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amaranthineghost · 1 year ago

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hello!!!

can you do a one shot/ fanfic that Lando has been dating Y/N since they were 15/16, so for a long time, and she just found out she’s pregnant. you can come up with how they would react and how lando would react but i’d love if they were unsure of it in the beginning, but it grew on them as time went by.

thanks!!!!

| OUR WORLD IN YOUR HANDS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando x reader

ꕥ summary: they hadn't planned for pregnancy, but it changed their life.

ꕥ authors note: enjoyed writing it more than I thought I would honestly. tried to make it so she was more unsure than he was and in the end, I liked it. working on incorporating more dialogue in the future because it is definitely not my strong suit. I'll also alternate between requests and my own ideas so if you requested something, keep it in mind <3

ꕥ warnings: mentions of alcohol, sex, barely mentions thoughts of abortion

TWO RED LINES. her heart had skipped a beat, more like several as she stared at the dark red line and a faded pink one next to it. she couldn't believe her eyes. it couldn't be possible, it repeated in her mind.

but it obviously was. they hadn't been very careful, they're young and dumb and in love. two people so deeply in love that they couldn't care less. at least she thought they did at the time.

staring at the test in front of her shook her whole world, an entirely different branch of her life she'd never expect to take this soon. it was right in front of her.

despite being together for a year or two shy of a decade, it felt too soon. they were still young, had plenty of parties lined up in the near future. plenty of drunken nights running through the streets of monaco barefooted, hands intertwined as the world was focused on them. how they'd escape to the farthest rooftop, drunken makeouts leading to more as they came together under the stars.

they still had time. time to be what they'd missed as teenagers, to make memories. they had time to spend countless nights, wrapped in each other's arms under cold skies on balconies across countries, discussing their future. when they'd get married, where they'd like to live, if they ever left monaco which seemed unlikely, the places they've yet to see, how many kids they'll have and their names.

time for reckless driving through the streets of monaco with the wind crashing against them, hands raised as they cheered. he always drove to the most beautiful sight in the city, but always claimed it would never come close to the beauty she possessed.

time for runs across the beach in tiny bikinis and swim trunks as they raced on the sand. his arms capturing her waist as he tossed her around, feeling the vibrations of her laughter and screams against his skin. a feeling he'd forever cherish.

it all disappeared with a single faded line. everything she knew about their future collapsed with the test barely bigger than the length of her hand. it would affect everything.

it was conflicting. becoming a mother was all she ever dreamed and talked about, when she became older. she'd mention to her curly-haired boyfriend countless times of her dreams of having the mini versions of him running around the house they shared. the longing to see his eyes and curly hair with features of her own on another warm body. their child.

but she wasn't ready. in her mid-twenties, with years of life left to live child-free. tens of grand prix's to attend in support of her mclaren lover, watching 10 feet away from his car. nights to catch up on hours of sleep she lacked from keeping up with lando's lifestyle.

having a kid swept it all off the table. no more late night dalliances, or getting so drunk to the point where lando would have to pull over the car to hold back her hair as she threw up in the bushes.

no more parties at ungodly hours of the night, watching drunk lando stumble his way to the dj booth, giggling over a glass of alcohol at his actions.

no more sleep. she knew she'd be woken up numerous times in the night from the cries of her child, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to give up sleep yet.

and she wasn't sure lando wanted to give up formula one either. obviously, a balance between the two worlds is possible, but she knew he would want to be there with her, and she didn't know if he could.

it scared her. the thought of this changing the dynamic of their relationship on levels she couldn't even begin to think of. she's seen countless videos of how having a child completely changed the way couples worked, good and bad, and she didn't want that fifty-fifty.

she'd sat staring at the test between the tips of her fingers for a solid twenty minutes before she heard a patterned knock she grew familiar with from her beloved boyfriend.

the door muffled his voice just slightly, "darling, you 'right in there?" his hand wrapped around the now cold door handle and twisted it, but it failed to turn as it pressed into his palm.

it was unusual for her to lock the door, she knew he would question it. and she knew she couldn't use the excuse of that she's changing or showering because lando simply didn't care whenever she was. he'd sit and keep her company till she was done with whatever she was doing because it was often what they did. sit in silence, enjoying the presence of one another.

"yeah, I'm fine!" she called out to him in a rushed tone, flinching enough that she nearly dropped the test. she watched as the door knob shook, shoving the stick into the bottom of the trash temporarily. she'd remember to remove it eventually.

she turned on the sink as she hid the box of tests in the depths of the cabinet under the sink. looking at herself in the mirror, she'd wipe away the tears that built in her eyes. she didn't want him to notice, but like always he would.

from the locked door to the second she opened it, he'd watch it. she'd see him leaning on the wall just outside the door, patiently waiting for her to come out to him. he wouldn't question it, he trusted that she would eventually come around to tell him. she always did.

with the frequent trips to the bathroom and the slimmed selection of foods in the fridge, he'd suspect something, but he wouldn't know for sure. not without her word.

because for the time being, it was a secret she kept to herself, as much as she despised secrets. she felt like she was guilty to be hiding something from the person she trusted most in the world.

times when she thought the room was empty, she'd be pacing long ways back and forth with her arms crossed and her face solid. he'd watched her from the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest, mirroring her position slightly.

times when she'd drop whatever she was doing to rush into the bathroom and spill her guts into the toilet as he held her hair and ran his fingers along the nape of her neck. she claimed it was a stomach bug, but he knew better. he also knew better than to question her words so he said nothing, but made a multitude of soups for her to sip on, taking notice of her now acute taste.

times when she'd cry over the tiniest of things, comforting her in his arms while she sobbed against the fabric of his very worn hoodie that happened to be her favorite.

it wasn't a great shock when she first told him. stuttering over her words as she fumbled with the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt that went well past her fingertips, he could see tears brimming her eyes with her heightened sensitivity.

so when she muttered the words, "i'm pregnant," his world stopped, restarted, reloaded and stopped again when he finally processed the words. though he knew he could've expected it, hearing the confirmation leave her lips left his world tipped sideways.

but he wanted to hear it again, needed to, words breathlessly escaping his lips, "what, love?" he heard her the first time, but he wanted to hear it again. and again and again.

she choked on her words, sobbing out again, "I'm pregnant, lan," he pulled her into his chest, his hand finding it's way to the side of her head as he cradled her, pressing his lips against her hair.

as they swayed, it finally dawned on him, muttering unsure and excitedly against her head, "I'm going to be a dad?" his breathing deepened, his tongue gliding across his lips, then biting at the sensitive flesh. he felt his heart hammer in his chest, nearly comparing to when he first asked the girl out all those years ago. he reminisced the time when the biggest deal he could think of was rejection. now the girl he had crushed on when he was just a teenager just told him she's pregnant. with his kid.

part of him couldn't be happier, they had spent countless nights in bed, lying on their sides facing one another with stupid grins on their faces as they pondered their future together. whatever they wanted, it always had the other in their thoughts and plans.

this was just their plans manifesting faster than they might've hoped, and sure, he wasn't totally certain that it was the right timing after all. but this was their dream, and maybe they just needed time.

time to accept how greatly their life would be affected. he thought about how he'd have to leave her for days, weeks for his career, the few outlying times when she'd travel with him. he knew that would change, leaving her home with a new life to take care of besides her own. he hated the thought of leaving her.

they needed time to think, whether it was together or just by themselves. they needed to figure out how they'd make it through, if they could. which was a question in itself.

they needed to talk because part of her didn't think he would be so accepting of the change life threw them, permanently altering their course of life and the years to follow.

deep inside, they're scared. they knew they would've been, planned or not. it didn't make it any easier. but when he asked such a simple question, it lifted a massive weight that had been carrying on her shoulders. part of her knew he'd always be so accepting. everything is an experience after all.

with every month passed, every growth of the life within her body, he'd mention. he was the nerdy type to compare the size of the baby with fruit. he'd goggle each week with every new development she'd create. it shook his mind to even comprehend. she could make bones, organs and the tiniest lashes of their soon-to-be kid all within the confines of her body. to him, it was sacred.

and of course, he'd tell just about everyone from every team. all the drivers, mechanics, pit crew, team principals, the list goes on and so does his rants about her.

countless photos of appreciation for her on his social media, after all she was carrying his child and he was ecstatic. he'd spent every waking moment he could with her, his hands always somewhere on her, prodominantly on her growing stomach.

when he felt the first kick, he pulled his hand away sharply, looking at her with a dropped jaw and wide eyes, "it kicked me!" he'd exclaim and she slapped his shoulder, scolding him.

"don't call the baby an 'it!'"

"what else am I supposed to call it?" again, earning another slap to his bicep, and he'd look at her with a growing confused look.

"stop slapping me!" he held up his arms in defense as she scowled at him, her arms crossed over her chest. she pursed her lips before sighing as he'd replace his hand on her stomach.

"babe, I don't think this baby likes me," he looked between his hand and her eyes, feeling the movement under his palm. it was a weird sensation, something he'd never expect to feel so soon, or at all.

all she could do was laugh at the stupid expression across his face as he looked back and forth in bewilderment. the warmth from his hand, and the small calluses sent goosebumps across her skin. it incited a smirk to take place on his face, but she slapped it off. he'd expect to feel more of those as the months went by, especially with all the sly comments she'd hear slip past his lips.

with every ultrasound appointment, he'd be there. he'd make sure of it, no matter where he was or what he was doing. she also scheduled them in accordance to his race and where in the world it took place.

every time, his eyes would be locked on the screen that projected his child, a part of him in another life form. a smile always creeping into his face as he held her cold hand. more often than not, he'd get curious and try to become the technician, stealing the equipment out of the professional's hand. his girlfriend would scold him like he was some sort of dog. in response he'd groan, rolling his eyes at her.

he'd still try though, and the technician laughed it off. he'd make comments to her in reassurance, "babe, i've got this," he'd tell him as his hand with the wand came closer to her stomach.

"where's your degree then?" she snapped back, giggling at his sudden pause before he shrugged, waving it off his other hand.

" 's at home."

when the time finally came to birth their new life into the world, god did lando panic. everything he had prepared himself with went out the window when she'd mutter the words he'd been waiting to hear.

"lando," she mumbled as she sat on their couch, turning to him with wide eyes, "I think it's time." her sleeve-covered hands were at her face as she bit nervously on her nails.

he'd stutter over his words, hands in his hair, "you're joking." he'd say repeatedly as he rushed around the apartment, grabbing things. he was the type to grab everything and forget her still on the couch.

she'd call him on her phone when she sees him in his car from the window, through the pain, she laughed at him, "forget something, norris?"

"no, darling, I've got everything-" she'd see his movement pause, his hand returning to his hair, "fuck!"

when he'd come back to help her, she was nearly collapsed with laughter despite the pain she felt through her body.

"stop laughing at me!" he whined but he was laughing with her. nonetheless, they'd get to the car.

she was in labor for hours, crunching on ice chips that he'd fed her carefully. he'd massage her shoulders, hold her hand when contractions got particularly unbearable. he knew not to mumble bullshit words of encouragement, a word of advice from his mum, advice he'd gladly listen to.

instead he'd show her he was there by doing everything she asked until it was time to actually deliver their child they've been waiting 9 months to finally meet.

with a pale face, lando would comment, "I think one kid is fine after all." she'd roll her eyes at his words as she held their daughter in her arms, already seeing themselves in her. she was exhausted and he knew. he put her hair up, cooing words of appreciation to her now that all was done. he took care of her.

he'd remember call his mum later to tell her thank you.

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cannellee · 6 months ago

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would you ever write hybrid ABO? like they have animal traits and features (usually ears and tail) but beyond that its basically ABO

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆ (hybrid au!)

୨୧ hybrid! alpha! tokyorev x hybrid! omega! reader (pairing : mitsuya, draken, taiju, chifuyu, ran)

— a little peek of what a life with them would be like in a hybrid au!

cw : slight mention of sex in taiju's

I can give it a try but I don't think I'll be writing hybrid content in the future!

MY MASTERLIST : ☆

𐙚 ALPHA! MITSUYA

mitsuya as a hybrid radiates even more warmth than usual, he has such an inviting presence and such calming pheromones it's hard to ignore.

he is attentive and nurturing, always reassuring you and detecting even the slightest changes in your mood or well-being. he's quick to provide comfort and support during times like this when you're more vulnerable. he gives you little soothing licks on your cheeks and softly bites your neck in order to make you feel safe and cherished.

his tail often wraps around your waist or rests gently against your leg, it's his way of showing you have his full attention, even in public. he notices right away when you're upset and your ears drop a little or whenever your frenetic tail isn't as active as usual, you just can't fool him.

he takes care of your hair, ears and tail the best way he can. he makes them shine and all soft. he knows you like your fur to be well maintained, so he's careful.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚 ALPHA! DRAKEN

boy is alert. he has straight ears, just like those of a doberman and they're always moving and twitching in every directions, capturing any little noise.

hybrid draken is your loyal guard dog, literally. if you couldn't already tell from his frown and angry pheromones, the way his tail is immobile and his ears are lying flat on his head are a heavy indicator of his irritation. he's watchful, stays vigilant and always positions himself between you and potential threats.

but draken is gentle and sweet, and whenever it's just the two of you, he lets you pet his head and scratch his scalp. he loves the cute purring you let out because of how pleased you are to have tamed this imposing alpha.

�� · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚 ALPHA! TAIJU

taiju as a hybrid is easily mistaken as a wolf, he's just this big and intimidating. he has sharp, attentive ears and an enormous build. he looks like he'll crush your bones if you look at his omega (which is true). he's always growling at others and often overwhelms you because of his strong pheromones.

his teeth are sharp like razors and always make you tremble whenever he's grazing your skin with them, making you feel even smaller than usual. his scent is a constant reminder of the dynamic of your relationship, you're weak and sweet and you listen, while he's the one in charge who knows what you need.

he considers that he can touch you whenever he wants, you're his after all. he likes to see you crumble under his touch, see how pouty you become once he plays with your ears or pull on your tail when you're having sex from behind, just like animals. it hurts so good you end up crying for more like a dumb little puppy.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚 ALPHA! CHIFUYU

he loves to groom you, taking care of your fluffy tail and loving to watch every single one of your reactions. he likes the way your ears moves and reacts to his words and comforting pheromones and how your tail seems to swing even harder each time he tells you you're pretty.

similarly, you often tease him and tickle his ears, knowing fully they're sensitive and causes him to blush. he's nuzzling you 24/7, showing his affection in every ways possible.

hybrid chifuyu is even more protective but extremely gentle and caring, the duality is insane and hard to ignore. it makes you feel privileged and warm inside to know that your alpha is acting like this towards you only. you're able to do whatever you want with him, put little ribbons on his tail, spray it with your strawberry perfume, messily curl his fur with your hair straightener and decorate it with other pink hair clips you have. chifuyu simply wants you to enjoy spending time with him!

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚 ALPHA RAN

ran absolutely loves his adorably sweet omega who's always so happy to see him, tail moving so fast he can barely see it.

he teases you about it after an argument for example. he'll try and make you laugh when you refuse to look at him, trying hard to ignore him. but he'll drop a few funny remarks and even while doing your best at remaining stoic, your tail just won't cooperate! look at that excited fluffy thing and the angry pout you have! it just doesn't match and makes you look even cuter.

he loves to tease your little ears too! softly pinching them with his fingers, watching with a sadistic grin how it makes you whine. it doesn't hurt though, but the unexpected touch has you all flustered.

and the teasing is always one-sided, you can never seem to be quiet enough to surprise him from behind and jump on his back. he hears you because of how your happy tail bumps into things and brushes against furniture. but he'll sometimes play along and let you creep up behind him, acting all scared before enveloping you in his arms and scent, which is even more prominent as a hybrid. it's powerful and clings to you for days.

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blueysobssesions · 4 months ago

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Part 2 of hsr men voice lines about you please

Note: sorry for not updating the hsr voice lines part 2- My house is flooded- wahhhh

HSR MEN VOICEL LINES ABOUT YOU (2)

Characters: Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, Jing Yuan, Boothill

Aventurine (ooc?)

— Y/N? They mean a lot to me, of course. As much as I don't show it, I... Ahem care for them deeply. Do you take her to your gambling sessions?? — Y/N isn't particularly fond of gambling, so I don't often take them along. However, they sometimes join me when there's a special occasion or if they're really curious. She's my lucky charm ~

— There was this one time when Y/N and I went out for dinner, and they accidentally spilled their drink all over her dress. It was a mess, but we both couldn't stop laughing about it. Her dress was worth 90 thousand credits, of course I had to buy her another one ~ ! Which was worth 100 thousand. —- she's so... *sigh*

Boothill

— Well, she ain't just any 'lucky girl', she's a star herself. Pretty, smart, and she brings out the best in me. — She's the kinda person who makes the galaxy seem a little bit brighter, y'know? She challenges me in all the right ways and keeps things interestin'. — I would sometimes see her wear my hat chuckles now, that's cute ain't it? How do you show your love to your lover? — I reckon it's all about them little things, you know? Like bringing 'em their favorite tea when they ain't feelin' the best or takin' 'em on a stroll through the stars on a clear night. Love: To Y/n Ah, darlin', you look just as lovely as a starry night under a clear sky. Love: To Y/n (2) Ain't no words that can capture the way you take my breath away, but I reckon I'll spend a lifetime tryin'.

Dr. Ratio

— That- gambler, told you didn't he? sigh — One thing about her that stands out is her patience and understanding. It's... a quality I value greatly Soft Spot — I... care for her, if that's what you're implying. It's not as sensational as you're making it out to be. Who fell first? Y/n: He did ~ ! — And is this information necessary to share? How do you show your love to Y/n? — I show my affection in my own way. It's not... overt displays of gestures, but in the little things. — I... make sure she's not overworked. Take care of her needs discreetly. It's about being there, without needing to make a show of it.

Jing Yuan

— We met when I was in the middle of a meeting, in the Seat of Divine Foresight. She’s a new resident in the Luofu, that day was probably her first day here and she mistook the entrance of the Seat of Divine Foresight for a café’s. What does he love about y/n? —Oh, many things. She’s hardworking, kind-hearted, understanding… silence well, she’s also quite pretty — She always get's flustered when I compliment her… especially if tell her that I love her.. Who fell first?? — Y/N fell in love first, while I began to fall later on… chuckles — There are many moments I cherish. Whether it's a simple walk under the night sky in the gardens of the Seat of Divine Foresight, or moments where we share a quiet moment over a cup of tea...and sleeping sessions…

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blitzyn · 1 year ago

Text

welcome home

leon s. kennedy x ftm!reader

request: Is it possible for you to do a Leon Kennedy x ftm reader where Leon's been away for months and it's just sweet sex? Maybe a hint of cockwarming(Leon falling asleep while still inside), loads of praise and just in general body worship stuff! - Anonymous

synopsis: leon comes back home after being months away for a mission and he's eager to feel you again

a/n -> this was actually my first time writing cunnilingus i was STRUGGLING but all in all this was exciting to do i had fun. anyways alhaitham next i haven't done him in a while. ALSO. IM SORRY I KEEP CHANGING THEMES AND USERS 💔

wc -> 2.4k

cw -> cunnilingus, fingering, praise, p in v sex, cockwarming, ftm reader - use of the word 'pussy' and 'cunt' for reader's genitalia, brief description of top surgery scars, soft leon (heart eyes), not beta read

It was silent when Leon finally made his way back home, the soft moonlight shone brightly, as if treading a path for him.

He was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of your body in his arms as he held you tightly, to smell the scent of your hair, and to hear the sound of your laughter that sent butterflies to his stomach no matter how many times he's heard it.

His keys jangled loudly in the silent night as he unlocked the front door, swiftly entering the house to make his way upstairs. He knew you were asleep since the lights weren't on, as made evident by your figure covered in blankets. Slowly, he made his way closer before sitting on his side of the bed, creating a dip in the mattress. Gently, tenderly, he reached out and shook your shoulder, chuckling softly at the sight of you taking a moment to stare at him.

Your drowsy eyes lit up in instant recognition as you sat up eagerly to take him in your arms in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you again, [Name]," he said, burying his nose in your hair to breathe in your scent. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Leon," you said, relief flooding through your veins, grateful to see him home. Reluctantly, you pulled away, watching the way his eyes darted all across your face to take in your features. "You've been gone for so long. I was so worried you'd..."

"I know, sweetheart," he muttered, cupping your cheeks to gently rub them with his thumbs. "And I'm sorry for that."

You nodded, holding onto his wrists. He took a second to gaze into your eyes before he pressed his lips against yours, cherishing the way they melded together with practiced ease. You sighed contentedly, leaning into him to deepen the kiss.

In need of air, you moved back, only for Leon to follow after you, refusing to take his lips off of you just yet.

"Hey—Leon!" You laughed, trying to tilt your head away from his onslaught of kisses. "I still need to breathe."

"Your lungs can wait," he jokingly said, chasing after your lips. You leaned back far enough to lie down, rendering you unable to resist his affection any longer. Not that you wanted to, anyway. Soon enough, he found himself on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face—on your forehead, nose, eyelids, cheeks, and lips before moving downward towards your neck.

At first, they were innocent, but when he tilted his head and sucked on the piece of flesh that pulled a moan from you, you knew then that neither of you would be getting much sleep tonight.

"Leon," you gasped out, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. "You just got back... Aren't you tired?"

"Honestly, yeah," he admitted, sliding his hands over your shirt to caress your waist. "But I'll be fine," he muttered against the column of your throat, pressing his lips to it for a chaste kiss before sitting up.

"The question is, are you tired?" He asked, scanning your expression for any lies you might've tried to hide. "I don't wanna push you."

You shook your head reassuringly despite having woken up not too long ago. "I'm good. Don't worry about me."

He let out an amused huff through his nose, the corners of his lips quirking up in a smirk. "No promises." He gently tugged on your shirt in a silent request to take it off, swiftly pulling it up and over your head as soon as you nodded.

"Christ, Leon, your hands are cold!" You let out a surprised yelp, arching your back in a futile attempt to get away. He only laughed, sliding his hands all over your stomach mercilessly to use your body heat to warm them up until you finally relaxed.

He leaned down again, gently biting on a spot over your collarbone as he ran his tongue over it soothingly. He moved again, kissing a trail down your sternum until he took one of your perky nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. You bit your lip, watching him toy with your chest, running his fingertips along your scars. A heat pooled in your stomach as he slid lower, finding himself slotted between your legs. He watched your face intently, burying his thumbs underneath the waistband of your pants to slowly pull them off upon finding no disapproval from you, his breath hitching at the sight of your cunt.

"Fuck..." He whispered, blowing a teasing puff of air onto your clit, lips quirking up when you shivered. "Missed you and this pretty pussy," he groaned, hiking your thighs up and over his shoulders. Electricity shot down your spine when he looked up at you and gave it a quick kiss before encasing his lips around it, sucking gently.

You sighed, reaching down to comb your fingers through his hair. He hummed in response, curling his arms around your thighs to keep your legs open, squeezing the swell of them with his calloused hands. He moved down to give your pussy a long lick from your hole all the way back up to your clit and down again, savoring the taste of your juices on his tongue. He looked up through his lashes to gauge your reaction, feeling his cock throb in his pants as he softly ground his hips against the mattress.

You let out a moan when he pressed his face firmly against your cunt, eagerly sucking and flicking his tongue up and down your clit. Pressing your heels against his back, you rocked your hips, tightening your hold on his hair as you tugged on the strands.

He let go of one of your thighs, pressing two of his fingers against your hole, swiping upwards to gather some of your wetness before pushing them inside, groaning against your nub when you clenched around them. He curled them, searching for that one spot inside you that'll have you cumming in no time.

A subtle grin lifted his face when he saw you jerk, legs twitching, before diving back down to your clit. He was gentle but relentless at the same time—a blend that had you reeling for more.

"Fuck, Leon," you moaned, squirming. Your belly heaved as you looked down with half-lidded eyes, meeting his.

"That's it, baby," he muttered against your skin, giving it a harsh suck. "Moan my name just like that."

He pulled away slowly, his lips and chin glistening with your juices as he raised his free arm to drape it across your hip and inner thigh. The fingers inside you stopped, pressing against your G-spot while his other hand spread your pussy lips. Leaning over your crotch, he spat on your swollen clit before rubbing it in tight circles with his thumb. You shuddered, tightening around his fingers as his saliva mixed in with your fluids.

"You taste so fucking good," he mumbled, licking his lips. He began moving his hand again as he stared up at you with heat evident in his eyes, watching you toss your head back in ecstasy. "I could stay here for hours."

He curled and crooked his fingers, listening to the sounds of your sopping pussy around him, squeezing and trying to suck him back in whenever he moved away. "You're so wet f'me... This how much you missed me?"

"Uh-huh." You groggily nodded, rocking your hips against him. Your cunt throbbed—you were sure he could feel it—with the need to cum, legs writhing just a little bit more. You bit your lip, whining and gasping as you tensed, inadvertently trying to close your thighs around his head.

"No, don't do that," he said, taking his hand off your pulsing clit to hold one thigh open while his tricep kept your other one down. His arm ran across your lower abdomen, gently bobbing up and down with every labored breath you took. "Keep your legs open... Let me watch you cum 'round my fingers."

You could only nod, utterly drawn to the rasp of his voice and the undeniable authority in his tone. You whined when he latched back onto your sensitive clit, flicking his tongue up and down, eager to make you orgasm.

"That's it, baby," he muttered, giving your nub a firm suck. "You're so close... C'mon, give it to me." He groaned, grinding harder against the mattress as he moved faster, pushed deeper, until finally, you came around him with a loud moan.

"There we go..." He nearly came in his pants as he curled his fingers into the special spot inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. "You did so good, sweetheart. Missed watching you do that for me." Sighing, he sat back up and pulled his fingers out of you to lick them clean, staring straight into your eyes.

With a grunt, he flopped beside you, turning your body so your back was flush against his chest as he ran his hands along the side of your thigh. His painfully hard cock was pressed against your ass, grinding against you leisurely.

"You wanna go all the way?" He questioned against your ear, his hot breath fanning against the shell of it to bring shivers down your spine. Even when the throbbing between your legs hadn't subsided yet, you couldn't find the need to decline.

"Thanks, baby," he said. You could hear the faint smile in his voice as he shifted around behind you, listening to the sound of rustling fabric and the jangling of his belt buckle. He tossed his pants to the floor haphazardly before swiftly pulling his cock out of his boxers. It throbbed fervently, leaking with precum and leaving your skin slick when he dragged it along the inside of your thighs.

He grit his teeth as he rubbed the shaft of his dick against your pussy, mouthing at the back of your neck before he slowly pushed his way inside you again. The two of you let out satisfied noises, savoring the way he stretched you out so perfectly.

"You're so tight..." his voice was strained as he spoke through gritted teeth, roaming his hands along your body. "You were made to take my cock like this, huh?"

"Mhm," you signed contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut. "Couldn't touch myself without you here."

"Poor boy," Leon teased breathlessly, snaking an arm under you to toy with your nipples, ghosting the tips of his fingers along your top surgery scars every so often. His free hand moved down to rest on your belly, gently pressing down to feel himself thrusting inside you. It was far too late at night to do anything intensive, but both of you were satisfied with just soaking in each other's presence. He held you close to him, whispering those sweet words that you've been aching to hear ever since he had to leave for his mission.

He was already on the verge of cumming just by eating you out, and it was no secret to either of you with the way he twitched and throbbed. He spent countless nights fucking his fist trying to imagine it was you, but his calloused hand could never compare to your soft and warm cunt.

"Fuuuck..." Leon drawled out, fucking you a bit faster. "I'm so close..."

"Already?" You laughed quietly, hissing when he pulled about halfway only to ram himself back inside in response before resuming his relaxed pace. "Okay! Sorry, sorry."

You bit your lip and let out a pleased sound when his free hand shifted itself to pat your clit before massaging it, lifting your own arm back to run your fingers through his hair again. You turned your head, connecting your lips with his passionately. You moaned into his mouth when your sensitivity from earlier began pooling in your abdomen again, earning a beautiful groan from the man behind you when you tightened reflexively.

Breaking away, you lazily pushed against him in sync with his thrusts, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when you could feel the heat burning brighter in your stomach.

"Fuck... That's it, sweetheart," he panted, tugging you closer, fucking you just a bit harder. "Cum for me again. Please, pretty boy, I wanna feel you cum." He rubbed your clit with just the right amount of pressure, brushing up against your G-spot with every thrust. He sucked and licked and kissed the skin of your neck, littering it with hickeys and shallow bites.

"Shit, Leon, 'm gonna... gonna cum again," you gasped, your hips jerking. You could feel him nod in response, but he was in no rush to get you to orgasm. He maintained the pace until he felt you squeeze tight around him and let out a loud moan, your body tensing and convulsing for a moment. The sight and feeling of you cumming sent him right over the edge as he swiftly pulled out with a wet squelch, pressing your thighs around his slick cock to fuck the plush flesh.

With an audible groan, milky white ropes of cum spurt out of the tip of his cock, landing on your skin and the bedsheets in front of you. He pressed himself flush against your body until his cock stopped throbbing and jerking before finally relaxing with a satisfied sigh.

"That was so good, [Name]," Leon praised, nuzzling into the back of your neck. "You did amazing. Like always."

"I know," you responded swiftly, feigning arrogance. But you could hardly keep up the facade, softly laughing at yourself. "But you did amazing, too."

"I know," he parroted playfully, giving you a quick kiss to the nape of your neck when he suddenly shifted to push his softening cock back inside your hole. He caressed you reassuringly when he felt you tense, explaining that he wasn't going to move. Not too much, at least.

"Now go back to sleep," he instructed, exhaustion taking root in his voice as he pulled the covers over your spent bodies. He wrapped his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace, listening to the sound of your soft breathing. "We'll clean up tomorrow."

You rolled your eyes with an exasperated huff through your nose. "Fine." Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling your body relax. "Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

cross-posted on ao3

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silkythewriter · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! Can I request alastor x reader where the two were married while they were alive, but reader died via illness or something and went to hell (though they never partaked in the cannibalism) and the reunite in hell?

“I'll love you 'til I'm dead”

Warning!: Angst, but eventually fluff! A bit of OOC since I haven’t written in awhile.. (.,.)💧

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note: LONGGGGG TIME NO SEE, HIYA! IM SO SORRY FOR MY HIATUS OF SORTS BUT I FELT LIKE WRITING SUM SMALL ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ I apologize!, I hope you guys enjoy and I’m so sorry for disagreeing yet again!.

Summary!: Spouse! Reader dying via sickness, but reuniting with alastor in hell.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

Louise (Louise)

I'll love you 'til I'm dead

Louise (Louise)

Not even if she likes the way you dance

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

First of all, he cherished you to the fullest content. As stuck up as he seems to be smile and all, he was in desperate need of support and attention. And you supplying both of those was all he needed even if he didn’t say out loud the tender touches and moments you both shared alone was enough to tell you everything.

Your relationship was nothing less then sweet and tender, and depending if you knew of his..ahem..little side hobby, it was innocent as well!

He cared for you so deeply, so desperately, to the point where you became his tie to humanity. Of course he knew how to play a role of a sane man, but even then he needed you to tie him to the small humanity and sanity he had.

Although not a big fan of physical affection himself he would in private of course, indulge in your soft touches, and hold. He and there he may quietly slip next to you just so you could softly run you fingers across his skin.

But of course the unviable happen, as the world ripped him of what he held so dear. Maybe as a punishment for his sins and misdeeds, or simply because it could.

Of course in the 30’s medicine was far from advanced, not only that but expensive. So when the news arrived of your newly found sickness all he could do was smile and nod at the doctor as if he wasn’t receiving the most dreadful news.

At first, he genuinely did hope for a recovery, he believed you would get better. Sure a tiny voice in his head was feeding him scary thoughts, and his gut twisted and turned. He felt something was off but surely it was nothing!, right?.

But as your health deteriorated so did his mental state and sanity, even worse then it once was. He put up a front though, for your sake and his, comforting you and saying how you’ll be fine soon, and recover then both of you could go off and do something you always wanted to do.

At some points of repeating this it really turned into him assuring himself. That your not leaving him, no, not anytime soon.

The more you fell ill the more you watched him spiral infront of you. And all you really could do was stare at him with sadden eyes as you gave comforting touches against his cheek or holding him close, even if you could barely pull yourself up from the bed you laid.

You felt your time coming close to ending, and somehow so did he. But unlike you he denied it to the fullest extent.

“Please dear don’t speak of such things, don’t worry yourself. You’ll be fine you’ll see!, now just rest my dear”

He wanted to believe it’ll pass over anytime now, ignoring the doctors he spent fortunes on. And sometimes he does blame them even if they just told the truth. He hated how they couldn’t help you, how he couldn’t help you.

So the day of you passing was the day he lost his final tie to humanity. If not for you, why give such a nasty world mercy?.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

The minute they lowered your casket and buried you with the dirt is also the day he decided to amp up his murders.

He’s not sloppy with his murders their always calculated and tidy but grossem. Even with this, losing you he couldn’t concentrate which didn’t help his case as his blood lust grew and grew.

Each and every murder his mind went blank, thoughts of you kept flooding in that he desperately wanted to rip from his mind.

If a woman that wore you same fragrant passed him. She would be gone in a matter of days.

Nights were colder, harsher, he always assumed karma would catch up to him, but to him not you.

He often questioned what happened how did it happen. How did you even get such a illness?, and why did it have to be you?. We’re you in heaven watching him in his pitiful state? Was there even such a thing?. If there was…he surely wasn’t going to see you he knew where he was damned to go, but you?, he was sure you deserved the Pearl-ist set of wings.

Depending on the days, months or years following your death, he’s like a ticking time bomb.

He yearns for you in such a way he’s humiliated at it in a way. He misses you desperately, widowed too soon, he always assumed it would be you to be in this position, but he assumed wrong.

Even then he couldn’t tell if he could subject you to the twist of his heart and guts. He would beg to die before you, but the pain he feels now is something he would never want you to feel.

Following thoughts of your death was also his. Would he get to see you soon?, one last glance before being damned?.

He never truly moved on, cause you were his only love. Loving someone for him atleast, was rare in a romantic sense.

At some point he genuinely does just continue his murders till his death, maybe it was your passing that truly killed him. After your passing he was a bit hasty, maybe that’s what lead him to be shot in the woods. But who truly knows?

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

Now, after his death is where everything truly came together.

His rise to power was fairly quick killing overloads one by one gaining more voices on his radio.

But the lingering feeling of hope stayed in him…maybe you were here? Waiting for him?, But at the same time he hated this life for you, in such a miserable and disgusting yet admittedly amusing place(at least to him)

Now depending on how you found him maybe the minute his radio debuted. Or maybe by a game of telephone by the residents in hell whispering rumors and describing someone all to familiar to you.

Either way! You guys do eventually find each other. By chance or destiny is up to you

The minute he spots you, hears you, even senses you, he freezes. His smile never flattering but static surrounding the area as he processes what’s happening. Is this some sort of trick?, how..how did you end up here?

In a matter a seconds though he’s in front of you, looming as his shadow grows in suspense.

He holds his appearance and self image very important but in this tiny moment of silence. He lets it slip even if just a bit, smile never faltering but I’m his eyes a glimpse of renewed joy. Genuine joy, not form the harms of others but from something warm…something bitter sweet.

Maybe it’s you who pipes up snapping him from observing you like a painting in a museum.

“See?” You said softly grabbing his hand gently like you used to do, as you softly brought it to your face and softly planted it on your cheek. “I’m real” you said with a soft smile (SILENT HILL REFERENCE!!��\_(ツ)_/¯)

Depending on where you are he’s quick to whisk you away to somewhere secluded.

Despite the questions on his mind all he can do is silently stare at you taking in ever detail, even if some changes here and there, you were still you. The you that he missed so desperately for all too long.

Even if not one for physical affection he’s quick with holding you, scared of you being taken from him again, taking in all he can.

Your so much more precious then he leads on, and he’ll be damned to second hell if he loses you again.

In the period of first meeting you again he is keen on keeping an eye one you 24/7, doesn’t matter what powers or how long you survived without him in hell. He can’t risk it, especially not now as he started accumulating enemies so quickly.

He’ll treat you like it’s your first time dating, of course in his old time-y way, but either surprising you with flowers at random times of the day, or watching you get giddy when he kisses the crown of your head.

Now that he knows, and felt the pain of losing you, every moment you have together form than on is cherished more than before. He remembers every day with you like the back of his hand, what you ate, what you said, what you wore, and more!

He know’s…he knows he’s a messed up, and vail man. He understands the gruesome things he’s done with little to no regret. But if he did in somehow and some way do good, something good to earn you back in his afterlife man is he greatful for it.

Some nights he does just stare at you. He’s scared, he will never show it but he is. If he loses you again, for eternity, he’s not sure what’d he do with himself. And that, the fact you weight so heavily on him is the second scariest thing, first being losing you.

Over all, he’s taken aback having you back, but he gets use to it very quickly, your soft comforting touches and your voice that brings back a flood of memories is something he will never forget nor let ago, he isn’t losing you this time, and he’ll do anything to make sure of that.

ꕥ☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼ꕥ

WOW THAT WAS LONG, I LOVED WRITING IT THOUGH OH MY GOSH I LOVED THIS IDEA, PLEASE REQUEST AGAIN!!! \(^ヮ^)/

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hoseoksluna · 6 months ago

Text

TIME | knj

pairing: fiancé!namjoon x oc

genre: smut

word count: 13.0k

summary: namjoon makes your dream come true in a much better way than you ever wanted.

pinterest board: divine | playlist: time | taglist: join

warnings: basic relationship fears, oc is heartbroken in the beginning, fight, minor violence, oc has daddy issues (like the writer), namjoon and oc smoke (like the writer as well <3), family sickness, punishment, spanking, choking, hair pulling, a mention of throat fucking and squirting, namjoon has an obsession with oc's boobies, dirty talk, use of a blindfold during intercourse, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms, raw sex, namjoon talks her through it, praise kink

note: i will cherish this work until the day i die. i will carry it in my heart and never, ever forget it. this might be my best piece and i don't think i'll ever write anything as good as this. i love namjoon with all my heart and i want to thank him for inspiring me to write this. if he weren't such an amazing person, such a dear person to me and if he never released cbtm, this work wouldn't be here and i wouldn't brim with so many warm emotions. i gotta tell you guys—while writing the smut, this was the first time i wasn't affected by it in a way that i normally am because i found so much beauty in their relationship. enjoy this, my loves. let me know what you think. i love you. <3

The orange light in the hotel room causes bile to rise in your throat. It exudes a zephyr of mockery, such profound air of scorn, and you feel it thumping upon its reflection on the bare skin of your arms. You want to pinch it—make it hurt somehow, cause it the same agony that’s poisoning your system through and through because in all truth, that’s all you’re left to do.

The Eiffel tower out beyond your window, blanketed in a soft layer of snow, has begun to twinkle. The perception of how long you’ve waited for your fiancé to come back that even such a monumental structure, your dream, has descended to its sleep full of blinding light beckons gooseflesh to mar your skin and it doesn’t go away. Not when your sight blurs, unfocuses, and the stars that have latched themselves to the tower enlarge into bulbs with softened edges, a myriad of bokeh that seem to have a slither of pity for you, lessening their grandness as the falling snow thickens. Not when both of your waterlines become rivulets of tears that heat your cold cheeks, despite the burning bushes of fury that incinerate your lungs.

Just one more hour and the twigs of flames will perforate the chambers of your heart and sweep it clean of any emotions, any feelings, any understanding for the man that took you to Paris and left you all alone in the hotel room he paid for. You thought he took you here to give you the experience of seeing something new as you’ve never been to Europe and you’ve shared with him on several occasions that it’s always been your dream to see the Eiffel tower. Especially at night when it glimmers with such pretty, pretty stars. But considering he brought you here under the pretense of doing business, you carry nothing but contempt for the strange iron structure. So much for dreaming, so much for putting trust in a man.

There will always be the other woman. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the form of a female, of alcohol, of ignorance. In this case, the mistress is Namjoon’s company and you should’ve known you’ll have her haunting your back for the rest of the trajectory of your secret relationship with him, with Mr. President.

You should’ve seen it coming the moment she created a realm for you to soften, privately, in and fall in love with him until your ears turned red, the petals of roses. A realm between an ordinary employee and her boss. Between the walls of unknowing people—the way he would lean in to hear you talk because in comparison to his large stature and broad proportions, made even more prominent by his short hair, you were a mere stone on the ground, an ametrine—split in half with a tendril of yellow—but a stone regardless, fearing the tip of his lacquered dress shoes stomping on you until you’re left crumbled in the dying grass, the jagged pieces of you consoled by the ruthless wind.

You were terribly afraid of him. Briefly, but ardently. A true personification of desire, whenever you had to look up into his eyes. Whenever a whiff of his oriental cologne tickled your nostrils. Whenever the allure of secrecy between you two heightened. All because he was a powerful man, on the cusp of saving you from the lowest of the dirt. Saving you and digging you back inside, left to your own decay.

Left to. That’s the wisp of tendency in your relationship. The wisp of force that drove you to give your yes to him. The wisp of the engagement ring encased around the fourth finger on your left hand. Left to—because you’d been single for so long and your mother pined after grandchildren and Namjoon was there, a knight in shining armor, dressed in suit and tie underneath, at the very age and position to settle down. Left to—because the special attention he gave you grazed your fear of him, gently, and helped it blossom into a bush of hyacinths growing in your lungs.

It’s how you found out you were in a severe destitute of a fatherly figure in your life.

Because Namjoon paid your bills. Put food on your mother’s table. In the form of a generous paycheck, overtime pay—even though you always clocked out at five, and odd bonuses that rose in monetary value the more he spent time with you. You’ve told him to stop, asked for fairness among his employees, even though nobody liked you there and would do quite the opposite if they ever happened to be in your shoes. But Namjoon never agreed to your offer. No, he stroked your hair and told you to save that money for your mother. And because you never heard that come out of man’s mouth, you nodded, meekly. Listened. The fear of him stroking the violet petals of hyacinths in you because as of now, he owned you. Owned your life. Owned the comfort of your mother.

All because you made the faux pas and took off your heels when you thought your presentation was done and nobody answered when you asked if anyone had any questions left. Except for that one employee who didn’t have, evidently, a sense of decency and suddenly remembered he had a groundbreaking question to ask you in regards to the matter of your presentation, when everyone else, including Namjoon, was gathering their possessions and rising to their feet.

He had noticed your nylon-clad feet, your swollen little toes, the way you rolled the ball of your foot on the carpet to alleviate yourself of the pain. And he changed the decades-old policy of dress code the next day. Forbade all women to wear high heels. Flat shoes only—loafers, ballet shoes. Incorporated bonuses that appeared in their bank accounts that very day, demanding an instant payment.

He paid for every woman’s shoes in his company, including you.

You never had to go through the torment of wearing heels again, no matter how pretty they seemed to you.

And then it was easy—languid and smooth, the innocent eye contact from across the room, the constant attention, the brushing of hands when walking past each other. And then you ran into him everywhere. He was always alone, which caused you to suspect he was single, so you smiled a little more and found it the easiest thing in the world, conversing with him about everything and nothing. Put a lot more care into the clothes you wore and the daily choice of your perfumes. Not forcing yourself and not being in control of it at the same time, something in the very middle. Something so natural that allowed you to turn your brain off for a moment and let yourself be led by your instincts.

Then, your mother got sick and you lost your smile. Spent all your free time with her, taking care of her and you never ran into Namjoon again.

Which is why he began to call you into his office behind the pretense that he needs something from you. And perhaps he did. He needed to be a friend for you. And you needed it just the same.

He helped you cope with the gravity of a burden regarding a sickly parent and you became his.

And you gave more of yourself to him with every fleeting touch, every secret invitation to his office in broad daylight when he had meetings to attend to but wanted to get to know you instead, get to know your dreams because he has the money and the power to make them come true. Tenderly, despite the potency, the violence of his instrument. And tenderly, he always treated you. Tenderly, he held you steady as you made it a regular thing between you and him to sit on his lap. Not straddling him, but sideways—like a little girl sitting on the lap of her father. Tenderly, he led you through new parts of your life with poetic advice and viewpoints, meeting you outside of work, intertwining his fingers with yours and reassuring you. And tenderly, he became the stable male figure you invariably needed and never knew you did.

And tenderness is what you need right now. In this shadowed hotel room, with only your arms to wrap around your torso and a ring on your left fourth finger, a ghost of his presence, ever so lingering, but not quite here. And you clutch at your dress, scrape your fingernails along the side of your ribs, etching the words that he said to your slowly awakening form in the late afternoon before he left.

“I won’t be long. I just have some business to attend to. I’ll be back in an hour.”

It has been more than an hour and you wonder if he’s going to miss the twinkling of the tower. It’s your first night here. You had dinner after you landed, napped, didn’t even walk around the poetry-woven city and Namjoon chose his work. You showered for him, wore the long black dress you saved up the little of your last two paychecks for and he’s not here to see it.

You feel so betrayed. He found work in your spare time, the time saved only for you both, the time that should’ve been saved for the romance part of your relationship. All he knows is work and so do you—as the entirety of your hours spent together have been solely work-related. This vacation should have been anything but.

You sigh, hand ready at the zipper at the back of your dress. Once he comes home, he’ll be tired. Too tired to take a walk and immerse himself in the European beauty, so you should save this dress for a better occasion, one which he’s present for. Whenever that is. If that ever comes, at all.

The squeak of the zipper going down is interrupted when you hear the lock make a sing-song melody, a signal that someone is coming in. Your breath quivers. A twist of events you didn’t expect, but you don’t get your hopes up. You know your fiancé well enough not to expect him to be full of life and elation after a work meeting. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but you let it slide past every time, aware that if he didn’t work so hard, your mother wouldn’t have the comfort she has. And neither would you.

That doesn’t mean you’ll let it slide past this time. Not when he reserved his special time for you, for you both.

Namjoon emerges out of the soft-toned yellow hall with a hand behind his back. You rise from the bed, facing him. Notice his sagged, broad shoulders, the sweat that lines his forehead and the narrow thin line that his lips are pursed in. A petulant, gray aura swathes him, despite the vibrancy of the colors of the hotel room and when he comes in, it’s almost like he absorbs them. His brows quirk at the sight of you, nearly relieved to see you dressed and waiting for him, but that expression falters once he takes in the mirror of you. The same wrinkle on your forehead stamps itself onto his and the sag of his coat-clad shoulders deepens. He stops at the edge of the bed, in front of you. Remains silent. And when you give him a few more seconds to speak and he doesn’t, your fists clench at your sides, against the linen puffiness of your dress.

“An hour, huh?”

He sighs and lowers his gaze. But not onto the ground. No, he lowers it onto your dress, swallowing dryly at the accentuation of your waist and the bunched up fabric at the hips cascading down, clothing you in the prosaic night of Paris, not the poetic, not the lively. He missed it.

“You look so beautiful in this dress,” Namjoon comments and you scoff. If that’s his way of apologizing for leaving you for almost four hours, you don’t really understand it. It merely adds fuel to the flames of the indignation underneath that fucking dress.

“Do you know what time it is?” you bite, your fingers instinctively grabbing onto the fabric of your garment for some kind of stability as your blood boils. Abruptly, his eyes flick to the window and when you follow his gaze, you discover the tower dressed similarly as you. Shrouded, entirely, in the night, clouds drifting past in place of the twinkles. Your blood is scorching hot and even though you didn’t expect him to take you to it, your stomach still drops at the disappointment that you missed the thing you looked forward to for weeks, knowing it won’t be the same tomorrow or the day after that. Your eyes prick with tears and you hate them. Don’t want to cry. Don’t want to be a spoiled brat, in fact. Not when you grew up the way you did—dreamless, poor and independent. But you can’t stop the words from rushing out. “I can see you wearing that watch that costs more than the house I grew up in and I know your habit of checking the time often, so tell me. Why didn’t you text me? Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Why did you bring me here in the first place if you knew you had business?”

Mouth ends rounding ever so slightly, at last he shows what he’s been hiding behind his back. A bouquet of fresh, violet chrysanthemums and baby’s breath of the same muted tones. A symbol of thoughtfulness and care. The oxymoron makes you seethe and you grit your teeth.

“I ran around the city trying to find one flower shop that was still open. I bought the first flowers that reminded me of you.” He pushes them your way, trying to get you to take them and you do, the wrapper rustling as your hands touch and electricity zaps you. Damn it. “Purple, your favorite color.”

The audacity this man has, walking over that one word of apology, avoiding it. He takes your anger to another level and the fact that it seems to be endless makes you even angrier. Enough to want to hit him with the flowers.

And you do.

The flowers hover in the air in slow motion before their petals scatter around his troubled shoulders and the ruffled bed, where you sat so restlessly. Namjoon raises his arms in defense and you don’t stop, not until he grabs your arms and stills you.

He calls you by your name, his hold on you deathly, and he shakes you, just once, in effort to bring some sense into you. “Calm down.”

The stems from the chrysanthemums lay crooked on the floor between your bare feet and his black dress shoes. Ruined, devastated. Just like your dream. Some snapped in half, never to be whole again. Just like your heart.

“You think some flowers are gonna bring my dream back, huh?” you snap, raising your voice, quivering in his grasp. You push at his chest, trying to get out of his clutches, but to no avail. You remain firm and unmoving in his hold. He doesn’t even budge. And once again you feel like a stone—an amethyst this time. Bigger, stronger, yet it still pales in comparison to the mountain that Namjoon is. You give very little fuck about that, however. “You knew it was my dream to see the Eiffel Tower at night. You brought me here knowing that, so I’m asking you once again why. Why did you bring me here when you knew you weren’t gonna make that dream come true for me?”

He sucks in a breath and it looks as though he’s hanging by the edge of his composure. A thick vein bulges on his forehead and he clenches his jaw, his mouth a small button on his face. Anger. A mirror of you. But it’s not directed towards you—not at all.

Namjoon withdraws and steps away, taking off his coat and his jacket, slinging his outerwear onto the edge of the bed. And as you simmer in the middle of the tense silence, he casually rolls his sleeves upwards, focusing his gaze, momentarily, on the action before he bores it into yours. The other sleeve gets the same treatment meanwhile he keeps the boiling temperature of your fury at a fixed degree with that stare. You want to boil over and so does he, but he doesn’t let that happen.

The tiniest wisp of lust curls in your bloodstream, steamed by the heat, creating something dangerous. Oh, he’s playing with fire and he shouldn’t.

All forest fires end catastrophically. The ruined flowers are enough proof of that, and yet it’s just the beginning.

Namjoon loosens his tie a little bit, tipping his chin, and you can’t help but to ogle the slender material, his long fingers as they hook over the knot and pull it down. They way he’s asserting his dominance—the way he’s making you wait, making you tremble all fucking over by the silence and the slowness of his motions, by his stance and the clenched jaw. You hate the way it’s working; hate, with all your crumbling, stony being the pressure of your craving to get on your knees.

Your tremor causes your fallen strap to tickle your arm and it snaps you out of the indecent daze, head swiveling to it, hand fixing it right away. You tug your dress down so it doesn’t slip down again, your plunging sweetheart neckline exposing your full breasts.

“Why don’t you ask me what the business was about?” Namjoon challenges and it causes your head to swivel back to him, facing him. He’s sunk his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants, anticipation and tension hanging heavily in the stuffed air.

You raise your brows. Fuck if you care about it. “Do I look like I give a fuck? I don’t wanna hear it.”

Namjoon drops his gaze onto the ground, the clench of his jaw tightening enough that a dimple appears on the side of his cheek. For some reason you can’t really explain it aches and you don’t want to look at him anymore. You edge around him, the soles of your feet stepping on the violet petals and when you’re side by side, he stops you with one hand.

“You’re gonna want to hear this,” he murmurs, his hold on you softening once your movement is halted.

You roll your eyes, untangling your arm from it. “Too bad I don’t.”

Namjoon sighs, deeply. “I’m telling you this one last time. You’re gonna sit on this fucking bed like the nice girl I know you are and you’re gonna listen to me.”

A pulse sneaks to your sensitive parts and you furrow your brows, not liking the words he chose, not liking the way they made you feel. A half of you is torn, though. A half of you forces your body to do as he says, liking it very much. Too fucking much. “You don’t get to talk to me like this. It’s unfair.”

“Sit.”

That half of you wins. That easily.

You sit on the bed and cross your leg over the knee, obnoxiously dangling your shin back and forth. The hem of your dress flutters, gains momentum when Namjoon opens the balcony door, letting the winter air in. Then, he moves over to stand a foot away from you, the stems crunching beneath his feet, his hand fishing out his pack of cigarettes and pulling one out, popping it into his mouth. Yellow, almost brownish butt. Golden Marlboros. Typical.

Your own parts in dismay. “You’re gonna set the fire alarm off.”

“You’re gonna get rained on, then. Look pretty in that soaking dress with the petals and all.” He lights up his addiction and the flow of your fire changes its course. Burns differently now. Burns lustfully. “You think I didn’t tell them to turn it off when we arrived? You were too sleepy. Barely knew where we were.”

Flying while drifting through dreamland does that to you. Why it is a surprise to you that Mr. President made such a demand is beyond you. What’s more, it annoys you. His power, his influence. While it once sparked fear, you’re glad it’s lukewarm to you now.

Sucking deeply, he puffs out the smoke, its tendrils curling around his eyes that he narrows to protect them from the sting. Your fingers, instinctively, play with your engagement ring. You’ve always loved the way he smoked. Especially in his office. Especially the way it never smelled. His attention to detail, his thoughtfulness perpetually mesmerized you. You wonder where it’s gone at the cusp of the realization of your dream.

“I fought tooth and nail to get a deal. To make a connection. For you.”

You scowl at him, pull your wandering fingers away from your engagement ring. What the fuck does he mean by that?

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. For your mother.”

You grip the edge of the mattress at the mention of your mother, left behind on her sick bed while you’re fussy about your mindless dream. A jolt of guilt runs down your body and your scowl smoothens. You don’t think the madness disappears from your eyes. Not entirely.

“I risked having some very powerful people knowing about us because I wanted you to have a stable place here. There’s a five star hotel that has shares in Korea. I wanted to become their partner. Get you in there. Get you another source of income. Get you a house here. For your mother. For our children. Have you commute here whenever you’d like,” Namjoon breathes out, moving his busy hand with each word, the smoke clouding the air. He takes a drag, holding the cigarette. “Come to think of it, you’d get to see this.” He points behind himself at the Eiffel Tower with his thumb. “For a week straight if you’d like. Splurge on dresses, shoes and croissants and whatnot. Have not one care in the world. You make the call and we fly.”

From Korea to Paris. Whenever you’d like. Namjoon is the CEO of a five star hotel he built with his own hands. You’re the marketing manager, but you oversee almost everything you find time for. From banquets to room beddings, only because you enjoy it. It’s the main reason why you’re so disliked. You’re favored. And if there’s conflict of interest, there’s only one person who wins in the eyes and the final say of the CEO.

Namjoon’s hidden thoughtfulness opens in the shadows of the room and you’re stupefied.

He wanted to partner with another five star hotel in Paris.

For you. For your mother. For your future. For your comfort.

For your dream.

For your children.

Your mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

How would you possibly handle having your job times two? You already have enough on your plate. Have wished, multiple times, that there was more of you cloned, who could do each job that you have to do each day. Doing that twice would be difficult, agonizingly so, but knowing your own work ethic, you’d make it manageable. You’d make do. Not for yourself, per say—but for your mother and your future children.

Your heart constricts. Constricts so tightly that you let out a pained breath, overcome by his plan for the future, by the actions he’s willing to do for it. By the very raw fact that he spent three hours trying to make that happen—make that come true for you.

“Namjoon, I—”

“They said no, though. No matter how hard I pushed, no matter what I was willing to risk, to sacrifice. They said no. So I made a quick phone call and forbade them from ever entering our hotel.”

Our hotel.

You almost sob, touched by him, but a gust of the icy breath of winter seizes you and you visibly shudder. Namjoon takes a last drag of his addiction and, putting it out on the ashtray on the confined balcony, he closes its door. But the freshness grazes you still, grazes you with the allure of this too-good-to-be-true fantasy and while it feels nice momentarily—the futile, brand new dream—you settle on the contentment that it will never come true.

And that’s okay. You were brought up having nothing. Having someone like Namjoon intertwined with your future doesn’t change it. You don’t need to have everything. It’s enough that you’re in Paris just for the prolonged weekend, even though you didn’t get to see the sparkling Eiffel Tower up close on your first night here. That was the only dream you ever had and you can die peacefully now. Knowing the reason behind his late arrival, it doesn’t disappoint you anymore that your dream was altered. As a matter of fact, you don’t consider it ruined any longer. Not when Namjoon tried his hardest to create a beautiful future for you and your closest. You regret being mad at him, regret hitting him with the flowers and you brim with the wish to gather them, fix them, and put the little what’s left of them in a vase. Cherish them like he cherishes you. Cherish him.

Namjoon crouches at your feet, cradling your ankle. “Your mom would’ve had a house right next to ours. Our kids would visit her everyday and vice versa. The air would’ve done her good here. The change of scenery. It would’ve prolonged her life. She’d be happy.”

You nod, believing him, your heart untouched by the weakening fire, tender, squeezing. A mist of liquid emotion pools at your eyes. “You spent three hours trying to make that become a reality.”

It’s not a question, but rather an expression of your procession of his goodness. Of his selflessness. And all over again, you’re reminded of the way you grew close in your relation because of your poor mother, of the way you bonded. And in place of the fire, it’s love that blooms those hyacinths in your lungs back to life.

Your mother would’ve loved Paris. Because you know how much she loved listening to you talk about your dream when she was healthy and you were a young schoolgirl, you’re certain she would’ve fallen in love with the stark difference that lines these history-wrought streets.

Namjoon focuses his gaze on your bare foot, fondling his thumbs over your silky skin. Your declaration of his actions loosened the heft on his shoulders and he relaxes, leaning his temple against your knee, fleetingly. When he speaks, he looks up at you. A certain light, covered in pity, flickers in his eyes. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It just took that long and I had no idea. And when I checked the time once it was over, I googled when they turn off the lights. Knew I had some time to spare, so to fix my mistake for taking so long, I ran through these streets, trying to make it up to you. I thought I’d make it in time, but you let out your frustration on me, which is understandable. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to text you. I’m sorry.”

The coolness of the growing flower buds in you fills you with such gentleness that it’s not relief that you feel upon hearing his explanation and apology. It’s love. A profound, sinking capacity of love for the man beneath you taking on the likeness of the stone that certain energies and events of life invariably minimalized you into.

He’s the stone and you’re the mountain.

And when you bolster his face in your hands, Namjoon releases a breath at the touch and you find that relief streaming in him, seeping color back into his cheeks. You’ll paint them redder. Feel obligated to do so.

“I’m sorry for hitting you. You left me alone for so long and I had so many bad thoughts,” you say, internally cringing at your neediness and you would regret uttering your admission had he not rubbed your legs in such a reassuring manner that it revitalizes your body, guiding briskness into your veins.

“I’m sorry that I missed it,” Namjoon says, subduedly, his hands warm like the fire that burned in you, giving you back your heat that you’re lacking. He kisses the top of your knee and your breath is but a vine of poison ivy inside your throat. Such tenderness, such healing gentleness, such pity that permeates your skin. He truly is regretful that he messed up and you want to weep. He doesn’t have to be, not anymore. “What kinda bad thoughts?”

You feel your heart rotate on its axis and you stifle back your tears, taking a deep breath to be able to talk. “I thought you chose work over me. Thought your business had nothing to do with me. Thought you left me here all alone for selfish reasons.”

Namjoon coos, a softened emotion screwing his face—eyes enlarging and a slight pout forming on his face. A leeway for your tears to spurt onto your cheeks, unabashedly, with nothing holding them back any longer. He cups your face, like you did, and he sweeps back that rivulet with his thumb. “I didn’t, baby. I didn’t. And I’m here. I’m here with you.”

You nod and it’s all that you’re left to do because it’s the truth. He’s here. He’s come back. And he’s sorrowful that he let those thoughts plague your brain with such a small mistake.

“Don’t go anywhere again,” you beg, hushedly, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry you worked so hard for nothing.”

It’s the last straw for Namjoon because he straightens his form, guides you to stand up and he sets you down on his lap, pushing your legs onto the bed—holding you as if he were holding a child.

And that’s precisely what you need at the moment.

“It’s not over. Pick a place and we’ll go there. Start over. With you present this time. What are you dreaming of these days?”

Your heart swells. Nothing has been flooding your dreamland as much as Paris was. Even that seemed unrealistic, let alone a much different place. It overcomes you and, peculiarly, stops you from crying. You feel like a spoiled girl getting what she wanted after she had a meltdown and, internally, you blame Namjoon for it. He spoils you. Exudes such overtones of fatherliness that makes a way for it to happen. Most naturally.

“Paris has always been my dream. No other city,” you say and Namjoon clicks his tongue. A smile widens your mouth, liking the way he senses your custom of modesty, liking the way he dislikes it. You laugh, softly, through your nose. “I’ll think of something.”

“That’s my nice girl.”

Taken aback, you clutch the side of his neck. Namjoon is bathed in the orange light and it no longer causes bile to lodge in your esophagus. No, it sparks up something else. Something very rapid, spreading throughout your body. The energy shifts and it’s you who clicks their tongue. “What did I tell you about talking to me like that?”

You move your hand to the middle of his throat, tightening your hold around his Adam’s apple, tipping his chin. Namjoon grins, hums, wraps his fingers around your wrist.

“What did I tell you about choking me, hm?”

A flashback flickers across your vision. One of the last time you were intimate in bed and he was rocking your shit in missionary, using your throat as a leverage. You mirrored him, as you usually do in these endeavors, and choked the air out of him, making him come prematurely. Namjoon scolded you until your ears turned red and refused to make you come. You had to bring yourself over that edge and you managed to squirt your love and your enjoyment of fucking with him all over his body. Namjoon made sure to feed you your elated essence, but he also made it very hard for you to swallow, telling you to hold it as he drilled your throat, making it trickle down the corners of your mouth.

The memory effortlessly brings back the pulse in your sensitive parts and you begin to crave the repetition of that filthy rendezvous. Badly.

And so you squeeze his throat.

Namjoon squeaks your name. You laugh, ferally.

That is until he pins you down. Hand on your throat this time, the other holding down both of your wrist, the petals sticking to the silk of his pants-clad knees on either side of you. You didn’t even catch the movement as he did it, his strength overbearing and so incomparable to yours. But you don’t feel like the amethyst. No, you feel like a mountain connected to another, to him. Two peaks staring at each other, grinning, your laughter unfaltering, even though it’s you who’s squeaking now.

Elated, giddy, aroused, equal, your tears sunk deeply within your skin, giving life to your rhapsody, giving it the body it needs in order to come out.

You love it when he’s like this. And you love that he’s come back to you.

Of course you have the means to prolong it, to tease it out of him.

“I don’t really care when it turns me on this much,” you rasp, your smile glinting in the dimmed light, arching your back until your chest kisses his. Just once. “When it turns you on this much.”

Truth, the epitome of pleasure. The corners of your mouth widen, all over again.

You can’t help it.

Namjoon cocks a brow, his mouth ends following the same directions, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. “Oh, so you don’t need to be reminded?” He mimics your intonation, angling his head.

You shake yours, eyes dipping to his clefts, teeth instinctively finding your bottom lip, biting down. You feel the heaviness of his stare and it urges you to bite down harder, the tension quickening your blood circulation. And it isn’t until you meet his adoring gaze that it stops, for a mere second, scattering tingles down every vein. And Namjoon resumes the flow by pressing a chaste kiss down onto your lips, lingering there.

“I know you’re a nice girl and that you didn’t mean it, but I have to spank you for it, anyway. Do you understand?” He whispers against those pillows, each movement of his mouth brushing against yours, making you needy for more.

You make a face. “But I did mean it. Meant it with everything in me.”

Namjoon laughs, endearingly. “No, you didn’t, baby. Not when you know what I’m capable of doing to you. Or not doing to you.”

You smirk, catching onto his game. He’ll disagree until you grow so frustrated that you burst, disobeying him to the point that he has to tame you. He wants to get you to the lowest point, because the lower you dig, the bigger treasure you find—the more you stimulate the brain, the chemistry, the bigger the pleasure. Namjoon is an intelligent man; knows what the fuck he’s doing and you’re so transfixed by it that you’ll let yourself be led into his little trap that he watches over. Just to please him because ultimately, you’ll be pleased beyond measure.

You tip your chin and trace his lips with your own. “No, I did, because I love how whiny you get. Makes me wanna bruise my knees for you, take all of you down my throat until it hurts to speak.”

Namjoon is so awestruck by your words that his mouth parts as he gawks down at you and he moans. There it is. That’s precisely what you wanted.

“You know,” he starts, pausing to swallow. “I had different plans with you in terms of this. Good fucking plans. But you just ruined them.”

The precipice of what that could be hangs over your clavicles and suddenly you brim with the need to know what it was. What his smart, business brain came up with. And not only that—you want it to happen, your curiosity piqued, blaming the choice of words he used, the work-tinged colors he splattered them with.

“What plans?”

He straightens, setting your hands free. “Take off your dress.”

You’re taken aback. “Namjoon.” You stress his name. “What plans?”

“No, I’m not telling you. You’re gonna take off this dress and you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You frown. Your curiosity won’t let up. “Namjoon, please.”

The pretty word curls his mouth. Perhaps, you’ve softened his stubbornness. You surely hope so, but to no avail.

He gets on his feet and swivels you onto your stomach, fingers finding your zipper and dragging it down. Being manhandled like this causes butterflies to swarm not just in your tummy, but over your arms and legs as well, fluttering all over, making your head spin and again, you can’t help the smile blossoming. In the middle of winter, spring opens in you at the touch of his dominance.

Spreading his hands over your back, sinking his warmth beneath the skin, he leans in, mouth at your ear. “What word do you use when you say please?”

You know what he wants you to say, but, peculiarly, you’re in such a good mood that you crave to disobey. Just for the fun of it. Just for the pain of it.

“Pretty please?” you chirp, pursing your lips to hide the slyness of your smile. Delighted, excited.

Namjoon pulls your hair, causing your head to tip, harshly, pain shooting up your scalp. Your tongue runs over your bottom lip, moaning almost soundlessly, only to realize that he can see you. Your pleasure wasn’t private. Not at all. Never is when he’s involved.

You flick your eyes up at him, meeting his darkened stare, and you flutter your lashes at him, playing the stupid girl when you’re well educated by him in reality.

Maybe you do need to be reminded, after all. Again, for the fun of it. For the pain of it.

To distract him from his failure. Help him forget. You know how it gets to him. Deem he deserves it; deem it’s a duty of your fiancée privileges.

“Pretty please is an addition. Something to help me have a sliver of pity for you. You seem to have forgotten who I am to you.”

Oh, he’s a myriad of things.

Mountain. Stability. Dependability. A most grand picture of beauty. Of intelligence. The sun and the moon, his brain cells the planets in the universe. The second heart you’ve grown over the trajectory of your relationship. The pulse of your emotions, especially the one between your legs.

He’s everything in your life while you remain your own person.

And only Namjoon would have achieved something like that.

“No, I haven’t. You’re my husband,” you say, allure dripping in your tone, wiggling your hips, causing the fabric of your dress to ripple over your bum.

Namjoon coos, quite pleased with the title, and he pats your behind before he grabs you by your waist and pulls you to your feet—flush against his body and the rock solid situation in his pants. You sway your hips, the gasp that slips out of your mouth goes almost unnoticed by you as you’re entirely focused on his hardness. You look down to follow the movement of his hands like a cat. They drift upwards—from your ribs, over the swell of your breasts until his long fingers reach the straps of your dress and drag them down, exposing you, exposing your arousal evident on your stiffened nipples. You could blame the cool temperature hanging in the room for it, but both of you know that would be a lie. A fat lie that your husband doesn’t deserve, not when he’s so dominant, so strict and so fucking provocative, spreading tendrils of heated life in you with each subtle touch.

Subtle? Oh, Namjoon gropes your tits, rolling your nubs between his slender fingers, softly moaning behind you. And then he pinches them, coaxing your squeaks out and you feel that familiar, wet warmth pooling in your core, mingling with the throbbing sensation that intoxicates you. Enough for you to clasp your hands over his and tighten his hold, squirming against him, loving—loving terribly the sparks of pleasure coursing down your figure. Loving the feeling of dampness against your panties that’s nothing but evidence of the way your body savors his special attention.

“Husband, that’s right. Your fucking husband,” Namjoon murmurs, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, causing your head to knock back against his chest and make space for him, inviting him to continue—and he does. Places tiny little kisses down to your shoulder, where he licks the skin before he sucks it into his mouth. “But there’s something else you call me when I treat you this good. What is it? Think.”

Those kisses and his command for the wheels in your mind to quicken alone make you give in, make you submit to his craving to call you by that filthy, rightful title. Even more so when he pinches your nipples again. You whine, feeling your neediness for more taking greater highs in your system, feeling your own body yearning to scream out that name.

“Daddy,” you cry out, desperately, awfully. How well it fits him, how well he deserves to be called by something like that—how gratified you sense your body to be right now. No poetic string of verses could ever manage to do it justice.

Namjoon hums, his pleasure deepening. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. I love it when you use that brain of yours.”

You blush. A tableau unseen by Namjoon yet, for he busies himself with undressing you. Your garment gets plopped onto the mattress, your underwear along with it. A silky strip that hardly covers anything. You’re bare while he remains fully dressed and something about that turns you wild. The silkiness of his slacks, the cotton of his white shirt against your skin—such softness, such balminess, such caress for the undomesticated freedom that you profoundly feel within. You sigh at the sensation, your lingering curiosity bubbling in you, slowly rising to the tip of your tongue.

“Will you tell me now? What you planned?”

Namjoon chuckles, humorlessly. “You think you’ve earned it? No, baby.” He runs his hand down your ribs and your tummy, halting at your mound. His middle finger can nearly reach your swollenness and you quiver in response. “You’ve got spanks to take first. Maybe then I’ll tell you.”

You whine, softly, and Namjoon grabs your chin and turns your head so you can look at him. A mad, mad smile adorns his shadowed, taut face and you realize there’s pent-up frustration still swirling in him. One you will do anything to help him steam off.

Anything.

Anything for your husband.

And so, by your own whim, you lay down onto the bed, anticipating the pleasure of pain. Namjoon lets out a sound of approval and you sense the vibrations of his nearness as he props a knee on the bedding, flattening down a violet petal. He fixes your position, lifts your bum in the air, and he kisses your bare cheek with all the world’s affection, sucking the skin, nibbling on it before smoothing the pain with a swipe of his tongue.

“You’re my nice girl, aren’t you?” Namjoon questions and you nod, but that’s not good enough of an answer for him. He spanks you, harshly, coaxing a hiss out of you before the pleasure draws in and you let out a breath, turning your head, so you can have a perfect view of him. Namjoon gives you another chance to fix your mistake. “Aren’t you?”

Licking your lips, you make it your focal point to be good for him. “I’m your nice girl.”

Humming, he caresses your back to praise you. Spanks you with the same tenderness, rubbing the flesh to alleviate the faint sting. The love you carry for him grows with each brush of his calloused hand and you stifle back your needy sounds, your little whines and sobs of a small girl very seldom loved by an even smaller number of male figures in her life.

Most strangely, it heightens the experience.

“You’re my wife, aren’t you?” Namjoon purrs, his fingers sneaking to the place that yearns for him more than anywhere else, finding you bedewed, dripping as he rubs your folds—just touching you there without giving you any friction.

The touch is so nice that you can’t help but mewl most happily.

“Yes, I’m your wife, Daddy.”

Namjoon moans, the pads of his fingers sneaking over to your clit and stroking it. You arch your back, your noises rising in volume—the wetness, the pleasure in tandem. Your body begins to shudder in reaction, mimicking his motions, the pressure coiling in the lowest of your tummy.

“Good, good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re my good little wife, but you were bad, weren’t you? You were a bad little wife?”

He quickens his speed, testing your focus and your mind spins again as the pressure deepens. From his words, from the very gravity of the title ‘wife’, from the very pleasure stemming from the principle of being bad, and you stutter a few times before you’re able to get out the full sentence in a perfect flow.

“I was your bad little wife.”

Namjoon growls, liking it just the same. “And what did you do?”

He slows down, stalling your climax, keeping you halfway from the edge, right where he wants—the pressure of his touch light and gentle. Letting you work your brain.

You smile up at him, from the clouds of shadows and petals you’re surrounded by. Namjoon deepens the eye contact, returning the smile. Your heart thuds in your chest.

“I choked you.”

Clefts of dimples—you, yourself, choke out a breath. Another one, too, when Namjoon spanks you hard, his fingers wet and sticky on your skin, the pain tingling all over your body, beckoning out more of your slick for him.

“That’s right, you choked me, even though I punished you for it quite severely the last time,” he rasps and spanks you again, again and again. You hiss and flatten your lips to stifle it back, grasping the bed sheets to overcome that burn—and overcome your craving for more.

You’re at a crossroad. You find yourself wanting to be bad in order to get spanked again, but at the same time you want to be good, so he tells you what he planned for you. Your fucked out brain can’t decide which side is better, but when Namjoon spanks you again—he reminds you that it doesn’t matter at all. You’re getting punished either way while the goal is to tell you.

Such a good, intelligent husband. And you tell him.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” you whisper, your knuckles white as you’re grasping the sheets with all your might. “I’m sorry for being bad. I’m sorry for choking you, but I love it when you spank me.”

Namjoon chuckles, warmly, spanking your clit once in affection, drawing out your squeaks.

Truth, the epitome of pleasure. All over again.

Close to your ear now, he kisses your cheek, his body heat enveloping you in an embrace. “My naughty little wifey loves it when Daddy punishes her. Loves to do the bad things Daddy doesn’t like just so he spanks her. That’s it, isn’t it?”

You moan out, puckering your lips against the sheets and Namjoon half-kisses your pout, humming against you. He lifts you up onto your knees with your torso upright and he cradles your face. Waits for your answer.

You’re more than happy to douse yourself in that truth.

“Yeah, I love it. I love being bad for you.”

He descends one hand to your bum while the other wraps around your waist and pulls you flush to the hardness of his body. And as he expresses to you how much he liked your words with guttural moans, he spanks you. Again and again, your head tipped back, eyes wandering in the darkened maze of his, where you lose count of how many you’ve taken.

“But you do realize that’s a big no-no, don’t you?”

You nod. “I do, Daddy.”

A hum. “Will you do it again?”

You whisk your irises up, thinking about it while already knowing the answer in your heart. “Probably.”

Namjoon laughs and kisses you, feverishly. Moves his mouth against yours, parts it, so he can slip his tongue inside. Plays a game of chase while both of your noises and his interlock and create a music that echoes around the hotel room. He adds a high-pitched tone into the song, yours, as he spanks you again, playfully this time, grabbing the flesh of your bum with both of his hands now, kneading it, drawing it closer until you feel his aroused length against your tummy.

Moans, squeaks, skin slapping and lip smacking. A song of beauty that will resonate within your body, mind and soul for days to come.

And another thing.

“God, I love you so much,” Namjoon whispers, bringing his hands to your ribs until his thumbs brush across your nipples.

That, too, will ring in your veins.

You melt. Become nothing but liquid devotion in his hands. And as he begins to focus on your neck, you roll your eyes back and resound your love back to him.

“I love you, Namjoon.”

He sighs against your collarbone, mutedly. “You love me?”

You sink your fingers into his short hair, kissing his temple. “I love you so fucking much.”

When he emerges with puffy, reddened lips, you can see it on his face that he did it again. Made you say the words he wanted to hear. And so you say it again, again and again. Each time with more intensity, with more verve, embedding it into his lips, his cheeks, jawline, his chin and his neck. All skin you can reach until you stumble upon the cotton of his shirt, at which you frown.

“Take this off. Now.”

And he listens. Loosens his tie, places it upon the petals on the bedding. Begins to unbutton his shirt. All while staring you down. And all you can do is watch him in awe, licking your lips, hungry for him, hungry for the intelligent plan he’s keeping from you.

Once he bends at the waist to get his arms out of the sleeves, you press on the matter.

“Tell me,” you say, softly, despite the tension of your curiosity. “Tell me what you planned.”

Namjoon tilts his head and light flickers across his eyes, fires of stars—the ones that twinkled on the Eiffel Tower before his arrival. You spent your entire life dreaming about seeing it when it stands right in front of you, half naked. Has been standing before your eyes for years.

Your mouth parts at the tenderness of it all and emotion bubbles within you.

Sizzles, ferociously, when Namjoon reveals his secret.

“Speeding down the road to this hotel, I saw it before my eyes. What I was going to do to you,” he starts, unbuckling his belt and sliding it off the loops. Your heart thumps, violently, against your ribcage, longing to jump onto his big palms. He pauses his motions to concentrate on his words. “I was going to apologize. Tell you what happened. And then I was going to make it up to you. Undress you, keep only the shoes on you were going to wear.” He looks over to the side, where your black YSL heels have been waiting for hours to be worn. Before he even asks if those were the ones, you nod your head and Namjoon fetches them and puts them on your feet. “I was going to have these digging into my back while I ate you out. While I would transfer us to the park before the Eiffel Tower with my words.” Securing the straps, he straightens, knees on either side of yours, and grabs his tie, smoothing it out with his thumbs. “I was going to blindfold you. Make you imagine you were there with me. No one else but us. On a blanket. Describe to you in great detail what we were doing as I’d be balls deep in you. Here but there at the same time.”

Your throat dries as you take in his words and there’s only a few words you’re capable of saying. Your eyes flick to the tie, then back up to his dark chocolate irises, wet with a glint of deep arousal, one that you feel pulsing in you just as well. You hook your arms on his hips and nod at the slender fabric in his grasp.

A man of the world’s intelligence. How attractive, how alluring. Your shadowed cloud swathes you tighter and you spill with the need to be fucked. Fucked with that smartness. That capability. All wrapped around that big cock of his.

You need it. Won’t live if he doesn’t ruin you with it.

“Do it,” you choke out, swallowing with great difficulty. “Please.”

Fingers curling around his belt loops, it doesn’t go unnoticed the way his manhood twitches in the tight confines of his slacks and the sound you let out at the sight would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so endeared by it, caressing your face with his thumb, lifting it so you pay attention to what he wants to say to you.

“Are you comfortable with me blindfolding you? We’ve never done that before.”

Even though your trust wavered merely an hour ago, it happened so it would get strengthened at this very moment. You don’t detect any no’s echoing within you, any worries or fears, anything that would cause you to stand in the way of this endeavor unfolding. It excites you, the newness, the principle of placing not just your trust, but your control, your senses and your safety in his hands. Allowing him to proceed with his would solely mean that you deepen what you already practice in your sex life, take it to another level. And these things are of great importance to Namjoon. He never disappointed you—never failed, never missed.

He takes care of you. Through and through. From the beginning to the end. Until you close your eyes, only to take it from the top the following morning.

Your trust in terms of that could never waver. It’s impossible. It’s so strong, so held steadily that it would never come across your mind, even.

And so you give him your consent.

“Yes, I am. I’m excited to do this. I want this.”

Namjoon strokes your hair, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “All right, my love, but remember that we can stop anytime. I’ll take it off as soon as you say the word. Tell me you understand.”

And along with your consent, you give him a big smile. “I understand, baby.”

He kisses you, stealing a thousand tiny kisses more in the same lip lock. “That’s a good girl. So smart. Are you thirsty?”

You fold your hands on your lap and nod your head. The tie slung over his broad shoulder, Namjoon walks over to the mini bar, fishes out a bottle of ice cold water and opens it for you, tipping it to your mouth, encouraging you to drink.

The coldness streaming down your stomach only enlivens your arousal and it seems as though the matter is naked to the eye as Namjoon bites his lip at the sight of you, screwing the bottle shut and placing it on the bedside table. You tug at the tie, your eyes crinkling as your smile simply can’t leave your mouth alone and Namjoon hums out a laugh at your excitement.

“Ready?”

Your whole figure is fluttering, of course you’re ready—and you tell him. “Born ready.”

It prolongs his expression of lighthearted endearment. “Good. Remember to stop me when it gets too much. Close your eyes.” Obeying, the softness of the silk grazes, fondly, your eyelids as pitch-blackness encompasses you. Namjoon ties the thick wisp at the back of your head, careful not to intermingle any strands of your hair into the knot, attentive enough not to pull it too tight and not too loose either, causing you to ache for him so badly that you almost want to scream. “How does it feel?”

Uncanny. You hear his voice and, peculiarly, it’s louder in your ears, although he’s speaking in the same volume as he was before he blindfolded you. You sense something missing from you—and it’s a feeling that you detect in the pit of your stomach and at the ends of your abruptly numb fingertips.

You clench those digits, but the sensation remains. It is only when you raise them and bump into the sturdiness of his chest that you perceive what it truly is.

Groundedness is what you’re missing.

The softness of his skin brings back a sense of realness back to you. When you drift your palms up to his shoulders and hold onto them, you feel real; you feel like a person that has limbs, that has someone right there with them to look out for them because aloneness is what comes with the darkness of the sight and that is absolutely terrifying.

You cling to his neck, causing him to stumble into you, and you sigh in relief at the feeling of his weight. He goes to lift himself up, but you stop him—tightening your headlock, pressing the side of your face against his, eating that realness as you trace your lips against his cheek, run your hand across the back of his head.

He’s here with you and he’s not going anywhere. With that stability, you can walk further in this rendezvous because you’re not alone at all, despite the fact it’s what your eyesight is telling you.

“It feels really strange. I need you close. I need to feel you. To know I’m not by myself,” you whisper, sensing your chest to become lighter once the truth is out. Your naivety and excitement didn’t expect this to happen, but you’re comfortable with trying this out and feel where it takes you.

“Do you want to stop?” Namjoon asks and you can identify where he roots that question on your body. Right there upon your left collarbone, where his breath seems warmer than ever before and where he begins to scatter tiny kisses.

That thrills you—the identification of where he is, the loudness of his voice, the depth of his touch and the unusually scorching body heat he radiates as all of your other senses are heightened and you want more of it. You crave to know what it would feel like to have his tongue on your sensitive parts like this. What it would feel like to have him drilling you.

That alone makes you shiver with something beyond excitement. With something feral and undomesticated, again.

Another thing for him to tame.

Your body sings to him. To the stars. To the tower. And Namjoon can hear it, incorporating his tongue into his not so chaste kisses in response.

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want you to keep going,” you say at last, caressing the wholeness of his back, reveling in the discovery of his muscles, his shoulder blades. It feels so new, so different. You quake all over.

Namjoon pulls himself upwards, nudges his nose against yours and you smile. “Okay, baby. I’m right here.” He kisses both of your eyelids, the right one first before the left one. You feel at one with your heart as it palpitates; feel as though you were inside your body. “Fuck, your eyelashes are so long that I can see them curled around the tie. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You blush, the heat of your cheeks akin to a blanket pulled to your nose. Such coziness. You hum and try to find his lips, but he’s out of reach. You crane your neck until it hurts, giving up with a huff.

“God, don’t do that to me. That was so cute,” Namjoon husks and moans when you pull him down and kiss him at last.

It’s at this moment that you thank the God that he mentioned for writing into the Book of Life that Namjoon was to be late and miss your dream because this kiss does more than make up for it. This kiss creates new dreams that begin to swirl within you. Dreams of the Mediterranean sea, the sand and sun rays so hot that they bronze your skin. Dreams of sultry nights, black dresses and flats for all the roads you shall walk upon while following the starlight, hand in hand with Namjoon dressed in linen of the same color.

Dreams of Asia, but not where you first opened your eyes in as a newborn. The western side of Asia, the one you’ve never seen and never dreamed of until now.

Your heart enlarges and you overspill with so many emotions that they trickle out of your hidden tear ducts. Newness, possibilities—for both you and Namjoon, but mainly for him. For his happiness.

He calls your name, fearfully, but you shake your head. “What’s wrong?”

You feel his fingers sneaking over to the knot of the tie, but you stop him. “I know where we’re going next time.”

His breath of relief becomes the new cloud you rest upon. “You scared me. Don’t cry, baby.”

You fondle his wrist. “Namjoon, we’re going to Turkey.”

Silence. Then, a kiss. “Is that where you want to go?”

A nod. That’s where your soul will escape to once you lay down to sleep. “That’s the place I’m dreaming of.”

A kiss on your neck. A hum. “Then, that’s where we’ll go.” A stripe of his tongue down to your collarbones—you feel your slick drip down onto the bedding. “Do you remember where we are right now?”

An inhale of breath. “Paris.”

Namjoon sucks the supple skin above your nipple. “That’s right. We’re at the park in front of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of summer. You’re sat on my lap like this.” He manhandles you to the position he describes and you gasp, not expecting it. “My back is facing it while you have a perfect view of the twinkling lights. Can you see them?” If your memory serves you well, he’s painting a picture of reality as well and you’re so touched by it that another, secret tear rolls down your cheek.

“Yes, they’re shining so brightly. They’re so pretty, too. You’re making my dream come true. Thank you.”

Wetness against your sternum. Namjoon must be crying as well and the realization makes you sob. Makes you find his lips again and kiss him.

“I love you,” Namjoon croaks out and you break, holding onto him so tightly that you clench all of your muscles.

“I love you, Namjoon.”

A final kiss before the continuation of his depiction of the dream.

“Nobody is around. They’ve all gone to sleep. It’s just us, the Tower and the moon. You’re so beautiful, so lost in the pleasure as I’m kissing you like this.” He shows you by resuming leaving kisses along your breasts. “And when I do this—” He licks over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. You whimper, flexing your eyelids at the sensation swarming in your core. “You make pretty sounds just like that, but I tell you to be quiet. We don’t wanna wake up those people and ruin the fun. And you’re so good that you listen, taking the pleasure so well.”

He sets you down onto the bed, moves down to your tummy, placing the rest of his kisses there.

“Then, I lay you down on the blanket. You’re naked for my eyes only and I spread your legs.” His hands follow his words, lifting your thighs and pinning them down. “I blow on your needy little pussy and you shiver so beautifully for me. I can see you shining for me, shining brighter than the lights and I give it to you.”

There you feel it. The lick of his tongue on your clit and you shudder, moan so loudly that it reverberates down your body, the pleasure unlike any other you ever had the grace to experience. You roll your body into his mouth and Namjoon moans in tandem with you, even more so when your heel digs into his shoulder blade like he dreamed of.

“I lick your clit in circles and I feel you come alive on my tongue, so I pick up the pace.”

You chase the movement as he does, reveling in it to the point that you curl your body, rising yourself to your elbows and grasping the nape of his neck, knocking your head back once he prods a finger into your heat.

“I need more of it. I need to feel you around my fingers, so I stretch you out.”

He adds another digit, fucking you diligently, and you whine out his name, squeezing his neck, your thumb pressing the spot above his Adam’s apple.

“But my baby is doing something she knows is making my cock needy for her. She’s choking me, making me so fucking hard for her, so I pin her hands down.”

He rips your hand from his neck and pushes it down onto the bedding, holding it in place with his forearm as he rounds an arm around your tummy, fingers spreading your folds apart from this angle, leaning his weight on it, freeing up space for his other hand to fuck you harder.

You plop down onto the bedding, unable to resist him. And with your submission comes your orgasm, the rope uncoiling right at the place where the pulse on his wrist thumps.

And your dreams explode across the blackness of your vision.

“And you come like this. On my tongue. Around my fingers and I go fucking crazy for you, lick up everything you gave me. So fucking crazy that I turn you around and take you like this.”

You’re glad for the way he worded this part because you don’t jump when he does swivel you and licks over the red marks over your bum. He prepared you. The coolness of the petals on your skin causes you to whimper and you move your hand in effort to grab one of them. Namjoon settles between the sides of your thighs and when he sees what you’ve found, he chuckles, taking it from you, turning you halfway and brushing it against your cheek.

You gasp, liking the heightened softness, and you purr. Seeing your reaction, Namjoon drifts it down your neck, your collarbone until he reaches the peak of your breast. And when he circles that stiffened nub—an endeavor just between you, outside of the dream—your whimpers have so much tension and opulent seductiveness to them that you feel his bare manhood twitch against the line of your bum.

It drives you to thrash your hand until you find him, too, and you wrap your hand around his thick manhood, pumping him as he stimulates your nipple like this, your position—halfway on your side, with your leg crossed, propped on the bedding, brings friction to your clit as your body moves where the pleasure wants it.

Namjoon breathes hard, groaning gutturally, and you could almost come like this.

“Fuck, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whine and it causes Namjoon to turn you fully onto your back and take that petal down to your wet clit. “Oh, my God.”

Faint, yet so nice. You tremble, feeling the petal drifting over your folds, your lips, gathering your slick over your heat. And when Namjoon rubs circles on your clit with it, the membrane of the petal so fucking slippery now that it’s coated with your wetness, his title falls from your lips like the rain that keeps those flowers alive out there in Paris.

“Keep fucking me with your wrist,” Namjoon rasps and you moan, loving to be ordered around, loving being told what to do.

You fix your mistake of neglecting him while lost in the new delight, concentrating on his equally wet tip as you tighten your hold, pumping him swiftly, his foreskin closing around him in tandem with your movement coaxing his growls out that envelop you in firelight, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt.

Even gripping him you perceive to be different and as that firelight flickers vastly across the night you see, splattering it with makeshift stars that Namjoon calls to creation with each of his deep sounds, your orgasm comes as an explosion that brings color to his art.

Purples, yellows, reds and pinks. Stars that brim with colors. Such paintwork of beauty that Namjoon strums to life on your clit and your scream gets muffled by the sheets as he turns you back onto your tummy without withdrawing his hand.

He begins to kiss your shoulder, knowing you need a minute before he can fill you up.

“My pretty girl, my wife,” he moans against your skin, marking you there. “I’m gonna fuck you with that petal on your clit. With the rest of them clinging to your beautiful body like that. Gonna fuck you nice and hard against them.” You whimper your vulgarities, so out of it—so intoxicated by the picture, looking forward to it. “You came so well on my fingers. With the petal. Fuck, I’m gonna ruin you just for that. And for the way you made me forget where we were.”

You laugh and your stomach flips, love hormones coursing in your veins like the strongest drug. And you laugh even harder when it dawns on you that you’ve also forgotten.

“I don’t remember either,” you sputter between your giggles, contagious as Namjoon laughs as well, brushing your hair back to one side to kiss your cheek.

“How are you feeling? Has it gotten too much, hm?”

He takes the time to check up on you, instead of picking up where he left off and, fuck, you dissolve, becoming one with the petals—no edges to you, only liquid affection.

You’ve gotten used to the darkness. No traces of fear or uneasiness can be found trickling in your system—as a matter of fact, you can’t wait to be fucked, can’t wait to find out how it’ll feel once he’s inside you. The way he’s talking to you, constantly touching you and making it known to you that he’s present with you doesn’t let the previous disturbing feeling to sidle up to you and you’re terribly, terribly grateful.

“I feel great. I want you inside me, baby. I’m ready.”

Namjoon growls, biting into the skin of your shoulder until you whimper, kissing the pain away. Rubs his petal-clad fingers on your clit, prolonging your noises. The pleasure begins to build up, the colors you’ve seen stacking back on top of each other and you sigh, nuzzling your face into the sheets, most comfortable.

He cradles your jaw, though. Makes you look forward. Augments the dream, resuming.

“You’re looking at the Tower and I’m holding you like this so your neck doesn’t cramp up. I’m inside you, just like you wanted.”

Namjoon merges the reality into the retelling, creating something more expanse than this world can bear and you’re awestruck. He sinks himself into your wonder, knees on either side of you as you lay flat on your tummy, your bum lifted a little, heels dangling off of the bed.

Your eyes flutter beneath the tie as his girth stretches you and the colors you see are adjacent to the picture he paints. They blossom into shapes, swirly edges that grow into flowers and cling to the Tower like the violet petals cling to your body. Namjoon pulls out and gives you a long stroke and more flowers bloom, hanging by the lights. You lose your breath, the vibrancy of the pleasure so heavenly that you lose track of time, day and space as well, floating in that dream that the reality you thought about ripped away from you once he bottoms out.

You can’t even hear yourself. Can only hear him as your senses wrap around him.

“I’m not choking you. I’m not giving you a taste of your own delicious poison; I’m just holding you like this, helping you see your dream alive in front of your eyes. I look at you and I can’t help it. You’re illuminated by those lights, yet shining brighter. Kissed by the moon so much that I get jealous. Can you see that fucker up above?”

As if he drew the planet with his finger, it appears in your vision as soon as he pulls out again and fills you in all entirety in one swift, but hard motion. And it’s now that you hear yourself scream as your clit rubs against his fingers flat against it with that collision.

“Fuck, Namjoon, I—I can’t take it. It’s too good.”

“I didn’t ask you if you could take it. I asked you something else,” he husks, moving his mouth against your neck. You feel your eyes rolling back underneath your closed eyelids and you moan, his hips picking up the speed. “You can take it and you will. Tell me, baby. Can you imagine that moon in your vision?”

It’s right there, beaming at you, but you can’t focus, not when you can feel his cock in your throat. He huffs against you, overcome just the same, resuming his circles on your clit and you’re dead.

“You’re so deep, Daddy,” you utter in one breath. “So good, fuck.”

Soaked flowers. Stars flickering more quicker. White dots joining in, along with hot flashes. You’re face to face with your orgasm.

“Focus, baby,” Namjoon scolds, voice straining nearing you closer, falling in step with you the more you clench your walls against him.

“Can’t. Gonna come.”

“Come, then,” he encourages, drilling you harder into the mattress, your clit yet again rubbing against his flat fingers. “Let go and give it to me like the nice girl you are. Come for me, baby.”

Fireworks shoot through that picture and you cling to it as you come around him. Namjoon praises you through it all, darkening those flowers that surround it and your orgasm convulses through you, lasting as long as the flying colors bursting through the night-tinged sky. And white gushes in as he loses himself in your climax, his own triggered and he stuffs you with it, fucking you through it until the bed makes such terrible sounds that he stills, letting you milk it out of him.

Panting, Namjoon swivels you halfway around while still buried inside you. “I’m gonna take off the blindfold now. Keep your eyes closed, baby.”

You listen and he flings it off, kissing you, ravagedly, whimpering into your mouth. Exhaustion seeps so deeply inside you that you can barely reciprocate the energy of the movement of his mouth and with one last peck, he lets you breathe.

When you open your eyes, it’s not the light that stings your pupils, but the exhilarated, flushed and content sight of Namjoon, his chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You blink a few times to get used to the beauty, touching him all over, spreading your love for him everywhere you can.

“That was so perfect,” you whisper, sleepily. “Thank you. Thank you for making my dream come true. For making it better than I ever dreamed of. I love you, Joonie.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles—with bruised, puffy, reddened lips that make you weak.

“I love you.”

You lay like this for quite some time, stroking each other’s skin, enjoying the rest and the silence. Namjoon takes off your heels then, massaging your feet as if they were in pain and you smile down at him, fondly.

“Like hell, I’d let you wear these to the park.”

You laugh through your nose, your love for him blooming, and he carries you in the shower.

You join him on the balcony later, sharing a cigarette with him, wearing matching, thick and warm hotel bathrobes to protect you from winter’s cold. You look up at the moon as you take a drag and send your thank you to God for the contended joy that clothes your heart. Namjoon pulls you in, kissing the top of your head.

“So, Turkey next time?” he asks, inhaling your vanilla scent from your body wash that you brought along.

You sigh and life overflows from you. “In the summer. No business, just vacation. Just us. And if business does find you there, it’ll find me, too. It’ll be different this time.”

Namjoon presses his mouth against your forehead, sinks his words there. “I’d marry you right now if I could.”

Tears prick at your waterline, your throat aching. “If I pray hard enough, she’ll get better by spring,” you say, voice wobbling, speaking of your poor mother. You couldn’t get married without her—it’s the sole reason why your wedding is left in the hands of fate.

“We’ll bring her to Turkey, then. I’ll make sure to tell her to pack her hanbok and I’ll marry you there. What do you say?”

Rivulets of tears stream down your face and you look up at him, catching the same liquid lining his eyes. You nod, your mouth rounding in a pout.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Namjoon gives you the last kiss of the night, sealing that plan shut and you believe, with everything in you, that he will bring it into reality.

You trust him.

Forever.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

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#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x oc #namjoon x you #btscreatorscorner #bts smut #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fluff #kpop smut #knj x reader #knj #kim namjoon #namjoon

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phyrestartr · 6 months ago

Text

Icarus Drabbles (Pt.3) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3k #NSFW, Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, blowies are received and given, mentions of character death

tags: @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @tr4nniez

Done Deal

“You let me fuck you, and I'll give you anything you want.” That was his proposition. No more flirting, no more attempts to seduce you, just his obsessive pining resulting in a deal.

But you didn't seem too bothered sitting across the desk from none other than Ryoumen Sukuna, who lounged comfortably, puffing on a cigar like he didn't just offer to pay you for sex. Granted, it wasn't just the sex he wanted. It was more than that.

You took a moment before speaking. “I thought you were the kind of guy who'd take without asking.”

“Who, me? Come on, sweetheart, I'm a gentleman.” Sukuna grinned and watched you wave the coils of smoke out of your face.

You looked him over, not betraying your thoughts. “And if I refuse?”

Sukuna's smile simmered down, unamused with the mere concept of rejection. “I'll still get what I want. And you'll leave here penniless.” His men locked the doors loudly at the other end of the vast office, making their point. “So? What’ll it be?”

You took a slow breath. “I want a condo. In Tokyo.”

“That's it?”

“Paid in full.”

“Now you’re talkin'.”

You stood from your chair and walked around the desk as you unzipped your jacket. “And my name's going on title.”

Sukuna undressed you with his eyes like the millions of times he'd done so prior. “Ho? You wanna be the one to pay all the taxes, huh?” He turned his chair to you as you approached. Sukuna spread his legs wider to make room for you to stand between, but you instead boldly straddled his lap. He knew he liked you for a reason.

“I can forward them to you.”

“You think I'll pay them?” One of his broad palms groped at your ass. His stomach coiled with excitement; he was going to enjoy ripping you apart.

“I know you will,” you hummed. Sweetly, you tilted Sukuna's chin up to get a good look at his handsome face.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“‘N why's that?” Sukuna whispered.

“Because you want to.” Your hands slipped down his neck, down to his shoulders. “Because you think I'll come back for more.”

“I know you'll come back for more.”

“If you live long enough,” you sighed before plucking the cigar from his fingers and snuffing it out. “These things'll kill you, you know.”

Sukuna fucked you on his desk moments after. His men stayed in the room all the while, watching and shifting with unease or simmering urges of his own. He vaguely recalled taking a phone call, too.

So how the hell did we end up here? He had to wonder; back then, he bribed you for your affection, paid you handsomely but purposefully left you wanting more and more and more. He wanted to provide for you, in a weird, twisted way, and that was his method since, well, he wasn't ever sure he'd really get you to stay.

Yet there he was, waking up in a house with his husband next to him and his daughter in the crib beside you. It felt so…bizarrely natural. Normal. Almost like he met a need he didn't even know he had.

He hardly spent his nights at his casino, Malevolent Shrine, any longer. He didn't wander the floors looking for liars and easy targets for his dealers. He didn't head up to his penthouse at the crack of dawn with a new dame on his arm every night; he wanted to come here, to the home he had built to house his new family. Sukuna wanted to collapse into this bed, hear you bitch and moan about Gojo or Geto or whatever idiot employed you that day, spend time with his little pup and listen to her yip and babble about nothing and everything. He wanted these moments. He wanted to cherish the little sparks of light in his life before the universe snuffed them out like–

Gramps is dead, Yuuji had said, voice quivering on the other end of the line. What do we do?

Sukuna closed his eyes and rubbed his face, willing away the memory. He hadn't had to act like a big brother in so long, but the instinct came rushing back to him the second he heard his little brother in tears. It was all handled swiftly, everything from the cremation, to probate, to settling the estate–but the weight of death and finality clung to the air like petrichor after a storm.

Sukuna looked to your sleeping face for respite. It helped to see you, to be reminded that you'd chosen to stay with him through thick and thin. Still, he couldn't help but remember what his grandfather asked him the day he met Touka.

Where does this end, kid?

This. The gang life. The life that's too unrefined and brutal to be considered yakuza. Because Sukuna didn't deal in honour. He dealt in violence, drugs and money–that voice spoke louder than honour and family.

But didn't he reclaim his family? Didn't he honour you with change?

Where does this end, kid?

Maybe with honour and family.

“I can feel you having a crisis,” your scratchy voice mumbled through the static in Sukuna's mind. Your eyes opened a crack to find his own crimson set before you wriggled up to him and half-laid on his chest. “What's wrong?”

“Your bony-ass chin’s digging into my tit.”

“Mmmh.”

“You like money more, or me?” He asked.

You snorted. “I like you and your money equally.” You let your head loll to the side to press your cheek against his chest. “But I like you more, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I'm kidding, idiot. If I cared about money, I would've married into the Zenin family.” You sat up and looked down at your partner with bleary eyes. “Where's this coming from anyway?”

Sukuna huffed and scowled at the ceiling. “Nowhere. It's nothing. Forget it.”

“Don't be a little bitch. Just tell me.” And when he didn't budge, you added, “Suku. Come on.” And when he still refused to cooperate, you resorted to, “Alpha, please?”

His eyes snapped to you so fucking fast it made his face burst into flames. You grinned, so stupidly enthralled and in love with how the gross, domestic pet name fucked him up and--fucking hell, it was so cute but so annoying.

“Fuck you.”

“N'awe, you're such a cutie sometimes.” You purred in delight and nuzzled all over his face. “My cute, sweet, broody alpha that I love so, so, so much.”

“Shut up,” he snarled before viciously nuzzling back and attacking you with puppy nips and rude licks to your face. “Fucking omega. You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“So are you. That's why we work well together, right?” You held his face still and planted a proper kiss on his lips. “We'll be fine. No matter what happens.”

Your alpha took a deep breath while he looked up at you, and sighed. You looked so calm and collected about the whole thing, so relaxed in the jaws of a shark that could eat you whole and leave nothing behind. Guess that was why he was so enamored with you. Only petty things, like the shitty little fish that nipped at toes, wore you down. Not the big, bad, unknown depths of the ocean.

“You believe me?” You asked as you pinched his nose.

Sukuna grimaced and tugged your hand away from his nose. “Fuckin’–yeah, I believe you.” He bit your fingers in revenge.

It was your turn to make a face. “Disgusting.”

“You wuv id,” Sukuna managed around your digits, grinning like an idiot.

“I have bad taste in men.” You yanked your fingers free when you heard your little one coo and shuffle in her crib. Sukuna always found himself impressed with how fast your omega responded to the littlest of noises, always automatically cooing and trilling back to your baby like you'd done it your whole life.

“But you sure you're alright?” You asked as you scooped up the little one.

Sukuna sat up and leaned back against the headboard as you settled down beside him again. “‘M fine. Just…thinking.”

“About your grandfather?”

“Guess so.”

You nodded and leaned into him, chest purring with comfortable vibrato as his heavy arm looped around you and pulled you close.

“He was a good man. Lived a good life. Long one, too.”

“Guess you’re not wrong. Don’t seem too torn up about it,” Sukuna grumbled, vaguely aware he was on the precipice of starting an early-morning argument.

“People die,” you said, looking down at your babe. “He was old as fuck. I’d talked to him about life and death a thousand times anyway. His point of view on things helped me see things differently.”

“Oh?” Sukuna’s attention snapped down to your little one as her cherry-red eyes sleepily blinked open. “‘N what the hell did the old fart tell you, huh?”

You smiled as Touka screeched happily, reaching up for her father and wiggling around in your lap until she could slug her way over to him (with much help from your guiding hands, of course). Sukuna, the fraidy cat that he was, awkwardly tried to aid his baby girl with crawling onto his lap, too. You kind of understood why–his hand was about as big as her body. He was probably afraid of smooshing her.

“He told me energy can never be destroyed. It can only change shape and form. It’s the same with our souls.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Sukuna grumbled as his daughter determinedly tried to stand to reach his face. You moved to help her stand, but he huffed and took over, uttering a grumpy ‘I got it’ as he carefully, carefully held her up onto her feet like one would a kitten.

You smiled, so horribly smitten. “It means our bodies die, but our spirits can’t. They just change form before coming back and living life all over again.”

“Hmph. Sounds stupid as–” Sukuna paused as a tiny hand landed on his mouth.

“Bah!” Touka chirped.

You pursed your lips and melted into your partner, a happy, summer scent pooling around the three of you.

“Mhm, daddy’s a cranky little bitch, huh, baby?”

“Big bitch,” Sukuna corrected, words muffled by the tiny overlord. He opened his mouth wide, lightly chomping on her pudgy little hand with the gentlest pibble nibbles he could manage. Judging by her squealing laughter, he was doing an okay job.

“Cranky big bitch–my bad.” You rolled your eyes and exhaled deeply. “But yeah, that’s basically it. Mentioned some stuff about soulmates–platonic or romantic or otherwise–tending to find each other in their next lives too. So, technically, you could be holding your grandfather reincarnated right now–”

“Babe, don’t make this fucking weird,” Your husband groaned.

You laughed, loud and brash, before nuzzling him. “Sorry, sorry. Can’t help myself.”

Sukuna scoffed, furrowed brow only easing as Touka assaulted him with little pats all over his face.

“You’re a nightmare.” He leaned in and nuzzled his baby’s round cheeks with playful growls. “You’re a smaller fucking nightmare. Spitting image of your mum. How the fuck is that fair, huh?”

“Well, you better get used to it,” you taunted. “She’s the only one you’re getting.”

Wait. What?

Devour

It’d been a while since Sukuna had handled an interrogation. He’d stepped away from doing it himself when you’d both gotten back together officially, thinking you’d be upset if you found out he was still beating the fuck out of rats and cheats wandering through his casino–but the opposite turned out to be true.

You didn’t really care. You didn’t mind it at all, actually. You only requested he kept that sort of business away from the curious gaze of the little girl you both doted on incessantly.

So, he took it to the basement of Malevolent Shrine.

“Y'know, I really needed this,” Sukuna sighed, loosening his tie a bit more before he leaned against the table of lethal instruments and wiped the blood from his split knuckles. “Kid keeps me up all night. Wife's always bitching ‘bout being tired. ‘N then I got dipshits like you sneaking in, trying to access restricted floors.”

The man he regarded scoffed, probably unable to catch his breath to clap back or, well, breathe. The sight had Sukuna grinning, pure delight and satisfaction coiling in his chest.

“Got somethin’ to say?”

The man coughed and tried to pull himself up from where he lay splayed on the floor. Sukuna never tied up his guests, no no, he always gave them a fair, fighting chance, stating they could go free if they could get past him. None ever did.

“Y-you do this to that omega you stole?” The stranger managed as soon as he got on his knees. “Lock ‘im in a room, make them fight their way out?”

Sukuna quirked a brow and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Only omega I've had in here is the wife.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You stole one that was sold to my benefactor.”

The mob boss sighed and scratched the back of his head. “That's what you're here for? An omega that I never had?” Sukuna pushed off the table. “Well, that makes shit boring. You're here on a delusion.”

“It's not–”

“Then who do you work for?”

As expected, the idiot clammed up. Sukuna tutted. Why did all these bastards have to play hard to get?

Ah, but then he had an epiphany--hadn't you mentioned marrying into the Zenin family? You brought it up not too long ago, back when Sukuna first started spiraling about life and death, about where his world of chaos would take him in the end.

If I cared about money, I would've married into the Zenin family.

Right. That's what you said.

“Zenin Naoya,” Sukuna guessed. The heir was a rampant misogynistic piece of shit, wanting nothing to do with women on any level--but you? A man who could bear children, albeit through difficult means? That'd be invaluable to someone like Naoya. He could have his cake and eat it too.

And by the way the crook's body tensed, Sukuna figured he hit the nail on the head.

“No shit. That little freak’s really outdoing himself this time.” Sukuna laughed wildly, enthralled that he managed to piss off the Zenin heir by taking his bitch and knocking him up. God, the damage this would do to Naoya's ego.

“I'll let ya in on a little secret,” Sukuna sang, turning to the table and grabbing a set of pliers. “I wifed up that omega. Knocked him up already. Hopin’ he'll let up on the ‘one pup only’ policy. He's been real fuckin’ strict on the birth control, lemme tell ya.”

“He won't forgive this,” the crook bit out. “He won't just–”

Thwack. Sukuna cracked him upside the head and knelt on his chest, jamming the tool into his mouth and breaking a few teeth on the way in.

“Fucker can try,” Sukuna murmured, voice growing thick with malice. His ruby eyes gleamed with predatory promise. “Killing him's at the top of my bucket list.”

–

You were definitely possessed.

How could you not be? You'd just seen your baby daddy (your very cut, handsome, snarky baby daddy) beat the shit out of one of your tormentor's grunts

“Babe,” Sukuna moaned as you swallowed him down your throat again. You'd taken him hostage in the elevator the second he was done his deeds downstairs. It proved to be…somewhat problematic as people continued to open the doors, but eventually Sukuna hit the emergency stop button, nearly shattering the console.

You hummed around him, pressing your tongue against thick, pulsing veins and squeezing at his base and sacks intermittently while your head bobbed to the beat of whatever tinny jazz played in the elevator. You kind of liked the tune. It sparked the idea of playing music next time Sukuna bedded you–

Bedded you. Ah. That seemed like a good next step.

You pulled back with a disgusting pop and fought to catch your breath between leaving wet kisses and hickeys along his stiff length. Your hand worked him firm and fast, eager to get him to fall apart under your feverish, hypnotic touch.

And he was close. You could tell by the way his hand held the back of your head, fingernails digging into your scalp every time you did something so, so right and so, so unbelievably good for the big bad mob boss you'd tricked into staying faithful to you. You figured you'd reward him for being such a good boy. It's what he deserved for sacrificing his freedom for you, and, quite frankly, you thought you'd been slacking on the praise.

“Gonna cum?” You hummed, looking up at your partner through wet lashes. “Hm?”

Sukuna groaned. His fangs bit into his lip as he stared down at you, pupils blown wide, eclipsing the red of his iris.

You smiled politely. “Mmh. I'll take that as a yes.” You kissed along his skin until reaching his weeping tip and giving it a gentle peck. “Where do you want it? On my face? In my mouth? Down my throat?”

He bucked forward, jamming his tip between your lips and hissing when he felt the scratch of teeth against him. You sighed like he was such a nuisance, and opened up wide again, whining as he gripped your hair up into a messy, shitty ponytail before fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck–” His body shuddered and he slammed inside one more time, squeezing his thick knot into your strained mouth and locking it behind your teeth as he rutted against your face, spilling down your throat.

Your soft gags and chokes only made it better. He pulled your head closer, pressing your cute nose against the hazy line of his happy trail in a dizzy attempt to ground himself through the aftershocks of such a sudden turn of events. Going from beating the shit out of a sniveling sod to this was–

Your frantic smacking against his arm signaled your tap out. Sukuna cursed under his breath and worked in tandem with you to wiggle free the stiff problem stuffing your mouth and throat full.

You gasped for breath. Drool and tears poured down your face as you coughed and swallowed whatever didn't have the chance to slip out of your aching mouth, and you wiped your mouth half-heartedly with the back of your hand. Sukuna hadn't seen a sight like that in a long, long while. Something so reminiscent of the early days of being bribed and paid for your services.

“Christ,” Sukuna breathed as he brushed your hair out of your pretty face. “How much do I owe ya for that, huh?”

You laughed between coughs before kissing his clothed thigh. “Just don't think I've appreciated you enough lately, you know?” You cleaned him up best you could before tucking your man away and standing to loop your arms around his shoulders.

Sukuna caught your scent then; you smelled sweeter than usual. Warmer, too. Fuller. Something that reminded him of dough in the oven, billowing all around him and filling his senses with sinful sweetness.

Your heat was on the horizon.

Sukuna smirked and switched the key holding the elevator closed and inoperable on the ground floor, and it started on its journey up, up, up. Time to get you back in bed.

“Not appreciatin’ me enough, huh. Well, I was gonna mention it–”

“Shut up. Don't be stupid right now.”

Sukuna's grin grew. He leaned down, leaving soft kisses and nips along your neck, being sure to pay special attention to the scars he'd left behind.

“You love when I talk shit.”

“You're free to believe that.”

“Oh? Then tell me what you've been appreciating about me, sweetheart. I'm all ears.”

The doors opened to the penthouse floor, and you fought to drag the other out first.

“Your ass,” you replied, nearly exploding inside as Sukuna kicked the (unlocked) door in. Damn, how come he could do that so easily?

“What else?” Sukuna's lips found yours time after time as you both fumbled your way toward the bedroom.

You yelped as he threw you onto the bed. “J-Jesus–how strong you are.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna kicked his dress shoes off and yanked your kicks off, too, before you had a chance to complain about shoes being on in the house. “Tell me more.”

“That's about it.” A sweet laugh bubbled out of you as he slipped in between your legs and kissed you like this was some highschool romcom.

“Oh? Lying now, aren't we?”

“I think I need to examine you a little to remember, you know?”

With all the strength you could muster, you turned the tables and flipped Sukuna onto his back, straddling his waist and running your hands up and down his chest. He still couldn't tell how you did it, but you flicked open every button of his dress shirt with unfathomable finesse before tracing the dips and curves of his defined muscles with teasing fingertips.

“Hmmm…this is nice,” you murmured, taking your time to drink in the scar-riddled expanse of glowing, bronze skin. You scooted back, down his legs, to be able to plant soft kisses around his navel.

Sukuna watched you with blown-out eyes; you were always good at teasing, at making sex electric and better than just cramming his cock into a hole. Secretly, he liked being pushed to the brink of insanity. Soft touches, whispered kisses, silent praise–it was all so your brand.

“What else?” Sukuna rasped as you left cheeky marks around his happy trail.

“Hm. I wonder.” You took your time sidling up on his lap again, your hands taking charge and leading you up, up, up to his cut jawline and striking cheekbones. “This is nice, too.”

Sukuna licked his lips. “Yeah?” He Asked as he held your waist.

“Mhm.” Your thumb stroked against his bottom lip thoughtfully before hooking inside and yanking his mouth open like a fish on a line. “This is a problem, though.”

Your mate's heart thrummed like thunder. Rarely would he ever admit to liking being used, but when it came to you, his precious little trophy, Sukuna found himself far too eager to please. Too eager to consume. Too eager to be consumed. He could only hope you'd wreck him with whatever you wanted to do with that mouth of his.

“Oh?” Sukuna breathed. Christ, his slacks were too fucking tight again. “The fuck you gonna do about it?”

You sighed and shook your head. “God's work, I guess.” And you almost seemed burdened by what you ‘had to do’ as you loosened your waistband and wriggled up until you were straddling his broad chest with your weeping tip pressing against his lips.

Sukuna grinned. “You think I'm gonna–” but he was more prepared for your rude push into his mouth than he let on–or he thought he was, anyway. He'd never really given head before, not really, but he'd given you a couple of handjobs in the past. Still, you were bigger than he remembered. Not as comically, ridiculously, stupidly big as Sukuna’s third leg, but you could probably stuff someone to the point of tears if you really felt the need.

And, well, you were leaving tears in Sukuna's eyes, so theory confirmed.

“You're really bad at this,” you laughed. You held onto the headboard as you pushed into his mouth, letting him get used to it and adjust as a good mate should (maybe Sukuna should've taken notes). Thankfully, the man was a quick learner and a keener. He got used to the feeling of your length nudging against his throat, and posed himself a challenge to push it further.

His hand grabbed at your ass and he pulled you closer, drowning in the sound of your warbled gasp mixing with a surprised yelp. Sukuna's other hand brute-forced his slacks open and fisted around his pulsing hard-on to the rhythm of your greedy thrusts into his mouth, down his tight, inexperienced throat.

Your hips jolted and stuttered. Your hips stayed plastered to his face with weaker and weaker thrusts. Your forehead clunked against the rim of the headboard as your breathing got faster and faster, laced with tiny ah-ah-ah-s until–until–

“Shit–” you tried to pull away from him, tried to save him the grief of having to swallow down a load of cum (first time was always a terrible, terrible experience), but he wouldn't let you yank your hips away; his broad palm pressed against the small of your back and forced you flush against him, his nose pressing against skin as he swallowed and moaned around you like he'd been deepthroating cock his whole career.

Somewhere in the haze of lightning and sparks, you felt him shudder and jolt under you, too. Then, like you'd done not so long ago, a swift tapping on your leg signaling, tap out, tap out!

“Oh–fuck, sorry,” you babbled, hurriedly pulling yourself back and out of his mouth to let him breathe. “You're kind of a natural. I'm shocked.”

Sukuna was too busy coughing and fighting to catch his breath to snap back at you, though, and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Shut it,” he scolded with a swift spank. “Spunk tastes like shit.”

“But you’re not a spitter nor a quitter. You should be proud.” You smiled like the cheeky little shit you were before shimmying off your joggers and tossing them aside. “You did pretty well. Colour me impressed.”

“‘Course I did, who the fuck do you think I am?” He brought his other hand out of his pants and held them up to you, sticky with his own spend. “Deal with this.”

You whistled, and the heat in your face increased tenfold. “I guess you liked it. Good to know,” you said before holding his hand by the wrist and licking up.

“I'd be a freak if I didn't wanna make my bitch cum. ‘Specially when he's in heat ‘n primed to reopen the baby-making factory.”

You looked at him, eyes round and owlish, before abandoning the mess on his hand in favour of kissing him.

“The factory's open,” you assured, no doubt temporarily hypnotized by your body's desire to make your stupid alpha happy.

Sukuna rumbled a purr deep in his chest as he smirked. He'd gladly seize the moment.

“Let’s clock in and get to work, then.”

–

Five is Better Than Three

Sukuna paced back and forth outside the bathroom door, impatient and anxious, waiting for you to just fucking tell me what the hell the deal was.

But Sukuna was anything but a patient man.

“Babe,” he growled, knocking on the door incessantly. “How long does It take to piss on a stick?”

You scoffed. “I'm just--I'm trying to double check, you dumb bitch, shut up.” Your voice quivered the slightest bit, a soft sniffle or two barely making it above the radar.

Sukuna sucked his teeth. He ran his hands through his hair and growled to himself, trying trying trying to stay patient, stay calm, stay–

“Sukuna,” you snapped when the door flung open. You were standing at the counter, an array of different pregnancy tests laid out before you neatly with you lording over them, face hot and eyes shimmering with…grief? Relief? Happiness? Sukuna didn't know, he didn't know.

“Kept me waiting long enough, you fucking brat,” he came up behind you and stared down, clearing your noggin with ease and ignoring your grouchy quips and pinches.

“I was–I just needed a minute, you stupid fuck, I'm--it's a lot!” You tried to push him away but, well, the man was an immovable object, and you were far from an unstoppable force. In the realm of physicality, at least.

“Sukuna–”

“This shit is like hieroglyphics,” he complained, picking up a test and squinting at it. His other hand held your waist to stop you from running away to hide.

“It, uh. It means–well, I still need to get checked out officially but, uh, y'know. It's a yes. For now. Tentatively. All the tests are positive.”

Sukuna exploded with happy puppy scent. He threw down the test and wrapped his arms around you, picking your smaller form up and swinging you around like a shotty romcom man should.

And you laughed through your tears. You hugged him back once he put you down, and exploded into choked laugh-sobs as you pressed your face into his chest. His nice, strong, muscular chest that looked so good in that black tank top.

“Oi, oi, what're the damn waterworks for, huh?” Sukuna asked through a wolfish grin.

“I don't know, okay, just shut up.” You snuffled a few more times before sighing. “Maybe I'm just relieved that an old man like you still has a sperm count.”

“Hah. Big talk from a whore usin’ birth control and making me use a fucking condom ‘just in case.’” He nuzzled at your neck and purred deep in his chest. “Even then, my goods slipped through the cracks, huh? Doubt even getting your tubes tied could stop me from knockin’ your pretty little ass up, sweetheart.”

You bit his tit while he cackled like a madman. “You're fucking gross and I hate you.”

“N'awe. Would creaming on my cock make you feel better?”

“No. Well, maybe later. But coffee and breakfast might subdue me right now.”

#male reader insert #sukuna x you #sukuna x m!reader #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #reader insert #ryoumen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk smut #jjk x male reader #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #itadori sukuna x reader

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artytaeh · 7 months ago

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⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...

┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷

౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡

love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .

... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.

tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.

how to deal with you.

how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.

applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.

some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...

... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.

tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.

you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:

darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.

dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.

doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.

( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )

if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.

between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.

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quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.

then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...

tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."

should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."

sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.

and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.

so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!

the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.

tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!

because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.

he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.

however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.

touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.

brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'

and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.

but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

because tom is such a gentleman with you...

opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'

tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'

offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'

whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.

leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.

→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.

SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.

tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.

oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.

( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )

ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.

( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )

oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!

in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.

in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle headcanons #headcanons #fluff #dark romance #hp fandom #hp fanfic #slytherin boys #slytherin boys react #christian coulson #tom riddle dating

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brittscafe · 8 months ago

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you would do a headcanon for the lieutenants and captains for the kind of hugs they give.

Hiiiii!!! Omg, I actually love this idea <3 I'll do another part with the lieutenants in it <3

Jushiro Ukitake: The calmest, warmest hug to ever exist. He wraps you up in his arms, cradling the back of your head and just comforts you in a way that is out of this world. A hand rubbing up and down the long of your back, his head near your ear, soft, warm breaths hitting your earlobe.

Shunsui Kyoraku: He hugs you in a loving way, but he's a little cheeky and mischievous with it. Strong, muscular arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into his chest. Placing a soft kiss on your forehead as his hand runs down the curve of your back to your ass, squeezing the flesh.

Byakuya Kuchiki: His hugs are like a crispy, chill afternoon. He won't show affection or hug you in the public, but if it’s just the two of you, it's a different story. Arms gently wrapped around your waist, squeezing you every once in a while. His chin resting on top of your head, holding you in such a caring way. It's relaxing and refreshing to have Byakuya holding you.

Kenpachi Zaraki: At first, his hugs at first are like a porcupines needles, but then they are smooth like the back of a whale, so strong and powerful, but yet, calming and not overwhelming. He knows his strength, so he knows how tight to hold you. It's comforting how tight he can hold you and he runs his hand over your head, gripping the back of your neck. He complains when you ask for a hug, but it makes him the happiest man in the world.

Shinji Hirako: He's super greedy with it comes to hugging. He'll squeeze you until you can't breath and are squirming against his body, trying to get out of his tight grip. Seriously though, when he hugs, he can't get enough of you. He'll breathe in your scent and have his arms wrapped around you so damn tight. Shinji will squeeze your flesh and even tickle you and hold you so you can't escape from his tickles.

Toshiro Hitsugaya: His hugs are a little complicated. At first, he'll be cold and shoot you a sharp glare when you ask for a hug. Although, Toshiro cannot resist a hug from you and he caves in. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you, muttering underneath his breath about how he doesn't like this. You laugh because you know that he does like hugging you, but he doesn't like how vulnerable it makes him. He'll place a kiss on your forehead before fully pulling away from the hug.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi: He won't deny you a hug, but he might tease you about it for a little. He laughs like a manic and grabs onto your shoulders, pulling you onto his lap. He's probably stuck in his lab when you ask him for a hug and he refuses to leave his hard work, so he just places you on his lap and multitasks. He'll stroke your hair or rub your back, typing on his keyboard and clicking on the mouse. He enjoys these quiet moments with you.

Kensei Muguruma: His hugs are firm and his big beefy biceps squeeze you 😩 (what i wouldn't do to have my head being squeezed in his bicep...ahem) The smile that grows across his face is huge as he pulls you into his big chest for a hug. He loves hugging you and especially if you're sad or something, he loves cheering you up. You feel so happy and calm in his arms. His hugs are kind and will last forever; Kensei never wants to let go, but knows he has to go back to work.

Soi-Fon: A quick, but consoling hug. I imagine that Soi-Fon doesn't really like hugs, but for you, she'll put up with it, but only for a few seconds. She won't admit it, but for the first few seconds, she indulges in the hug and cherishes it. She'll start patting your back before pulling away, face twisted with uncertainty.

Sajin Komamura: A big, fluffy hug :) You know the kind of hug that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He'll hold you as long as you need, but in reality, Sajin needs this hug more than anything. He loves to cradle you in his arms and breathe in your scent, relaxing his whole body.

#bleach #bleachanime #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #bleach x reader #bleach anime #bleach x you #bleach x y/n #byakuya kuchiki #jushiro ukitake #shunsui kyoraku #zaraki kenpachi #shinji hirako #toshiro hitsugaya #mayuri kurotsuchi #kensei muguruma #soi fon #sajin komamura

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i-cant-sing · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere Royal Gay AU pt 8

Part 7 is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more.

You didn't want to open your eyes.

You had woken up a while ago and realised you were back home when you heard your father's voice. He was singing to you, more humming than actually saying the words but... you recognised the lullaby. It was something he used to hum to you when you were sick or couldn't sleep as a child.

It was incredibly personal, one of the few memories that you cherished with him.

So why did he have to do it in front of Keigo?

It took every fibre in your being to not get up and strangle him while pulling his eyeballs out.

"You have a soothing voice." Keigo whispered from your side, brushing your hair with his hand, while you clawed the sheets from under the covers.

Dabi smiled, feeling perfectly content now that he had his most precious treasures in front of him, safe and sound. "How are you feeling now? Do your wings still hurt?"

"Not as much. Emperor Kai's healers did their magic. I'll be flying again in no time." Keigo sighed as he looked at you. "Its her I'm more worried about, Dabi."

"Why? Kai already healed any minor injuries she had-"

"Physically, yes, she's healed. But what about mentally?"

"What about it?" Dabi pushed, eyes narrowing. Keigo sat up straighter. "Dabi, regardless of what AFO did or that you saved her-" "we saved her, Keigo." "- right. Regardless, she... she will be affected by all of it. That was her mother's homeland, her people, and AFO was her grandfather. You and I both know Y/n isnt one to just- just hate anyone or hold grudges. She'll be crushed by AFO's death, or all those villagers deaths. I mean, you did see how she reacted to Tomura's death-"

"That's enough." Dabi snapped, voice barely containing the rage he felt. "You will never speak of those names again, Keigo. What happened to them, what I did to them- it was a kindness! A mercy compared to the punishment that they deserved and would've gotten if it weren't for Y/n being there."

"But Y/n-"

"We will take care of Y/n. You and me, together will help her forget about those traitorous bastards and everything will return to normal." Dabi closed his eyes, pausing before opening them again. "We are all that she needs, Keigo. Now more than ever."

The blonde smiled softly before moving off the bed and over to Dabi, the latter gently pulling the blonde into his lap, hands cautiously settling on the base of his wings.

"I never doubt you, Dabi." Keigo whispered as he kissed him. "I trust you with my life, and Y/n's." Dabi smiled against his lips. He adored how protective Keigo was over you, and he's the only one who is allowed to be possessive over you.

"I know, love." Dabi murmured, tightening his grip on the blonde's hips when he tried to move. "Where are you going?"

"Gonna make something for Y/n to eat."

"The kitchen staff-"

"-will mess it up,I just know it. Just let me handle this Dabi. I'll be back soon, hm?"

Dabi sighed. "Dont take too long." He watched him leave before turning back towards you, taking your hand in his as he resumed humming the lullaby.

He traced his thumb over your wrists, staring at it absentmindedly as his mind went back to the events of the battlefield, heart swelling up with joy at his victory over AFO and his entire kingdom. His lips quirked up slightly as he recalled the screams of the people burning.

They deserved it.

They deserved it and so much more for what they did to you, for taking away his one and only child and torturing you in god knows what horrendous way they came up with.

Isn't that why you looked so miserable and devastated at the battlefield?

Dabi's eyes flicked to your face, widening when they met your own.

You were awake.

"Y/n!" Dabi squeezed your hand before getting up to sit on your bed. Taking your face in his hands as he looked at you with concern. "I- are you okay? How are you feeling now?"

Hollow eyes stared at him, your mouth remained sealed shut as you looked at him. But just before it creeped Dabi, you blinked and then tears started to fall down your face.

Dabi immediately (but gently) pulled you to his chest, practically sitting you in his lap like a child, arms wrapping themselves around you like a warm cocoon to calm you down as he continued to look down at you with even more worry when great sobs racked your body.

"Y/n? Oh baby- its okay, its okay! You're fine." He pulled your face away from his chest, cradling your face in his hands as his thumbs wiped away the tears from your cheeks. "No one is mad at you. I am not mad at you, more concerned is all. When you went missing, I- I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead and it hurt, Y/n. It hurt me that you died hating your father, and I never want that. I just-" Dabi closes his eyes and sighs before opening them. "I dont blame you for your actions. You ran away because of me, and while that may not have been the wisest decision, I understand and... I forgive you. You were misled by people you trusted, and they paid for their actions. Now, I want us to start anew again. Put everything behind us and become a happy family again. You, me and Keigo, together against the world, hm? How does that sound?" You all but wailed louder at the mention of that whore's name, but Dabi just percieved it as you being overwhelmed and pulled you tighter against his chest.

With one hand rubbing circles in your back while the other was carded in your hair, Dabi kissed your temple, smiling softly as you cried hard into him.

"Its okay. Let it all out, Y/n. I've got you, baby. I've got you."

And I'm never letting go. Ever.

Dabi left once you'd calmed down, saying that he was going to inform Keigo that you were finally awake. You of course, would rather gouge out your eyes than meet that murderer, but that idea was thrown out the window when your nanny knocked on your door, Inko looking visibly surprised to see you awake.

She all but rushed over to hug you, tears falling from her eyes as she pulled away from you suddenly, bowing her head as she apologised for touching you. You smiled sadly before opening up your arms, and Inko hugged you again. She was allowed to drop royal protocol, the woman had practically raised you.

A few minutes later and you heard Keigo and Dabi walking in the hallway. You pulled away from Inko and told her to tell them that you were taking a bath.

"Please! Just tell them you drew me a bath, I- I-" Inko didn't need to be told twice as she ushered you towards the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind her, right in time for Dabi and Keigo to barge in.

"Where is she?! Where's Y/n?" Keigo asked, whipping his around for you, as if you'd be hiding somewhere. Inko bowed, greeting the two men, raising her head only to see Keigo looking at her impatiently and Dabi raising a brow at her.

"Well?"

"The princess is taking a bath, your Majesty. I had recommended it to help heal her wounds better-" She began lying, but Dabi cut her off.

"Let me know when she's ready. Dress her in soft clothes, I want her to be comfortable. You will take care of it, hm?" Dabi ordered, and Inko bowed her head in obedience.

"Of course, your Majesty."

"Come on, Keigo. She'll be back soon. Why don't you continue making her lunch? We'll all eat here." Dabi suggested, his hand on Keigo's back guiding him out of the room.

You sighed as you heard them leave, closing your eyes as it dawned that you had escaped facing Keigo but only momentarily.

Inko entered the bath, smiling apologetically as she knew that you didn't like Keigo.

"I'll draw you a bath, princess. Why don't you wait on the bed, hm?" You nodded, going to sit on your bed just as someone else knocked on the door.

You nodded at Inko and she opened the door to see who it was before harshly whispering at someone to leave.

"Who is it?" You asked, standing up. Inko looked back at you apologetically before pushing the door open and revealing-

"Izuku." You whispered. Your childhood best friend was wearing his Knight armour as he beamed brightly at you.

"Princess." He greeted. "May I come in?" He asked only to be whacked on his head by his mom. "Izuku! She's busy and besides, the Princess needs to rest-"

"Its alright, Inko. He can come in." You nodded, as the woman let out a sigh of relief before going back to drawing you the bath.

Izuku walked towards you and you motioned for him to sit down next to you on the bed. "Its been a while." He started. You hummed. "It has. And I'm sorry."

Izuku gave you a quizzical look. "What for?"

"For how I treated you before I left." You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. "For snapping at you. That was uncalled for-"

Izuku grabbed your hands, his large rough ones engulfing yours. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Y/n." You shook your head. "I want to." You whispered, as your voice turned wobbly. "I don't want to lose- I cant- T-Tomura-" Izuku pulled you into a hug before your tears could fall. He patted your back and hushed you. "Shh, you won't lose me. I promise, I won't go anywhere."

You sat on your bed uncomfortably with Keigo and Dabi in the room. The maids had brought up a small table and chairs with food to your room, since Dabi thought it'd be best to dine here while you rest. You however, can't rest as long as that murderer is in the room.

Sure, Dabi killed your grandfather and killed many of the villagers, but you could see where he was coming from. Your father's reaction was somewhat reasonable since his daughter, his only heir, was kidnapped and he didn't know whether you were being tortured or dead. And you can see it however you want, but deep down you blame Keigo for AFO's death.

You blame him for the villagers deaths.

You blame him for your mother's death.

You blame him for Tomura's death.

"How's your soup?" Dabi asked.

"Its good." You said without looking up from your plate, just like the past 20 minutes. You can't bare to bring yourself to look up at him, unsure if your heart will break more at the sight of him whoring to your dad or if you'll end up raging and kill him on the spot.

"Of course it is. Keigo made it himself for you." Dabi locked eyes with the blonde, who blushed. "Dont you wanna say thank you?"

Here we go again.

There was a audible shift in the energy of the room. The tension could be cut with a knife, as Dabi once again forced you to interact with Keigo.

Keigo leaned towards the king. "Dabi, I don't think that's necessary-"

"Thank you." You said, finally looking up and directly at Keigo, a small courteous smile on your lips. "It tastes delicious. Thank you for going out of your way for me."

Keigo's mouth parted in shock, this was- this was the first time you looked at him with genuine respect- talked to him nicely. Even Dabi was surprised at your change in behaviour, he didn't expect you to actually be grateful, maybe spat out a forced thanks with a grimace but not this, not you actually finishing the bowl of soup.

"I- oh, it's no trouble. I'm glad you liked it." Keigo managed to say, looking at Dabi with confusion, but the king only grinned.

He was glad you were coming around, beyond happy that you were going to turn over a new leaf with him.

It's about time.

Just then, a guard came in, apologising for interrupting but requesting the king's attention for an urgent matter.

Dabi left, promising to return soon with letters from Enji and grandma Rei, and his siblings.

Keigo cleared his throat as the two of you were left alone. "Oh, you finished your soup! I'll give you some more- oh, where are you going?" He asked, watching you peel the covers away and get off the bed. "To the bathroom? Let me help you-" He moved to grab your hand but you snatched it away, before continuing to move to the bathroom.

You didn't close the door behind you, perhaps you wanted him to follow you if you fell or something. But when you got on your knees in front of the toilet bowl and locked eyes with him, Keigo knew he wasn't going to like what he was about to see.

In the next second, you had shoved fingers down your throat and gagged until you induced vomiting, emptying your stomach out.

Keigo rushed towards you, eyes wide in horror as he asked why did you do that. But you didn't answer him. Instead, you called out to Inko (who intentionally pushed Keigo away from you when she saw you on the floor, looking faint and out of breath).

"Princess! Are you alright? Should I get the physician?" You shook your head.

"No, just- just had some disgusting soup that made me sick. Could you- could you do me favour and get rid of it? I swear, just the smell of it in my room is making me lurch again." You commented while looking at Keigo.

Inko only nodded as she helped you back in bed before taking out all the food in your room, but not before asking Keigo to leave.

"My apologies, sir, but I think it'd be best to let the princess rest for now." She said, not sounding sorry at all, practically blocking his view of you as she stood in front of him, eyes staring into him boldly.

Had Keigo not been shocked by your actions, he would've had smacked her across the face for such blatant disrespect.

But Keigo left silently. He needed to process what just happened.

Two more weeks passed by, and you had received many letters from your loved ones and friends. Your father was still far too paranoid or perhaps it was his possessiveness that didn't allow you to have any visitors. The option of you stepping out of the castle was out of the question, even you knew that. But he could've let your grandparents see you, or even your friends who were actually there with him on the battlefield.

At least uncle Shotou was here. He sat by your side on a chair, while you were in your bed, back propped up against the headboard.

"They're all worried about me." You mumbled as you opened another letter. "I feel bad making them worry over me. Don't you think I should meet them to let them know I'm well?"

Shotou nodded. "I agree with you but your father still hasn't budged from his decision. He says that it's just not safe yet for you to meet people, and that you should still rest until you're better."

"But I am better! Any minor injuries that I sustained have healed ages ago." You whined. "Its just- its frustrating being alone in this castle!"

He tilted his head slightly. "You're not alone, Y/n. You have me, your father, the servants, the knights-"

"You know what I mean." You sighed. "Its okay if he doesn't want me too meet anyone else, but can't I at least visit... mum? I can go with him, or you, or even the guards- I just- I just need to see her! It's been too long."

Shotou heaved a sigh. "I had brought it up to Dabi, but... he said no."

You remained quiet for a few moments, looking down at your lap as your brows furrowed.

"He's mad at me." You mumbled.

Shotou's head shot up. "Y/n?"

You nodded, sniffling a little. "He's mad at me. That's why he won't let me meet anyone. That's why he won't let go see mom. He- he thinks it's my fault that I was with AFO." You bit your lip. "And it is. I did run away from him. But only because I was mad at him. I thought that some time away from each other would heal our problems. But... nothing changed. If anything, we're more far apart than we were before. He- he's punishing me. And people are getting hurt because of that- because of me-"

Shotou cut you off by holding your face and turning you to him. "Y/n, this isn't your fault. None of it is. And your dad, he's not mad at you. He's not punishing you. He's just- its just taking him some time to cope with all of this. You have to see where he's coming from, hm? He lost you- he thought you were dead. And now that he got you back, he's just- he doesn't want anything to hurt you, anyone to take you away from him again." He said, which made you cry even more and Shotou pulled your head to his chest, patting your back as your tears wet his garments.

After Shotou left your room, he went upto Dabi's office, hoping to convince him to let you meet Rei and Enji at least. But before he could knock, he overheard Keigo's moans and he immeadiately turned on his heel and left, hands clenching into fists at the thought of that disgusting whore.

He reached his room and sat on his desk, thinking of what to do to help you. Even if Keigo wanst there, Shotou doubts Dabi would've listened to him. So... if he wasn't going to do something, then maybe Shotou could help you?

You are the princess after all, the next heir to the throne. It is his duty to help you in whatever way possible.

Pulling out a sheet of paper, Shotou grabbed his quill and began writing away.

Keigo and Dabi laid in each others arms, Keigo's hand resting on Dabi's bare chest while the latter played with the blonde's hair.

"What's on your mind?" Dabi asked.

Keigo raised his brows and shook his head. "Nothing much."

"You should know better than to lie to your king by now, hm?" Dabi commented before asking again. "Come on, tell me."

Truthfully, Keigo was concerned over his last interaction with you. Why were you so hostile towards him? But earlier, in front of Dabi, you were so nice to him.

Keigo sighed, nuzzling closer to Dabi. "I'm just concerned about Y/n."

Dabi softly smiled. He liked it when Keigo worried over you.

"She'll be fine, Kei. She just needs to adjust to everything. Time heals all wounds." Keigo didn't reply and Dabi could see that he was still thinking about you. When you were gone, Dabi felt like this was the end of the world. He could only imagine the heartbreak Keigo was going through. They both loved you, and now that they had you back, their anxiety didn't go away completely. They still couldn't believe it, that you were still alive and well with them. In fact, the first night after they brought you home, Dabi didn't sleep a wink. No, he kept on checking in on you. Keigo, despite his injuries and heavy medication, was in a similar state.

"Why don't you go and check in on her? It'll put your mind to ease." Dabi offered, sitting up to pour himself some wine. Keigo nodded happily as he pulled away, kissing Dabi's cheek before wrapping a robe around him and scurrying out of the room, the king chuckling at the sight.

Even when you were a kid, Keigo often found himself watching over your sleeping form, something about it made him feel at peace. To see you safe and sound, in arms reach to protect you from any harm that should befall you... perhaps that's exactly what Keigo needed at the moment.

He made his way to your room, the guards at your door knew not to stop him- it was Dabi's orders. Keigo softly knocked on your door, waiting to see if you're still awake. After a few moments of silence, he slowly opened the door and crept inside.

There you were, lying on your side, tucked under the floral covers that reached upto your nose. Your hair sprawled out over the pillow, a few wisps framing your face under the glow of the lantern in the room. Your lips were slightly parted and Keigo smiled at how you looked the same as you did when you were a baby.

He walked closer and brushed the hair out of your face, and leaned down to kiss your forehead as his hands pulled the covers closer to you. He turned to leave but halted when he heard a whimper.

He looked at your face, which was now scrunched up as if in pain. Before he could do anything, you started mumbling frantically, your head moving side to side, your voice turning loud as your words became audible.

"No! No! Stop, Im sorry- STOP! STOP! STOP! KEIGO STOP-!" Keigo rushed to wake you up from your nightmare, only for your eyes to snap open as you began thrashing in his arms, pushing away from him as you began screaming for help, tears streaming down your face as you backed away so far that you fell off the bed, still shrieking for him to get away, just in time for the Dabi to burst in your room with your guards.

"DAD!" You yelled, your body shaking as he made his way towards you. "HE'S GOING TO KILL ME! HE'S GOING TO KILL ME!" You cried out, pointing at Keigo.

"Y/n, honey, calm down. He's not going to hurt-" Dabi tried to console you, taking your shoulders in his hands but you were inconsolable. He looked at Keigo, and the blonde saw the slightest flicker of doubt- no, accusation; an incriminating look in those cerulean eyes.

"I didn't do anything, Dabi. She was having a nightmare and-" he tried to explain himself, something he didn't think he'd need to do with Dabi.

"HE'LL KILL ME! HE'LL KILL ME! HE'LL KILL ME LIKE HE HE KILLED TOMURA!" You continued rambling on, tears streaking your cheeks, not taking your eyes off Keigo for a moment, as if afraid that he'd strike you at a chance.

Dabi looked at your face, concern arising at the raw fear in your eyes. Its only when a trail of crimson left your nose and your chest began heaving heavily did Dabi finally say the words.

"Keigo, leave."

The blonde took a step closer towards you. "No Dabi, I can help-"

Dabi snapped his head back at him and with unbridled rage in his face, he yelled at him.

"I'M ORDERING YOU TO LEAVE! NOW!"

Keigo's heart shattered at the venomous tone, and his face showed it. But right now, Dabi was more concerned about his daughter not having a panic attack or passing out. He could worry about Keigo later, you were the priority now.

You're the priority.

As Keigo left, Dabi picked you up and placed you back in your bed, promising to spend the night by your side. With the way your eyes remained wide open, he was worried you wouldn't sleep. But sleep finally overcame you as you were held by Dabi, your head lying on his warm chest, barely hiding the coy smile as he told the guard to inform Keigo that he won't be returning to bed tonight.

The next morning, when you woke up, you were still curled up in Dabi's lap. True to his word, he stayed with you the entire time, and it didn't seem like he slept much.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked, eyes slightly tired from the lack of sleep.

"I'm better, thank you." You whispered, getting off his lap. You looked up at him, brows knitting together as you tried to think of what to say next, or about last night. "I- last night... I-"

He waved you off. "We'll talk after breakfast. I think you're well enough to join us in the dining hall, hm?" You nodded as he got up and walked closer to you, cupping your cheek with one hand as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"My precious." He smiled before leaving your room, right in time for Inko to come in to help you get ready for breakfast.

Dabi returned to his room where he wasn't surprised to see Keigo pacing around, worriedly. From the dark circles and red eyes, Dabi figured the blonde hadn't slept.

"Dabi, I am so sorry-" He started but was cut off by Dabi wrapping his arms around him.

"Its okay. Not your fault." He sighed, pulling away to kiss Keigo on the lips. But the blonde wanted to still clarify himself.

"I didn't do anything, Dabi- she just- she had a nightmare and I was just trying to he'll her-"

"I know, Keigo. I know." Dabi stared into his scared eyes and his gaze softened. "But you need to understand that when I tell you to do something, you do it without question. Without a second thought. Y/n is- she's still a child, as much as she pretends to be a grown up, deep down all of these events have scarred her in way or another. We have to give her time and we have to help her, hm?"

Keigo only nodded before resting his head on Dabi's chest, wanting to be comforted as well.

"Let's eat, hm?"

The three of you sat on the dining table, eating in awkward silence. You and Keigo didn't meet each other's eyes, Dabi kept looking between you two, hoping one of you would finally start talking.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry-!" You and Keigo said together. You spoke again before he could (as you should, according to royal protocol. But everyone knows the King's favourite isn't one to follow rules.)

"I am sorry, for how I behaved last night, Keigo. I- I was having a nightmare and-" you sighed. "-Its not your fault. I reacted very poorly and I shouldn't have pushed you away or been afraid of you, I just- I just-" Dabi grabbed your hand and squeezed it affirmatively when he saw remorse in your eyes.

"Its okay, really. I didn't mind it, and I know it wasn't your fault either. But I have to ask... was the nightmare about me?" Keigo asked cautiously.

You looked up at him before looking away, eyes slowly welling up with tears. That was enough of an answer for him and Keigo could feel his heart drop at the thought of you being afraid of him.

"I am- I think I just need- I need some time to get used to you again..." you say.

Dabi hummed, giving a quick glance to Keigo who nodded begrudgingly as well.

"Well, now that this topic is over, I was thinking of sharing some good news." Dabi said, making the two look at him. "Since you seem to be in good health, I was thinking you could visit your mother. What do you think?"

"Really?" You whispered in disbelief.

Dabi nodded. "Of course, I'd be accompanying. Don't want you fainting or-" you cut him off by a big hug and loads of "thank you's".

He let you be excused so that you could get ready while Keigo watched him with a slightly hurt expression in his eyes.

"So... I shouldn't come with you two?" He asked in a low tone.

Dabi met his eyes and held his gaze before softening them. "I think some space between you both would benefit for her. After last night, I don't think she's strong mentally, Keigo. Her mother is a sensitive topic as it is... I can't risk her having another episode like last night."

Keigo stared at his plate before nodding, not meeting his eyes. "I understand. E-excuse me." He left the room.

Dabi knew being apart from you was the last thing Keigo ever wanted but... he could make him understand later. For now, Dabi needs to focus on you.

"Thank you." You said to your father who was behind you, holding the reins of his horse you rode on together. He insisted on sharing one ride, and you felt closer to him while he felt content now that you were in his arms, safe and secure.

"What for?" Dabi asked.

"Everything." You looked down at your hands and then ahead at the road. "For going with me to see mom. And for taking care of her grave. For last night, when you held me."

Dabi smiled and kissed the top of your head.

Soon you two had reached the castle and were getting off the horse when Shotou came out beaming.

"Someone is waiting for you-"

"Y/N!" Rei yelled as she dropped royal protocol and practically ran down the stairs of the entry door to hug you. "My child!" She began crying into your shoulder as her arms squeezed your form so hard that it almost began to hurt.

"Honey, you're going to break her." A familiar voice said, making you pull back from Rei.

"Grandpa!" You squealed as the older man caught you when you jumped, spinning you around as you buried your face into his neck, arms barely reaching around his broad shoulders.

"My doll, my little princess." He cooed as he kissed your forehead, his own eyes getting a little misty.

"Enji, stop hogging her." Rei smacked his arm.

He frowned. "Honey, I'm not hogging her-"

"Yes, you are!" Someone yelled as they yanked you out of his arms and into their own. "I've missed you so much, my baby!" She cried as she rubbed her cheek against yours.

"Hello, Aunt Fuyumi." You chuckled as you patted her arms to let go but she held you tighter. Fortunately, Dabi came to your rescue.

"You're hurting her, Fuyumi." He said as he pulled you away and behind him. Fuyumi gave him a quick bow and "Your Majesty." Before punching his shoulder. "I was worried about you! Would it have killed you to write back to me?!"

"I've been... busy." He replied. "Besides, I needed some alone time with my daughter before you came to hog her."

"I can't help it that she's my favorite neice!" Fuyumi defended.

"I'm your only neice..." you mumbled from behind Dabi. "Also, Where's uncle Natsuo-"

A loud crash was heard, making Dabi immeadiately turn and push you behind him. Of course, speak of the devil and the devil shall-

"I'm here!" Natsuo huffs as he gets off the horse he just crashed into some poor guards (their unconscious bodies are being dragged away).

He walks up the steps and quickly bows to his parents and Dabi before locking eyes with you and manically grinning as he lifts you up in his arms and spins around, making you chortle as you slap his arms to slow down.

"Oh youre a sight for sore eyes, you little brat!" He came to halt and you had to grab his arms to stabilise yourself. He pinched your nose, making you whine. "I'm never letting you go alone now! Gonna take you to battles with me, if I have to. Missed you too much."

You smiled sweetly at him. "I missed you too, uncle."

The Todoroki clan had decided to stay a week or two over at Dabi's castle, much to his dismay. Of course he doesn't like the fact that Enji and the rest of his family will be breathing down your neck, but Shotou convinced him to let them spend time with you here rather than whisking you away to Enji's kingdom where it'll be harder for Dabi to keep an eye on you (and not to mention the trauma he still hasn't recovered from since that was the place he lost you last time).

While you were being coddled and spending some quality time with the Todoroki clan, Keigo was finding ways to stay out of their way. He had initially greeted them when they arrived, but from their cold attitude and death stares, he'd much rather be ignored by them. And it's not like he or Dabi doesn't know how the royal family dislikes Keigo, so Dabi would often leave you with his family while he went to console his lover.

By the end of the week, as much Dabi wouldn't like to admit, you had looked much better and healthier since his family came. You looked happier, brighter. They were all having dinner together in the big dinning hall. Dabi sat at the head of the table, Rei to his right, then you and then Enji because of course your grandparents want you squished between them. Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shotou sat to Dabi's left.

"Baby you need to eat more! I could see your ribs from here." Rei said as she put another serving of food on your plate.

"But I'm full-"

"No, you're not. Now eat those veggies, I don't need your pretty hair falling out." Rei cooed as you begrudgingly followed her orders. She then narrows her eyes at Dabi. "You too Dabi, eat your veggies. Only drinking wine isn't healthy!"

Dabi hummed nonchalantly. "Yes, mom." He said, eyes trained towards the door. He sighed before beckoning a servant, whispering something to him. The servant nodded obediently and left.

"Aww, are you really going to eat veggies? What a good mama's boy you are." Natsuo teased, only to be whacked on the head by Fuyumi.

"Yeah, I'm having them bring more food." Dabi smiled.

A few minutes later, the hall doors opened and in walked-

Concubine Keigo.

The man who had been good at hiding himself for the better part of the week, was now walking towards Dabi. He bowed to him first, before bowing to the rest of the family. Even though his siblings masked their displeasure at seeing Keigo, his parents, especially Rei, made no such efforts.

She threw a nasty look when Dabi had someone bring a chair and seat Keigo next to him.

"You're going to eat with us?" Rei asked, not holding back the disgust in her tone.

"Mother." Dabi warned.

"What?" Rei shrugged, slicing her steak elegantly. "I'm just curious. I thought this was a family dinner."

Dabi's eyes darkened. "He is family." He looked at Keigo before bringing his hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "And if he wasn't before, he will be now."

The table had went dead silent as they all looked at Dabi, anticipating the bomb he was about to drop on them. Somehow, you already knew you were going to dread the news he was about to share.

"We're getting married."

And just like that, the curtain of happiness drops, your world shatters.

"I was going to wait a few more weeks before announcing, but since Y/n had been feeling better and you all came, I decided now would be the best time. I had proposed to Keigo long before Y/n was kidnapped-" you stopped hearing after that, you couldn't even if you tried. Your heart was beating too fast, too loudly for you to hear anything.

Is your father really going to marry Keigo? The man who killed your mother? The man who killed Tomura? Did Dabi even care about you anymore-

"Y/n?" Dabi called. Under the table, Enji held your hand and gave it a squeeze, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked at Dabi and Keigo, who were holding hands.

"Congratulations." You smiled. "When's the date?"

Everyone was surprised at your composure, Keigo who was holding his breath finally sighed in relief while Dabi looked proudly at you.

You've really matured.

"Well, we were thinking later this week, since everyone is still here. What do you say, Y/n?" Dabi asks, sipping his wine.

You hummed. "Very wise. Let me know if I could be of any help." The dinner soon ended, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you (except for Dabi and Keigo, they were looking at each other like they wanted to rip their clothes off).

Instead of joining the family in the garden for a walk, you excused yourself and left for your room. And only after you had closed your door did you finally let the tears fall.

How could he do this to you? How could your father marry that murderous skank? Was it to show you up? To teach you a lesson? It couldn't possibly be- because he loves Keigo, could it?

"No." You whispered harshly, as you sat on your bed. If this marriage happens, it'll put Keigo in a much powerful position, and it'll br far harder for you to take him down.

And not to mention, by law, you would have to bow down to him.

Concubines never get to be more superior than legitimate heirs, but since Keigo was already a favourite, and your lack of a quirk makes everyone question your legitimacy as a heir and a ruler, you have no doubt that Dabi will make you kneel to his slut.

Someone knocked on your door. "Come in." You said, fixing yourself.

It was Rei and Enji, concerned looks etched on their faces. Looking at them, you couldn't help the tears that welled up.in your eyes again.

"Oh honey~" Rei cooed with open arms as she hugged you, letting you sniffle into her gown.

"I- I'm sorry-" you tried to say, as you pulled away only for Rei to pull you closer to her. She sat on your bed and positioned herself in a way so that you could lay your head in her lap.

"You don't have to be brave anymore, Y/n." Rei said as she ran her finger through your hair. Your tears slipped down your face as you watched Enji sit on the foot end of your bed, taking your feet in his lap and rubbing your ankles.

"None of this is your fault, Y/n." Rei said. "I still want to go and yell at Dabi for even letting that whore sit with us, let alone marrying him-"

"Rei." Enji warned.

She huffed. "Your grandpa says that wouldn't be wise." She kissed your cheek. "How about you come with us? Hm? I can talk with Dabi and convince him to let you come with us until the wedding is over-"

"No!" You shook your head frantically. The last time you went away, your father proposed to Keigo. Who knows what that blonde will do this time when you leave. Take away all of your mother's belongings? Kick you out? Make Dabi question your legitimacy?

"I- I already told them I'd be here to help them. Besides, I shouldn't be away from my father on this joyous occasion. Really, I'm happy for him- for them." You wiped your tears away as Enji and Rei looked at you with pity. "I just- I just miss mom a little."

They stayed with you the rest of the night.

After the announcement to the family, Dabi had announced of his wedding to his kingdom. The news had gotten mixed reactions, they cheered and congratulated Dabi out of fear, while also throwing pitiful looks your way, hushed whispers about "poor princess Y/n". Good thing was that you spent most of your time in your room, so you didn't have to bear the embarrassment much.

You were standing in Dabi's office. He'd called you, and Keigo was there too. You didn't think it would be possible for them to be more closer and show more disgusting displays of affection, but here they are, shamelessly eating each others faces.

"Y/n! How have you been?" Dabi asked as Keigo got off his lap, giving a quick squeeze to his bum (you wanted to burn your eyes with acid).

"I'm well, thank you." You smiled, trying to contain the contents of your gut. "You asked for me?" Might as well come to the topic before they start doing more...stuff.

"Ah yes. Well, since the wedding is approaching, I wanted to ask if you'd like to be the maid of honour?" He said, shuffling through some papers- invites.

"You want me to be your maid of honor-?"

"Mine? No. I have Natsuo. I was asking if you'd like to be Keigo's, since he has no one to walk him down the aisle, Keigo suggested you. And you two are close, so it seems like a good idea, no?" He said in a tone that made it seem more like an order than a question.

How could he ask you that? Has your father lost his mind? Is he that horny to not give a shit about his own daughter?

You looked at Keigo, who was standing there with a chalice, his golden eyes piercing through you, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Of course, he'd convinced Dabi to suggest something as preposterous as this. Perhaps as a revenge for earlier.

"I think it'd be better if someone else stepped in. Perhaps one of the other concubines?" You offered. You'd much rather eat a bag of nails than let his filthy hands hold yours as you walk down the aisle.

"No, no. Keigo isn't close to any of the concubines. Besides, I think it'd show the rest of the world of our united front. Put all the rumours about conflict among you and Keigo to rest." Dabi said, deciding for you.

"Yes, your Majesty." You said, bowing as you left the room.

The next day was rehearsal day. The servants were working hard to decorate evey inch of the castle, making sure to prepare for guests from far and away, perhaps because Keigo told them that this was going to be "the biggest wedding of history."

You were standing in the church with Keigo holding your gloved hand. Just because Dabi said you have to walk him down the aisle, doesn't mean you need to touch him. The gloves were only the smallest barrier.

"Thank you for doing this for me." Keigo said as you both walked down the aisle towards Dabi. Every fiber of your being was screaming to rip yourself away from him.

"Anything for my father." Your lips formed into a tight lipped smile.

Ignoring your comment, Keigo asked you something even more cursed. "Have you thought of how you'd address me now that I'm marrying your father?"

Bitch. Skank. Whore. Pig. Murderer. Ostrich. Ass hat. Pile of shit. Slut-

"I have more important affairs to be concerned about." You said, dismissing the topic, but of course Keigo wouldn't let it go.

"Well, I have and I'd prefer if you'd call me dad or papa. Mama is also fine, but spare me the royal titles. I don't care for them and I don't want you to be formal with me. We're family now." Keigo said as you both reached Dabi who took Keigo's hand from yours, both leaning down to kiss your cheeks.

You wonder if his touch would still linger if you placed a hot iron poker.

You were walking towards your room, when you passed by your mother's. Opening the door, you saw Inko was there as well, going through your mother's closet.

"Princess!" She turned around, bowing to you with a gentle smile. "Look what I've found!" She showed you some dresses, your mother's beloved gowns, her tiaras, her jewellery.

"I was thinking that you could wear them on the wedding!" Inko said, as she pulled out a beautiful baby blue gown with jewels and sakura blossoms embroidered on it. "They should be of your size, bit I'm happy to make a few alterations to it if you'd like!"

You smiled as you tried on the gown, it fit you perfectly. "And if you pair it with this tiara and your mother's favourite ring!" She placed the white princess tiara on your head, along with the turquoise ring that had diamonds around it, with a gold band. "Your father gave it to your mother on their wedding night. Your mother adored this ring so much, she often said the turquoise stone reminded her of your father whenever he went away om wars." Of course it did remind her of Dabi, his eyes had the same colour as the stone.

"I'll wear this." You said as you admired yourself in the mirror, happy at how you resembled your mother. "Will you have them polished for me?" Inko nodded as she took the ring and tiara from you.

At least there's something you could look forward to at this awful wedding.

Guests had started arriving two days before the wedding. Few had been invited to stay at this castle, while others had rooms arranged for them at the other castles nearby.

You had insisted on at least letting your friends stay at the castle, but Dabi turned you down, saying something about security concerns. But he allowed them to visit you during the day.

"Katsuki!" You giggled as you hugged the barbarian king, who only lifted you up and twirled you around.

"Stop acting like a buffoon. Set her down, she's a princess, not a cat." Momo chided as she fanned herself. Katsuki only huffed as he set you down.

"Empress Yaoryuzu-" you started bowing but she hit the top of your head with her fan lightly.

"Forgetting how you're supposed to address me?" She asked, raising her brow at you. You sighed before giving a peck on her lips.

"Hey! What the heck that?!" Katsuki asked as he pulled you behind him. You placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "Katsuki, it's just a traditional greeting in her land."

"Yes, but I don't expect uncultured barbarians to understand what traditions mean." Momo snickered.

"Alright, that's it-"

"Enough!" You yelled at them. "I have bigger matters to handle than to stop you two from fighting like children. So if you insist on bickering, please do it outside of this palace and on your own time. Do I make myself clear?" You glared at them as they finally nodded.

The "matters" that you need to handle are about you making sure that when Keigo marries Dabi, he doesnt get to sign a contract that states all about Keigo's new powers and "governing" opportunities. You need to make sure that Keigo doesn't get more power than needed, that he doesn't get a superior title to you, the legitimate heir, and that he doesn't get to add a clause or two that would benefit him and harm you.

A familiar servant passed by you, gave you a nod. Of course, you had initially thought of finding ways to stop the wedding altogether, so you had a servant bribe some concubines and knights to flirt with Keigo, if only to arouse rumours and better yet, catch him in a compromising position.

But you knew that with the wedding approaching, Keigo would be more cautious than ever, and it's not like Dabi would take off the veil of love off his eyes to even suspect that Keigo is cheating on him.

You sat in the garden after returning from the office, asking your uncle Shotou if the contract for marriage had been drawn up. He told you no, that its still in the works and should be coming in tomorrow evening, and when he asked why you wanted to know, you'd made some excuse about wanting to see whether your father was going to have new stamps made with Keigo's face in it.

He only chuckled, but both of you knew Dabi wouldn't be above doing such an abomination.

"What're you doing here alone, bub?" Dabi asked as he sat down next to you. "Everyone's inside, waiting for you."

You smiled softly. "Just... needed some air. Nothing to worry about."

Dabi hummed as he gazed ahead at the tree line. "I know everything is happening so fast and is hectic, so I haven't had the time to talk to you but-" He looked at you and smiled with soft eyes. "- I want to tell you how proud I am of you. For being so mature, for handling everything with such grace. I know this news wasn't easy for you, but I am grateful that you have accepted Keigo and have chosen to be a part of my happiness."

Chosen? There was never a choice.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. "Of course, dad. I will always love you."

He kissed your forehead. "And I, you."

The next day went by blur, mostly because of the guests and servants running rampant. Momo and Katsuki were in the backyard, away from the party, and you only spared a few glances when they began to duel. You couldn't deal with them right now, not when you had to go and read the marriage contract before Keigo could sign it.

You were on your way when you heard Inko arguing loudly with someone. For a sweet lady like her, it's not normal for her to yell at anyone. So, you went to check out the commotion first.

"THIS IS NOT THE JEWELLERY PIECES I SENT FOR YOU TO POLISH!" Inko said furiously, slamming her hands on the table. You peeked at the man she was yelling at, recognising him as the royal jeweller. "WHERE IS PRINCESS Y/N'S RING?!"

"I- um- they-" the man stumbled over his words as you finally let yourself in.

"Your Majesty!" They both bowed, as you waved them off. "What's the matter Inko? Where's my mother's ring?"

She shot a furious glare to the man, who cowered. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

You stepped forward and looked at the man with a calm smile. "Where's my ring? Did something happen to it? Did you lose it?" You asked and you could only imagine Inko's murderous intent if the man said that he did lose it.

"No, princess- I didn't lose it! The ring- the ring it's with- concubine Keigo!" You face never dropped as fast as it did in that moment.

"What? How is this possible?" You interrogated.

"After- after I took your jewellery from Inko, King Dabi had called me in to display all of the royal family's jewels, including yours! When he left the room, he told concubine Keigo to pick anything he'd like to wear in the wedding ceremony, and- well- he picked the late queen's ring, saying that it'd remind him of the King's eyes." He explained helplessly, but you had already left the room, storming up the stairs to take back your ring.

You didn't even have to go to Keigo's Chambers as you found the concubine standing in the hallway, a drunk blush on his cheeks, and wearing something glimmerd in the dim halls-

Your mother's ring.

"Y/n! I've been looking for you! Come, come to papa!"

All sense of logic and manners went out the window as you stormed towards him and slapped him so hard across the face, that he fell.

Keigo hadn't even begun to recover from the shock of being slapped when you began punching him.

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?" You screamed. "WAS IT NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU TO KILL MY MOTHER, TAKE HER THRONE, MARRY MY FATHER, THAT YOU HAD TO TAKE HER RING AWAY TOO?! THOSE ARE MY THINGS! THEY BELONG TO ME, YOU FUCKING SLUT!" You shrieked as Keigo tried to dodge your hits without hurting you.

His eyes went wide when you wrapped your hands around his throat and began choking him. "I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to end this for once and for all!"

"Y/N!" Someone yelled as they ripped you away from Keigo. "HAVE YOU FUCKING LOST IT!?" It was Dabi.

"YES!" You screamed. "I HAVE LOST IT, JUST LIKE YOU HAVE WHEN YOU DECIDED TO MARRY THAT FUCKING WHORE! IN FACT, I HAVE LOST A WHOLE LOT MORE THAN YOU! I HAVE LOST MY MOTHER BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT IN THAT FUCKING BITCH! I HAVE LOST MY GRANDFATHER BECAUSE YOU WERE BUSY SCREWING AROUND WITH THAT WHORE! I HAVE LOST MY ONLY FRIEND, BECAUSE YOUR MURDEROUS LITTLE SLUT DECIDED THAT I DO NOT DESERVE TO HAVE ANY HAPPINESS! AND I HAVE LOST MY MOTHER'S ONLY LEGACY BECAUSE YOUD MUCH RATHER GIVE IT TO YOUR NEW BED WARMER THAN TO ME!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Dabi yelled, getting dangerously close to your face. "I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANYMORE INSULT AND DISOBEDIENCE FROM YOU! TOMORROW IS OUR WEDDING-"

"FUCK YOUR WEDDING! EVERYONE KNOWS YOURE GOING TO BE MARRYING A MURDERER AND ID MUCH RATHER KILL MYSELF THAN BE A PART OF THAT SHITSHOW!" Dabi went silent at your words, deathly silent. Then... he chuckled as he looked over his shoulder at Keigo who was already shaking his head, as if to stop him before he does something he regrets.

"Its about time she knows, eh?" Dabi said as he laughed.

"Dabi, dont-" Keigo started, but you cut him off. "Know what?" You spat.

Dabi looked at you, and his eyes held a cruel expression.

"Keigo didn't kill your mother. I did."

You couldn't- couldn't process the words that had left his mouth. So, you made him repeat himself.

"What?" You whispered. Dabi knelt down to your level, leaned closer to you so you could look into his eyes and see he wasn't lying.

"I. Killed. Your Mother." He said slowly, as if talking to a child. "I hated your mother, and the only reason I had been putting up with her for so long was because she was taking care of you. But one day, she thought she could threaten me by saying that she was going to leave me. I told her fine, signed the divorce papers and gave them to her. She wasn't expecting it, so she said she was going to take you with her. Now, that was something I couldn't allow. So, your mother decided to try to hurt me by poisoning you. When I found her plans, I confronted her and told her to either drink that same poison she bad for you or she was to leave tomorrow morning and never see any of us again. She instead chose to kill herself because she believed it'd be far more of a dishonour to return to her home as a divorcee and without child."

Tears slipped down your face. "N-No, you're lying. I saw Keigo-"

"Keigo tried to save her, but I told him no. I made him stop. The very thought of harming you was punishable. She deserved to die, and I had no sympathy for her when she dropped dead in front of me. I even had the antidote, but I chose to watch her die." Dabi said coldly. "All this time, Keigo had been covering up for me. He didn't say a word when rumors started, knly because he didn't want to have people see me as a murderer. He adored you, he's taken care of you, has quietly taken every insult you've ever thrown his way. And this is how you repay him?"

"Only Keigo and I have truly ever loved you. Your own mother wanted to kill you for her own selfish gains." Dabi said harshly as your world finally collapsed around you.

You couldn't say anything, do anything as you tried to make sense of his words, tried to find a way to that would tell you that he's lying. But you couldn't.

"GUARDS!" Dabi called. "Lock the princess in the hightower. Tie her to her bed, make sure she doesn't hurt herself or escape." He said before helping Keigo up. You couldn't protest as the guards dragged you to the hightower, didn't move a muscle as they tied you to your bed. All you could do was look up at the ceiling and cry mutely.

All these years, all this time, you'd been blaming Keigo, when everything that has ever happened to you was your beloved father's fault. The man you loved, the man you looked up to, the man you cherished... he had been the one who killed your mother?

The more you thought over his confession, the more you felt yourself age. By morning, you didn't have energy to even breathe.

The doors opened, you continued to look up at the wall, tears brimming your eyes.

Dabi walked in, and you didn't need to see his face to know he was still mad at you. No, the anger was practically radiating off him.

"You are to get ready and smile as you walk Keigo down the aisle. If you do something stupid, I will have your friends hunted down and killed. Do I make myself clear?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"Princess, please, at least eat something." Inko said pushing the slice of bread to your lips, but you didn't part them. Simply looking ahead in the mirror with a blank stare as the maids did your hair and makeup. "Izuku, she hasn't said a word since morning! I'm getting worried."

Izuku nodded and signalled the maids to leave. He turned your head towards to him and smiled warmly at you. "Y/n... princess, what's the matter? Tell me, so I can fix it, hm?"

Some things can never be fixed.

You didn't say anything, only looking at him with that hundred yard stare, and Izuku couldn't help but feel a little spooked.

He helped you walk towards the church where Keigo was already waiting for you. He was dressed in a white fitted gown that was sleeveless and backless, and had a fishtail. The dress itself had body chains made of gold and Ruby and sapphires sewed in an intricate pattern. And his veil? He didn't opt to wear one.

He looked at you and smiled kindly, although you couldn't really tell the difference at this point. "You look beautiful, Y/n." He held out his arm for you. "Ready to walk me down?"

You didn't have the energy or want to link your arm with his. Inko had to help you place your arm around his.

The doors to the church opened and the choir began singing hymns. The guests turned to look at you and Keigo, who was beaming as he looked at the end of the aisle where Dabi stood, a satisfied smile on his own face.

Your body felt weak, too weak and... different. You were dragging your steps, which fortunately no one could tell since they were hidden under your gown. At some point, it felt more like Keigo was walking you than you were walking him.

You weren't smiling at all. No, you still had the blank stare on your face, which luckily few people noticed since everyone was focused on Keigo.

"What's wrong with her?" Momo whispered to Katsuki as they saw your face. "Why does she look so... disturbed?"

"She must've seen your face." Katsuki remarked, although truth be told, he was also very concerned. Something felt off. Very off.

When you reached the end of the aisle, Dabi took Keigo's from you, and as rehearsed, they both kissed your cheek, but not before Dabi whispered-

"You forgot to smile. Behave."

Shotou guided you towards your seat in the front row, where you were sat next to your grandparents.

The officiant began the ceremony, but you couldn't pay attention to his words. All you could focus was on the turquoise ring on Keigo's hand.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Rei asked, a frown on her face. You didn't reply, opting to look at your father now.

Your father, your dad, the man you trusted more than anyone, the man who murdered your mother, who had murdered Tomura, who had murdered AFO, who had-

You couldn't breathe, you felt too warm, too hot, everything was burning inside you.

"You may now kiss the groom!" They locked lips, only breaking apart when someone screamed.

It took you a few seconds to realise that it was you who was screaming, only because-

Your hand was on fire.

By the time Dabi or anyone else reached you, your entire body had been engulfed in wild blue flames. Flames that were so hot and out of control, that neither Dabi or Enji or even Shotou could control them. Rei tried to use her ice, but it evaporated before it even came within 6 feet of you. The flames began spreading, making the guests panic and leave the church.

Shotou was the first one to piece it together. "Its her quirk!" Immeadiately, Enji and Dabi began giving you commands on how to control it, to calm yourself, to listen!

Dabi even tried to approach you, maybe if he were to touch you, you'd listen. But your fire was too hot, and you backed away anytime they tried to come closer, only screaming in agony as you burned yourself.

After 5 minutes, only when you fainted from pain and exhaustion did the flames stop. Your body... the aftermath made it beyond recognisable. Parts of your limbs were burned so badly, you could see the bone, while the rest of your skin had charred and burned well enough to know that no nerves will be working there.

Despite everything, you were still somehow miraculously breathing... barely. Dabi couldn't believe the nightmare he'd just witnessed, but his disbelief could wait as he gathered you in his arms and yelled at Shotou to get a doctor.

Everyone left the church, except for Keigo. He had dropped to his knees and was trying to wrap his around the horrible sight he'd seen. Be was trying to compose himself, trying to lie to himself that this... this was not his fault.

He knew he was wrong.

Dabi couldn't peel his eyes away from you, he needed to make sure that your chest rose and fell evenly. The moment it stopped- it wouldn't- but if it did, he needed to be there to resuscitate you.

Emperor Kai was fortunately right outside the church, waiting to be of assistance. It was a good thing he was from the land of healers, he was able to stabilise you.

While Dabi kept his eyes on your burned form, Kai opted to talk with Shotou. "It was her own quirk that brought out those flames, seemingly she got the dominant Todoroki quirk." He commented, glancing your way. "What she didn't inherit was the skin resistance to bare those very flames. She burned herself quite badly, and it doesn't help that the smoke from her own burning has damaged her lungs as well. She's still in a critical condition, I've done all I can. All we can do is wait and watch to see if her body can heal itself."

He also explained to Shotou that since its very rare to get a quirk at your age, that's why you couldn't control it. Kai reasoned that the reason your quirk did develop at that moment was probably because you were under some stress, maybe something had tipped you over emotionally, making your quirk appear so fiercely and harshly.

"Like an outlet, when we cry when we breakdown. She burned herself to release that stress." Kai explained.

Shotulou had walked him out of the room, only after ensuring that no one else was around did he ask that question.

"Her chances of survival... what are they?"

Kai's blank stare didn't give away the type of news he'd give. "Anything is possible, but it all depends on her body's ability to heal itself, her willpower to live. Medically speaking, I've done everything I can. Now, only she can save herself."

Can you save yourself, Y/n?

So... THOUGHTS????

And yall better fucking comment because I did not waste my entire fucking day on this when I COULDVE BEEN STUDYING FOR MY TEST ON TUESDAY FOR YALL TO BE DRY ASS.

Istg if I don't get interactions and comments and likes, I will make yall regret and kill characters left and right, AND REMEMBER THAT DEATH IS NOT THE WORST THING I CAN DO

#yandere dabi x reader #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi #yandere royal gay au #yandere king dabi #yandere concubine keigo #yandere hawks #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo x reader #yandere todoroki clan #yandere endeavor

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