#let me just admire everything about this man

[pretty-royals]

Love at First Battle

| summary : You never believed in love at first sight. You thought it was just a silly fantasy, the kind of thing hopeless romantics clung to. But then you met him—mid-battle…

Warnings : Mid-Violence, Swearing,Near-Death,Cornyyyy, The slowest “fight” ever because someone got distracted by feelings,Sanji being Sanji

The chaos of battle surrounded you. Swords clashed, gunfire rang through the salty air, and the shouts of fighting pirates filled your ears. Your captain had decided today was the day to attack the Straw Hats—an impulsive, reckless decision that left you questioning his leadership. But questioning orders wasn’t an option.

You had a role to play in this fight.

And that role currently had you standing face-to-face with a blonde man in a black suit, his cigarette hanging lazily from his lips as he blocked the path ahead. He had an easy smirk, but his stance was solid, his presence radiating confidence. He wasn’t taking you lightly.

Sanji

You knew of him, of course. The Straw Hats’ cook, the one who could destroy opponents with his legs alone. And damn, now that you were seeing him up close, you realized the rumors hadn’t done him justice.

But you didn’t have time to admire him. You had a fight to win.

Your grip on your weapon tightened, and you lunged.

And then he looked at you.

Blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing straight through you like a damn sword. There was no warning, no slow build-up—it hit you like a cannonball to the chest. Your heart stuttered, your breath caught, and your entire body froze mid-strike.

What the hell?

Your mind screamed at you to move, to swing, to do something, but all you could do was stare. It was like time itself had stopped. The battle around you faded, distant and unimportant. All that existed in that moment was him.

And oh, you were fucked.

Because it wasn’t just attraction. No, this was something deeper, something terrifyingly immediate. It was like your soul had just recognized something it had been searching for all along.

Sanji’s brows furrowed slightly at your hesitation. “Huh?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything.

Which was a problem—because the next thing you knew, a glint of silver caught your eye.

Zoro’s sword, swinging straight for your head.

You barely had time to react before a blur of black and blonde crashed into you, knocking you off balance and sending you tumbling to the ground. The impact left you breathless, but at least you weren’t dead.

“What the hell, Marimo?!” Sanji’s voice rang out above you, furious.

“She’s an enemy,” Zoro shot back, his sword still raised.

“She’s a lady! You absolute caveman!” Sanji’s weight shifted off you as he scrambled to his feet, standing between you and Zoro like a protective barrier. “You don’t just go swinging at a beautiful woman like that!”

You barely registered the words, still trying to process what had just happened. You had stopped attacking him. He had saved you. And now he was defending you?

Your face burned.

Zoro scoffed. “She was about to attack you.”

“Do you really think I’d let that happen?” Sanji exhaled, shaking his head like he was disgusted. “You wound me, Zoro. You really do.”

Meanwhile, you were still on the ground, staring up at them like an idiot. Your crew was fighting, your captain was barking orders, and you were sitting here having a crisis over some blonde man with a cigarette and a stupidly charming smile.

Sanji turned back to you, his expression softening. “Are you alright, mademoiselle?” He offered you a hand, his voice dripping with concern.

You hesitated. You shouldn’t take it. You were supposed to be enemies. This was supposed to be a fight.

But… god, you couldn’t help it.

Your fingers slipped into his, and he pulled you to your feet with effortless grace. The warmth of his skin sent electricity up your arm, and suddenly, you were hyper-aware of everything—his touch, his scent, the way he was way too close.

You had never felt so stupid in your life.

“I—uh—” Words? What were those again?

“I…I should-…have to go”

Sanji blinked, seemingly surprised. “You’re leaving?”

Yeah. Because if you stayed any longer, you were going to die of embarrassment.

You took a step back, heart hammering in your chest. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t just fall for someone in the middle of a battle. That wasn’t how this worked!

But as you turned to retreat, you couldn’t resist one last glance.

Sanji was still watching you, his expression unreadable. And maybe—just maybe—there was something in his eyes too. Something dangerous. Something too real.

You swallowed hard.

Yeah. You were definitely fucked.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲.

Y/N Weasley may be a devoted mother, but before all the little Weasleys took over your world, you were Bill’s wife first.

And no matter how chaotic the home becomes, no matter how many little hands tug at you for attention, you never let Bill forget how much you loves him.

You had a thousand little ways of showing it—each one making Bill fall for you all over again.

1. Your Soft, Knowing Touch.

•No matter where they are, you always find a way to touch him.

•A hand on his arm when you two talk.

•Fingers tracing over his scars absentmindedly.

•Running a hand through his hair when he lays his head in your lap.

•Bill could be talking about work, reading a book, or even just sitting quietly, and you’ll lean in and rest your forehead against his—just because.

•Whenever he’s stressed or lost in thought, you cup his face in your hands and whispers, “Still with me, love?”

•It always brings him back to you.

2. The Way you Look at Him Like He’s the Only Man in the World.

•Bill catches you staring at him all the time, and when he asks why, you just smirk and say, “Just admiring my handsome husband.”

•You love watching him with their children—when he’s carrying Felix on his shoulders or dancing with Lila around the kitchen, you just stop and soak it all in.

•Sometimes, you’ll just lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, whispering, “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

3. How You Melt for His Scars (And Makes Him Love Them Too).

•At first, Bill was insecure about them, but You? You loved them from the start.

•You trace them with your fingers, kisses them softly, and tells him, “They don’t define you, but I love every part of you.”

•When he jokes about looking too wolfish, you just grin and pulls him close—

•“I don’t know, Weasley. I find your wolfish tendencies very attractive.”

•Whenever he’s shirtless, you run your fingers over his scars like you're memorizing them.

•If he ever doubts himself, you grab his chin, makes him look at you, and reminds him, “You’re still the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

4. Your Teasing and Flirty Nature.

•You may be a sweetheart, but you're also a menace when you want to be.

•You whispers flirtatious comments in his ear at the worst times, just to see him flustered.

•“If you keep looking at me like that, love, we’re going to be late for dinner.”

•If he’s working too much, you steal his quill and sit in his lap until he gives you attention.

•You wiggle your eyebrows at him when the kids aren’t looking.

•If Bill ever gets too cocky, you lean in close and whispers,

•"You talk big, Weasley. Care to prove it?”

•And he always does.

5. The Way You Always Find Your Way Into His Arms.

•Bill’s favorite thing? When You seek him out just to hold him.

•If you two are in a crowded room, you always find him and leans against him.

•When you're lying in bed, you pulls yourself against his chest, fingers absently tracing over his skin.

•If he’s sitting? You sit between his legs, rests your back against his chest, and sighs like it’s the safest place in the world.

•If Bill has a long day, you just wraps yourself around him like a blanket and whispers, “You don’t have to be strong all the time, love.”

6. The Late-Night Kisses and Pillow Talk.

•No matter what happens during the day, you never let him sleep without reminding him you love him.

•You trail your fingers over his chest, talking softly in the dark about everything and nothing.

•Kisses his scars, his cheek, his nose, and finally his lips.

•“Sleep well, love. You’re everything to me.”

•If you wake up before him? You just lay there, tracing your fingers through his hair, smiling.

7. Your Fierce Defensiveness Over Him.

•No one—NO ONE—says a bad word about your husband and gets away with it.

•If someone insults him, your sweet demeanor disappears instantly.

•“Excuse me? That’s my husband you’re talking about, and I’d suggest you think twice before you continue.”

•Bill secretly loves it, watching you go full protective lioness mode.

•When a woman once made a passing comment about the scars, you firmly but politely corrected her.

•“They don’t make him any less of the man he’s always been. If anything, they make him even stronger.”

•Bill never forgets that moment.

8. The Way You Support Him in Everything.

•If Bill doubts himself, you won’t hear it.

•“You are the strongest, smartest, most wonderful man I know. And if you don’t see that, I’ll remind you every day until you do.”

•If he’s nervous about a mission, you press a lingering kiss to his lips and whispers,

•“Come home to me, Weasley.”

•If he gets frustrated, you ground him with a simple touch.

9. How You Give Him Your Whole Heart.

•Bill has never once doubted that you adore him.

•When he walks into the room, you light up every single time—even after all these years.

•If he’s talking, you listen like he’s the most fascinating person in the world.

•When he tells stories, you watche him, memorizing every expression.

•If you're in a crowded room, he knows you're thinking of him when you give him that smile—the one that says “You’re still my favorite person here.”

10. The Words You Whispers That Make Him Weak.

•“You’re everything to me, Bill Weasley.”

•“You gave me this beautiful life, and I’ll spend forever loving you for it.”

•“There will never be anyone else. Only you, always.”

•“I love you more today than yesterday. And tomorrow? I’ll love you even more.”

You are the Woman Who Loves Bill Weasley Best

You never let Bill forget how much he means to you—with your touch, your words, and the way you chose him every single day.

And Bill?

He falls a little more in love with you every single time.

[michuga]

beautiful, dirty, rich 1

your entire life is a façade; to be rich, you have to act rich. until you meet someone who shows you that some things, you simply can't cheat your way into.

pairing: ceo jeongguk x fraud reader

warnings: swearing, catfishing, manipulation

a/n: my first series.. a bit nervous about it, but please let me know what you think :) enjoy!

to be rich, you have to act rich.

you and your roommate and best friend of many years, eunji, have been pretending to be rich for the past two years.

you were skeptical at first, but when you got into your first paris fashion show, that's when you knew this might actually succeed.

apparently, when people think you're important, they give you everything you want.

it started with a dare.

eunji’s balancing a cheap bottle of rosé on her knee, scrolling through instagram. "bet we could sneak into that," she says, flashing her screen at you. paris fashion week, influencers dripping in designer clothes, flashing cameras, and velvet ropes.

you laugh it off at first. but the idea lingers. later that night, after too much alcohol and not enough common sense, you both raid your closets, throwing together outfits that almost look designer if you squint hard enough. a pair of knockoff sunglasses here, a thrifted blazer there. you practice your walk in the mirror; chin up, eyes forward, head held high.

the next day, you arrive at the venue, hearts pounding. but something strange happens.

as you look straight ahead and strut right through, the security guy barely glances at you. the crowd parts. the cameras flash; maybe by accident, maybe not. but no one stops you.

later, sitting in the back row with a glass of champagne you definitely didn’t pay for, eunji leans over, whispering, "that was too easy."

one fashion show turns into another. and another. soon, you’re not just sneaking in—you’re invited. or at least, that’s what people think.

you start studying the scene. watching how the rich move, how they talk. the subtle flexes: a casual mention of a vacation home in the maldives, an offhand complaint about a yacht’s engine problems.

you learn to drop hints without overplaying your hand. eunji masters the art of the perfect instagram post, carefully curating your shared feed to make it look like you’ve been living this life forever.

it's been your party trick ever since.

that wasn't your last brush with wealth.

as you got bolder, you started going to places you purposely knew rich people frequented. or at least that's what the internet told you.

rooftop bars with $20 cocktails, hotel lobbies where the marble floors gleamed a little too brightly, art galleries where the paintings were just as pretentious as the people admiring them. you and eunji would walk in like you owned the place.

it was easy, once you realized how little it took to blend in.

the rules were simple: look the part, play the part, and never let them see you sweat. you and eunji learned that fast. wealth wasn’t about money; it was about perception.

the rich weren’t just beautiful and powerful—they were dirty.

it's a dirty game you were playing. a dirty game in a filthy world.

it wasn’t just about sneaking into fashion shows or getting free drinks.

no, the game got dirtier the deeper you went. men with too much money and too little conscience started noticing you. you knew their type—married with a mistress on speed dial, or single but treating women like accessories to match their suits.

none of them were good men. they were the kind who treated waiters like furniture, snapping their fingers to call them over; like they were at their beck and call. the kind who thought their money could buy loyalty, love, you.

the first time a man offered to buy you something outrageous, it was in one of those places. a dimly lit bar at the top of a five-star hotel, where the view of the city felt like it was reserved for people with trust funds and offshore accounts. you were sitting at the bar, swirling a drink you could barely afford, when he slid into the seat next to you.

stephen, with a p. mid-thirties, expensive watch, the kind of suit that whispered old money.

the conversation started the way it always did—where you’re from, what you do, the kind of small talk that feels like a performance. you mentioned, offhandedly, that your laptop was on its last leg, crashing mid-paper like it had a personal vendetta against your degree. you didn’t expect much from it; just a throwaway comment. that was your humor.

but then he laughed, like it was cute, like you were cute. and with the ease of someone who never had to check their bank account, he said, "send me the specs. i'll take care of it."

you nearly choked on your drink. but you kept your cool, because that’s the rule. don't ogle and squeal like a damn fool; act like you’ve been here before. like men buying you thousand-dollar electronics is just another thursday.

later that night, when you stumbled back into your apartment—tiny, cramped, with the leaky faucet you never got around to fixing—eunji was waiting. the second you closed the door behind you, the facade cracked, you could finally breathe. you both screamed into pillows, half in disbelief, half in exhilaration, like teenagers who’d just pulled off the ultimate prank.

two days later, the laptop arrived. brand new, still in the box, with that fresh-out-the-factory smell.

you and eunji hovered over it like it was some kind of sacred artifact.

"i'll be damned," she said in amusement, hands on her hips.

with a shrug you add, "money talks."

you weren’t just scraping by anymore—you were winning. and that was just the beginning.

the next guy flew you out to milan for the weekend because you joked about never having seen italy. the one who “accidentally” upgraded your hotel suite to a penthouse overlooking the seine.

after that, the finance bro who bought you a cartier bracelet after a month of dating, saying it matched your “timeless beauty.” you still wore it sometimes, not because of him, but because it reminded you of the game you were playing—and winning.

they never really had you. you were always three steps ahead, smiling just enough, leaning in just close enough, keeping them wrapped around your finger while you stayed untouchable at a safe distance.

you and eunji would come home after these nights, collapse onto your couch, and laugh until your stomachs hurt. you’d trade stories like war veterans, compare gifts, and toast to the next big score with whatever cheap wine you had in the fridge.

it wasn’t just about the gifts. It was the thrill of it. the rush of knowing you were beating a system that was never designed for girls like you.

but the thing about dirt—it clings to you, even when you’re wrapped in silk and drowning in champagne.

they were predators, but so were you.

or at least, you learned to be.

it was in the lies you told, the masks you wore, the way you started to forget where the real you ended and the act began.

it was fun at first—a joke, a thrill. but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a game. the stakes got higher, the lines got blurrier, and you started wondering if you could ever really wash it all off.

because in this world, the glitter hides the grime. and the higher you climb, the harder it is to tell the difference.

this summer, you and eunji decided to take your two-woman show to monaco. the billionaire's playground.

back at your hotel room, both of you get ready. the faint hum of city traffic seeps in from the cracked window, mingling with the low hum of your shared playlist. your shared room smells like dry shampoo and overpriced perfume samples swiped from department store counters.

you each had a small collection of luxury items you took extra care of, only ever dry cleaning them and wearing them with the utmost care. you exchanged clothes when you wanted to switch it up, relying on each other to keep the ruse going.

your suitcase lies open on the bed, its contents meticulously arranged: the few luxury items you’ve both collected over the years like precious artifacts. a chanel blazer you snagged from a thrift store but had tailored to perfection, a pair of louboutin heels eunji found on ebay, scuffed on the sole but flawless everywhere else, a silk gucci scarf you both swear was a lucky find, even though you’re pretty sure it’s a knockoff.

eunji stands at the mirror, her hair twisted into loose waves, holding up two dresses; one black, one red. she eyes your reflection in the mirror.

"thoughts?"

you glance over from where you’re carefully steaming your blouse, a saint laurent that’s been dry-cleaned more times than you can count.

"the red says 'i own a yacht', but the black says 'i own the company that makes yachts'," you reply.

giggling, she sets the red dress back down to put the black on. "got it."

eunji moves to your side, rifling through your jewelry tray—the bracelet you share, the pearl earrings you got from that flea market but pretend are heirlooms.

grabbing the bracelet, she clasps it around your wrist with practiced ease.

"you wear this tonight. it matches you."

you nod, adjusting the bracelet on your wrist; your good luck charm. meanwhile, she slips into your heels. it’s routine by now, this exchange of identities, this careful curation of the personas you took on.

before heading out, you both step back to inspect each other in the mirror. you take turns doing a spin, making sure no left detail leaves way to reveal yourselves. one wrong move, one slip-up, and the illusion cracks.

word travels fast in this world, everyone is connected; the rich were very particular and serious about the company they keep. and you definitely couldn't afford to be blacklisted, shunned. not when you've come this far.

from the outside, you look like you belong to this world—lounging on fat trust fund bank accounts in tiny bikinis and piña coladas in your hands.

but only you and eunji know the truth; hiding in the tags carefully tucked away, credit card limits stretched thin, and whispered pep talks in hotel rooms like this one.

eunji grins, grabbing her clutch.

"eat the rich, baby."

and with that, you’re out the door, high on adrenaline, walking the thin line between who you are and who the world thinks you are.

fake it till you make it, right?

you never would have imagined faking it would get you invited to one of monaco's most famous fundraisers held for a-class actors celebs and trust fund babies.

the rooftop hums with soft jazz, laughter, and the faint clink of crystal glasses. dim lighting envelops the space, the kind that makes everything feel like a secret.

eunji grins, checking herself in a nearby mirror one last time. "you know, if we pull this off tonight, drinks are on me."

"if we pull this off tonight, drinks are on him." you shoot her a look, nodding to an older man at the bar. she laughs, playfully hitting you.

"i'm gonna be right back." eunji says, pointing to the bathroom.

with a smile and a nod, you make your way over to the bar. sitting down, you order a glass of wine.

you see her before she sees you.

she was elegant, poised, the kind of woman you'd see in old black and white movies. she also took a seat right next to you.

"i'll have what she's having" the woman motions her hands to the bartender, referring to you.

intrigued, you silently sip on your drink.

"i don't believe we've met," she starts, finally addressing you.

"there are many people here," you jest.

"and i know almost every single one of them," she says with a chuckle, one eyebrow raised. "i'm isla. isla montgomery."

as you exchange introductions, she makes small talk. you soon learn about her travels and the two companies she owns.

you don't share much about yourself, and she doesn't pry, either. it seems that she's very fond of herself; which is probably for the best.

feeling a tap on your shoulder, eunji finally graces you with her presence, two eons later.

giving isla an apologetic smile, you excuse yourself. mirroring your smile, she gestures for you to go, assuring you it's no worry.

"who was that?" eunji inquires as you both walk away.

"isla montgomery." you mock with a sarcastic tone and a roll of your eyes, glancing at eunji.

"very fancy," eunji laughs.

spotting a private blackjack table sits slightly apart from the crowd; you and eunji eventually make your way over there.

you watch as men with gold chains and women sprawled across their laps make starting bets with a few months' worth of rent, more or less.

lapping around the table from a distance, you slowly make note of their cards. their movements. their thought processes. you’ve been watching the table for an hour, quietly cataloging every tell, every mistake masked by arrogance and overpriced whiskey.

one guy was doomed the minute he was dealt his hand, a few couldn't bluff to save their lives.

either way; you already knew who would win.

about a half hour later, the result was as you had predicted.

"hey, i'm gonna tap in next round," you inform the croupier.

he nods, preparing your chips.

"what? are you serious?" eunji whisper-yells at you, lightly holding your arm to stop you. "there is no way you can go toe to toe against men who have nothing to lose! you'll be betting on your hard-earned life savings, for god's sake!"

"which is why i won't lose." you affirm.

confidence is everything in your world. it's what got you here in the first place.

"everyone at that table was horseshit. i think i have a fair shot."

"sounds like someone's confident," you hear a presence make itself known behind you.

turning around, your eyes meet the source of the voice.

a chiseled face, every line etched with precision; features carved like stone, softened by the warmth in his eyes.

a tall, well-groomed man who looks only relatively older than you and eunji.

not to mention incredibly sexy. and filthy rich, judging by the sheer amount of body jewelry he's wearing.

he raises a brow and nods his head towards the blackjack table, "think you can take my buddy taehyung?"

you follow his gaze to the blonde—taehyung. you remember him.

slick, confident, a little too eager when he thought no one was paying attention. one of the better ones, but still horseshit.

"how much you wanna bet?"

there’s no pause. no calculation. just the soft clink of his glass against the marble bar as he sets it down and says,

"i'll bet a million on you, golden girl."

the words hang there, heavier than the jazz, sharper than the city lights glittering below.

you blink, processing. you thought he was going to bet on his buddy. that’s how these games work; back your guy, show loyalty, play it safe.

but he’s not playing safe. he’s betting on you.

your pulse kicks up, but you don’t show it. instead, you lean in slightly, your voice low, laced with the same easy confidence he just threw at you.

"a million? you sure you’re not drunk?"

his grin is lazy, but his eyes are razor-sharp. "not drunk. just good at reading people"

you pick up your drink, letting the cool glass ground you, then glance back at taehyung. "let's see what blondie's got."

a million. jesus.

these people really have nothing better to do with their money.

despite your shock, you were just glad you didn't have to bet with your own money.

you move toward the table, every step deliberate, like you’ve already won. in reality, you were just trying to fathom what you got yourself into.

showtime.

you're not supposed to be here. not at this party, not at this table. but here you are, sliding into the empty seat like you own it, your dress catching the light just enough to look expensive. despite your internal panic, you don't fidget. that’s the rule. act like you belong, and no one will question it.

and never, ever show weakness. the lions won't hesitate to pounce.

you play with calm precision, not reckless but with just enough boldness to stir curiosity. you don't count cards, you read people.

betting when others hesitate, folding with a slight smirk like you know more than you let on.

years of quietly observing wealth were being put to the test, at this very moment.

you’re dealt a 9 of hearts and a 6 of spades; that’s 15. not great.

taehyung has a face card showing: an 8 of diamonds. strong position.

you get another card: 5 of clubs. now you’ve got 20—almost perfect.

everyone expects you to stand. it’s the smart move.

but you don’t.

you tap the table. "hit me."

gasps ripple around the table. the dealer hesitates, then deals. 9 of spades. you bust with 29. game over.

taehyung smirks as he plays his hand, thinking you’re reckless. jeongguk watches closely, his interest sharpened.

"guess i was feeling bold," you say, flashing a sheepish smile.

everyone assumes you've made a rookie mistake. they laugh it off, but in that split second, you've done something much more subtle: you've read taeyhung's body language.

he doesn't leave himself open for too long, immediately putting his poker face back on.

but you've already seen it—that tiny flinch in his jaw when you hit on 20. he wouldn’t have risked it. he’s cautious, calculated. but now? now you’ve thrown him off balance.

you've watched him closely, just long enough to notice the tiny flinch when you hit on 20. he doesn’t want to take risks like you did—he’s more cautious—but his pride won’t let him stand back and let you crash and burn. he watches you, and that tiny hesitation is all you need.

so when he faces a similar hand, he hesitates; like you had expected.

your words from earlier echo in his head: "the bold move is the smart move."

the smart move is to stand. but the weight of his friend's million-dollar bet on you lingers in the air, clouding his judgement. he starts to second guess himself.

taehyung knows he can't lose here, not after all the bluster. he should stand, but he feels the weight of the moment. it’s too much.

looking around, he tries to read the room.

taehyung picks up on the tension. if you're confident enough to risk hitting on 20, maybe you know something he doesn’t.

you smile next to him, tilting your head like you've already won.

his ego can't handle it.

and so he taps.

pushing away your chips, you get up. as you rise from your seat, you lean down, voice low enough for only him to hear.

"you play the cards. i play the player."

it hits him right as the dealer flips taehyung’s hidden card. he had 15, just like you did earlier. thinking you were reckless, he copied your moves.

he hit when he should’ve stood—

—and bust.

jeongguk chuckles quietly, not surprised.

"she's good."

you walk back over to him. leaning back against the bar, a slow grin spreads on his face.

"i didn’t bet on you to win the hand. i bet on you to win the game."

and you did.

maybe not the blackjack game, but you won the game.

leaning into his ear, you whisper, "what's a million anyway, right?"

with a soft triumphant smirk, you straighten up and walk away.

next >

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taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw

[glamourscat]

VANITAS x !VAMPIRE READER HCS

i am one day late but hbd to my fav non vamp that looks and acts more like a vamp than the vamps in his own show

• absolutely HATED that you were another vampire hanging around noè at first. "oh merveilleux, another bloodsucker with a hero complex"

• gets increasingly irritated that you can see right through his act sometimes. you'll just give him this knowing look when he's being particularly dramatic and he DESPISES it (but also kind of doesn't?)

• if you have some kind of “power” like noè does, he will be secretly fascinated by how different you are from other vampires he's met. keeps trying to study you "for research" but really he's just making excuses to be around you

• absolutely loses it when you team up with noè to mother-hen him about his health. "i don't need TWO vampires telling me to sleep!"

• loves riling you up just to see your eyes flash red. will make increasingly outrageous statements just to get a reaction

• gets weirdly quiet when you talk about your childhood with noè. definitely not jealous. nope. not at all. (he's totally jealous)

• gets VERY flustered when you use your vampire strength to pick him up or protect him, but tries to play it off with his usual dramatics

• absolutely despises how you can tell when he's actually hurt vs when he's being dramatic. "stop looking at me like that, i'm FINE"

• has definitely stayed up all night reading your name in the blue moon records multiple times, but will never admit it

• gets oddly soft when you fall asleep near him during research sessions, but will immediately return to his usual self if anyone catches him looking

• Will subtly, or not so subtly, hint at you to drink his blood more than once. and when you do it? Well let’s just say if you two are a match, he won’t be quiet lmao

• noè finds your whole dynamic hilarious and keeps "accidentally" leaving you two alone together

BLURB UNDER THE CUT

The first time you met Vanitas, you'd nearly thrown him out a window.

"Noè," you'd said, holding the struggling human by his collar, "why is there a suspicious man with your book?"

"Put me down this instant, you bloodsucking menace!" The dark-haired man had thrashed in your grip, blue eyes flashing with indignation. "I am the great Vanitas, and that book is rightfully mine!"

You'd turned to Noè, unimpressed. "Can I throw him out the window?"

"Please don't throw my friend out the window, mon amie," Noè had laughed, looking far too amused. "He really is the owner of that book, the book of Vanitas."

You looked at Noè, eyebrow up. Looking between him and the short human. Book of vanitas. But that’s the blue moon vampire. This guy looks everything but a vampire.

Eventually, you set him down. Rather gently, all things considered.

"Your concern for my wellbeing is touching," Vanitas had said sarcastically , straightening his clothes with exaggerated care. "Tell me, do all vampire childhood friends of Noè's manhandle innocent humans, or am I just special?"

"Only the suspicious ones who smell like lies and… cheap cologne."

His eye had twitched. "Charming. Noè, you didn't tell me your friend was so... direct."

"(Y/N) has always been rather protective," Noè had smiled that knowing smile of his. "You two will get along splendidly."

You'd both turned to him with identical looks of horror.

"We absolutely will not—"

"I'd rather drink holy water—"

But Noè had just kept smiling, and somehow... somehow he'd been right. Though you'd both rather die than admit it.

Even now, months later, as you watched Vanitas patch you up, while complaining under his breath something along the lines of "ungrateful bloodsucker," you couldn't help but smile amused. He caught your stare and scowled.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," you said innocently. "Just admiring your terrible manners."

"I could let you bleed out next time, you know."

"No, you couldn't."

His scowl deepened because you were right. You were always right about him and he hated it. Or maybe not. But you didn’t had to know that.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[deesseshesca]

PILE 1

He’s veiny hands, he’s strong bicep, he’s tattoo and the fact that everything he does screams masculinity. He’s amazing knowledge in alcohol or the fucking way he drive a car with so much assurance. His signature perfume and the way he never talks loud but always what's right. Did you ever find a man in finance this secure in himself with no God complex…yeah no that doesn't exist. But it's only right that he feels for you. The more I spend time observing you … I understand why he's falling… I am 2 .. I guess. Let’s start by the creativity that breathes out of you with everything you do. Is like you are in love with the whole woman's experience which can be seen by the way you take care of your hair ; long and healthy. You don't just stop there, you color them and style it  anytime you want. The freckles that decorate your face like you are living painting. Your perfect nose and small but luscious lips. Is the way you are fine ot being everyone's type and you don't care to change. You with your long and beautifully manicured nails. The way you love on your body unapologetically even though is not the standard in modern beauty. You never complain about your boobs being too big, your butt being too small or even your hips being too wide. Nah you wear whatever you want. Flowing dress, deep cut shirt with no bra not caring that your tits are sagging. What makes you even more intrigued is the complexity that lives beneath your beauty, elegance and confidence. You fucking love cars, passionate about it. I would have never guessed it, I would think you were an artist or even a mua but nah mamacita is trying to become an engineer. Is almost like life never hurted, never controlled, never took the best out of you. You decide to be your own person no matter what and your authenticity can be seen, admired, and envy by many including me. In my case I was pushed into this bimbo character. Need to act, look and be alway perfect since I could remember. Making sure to eat properly so I don't gain to much weight, making sure to message my skin so my boob dont sag, make sure to shave everywhere on my body, make sure to straighten my curls because curly ain't sexy, making sure to never skip a leg day so the butt stay juicy, making sure to have a clear skin. And it does not stop there … making sure I moan seductively, make sure I know how suck good, making sure I am submissive enough. I did it all to please … the one I want to stay unimpress while the other treats me like lesser women because all they can think of is having sex. Actually you guys are so cute together, the way you like to act like you don't see him applying  pressure. Always touching you any chance he gets, always looking at you across the room, always having your back when you need a ride back home even when the party's at his place. While you tease him, give him kisses across his face every so often, while giving him compliments with your beautiful voice, seducing him by your healthy femininity. Today, in the bathroom, too may drink in my system, hiding in the bathroom writing this fucking email … I must admit that you have influence me. Because the man I love, loves you for you. Not a version of you made to please, made to seduce, made to only be relevant for the other sex. Maybe it is time for me to admit that all this is in vain … because being the standard did not make me pick, choose or even love. In all fucking honesty I am tired to prove that I am nice enough, fun enough, sexy enough, kind enough … Fuck… can I not just be enough ? (tears on the screen, somebody calls her name) 

Fuck is not like you are even going to read this anyways…

VIBES: New beginning, fresh start, new couple, love at first sight, red string theory, ant get enough of each other, a lot of tension and chemistry and perfect match. 

A lot of people are happy y’all find each other because you were both unfulfilled in love.

[helinyetille]

could a fellow schnaul girlie recommend some schnaul ficssss 😋

Hi dear! Your fellow Schnaul girlie will be happy to help 🥰🌈 Today is my birthday, and I’m going to treat myself and hopefully you too with some amazing works about Paul and Schneider!

✦ Synchronized by Arrestzelle (@babypaulchen)

A very sweet and gentle one shot set in Sehnsucht era. I’m super into body worship fics and anything that has that cozy vibe of intimacy and familiarity, and if that's your thing too, I'm sure you'll enjoy this story!

✦ Отличная же идея?.. by Limlis

I read this fanfic on a different site, but you should have heard the scream I scrumpt when I stumbled upon it on AO3. It’s my absolute favorite, and if you happen to speak Russian, you should read it. The story takes place before the recording of Reise, Reise, and here, Paul and Schneider take a road trip to Spain while also trying to figure out their feelings for each other. This fic checks all the boxes for me, and that’s why I love it so much (as well as other Paul/Schneider stories by Limlis) 🖤

✦ Terrarium by Ms_Nerd (@ms-nerd)

A well-written and compelling one shot set in LIFAD era. I’m in love with @ms-nerd's writing. If you are more interested in the platonic side of Paul and Schneider's relationship, then you should definitely check out this story!

✦ Golden Brown by astrella_noctis (@astrellanoctis)

Okay, I admit, I’m a real sucker for the good old admiring from afar and yearning. Ironically, this trope might be my golden brown, my own personal brand of heroin. If you're into it too, then this is a must-read from me!

✦ führe mich, halte mich by Trent_In_A_Tree

Ah, yet another story that I enjoy, particularly because of top!Paul. Also, my Schneider may not be your Schneider (and that is totally fine!), but despite his Taurean love of luxury, which has been super obvious in recent years, I like to imagine him as a humble man :) That’s why I really like how the author wrote him as a somewhat shy and submissive guy in this story.

✦ Du riechst so gut by Menfinske

A kinky one shot inspired by Schneider’s scarfs 😈 Bonus points for well-written, realistic description and overall dynamic between Paul and Schneider.

✦ Let Me See You Stripped by christophspowerstance

Another kinky one shot, but this time featuring our beloved queen Frau Schneider. This one is so well-written, and it left me craving more. I'm totally guilty of imagining what might happen after the events of the story 😏

✦ Rock Star

A fun, slightly voyeuristic one shot written from Till’s POV.

✦ The Never-Ending Night by Arrestzelle

First, I recommend everything written by Arrestzelle. Like, seriously. The writing is always beautiful, the smut is always steamy, and the characters are always lovely. Second, this particular story stuck with me because, aside from a really hot sex scene, the relationship between Paul and Schneider is so full of love and adoration – just the way I like it. Also, there is something beautiful about the completion of a circle. I started my list with a wonderful fic by Arrestzelle, and I'm ending it in the same way (but not really, if you look at the fic title) 🤲🏻

[ruinme-please]

Who’s the most gorgeous drum king?

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[jackass-jones]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | last. long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Eastern Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

🏷️ taglist

@myahfig4 @yoyo-yui @luna-v-roiya @animemanwhamangalover @hotvinimon @anpacax0 @fullwriterpoem @an-ever-angry-bi @tazuduck @alexatiu @washeduphasbeen @theiridescentdragon @aquamarine001 @saucypeanuttt @captainchrisstan @artist1936 @paprikaquinn @megumisthirdog @whatshernameis @moonjellyfishie @spn-obession @poopooindamouf @hhk-jyon @ittomain1 @kalulakunundrum @risuola @jossayuuu @wiccanindigo @alwaysfreakingout @a-trashbag @wannapizzamymindposts @roscpctals99 @chxrv @tnu-ree @sov-sin @estella-novella @homewhereitsat @manyno @coffeeluvr96 @taeminfaerie @inluvkai @mellowarcadefun @sxnkuna @nerdiellers @krokietino @tttttttf @dumb-hore @snore-3 @leopoldonfire @uziwork @hyori2 @gojoful @wr4inn @nnasv @oidloid @deeeeexx

[velvrei]

Okay okay okay okay we know Logan isolates himself because of the guilt he carries from his previous timeline, a total loner for who knows how long since he has a longer lifespan. Then after the mission with Wade, he meets you, he develops feelings and it’s like man, everything you do turns him on. It’s been such a long time since he’s had this sort of contact, and he realizes he’s starving of it and it feels he’s always horny now. He’s fighting demons even just looking at you. I’m not sure exactly how to phrase this as a request, but can you add more to it :3

anything you do turns logan on (18+)

logan was not an open person when it came to sex.

so that’s why he was astounded by you. everything you did made him horny, and he couldn’t help it one bit. he was starving, and he needed you.

so that’s how you ended up in his bed, riding him, hands on his chest. he looked up at you in all your glory, admiring the beautiful woman on top of him. he realized he was starving and hungry for you, and god, the way you rate him feel was such a rare thing for him. he was so worried to mess it up.

he watched you bounce on him, moaning with you as his head fell back, you were so young compared to him. he felt so lucky to have such a gorgeous girl like you riding his cock and making him feel good.

you smiled down at him, shooting him a wink that you knew would send his body to shivers. you rode him, bouncing up and down as his cock hit all the deep spots inside of you.

“so fucking big,” your words took him off guard, but when he realized what you’d just said he let out the loudest moan you ever heard from him.

he was too worried that he was too old for you, but little did he know that’s what you wanted. you wanted him.

“so fucking big, and so strong. bet you could just throw me around, fuck,” you say, eyes scrunching shut as he watches you, astonished.

he moaned at your words, slowly realizing that you loved how strong and much older he was. it meant more experience in your eyes, and that’s exactly what you needed.

“god, baby, don’t know why you’re worried. all those little boys fucked me like pussies. now here you are, fucking me like a real man. even when i ride you. so fucking big you don’t even have to do anything and i’m already about to cum.”

your words made him almost whine. the thing he had been worried about, which you just confirmed was absolutely not true. you needed ALL of him. no matter how old he was.

[beloveds-embrace]

Okay what if (and stop me if I'm wrong here I'm new to A/B/O) the guys see someone flirting with the designation-less reader and they start subtly start marking them with pheromones to tell everyone else to back off?

I love this idea so much ugh 😩 scenting in the omegaverse always makes me so jdjsjen and no worries! Nothing about what you said is wrong and welcome to the blessed cursed space that is a/b/o

Original post

It started with Price and Ghost stepping into the armory.

You hadn’t noticed them at first, too focused on trying to edge away from the overly friendly Alpha soldier who just wouldn’t take the hint, no matter how disinterested you made sure you looked. He was leaning in closer than necessary, voice dropping lower with each word like he was trying to make the conversation feel more personal. Though your nose picked nothing, you just knew he was probably, likely, drowning the area with his stench.

You didn’t know how to stop it without making a scene. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong- just too many compliments, too much interest in your plans after hours, too much weight in the way he said your name. It left you off balance, unsure if you were imagining the tension curling low in your stomach. Unpleasant tension, as if youmd accidentally eaten spoiled food.

These days, it seemed as if you either garnered no attention, and when you did, it was unwelcome attention. At least it was different and far more pleasant with the 141.

“So, love, I was wondering-“

Then Price cleared his throat.

It wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like a gunshot, sharp and commanding. Both you and the soldier froze, heads snapping toward the sound, and there he was- Captain Price, standing in the doorway like he owned the entire building, eyes locked right on the man in front of you.

Ghost was just behind him, silent and still as a shadow, but the weight of him filled the room like a second presence- dark, heavy, watching, shoulders tense like Price. You’ve been with them long enough to tell when they are angry based on body cues, and right now, that’s what they were.

Not for the first time, you wondered just what they’d smell like. Would it be heavy and harsh on your nose? Somehow, you doubted it. Then again, Soap did tell you that angry Alphas smell like burnt rubber most of the time.

You eyed the way your… admirer’s nose wrinkled, jaw tight, eyes shifting around.

You hoped it smelled worse.

The soldier stumbled over a few words before making an excuse to leave. He didn’t even try to finish the conversation- rude- and barely managed to keep his composure as he slipped out the door.

Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your shoulders relaxed slightly as you turned to thank them- but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way they were now looking at you.

It wasn’t anger, exactly. It was something… sharper. Something that made your pulse quicken and your palms feel clammy, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong.

But then Price strode towards you and nodded, low and firm, clasping a hand on your shoulder, and Ghost lingered just long enough to brush his shoulder against yours before following him out the door.

… weird Alphas.

“Weird Alphas.” You said outloud as well, huffing.

You thought that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

It was subtle, so subtle that you almost didn’t notice at first.

Soap was the easiest to miss, playful and touchy by nature so much so even one as people-averse as you were comfortable next to him by now. He slung an arm over your shoulders whenever you were nearby, leaning into your space like it was nothing. He’d linger there just long enough that your skin was warm before pulling away, flashing you a knowing grin you didn’t understand.

Gaz was more deliberate. He’d pass you things- gear, water bottles, paperwork, pens- and his fingers always brushed yours and lingered. Small steady touches, leaving traces of his warmth on everything he handed you, leaving traces of his warmth on your skin. When you worked together, he’d lean in close enough that his presence settled over you, wrapping around your skin like a second layer. Your shoulders and thighs would touch, and sometimes you swore you could feel a deep purr coming from him.

Price didn’t touch you often, but when he did, it lingered and was acutely felt. A hand at the small of your back to guide you through a crowded hallway. A warm palm resting against your shoulder during debriefings, right where your faulty scent glands are. Solid, steady touches that felt heavier than they should’ve- clearly intentional even to the likes of you, and yet you didn’t want to really, truly acknowledge them.

And Ghost- Ghost was the worst.

He didn’t say a single word when he draped his jacket over your shoulders after a long, rain-soaked training session, the heavy fabric still warm from his body and shielding you from the wafting chill. You’d tried to give it back later, but he pushed it into your hands with a low, demanding “Keep it.” That left no room for argument. You didn’t think much of it at first- just a practical gesture- but you caught the way the others looked at you after, the raised brows and faint smirks that made you second-guess what it really meant, especially when you found yourself wearing it long after the cold had faded. You’d tried wearing your own jacket, but the look he gave you had you sighing, leaving, and returning to wearing his.

You didn’t understand it at first, didn’t recognize it for what it was. But others did.

It was possessive. Territorial.

The stares started- quick, assessing glances from the other soldiers that led to widened eyes. People moved out of your way in the hallways, gave you more space than before. Conversations shifted when you walked into a room, voices dropping, eyes darting toward the men who always seemed to hover just behind you.

You didn’t know what to make of it.

And then Soap grinned at you over lunch one day where you wearing a shirt of John’s now and Ghost’s jacket, leaning close enough to bump his shoulder against yours, and said, “Looking good, bonnie. Don’t think anyone’s stupid enough to try sniffin’ around you now.”

It took you a second too long to process what he’d said. When you finally did, your eyes darted toward the others- toward Price, who didn’t even look up from his plate, and Gaz, who only smirked and in your shock, slipped the bracelet he was wearing on your wrist. Toward Ghost, who met your gaze with something dark and unreadable before leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t affected at all. No; he was satisfied, like a smug bear.

You swallowed.

It should’ve felt suffocating, overwhelming, but it didn’t.

It felt… safe. Secure in a way you didn’t know how to explain. The guy that had been bothering you had even requested a transfer.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t call them out on it.

But later, when Price pulled you in his face and rubbed his face, his chin and beard all across your neck, you didn’t move away.

The “good girl” you got was all you could think about hours later.

[trivia-yandere]

sentient

you're gifted a high-technology android by an old friend who appears to know everything - even about you.

@investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @ultimatebasura @

word count: 12.513

warning: smut, dirty talking, cyborg namjoon duh, nipple sucking/pinching, face-riding, oral sex, fingering, dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie, intense orgasming, possessive namjoon duh, carbon monoxide poisioning, yandere tendancies, character death(s)

halloween masterlist

“Seriously?” you sigh with an arched eyebrow. “I don’t think I can handle anymore of your science bullshit.”

“Science bullshit?” Karan scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “You should be honored to get all of my science bullshit for free. What I give you can go for thousands!”

You’ve known Karan since grade school and he hasn’t changed a bit. His skin remained the same deep russet color, his eyes just as dark and kind but determined. His dark hair often grew out past his shoulders, and when it did, it told you that he was working on something that took up all his time.

Sure, Karan grew taller and his voice deepened a bit. He decided that when he wasn’t - in your words - emerged in his science bullshit, he did go to the gym and bulked from the once scrawny boy you remember. However, that didn’t change that he was a geek, a term of endearment. 

You should have expected Karan to be at your doorstep with his hair as long and thick that’s tied in a low ponytail in the back. It meant he was working on something that took all of his time - and it meant he wanted you to be the test dummy, of course. 

“Karan,” you let out a breath. “what’s in the box that it took you and 6 of your geek ass colleagues-”

“Y/N!” Karan gasps, his head turning to said colleagues who are awkwardly standing by your front door. “Lower your voice.”

“Karan.”

“Right.” Karan claps his hands. The box is large and wooden and stands taller than him. It was a struggle to even get it through the door - hence 7 men had to bring it in - but they managed. “This is my gift to you.” Karan says, turning around to go to open the box.

“A gift?” you scoff, though you give Karan hell, you do appreciate his friendly gestures. “Or am I just a test subject?”

“Both.” Karan answers with a snort. The wooden frame opens and you nearly jump out of your skin when you witness what was inside of it. “This is-”

“What the fuck is that!” you screech, your skin crawling with goosebumps.

“If you would shut the fuck up, Y/N, and let me speak.” Karan hisses. “This is an android.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to not let out another scream when Karan takes a step back to admire his work.

The android was so lifelike and it frightened you. It’s tall - taller than Karan or any of the other 6 men he brought here. Your eyes zone in on it’s face - it was so lifelike that it’s uncanny. 

“Why don’t you have a closer look before I turn him on.”

“Karan,” you shake your head instantly. “this is too much.”

Karan lets out a groan. “Y/N, be mindful. Androids so lifelike go out for thousands of dollars. This is the first official model and-”

“And of course you want me to experience a heart attack day and night, huh?!” you hiss, your eyes unable to move away from the life-like robot. You take a deep breath and try to do as Karan says and be mindful. “Karan, I don’t think I can handle something like this.”

“Why not?”

“I…” you shake your head. You aren’t aware when the last time any man - unless it was Karan - entered your home. Knowing you, you’d forget about the robot all together until you wake up in the middle of the night for some water and see it there. You’d probably die on the spot - that or try to attack it which would force the robot to kill you.

“You’re thinking too much into it, Y/N.” Karan speaks, probably reading your thoughts just by looking at the terrified look on your face. “I’ll meet you guys back at the lab, okay? I should be able to get him started.”

“Karan, no.” you nearly pleaded with your friend as the other scientist lead themselves out of your home. 

“You’ll come to enjoy him, Y/N.”

“Him? You mean it?”  Did you sound offensive at the moment? It was an android and could they really have gender roles. 

“Him.” Karan corrects. “It’s a male android.”

“I don’t see how.” you murmur under your breath. 

“He has a dick.” Karan shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe if you had one inside of you-”

“Don’t go there, Karan. When’s the last time you-”

“Hello.”

You shriek once more when you hear the robot speak, a deep voice sounding throughout your small home. 

“Ah, hello. It didn’t take you long to power on.” Karan smiles. “Come, Namjoon, get out of the box, please.”

Your heart is racing and your fight or flight senses are activated. Your first thought is to indeed run - run far as you could to be away from him. “You…named him?” you murmur to Karan, your eyes glued to the android who does as Karan says.

“Namjoon named himself.” Karan explains. 

This wasn’t sitting right with your spirit.

“Namjoon, this is Y/N. The one I was telling you about.”

“Excuse me?” your eyes widened. What did Karan mean? It wasn’t as if the robot was a living, breathing person - he was created in a lab!

“It didn’t take me a week to create an android, Y/N. It took years of my time.” Karan glances at you. “I’ve programmed Namjoon just for you. Years of collecting data-”

“Karan.” you raise a hand to stop him from speaking. You shake your head. “What do you mean you…programmed it-”

“He.” Karan grits his teeth. 

“-for me?”

Karan takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you the whole truth for there was a possibility you’d be beyond freaked out, but he could tell you a fraction of it. 

“Namjoon know’s your likes and dislikes.” Karan begins. “He knows your allergies and just what to do if you have a reaction.”

“What…the fuck…?” your eyes widened. “Is this not a HIPAA violation?”

“Not when it benefits you, no.” Karan shakes his head. “I programmed Namjoon to be the perfect…” he tilts his head. “...assistant?”

You scoff.

“Like Siri or Alexa but…” Karan points at Namjoon. “...alive!”

You bring yourself to glance back at…Namjoon. He is tall, towering over both you and Karan. He’s waiting patiently, his eyes - a dark shade of brown - already on you. He offers a smile that causes your heart to jump once more. You notice that his cheeks are dimpled and he has a set of pearly white teeth.

“Take a closer look, Y/N. Touch him.” Karan insists, lightly patting your shoulder. “He doesn’t feel robotic.”

It takes you five minutes of hesitation, but you do. You touch the skin of his cheek and your eyes widened by how human he did feel. Warm to the touch, soft skin. You tilt your head. “Explain yourself, Karan.”

Karan swallows and chuckles to himself. He understands what questions you have and it’s easier to lie for your sake than to tell you the truth - being that Namjoon was once full human and doesn’t have any memories of his human life. Now he is more of what people consider a "cyborg". No, that would cause you to panic, and in return would cause Namjoon to, as well, as he is designed to protect and serve you.

“I can go on and on about my science bullshit to explain to you why Namjoon is so human-like, but that’ll only bore you.”

You groan at how right Karan was. You muster up the courage to continue to feel Namjoon and how human he truly was. His hair was soft and a shiny black color that matches perfectly with the cool and tan tone of his skin. 

“Doesn’t he feel like a man?” Karan questions. “We know you need one.”

“Fuck you, Karan.” you snatch your hand from Namjoon, who is eerily still and watching you. 

“No. Buuuut Namjoon can.” Karan cackles at your reaction.  “You’re going to hate me, Y/N, but we’re best friends, right?”

You swallow back your response. 

“I hacked into your devices. Namjoon knows…a lot about you.”

It takes you a moment to understand what Karan was insinuating. 

Your body heats up. “Karan!” you hiss, your hands turning to fists. 

“Y/N, you and I both know you need to get dicked-”

“Karan!” you hiss, the amount of times you had said his name in under an hour is insane.

“I’m leaving. Let me know if anything is out of order. There shouldn’t be seeing as Namjoon’s took years to perfect.” Karan smiles, making his way towards your front door. “Now, excuse me.”

You want to follow after Karan and punch his head in, but you decide not to. You take a few deep breaths. 

“Your heart rate is increasing.” Namjoon speaks, his voice causes you to yelp. “You should try calming yourself down.”

“Easy for you to say.” you murmur, more to yourself. You stand a little straighter, your heart continuing to race - something the android could sense somehow. You would be sure to ask Kanan how later. “I…I don’t know what to say.” you murmur awkwardly.

“That’s fine.” Namjoon chuckles so normally that it brings chills up your spine. “You don’t need to feel shy around me, Y/N.”

You swallow, body heating up once more. Curse the way Karan built this android. It’s noticeable that Namjoon was a special invention. He appeared so lifelike, carved beautifully, you’d admit. You pondered how his voice didn’t sound robotic, or even the way he speaks, blinks, smiles - everything. 

“I…I’m sorry.” you take a deep breath. “This may be a stupid question.”

“No question is stupid, Y/N.” Namjoon lightly shakes his head. “Ask away.”

“Do you…need to be charged?” 

Namjoon cracks a smile and shakes his head once more. “No. I do not.” he answers. “I do have a rest mode, however. I’ll allow myself to rest at times to recharge my system.”

You nod your head slowly and then bite your lip.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do?” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t want you to feel like my slave.” you attempt to joke.

“I was made to serve you, Y/N. Ask anything of me and I’ll do my best to achieve it.”

Namjoon was so human-like. 

Karan explained in scientific terms as to why and that only caused more confusion - but in simpler terms, he explained that Namjoon was similar to a digital assistant like an Alexa or Siri, of course. He “adapted” to your likes and dislikes and modern society. He studied how men (the ones you were attracted to, how Karan knew this was beyond you) around his age - late 20’s - would talk and walk. 

No one knew that Namjoon was an android - no one but you and Karan and of course, Namjoon himself. 

Living with Namjoon took a toll on you at first. You had woken up one day and forgotten that the android was there and had walked out in the middle of the night to find him. He was resting as he said he was, only this time leaning against the wall of your kitchen. You screamed at the top of your lungs and activated Namjoon who was programmed to think that an intruder was in the house. He had sensed your heart rate skyrocket and was prepared to attack - only he was said intruder.

After that night, you gave Namjoon his own room. You had used your spare bedroom as a storage and closet all at once, but if Namjoon was going to be here then you’d have to show some type of respect to him.

As time went on, you grew to enjoy Namjoon’s company. He often sat around and waited for you to need him. Having no partner meant that you were accustomed to being alone and thus doing things by yourself. When you couldn’t reach something, you weren’t opposed to jumping onto something to grab it or grabbing a chair. Namjoon came in handy in that department. 

Namjoon would also build your furniture - your entire bedroom set being one that you were grateful for. 

Namjoon took the liberty in ordering any necessities that were lowstock, along with groceries - Karan had managed to implement a chip that could save your data to Namjoon so he could do it internally. You’re still unsure how you feel about it, but for now you’re sure it works.

One thing you learned about Namjoon, being an android, was his desire to gain more knowledge. He would often read books. You had allowed him to order as much as he wanted since he was a help to you the past few months - and he appeared content. He would tell you what he read about, albeit fiction or nonfiction, you’d listen.

“There’s no way you can get any smarter, Namjoon.” you said to him one day as you catch him reading yet another book - this time a math one that would hurt your brain if you’d attempt to look through it.

“Knowledge is power, Y/N.” was the android’s response.

As for Namjoon, he was content with living with you. He got to make sure you were safe and always assured that you were up to date with any doctor appointments. He would keep track of any reminders you’d tell him - “call so and so later,” “don’t forget to take the meat out the freezer at this time”, “call Karan to annoy him” and so on.

Namjoon doesn’t tell you that he knows more about you - deep facts that you would probably never tell anyone. He doesn’t want to embarrass you and cause your heart rate to grow high, so he doesn’t tell you. Like how he doesn’t tell you that he can hear everything - especially the buzzing noises at night when you play with yourself mixed with soft, but oftentimes disappointed moans. He recalls the time when your heartbeat became quick as you were going to cum just for the vibrator to die - how disappointed you must’ve felt.

Namjoon knocks on your door five minutes after your shower once he’s sure that you are dressed - his eyes could see past the closed door and into your bedroom when he knows you’re rubbing lotion onto your already soft skin. You’re dressed for bed, as well, in shorts that barely cover yourself and a tank top with one of the straps missing as you’ve grown to love the old top.

“Joon,” you furrow your brows as you open the door. “is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Namjoon nods. 

“You don’t usually seek me out this late at night. You’re usually resting.” 

“You’ve been working hard the last few days.” Namjoon responds. “There’s knots in your neck.”

You sigh with a short nod of your head. “You’re right. I’ve been working overtime lately.” you explain. “I’m glad the clothes I got fit you. I wasn’t sure what size to get.” your eyes scan the pajamas he wore - a simple plaid pajama pants with a dark color shirt. Namjoon insisted that you buy him simple pajama’s wear so he could be as human as possible.

“Thank you.” Namjoon offers a dimple smile that causes your heart to beat faster - he senses it. “Would you like a massage?”

“Uh…what?” your body heats at the sudden question. “You never asked me that before.”

“Indeed I haven’t.” Namjoon tilts his head. “But I sense that the knot in your neck is causing you discomfort. I don’t want you to sleep like that, you might wake up even worse.”

You take a deep breath with a shrug. You’re sure he was right - he was the artificial intelligent android that knew everything, not you. 

“I don’t want to treat you like a slave, Joon.” you joke, but even you were curious about how a massage would be. Namjoon’s hands were large and you pondered how they would feel on you.

Namjoon smiles once more. “I was made to serve you, Y/N.” he murmurs, so low that it catches you off guard. “If you do not want me to then I will not force it. But please never feel as though you are a burden to me.”

A massage wouldn’t be bad, right? Sure, Namjoon was hot - you curse Karan for making something like him - but he was an android. Surely he didn’t feel the things a human could and wouldn’t jump at any sexual opportunities.

“Why not?” you sigh, opening your door wider for him to enter your room. “I do have a few knots and my back has been killing me lately.”

“I have watched massage videos while you showered.” Namjoon speaks. “To perfect my craft.”

“Of course you have.” you laugh to yourself. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

You’ve gotten used to Namjoon being able to control most of the devices in your home - like the lights. He dims them as he enters your room and for your speakers, he adds a soft melodic tune. “For you to be comfortable.”

You lay as Namjoon advises you to, on your stomach with a few of your pillows beneath you to not be in discomfort.

You had to admit that Namjoon was good with his hands, and even that wasn’t much of a compliment. He works his thumbs right into your neck, massaging out any knots he sees. 

Your eyes were growing heavy and Namjoon senses how relaxed you are, mind clear. He works his hands onto your back, rubbing along your spine and sides. Your breathing is low and steady, an ultimate sign of how relaxed you were.

Namjoon’s hands go lower and lower, massaging your tense muscles with the perfect amount of pressure that you couldn’t help but moan low to yourself, unbeknownst that Namjoon could hear every sound.

“Feels nice?” Namjoon questions softly, both hands gently massaging past either side of your hips. He offers a firm squeeze before working his way down to your thighs.

“Mhmm.” you hum, cheek pressed firmly against your soft pillows. “It feels nice.”

“You are relaxed. I can sense your heartbeat.” Namjoon states as he often does, giving you updates about your own body that he appears to understand more about than you do. 

“Thank you.” you mumble. “I’ve been stressed lately. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Namjoon slightly nods his head with a bit of a tilt.  “I have.” he responds, his hands massaging down your calves and slowly back up your outer thighs. “I could assist you if you’d like.”

You snort. Though your eyes were heavy and you could truly fall asleep like this, you decided against it. Namjoon was a good conversationalist. “Help me with work?” you question, though rhetorically. “I’ll just take some personal time to relieve some stress.”

“I could assist you in relieving stress. Though, if you’d like me to help in your field of work, I would be happy to do that, as well.”

“What do you mean?” you question, genuinely confused. 

Namjoon is silent for a moment, and in his silence you begin to ponder what he was speaking of. 

Namjoon’s hands are large and warm - he hasn’t admitted that he could radiate his own heat, another sensor that Karan has put in him in case, in any instant, you needed it. They slide past your ass in massage movements and it catches you off guard that your eyes slowly open, but you remain silent. 

Namjoon’s hands don't linger as he can sense your quicken heartbeat and he begins to massage up your lower back.

“I believe you’re stressed out, yes, but more than you lead on.” Namjoon finally speaks. 

“Namjoon-”

“I could help you, if you’d like. I know whatever toy-”

“Namjoon!” you’re embarrassed now and immediately, you get up from your laying position to turn to look at the android. His eyes appear curious instead of soulless like they should be for an android. “I…I don’t know what…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “I know you’re left disappointed with your vibrator.” he says bluntly. “I can sense it everytime.”

Your blood runs cold and now you’re left truly embarrassed. Namjoon could sense when you were…you wanted to die. 

Curse Karan for creating such an advanced android.

“I want to help you…cum.” Namjoon’s system assists in finding the right words that would be considered “modern” and not too scientific to turn you off. “I would like to help you cum.”

“I-I don’t think that’s n-necessary!”

“Why not?” Namjoon questions. “I won’t die like your vibrator would.

Your legs clench together and you gasp in disbelief. He knew about that, too?

“You’re embarrassed. There’s no need to be. I’m here to serve you, Y/N. Like Karan said, I know what you like.”

Fuck Karan - again and again. He has hacked into your devices and showed poor Namjoon what you watched on whatever porn site. It couldn’t be considered what you wanted to happen to you, because at times you did watch some hardcore shit.

You take a deep breath.

“I…” 

“If you don’t like it,” Namjoon sets his palm upon your bare thigh and you visibly stiffen. “then I’ll stop, just tell me.”

This was crazy, you think. Namjoon is an android and you didn’t want to treat him like a sex robot. You imagined only incels would do that - but here you were contemplating it. It doesn’t help that Namjoon felt so human - his skin was as soft as a human. Warm at the touch, as well. He was carved so perfectly that it’s hard to believe that this wasn’t a human man before you.

“O…Okay.” you meekly murmur, innocent eyes staring right back at him.

Namjoon works his way towards you slowly. He tests to see what causes your heart to jolt. His hands gently push you back against the pillows as he hovers above you. 

“Remember, Y/N, I was made for you.” he reminds you.

Namjoon allows his hands to place themselves along your breast, not hesitating. You are stiff, silently watching as he gently rubs them. You weren’t wearing a bra - you never wear one to bed - and it’s easy for him to do what he does next.

Namjoon sneaks his way inside your tank top to grasp your breast. Your nipples are hardened almost instantly. His thumbs rub along the sensitive bud, dark eyes flickering to you.

“Feels good?” Namjoon whispers, but he already knows it to be true. 

You slowly nod your head.

Namjoon continues to rub along your breast, often pinching and twirling them between his thumb and index finger.

You fight back the moans, eyes watching Namjoon between your eyelashes. Maybe it was because Karan was right - you haven’t been with a man for who knows how long. It causes great embarrassment that even Namjoon, an android, knows this, as well. 

“Relax.” 

Namjoon murmurs, coming a bit closer to you. 

“Treat me like you would another man.” Namjoon suggests. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just you  and I here.”

You nod your head slowly, biting your bottom lip. It’s easier said than done - how could you look at yourself in the mirror after this was done and over with? In the moment it’d feel amazing, sure, but once the high is down you’re positive you’ll feel like a complete freak of nature.

You lean forward, taking a deep breath. No one had to know that you were doing this - it’s something you’d take to your grave. Namjoon rarely left the house with you, and even then, his loyalty was with you, right? Maybe in ten years you’ll admit this to Karan, but until then…

“Can I…can I…” you bite your lip harshly, body heating up. “...kiss you? It’s um…it’ll be weird if I-”

“Yes.” Namjoon doesn’t hesitate, sensing your growing embarrassment and discomfort. 

You nod your head, unable to say anything further. You begin to lean forward, sitting with your legs crossed. You place a hand on Namjoon’s shirt, leaning even more towards him.

“You act as if you’ve never kissed a man before.” 

Namjoon is teasing you. There’s a glint in his eyes and a soft smirk on his lips. You want to roll your eyes at how typical Namjoon was for an android. Your hands snatch Namjoon’s loose shirt and force yourself to kiss him. 

Namjoon’s lips are soft, which shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. It’s eerily soft and it always has you pondering just how Namjoon was created; how someone could build Namjoon in just a few years.

“It's not so hard now is it?” Namjoon murmurs against your lips, offering another quick peck. 

“Shut up.” your response is muffled against Namjoon’s lips, an urge to continue your kisses upon them.  “I’m trying my best.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond - he knows you are doing just that. It’s a weird feeling for you, he’s sure, to feel how human he is. Skin as soft as yours, radiating the exact amount of warmth. He doesn’t maneuver as an android nor does he speak as one - it would freak anyone out.

“I think you’re still holding back.”

Namjoon is the first to speak, but he brushes his lips against yours for a moment before continuing. “Come,” he says, ushering you closer to him.

Come for Namjoon meant you sitting directly on top of him, your legs straddling him beneath you. You swallow as Namjoon places his hands securely onto your hips, tapping his fingers against them. 

“Now, let’s continue.” Namjoon pecks your lips once more, allowing you to adjust to the new position and to follow his lead.

It’s just as different as before, but again, you tell yourself that you have to see Namjoon as a man, and not an android. You have to trick your mind in thinking that Namjoon wasn’t someone created in a lab to assist you - maybe you met him…in a bar?

 No, too cliche, you tell yourself. Maybe at a cafe of sorts while he was reading a book. Namjoon enjoyed reading. 

It was easier for you to pretend Namjoon and you met in more normal circumstances for you not to feel like a total sexually frustrated woman. 

You’re unsure how long it’s been - five minutes and forty-six seconds, Namjoon knows - since Namjoon and you have been here. However, your tongue dances with his, your nails digging into his shoulders. His hands are roaming your body entirely, gripping and tugging at your clothing.

You admit it feels good to be touched like this - to be on top of Namjoon kissing without a care. 

“I want to make you feel good.” Namjoon speaks when the two of you - of course you since he didn’t need to - decides to halt your makeout session to breathe. 

Even knowing what you’re doing here would ultimately end with you and Namjoon doing something sexual, him stating such causes your stomach to jump with nerves.

“I…”

“You’re nervous. I can sense it.” Namjoon can hear your heart beating so loudly due to your nerves. He squeezes your hips and offers a low smile and even then his dimples sink deep into his cheeks.  

“No,”  you shake your head. It’s pointless to try and cover up your anxiousness from Namjoon as he could sense it regardless. Still, you’ve already gone this far and you’re sure you could stop now, but you didn’t want to. “...um, how do you want to do…that?”

Namjoon doesn’t respond and instead presses a peck onto your lips. He doesn’t linger there and instead begins to kiss further down, starting with your jaw. He goes towards your neck, fingers tapping up your waist to your lower back and eventually up your spine. It causes you to shiver, goosebumps prickling along your skin. 

Namjoon’s tongue is warm upon the nape of your neck, massaging your smooth skin. His teeth sink into your neck, grinding it only a bit to force a deep moan from your mouth -  exactly what he was looking for. 

“You’re very pretty, Y/N.”

Namjoon words catch you by surprise and slowly, your eyes open in response. Namjoon’s caught up with his kissing, going lower and lower. He can sense your body temperature rising only slightly, your heart beating so loud in your chest that it could be alarming if you didn’t bring yourself to relax.

“You act like you’ve never done this before.” Namjoon’s tone is teasing once more and you could only snicker. 

“You act like you have.” you retort with a raise of your eyebrow.

Namjoon scoffs. His eyes flicker upwards at you, your breast now in his face. You can see the gears in his mind - did Namjoon have a brain? You’d have to ask Karan another time - as he processes your words.

“I know how to pleasure you, Y/N.” Namjoon once more pokes his tongue out, trailing it along your breast teasingly. “I know exactly what you like for me to do.”

You swallow, biting your lip. You weren’t going to back down to the android. You have to hold your own. 

“Are you sure you’d be able to deliver?”

Namjoon doesn’t speak like you expect him to. Instead, his tongue - so warm and still human-like - wraps around your erect nipple. He latches onto it and continues to suckle. The action was so sudden that you yelped aloud. 

Namjoon makes no sign of backing down. It wasn’t as if he had to halt for air - an added bonus. The sensation never stops and it causes your hips to jerk involuntarily, your shorts sticking to you as you go to rub yourself against him.

You had such an abundance of questions that swirls through your head - since Namjoon was an android, he couldn’t possibly get an erection.

Unless, of course, it was already…

You release another moan - this time long and deep at just the thought of him already being erect. The thought that you could just mound him at any given moment causes you to clench around nothing.

Namjoon senses just how aroused you are, your arms now around his neck as he continues to suckle on your nipples. He now has both of them right his mouth, sucking with all his might. 

You’re rubbing yourself against him, wanting out of your shorts immediately. You could feel him - whatever it was beneath his pajama pants. You’re sure that it’s as real as the rest of Namjoon, more questions that you’ll leave unanswered as they were too complicated. 

Namjoon pops your nipples from his mouth, a string of warm saliva connecting the two together. Very slowly does the tip of his tongue lick along your nipple, siren-like eyes looking right up at you. 

Your pussy clenches again at the look of Namjoon, wishing he was deep inside of you with the same look on his face.

Fuck Karan and his creation, truly. 

“You want to ride my face?”

You’re positive you were leaking and it would all come out when you get out of these shorts. 

“I..I don’t…you’d let me do that?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Namjoon tilts his head. “I was made for you. You can cum all over me if you’d like.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how Namjoon speaks nonchalantly. Dare you say it was cute coming from an android.

“Would you like that?” Namjoon murmurs, further pushing himself back onto your bed. He’s certain that you would like it as you hadn’t stopped grinding against him the entire time. 

You nod your head hastily and Namjoon taps your back. You lift yourself all too quickly to remove your shorts and panties and toss them aside without a care.

 Namjoon reaches his arm out towards you and you take it. “I can hear your heart beating.” Namjoon licks his lips, those siren-like eyes flickering from your face to your exposed bottom half. “Come,”

You’ve never been in this position before. You’ve almost always received oral while on your back - but this was new. You shouldn’t be embarrassed because Namjoon wasn’t a regular man. You didn’t have to be ashamed of how you looked, seeing as - according to him and Karan - he was made for you. 

Namjoon’s fingers grip at your thighs to keep you in place and without much hesitation, his tongue dips between your folds. You jerk instantly at the newfound sensation, but you are unable to move. Namjoon makes sure of it.

Namjoon pleases you as if he’s the one receiving it, his tongue plunging deep between your folds and hammering right against your clit. Your hips are buckling, but he’d never allow you to be too far away from him.

Namjoon’s slurping is loud, but so are your moans. Your eyes are shut tightly because having to look down at Namjoon devour your pussy like a man starved was going to send you over the edge. 

“J…Joon, slow down.” you groan with a shake of your head. Your thighs are shaking, stomach sinking in as you inhale. “...I don’t wanna make a mess-”

Namjoon ignores you all together, squeezing hands jutting your hips against his tongue. His eyes watch your face closely, eyes zoning in on the way you’re struggling to breath while moaning. Your eyes are squeezed shut, refusing to look at him.

Namjoon wanted you to make a mess all over him - this is what he was made for. He was created to serve your every need and craving. He was the perfect being for you; attentive and caring. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you as his master.

“Joon, I don’t think-”

Your eyes snap open when you feel Namjoon enter you - his fingers. They’re as long as they look and they fill you up so nicely. It was a mistake to look at Namjoon beneath you because this sight would forever be embedded in your mind.

“Oh shit,” you groan as Namjoon's fingers pound inside of your pussy. Your arousal coats his chin and now is dripping down his wrist, but he makes no sign of stopping. 

With his free hand, Namjoon glides it up to grip your breast, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“You’re about to cum, aren’t you?” Namjoon hums, fingers curling into your pussy and hitting your spot with each thrust. “Talk, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…!” you shriek, thighs widening to feel more. You needed more of Namjoon - whatever and however much he was willing to give. “Please make me cum, Joon. Please…”

The gears are turning now in Namjoon’s head with the clear demands - no matter how polite - you give him. After all, he was made to serve you and only you. So, Namjoon does as he is told. He quickens his fucking into your pussy that it squelches off of the walls, juices flying out and soaking his chest.

Over the course of the next few months consisted of moments of you and Namjoon entangled together. The following night after you came - entirely too much and the hardest you’ve ever had - you woke to Namjoon massaging you. He had insisted that you needed another full body massage before he left your bedroom to start a bath for you.

It wasn’t awkward as you initially thought it would be and maybe that had something to do with Namjoon not being human. It was easier to get through your own embarrassment as he only appeared to be the lovable assistant he assured you he was created to be for you.

You found yourself going to Namjoon more often than not and of course, he was always willing. You thought that maybe you were taking advantage of the poor android and using his endurance for your own sick pleasure, but Namjoon comforted you. He would always encourage you to come to him for whatever needs you needed fixed.

And of course you had.

Namjoon had made you cum too many times to count; each time more intense than the last. Your legs would be left shaking and tears would be nearly streaming down your face due to pure pleasure. 

It was addicting and no matter how wrong it felt at times, you would always come back and return to Namjoon to make you feel good. He knew exactly how to speak to you and coach you through your orgasm. His voice would deepen in your ear, encouraging you to make a mess all over him - that it was okay to be doing this. 

Whatever Karan did to program Namjoon in understanding your own kinks was amazing and incredibly terrifying all at the same time. 

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks one Friday evening. He had sat by and cleaned while you were showering. His senses caught that you were using your more expensive body wash and lotions - the one you typically used when you were going out. He watched behind your closed door as you dressed in a short, black dress that was entirely too tight for you to ever sit comfortably in. 

“I, uh…” Namjoon senses your awkward laughter and he stops his scrubbing on the circular, glass bowl. The sink water runs as he awaits for you to answer, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I…I’m going on a date.” you respond. “A, uh, blind date.”

“A blind date.” Namjoon repeats without a blink in his eye - did Namjoon ever blink? 

“One of my co-workers set it up.” you look away for a moment. “Said she was tired of me being alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Namjoon continues washing the dishes, his eyes now leaving yours to focus on them. “I’m here.”

You smile.”I know you are.” you murmur. “But, she meant…someone human.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond and unlike him, you cannot sense anything. You weren’t an amazing creation like he was. He knew when you were going to be ill days before it even happened and he would prevent it. He learned how to cook by reading books carefully and assured that all your meals would be cooked for you right as he knew your stomach would start to churn. 

Namjoon was amazing for the little things, as well. He would order whatever you needed right before it went out. He assured that your bills were paid on time and would often run errands for you when needed be - he just wasn’t a sex toy to get your high off of. 

“I should be back tonight.” you trail off when Namjoon doesn’t say anything. You inhale. “Is something wrong?”

“Why do you ask?” Namjoon turns the water off and turns his eyes to look at you. 

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s nothing.” you mumble. You’re sure Namjoon didn’t feel any type of emotion and that wasn’t his fault. He knew how to display the idea of emotions when you needed him to. He would laugh at your jokes at times and be just as playful back, but maybe that was apart of how he was programed for you. 

“You do not know this man, right?”

You’re at the door when Namjoon finally speaks. “Right.” you respond, placing your heels onto your feet.

“Then would you like for me to accompany you?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” you giggle. “It’ll be hard to explain why I have another man with me.”

“You do not know him. What if he’s not who he says he is?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Joon.” you shake your head with a low grin. “I appreciated it.”

“I do have to worry about you, Y/N. I wasn’t created to allow harm to come your way.”

“I won’t be harmed, Joon.” you raise your hands to calm him down. “It’s just a date at a restaurant.” you scoff. 

Namjoon’s head snaps to the door just as a few knocks sound off. His eyes flashes and he sees the man just behind the door. He scans his face, the system in his mind calculating everything there was to this man - just who he was, where he worked and even details and information no one should have access to.  

“He’s here, Joon.” you tilt your head. “You should be fine here, right? I’ll be gone no longer than 2 hours.”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker to your face and slowly, he nods. “Be safe.” he responds. “It should be a little windy tonight. You should grab a jacket.”

Your lips stretch into a smile and you nod your head. Your heels click over to Namjoon and you wrap your arms around him, your head in his chest. “It’s good that you always know the weather beforehand, huh?” you laugh before unraveling yourself from him. “I’ll grab a jacket on my way out. I’ll see you tonight?” you ask. “I want us to finish reading that mystery book. We’re so close to finding out who the killer is!”

Namjoon doesn’t move for the first hour, his eyes lingering on the same spot you were just standing. He counts the minutes you’ve been gone, processing the man you were with - a complete stranger to you - and just how comfortable you felt going out with him. 

Namjoon busies himself by continuing to clean. You couldn’t manage to get through all the hard to reach places and he assures that he does, moving furniture and dusting the house top to bottom. You were no good if you were sick.

Namjoon scrubs the walls with scented detergent with a shake of his head at how you lived in such situations for so long - even if he worked months to assure everything was clean for you. He ponders if you noticed all the work he’s done to assure that you were safe from harm's way. 

It wasn’t two hours like you’ve said. It was four. Namjoon is unable to stop counting until he hears your footsteps stumble through the door. Only it wasn’t just your two feet, but another set that alarms him. Immediately he springs into action, his eyes flashing through the wall of the second bedroom you had allowed him to rest in, dropping the book he was reading.

Namjoon’s eyes catch the familiar man standing behind you. You’re laughing along with him and you press a finger to his lips to shush him. 

You’re drunk, Namjoon knows immediately. Not entirely drunk as you’re coherent, but you’re far beyond what you’re usually were; sober. You’re laughing more around the man who’s just as equally drunk as you are. You two nearly stumble onto the ground as you attempt to close the door.

Namjoon follows the way you and the man make your way to your bedroom. You close the door behind yourself quietly almost as if he couldn’t hear anything. He continues to watch you, unable to stop himself. 

You and Namjoon often listen  to podcasts and watch tv shows and he’s positive that this could end badly - this man could be a murderer for all he knows. 

The man isn’t - as far as he knows. He had no criminal record, after all, but that wasn’t going to stop him from ensuring your safety. 

This is the first time you’ve ever brought someone home before. He only saw Karan a handful of times and you opted to talk to other friends over the phone. It’s weird that you did now out of all times - and not only that, but you were going to sleep with this unknown man.

30 minutes is what it took for it all to be over and Namjoon isn’t surprised in the slightest in knowing that you weren’t satisfied. The look of disappointment on your face is the easiest sign of it, but Namjoon knows you. He knows your body. He sensed the way your heart beat increased a bit and your breath hitches, only for it to die down when the man himself cums - never you.

Namjoon shakes his head. Of course you would be left unsatisfied. This man wasn’t someone who gave a damn about you or your pleasure. He was a random man who had no ties to you, so of course he couldn’t care less to make you cum - that's what Namjoon was for. 

Namjoon knew you in and out. He knew everything there was about you - the side that you preferred to chew your food while you ate. He knew which side you preferred to sleep on at night and your entire morning schedule before work. It’s Namjoon that assures that your health is up to date and even scheduled two check-ups with your doctor so far.

Namjoon has to remind you about the dentist appointment, however, seeing as you haven’t gone in a few years. He shakes his head as his glowing eyes watch you walk the man out, a look of disappointment on your face.

“Want me to start you a shower?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at Namjoon’s sudden entrance. Your back leaned against your closed front door and hadn’t noticed him enter. 

“I…I thought you were….resting?” You bite your lip. Namjoon didn’t need to sleep, of course, but you recall him stating that he’d often rest to recharge. Karan had once stated that if Namjoon goes outside, he could also recharge solarly - whatever that means. 

Namjoon only stares blankly at you. 

You bite your lip for a moment. 

“I, uh, probably do need a shower.” you chuckle humorlessly. “Is everything okay?”

You can feel the tension in the room as Namjoon continues to stare at you. 

Namjoon turns on his heels and saunters down the hall to the bathroom. His change of mood is different but maybe it’s all in your head and you were overthinking this.

Namjoon didn’t have mood swings. 

“Thanks, Joon.” you murmur, entering the bathroom as he starts the shower. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Namjoon again doesn’t respond and instead begins to light candles - aromatherapy is what he called it when he started doing this for you. The different scents are soothing and relaxing just as Namjoon said they would be.

“Are you upset with me?” you question as you begin to disrobe, silk robe lying at your feet. “Is that a stupid question? I don’t know if androids can feel any type of emotion or-”

“Why did you bring him here?”

The shower water falls rough against the tub floor. You blink a couple times to process his question with a quick lick of your lips. “I, uh, didn’t know you…heard us.” you’re embarrassed now.

“I can hear everything.” Namjoon eyes you from his reflection in the mirror, his back turned towards you. “I can see everything, as well, Y/N. I can see right through these very walls.”

Your eyes widened a bit. 

“Excuse me?”

Namjoon remains quiet as you internally question his words. 

“You were watching us?” you are unsure if you should feel upset or further humiliated. If that was the case, that meant Namjoon saw how disappointing your sexlife truly was and just why you always came back to him time and time again. It causes you to close your eyes for a moment and mentally curse yourself - and for Karan for making Namjoon too perfect.

“That’s an invasion of privacy.” you mumble to yourself, turning away from Namjoon to begin your shower.

“You didn’t know that man.” Namjoon retorts. “He could have been a murderer.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “A murderer? He sells chicken.” you reach out your hand to feel the water - it’s always at a perfect temperature whenever Namjoon does it. He doesn’t have to configure it like you do.

Namjoon knows fully where the man works. He is scheduled to work at 9am the next day. 

“What does that matter? You’re drunk.” Namjoon’s tone changes to one you haven’t heard before. “He could’ve taken advantage of you. Then I’ll have to kill him.”

You freeze, hand underneath the warm water. There’s a shiver up your spine and slowly, you turn towards the android. He’s facing you this time, eyes unmoving. 

You’re unsure how to react to what Namjoon has said. Namjoon wouldn’t kill anyone. He barely left your side at times. He reads books and hell, he even shows interest in gardening. 

But that didn’t mean Namjoon wasn’t capable of killing anyone. He wasn’t human - he’s highly intelligent. He could figure out anything in under a minute and just recently did you learn he could see you through your walls. There’s so much you don’t know about Namjoon already that it causes your heart to jolt.

“You’re becoming frightened of me.” Namjoon speaks. “That’s not my intention.”

“N-No, I-”

“I can sense your heartbeat quickening. The hair on your arm is rising, as well.” Namjoon interrupts. It’s pointless to lie to him. “I would never hurt you, Y/N. You know that.”

Did you?

Namjoon’s eyes squint a bit, almost as if he could read your thoughts. 

“I would never lie to you, either. I would kill him.” Namjoon admits, voice a bit monotone. “I would kill anyone who would harm you.”

Your hand was going to prune if you left it under the water any longer. You turn away from Namjoon and decide to get into the shower. You’re speechless for the time being, your heartbeat only quickening. You want to take Namjoon’s words as true - you never felt unsafe with the android around. But there’s something in his tone that does indeed frighten you.

There was a shift and Namjoon noticed it immediately. 

You no longer allow Namjoon into your bedroom and any form of sexual encounters has slowly come to a halt. 

You, when asked, stated that it wasn’t fair to Namjoon to be used as a sexual object for your own satisfaction if he couldn’t gain anything from it - and he dropped a bomb on you that you were too embarrassed (and ashamed) to ask Karan about.

“I feel everything.” was what Namjoon stated and it doesn’t sit right with your spirit. Androids shouldn’t feel things, right? Sex for him should have no feeling - how could it? Asking Karan wasn’t an option because then he’d know you were just as lonely as he said you were. Asking Namjoon wasn’t either because you had a feeling that even he wasn’t sure why.

Namjoon wasn’t content with you stopping him from pleasuring you, but that doesn’t mean he’d let it bother him. He was still here for whatever you needed. He continued to clean and started cooking for you, as well. He would read books to you still and it was soothing, similar to an audiobook. He didn’t make mistakes nor did he miss any words - it was perfect.

What wasn’t perfect was him coming around. The man who’s name he knew, but didn’t care to ever mention. 

The same man who couldn’t make you cum - and never has. Why you brought him back time and time again was beyond him. You were always left disappointed and would eventually use your vibrator to fix it.

Similar to tonight. Namjoon watches the man leave your room and make his  way out of the home and you lay on your bed with a few short breaths. You’re just as disappointed as you always are - what you’ll always be if you remained bringing around that man.

Namjoon tilts his head, his feet moving until they stop right outside your door. His glowing eyes turn back to normal and he raises his arm  to lightly knock onto your door.

“Joon?” you ask from behind it. “Come in.”

You sit up against your headboard as Namjoon enters. He lingers at the door, the hallway light shining behind his tall frame. 

“Was I…too loud?” you trail off, unsure of what Namjoon wanted at this hour. He has stopped attempting to come into your bedroom once you cut your sexual encounters off.

“Why was he here?”

You click your tongue, knitting your brows. You take a deep breath. “Excuse me?” you question in response. “Why are you questioning who I bring into my household, Namjoon?”

Your tone catches Namjoon off-guard and instantly he notices your growing irritation. 

“It’s my job to protect-”

“Cut the bullshit, Namjoon.” you lift your hand to silence him.  “I’m not in any danger. He’s been here almost every night.”

“And every night you lay here and buzz the nerves off of your clit because he cannot make you cum.” Namjoon shoots back.

Your eyes widen.

“Yet, you allow that man back into the household for what?” Namjoon steps into the room. He’s sporting plaid pajama shorts and a tanktop and appears to be ready for bed; in his case, to recharge. “To use your body to masturbate? He doesn’t pleasure you-”

“I told you to stop watching me.” you hiss, your hands clenching into fist. 

“You haven’t came once, Y/N. Once.” Namjoon retorts with a shake of his head. “But you allow him to come back time and time again.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

Namjoon and you are staring right at one another, the tension as high as ever. 

This was your first disagreement with Namjoon, the android not backing down. You’re a bit surprised by his response and unmoving nature. 

“Namjoon.” your teeth grits. “Get. Out.”

“No.” Namjoon responses, gritting his own teeth - maybe to mock you. “I’m not going to sit by while you allow a nuisance back into our home.”

“Our home?” you snicker. “You act like you pay for anything around here.”

“You act like you clean anything around here.” Namjoon retorts. “Or get groceries. Or necessities. Or rearrange anything in this household.” 

You look away. Maybe you were being harsh with Namjoon. This was his home as much as it was yours and it wasn’t fair to him that you were a bit snappy. 

“I didn’t mean that.” you sigh. “I probably shouldn’t take my irritation out on you. You don’t deserve it.”

Namjoon agrees - he doesn’t.

“I just want us to have boundaries.” you cross your arms as you speak. It’s as if you’re trying to save his feelings and lately, you were beginning to think Namjoon, as an android, truly did have them. “I’ve realized that we shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t…?” Namjoon is at the foot of your bed now. “...I shouldn’t make you cum?”

“Joon,” you sigh with a slight roll in your eyes. “you’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Why should we stop?” Namjoon questions. “What makes him worthy and not me?”

“I…I just…he’s just…there.” you’re not making any sense, even for a highly intelligent being as Namjoon. “...maybe I don’t want to be lonely.”

“You’re never alone.” Namjoon quips. “I’m always here for you.”

“Of course.” you nod, licking your lips. You want to say more. You want to explain why you and he couldn’t continue further, but you’re left sitting on your bed, unable to look at him for longer than a few seconds.

“Are you upset with me?”

Namjoon takes a seat at the end of your bed.

“No, Joon. I’m not.”

Namjoon’s lips slowly form into a smile, and like always it’s his dimples that has your heart jumping.

“Your heart’s beating fast.” 

“Joon-”

You yelp when you’re suddenly dragged from your seat position to laying flat onto your back. Namjoon had snatched your ankle and yanked you closer to him. He doesn’t allow you any grace time to comprehend what’s happening. 

You’re naked beneath your robe and it hikes up when Namjoon forces your legs apart. He then proceeds to wrap them around his waist, arms embracing you fully. 

“I’m going to make you cum, Y/N.”

“J-Joon…” you shake your head with a thick swallow. You’re even more ashamed now that Namjoon’s voice causes your pussy to clench with such need. “...we can’t.”

“I’m going to make you cum, Y/N.” Namjoon repeats. “Isn’t that what you want? To cum?”

Yes it was.

Namjoon knows this - you’re rubbing against him as you both lay here, unbeknownst to you. 

“Why are you against that, Y/N? What are you afraid of?” Namjoon thrusts forward and that causes you to gasp, the friction of his shorts rubs against your clit. “Your heartbeat is increasing as well as your libido.”

Fuck Namjoon for knowing your body inside and out, causing you to go through such different amounts of emotions all at once.

Fuck Karan, as well, for forcing this upon you.

“Human emotions are complicated.” you hide your moan the best you could. “Human…touch is…I’m sure you can’t understand it fully.”

“I can feel you.” Namjoon quips, his embrace tightening. “You’ll have to ask Karan as to why. I feel everything just the same as you do.”

Your eyes flutter a bit, your mind racking with a thousand questions.

“And now,” Namjoon’s hand trails up your thigh. “I want to feel your pussy around me.”

Namjoon was growing amazing at turning himself modern - another thing you had to yell at Karan about. 

“I’m not going to think further about it.” you sigh, defeated and utterly horny. “I’ll just end up hurting my own head.”

Namjoon embraces you into a kiss - one that you allow. It causes you to remember just how much you had missed Namjoon on you. You missed his touch on your skin that would leave a trail of goosebumps behind them. You missed the way he would kiss and suck upon your skin.

You missed Namjoon’s hands, so large and strong yet soft to the touch; the way they feel inside of you especially.

“You’re wetter now than you were with him.” 

Namjoon is smug, knowing fully that no man could pleasure you like he could, especially not a human. He was the perfect being for you - highly intelligent and strong; completely unbeatable. He understood exactly what you needed in life at any given moment. Could a human man truly help you while in sickness? Could they sense when your body was working overtime to prevent you from falling ill and just what to do to prevent it? Could they reach all of the hard to reach places to clean - could they even detect mold or carbon dioxide?

No.

But Namjoon could and with that knowledge, you’ll never be safe with any other human being. 

You inhale deeply when Namjoon’s lips lift from your own. If you could see yourself now, you’ll be sure that your lips were swollen and you appeared like a woman starved to be touched.

Namjoon wants to taste you again. Completely ravish you whole. He has a deep desire to sink his fingers deep inside of you and allow you to quiver and shake with pure need and ecstasy. 

“No foreplay.” 

Namjoon stops in his tracks, having already kissed down your neck to your collarbone, nearly ripping the silk fabric of your robe apart. 

“No…foreplay…?” Namjoon tilts his head, eyes slowly lifting to witness your face. “You love foreplay.”

“I do.” you sighed out. “I just,” you lick your lips. “I just want you to fuck me.”

Namjoon lifts his brows and then he nods, understanding your sudden need. Namjoon leans back to push his shorts down while you watch with curious, lustful eyes.

Namjoon’s cock springs out and your eyes are fixed upon it. It’s erected - of course, you truly ponder if it ever truly wasn’t - and the tip is an inviting flushed pink. There’s veins wrapping around the base of it and as you look closer, they are slowly pulsing.

You hum.

“You,” Namjoon begins, grabbing his cock into his hands and centers the tip directly onto your clit. “look so defeated. So…desperate.”

You bite your lip harshly. Namjoon is teasing you, circling the tip of his cock between your folds. The sight alone is hypnotizing, nearly causing your mouth to water. However, it’s the look upon Namjoon’s face that has you moaning, finally cracking. Namjoon’s eyes are zoned; focused. He eyes the way his cock rubs along your wet clit, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. His mouth is slightly ajar, short pants coming from between them.

Namjoon could actually feel you like he said he could. It’s eerie to think about how an android could, but once again, you did not wish to think too far into it.

“Are you going to fuck me or…” you lick your bottom lip. “...or are you going to fuck me?”

Namjoon glances at you. “How much?”

You tilt your head. “How much what?”

“How many times do you want me to make you cum?” Namjoon questions, his tip now , sliding down to your hole. “How about one for each time he couldn’t?”

Namjoon enters slowly, a raspy chuckle sounding from his lips. “We’ll be here all night, wouldn’t we, Y/N?”

“Fuck you-”

With a quick thrust, Namjoon enters you whole. You yelp out and your back arches. 

“I will.” Namjoon groans.

With both hands gripping firmly upon your waist, Namjoon begins to thrust in rhythmic motions, cock springing in and out of you.

Your hands reach out to dig into the pillows surrounding you for support. You cannot hold back your moans any longer and fully embrace the pleasure that Namjoon provides. It’s insane how much you missed Namjoon and just how much you wished you’d sought him out instead of dealing with someone else. 

For Namjoon, the erotic feeling is something he hasn’t felt before and it’s a sensation that he doesn’t wish to stop. As a highly intelligent being as himself, even he cannot explain what Karan and the other scientist has done to have him feel the normal sensations that a human would - and he wasn’t going to complain about it, either. 

Namjoon’s nails dig into your skin possessively; with such greed. Your pussy is clenching around him perfectly, drawing him in more and more.

“J…Joon, slow down…!” you groan, your eyelids fluttering and barely managing to remain open. 

“No.”

Namjoon’s hips are cracking into you, speed never ceasing - it wasn’t as if he ever needed to stop to gain stamina. When he was done with you, his hand marks would be embedded into your skin permanently. However, the way he’s making you feel at this moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You’re close. I can sense it.” 

Namjoon was always right. It’s inevitable for you to not cum so quickly when he’s fucking you with such need, slamming into your sweet spot with each powerful thrust. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, shaking erratically against your bed.

Namjoon wasn’t done - he had a dozen more times to make you cum and he was fully intending on doing so. You have no time to recover when he flips you from your back to your stomach. He fully rips the robe from your body, exposing you fully.

Namjoon’s pace is just as punishable as it was in the first round. You could barely manage to sit up as for each time Namjoon would only fuck you deeper into the mattress. 

Namjoon is enthralled with the way your pussy only appears to grow tighter; wetter. There's a milky cream coating his cock that evident of your arousal and it only causes him to want to fuck you more.

Large hand glides up your hips, past your back and rests onto your shoulders. He forces you up, back arching. He continues his punishing pounding and your vision blurs at the new found position.

“You’ve ignored me for so long, Y/N.” 

Namjoon’s voice is laced with need, even more evidence that he was enjoying this as much as you were. 

“I should fuck you all night until you’re begging me to stop.” 

Your breast bounces furiously in rhythm with his thrusts.

“You were taunting me, weren’t you?”

“What…?” 

Namjoon’s throat lets out a groan. His right arm snakes around your neck and he pulls you closer to him. Your back slams against his broad chest and his mouth is against your ear. He’s moaning and that alone causes you to once more clench around his cock. 

“You bringing that man here was taunting me…” Namjoon hisses. His thrust slowed down and now they’re hitting deeper. “...I thought of a thousand ways to kill him, you know?”

It should frighten you, Namjoon’s words. It should cause red flags to wave in your mind.

It doesn’t. Namjoon’s words, mixed with the raspiness of his voice, only causes goosebumps to erupt throughout your naked skin. His deep, slow thrusts has your mind clouded with nothing but erotic lust and pleasure that he’s offering you.

“I held myself back because I care for you.” Namjoon’s free hand roams your body, gripping possessively at your breast. “But you didn’t care about me.”

“I do!” you protest, your own hand placing itself atop of his larger one. 

“Then why’d you go against me?”

Namjoon begins to kiss the nape of your neck, free hand trailing down past your stomach and between your legs. He rests it onto your pulsing clit. 

“Why’d you allow another man into our home?” Namjoon bites your neck, teeth sinking into your skin. When you scream out, Namjoon continues. “Why’d you allow another man to touch what was mine, Y/N? Have you no respect for me?”

Namjoon doesn’t let up, his fingers circle your clit as his thrusts begin to increase. 

This felt far too intimate - the way Namjoon holds you, the way he speaks to you. His words are full of emotion, hurt being one of them. 

You recall you and Karan, a few years back, once speaking about robots and if they truly could become sentient and it was a conversation you didn’t truly care for. Now, however, you begin to ponder if the conversation was brought up because he was creating Namjoon, an android that was sentient.

“Joon,” you gasp, your hand reaching back to grasp Namjoon’s head. He’s a bit shocked by your actions, but he doesn’t allow it to halt him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…done that, I-” you were going to cum again. “-I should have thought about your feelings, too.”

Namjoon grumbles inaudible beneath his breath, his thrust sloppy. There’s something in the bit of his stomach he hasn’t felt before, and if he has once it’s a feeling he cannot remember. 

“You love me, right? Say you love me, Y/N.” Namjoon pleads. His aggressive and dominant demeanor is slowly breaking. “I was made for you,Y/N. No one else!”

Your fingers tug at Namjoon’s hair, the soft locks tickling your fingers. His tone is so soft and vulnerable.

“I do love you, Joon.” you sigh out a long and deep sigh. Your fingers continue to tug at his hair for support, an action he does not mind in the slightest. 

Namjoon shudders, your sticky arousal coating his twirling fingers. He lightly shakes his head against your neck, his embrace upon you only tightening. 

“Say it again.”

Your snap your eyes shut, that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach only returning. 

“I-I love you, Joon.” you stutter out. “I…I know you were made for me.”

It isn’t long until you’re cumming once more, even harder than the first time. Namjoon allows both of his arms to wrap fully around you as he thrusts forward, panting in your neck.

“Love you so much, Y/N. Never gonna let you go.” Namjoon senses it, the unfamiliar sensation in the pit of his stomach that confuses him but what he does understand is that he wants to let it all out.

A warm substance enters you, shooting throughout your core. Your mind doesn’t process it at first, far too enthralled in your own orgasm to realize that Namjoon, an android, had came directly inside of you. How? The both of you are entirely unsure.

“I’ll be back in the lab in an hour.” Karan speaks as he climbs the steps to your front door.. “It’s been months since we’ve revealed Namjoon.”

Karan stops at your front door and snorts.

“No, of course not. Namjoon is perfect. It took us years programming him.” Karan responds, nose against his ear. “Besides,Y/N hasn’t said anything about him malfunctioning so that’s a good sign.”

Karan lifts his hand to knock upon your door. “I gotta go. Try not to fuck anything up while I’m out.”

Karan puts his phone into his jacket pocket as he awaits for the door to open. He doesn’t call you beforehand - he never did. Today would be no different. 

Karan was curious how Namjoon had come together and if he had managed to adjust to modern society. You would ask a few vague questions, but never anything far too in depth that would have him questioning.

It was nearly a decade ago when he came across Namjoon, the very man who he had gifted you. Namjoon, in simpler terms, was dying and had offered his body to science. It cost Karan a fortune alone to pay for and long, exhausting hours to perfect along the way.

“Karan…”

Karan isn’t taken aback by Namjoon greeting him at the door. He has expected Namjoon to. From you, he has heard that Namjoon was doing amazing in being an assistant and an overall friend, exactly what he was programmed to do.

“Namjoon!” Karan waves his hand. “How are you and Y/N? I’ve come to visit you two. See if everything is fine.”

Namjoon blinks, the door only opens a crack - enough for Namjoon to show his face.

“Okay.” Namjoon murmurs, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Karan nods his head, stepping into the home. It’s eerily quiet inside the home. He strolls past the foyer and his eyebrows furrow. 

There’s flowers on the floor, petals scattering down the hall that would reach your sitting room. He doesn’t question what’s happening - maybe he caught you at the wrong time.

“Is Y/N in the sitting room…?” Karan stops in his tracks as he reaches the sitting area. “Y/N?”

“She’s fine.”

Karan’s eyes fall to your crouched onto the ground. You’re breathing heavily, panting as you’re breathing into an oxygen mask. There’s tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N what the hell-”

As Karan steps closer to get to you, he notices another figure, however this time lifeless. it's a few feet away from you and nearly hidden behind a couch, but he catches it. His mind races at what in the world was going on prior to him entering.

“Namjoon, what happened?” Karan asks. His mind was racing, pounding louder and louder now. 

“Home invasion.” Namjoon responds, closing the door behind him to then step inside the home deeper. “He,” Namjoon points to the man who is lifeless. “came uninvited.”

Karan tries to understand everything that goes on, however Namjoon is being far too vague for his understanding. 

“Y/N is too trusting and naive.” Namjoon shakes his head. “I told her that he could be a murderer of sorts when she began dating him.”

Karan’s head is spinning. He has to sit down - it feels as if the whole room is spinning uncontrollably. 

“H-He tried to h-hurt Y/N?” Karan manages  to find the nearest seat, his body crashing down against it. His throat is clogged, unaware of what is happening to him.

“Sure, let’s say that.” Namjoon chuckles. “I got rid of the problem, Karan. I was created for Y/N. To assure her ultimate safety and him,” Namjoon scoffs. “was not a part of the reason. Y/N doesn’t need another man in her life.”

Karan’s heart is beating erratically, Namjoon notes, but he wasn’t here to assure that Karan was safe. As long as you were then he’s alright with that. 

“You must feel it, right? The Aftermath of Carbon Monoxide poisoning. The dizziness…the shortness of breath. Soon it’ll be nausea.”

Karan begins to cough. It was growing hard to remain alert, his body growing weak and tired. He was growing exhausted by the second.  

“I gave Y/N two options. Us or him.” Namjoon takes a seat on the couch by you, his hand stroking your back gently. “And rightfully so, she chose us.”

You’re continuing to cry, unable to process just what Namjoon has done. You’re frozen in place, unwilling to move from this spot due to pure shock.

You weren’t expecting to wake up one morning to flowers, neither was Namjoon. He watched you welcome the man into the home you and he shared together and thank him. You placed the flowers along the kitchen island and offered him a drink - as if he wasn’t in the next room.

“Y/N is too nice to people. I got rid of the problem, right, baby?”

Maybe Carbon Monoxide was a little harsh - but it scared you enough to obey him. When you experienced the shortness of breath, the fatigue and booming headache, you caught on that this was no longer a joke. That Namjoon wasn;t going to sit around and watch you be taken advantage of by a mere human man who couldn’t keep you safe.

Literally - he laid dead on the floor because he couldn’t save you.

“It’s either him, Y/N, or me.” Is what Namjoon told you as you struggled to breathe. The small oxygen tank in his hands as he watches you. “If you choose to die here tonight then so be it. I’ll sell destruct and we’ll all be dead.”

Namjoon didn’t like doing this. It hurt him to have to punish you like this, but you needed to be taught a lesson. And you learned from your mistake when you reached out for him and with that, now you’re here alive and well. He would nurse you back to health like he was programmed to do because he loved you.

“Namjoon you…you can’t…”

“You weren’t supposed to be here, Karan.” Namjoon speaks. “Why did you have to come today? Now you’ll have to die here, too.” There wasn’t going to be anyone to stop him from his ultimate goal - not even Karan who he felt no ill feelings for.

Karan is unable to move. It’s as if all the air from his lungs were gone.

“I promise to do right by you as your greatest creation.” Namjoon strokes your cheek with his finger. “I’ll keep Y/N safe and together, we’ll grow to love one another deeper.  We can be a family.”

Your tears fall rapidly and you snap them shut as watching Karan slowly die wasn’t something you wanted to see - not now or ever. 

Namjoon wraps an arm around you and presses you to his chest. He assures that your oxygen mask remains on so you could breathe. His eyes watch Karan and he snorts. “I suppose you wish you hadn’t used my body for this purpose.” he murmurs, sure he couldn’t hear him any longer. “Maybe you thought I’ll never grow sentient, but a part of me still is human even if the majority isn’t.”

Namjoon held you a little tighter as you continued to cry. He presses his chin atop of your head and sighs, closing his eyes. Now it could only be you and him -  no one else can come between the two of you and the love you share.

halloween masterlist

[joemama-2]

it’s late at night. he’s already situated on the bed, seeing you come into the room with unkempt hair, you shirt has splotches of dried milk and your movements are slow. tired.

why wouldn’t you be?

an energetic three year old who’s just like his father is hard to maintain. though you wouldn’t trade it for the world. “come here, baby.” he pats his lap, grinning softly.

you look over from where you’re taking off your jewelry for the day, in attempt to get ready for your nightly shower. “hm? for what?”

his eyes follow your every movement, patting his lap once more. “you know exactly why. cmon, daddy needs some stress relief.”

the laugh you let out causes his face to soften, admiring you in a way that’s reserved solely for his wife, for the mother of his son. “i thought we agreed you couldn’t call yourself that anymore.”

he adjusts himself when he sees you come over, crawling on the bed to situate yourself in a straddling position over his hips. his hands fall into place on the curve of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on the small patch of skin that shows when your shirt lifts up. “you did. i didn’t.”

“it’s cringey.”

“so?”

you huff, eyes rolling. he dips his head forward into the crook of your neck, planting a trail of warm kisses. “satoru, are you sure?”

“are you sure?” he asks, voice muffled by your skin. “i just want to pamper my wife after a long day, can’t i do that?”

“i feel hideous right now.”

he tips his head back, bright eyes staring back at you with an intensity you’ve come to associate with. the kind of intensity that lets you know whatever he says—he means it. “hideous? what did i say before, huh? i said don’t even think about saying stupid stuff like that again. and look at you now.”

your lips downturn. “don’t say that just to make me feel better.”

“i’m not,” he places a firm kiss to your lips. “you look beautiful every day, every second of the day. but you look especially gorgeous right now.”

you narrow your eyes at him, skeptical. “why right now?”

satoru’s lips quirk into a sly grin, his thumbs still tracing those comforting circles on your waist. "because right now, I see my whole world in front of me. the woman who gave me everything I could ever want—a family, a home, a reason to come back every single day.”

the weight of his words presses against the exhaustion hanging over you. it’s not just flattery. it’s raw and genuine, just like him, and it makes your chest ache in the best way. “you’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“and you’re so heavenly,” his grin widens, leaning in closer until your noses almost touch. “but you love my cheesiness, don’t you? admit it.”

your lips twitch, a small smile breaking through despite your best efforts to keep a straight face. “maybe I do.”

“there it is,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, as if he’s handling something fragile. “that smile’s all I need to get through anything.”

the words wrap around your tired soul like a warm blanket. and for a moment, the weight of the day fades, replaced by the solid, steady presence of him—your husband, your partner, the man who never fails to make you feel like the most important person in the world.

you sigh, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Wrong.” his voice is firm, his hands steady as they pull you just a little closer, subtly rubbing you against his clothed cock. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

and in that quiet, intimate moment, with the world outside fading into irrelevance, you believe him.

"now let me pamper you like I promised." he switches positions, hovering above you as you lay on your back. leaning down to raise the hem of your shirt, trailing sweet kisses and licks against your stomach—heading further south. your hips raise slightly as he discards your lounge pants, breath hitching in anticipation. hand running down through the streaks of his white hair, he smiles at the sight of your pussy hidden behind the grandma underwear you adorn.

hot breath tickling your core that leaves you almost jerking upwards for more. he kisses your clit through the loose fabric. “besides, mommy needs her fix too, doesn’t she?”

[lightboundhellhound]

god you ever think of a celebrity you like and immediately go “oh god what heinous thing have they done… what heinous thing will they do…” but then you feel bad for assuming they must be awful but also you’re kinda justified because you’ve been let down so many times in the past but you wanna be optimistic cos there is good in everyone but also it sometimes feels like becoming famous just changes you on a fundamental level and you just spiral further and further down

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

A Firm Partner

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Lawyer Joel Miller x Female Reader Summary: Mr. Miller needs you to stay late... even if tomorrow is your birthday. Warnings: porn with very little plot, smut, unprotected p in v, office sex, couch sex, desk sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel has a filthy mouth, joel carries you and refuses to pull out while doing so, joel eats pussy from the back, probably the best way to ever wake up, law talk (but not a lot, this is an escape), no use of y/n Word Count: 3,400

A/N: Happy birthday dear @ohheypedrito! You are the absolute cornerstone of my Pedro obsession and nothing has been better than sharing in the delulu of him over the past couple of years. I can't believe we've known each other for 20+ years and all it took was Pedro Pascal to become so close. Sometimes I truly don't know how I'd be able to survive without our delulu yap sessions. Thank you for all that you do, and most importantly, being my friend. I wrote this while wearing my TTPD cardigan and listening to our shared delulu Joel Miller songs. 🪿 Thanks to @schnarfer and @mothandpidgeon for their input and always letting me talk about how much @ohheypedrito means to me lol. Please also enjoy the requested nose against clit and playful spank mentions gifted from @schnarfer.

Masterlist

—-

The conference room is full of your coworkers, engaged in hushed conversations with each other as you take your seat at the mahogany table. Joel Miller strides in, your eyes are instantly drawn to him as the room hushes, his mere presence commanding attention.

He settles into the high-backed leather chair at the head of the table, everyone and everything seems to shrink around his presence. Joel’s reputation precedes him, his firm is the most prestigious in Austin. You can hardly believe you landed a position here, fresh out of law school. But you’re here now, sitting mere feet away from the man himself. You admire his broad shoulders filling out his impeccably tailored suit, the dark green color of his shirt highlighting the golden glow of his skin and the deep chocolate brown of his eyes. 

“Good morning everyone,” his deep voice rumbles through the room as he begins to outline the case. You try to pay attention to him, try to focus on the case, but you can’t stop thinking about his plush lips. Would they taste of the strong coffee he’s drinking? How warm are they this morning? You’re mesmerized, watching the way his mouth forms each word, the slight Texas drawl rolling easily out. 

You’re interrupted from your reverie when you hear your last name and look up, your eyes meeting Joel’s. “You’re going to need to stay late with me tonight and get this taken care of.”

You nod, attempting to hide a sly smile as he continues on.

—-

The office fell silent hours ago, the last of your colleagues had long trickled out as the sun set. The only sounds now are distant noises from the city below and the clicking of your heels on the polished floor as you walk down the dark hallway to Joel's office.

You stop at the threshold, taking a quick moment to admire Joel. He’s sitting hunched over his desk, the light of his desk lamp casting him in a golden aura. His dark green shirt, usually crisp and buttoned to perfection, is now softened by the late hour. He’s undone the top few buttons, your eyes widen when you’re blessed with the glimpse of his neck and chest. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his toned forearms dusted with dark hair. His long, thick fingers absently tap against the stack of papers in front of him. Sensing your presence, he looks up, his dark eyes finding yours in the dim light.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “I need you to take a look. Close the door.”

The door clicks as it softly shuts, now it’s just you and Joel Miller in his office filled with polished furniture and framed accomplishments. The heady scent of him overwhelms you—coffee and expensive woodsy cologne—as you move towards him. Joel’s intense gaze follows your every move as you stand next to him. His shirt pulls taut across his broad chest when he leans back, running a hand through his hair.

“These depositions,” he says, gesturing to the papers on his desk. “Something’s not adding up.”

You lean in, acutely aware of how close he is as you scan the documents. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body as you reach for a page. He watches as you read through it, your eyes scanning through the typical legal jargon.

"What do you make of this discrepancy?"

"I think… we need to look closer at the witness statements,” you lay the paper down, searching for another file.

“I think you’re right,” he murmurs as he leans in to examine the paper.

“We should compare these statements side by side.”

“Mm, good idea. There’s more room on the couch.”

You nod, goosebumps prickling across your skin as you walk over and settle amongst the cool, leather cushions.

He sits next to you, impossibly close, you’re acutely aware of every point where your bodies almost touch. Joel leans back, the leather creaking slightly, as he casually drapes an arm along the back of the couch, just inches from your shoulders.

You try to focus on the papers in your lap, but you find it too daunting as he leans even farther in.

“What do you think?”

You turn your head slightly, your lips now mere inches away from his. Intense and unreadable dark brown eyes stare into yours. You can hear the ticking of the clock sitting on his desk and yet time stands still.

“I think…" your voice barely above a whisper. “We need to look closer.”

Your mind races, you can hardly keep any semblance of composure as he shifts slightly, his thigh now pressing against yours. The heat of his body seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

“Closer, huh?” he drawls.

You nod. Joel's eyes flicking down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze.

“Mr. Miller,” you whisper.

“Baby, you know you can call me Joel.”

“Joel…”

The papers on your lap flutter to the floor as he closes the remaining distance between you. His lips are warm, soft, and familiar, reminding you of the last time you kissed him–yesterday morning when he backed you up into the supply room, whispering against your skin how much he missed you. 

A soft whimper leaves your lips as your mouth opens, allowing his tongue to taste yours. A trail of fire is left on your skin when his hand slides up your thigh, bunching your skirt as he goes. He knows how to touch you and how to make you moan… Joel Miller knows you.

Charting a path, his lips move to your neck, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive spot he knows you love to be kissed at.

You’re whimpering, already writhing against the smooth, cool leather of the couch. All day you’ve tried to focus on work, tried to figure out the case in front of you, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of Joel’s body pressed against yours again. It’s been almost six months of sneaking around, of heated glances across conference rooms, of always feeling his eyes on you while you’re in the office. Six months of pretending you're just another associate, when really you're the one who knows exactly how Joel Miller likes to be touched.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day darlin’,” he drawls. “Been waitin’ for you.”

Thick fingers find the apex of your thighs, already slick with need. He clutches your thighs, parting your legs as his palm grazes along your silky skin there. He smirks, a devilish look, when he feels just how wet you are for him.

His lips find yours again, kissing you deeply, like he really has been waiting for you.

You’re squirming, aching for more, and when he slides a hand higher, skimming the edge of your damp underwear, you sigh his name. “Joel…”

“Love it when you say my name baby,” he growls, pressing his finger against the soaked fabric. “Can feel how much you want me.”

His fingers slip beneath the elastic, finding your slick, swollen flesh. A long moan escapes you as he parts your folds, stroking your needy pussy. Your hands fist in his dark green shirt, holding on as he his thumb circles your clit. His touches are confident and purposeful, working you over like you’re a case.

Open-mouthed kisses are trailed along your jaw and down your neck, nipping at your racing pulse before soothing it with his tongue.

“You’re so wet f’me, aren’t you?”

You moan an affirmative noise as he leaves one last, chaste kiss against your lips before he moves to settle on the floor between your parted legs, his hands gripping your hips tugging you to the edge of the leather couch.

He slowly drags your panties down your legs, throwing them behind him before bunching your skirt up around your waist. He spreads your legs wider, his brown eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of your pussy dripping for him.

“Look at you, baby, so beautiful. Been thinkin’ about tastin’ this pussy all damn day.”

His dark eyes meet yours before he dips his head, the tip of his nose sweetly bumping against your clit as his tongue licks against your aching cunt. Your fingers thread through his thick hair, holding him close as he laps up the taste of you.

The way his tongue slides along your slick folds, teasing and probing before plunging inside has you arching off the couch with a gasp. You feel his warm breath against your skin as he sighs contentedly, his mouth working tirelessly to taste you.

"Oh god, Joel…" you cry, fisting your hands in his thick, dark hair.

He hums against you, the vibrations making you shudder. He holds you in place as he alternates between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue against your clit, keeping you right on the edge.

When he slides two thick fingers inside your slick heat, you nearly come undone. He pumps them in and out, slowly, so achingly slow.

"Joel..." you whimper, fisting your hands in the dark waves of his hair.

"You taste like heaven, baby," he rasps. "Could spend all night right here, worshippin' this perfect little pussy."

The tension inside you winds tighter and tighter, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head. You're right there, chasing that peak you’ve been waiting to climb all day.

"That's it, baby," he rasps against your flesh. "Cum for me.”

His gruff words are your undoing. With a sharp cry, you shatter, your walls clenching around his fingers as your orgasm rolls through you. He works you through it, not letting up until you're spent, chest heaving and panting.

Your limbs are loose as you float back down to earth in the middle of Joel Miller’s office, he places a soft kiss against your core before crawling back up your body.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” he growls before kissing you. You moan, licking the taste of yourself from his lips and tongue. Your hands slip under his shirt, feeling the plush of his belly before the hard planes of his chest.

Joel pulls back, his dark eyes boring into yours with intensity. He grips the fabric of his shirt and with one swift motion, tears it open. Buttons scatter across the room, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. You smile and take in the sight of his broad, golden chest.

You fumble with the smooth fabric of your blouse as you quickly remove it, revealing your light blue lace bra. He growls, fixated on the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath you take.

His large hands run up and down your stomach as you reach behind and unclasp your bra, letting it fall away.

“Perfect,” he breathes before dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly. His hand comes up to palm your other breast, kneading the soft flesh.

You're writhing beneath him, cunt aching with need as he sucks and nips at your breasts. “Please Joel,” you whimper.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, a devilish grin on his face. "Please what, darlin'? Tell me what you need."

"I need you.”

With a groan, he pulls back, undoing his belt and zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down, his hard cock springs free, his thick shaft hard and ready to fuck you. Veins trace along the length of him, pulsing with need.

You lick your lips unconsciously, wanting to taste the bead of precum glistening in the dim office light. Your hands reach out, feeling the nest of dark curls at his base as you give him one, long and tight pump. His hand covers yours, and with an agonizing slowness, you both stroke him, spreading the slick precum along his cock.

“Fuck me Mr. Miller.”

He groans, his hips bucking slightly before hooking his arms under your knees, lifting your legs up and apart, spreading you wide open as he notches himself at your entrance.

One, smooth thrust in and he’s sheathed fully inside your wet heat.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he grunts, his thick cock spearing you as your hands roam over the flexing muscles of his back, your nails digging into his skin as he fucks you into the leather couch.

He pauses, his dark brown eyes locked on yours in the dim light of his office. You feel deliciously full, stretched around him.

"You take me so well, darlin',” he rasps, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips.

The leather couch creaks beneath you, his hands clamp down on your hips, yanking you against him as he pounds into your wet pussy. His breath is hot against your neck, as he sucks against the delicate skin there, fucking you senseless.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you up against his broad chest. You gasp at the sudden change, when he lifts you off the couch, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Hold on tight, baby.”

You oblige, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your breasts press firmly against his chest, nipples dragging against the coarse hair of him there. He walks you across his office over to the desk, his thick cock shifting inside you with each step. You exhale a breathy giggle when his palm makes contact with your ass, leaving a sweet sting against your flesh.

“Fuck darlin’, you feel so good wrapped around me like this.” 

His thighs flex with each thrust as he pounds you relentlessly. He growls your name, fucking into you, his legs set wide as he stands. Your head falls back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth. He latches on, sucking and nipping, grunting against your skin. 

With one swift motion, he sweeps everything off his desk, scattering papers and pens to the floor before placing you on the edge of the desk. A small whimper leaves your lips when he pulls out, your pussy already missing the stretch of his cock. You’re pathetic for his cock, trembling with need, your legs spread wide. He steps back and looks you up and down, the edge of his mouth lifted in a cocky grin as he admires your wide eyes and heaving chest. 

“Turn around and bend over for me darlin’.”

You comply, sliding off the desk and turning around, spreading your legs wide, presenting your ass and cunt to him. 

“Mm,” Joel breathes appreciatively before you feel him kneel behind you. 

He pulls you back slightly, your pussy meeting his warm breath ghosting over your skin, a shiver of anticipation rolls through you when you feel the tickle of his beard on the backs of your thighs as he nuzzles against you. 

“Goddamn, you look good enough to eat.”

Your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth desk surface at the first swipe of his tongue against you. A long, low hum vibrates against your cunt as he delves deeper, his tongue worshipping every fold and crevice of your pussy. His nose bumps against your ass he buries his face between your legs, the wet sounds of his mouth working you over fills the office. 

You whine, your hips rocking back against his face, squirming all over his eager mouth. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling in relentless circles. Your legs begin trembling, barely able to hold you up. He chuckles lowly, before leaving one last kiss against your pussy. 

He rises behind you, his hands sliding up your back to grip your shoulders, his cock hard and lightly tapping against your ass.

“Easy now,” he grits, his voice rough and low. Your hips sway at the anticipation of feeling the length of him pulsing inside you again. 

The broad head of his cock teases your entrance before he pushes into you, stretching you wide. He leans over you slightly, one hand moving up to press between your shoulder blades while the other clutches the edge of the desk for balance. His skin meeting your skin echoes through the room blending with your heavy breathing. 

Your eyes flutter open, catching sight of the reflection in the window. Joel–his jaw clenched tight, brows furrowed together creasing his forehead, deep brown eyes watching his cock fuck your accepting pussy is backlit by the city lights twinkling outside. His power is on full display for only you and the secret you two keep. 

He pulls almost all the way out, swirling his length around your entrance, before sinking back in, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he anchors himself. Your fingers claw at the desk, searching for something to hold onto as his cock pistons into you. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me, can feel you gettin’ ready. Need to see your pretty face when you cum f’me.” 

He grabs your waist, turning you over with ease. He hovers above you, his broad frame caging you in, pressing your back against the smooth surface.

"Gonna fuck you so hard, baby," he promises. "Gonna make you feel it for days. You deserve it, don’t ya’?"

Wide eyed, and staring at him, you nod.

He sinks back into you with one deep thrust, bottoming out inside your slick heat, your head rolling back as he fills you completely.

"That's it darlin'," he rasps, his hips snapping against yours. "Take me so well."

Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer, deeper. His thick cock drags along your walls with each thrust, his finger finds your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. Your head falls back against the desk, a high keen escaping your lips.

"Look at me," he commands gruffly. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you cum for me.”

You force your heavy lids open, meeting his intense dark gaze. His brow is furrowed in concentration, a light sheen of sweat on his golden skin.

The pressure builds inside you with each stroke of his thick cock, every swipe of his finger against your clit. Your entire body feels like a livewire, every nerve ending alight within you.

"That's it, baby. You're so close, I can feel it. Your sweet little pussy's grippin' me so tight."

You’re teetering on the edge, ready to tumble over. Joel fucks you more erratically, his breathing labored. You know he’s cresting on the edge, right next to you. 

The tension inside you snaps. Your back arches off the desk as your orgasm bursts through you. Your walls clenching Joel's cock as you cry out his name, your vision going white at the edges. 

"Fuck, you're so perfect," he grunts. "Feel so good cumming on my cock."

A guttural groan tears from his throat as he stills, spilling deep inside you.

You cling to each other as you float down from the high, pulses gradually slowing. He places tender kisses along your jaw before claiming your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

"Should we get back to work?" you ask against his lips, a sated smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest pressed to yours. "I think we're done for tonight, sweetheart. Let me take you home, want to wake up next to you on your birthday." 

—

Your body feels heavy and relaxed with sleep, but there's a warmth building between your thighs. Slowly drifting into consciousness, you become aware of the source - Joel’s tongue lapping at the sensitive skin between your legs.

You let out a soft moan, your fingers instinctively carding through the thick tendrils of his hair. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours your pussy.

Blinking away the last signs of sleep, you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. His dark eyes twinkle with golden flecks lit by the soft early morning light filtering through the curtain when they meet yours.

He pulls back slightly, his plush lips and beard shiny from your slick. A roguish grin spreads across his face as he gives you a wink.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he drawls before diving back in between your legs. 

—-

🪿