when Blurg starts – and keeps – talking about his nerdy people stuff. Hates it when Blurg uses big, complicated fancy words he doesn't know. Hates how he doesn't understand what he's talking about. Hates feeling like a damn toddler. Hates how Blurg just won't shut up.

Grumbling, he reaches for his mug and takes another swig; ears flicking and anger boiling.

Dror doesn't hate Blurg – far from it, actually. That soft, old man is the first agreeable company he met since … well, since this whole Absolute Cult mess started.

Dror flinches. The mere thought of that made his ears flatten and his eyes darken. He still couldn't believe that all of that had truly happened. That he'd been infected by squiddie brain worms and brainwashed. Made an obedient puppet; that he'd been a victim. A slave.

Dror scoffs. And all that for what? In the end, the Absolute's plan had failed. Their armies were broken and killed off; one by one like bugs. And he himself, had almost met the same fate, if not for this old fool currently chewing his ears off with yet another stream of incomprehensible words.

He growls again and takes another mouthful of ale. It's cheap and bitter but effective for driving away unwanted memories or thoughts. Leaves his tongue and throat burning and his head tingling. Makes him feel in control and invincible again.

… if only there was a way to easily Blurg and his endless rambling as well.

Dror's ears twitch and his brows furrow. Maybe he could punch him. He doubts the old man could take much – if any – violence.

The mental vision of spilling blood and the crunch of breaking bones has Dror's blood running hot and fast; and his lips curling into a smile. Yes, seeing Blurg with a bloodied, broken nose and fear in his eyes would indeed be a sight to behold, and yet …

Something within him recoils at the idea; makes his shoulders tense and and the taste in his mouth sour even more. No, for some reason he doesn't like the idea of Blurg looking at him with fear. Not really. He would much prefer if Blurg looked at him with admiration and care and- …

Dror shakes his head. Sudden and harsh, and growls.

Now where did that thought come from? Had the brain worm caused more damage than he thought? Possibly. Probably. That had to be it, there was no other explanation. And even if he would be inclined to look for one, he doubted he would be able to find it. Not with Blurg and his endless babbling making his head spin.

Gritting his teeth, Dror decides that he ought to do something about that. And soon, if he didn't want to get yet another headache. But what …

Tilting his head, he considers Blurg and his situation for a moment. But since punching him wasn't really on the table, that left him with only one other option …

Flicking his ears, Dror takes one final swig from his mug and stands. Blurg doesn't pay him any mind, but he doesn't care much. Blurg not interfering makes this easier for him anyway.

Circling around the table, he grabs for Blurg's shoulders and forcibly turns him, so that he's facing him. Sees him frown with surprise and smiles. That's a nice look too, he thinks and then leans in. Their lips meet before Blurg can so much as make a single noise of protest.

Dror hears him suck in a hissing breath; make a weird, strangled noise in his throat, but he doesn't push him off or complains. Doesn't fight back, just … lets it happen.

Dror's smile widens.

When he eventually pulls back, Blurg's face is flushed with a slight purple tint and his eyes are skittering around like scared mice. He decides that he likes this look on Blurg too and, on a sudden whim, pulls the old man in for yet another kiss.

Blurg doesn't fight this one either.

[thevikingwoman]

I heard it was post smut Thursday, well here's something that was on my mind and in my drafts for a long time.

Set at an undefined time in the Stormblood patches, Meryta swings by Onokoro again (of course)

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words : 918 | Read on Ao3

Metyta Khatin (wol) x Tansui | SB patches | smut Rating: Explicit. Sexual content, oral sex, fun times, banter, semi-public sex

Good Company

“I told you you’d be back”

Meryta laughs, joy bubbling in her belly.

“I am. What are you going to do about it?”

“Come?”

He grabs her hand, but his tone is a question, so she nods and follows him willingly.

As soon as they’re out of sight of everyone else, up the stairs and behind a building, he pushes her against the wall and kisses her soundly.

“Missed me?“ she gasps between kisses, “that much?”

“You’re the one who followed me.”

She has nothing to say to that, not when he is kissing her neck, eagerly sucking bruises into it, worrying her flesh and scales between his teeth. The skirt she’s wearing is terribly short, her top leaving her belly bare, and perhaps it was not an accident. She throws her head back when he sinks to his knees, and kisses the exposed skin there, digging his hands into her ass. She clutches his shoulders and moans, biting her lip to prevent too much noise from escaping.

They’re not really private here, not even the illusion of a closed door between them and whoever may be assigned on guard here, or wandering the stairs on their own business.

Tansui doesn’t care, bracing her against the wall, pulling one leg over his shoulder, kissing the inside of her thigh. She bucks against him when he sucks, another place she’ll surely have bruises tomorrow. He didn’t forget when she said she liked it, and he seems more than excited by it.

He kisses her again, bolts of want running through her as his hot lips meet the sensitive flesh on her thighs. She bucks her hips forward when he bites her, and sticks her hand in her mouth. She doesn’t want to be heard, and she doesn’t want him to stop.

He doesn’t, his eyes mischievous as he kisses the bruise he just made, brushing his lips against her scales, as he’s kissing the leg still on the ground.

She moans into her hand.

Tansui grins.

“Stay quiet, now.”

“I thought you had a – oh!”

With one hand, he pushes her smalls aside, and his mouth is right there, licking, sucking at her most sensitive spots. She does her best not to let out any more noises, but she knows she is unable to be completely quiet. Right now she doesn’t care if anyone hears or comes to investigate – Confederacy recruits or the Auspices or the emperor of Garlemald himself. Tansui sucks and she moans into her hand, her other falling on his head, tangling in his hair.

Tansui doesn’t let up, using one hand to keep her steady, the other tangled in her smalls. Satisfied they stay out of the way, his hand falls down where she can’t see as he lets out a low moan against her cunt. She pushes him closer, clenching around nothing, pleasure building in waves down her spine. He’s already as close as he can get, relentless in his pursuit of her pleasure, sucking, licking, beard scraping against sensitive flesh, his teeth pressing against her clit in delightful pressure.

She throws back her head and has to squeeze her eyes shut, focusing on staying upright. There’s a rustle of fabric and she realizes he’s working himself, aroused by the pleasure he brings her. It’s enough to bring her over, her climax hitting her in a furious burst. Tansui keeps going, but lets up a little, the aftershock having her tilt her hips off the wall and into him. When she looks down, he pulls back and grins up at her, dark lashes and her juices smeared across his chin.

She vaguely feels she should do something, touch him, but she’s lost in a post orgasmic haze, simply patting his hair awkwardly. Her legs wobble as she slides her left leg down from his shoulder, and he lets go of her, busy touching himself. Unable to keep herself upright, she slides all the way down to the ground, sitting against the wall. Her eyes are locked at where his hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking it fast and firm. Tansui’s eyes close and with grunt he comes, his spend hitting the dirt between them.

Tansui tucks himself away and leans forward to kiss her. Slower, but still intense, pressure and pleasure and the taste of herself on his tongue. She makes a small sound, and grabs his shoulder. She wants to hold him, or be held.

“Shhh,” he says, smirking, when they break apart. “Plenty of people about.”

“They’re you people. Your problem, right?”

He chuckles. “If you put it like that.”

“Wouldn’t mind going somewhere more private, though.”

“Oh? And here I thought you’ve gotten what you came for?”

She punches him lightly. “I came for your lovely company, of course.”

“So, this is but a bonus?”

He smirks, gesturing between them.

“A good one.”

She grins and grabs the hand he extends to her, pulling herself up and adjusting her clothes. No hope of covering the bites and bruises he left, and she doesn't care. Especially when his eyes rake over them, a new stab of want already simmering. 

“I can offer you company and a trip if you want. I’m set to go to Sakazuki today.”

“I’ll love to.”

hey will have time, later. She does want his company, simple time with him settles her in a way she cannot explain. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. Tansui looks away, and then crushes his arms around her.