#berserk fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gutsheapofrawiron · 8 months

Text

[GRIFFGUTS FANFIC] Only When The Crow Cried Did I See Why: Chapter 4

Kasian, you are a victim of circumstance. Life has never held you right.

Summary:

a lotta plot starts happening from this chapter on Griffith and Guts homosexually groom horses together and Mangled!Griffith is dropped back into the physical plane, leaving the torture labyrinth behind him indefinitely

Read on AO3 or continue reading below

Guts seemed to have a mutual understanding with the horse, of sorts. Griffith observed their interactions with poorly concealed fascination in between brush strokes over his own steed’s flanks.

“She really likes you, huh,” he noted as Inge gently nosed her rider before leaning against his back as Guts brushed her neck, glossy with a healthy coat. Guts looked up, a somewhat distant look in his eyes as he glanced at him.

“What?” he asked, and Griffith realised he hadn’t specified, confusing the man’s absent mind.

“Inge,” he said, nodding to the lady with soulful brown eyes, who was drooling a little in relaxation.

“Oh,” Guts looked over his shoulder to where her head was. A fond smile grew on his face, and Griffith wished he wasn’t facing his back at this moment, missing out on the complete view. An indignant whinny from his other side made him realise he stilled in his own grooming duties.

“Sigilina doesn’t like slackers,” Guts said, grinning.

“Oh, Sigi, please forgive me, won’t you?” Griffith pleaded in a rounded voice, stroking her nose through the worst of her incredulous huffs. The chuckling coming from his right would have properly ticked him off if it wasn’t Guts who was having fun at his expense. Guts was an exception, unsurprisingly.

Sigilina was satisfied after a while, no longer feeling double-crossed, and he moved on to untangling and braiding her mane.

“We’ll be proceeding with the siege as it is planned in a month,” Griffith said, looking at Guts’ back. “Will they be ready?”

Guts tilted his head in thought. “If we keep up the tempo of today’s training, yes.”

“They seemed miserable, though. You’ll be hated,” Griffith remarked, allowing the amusement to shine through his words. Guts let out a single, sharp laugh. “They’ll be more miserable if they’re dead. ‘Sides, I don’t give a shit about what they think of me, they’ll need all the training they can get if they want to get out with all their limbs.”

Griffith smiled. “That bad?”

Guts turned his head and looked at him with unflinching eye contact, something so rare Griffith froze in place like prey. “I would have beat their arses so bad as a brat they could’ve heard them yell in pain all the way over in the Kushan Empire,” he said in a low but even voice.

Griffith held his gaze for an indeterminable amount of time, or rather, an age, or more likely not even half a minute, before casting his gaze back over to Sigilina’s hair in his hands, letting out a strangled, mildly hysterical laugh.

“Yes, well, you were a violent kid. That’s no news,” he replied, his smile now tight on his face, like an ill-fitting porcelain mask.

“Like you’re any better. Fancy words don’t hide the fact that you’re a prick, Griff’,” Guts scoffed as he bent down to scrape the muck out of Inge’s hooves. Griffith suddenly felt his interest in Sigilina’s mane wane aggressively, his eyes locked on something more sodomitical.

“Hell, you were probably even worse as a child,” Guts continued, holding Inge’s hoof. Griffith was absently braiding the last hairs of the mane. Guts took the silence as affirmation and looked up.

“No way. Really?” he laughed, Griffith just about quick enough in redirecting his gaze from stern to bow for it to be passably innocuous.

“Your ma and pa must’ve had a hell of a time raisin’ you, huh?” Guts asked, moving to the other side of Inge, out of view. Griffith tried to not feel defeated as he went on to braid Sigilina’s tail.

“My mother loved me just fine,” Griffith retorted, pulling a bitter face. A distant part of his brain noted that Guts was clearly feeling comfortable with talking to him again. Sure enough, it seemed the apology of the previous night did the trick.

“Your mum,” Guts spoke after a moment. Griffith mentally prepared for a meaningful question regarding his family situation. “She hot?”

Griffith paused in the middle of an intricate five-strand braid. “What?”

Guts appeared from behind Inge, apparently done with cleaning out her hooves. “Was she a looker?” he asked, eyebrow quirked. Griffith wondered if he’d drank. He continued braiding after a deep sigh. “What does that matter? She’s dead now, so you can’t pull anything, anyway,” he replied.

“Now, look here,” Guts began, tone heavy. “I wasn’t talking about that. Just wondering where you got your genes from, that’s all.”

Griffith suddenly regretted not looking at Guts as he said this, and he felt his face flush to the rhythm of receding footsteps as Guts moved to the other side of the ‘stable’ to put his tools away.

Griffith touched his cheek with the back of his hand before tying off the neatly braided tail, letting it fall to its original position before masking his embarrassment with a cough.

“I…look like my mother, yes. I never knew my father, though, but there’s no shred of doubt my mother birthed me.”

That sounded stupid. Griffith wondered how there could be any confusion as to whose cunt one crawled out of, and hoped desperately Guts wouldn’t pick up on the idiocy of his statement.

Guts made a noise of comprehension. They were standing next to each other now, admiring their work on the ladies in front of them.

“What about you?” Griffith asked after a quiet moment. Guts glanced at him before looking away, jaw stiffening.

“No idea,” Guts said, going silent. Sigilina once again required Griffith’s attention and pushed her nose into his hands while Inge, on the other hand, started pawing the ground in unease, ears and eyes moving anxiously as she observed Guts. Griffith caressed Sigilina’s forehead as he looked at Inge, deciding to not push the matter. He gave Sigilina one last pat before putting his own brushes away too, having already cleaned out her hooves earlier.

He was about to leave the stables to brief Casca about the discussed plans for the siege when Guts spoke.

“I dream of my father.”

Griffith halted. From the corner of his eye he saw Guts clench his fists, knuckles white in their held tension.

“When,” he started, swallowing. “When I hit you, last night. I was dreaming of him, too.”

Griffith relaxed now that he knew what the other meant, turning back to face him as he took slow, measured steps in his direction, leaving a metre between them. “Well,” Guts let out a sharp huff, grimacing. “I say ‘father’, but all that bastard did was pick me up from the mud and shove a sword into my hands as soon as I could wipe my own shit.”

Griffith wanted to reach out and touch him, his hand, his arm, his shoulder, perhaps, anything, to keep him tethered, but cowardice triumphed, and he kept his hands to himself.

“Hm,” he thought about the newly-acquired information. It made a whole lot of sense. “So he’s the reason you’re a mercenary?” he asked, more to keep Guts going with confiding in him than to get an actual answer. Guts nodded.

“He, uh,” Guts glanced up at Griffith before moving to Inge, taking her head in his hands and stroking her, supposedly to calm her as much as giving himself something to do. “He didn’t like me. Said I was the reason she died, or something.”

“‘She’?” Griffith studied his face as he went back to Sigilina to ensure she felt included, and to get a better vantage point in terms of view.

“A woman named Shisu,” Guts replied, his voice a hint broken, though an untrained ear would not be able to catch it. “I asked around, y’know. They said she was the one who took me in, but then the Plague got her.”

He paused, breathing deep. Griffith averted his eyes.

“If that’s what killed her, you’re not the one at fault, Guts.”

Guts shook his head. His breath was wobbly.

“I don’t even remember her face,” Guts looked up, meeting Griffith’s eyes at last. He couldn’t stop the air from getting caught in his throat as he realised Guts’ eyes were wet.

“Griffith, I don’t even know her face,” he said, and it came out a plea. Something possessive curled in Griffith’s gut at the display of grief, and he left his duty of petting Sigilina in favour of finally, finally, touching Guts.

Something to be said about seeing a big guy cry, he thought as he took the other’s hand in his own, using his other to rub his back in comforting shapes. His mind leaped in joy at this incredible opportunity, but he pushed it down to focus on the matter at hand: Guts crying his eyes out over his dead adoptive(?) mother. Inge was determined to do her part, nosing Guts by way of petting him back, while Sigilina only huffed as she took in the sight with green eyes. Guts was a silent sobber, Griffith noted, as the man cried into his shoulder. Griffith’s hair would be ruined after this, yet he surprised himself with how little he cared. “It’s alright, it’s okay,” he hushed. It was a quick spell, broken by the sound of a group of band members laughing and chatting as they approached the stables, and Griffith felt Guts stiffen. He grudgingly let go, straightening his hair out and fixing both their clothes. Guts wiped his face, and Griffith supposed the blooming redness was more because of embarrassment rather than anything else.

Ill at ease, they waited until the voices passed, the sounds melting away and leaving them an awkward silence.

“S’rry,” Guts sniffed, looking longingly towards the exit. Griffith smiled thinly. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “It must’ve been hard.”

Guts nodded once, jerkily, his gaze searching for something to lock onto with the nervosity of an anxious dog.

“Still, doesn’t mean I can just go an’ whine about it.” to you, though the last part remained unspoken.

“Of course you can,” Griffith disagreed. “I said you belong to me, didn’t I? That includes your feelings, your dreams, and your past, as well,” he said simply.

Guts’ mouth pulled taut at one side in what looked suspiciously like a grimace. “You…,” he started, but seemed unable to figure out what he wanted to say, falling silent again as he frowned.

“Yes?” Griffith asked, watching his hands clench and unclench, and the swell of his chest expand and contract.

“...No, never mind,” Guts gave up, physically shaking his head, turning away as he moved towards the exit. “You should probably go and inform Casca about the schedule. I’ll check our weapon supplies, see if it’ll get us through the mission alive,” he said, waving away the last remnants of their previous conversation topic as he left the stables. Griffith thought that to be the end of it, but as Guts was already one step outside he paused, glancing back.

“Thanks, again,” he said with a laugh-like huff.

Then he was gone, not sparing Griffith the time to respond.

Sigilina snorted, and Griffith remembered to close his mouth as he felt how hot it had suddenly become inside the stables, now that he was the only human present. The horses looked at him in silent accusation, and he knew he’d overstayed his welcome, leaving the stables and his blissful experiences of just moments ago behind him in favour of his remaining duties of the day.

•

When he opened his eyes, it felt dreadfully similar to before, his body still very much mortal and mangled. The tip-off that he was no longer in the dragon's damp cave came in the form of brutally bright light assaulting his eyes as soon as he awoke, and the crisp air of healthy nature streaming into his lungs. The immediate flow of quality oxygen overwhelmed, and he gasped as he grovelled on the ground, grasping at soft, dewy grass as he did so. It took about twenty or so breaths before Griffith felt he had reconnected to his body a decent amount. He turned his head, neck feeling jointed like a doll's, and took in the surroundings. Had he not once gained immortality and carved a place for himself in the astral plane as a god-like figure, he would not have considered it possible, but the place was positively ephemeral, glowing in its natural wealth. Curling trees, silver-barked, scattered over hills of fresh green grass, seemed to observe him with invisible faces, just like the countless creatures he took gradual note of, one by one, in the thicket and behind the trunks. Centaurs and fairies, Griffith named every kind he saw in his mind, trying to gather his wits. Some kind of nymphs, and spellbound birds?

He stood up, limb by limb, like a rose unfurling its petals, and felt the open space free him from his mind for a happy moment, closing his eyes as his chest expanded with a fill of good air.

"Ah!"

The tranquillity of the moment was broken. A boy stood a stone's throw away from him with legs in frog-stance, sticks and leaves sticking out of his hair and his face set into an impressive mix of incredulity, awe, and surprise as he pointed an accusing finger at Griffith. "You!"

Griffith turned the rest of his body towards him. The boy's gaze flicked hysterically up and down his body, and he was physically shaking with some repressed emotion Griffith could not quite identify. "You're naked!"

The sounds of leaves rustling as they were hastily pushed aside and juvenile voices coming closer made both of them divert their attention to the bushes behind the child. Out came stumbling and tripping a handful of young girls, dressed uniformly in dark robes and hats that were holding onto their heads for dear life, barely surviving the battle through the twigs and shrubbery.

"Isidro! Why did you-"

One of the girls tried to launch into a lecturing of the boy, but stopped when her eyes followed the direction of the boy's arm. The other girls got up from the ground, equally dishevelled and covered in leaves, before matching the first girl’s expression, mouths agape.

"He's human and he's naked!" the boy, Isidro, exclaimed as he pointed at Griffith again, looking indignantly at the girls.

Ah. Indignance. That was it.

Satisfied he found the answer, Griffith relaxed his shoulders, not considering these children to be even a little bit of a threat, before recognising the shape of the girls’ hats and realising they were all carrying ornately carved and decorated sticks, in layman’s terms also known as wands. If he were in a less sorry state he would probably never admit to himself that this was the moment he started searching for an emergency exit, his eyes desperately scanning the surroundings, ignoring the fact that most of the girls were bright red and covering their eyes. Most.

"Invader!" one of the –red-cheeked but slightly less embarrassed– girls yelled out, pointing defensively at him with her wand and taking on a fighting stance. "Huh?!" Isidro exclaimed, looking between her and Griffith. The other girls followed her example and also readied their wands for battle.

"Wait, guys! He's clearly injured!" a girl with a slightly differently coloured uniform said in alarm.

"Like that matters, Schierke,” another rolled her eyes.

"Hey! She's got a point, y'know? I mean, just look at him," came from a little-voiced elf flitting around the concerned girl's head as she threw her petite arm in his direction for emphasis. Griffith saw a perfect way out in between two trees, a narrow pig trail, relatively bush-free. He looked at the swarm of witches to see if they noticed.

"I am looking," Isidro replied sorrowfully. "That's the problem."

"I bet he got injured when he was busy invading our island," yet another witch commented, earning various noises of agreement from the others. Griffith shuffled carefully towards his intended exit as the girls were too busy arguing amongst each other.

“Idiots! He’s escaping!” one of them shouted, and Griffith immediately sped up his hobbling run to freedom. The sound of multiple pairs of feet thumping behind him as they quickly got closer did wonders in unnerving him, and he knew his attempt to flee was a fool’s errand.

Suddenly he was grabbed by the waist and caught in the wind as he was hoisted several metres up in the air at once, distance between him and the children quickly increasing.

"Sheesh!" a female voice came from above him. "You sure managed to rile them up, buddy," she said, and Griffith turned his head as much as possible, ignoring his protesting neck muscles to look up at the dark-haired woman who grinned down at him. "I doubt this is gonna do your wounds any good, but hold on tight, 'kay? We'll be down again in no time," she assured him, turning her attention back to her broom-flying. Because they were, in fact, on a broom, Griffith realised hazily. He didn’t know why she’d told him to ‘hold on tight’ though, as there was nowhere for him to grasp onto. All his limbs were merely hanging quite uselessly in the open air, the only safeguard preventing him from dropping to his rather gnarly demise being the witch’s arm. He felt the familiar fatigue take hold of him again and decided not to worry about it, instead opting to take in the view. The trees seemed to stretch on forever underneath them, the crowns all sorts of shades of colours, some feasible and some less so. On the further side of the island he could make out the shy silhouettes of sharp-fingered mountains, reminding him rather rudely of his hiking trip with the black-haired child not very long ago, and he averted his eyes, attention being drawn by the lively blue of the sea, sunlight skipping on the wave crests. Even from this height he was able to discern the half-human figures jumping and playing in the waters surrounding the island.

“So, what brings you here, if I may ask?” the woman enquired, though Griffith suspected the polite speech probably did not come naturally to her, her tone only millimetres away from mocking. He noticed she still seemed completely fine with lifting a grown man (albeit a starving one) for a prolonged period of time, and he wondered whether witch education included strength training. As they flew over the forest, he saw a behemoth of a cherry tree poke out like a giant amongst men in the middle of the woods, and realised the witch was heading straight into its direction.

“Are you doin’ some sightseeing? ‘Cause we’re not exactly a tourist hotspot, but I guess I can see the appeal.”

She continued, “I mean, I’d give a rib or two to get out of here, but I suppose outsiders think all of this is super impressive, or whatever.”

Griffith was unsure whether she expected him to reply, and he did not dare risk puking his vocal cords up if he tried in his current state, so he just listened. While they got closer to the pink blossoms he saw glimpses of buildings peek out from under the dense foliage. The witch had slowed down significantly. Griffith suspected she was stalling.

“...I’m,” he rasped, his throat throwing a hissy fit. She glanced at him, surprised. “I’m not invading,” he managed, hoping she wouldn’t throw him to the lions, both literally and/or figuratively. The witch burst out in sharp but hearty laughter after a beat of silence.

“Oh, rest assured, I did not think you were, pretty boy. You look like you got mauled by an entire battalion, and we don’t have any of that here,” she laughed, and Griffith couldn’t stop the involuntary jerk of his body as he nervously looked at the ground. If she noticed, she did not show it, her breath evening out as she recovered from the mirth.

“Those brats are just a little jumpy since there’re actually some other guests from outside here right now,” she explained. “I tried killing them, but there was this one ridiculously strong fella among them who absolutely decimated my perfect little wicker guy with a single slash,” she mourned, pouting wistfully as she stared in the direction of the sea. Griffith stiffened at the mention of a stupidly overpowered man cutting down a witch’s work in one fell swoop. She definitely noticed this time, turning her attention back to him.

“Ah, I should probably set you down now, huh. You really need to get fixed up,” she slipped under the cherry blossom’s crown, the village hiding underneath revealing itself to Griffith like a timid lover at night. “You look like extravagantly fragrant shit,” she said, wrinkling her nose, adding, “No offence.”

Griffith let out a wheezing noise in reply. “None taken.”

She was a lot gentler in the landing than in the take-off (abduction), floating down to the ground gradually, holding Griffith so that he’d land feet-first. Either the child witches had warned every single inhabitant of Witchtopia and their mums, or the odd duo was just really noticeable, because a mainly pointy-hatted crowd approached as they descended, eyes locked onto him and the witch.

“Molda!” one of the elder witches yelled, and the witch dropped Griffith for the last half a metre of the way down, leaving him staggering on his decently emaciated legs, but quickly steadying him by his shoulders.

“Well,” she pursed her lips, squinting at the witches that were now running towards them. “You’re on your own for this last part, buckaroo,” she let go of him before slapping his back in greeting, making him stumble forward with the impact. “I gotta skedaddle,” she said, and with that she sped off, back into the wide sky. Griffith watched her leave before turning back to the crowd, and it just so had to happen that, like the centripetal force between the earth and the sun’s core, his eyes were immediately locked on those of a man in the back of the herd, face frighteningly familiar.

Delayed vertigo hit Griffith like a speeding stallion, and he felt his legs give up trying to achieve the impossible as he collapsed in on himself, right as the witches reached him, their concerned shouts blurring together with his dancing vision into one nauseating sludge.

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

#berserk #griffguts #berserk fanfiction #guts/griffith #cross posted from ao3 #GHORI Original #Only When The Crow Cried #scheduled

3 notes · View notes

frenskcup · 8 months

Text

guts x gn!reader

Warnings: oral sex mentions, suggestive content (Minors DNI) Reader is fem leaning (takes shirt off for tighter top and can be "eaten out")

Summary: Modern!AU oneshot based around reikuto's sfw Guts hcs.

AN: i miss the gym so i wanted to write about Guts going to the gym w his s/o

The gym was always a place for Guts to relax, as odd as that sounds. But for a man like Guts, one could believe that. Going through the motions of warming up his body and the familiarity of the burn of lactic acid was an addiction of sorts. His demeanor in the gym was that of bang out the sets and leave, not allowing himself to chat with any of the gym goers. The volume that he lifted did leave him with moments of just sitting and catching his breath, yet his aura about him and his R.B.F made him seem like he couldn’t be bothered for even a spot for the most experienced of lifters.

You can imagine the look of confusion on the regulars’ faces when they see him walk in with a significantly smaller person, dressed in a large shirt with yoga shorts and Converse. You can’t help but feel eyes on you when you go to warm up with Guts in an empty corner. While you do your dynamic stretches with him, you get your gym playlist ready for the session - a mix of metal and early 2000s sounding club bangers, something for Guts and yourself. You knew he didn’t mind your music taste even with how he reacted to you skipping his late 90s numetal for a song about grinding and back-alley sex. You knew he especially didn’t mind when you would do a little dance to accompany it.

You took a last sip of your preworkout and got your earbuds out for you and Guts. Placing an earbud into his large hand as he got out of a lunge, you put yours in your ear and start the playlist. The start of Rihanna’s S&M makes you roll your head to the beat as you and Guts walk to the empty squat rack.

Both of you put a few more plates on each side of the bar after your set, alternating from your working weight to his, which was a significant amount more than yours. As Guts unracks the weight, you watch him squat and nod your head to the music. Your work schedule doesn’t allow for you to go to the gym with your boyfriend very often, so you take any time you find to do so. There’s nothing you enjoy more than seeing your mountain of a man sweat while lifting heavy items and setting them back down. You enjoy working out, too, but the views you get when Guts is with you make it all the more enjoyable.

He reracks with a grunt and undoes the collar to take plates off for your next set, and you copy. You continue this for a few more sets between you two, and you bask in the confusion you see on onlookers faces every time you reset. Like, yeah, that’s your man. Yeah, he’s strong and powerful. Those thighs and triceps aren’t for looks only.

The next few exercises have you looking for your water bottle. Leg day with Guts is torture, but you indulge in public masochism every once in a while. Your toes tap to the heavy sound of SOAD as you drink your precious water, and as Guts approaches you, you lift the bottle to him to offer a sip. He takes it from you with a nod and a thanks. Smiling, you take off your shirt to reveal your tight underlayer because of the lack of ventilation from the shirt. You stuff the shirt in your bag and take back the bottle to also place in the bag. You giggle at a thought that comes into your mind.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, already knowing you’re going to tell him the silliest shit imaginable like you always do.

“Ew, you just drank after me,” you sneer, not meaning it at all. “You just, like, kissed me technically. Gross.”

“I ate you out this morning,” he informs you, unphased and face stoic. “Grow up.”

“Shut up, asshole! We’re in public.” You push his arm hard, but even that’s not enough to make him budge.

“I’ll say worse if you keep stalling abs.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re lucky you’re so hot,” you say while poking him. He lets a small smile show.

The two of you work on core, all the while Doja Cat sings about getting naked. You mouth the words as you do hanging leg lifts. Guts keeps going when your grip fails and you have to jump down. The burn in your hamstrings and abs feels nice but awful at the same time. You’re getting bored of waiting and start to mess with him to get him to quit sooner.

“I know you’re tired. C’mon, your core couldn’t be more engaged right now. You two are practically taking a honeymoon. Ooh, I see your hand slipping there. You gotta listen to your body, babe. It’s telling you to stop.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What? I’m doing nothing. Literally. I’m bored.”

He ignores you and keeps at his set, determined to finish all the reps left. As you wait more, an idea pops into your head.

“Hey, babe,” you coo. “If you quit now, I’ll have enough time to make those shumai you like.”

You can see the gears in his head turning before his hands let go and he’s grabbing your hand to pull you to the corner you started at. You laugh and allow him to guide you, just like his stomach guided him to stretch. He seems to rush through the movements, not stretching as deeply as you know he can. Just to be a pain, you complain that Guts isn’t being truthful to the workout, rushing and sabotaging your gains. The next time you see his face is after returning from your downward dog - he has your bag over his shoulder and the next thing you know, he’s got you over his other shoulder. It’s humiliating to be seen like this, but you know you asked for it.

“I’d complain more about this being humiliating, but the view of your ass is too good to complain,” you tell him, smacking one of his cheeks to emphasize how much you like his ass.

#reader insert #gender neutral reader #not sfw #berserk fanfiction #guts berserk x reader

3 notes · View notes

jean0farc · 6 months

Text

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌. — !# :

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Dark fantasy, yandere, smut.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Griffith X You (fem! reader)

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: You and Griffith were the best of friends since childhood trying to get by in the kingdom of Midland. After a lack of communication for years due to a fight that cost you two your friendship, you and Griffith are invited to the same ball, where you two lock eyes together. Such a scenario is harmless, right? What could possibly go wrong?

𝖈𝖜: dubcon, mild sexual tension, implied stalking.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: I must admit this was rushed. However, I have no regrets writing this.

“Griffith…. I can’t do this. I can’t afford our friendship to transcend into something more. My parents don’t approve of our…relationship. It’s best if we just stop meeting each other, okay?”

Chandeliers filled the ceiling of the ballroom, illuminating bright enough to light up the whole venue. The windows were decorated with crimson red curtains and white roses, giving off that elegant feel one could ever ask for when stepping into the palace. The doors were made of gold, stainless steel, and intricate patterns that boasted the wealth Midland’s kingdom had over the nations.

This feeling was a dream come true, you thought, as you danced with your partner of the night. You weren’t beyond friends, but it was nice having someone to tag along when dancing to the rhythm of classical music that echoed through the halls.

You were beautifully adorned with a gown as black as ebony and a flower crown that gave emphasis to your crowning glory. There is indeed beauty in the smallest of things the moment you step foot into the ball, giving you a glimpse of what it feels to be in possession of the luxury you usually never had. Is this what it was like being a part of the elite and the royal family in Midland? Perhaps.

You swore to yourself that there was nothing that could get in the way of your amazing time at the ball. You had a handsome partner to dance with, appetizing food and drink you could turn to in moments of hunger and thirst, and your friends to accompany you as the time passed. Your parents trusted your friends enough to protect and be by your side in case things don’t turn out rough ….so far as to let you be invited with your friends to sleep at the guest rooms of the palace.

You were a close friend of Princess Charlotte, which granted you some privilege at least. She handed out invitations to you and your friends to join the feast as it was her birthday being the main focus of the celebration. But what bothered you is her friendship with someone you refused to speak of—a man with long, wavy, and flowing white hair and a pair of icy blue eyes. A man whose dream was to build his own kingdom and have people work for his rule. A man who once claimed you as someone he wanted to keep for as long as time stretches itself into the void. A man who was once your childhood friend, but was somehow separated from you because of your family disapproving of the relationship.

It didn’t take even a second. The moment you looked back, he was amongst the crowd, right behind you and your partner. Seeing him dancing with another woman felt almost strange to you, as he wasn’t one to mingle with other girls other than just you. Anyhow, you chose to move on. Your parents always had a disdain for him, claiming he was a dangerous, selfish young man who took pleasure in taking lives within the battlefield. They say it wasn’t a very smart decision to be friends with him, and the fact that he confessed his feelings for you enraged your family even further.

You dared not revisit the past, better yet, you’d rather not reminisce about your friendship with him. He was not good for you, end of story.

“Griffith, I’ve had it. Let’s just stop meeting here, okay? Our relationship serves ZERO benefits and I just can’t stand the sight of you anymore!”

“Then we’ll fix things one by one. What is it about me that you so despise, hm?”

“The bloodshed, the destruction, the violence you constantly put yourself in! Why would I, a diplomatic person advocating for peace within Midland, care enough to associate myself with a monster who takes innocent lives like you!”

“You know that I take lives for the money. It is a part of what I wanted, dear. A dream the both of us can indulge in, if you so desire. I cannot abandon my dream. I will never betray it. Causing bloodshed isn’t just a hobby, it’s a part of my DREAM. And I shall NOT abandon it over your will.”

“Griffith…..I-”

“I told you this a long time ago but you recall that I said it once, and I would say it over and over again. You belong to me. Not even your family would break the bond we two once shared, and not even their disapproval of our relationship would stop the lengths I’d go just to have you in my grasp.”

Those were the last words that came into mind the moment your eyes darted to the man you so despised. He had a charming exterior, yes, but his ambitions were something you didn’t want yourself to be associated with. After cutting ties with him for good, you saw him once again in this ball. What a shame. You tried keeping your eyes off him by looking away, but things were too late as his stare met yours. Griffith, the man himself, knew not to abandon his partner, but this time he felt the urge to do so.

He always recognized you, from your well-donned makeup to your stunning black gown and flower crown.

Griffith was left with no doubt that he was looking at his one and only childhood friend who abandoned him. His gaze wasn’t that of an innocent look, his icy blue eyes staring at you in anger from head to toe. His eyes undressed and penetrated into your very being, it almost gave you goosebumps. Your eyes darted elsewhere as you looked back at your partner.

“Is there something wrong?” your partner asked.

“No, nothing of the sort.” you responded. “It’s just that….I feel as though I am being watched.”

“That’s definitely not right, do you want to leave the ballroom this early? I’ll inform the guards of your willful departure.”

“No, no…I-I can handle it.” you stuttered. “Just leave me be. I won’t let someone ruin my stay at this wondrous celebration.”

“Hey there!” Princess Charlotte greeted you from afar. “Are you enjoying the ball so far?”

“Ah! Yes, yes I am. However….”

“Oh, what seems to be the matter? You can tell me anything that bothers you!”

“I feel as if someone is watching me….” you said, your voice slightly shaky. “It must be him….”

“You mean…Griffith?” Princess Charlotte asked. “I don’t know much about you two, but I do hear he’s up to something…..”

“What is that ‘something’ you speak of, Princess?” you asked.

“He’s up to sleeping with someone for the night. Who knows who it is, he’s always….sleeping around, that is…” Princess Charlotte laughed. “Are you alright?”

“Well, for some weird reason, I’m not surprised. Griffith has never been the type to stick around with one anyway. He’s better off without me.” you scoffed.

“Awwww….[Name], don’t say that! I’m sure this ball would pave an opportunity for you two to reconcile! And, you know….have the two of you become friends again!” Princess Charlotte replied. “So cheer up! Come on now, would you like a drink?”

“Sure!” you agreed.

After a few drinks, you were dazed and confused with what surrounded you in the ballroom. Your partner and friends were half drunk, and you couldn’t deny how you felt tipsy after seven shots of sweet champagne.

“[Name]!! Are you alright?” Princess Charlotte asked, concerningly.

“I’m alright, Princess. Thank you for asking. I…just had…a few drinks, perhaps…? Can I….go to my bedroom now, please?” you stammered, slightly dizzy and lightheaded from the alcohol you consumed for the night.

“Oh, sure thing! Guards! Kindly escort my dear friend to the guest rooms, please!” Princess Charlotte called out.

Princess Charlotte hosting a sleepover for some guests was something you didn’t expect off your bucket list. When you were invited to her birthday celebration, you were more than excited to spend the night with your friends and the Princess….what you did NOT expect was Griffith being invited as well.

You were escorted to the top floor of the palace. All walls in each guest room were soundproof to avoid unwanted noises from interrupting other guests who were fast asleep. You, on the other hand, had to leave the party early due to your slight drunkenness. While carrying you to bed, your belongings were also brought back to the room beside the bedpost. The guards left you on your own, leaving the door slightly open in case you needed assistance from the servants of the palace.

Hours passed, and you fell fast asleep after feeling quite tipsy at Princess Charlotte’s ballroom party. Things weren’t occurring out of the ordinary, up until the door creaked open. Things weren’t right. Someone entered the room.

You were startled by the door opening, only for it to be closed once again, the lock of the door being heard aloud. It was quite pitch black in the night, the only source of light being the lightning that struck every once in a while. You had no clue of who entered the room, but you were suddenly filled with fear once you came back to your senses. The intrusion was unexpected, and you made a guess on who entered your room in such an ungodly hour. You were right.

It was Griffith.

You were intimidated by the silhouette that appeared before you, but that didn’t give you a reason to cower in fear. In fact, this gave you an opportunity to call for the guards despite being slightly drunk.

“Are you not going to play dumb with me this time, [Name]?” he asked, his anger being quite apparent with his words.

You saw this coming. You recognized that voice—it was that of a commander’s, like he’s always been. Chills ran down through your spine, not because you were afraid of him, but because you were frightened of what was about to happen next.

You felt a sense of urgency it almost hurts to not speak up.

“Griffith? What do you think you’re doing here?! Get out before I call the guards!”

“Do you really want to leave our relationship this badly? Hm?” Griffith asked. “Here I am, asking for one chance to fix the scars of our past, and after all we’ve been through, this is how you repay me?”

“Our relationship was never beyond friendship, Griffith. If you think I’d come back to you for the sake of partaking in your sick, twisted idea of a dream…you are gravely mistaken.”

“You aren’t useful to me just for the sake of my dream. I want you, [Name]. I’ve been watching you all along since we parted ways right in that village. And this time is where I arrive to claim what’s rightfully mine.” Griffith announced, taking five steps closer to your bed as you stared at the door planning your escape route. In an attempt to put both hands on your shoulders, you pushed him away.

“I was never yours.” you replied, bravely. “I wasn’t yours and I’ll never be yours. Please cut me some slack and leave at once, or I’ll have to call the guards on you.”

“The walls are soundproof and the doors are locked. Looks like there’s no room left for you to hide, hm? Just surrender your freedom to me. By surrendering to me, you’ll find peace once we establish our own kingdom.”

“Ever since you found the Band of The Hawk, I’ve already been looking for ways to avoid your company. You just aren’t the one for me, Griffith. I’m better off not knowing you’d engage in such savage battles, having people die and kick the bucket for the sake of achieving your dream.”

“If I can’t have your freedom, then I have no other choice but to force it away from you. I want you in my arms. And I will do anything to make you a part of my dream.”

“No.” you stood up for yourself.

“Are you resisting me….this badly, [Name]?” Griffith asked, ready to pounce onto you. “No. You’re not resisting. You’re not leaving. I won’t allow it.”

“I AM leaving.” In an attempt to stand up and reach for the door outside the guest room, Griffith grabbed you by the wrist with a push strong enough to knock you out towards the queen-sized bed. While you ended up sitting, he took a huge step forward, leaning lower to match your eye level, and forcefully stripped you off by unraveling the straps of your sleeveless black gown. Before you could even utter a word and speak, he pressed his lips right onto yours.

You tried your very best not to kiss him back and show an ounce of enthusiasm in your actions. While his tongue explored you with utmost fervor, you tried to protest with your arms pushing him away and your feet kicking off every obstacle past you. Griffith’s touch, however, was far stronger than you could ever imagine. Your eyes were wide open in shock, trying to escape with all your might though you were already covered in his scent.

Since it was your first kiss, you made an attempt to kiss back in a disorderly fashion so as to piss Griffith off and let him walk away due to your inexperience. But this didn’t stop him. He kissed you in the most aggressive, yet practiced manner imaginable, so far as to render your tongue numb and submissive to his motions. His heavy breathing and humming didn’t help alleviate the situation you both were in either, and you refused to admit that your own childhood friend turned you on.

Griffith wasn’t being gentle around this time, you thought—he had to be straightforward with his motives when dealing with a fragile little thing like you.

You waited like hell for this moment to stop. When Griffith pulled away, you panted hard and set your eyes upon the door.

“Good…..still not taken. Your body is truly miraculous not to feel the touch of another man worthy of your gaze.” Griffith hummed in satisfaction. Forcing your chin to look up at him, he murmured. “Look at me.”

You made a slight effort to look into those eyes you once despised. Griffith’s stare pierced into your very being, you felt as if you were being undressed straight from the way he eyed you from head to toe.

“You will remember this moment from the time we part ways. I want you to dream of this.”

While you were sitting back, Griffith stood upright, taking off his top garment by garment. You thought to yourself that this was your chance—you stood up to walk briskly, only to be found out and pushed back to the bed once again.

“If you think you can escape just because I had other matters to attend to, you are gravely mistaken.” Griffith said.

“What….do you mean by that?” you asked.

“You should be grateful a friend has been willing to give you the attention you so desire. Had I not known you for years, you would have fallen into the arms of the wrong man.”

“Pffft. Talk about being a control freak.” you scoffed. “Let me go.”

“I don’t crave control. I just know what I want.” Griffith replied, undoing his pants to reveal his half-erect member before you.

“Now, suck.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play innocent with me now, dear.”

Griffith grabbed a fistful of your hair without warning, urging you to wrap your mouth around his cock much to your surprise and unwillingness.

“You must comply unless you want to be tossed around to the peasants of the land. Do this. Do this for my dream.”

“Mmmmhhh! Mmmmhhhh!!!”

Rendered unable to speak, your head was forced to bob up and down Griffith’s length as he moaned in satisfaction to your compliance. You tried to retreat, but his grip just strengthened itself as he forced himself down your throat. You tried your best not to let out a sputtering gag, his thrusts growing more animalistic as he was nearing his release.

You groaned in dissatisfaction as Griffith face-fucked you into oblivion while standing up, his frame bare and naked while you were halfway stripped off your gown. If it were not for the darkness that engulfed the palace’s rooms, you would have mistaken the scene to be that of a brothel’s interior.

Without Griffith’s assistance, you wouldn’t know what to do considering this was your first time pleasuring a man. He continued forcefully pushing your head inward and outward his cock with his powerful hand, so as to set the pace he wanted. He grunted as you let out a cough that signified your struggle against his member down your throat. But he didn’t stop right there. He was close to cumming.

It didn’t take long before Griffith pulled away, holding back his cum as he edged himself to save his release for later. Before you realized things, Griffith unzipped your gown, pushing it down and tossing the clothing elsewhere. He lifted you by putting one hand over your ass, and the other hand on your upper back.

Positioning you to lie down on the bed gave him an opportunity to lunge forward onto you, his face landing on your hard nipple. While he suckled on it gently, his two fingers traced its way to your clit, rubbing the nub fast in such a way that pleasured you. The sounds of his moaning, breathing, and humming did nothing more than to instill a feeling of guilt within you. You felt pleasure, yes, but your guilt for doing something sinful with the man you so despised made you want to hurl.

Griffith pulled away, still fingering you. “Mmmm….all the more to love. You seem to be slowly complying with my ways, dear. I like it.”

“Mmmmmhhhh~”

“Go on.”

After egging you on for a few minutes, Griffith edged you even more with his fingers exiting your entrance, earning a groan of frustration from you. Your eyes were closed and focused on his fingers’ rhythm, only to be interrupted by Griffith’s sudden departure from your clit.

“Gri…..ffith….”

“Hm?”

“Do it again…..please….”

Griffith chuckled. “Anything for my princess. Hmmm….I think you are ready to take me whole. But first, I will be needing this lovely cunt of yours to quench my thirst.”

“Ooooooooohhhh~”

Without a single warning, he slid himself between your inner thighs, spreading them wider. Griffith made an effort to raise your legs to rest just above his shoulders, assuming that of a position where he was about to eat you out.

He wasn’t joking. Griffith started to plant small kisses onto your clit, circling his tongue around as if he was French kissing it. His tongue explored every region of your small pearl, suctioning your most sensitive spot gently as to not accidentally hurt you. He used his two fingers to rub off the slick, prepping it before he finally re-inserted them right into your hole. You retaliated.

“Agh! It burns, help!” you protested.

“Bear it.” Griffith said, slightly frowning. “This will be crucial to prepping you way before you get to have me inside. Now, relax yourself, and do as I tell you.”

Griffith stopped talking at that very moment, seriously eyeing your pussy with great passion and dominion over your body. His face landed in between your labia, licking a strip off of your soaked cunt as he thrusted his fingers in and out of your wet entrance. You yelped, both out of burning pain and pleasure.

Then came Griffith’s proper response, he bobbed his head in a specific direction, eating you out like a crazed animal in heat. He spared no untouched region within your virginal depths, lathering his long tongue around your cunt’s sensitive brown/pink surface. Similar to sucking, he moaned while eating you out for his own selfish pleasure, which aroused you to a point of whispering each syllable of his name repeatedly, with a couple of “yes” that left your mouth.

Noises of whimpers and sloppy gobbling sounds filled the guest room, and since everything was soundproof, yelling out for help considering the party was pointless considering the party long ended and everyone invited were already asleep in their designated guest rooms.

Griffith sped up his pace, unleashing his inner freak as he licked and kissed every spot of your pussy’s semi-interior like a hungry wolf.

“Griffith…..I’m gonna….”

This was a sign that urged Griffith to pull away.

“Hold it off.” Griffith commanded.

Your pussy throbbed HARDER as he stopped eating you out in the middle of your incoming orgasm. This moment was truly not the time, you thought, and what you waited for was Griffith’s final goal—to take you in missionary.

“I’m going to take you nice and deep, and you’re going to be a good girl for me, yes?” Griffith asked, letting out a smirk.

You shook your head with all your might, denying that Griffith has been the reason you were soaked up in all this mess. Tears ran down your face, smothering your mascara all over your cheeks even though such wouldn’t be noticed by Griffith, since it was dark.

“Don’t lie to me.” Griffith said, his face strictly maintaining eye contact with you. “Your body tells me otherwise.” He grabbed you by the thighs which closed voluntarily, spreading your legs wider to gain access to your entrance once more. Before even entering you, Griffith teases your clit by rubbing the tip of his cock over it, earning a moan from you in return.

Then comes the hard part. Griffith inserts the head into your entrance, stretching it in a way where it feels like burning to you. He ignores your pleas, focusing on getting his cock to be buried into you in no time.

“Too tight, God be damned.” Griffith groaned. “Shhh, I got you. Shhhhh. You don’t have to worry anymore. I know what I’m doing.”

Griffith thrusted forward, ensuring that his length buried itself deep into your cunt. This earned a yelp from you, as you were not expecting his sudden intrusion into your guts.

“Griffith…..Why….are you doing this? I-”

“It’s because I’m the only one who can make you feel like the most special woman who has ever walked Midland’s ground. Apart from the hordes of men that want you, it is only I who promised to build my own kingdom for us to rule over the weak. You shall be my Queen, my Countess—and by achieving this dream, I would be able to fulfill my utmost duties as a citizen of Midland…..to weed out the poor and unfortunate from the ends of this world.”

“Huh? If that’s it, then I don’t want to-”

“Shut it.” Griffith scoffed. “You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, my love. From our childhood to where we currently are, I’ve always wanted to make you a part of my dream. And no one, not even your family, can stop us from doing anything to achieve it.”

Griffith began to slowly rock his hips in and out of you, the sensation of pain merging with a feeling far more pleasurable. Sounds of fast clapping filled the room, making it smell of sex all over. While doing the do, Griffith placed both his hands on your breasts, fondling and playing around with them as they bounced according to his rough motions.

Griffith set a faster pace this time, his thrusts growing more animalistic and primal. Fucking you felt good to him despite the tightness that clenched around his cock.

“Such a sweet, sweet girl dolled up just for me.” Griffith praised, his heavy breathing intensifying the scene. “I wonder how many men managed to take you in one night and if they’d ever compare to my abilities at present.”

“Ah! It….doesn’t…matter….!!!” you screamed. “Nnnnggghhh…..Griffith!!”

“….Well? What is it, my dear? Cat got your tongue?” Griffith laughed as he bucked his hips mercilessly onto your tight pussy. “Mmmmmm….I can’t wait to have this body all to myself, for the sake of….my dream…..!!!!”

“Griffith…..I can’t…..I can’t handle…..!!!”

“After all, you’re in my control now. So it’s best to surrender before I try anything else.” Griffith whispered as he leaned closer to your ear.

Griffith ruthlessly pressed his body against yours and forcefully kissed you once again, his hips pounding into you like a rabid dog. You couldn’t see him directly in the dark nor speak, since he took advantage of your open mouth to slide his tongue in and lap at every fluid your mouth had to offer. You could feel him getting close, and as much as you would like to protest your way out of this mess, Griffith sucked your tongue in the most disgustingly experienced way possible.

Not inside….

You thought. “Mmmmmhhhhh, mmmmhhh!!!!”

Griffith deepened the kiss and didn’t look back. He didn’t care as to whether he kissed terribly at this point, for all he wanted was to take full ownership of you. His hips rocked faster and faster, his moment of release coming much closer.

Pulling away, Griffith made a conscious effort to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, whispering inaudible sweet nothings into it like a lover in despair.

“Mmmmmm……All the….more to love…..No one will ever come close to making you feel the same way……”

“Griffith….Not inside……I’m going to—ah!”

“Then do it, love. Grind your way against me. Claw at me like your life depends on it. Show me how much you appreciate my efforts.”

After nutting in you raw, you moaned aloud while Griffith grabbed your hips forward to make sure every last drop of cum unloaded into you. His pacing slowed down as well as the sounds of cheeks slapping against skin.

“You did well, my love. Now open your legs wide and show me who this pussy belongs to.”

You, of course, rode out your orgasm and came down from your high. After the feeling subsided, you closed your legs intentionally out of shame.

“I said….open wide.” Griffith frowned as he used all his might to spread your legs once more.

Despite the sex being over, things didn’t stop there. Griffith shoved three fingers up your pussy, twisting and turning them in order to elicit a moan from you despite achieving a full-on afterglow.

After a while, Griffith pulled away once more after testing the waters.

“You did well, my love.”

Those were the last words you heard before your orgasms led you to fall asleep soundly and peacefully.

#berserk x reader #griffith #griffith x reader #griffith berserk #fanfiction #x reader #berserk griffith #yandere x reader #yandere griffith

472 notes · View notes

ibrithir-was-here · 2 months

Text

Some happy doodles of the Zoo Date!

#my art #blood of my blood #quincey harker #lu holmwood #Dracula #berserker jr starts out stressed but luckily has a significantly better time then his dad does when it comes to vampires #dracula fanfiction #dracula fanart #dracula daily

164 notes · View notes

elezenchaser-art · 9 months

Text

2022

Isa with his Keyblade To Moon and Back from @captainbobbin's fanfiction Left Foot Over The Right (go check it out!)

Copic Multiliners on paper, color added digitally

#my art #my-art #kingdom hearts #KH #kingdom hearts 2 #kingdom hearts 3 #fanart #fanfiction #saix #isa #keyblade #to moon and back #berserk #berserker #nobody #kingdom #hearts

289 notes · View notes

foxs0x · 4 days

Text

The crossover no one asked for is here!

In this comic Guts has been iskai’d into the world of BG.

Given his last experience with *sacrifices* and being a sacrifice himself, I imagine that when Wyll first tells him about his pact, Guts would likely assume that Wyll sacrificed someone other than himself to get his powers.

In short, Guts "disapproves" of Wyll. (AKA he wants to end Wyll and Mizora, except he hasn't because his brand ain't bleeding.)

(If you have not read Berserk I highly recommend it. In fact the new evil ending for BG3 is a reference to Berserk!)

26 notes · View notes

phantomstatistician · 6 months

Text

Fandom: Berserk

Sample Size: 757 stories

Source: AO3

#griffith #guts #casca #charlotte #femto #farnese #farnese de vandimion #judeau #serpico #berserk #fanfiction #ao3 #statistics #phantom statistician #guts x griffith #griffith x guts

67 notes · View notes

iloveblogging2 · 4 months

Text

Just toxic rambles😍🥰

You love him.

Everything about him.

Even though he's mean to you.

Even though he hits you.

Even though he cheats on you.

Everyone knows.

They wonder why you're still with him.

Even thought it's an arranged marriage you can still leave.

But you feel in love.

Each time he cheats on you, you brush it off.

Everytime he is mean and insults you. You ignore it.

Every time he hits you. You deny the pain.

Why?

Because your in love.

He will change, you can make him change.

You'll quit your job and focus on the marriage.

You'll cut off all contacts with friends and just be the obedient and supporting wife.

You don't want a child but you know he will stay with you.

At least for a while.

You we're so happy when you got pregnant.

Though he didn't feel the same way

He finally found you attractive only for you to get fatter and for your stomach to enlarge.

To him you look disgusting.

The child will probably be disgusting like you.

You irked him so much.

In public he denies the fact he slept with you.

So how did you get pregnant?

You slept with someone else of course

Which just reduced your public image

When your water broke he just left you with the doctors.

To him, why should he see someone so disgusting give birth.

In the end your plan didn't work because the next day he filed for a divorce.

Gojo Satoru, Albert Moriarty, William James Moriarty, light Yagami, Griffith, Eren , Aquamarine Hoshino, Izana, Kisaki, anyone that comes in mind....

42 notes · View notes

theepisceswriter · 9 months

Text

WELCOME TO CLUB RENAISSANCE !

(Aka Stallion's return event)

ＣＵＮＴＴＯＴＨＥＦＥＭＩＮＩＥＷＨＡＴ，ＰＯＷ！

OMGGGG, lovies I am SAUR excited to be back and share my creativity and world with you all and build off of the equally amazing ideas you have as supporters of my work. As an artist, having the inspiration and drive to write after not having ANY for so long means the world to me! So come help me spew out more content for yall!! And what better way to do it than a Beyonce themed event?

MASTERLIST (TBA once requests start rolling in)

HOW THIS EVENT WILL WORK

♡ Underneath the readmore tag there is an assortment of characters, tropes/situations (both sfw and nsfw), and even reader specifics to choose from annnnddd even wildcard options for you if there's anything I left out!

♡ You’ll choose a Drink (character), Beyonce Song (situations/tropes), and your favorite Yonce (reader specific).

♡ The characters listed are not the only ones available, all characters from the fandoms I have listed on my page are available! The ones listed are just the ones I get requests for the most or ones I’ve been having brainrots for lately

♡ You can send in all sorts of combinations and be as vague or descriptive as you want to be. You can list multiple characters, multiple situations, etc, etc.

♡ For example: "Can I have a Long Island Iced tea, Cuff It & Energy, with Femyonce?", "Can I request Zeke Jaeger with the fwb trope and nb!Reader?" and even, "Can I have One night stand trope with Gojo after he comes home after being locked away for so long?" Whatever you want baby I got you!

♡ Enjoy grandma's babies !!!

♡ CMON AND GRAB YOU A DRINK BABY ! (Characters) ♡

Long Island: Reiner Braun

Margarita: Toji Fushiguro

Martini: Gojo Satoru

Old Fashion: Nanami Kento

Mimosa: Jotaro Kujo

Cosmopolitan: Dio Brando

Bloody Mary: Geto Suguru

Whiskey Sour: Jean Kirchstein

White Russain: Eren Jaeger

Daiquiri: Zeke Jaeger

Negroni: Gutts

Gin Fizz: Shigure Sohma

Manhattan: Levi Ackerman

Mojito: Erwin Smith

Lemon Drop: Shuu Tsukiyama

Sangria: Benimaru

Screwdriver: Leonard Burns

Mai Tai: Character of your choice!

♡ CHOOSE A JAM TO BOOGIE TO! (Scenarios/Tropes)♡

♡ CENSORED (SFW) ♡

ALL UP IN YOUR MIND: Yandere

KITTY KAT: Sidechick-type beat

NO ANGEL: Troubled!Reader

PRAY YOU CATCH ME: Cheating

JEALOUS: Jealousy

ALL NIGHT: Domestic themes (marriage, children, etc)

SORRY: Reconciling

ON THE RUN: Criminal!Reader x Criminal!Character

HEAVEN: Death

LOVE ON TOP: Fluff

MINES: Any trope to lovers

BEST THING I NEVER HAD: AU (coffee shop, modern, organized crime, etc, etc)

LOVE DROUGHT: Angst

HELLO: First date

BREAK MY SOUL: wildcard! A theme you think of that might not be listed

♡ UNCENSORED (NSFW) ♡

COZY: Cockwarming

ALIEN SUPERSTAR: Monsterfucking

CUFF IT: Overstimulation

CHURCH GIRL: Religion kink

PLASTIC OFF THE SOFA: Aftercare (can be sfw)

VIRGOS GROOVE: Friends with benefits

MOVE: Dominatrix

THIIQUE: Body worship (can be sfw)

PURE/HONEY: Onlyfans!Reader

SUMMER RENAISSANCE: One-Night Stand

VIDEO PHONE: Phone sex

IF I WERE A BOY: Pegging

6-INCH: Sex worker!Reader

SANDCASTLES: Hate sex

UPGRADE U: Sugar Daddy/Mommy

HAUNTED: BDSM

BLOW: Oral fixation

PARTITION: Car sex

DANCE FOR YOU: Striptease

ENERGY: Mutual masturbation

ROCKET: wildcard! A theme you think of that might not be listed

♡ CHOOSE YOUR FAVORITE YONCE ! ♡

Femyonce: F!Reader

Thugga Bey: M!Reader

Themyonce: Nb!Reader

Diversce (I thought of this one real hard): POC!Reader (you specify)

73 notes · View notes

sweatytyrantobservation · 14 days

Note

What type of horses do you think Griffiths apostles would be?

What type of horses I think griffiths apostles would be?

God, I'm so ready for this. You have no idea

Zodd- Belgian Ardennes horse

Absolute UNITS.

Enormous draft horses built for pulling trees and logging. Not the tallest of the drafts but incredibly powerful, and otherwise pretty chilled out horses, of course you decide to piss it off, and there's no outrunning that thing.

Very zodd shaped animal

Grunbeld - Shire horse.

I chose a shire purely because of their height, if I'm honest,it's one of their most prominent features and the same goes with grunbeld, they're HUGE.

Locus- friesian.

Practically the same picture.

Look at the man, look at the horse. There's no difference. No, nothing.

Locus as anything but a black coated friesian is immediately wrong.

Irvine- hanoverian horse

Primarily chosen for their altheticism and being a horse used in show hunting. What Is Irvine? A hunter, of course.

Rakshas- Selle Francais

I chose the Selle because of their athletic abilities, agility, and natural compliance.

There we go! Was a pretty easy post since I love the apostles in berserk. I already had them picked out

6 notes · View notes

gutsheapofrawiron · 8 months

Text

[GRIFFGUTS FANFICTION] Only When The Crow Cried Did I See Why: Chapter 3

The chapel —a body battered— of my demise, determined by Fatality

Summary:

Griffith ESCAPES the LABYRINTH (John Green) while, in better times, Casca and Judeau have a moment

Read on AO3 or continue reading below

“We’re leaving?” Griffith repeated incredulously.

“Yes.” The child was tugging at his arm to get him to move along, and they started walking at a snail’s pace with Griffith stumbling every other step, struggling on weak legs.

“It can’t be that easy,” he breathed between steps. “This is an eclipse. You can’t just get out.”

The child’s selective deafness to his questions was starting to frustrate him more and more. It had been a long time since he was last able to talk to someone on somewhat equal grounds, so despite himself, Griffith was reaching out to any opportunity to hold on to such a rare thing. The child did not reply, determinedly continuing straight ahead, following the shore. They passed by a jagged pile of corpses about double Griffith’s height. The landscape was becoming rockier in texture.

The question was burning on Griffith’s tongue. His self-control waning, he let it slip.

“Who activated the Behelit?”

The child did not look at him.

“It’s not an eclipse.”

It took a while before Griffith processed what the child had just said. He gaped at them for a second too long to be considered appropriate. "What?"

If it was supposed to be a joke, it was a darn poor one.

"What do you mean? I'm supposed to believe this isn't an eclipse?"

The child glanced at him as they stepped over a particularly sharp rock. "Yes."

Griffith didn't reply, expecting the child to elaborate, but when the silence stretched on for too long it became apparent that they were not freely going to grant him one. He sighed. The two continued walking for a while more, the passage of time muddy and crawling.

As they rounded a corner of a formation of rocks –bodies, stacked on top of each other, again and again, both animal and man– about thrice the height of an average adult male, the landscape that met them was one enveloped in black smoke-like mist, hard on the lungs.

Griffith found that in his weakened state, he couldn't bring up a single sliver of appreciation for this change in scenery, coughing a little, pathetically. The child slapped his back lightly in aid.

As he reeled, Griffith realised the ground remained, regretfully, the same as before. They were still walking on a path of corpses. With no landmarks whatsoever to go off of and his already muddled state of mind growing louder like static, he had no way of knowing how long they walked through the black, the feeling that the path seemed to go on forever the only thing that reigned.

He was startled when, unnaturally quick for how far ahead they were supposed to be able to look, an old gate emerged in front of them, all chipped stone and punctured wood (a feast for woodworms), and they halted not even half a metre in front of it.

Sometime along the way Griffith had ended up leaning on the child almost fully to support his weight, troubled by his weakened muscles. The child had held him by the waist, seemingly unbothered by their difference in size, but now they carefully let go of him to step towards the gate, coolly pushing the doors open with both hands.

Griffith felt his knees try to give in as he looked through the entranceway.

Beyond, a vividly green field laced with trees at its edges met his eyes, a place unsoiled amidst all the filth and tragedy.

The child turned back to put his arm over their shoulders again, supporting him as they shuffled through the gate. Dazed, Griffith felt his lungs fill with crisp, cool air the second they crossed the threshold, the gate shutting behind them with a breezy thud, and as he glanced at it he saw that this side of the gate was covered with moss, healthy and dewy.

“There’s freshwater over there,” the child said, pointing to the other side of the field, or rather the clearing, as it seemed like the trees went on for a good distance beyond the initial lining of the grassland.

The grass a soft relief for his feet, they walked towards the forest edge, and indeed, there, a small brook flowed, forming the border between the tall trees and the bright grass. The child helped Griffith to sit down so he could reach it, the water streaming friendly through his fingers as he extended his hand. It’s real, he thought, pleasantly surprised by the chill.

“I assume it won’t poison me?” he asked, moving his hand back and forth to feel the slide of the water along his skin.

“The opposite. You’ll probably feel a lot better,” the child graced him with a reply, sitting crouched next to him. He hummed, his parched throat’s attempt at a cheer. He leaned forward and cupped his hands, lifting the cool water to his mouth, the touch rewarding him with sweet relief.

•

Casca’s eyes were comically wide as they settled on his cheek the very second he came into view. He could see her gather a heap of air in her chest in slow-motion, and knew that he would not be able to keep her from absolutely blowing her top at this moment.

“Griffith?!” she exclaimed, hurrying over.

Her hands rushed to turn his face for a better view, her usual timidity completely forgotten.

“What happened? I knew you were fighting, God, if I didn’t let you-” her fingers touched his bruised skin tentatively as she fussed. Griffith held her wrists in silent request to be let go, putting her arms down.

“Casca, Casca, it’s alright,” he assured her. She looked at him with an incredulous expression.

“Alright? Alright?! Look in the mirror, Griffith! No mask is gonna hide this, you might not care about the pain, but think of what this’ll do for morale!”

Her arguments were painfully realistic in their concern. Griffith waved them away.

“It’ll go away in no-time, Casca. Besides, it was an accident,” he explained.

“Acci-” Casca was stunned into silence, but recovered quickly. “Accident or not, all the men will know that Guts fucking punched you and didn’t even have the common decency to hold back despite his buff arse,” she bristled.

“Well, then. Let this be the story that will make its rounds: I approached Guts to discuss something in private, and happened to take him by surprise, which led to him accidentally lashing out before he realised who I was. By virtue of his impeccable reflexes.”

Griffith considered the conversation done with that, and moved to leave her in favour of joining the men around the nearest fire, but a voice piping up from behind Casca stopped him.

“It may be the truth, but they’ll enjoy Casca’s version of the story far more than yours, Griffith.”

She stepped aside, surprised, and Judeau came into view, smiling lightly.

“Sheesh, that does look nasty, though. Do you need a balm or something similar?” he let out a whistle in a bent attempt at showing sympathy.

“I already treated it last night,” Griffith said, before remembering he needed to speak to him. “I did have something to talk to you about, after we eat.”

Casca’s eyes were staring holes in his bruised cheek at that, clearly dissatisfied with how he refused to let worry fester about it, but he refused to let his resolve break in front of her. Judeau looked at him curiously for a moment before giving his assent.

“Sure thing,” he said, and with that they seemed to silently agree to finally have breakfast, settling with the other men around the fires, sharing bread, cheese and tall tales of conquered women.

Rejuvenated, hydrated, and slightly rested, Griffith was put back on his feet by the child so they could continue their journey. They entered the forest, the shadows playing cool figures on his bare skin, scabbed and scarred. Tiny birds chirped high on the branches, and Griffith risked the likely consequent ache in his neck to look up at them, surprised that there were, in fact, other living creatures in this world, completely healthy and unsuffering.

“We’re going to retrieve something, and then we can leave,” the child said, breaking the silence.

By some miracle, they willingly shared information, **unprompted. Griffith lunged at the chance.

“Is it far?” he asked.

The child shook their head, their hair sliding back and forth along Griffith’s arm with the movement. He was still using them as support, and feeling wholly unguilty about it.

“No, we’re nearly there.”

He let out a deep breath in relief.

The forest around them had gradually gotten more dense and dark, taking bites out of the warmth.

After a while of walking comfortably on the soft moss, they had to start batting branches out of their way, bushes, and shorter, more aggressive trees obstructing their way. How the child knew exactly what way to go was a mystery no mortal man could solve. Griffith wondered if he was still immortal. He looked down. His body seemed to look back at him, very confident in the ‘no’ it was supplying him with as an answer.

Without warning, the child stopped, and Griffith, still looking down, stumbled, almost tripping over a traitorous tree root. The child held him back from an unfortunate demise with both arms, stabilising him. “We’re here.”

Calming his heartbeat, Griffith lifted his head, and realised they were standing at the mouth of a cave.

In anticipating horror, Griffith grimaced at the mean-spirited gravel littering the ground inside the cave. Unforgiving, the child urged him to continue moving. “Come on.”

Griffith managed to be man enough to not audibly cry out in pain, but spiritually he was nearly sobbing.

They did not need to walk deep into the cave to find what the child was looking for. As his eyes got used to the darkness, Griffith managed to discern the vague shape of a heap of a creature, slowly moving at the rhythm of large lungs breathing. It had already sensed their presence before they even entered the cave, and its red eyes were warily keeping track of their limbs, growling softly as they approached. They stopped so close to it that Griffith could see the fine rivers running through its irises. Something slowly moved closer to them in the shadows, and, catching the movement, he realised the creature had wings.

“This really isn’t an eclipse,” he said, still looking at the dragon.

“That’s what I said.”

“Tell me, then. What it is.” Griffith turned to the child, keeping the dragon in the corner of his eye.

The child stared at him blankly.

“You know.”

Their eyes rested on the creature in front of them for a moment, before returning to Griffith.

Griffith followed their gaze. He straightened. The dragon locked eyes with him, and Griffith’s jaw clenched. A strange sense of disappointment filled him.

Is this all it is? A mismatched combination of decay and a fool’s paradise.

Predictable, but mediocre, my psyche.

He took a step towards the dragon, causing it to immediately slink away, the growling now much louder. As it retreated, the dragon carefully but swiftly swiped a small object back with it with one claw, guarding it with all its teeth, which it was now displaying to the two humans(?) in front of it.

With immense effort to make the movement look effortless, Griffith bent forward, watching the dragon carefully, reaching his hand out at a crawling tempo towards the object; a little brown package. Keeping his voice low, unsure whether it could comprehend his language, yet certain it could understand tone, he spoke, nearly crooning.

“You’ve done a wonderful job of keeping it safe,” he whispered. The dragon’s look of indignation morphed into one of surprise as it registered all the scars and blisters littering his arm, before it decided that Griffith could not possibly be a threat with his body in such a miserable state, physically relaxing. Griffith took the package, soft and malleable, in his hand, reaching out his other hand to touch the dragon’s nose.

“Thank you,” he said. The dragon’s eyes looked at him with quiet devotion as it let out a soft hum, almost human.

Griffith took the package in both hands and unwrapped it in the presence of his silent audience. He held the fleshy, bloody thing that was unveiled in his hand for a moment, feeling the pulse. Then, holding it over his head, he opened his mouth, all but unhinging his jaw, before lowering it and swallowing it whole.

“There you go,” the child said as Griffith closed his mouth, and the dragon let its head down to rest on its claws, closing its eyes as Griffith saw the world tilt, falling into a future unknown.

•

“What happened between those two?”

The sun was unusually but pleasantly warm for the time of year, caressing their faces.

Casca looked at him, halting in her reparation of a sparring sword, a primitive thing of battered wood. She calmly put it on the ground, before straightening and sending a stern look Judeau’s way.

“You’re supposed to be sparring,” she stated, looking at the men in front of them, hacking in on each other with similarly archaic swords. The removal of the literal edge of the fighting managed to shift the focus on improving the men's stance and technique instead of physical strength and prowess. Casca had deemed it necessary.

“Not my style to be well-prepared for life’s whims,” Judeau said offhandedly, playing with a throwing knife in one hand as he looked at the two men fighting closest to them.

“WATCH IT!” Casca yelled as one of them stumbled back, thrown off-balance by a meagre stab in the direction of his solar plexus.

“REMEMBER THE TRIANGLE!” she urged as the man looked at her in alarm, shaking like a nervous rat. She sighed as the fallen soldier got back onto his feet, frantically keeping his feet in a triangle formation, one pointing forward, the other outward.

“I wish I knew,” Casca lamented, rubbing her forehead.

“Neither told you?” he asked, surprised.

“Judeau, remember who we’re talking about.”

Judeau sucked a breath in through his teeth, wincing. “That’s true. Must be a hell of a task to keep sane,” he said sympathetically, squinting at Guts on the other side of the training field, busy helping one of the men improve his blocking manoeuvres.

“I try to keep in mind that there’s a point to all of it,” Casca said, letting out a deep breath. Judeau looked at her from the corner of his eye, pushing the knife back in the belt over his chest.

“Well, Griffith asked me to get some specific herbs, but I’ll have to go to the apothecary in town. Want to tag along?” he asked, adding, “after this, of course.” A nonchalant gesture of the hand was thrown in the direction of the sparring.

Casca shook her head, frowning. “Guts would be the only one left in charge. I don’t trust that to end well.”

“We can wait until Griffith’s returned. He won’t be long now, I’m sure. It’ll be a deserved change of scenery for the day,” Judeau reasoned. Griffith had left for the war council quickly after he’d tasked Judeau with getting the herbs for the sleep concoction, leaving him guessing for whom the expensive mixture was intended. Not that it took a lot of guessing. Casca and Guts, meanwhile, were ordered to prepare the men for the battle to retake Doldrey, which was looming in their not so distant future.

“You’re probably right,” Casca said. “Okay, I’ll go.”

She caved, picking up the wooden sword again to continue fixing it. Then, somewhat bashfully: “Thanks for inviting me.”

Judeau smiled. “Hey, no problem. Every human being needs to rest occasionally.”

The small smile on her face did not escape him.

•

Gennon had not held back this time. Griffith had to put all his energy into walking normally, instead of submitting to the need to limp as he entered the camp, holding his horse by its reins. Every band member who spotted him lit up, visibly glad to have him back. That eased his internal anguish somewhat, and he felt the tight smile he had plastered onto his face morph into something genuine. The sparring session he’d instigated was gradually drawing to a close, the men covered in sweat and grime as they sat scattered around the camp save for a handful of hardier soldiers, who were still pushing through on the makeshift training field under the watchful eyes of the commanders. As Griffith approached to announce his return, his attention was caught by the sound of light laughter, too high in pitch to be coming from a man. He saw Casca and Judeau standing on the other side of the field, Judeau performing excessively intricate tricks with his throwing knives while Casca laughed in awe. An interesting observation, not having gone unnoticed by the man to his right either. Griffith sent a sidelong glance in his direction, and saw his eyes looking distant, hard to read. The men who had still been sparring had now long noticed Griffith, and his name dropping in their conversations repeatedly ripped Guts out of his own mind, his head turning to meet Griffith’s eyes.

“Griffith,” he breathed, before walking over to him, his gaze landing on the horse behind him.

“Want to groom her at the stables?” Guts asked, the invitation such a rare thing coming from him it successfully caught Griffith off-guard.

“You’ll come with?” he replied with a question. Guts’ eyes fled to the ground, flustered.

“We’re pretty much done here, anyway…” he trailed off.

Griffith kept his face smoothed out, choking the smile that threatened to creep up.

“Alright. They need to rest and clean, anyway. You two have tormented them enough for today, I’m certain,” he said, moving to walk in the direction of the ‘stables’ (a rich word to use for something that was so temporary it did not even have a functional roof), wordlessly inviting Guts to follow along. He did, and with a last quick look at Casca and Judeau in the distance, Griffith turned his full attention to him instead, silently gleeful.

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

#berserk #griffguts #berserk fanfiction #guts/griffith #cross posted on ao3 #GHORI Original #Only When The Crow Cried #scheduled

4 notes · View notes

non-un-topo · 4 months

Text

Mark me down as unwilling to read fanfiction for media I recently got into because there's not one work out there that isn't about shipping/romance and I'm a hater

#i feel brave posting this on tumblr lol #i want so badly to read some good fic for blue eye samurai and berserk but i don't have the guts (ha ha) to look.#i'm not... an anti-shipper? or whatever you call it? i just don't care about shipping anymore. i want good gen fics that are about the STOR #but this is fanfiction so. it's gonna be all shipping all the time.#maybe i am just a cranky person lolll #to be clear: there's no specific ship i'm talking about for whatever fandom. i just don't like it in general.#or rather - fics that centralize shipping/romance. is anyone else like this or am i a jaded freak?#bc i know kind of the entire point of fandom is shipping. at least that's what it feels like. i used to be fun though!#if anyone tells me i'm ace you're wrong lol. but maybe! but no

18 notes · View notes

jean0farc · 6 months

Text

#!! - 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑴𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ; ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Griffith X You (fem! reader)

𝖈𝖜: RAPE/NON-CON.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊:

Finally finished the fic after months of procrastinating.

This fic is not proofread or beta read.

Don’t try this at home, kids!

….And some rape down there. I don’t condone any of this irl (no shit). It is to note that it is part of the story’s progression and I only intend to explore such dark elements like the series always intended to do so in canon.

The “don’t like, don’t read” rule applies here. Kindly heed the tags one more time before proceeding.

“Griffith…I…” you paused as you caught your breath. You were failing to fake self-confidence at this point in time, your legs shaking as you could only watch yourself give into the fear that made its way through your head and heart.

“I…wasn’t expecting your presence here…I….”

Griffith’s eyes narrowed in response, letting out a low hum. He was getting closer this time, giving you less time to react and run for your life.

You took a step backward, pressing your hands against the dresser for some support. You knew you’d hit a dead end the way you clumsily hit the wall, groaning softly in response. You waited and waited for a sign to attempt running past Griffith and escape the palace with all your will’s might. You still had your bathrobe on, which made you partially vulnerable to him, but you didn’t care. You just had to run away from the man who has been invading your personal space.

“Worry not, princess. I came not to disturb your slumber. What I ask for is one simple thing that I believe you and I could share. If I’ll allow you to do so, that is.” Griffith said.

“Who are you to tell me what to do with my Kingdom? This is my lair, as bestowed by my father before me. The fact that you’re trespassing does not make you worthy of seeing me at my-“

Your words were cut off by Griffith, his cunning tone making itself clear in the dead silence. “And who told you that this kingdom was entirely yours? Remember, your induction to queenhood was only taken into consideration because of your father’s sudden death. Besides, it’s not as if you have any experience in leadership whatsoever.”

“Are you underestimating me?” you asked, slightly annoyed with his attitude.

“Why, of course not.” Griffith said as he took brisk steps forward, making it almost impossible for you to escape. “Want to know a secret?”

You nodded in response.

“I killed your father.” Griffith said, shamelessly. He walked three steps forward, caging the both of you within a small distance.

“You son of a bitch! Why….why would you do such a thing?! My father has been-“ you were interrupted once again.

“I had to do it. There could only be one way to test as to whether Midland is fit to be led by a Queen all on her own…..and turns out, the ‘Queen’ in question has no experience.” Griffith said.

“How dare you insult me in my own palace!” you exclaimed. “I’m leaving!”

“Not when you’re barely dressed like that.” Griffith smiled deviously. “Now…..come here….”

“What….what are you implying?” you asked, attempting to charge your way to the exit of your bedroom. “N-never mind….I’m fucking leaving.” As you charged your way to the exit, you felt two hands wrap around your waist from behind. No, it was too late. Griffith caught you. Pulling you backward, he lifted you to your own bed and started stripping down until he wore nothing but his Behelit.

You attempted to escape once more, only for Griffith to pin you down to the bed and press his lips into yours. You fought against the sheets and turned your head to break the kiss, but your attempts were rendered futile as it only prompted Griffith to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Griffith kissed you harshly, and it frankly felt like kissing an untamed beast cornering its prey. You never knew Griffith was ...quite an expert at this, his mouth slightly nibbling at your lower lip everytime he retreated.

After finally pulling away from you, Griffith latched his face onto your neck, positioning himself next to your right ear. “Give yourself to me, Princess. After all, your Kingdom….will soon be mine.”

“No…NO!!!!” you exclaimed.

“A little stubborn, are we?” Griffith asked, tilting his head. “Well, it’s not like you’ve stood a chance. We’re taking off this one, okay?”

You kept tugging at your bathrobe’s ‘belt’ to keep it away from the filthy man on top of you. “Griffith, I don’t want this, please…..”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Too stubborn.” Griffith said, his touch growing angrier as he grabbed your bathrobe by the waist, curling his hand to a fist. Using his other hand, he slid a sleeve of the wardrobe off your shoulder, revealing your bare shoulder and right breast. Griffith dug right in, his lips kissing your hardened nipple as he engulfed his mouth to suckle it whole. While doing the do, he used his right hand to slide off the other sleeve of your bathrobe, exposing your other breast and stripping you down to your naked form. Griffith pulled away from your nipple, impressed with how he rendered the Queen of Midland helpless under his touch.

“Mmmm……what a pretty little thing you make, just for my kingdom.” Griffith let out a satisfactory hum. “This will be a rather fun time showing them who’s deserving of the throne.” Next thing you knew, Griffith was about to go down on you, positioning himself around the area of your waist.

“Don’t resist, Princess. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs wide open.” You hesitantly obeyed, up until Griffith grabbed you by your inner thighs, spreading them wider and raising them. Finally, he slipped your legs up his shoulders. It felt dirty having someone’s face right up your pussy, especially since this was your first time. Your mind wandered as you closed your eyes, hoping everything you just witnessed was just a dream. But no, it wasn’t. You fought against Griffith’s clutches, tugging at his hair and pushing him away.

But this just prompted him to dig right in, lapping at your fluids as he used his hands to part your lips for better tasting. You muffled a moan from the pleasurable feeling, covering your mouth with one hand. Griffith’s tongue worked you in fast, yet practiced motions—the tongue moved swiftly and curled just the right amount to send you shivers down your spine, earning muffled whimpers from you.

Granted, vibrators didn’t exist in the Medieval Era of Midland, so you might as well indulge in that feeling of someone’s tongue right up your pussy.

Griffith withdrew from eating you out for a while, his breathing and humming loud enough to send you goosebumps. “Mmmm…. You’re already this wet from a little kissing and heavy sucking. I wonder how it would be like to have you sing while having myself fully inside you, to have you clench around me while I slowly take what’s rightfully mine.”

“L-let go!!!!” you screamed. “I don’t want this!!!”

“You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, Princess. After all, you’re something…..” Griffith said, strict and unwavering. “Magnetic.”

Griffith moaned as he dug right back in, his tongue hovered over your clit. He started tracing small circles in a slow pacing, which left you impatient and begging for more. You tugged into his hair trying to fight him off, but as previously stated, you were left with no defenses against his strong grip.

“Griffith!!! Oh God…..!!!! I’m gonna…..!!!”

The feeling gave you that guilt, guilt for enjoying this man’s advances on you, and guilt because you just couldn’t believe your sense of authority was being challenged by a man of common birth.

But Griffith refused to stop. No, he didn’t stop suckling at your clit gently to give you a break. Griffith was merciless in the bedroom, leaving you with no choice but to accept the fate you’ve been accustomed to.

“Agh! Griffith!!! Stop….!!!!” you moaned out loud.

Griffith’s tongue kept going, and it wasn’t long before he inserted two digits inside your entrance without warning. He just didn’t care. His tongue slowly picked up the pace, speeding up and finally making you reach that sweet, sweet climax you’ve been waiting for. You fucked back subconsciously against his tongue, riding out your orgasm until it was ready to subside. After coming down from your high, you suddenly realized Griffith was looking down at you icily with his bright blue eyes, his body towering over yours despite lying down in bed.

You were screwed. What was about to happen next?

“Hmmm…..perhaps you are ready to take all of me. I’m going to fuck you so good you’d actually forget being the Queen of Midland.”

“No…..NO!!!!” you exclaimed, attempting to get up and reach for the door. You were stopped dead by Griffith once again, leading him to push you back to the mattress and grabbing you by the legs. Spreading them wider, Griffith let go of your legs, only to stroke his length before initially inserting it in your entrance. Slight precum formed through a pearl-like shape at the slit of his cock, adding lubrication to the process of entering you. Before you knew it, Griffith made efforts to adjust and bury his length within your vagina, though you ached in retaliation.

“Aghhh!!! It hurts! It burns! Let go!”

“Hush, princess. I know what I’m doing.” Griffith said as he spread your legs open for a better view. He adjusted himself by taking slow yet sure steps in burying his length into you, filling you to the brim. You were at this point begging to be freed from his grasp, though your fainting strength was no match for him.

Placing his hands on your wrists, Griffith pinned you down and started thrusting his hips in a slow, yet ambitious pace. You bit your lip to hold back your moans, but it was all for naught. You let out a small “uh” while he rocked in and out, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air as he leaned closer to your ear to speak.

“You don’t stand a chance against ruling Midland.” Griffith muttered at an intimate distance from you.

“What…..Huh…..?” you whimpered, your breasts being grabbed as it bounced from Griffith’s thrusts. “What….do you me-ngggh!” you grunted, trying to resist him by trying to get up. “I owe you nothing! Just please, let me rule my Kingdom in peace! I’ll do anything…..anything….but this…..!!!”

“Surrender your pride, little one.” Griffith said as he caught his breath. “I want you to dream of this.”

As a means of defending yourself, you attempted to grab Griffith by the hair to pull and tug on it roughly. However, your efforts to distract Griffith failed. You had to take responsibility for what had to happen next, and it was all because Griffith wanted a taste of your kingdom.

“I have every right to follow my dream, princess. And I want you and your kingdom surrendered to me. That is the pinnacle of achieving my dream.”

“You’ll…..you’ll never…..have my kingdom…..” you fought your way to speak in the midst of denying the pleasure Griffith gave you.

“You’ll take whatever I deem right to give you, princess. After all, your kingdom and this body will be mine.” Griffith said.

You screamed as loud as you could that the servants and every guest would hear you. The walls were soundproof, but you didn’t have a choice.

“Please!!!! I don’t want this! Please get off!!!”

“You do know screaming out for servants to assist you won’t do your kingdom justice, right? Mmmmm…..”

Right on the dot, Griffith stopped thrusting, pulled out, and aggressively flipped your body over that you were facing the bed. With one fell swoop, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pinned your head to the pillow to muffle every moan and protest you had up your sleeve. Without warning, he repositioned himself right up your entrance, taking you from behind.

“This is a far better idea to keep your mouth shut and do as I say.” Griffith commanded.

“Mmmmmhhhh…….mmmmhhhhh!!!!”

The sounds of lewd clapping resumed, Griffith’s cock milking every last bit of your pussy’s juices with fervor. There was no turning back now, and he was truly getting at it, without any form of warning or informing you of any discomfort felt. It was like Griffith only cared for his own pleasure and never left crumbs of remorse for your wellbeing. This left you scarred—physically, emotionally, and most significantly, spiritually.

“Mmmmmm……I’m getting quite close.” Griffith smirked as he leaned forward. “What are you going to do about it, princess? Squirm? Run away?”

Your eyes widened at his remark, your body telling you to escape as he was nearing his release. You certainly did not want to carry his child, nor want to do anything with the monster who pounded on you animalistically.

“Noooooo!!!!!!” your voice protested while being muffled by the pillows where your head rested.

“As I said, you’ll take whatever’s been given to you. Now….”

It wasn’t long before your body betrayed you. You felt your climax approaching despite being against the thought of Griffith fucking you. Subconsciously, you fucked back, trying to get Griffith’s cock deep in you before you could feel his fluids leaking straight from your soaked cunt.

Three.

Two.

One.

Your moans and grunts filled the pillow, adding to its warmth while Griffith bit down your neck out of extreme pleasure. His thrusts sped up as he began to feel ropes of cum shooting itself inside you before pulling out. And the feeling was mutually GOOD. You let out a groan as your muscles relaxed, Griffith moaning as his cum began to leak out from your newly filled cunt. You were soaking wet and drenched in sweat as Griffith stayed inside you for long.

You were now marked as his. You didn’t know what to do at this point as you were deflowered after your coronation day.

“Sleep well, princess. Provided you are to raise a child from our time together, just let me know. We can build a kingdom where you could rule by my side.”

You couldn’t respond, which prompted Griffith to flip your body back to lying on your back. It was truly a tiresome night, filled with intensity and passion as Griffith stole everything from you.

You just never stood a chance.

Your eyes suddenly admitted defeat, staring up at Griffith as he looked down at you with a look of an angel. He was charming, so to speak, but heavily dedicated to what he promised to achieve.

And he achieved it.

He achieved his dream.

#griffith x you #griffith x reader #berserk griffith #yandere griffith #griffith berserk #griffith #berserk anime #berserk manga #berserk x reader #smut #berserk #fanfiction #x reader #yandere x reader

261 notes · View notes

nefastum · 1 year

Note

What if Guts hadn't left the band? :(

Ahh, Anon, that is something I have pondered many a times~ Imagine if he had just been able to say what he was feeling, let Griffith know that all he wanted was to feel like he was enough for him.

I know this was likely not the answer you were expecting, but ahhhh here, have a fanfiction ^ ^; ♡

----

The sky was barely light, a dim blue casting a ghostly hue over the snow buried cobblestone and windowpanes. It crunched under boot as the tavern fell into the background. May as well make his way out of Wyndham now, the day wasn't getting any younger, and the dull ache of old breaks told him a storm was on its way. If he was going to make decent ground before getting caught in it, he ought to be on his way.

As nice as chatting with Judeau–and Corkus, to an extent– had been, he was eager to get departures over with. All the talk about ambitions, and now about if he'd like to have Casca in his arms, his head was getting a little heavy from pondering it all. It'd be easier on the road. No looking back until he returned as something worthy of Griffith's notice.

"Guts," the voice was steely, almost as brisk as the winter air that morning.

"Is it true?...Do you mean to leave the Hawks?"

Guts stopped, turning to look back at the road they'd come up. Casca stood just behind Griffith, one hand clutching the other to her chest. She looked worried, and the tension radiating from Griffith told him her worries had been passed on to the soon-to-be White Phoenix General. Guts heaved a sigh, white puff of air taken by the chilly breeze.

"Yeah. Sorry about this."

Griffith’s eyes shot wide before narrowing dangerously. He took a step closer, blue coat blowing in the wind tunnel created by the street they stood on. His hands looked red from frost. He must’ve been cold, Guts thought.

"Have you forgotten that you belong to me, then?"

Guts took a deep breath through his nose, eyes not meeting the intense blue of his former commander's. They rivaled the brightness of every summer sky painted together. It hurt to look directly into them sometimes. Especially when it felt like doing so could shake something loose in you.

"Don't suppose you wanna make this easy and wish me a happy journey, do you?"

He could see Griffith’s jaw tighten. The shoulders of the proud hawk set, he looked like he wanted to pounce. His hands still looked cold, though. Idiot shouldn't be out in the snow.

"I won you with the sword, and I can keep you by it." A threat. Griffith wasn't someone to be taken lightly.

Guts held up a placating hand, he tried but couldn't find the nerve to try and smile at Griffith.

"I'd rather not duel you this time. Maybe you can settle for some friendly farewells?"

Griffith's lips parted, and Guts could have sworn if he were an actual hawk a warning call would have rung out shrill and haunting. Panic? Rage? It was hard to place on Griffith’s usually measured expression. Perhaps he was simply angry to lose property. Guts swallowed the bitterness of that thought and sighed again.

"Suppose we can leave the 'friendly' part off… We aren't exactly friends, I guess. Especially not right now, huh?" A humorless chuckle.

All the rage or panic shattered in Griffith’s eyes and instead was replaced with blown wide surprise. His mouth hung open, and shoulders dropped just slightly, enough for Guts to pick up on. It looked like he'd been punched in the gut.

"Hey, Griffith, are you-" a worried Casca reached for his shoulder but stopped short. She looked shaken.

"We aren't… friends?"

When Griffith finally spoke he sounded less like a threatening leader of thousands and more like a lost child. His voice was lighter, run thin on air. He sounded hollow.

Guts readjusted his bag over his shoulder, shifting his weight awkwardly.

"C'mon, Griffith. You know I don't have much going for me, not like you or the Hawks do. I'm just floating from place to place, battle to battle. I ain't got a dream that I can stake my life on… Someone like that, who just lives 'cause he was born, can't stand beside you as a friend. Can they?"

The wheels in Griffith's mind must have been whirring, and after an agonizing moment of frantic thought, it seemed he landed on a realization. Guts' words felt familiar to him, from the looks of it. His reddened hands clenched into fists, head bowing so that silver curls hid his eyes.

"You… How did you hear that?"

"I was on the steps. Needed to talk to you, I guess… No, I think I just wanted to see you."

Griffith’s head lifted, those striking blue eyes glittering with moisture.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, can't remember what for now. It doesn't matter much anyway."

Guts began to turn away, unable to watch the odd reaction from Griffith any longer. It was making his chest hurt for some reason, and his heart was beating painfully against his ribs. He'd finally said it. Griffith had finally learned of the perpetual thorn lodged in Guts' heart since that day on the stairs.

"You must hate me."

It could have been a question or a declaration, but to be honest it sounded too broken to be either. It stopped Guts in his tracks and he turned back to look at the other man again. His shoulders were slumped, hands slack at his sides, and the way his head bent forward had caused a waterfall of snowy curls to block his face. Casca once again reached for him, her hand hovering over his shoulder. It looked like he was shaking.

Maybe he really was cold.

Something glittered, dropping like a liquid diamond from the cheek of the usually proud leader of the Hawks. It hit the snow silently.

"Griffith… I don't hate you," Guts swallowed again. These emotions rising up were unnamed and choking his ability to think properly. "It's… probably the opposite."

Griffith's head shot up, eyes widening once more. There were a thousand questions in those acres of blue, and Guts could barely make out one of them. Those eyes flickered across Guts' face, as if he was searching for some decryption. Guts had no way of knowing what the right answer would have been, he couldn't have guess the question to begin with. Instead he offered a small smile, hoping that would bring some comfort to the other man.

It certainly did something, as Griffith's eyes widened a fraction before something akin to understanding washed over his face, perhaps a bit of hope, too. He again looked like a child.

"If it's that way, then please… don't abandon the Hawks." The way he said 'the Hawks' as if it was a placeholder in his words. Don't abandon me.

Guts cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head with his free hand.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that, Griffith. I've already made up my mind."

"Then un-make it."

There was challenge in his voice again, the fire that was Griffith reigniting. His eyes were ablaze.

Guts pursed his lips, not sure he was happy that Griffith was in a fighting mood again. The day was wearing on, and his resolve was starting to fail him. He was near ready to rebuff the Hawk again, but he was cut off by Griffith's voice again. This time, it was oddly gentle. Back to the warmth he slipped into when times were easy, and he was close with his comrades. It was the voice Guts had once thought of as 'the real' Griffith.

"If you won't stay for the sake of another's dream… then just stay as my friend."

It was hard to fight the way his heart skipped at that request. It was so soft, sounded so earnest. Why was Griffith changing his narrative now?

Guts made a tch sound, looking to the side.

"You know I ain't good enough yet for you to call me a friend. You said it yourself–"

"I was wrong."

Guts looked back at him then, eyes wide.

"I was wrong, and those words never… they could never apply to you." The way he said 'you' was so quiet Guts almost didn't catch it.

He wondered now if Griffith even remembered there were others around him, or if he had completely shut them out. It was like all he could see was Guts, and perhaps they'd have to find an excuse for his vulnerability later. Guts could sympathize, though. The feeling was mutual. Right now, seeing the real Griffith actually see him…

All he ever wanted was for Griffith to see him.

It was dazzling to be seen by him.

Guts swallowed thickly, gathering nerves that he didn't know he had use for. It was somehow more daunting than stepping into battle. With a few careful steps he closed the gap between them, reaching out to clap a heavy hand on Griffith's muscular shoulder.

"Y’know, you oughta try being honest more often."

A laugh, broken but joyful in Griffith's chest as he smiled up at Guts. He looked warn out and relieved all at once. Guts realized then he'd just put Griffith on a crash course of the rejection he himself had been bottling up for weeks. They were monumentally good at hurting each other.

"I'll try," Griffith beamed at him, and suddenly that hurt felt lifetimes away.

Guts smiled back, shaking Griffith's shoulder once before squeezing it and letting go. He shook his head, fixing Griffith with a friendly look. He raised an eyebrow.

"You look like you're freezing your balls off."

"Oh, I am."

Guts laughed, the weight instantly gone from his shoulders. As long as he could be at Griffith’s side like this, see that smile and hear that laugh, he would fight on in whatever capacity his commander needed of him. The Hawks were his home. He couldn't believe he had almost thrown that away.

Sometimes, you don't know what you have until it is gone.

----

Sorry about word spewing, love ♡ It will happen again, I am sure. Thank you for the lovely prompt, it tickled my brain in just the right way haha ♡

I'll edit this soon and put it up on ao3 when I get the chance ~

#berserk #griffguts #fanfiction #has this been written better before?#probably but i still had the drive to try hueueeu #thank you for reading my brain rot

79 notes · View notes