#your throne fluff

[incorrecttom]

HELIO dies for affection, he loved the intimacy both of you had. It was like an invisible string between both of you, no words exchanged but knowing what the later always needed.

And to be honest, he would ditch everything in the world for you. Not because you were like Medea, but mostly because he cared about you. He loved you for being yourself, that's what made you unique to him.

The absolute best? It was when there was rain and both of you snuggled onto his bed. Lying there in silence - the peace in the room would soothe both of you. The thunder rumbling as both you held hands. The slight shifting in the bed to keep a hand on his chest, assuring yourself, that your Helio is there.

That he is alive, that he's fine, that you are by his side. That his heart was beating.

And that's all mattered. Him being with you, cradling you in his arms as both of you lied down.

It hits him then that you are one of the rare people who love him no matter what. Even ready to go ahead and die for him.

And he tightens his arms around your body. He'll be damned if he loses you. He will make sure that you will be protected at all costs.

Because he knows you love him no matter what. That the affection that you provide him is not manipulation, it's genuine love.

for @orlic1a

@dxmoness , @sxnful-rage , @that-one-pretty-bitch , @roseadleyn , @trash4can , @salvatvre , @crownxie , @yevene , @baby0blanche , @ithil-lucien , @yourlocalintrovertt , @nyrwve , @meow-meow-potato

[br0kenangel]

Baby Targaryens as adults headcanon: how would they fall for you? How they are in a relationship in general?

characters: Jaehaerys, Maelor, Aegon III, Viserys II.

Jaehaerys doesn’t fall in love gracefully. No, he sees you once, maybe catching you out of the corner of his eye while he’s busy rolling them at Aegon or suffering through some royal function he doesn’t want to be at. His first thought? “Great. Another distraction.”

But something about you makes him pause, something makes him stare a little longer. And before he even understands it himself, the moment he lays eyes on you, in that deadpan, signature cold style of his, he mutters under his breath, “beautiful.”

Jaehaerys is different from other men in court. He doesn’t care to charm you, impress you, or, gods forbid, flirt with you. No, that’s Mealor’s job, with his smiles and "how are you this fine evening, my lady?" Jaehaerys? He just glares at you across the room, assessing. He doesn’t need to court you. You’re already his—he decided that five minutes ago. Now he’s just waiting for you to realize it.

If he ever does try to flirt, it's the most awkward, detached, disastrous thing you’ve ever witnessed. He’ll stare at you for a bit too long and say something like, “Your hair... it’s fine, I suppose.” Or worse, “You don’t annoy me as much as everyone else.”

It’s so unintentionally rude that you almost laugh—but he’s dead serious, just standing there, completely oblivious to how bad he is at this.

It doesn’t help that Jaehaerys is unreasonably attractive. He’s taller than his father, with that same Targaryen beauty, but he’s always looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. People fall all over themselves around him, but he just rolls his eyes. When you don’t, he’s intrigued. It’s almost like a challenge to him. Why aren’t you impressed? he wonders, eyebrows raised. You’re not supposed to be immune to him.

Aegon, his one and only friend (though Jaehaerys would never admit it), notices Jaehaerys watching you with a bit more interest than usual and teases him endlessly. Jaehaerys, tired of the teasing, the world, and quite frankly, of you for making him feel something, just glares and says, “Shut up, Aegon.”

Aegon keeps poking him, though. “You like her, don’t you?” And Jaehaerys’s face twists in annoyance before he just groans, “Gods, Aegon, leave me alone. I just want to sleep.” Which, funnily enough, is his attitude about everything. He’d much rather be napping than dealing with feelings.

Most lords would play the long game, trying to win your favor, doing all the polite things. Jaehaerys? Nah. He doesn’t care. He sees you, he wants you, and that’s it. End of story. He walks up to you one day, fully expecting the conversation to end in you being his.

His approach? Straightforward and blunt: “We’re going to wed. That’s not a question.”

You’re stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I'm in love with you,” he says flatly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “So you’re mine now.”

There’s no pleading, no coy smile. He’s already made the decision for both of you.

He’s deeply annoyed by the fact that he even has feelings for you. He’ll be sitting in his chambers, brooding, trying to read, but all he can think about is you. He scowls, tossing the book aside. “Why?” he mumbles to himself, irritated. “Why do I even care?”

He’s annoyed that you’ve distracted him, that you’ve taken up residence in his mind, and yet, he’ll spend hours watching you from afar. He won’t admit it, but you’re the only thing that makes him not hate everything for a little while.

The moment you show interest in someone else? Forget it. Jaehaerys is right there, appearing out of nowhere like some shadowy ghost. He’ll stand between you and anyone who dares approach, giving them a cold, dismissive look. And he’ll say, in that cutting, dry voice of his, “She’s not interested.” He doesn’t even ask how you feel—he’s already made the decision for you.

People often comment on how lucky you are to have caught Jaehaerys’s eye, because—let’s face it—he’s gorgeous. But the moment he opens his mouth? Everything gets awkward. He’s either blunt, rude in the most polite way, or just plain dismissive. You’ll walk into a room, and someone will say, “You look beautiful today.”

Jaehaerys, overhearing, just rolls his eyes and mutters, “She looks beautiful every day. Obviously.” Then adds under his breath, “Can we leave now?”

The thing with Jaehaerys is, once he decides he wants you, there’s no escape. Not in a creepy way, but in a he-will-not-leave-you-alone way. He’ll suddenly be everywhere—at your side, giving you that I’m-annoyed-but-interested look. And when you try to argue, he just cuts you off with, “Don’t bother. I’ve already decided. You’re mine.”

You realize, in a strange, funny way, that it’s almost comforting—knowing that once Jaehaerys chooses something (or someone), he’s completely devoted. Even if he’s the most sarcastic, emotionally unavailable person on the planet, he’s yours.

Maelor has an unmatched talent for getting into trouble, but the way he struts into it is almost impressive. He’ll walk into a room, compliment someone on their ridiculously oversized hat, steal the silverware off the table, and wink at you on the way out like it was all part of some grand performance. When you ask him why he does these things, he just shrugs and says, “It’s called living, love. Try it sometime.”

Flirting is basically Maelor’s second language. He’ll start with something overly dramatic, like, “You, my dear, are the moon to my drunken stumbles,” and before you can even roll your eyes, he’s convinced the entire room that you’re madly in love with him. Even if you’re not. Especially if you’re not. When you point this out, he grins and says, “Can you blame them? Look at me.” (He’s very humble.)

Maelor does not believe in subtlety when it comes to his wardrobe. He’ll walk into a council meeting wearing a deep purple silk tunic, velvet cape, and, of course, his beloved golden earring. He’ll probably have a feathered hat, too, just because he can. When you tell him he’s dressed like he’s going to a festival and not, you know, preparing for day, he’ll just smirk and say, “I know, I’m practically a walking work of art.”

You’d think Maelor’s silver tongue would be infallible when it comes to flirting. But when he really likes someone, the smooth talk disappears. He’ll go from “You’re the most stunning creature in Westeros,” to “You…uh…have very…nice shoes? I guess.” The more he likes you, the worse it gets. You’re watching a man who can talk his way out of a dragon’s mouth completely lose it because he can’t think of a single charming thing to say.

Maelor has a special talent for vanishing from the scene of his crimes just in time, leaving you in awe of his ability to slip away right when things go south. Whether it’s after “borrowing” a lord’s prized horse or sweet-talking his way into a highborn feast, he’s gone with a blink and a laugh. He’ll reappear later with a cup of wine and a grin, saying, “Hello darling.” (He never learns his lesson because somehow, he never gets caught.)

Maelor loves wine. And not just a casual love—he’s borderline obsessed with it (worse than his father). At every meal, he’s got a goblet in hand, and he’s always trying to top yours up like you’re both on some extended holiday. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had this vintage,” he’ll say, pouring you a cup while simultaneously swiping an entire bottle for later. If you ask him why he always has to drink, he’ll flash a charming grin and say, “Life’s too short to be sober.”

Maelor flirts with everyone—it’s just who he is. But with you? There’s a sincerity behind his teasing that isn’t there with anyone else. When he calls you “gorgeous” or “darling,” it’s not just part of his game—it’s real. And when he flirts with others in your presence, it’s to get a rise out of you, just to see that flash of jealousy in your eyes. “What’s wrong? You know you’re my favorite.”

That golden earring he’s so proud of? He thinks it’s the height of fashion. He’ll casually flip his hair just so it catches the light, and if you compliment him on it (even sarcastically), he’ll give you a knowing look like you’ve just confirmed his suspicions of being the most fashionable man alive. He’ll say, “Ah, you’ve noticed. I knew you had taste.” You can’t even tell if he’s joking or not.

Maelor loves pulling pranks and stealing random things, but he’s the worst at being subtle about it. He’ll swipe a coin purse or a golden goblet, only for you to see it sticking out of his coat five minutes later. When you point it out, he’ll just laugh and say, “Oops. Must have slipped in there.” He’s too charming to be mad at, and he knows it.

When Maelor really likes you, he becomes an absolute disaster. His usual suave lines turn into awkward stumbles. “You…uh, look nice. I mean, not that you didn’t look nice before, but like…yeah.” You watch him go from the most confident man in the room to someone who can’t even make eye contact. It’s adorable, really, watching him struggle to be smooth when he’s head over heels.

One moment, Maelor is all smiles and teasing, and the next, he’s quiet, watching you with a calculating gaze. It’s like he’s always thinking three steps ahead, figuring out how to get you closer to him without you even realizing it. When he’s like this, he’ll casually brush a hand against yours, lean in just a little too close, and murmur something so soft it’s almost dangerous: “You know you’re the only one who can keep up with me, right?”

Maelor’s idea of a “cunning plan” usually involves a lot of improvisation and almost no foresight. He’ll convince you to help him steal something valuable or sneak into a lord’s private party, assuring you he has it all figured out. Spoiler: he does not have it all figured out. But somehow, through sheer luck and charm, it always works out. “See? Told you I had a plan,” he’ll say with a grin, as if you both weren’t two seconds away from disaster.

Maelor doesn’t get jealous in the traditional sense, but he’s definitely possessive in his own subtle way. If someone else is flirting with you, he’ll step in with that dazzling smile and start charming them instead, all while keeping you close. “You’re coming with me, love,” he’ll say smoothly, completely unbothered by the competition. And when he steals you away, he’ll shoot you a knowing grin, as if to say, “You’re mine, and we both know it.”

If there’s one thing Maelor loves, it’s teasing you. He’ll steal something of yours, just to watch you get flustered trying to get it back. “Looking for this?” He’ll dangle it in front of you with that mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. But as soon as he sees you getting genuinely upset, he’ll soften, handing it back with a playful wink. “Alright, alright, here you go. I’m only teasing, darling.”

Maelor steals more than just gold—he steals hearts, too. You didn’t mean to fall for him, but it’s hard not to when he’s always pulling you into wild adventures and making you laugh. You’ll be fuming because he just got you both chased out of a tavern, but then he’ll look at you with those pretty eyes and that teasing smile, and suddenly you’re not so mad anymore. He knows it, too. “I’m irresistible, admit it,” he’ll say with a wink.

Maelor can flirt, trick, and outsmart most people, but when it comes to saying goodbye? He’s the worst. He’ll tell you he’s leaving for a trip, only to sneak back into your chambers hours later with a bottle of wine and say, “Miss me yet?” It’s impossible to get rid of him, and honestly, you’re not even sure you want to anymore.

Aegon is the definition of effortlessly charming, with that roguish smile and easy-going nature. He’s the type to charm everyone at court without even trying, and half the time, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. So when he falls for you, it’s not because he’s trying to win you over—he’s just being his usual, flirtatious self, flashing you that cheeky grin and thinking, “Well, why wouldn't you fall for me?”

Aegon doesn’t flirt. He exists and somehow, people think he’s flirting. He could be talking about the weather, and it would still sound like the most seductive thing you’ve ever heard. When he meets you, it’s no different. “You look lovely today,” he says casually, while inside, he’s mentally patting himself on the back for keeping it smooth. But he’s secretly freaking out because, for once, he actually wants to impress someone.

Aegon is normally laid-back, but with you, it’s different. He catches himself staring at you all the time, whether you’re in the middle of a conversation or just passing by. He’ll be sitting in court, pretending to pay attention, but all his focus is on you. And when you catch him staring, he’ll just wink and give you a little smirk, like it was totally on purpose.

Aegon is a very physical person, and once he decides he’s into you, that’s it. He’s always finding ways to touch you, whether it’s a hand on your back, a playful nudge, or just casually throwing an arm around your shoulders. It’s his way of saying, “Hey, I’m into you,” without actually saying it. And if anyone else tries to get too close? Aegon’s immediately at your side, leaning in close and making sure everyone knows who you belong to.

Aegon is a sweet-talker through and through. He’s always showering you with compliments, and the thing is, they sound genuine. You’ll be sitting there, minding your own business, and he’ll just pop up with, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, you know that?” And you know he’s probably said it to a dozen people before, but somehow, with you, it feels different—like he actually means it.

Subtlety is not Aegon’s strong suit. If you’re trying to play it cool or make him work for it, forget it. He’ll take your coy responses as a challenge, and instead of backing off, he’ll just double down on the charm. “Playing hard to get, huh? I love that.” He thinks it’s all part of the game, and he’s having a great time, completely oblivious to how flustered he’s making you.

Aegon has big golden retriever energy. He’s the type who gets excited about everything, especially you. If you say something even remotely interesting, his face lights up, and he’s instantly hooked. “Wait, say that again? That’s amazing!” He’s like a puppy, hanging on your every word, and it’s almost impossible to stay mad at him because his enthusiasm is so infectious.

Aegon’s usually the easy-going type, but if someone else shows interest in you? Oh, he’s stepping in real quick. He’s not possessive in a creepy way, but he’s definitely the kind of guy to slide in next to you with a bright grin, casually draping an arm over your shoulder and making very clear that you’re his. “Hey, love, everything alright here?” He says it with a smile, but his eyes are daring the other person to try something.

Aegon is rarely serious, always cracking jokes and making light of situations. But when he’s with you, sometimes the jokes stop, and he’ll get this intense look in his eyes. He’ll brush a strand of hair behind your ear and say something like, “You know you mean the world to me, right?” And it’s so sincere and unexpected that it catches you off guard. Just when you think he’s nothing but playful charm, he hits you with a moment of real vulnerability.

Underneath all the flirting and jokes, Aegon is deeply loyal. Once he’s decided that he’s yours (and you’re his), he’s all in. He might be playful with others, but with you, it’s different. He’s always there when you need him, ready to drop everything for you. And despite how easy-going he seems, he’s serious about his feelings for you. You’ll never have to wonder where you stand with him, because he’s always making it abundantly clear how much you mean to him.

Aegon loves grand gestures. He’s the type to show up at your window in the middle of the night with flowers, or whisk you away for a spontaneous trip, just because. He’ll leave little notes for you, filled with sweet, silly messages like, “I’m thinking about you. Don’t miss me too much.” He may act like a carefree person, but when it comes to you, he’s an absolute romantic at heart.

Aegon’s favorite thing in the world? Making you smile. He’ll go out of his way to do it, whether it’s through jokes, playful teasing, or simply being his charming self. He’s the kind of guy who, if he sees you upset, will drop everything to make you laugh. And once he’s got that smile out of you? Mission accomplished. You’re his world, and he’ll do anything to keep that smile on your face.

Viserys is the grounding force in Maelor’s whirlwind of trouble and adventure. While Maelor is off flirting, tricking, and scheming, Viserys is the calm, steady one, always there to clean up the mess. He watches from the sidelines with a soft, knowing smile, ready to step in when things go too far. Maelor often drags you into his escapades, but it’s Viserys who quietly ensures you’re safe. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you both survive Maelor’s next ‘great idea.’”

Viserys is the type to care deeply but silently. He’s not the type to loudly declare his feelings, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll subtly make sure you’re taken care of, always offering help without you having to ask. Whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable during a long journey or pulling you out of one of Maelor’s risky games, Viserys is always there, quietly protecting you. He’ll brush it off with a modest smile, saying, “It’s nothing,” but you know better.

When Viserys falls in love, he falls hard. He doesn’t do things halfway—once he’s set his heart on you, that’s it. You’ll notice how his attention lingers on you more than anyone else, how he’s always looking out for your needs before his own. He’ll give you his full attention, listen to everything you say, and remember the smallest details about you. It’s not dramatic or flashy, but it’s deep and unwavering. “You matter more to me than you realize.”

Viserys and Maelor are a duo that’s practically inseparable. While Maelor is the mischievous troublemaker, Viserys is the one who always steps in to help him out of sticky situations. Maelor gets himself into ridiculous trouble all the time, but Viserys is the one who makes sure things don’t go completely off the rails. “Honestly, Maelor. What did you do this time?” He’ll say it with a sigh, but there’s affection in his eyes as he helps his best friend out yet again. It’s a relationship built on deep trust, and you’re often caught in the middle of their dynamic.

Viserys’s love is soft and gentle. He’s not the type to overwhelm you with grand gestures, but he’ll show his love in small, meaningful ways. He’ll remember the way you take your tea, ensure your favorite book is waiting for you after a long day, and offer a reassuring smile when you need it most. His presence is soothing, like a steady flame that never burns too bright but never wavers either. “I’m here for you, always.”

Viserys is smart—incredibly so. He’s the one who sees ten steps ahead, the strategist who quietly observes and plans, ensuring that no one can outwit him. When Maelor’s wild schemes start spiraling out of control, Viserys is already two steps ahead, subtly pulling strings to fix everything. With you, he’s just as attentive, always knowing what you need even before you realize it. “You’re more predictable than you think, but I like that about you.” He’ll say with a teasing smile, his eyes warm with affection.

There’s something about Viserys that’s endlessly comforting. He’s the rock in a storm, the one who remains calm no matter how chaotic things get. When Maelor’s antics get overwhelming or life becomes too much, Viserys is there, offering quiet support. He doesn’t need to say much to make you feel at ease—just being near him is enough. His hand on yours, the way he softly says your name—it’s like everything is okay again.

Viserys is an excellent listener. He’ll sit with you for hours, listening to everything you have to say with genuine interest, no matter how trivial it might seem. He makes you feel heard, like every word you say matters to him. He doesn’t interrupt or offer advice unless you ask—he’s just there, present and engaged. “I’m always here to listen, you know that.”

Viserys’s loyalty is absolute. Once he’s decided he cares for you, there’s no changing his mind. He’s fiercely protective of the people he loves, though he does it in a quiet, understated way. If anyone tries to harm you or Maelor, Viserys won’t hesitate to step in, but he’ll do it with such calm precision that no one will see it coming. He’s the kind of person who would go to great lengths to protect you, without ever needing to brag about it. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll always take care of you.”

Viserys may not be as overtly flirty as Maelor, but he has his own way of showing affection. He’ll give you knowing looks from across the room, say something that seems innocent but has a deeper meaning, and brush his hand against yours just enough to send a shiver down your spine. It’s all so subtle that you might not even realize he’s flirting until you catch the way he smiles when you blush. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Once Viserys falls in love, everything he does starts to revolve around you. He’ll prioritize your needs over his own, making sure you’re comfortable, happy, and safe. He might not be as vocal about his feelings as some, but the way he makes you his priority in every situation speaks volumes. “Your happiness matters to me more than you know.”

Viserys rarely gets rattled. While Maelor might be loud, dramatic, and prone to theatrics, Viserys remains calm and collected in nearly every situation. It takes a lot to get under his skin, and he’s always the one diffusing tense moments with a soft word or a calm demeanor. Even when Maelor gets himself into the wildest situations, Viserys never loses his cool. “I expected this from you.” He’ll say with a sigh, shaking his head fondly.

When Viserys finally admits his feelings, it’s like a dam breaking. All of the quiet affection he’s been holding back comes flooding out in soft, earnest confessions. “I didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure… but I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I love you. Deeply.” His love is steady, unwavering, and all-consuming in the best way possible. Once he’s yours, he’s yours completely, and there’s no turning back.

Maelor and Viserys are best friends through thick and thin. Maelor might be the more adventurous one, but Viserys is always there to support him. He doesn’t get involved in Maelor’s schemes for the thrill—he does it because he cares. And even when Maelor gets them into trouble, Viserys never holds it against him. It’s the same with you—once Viserys cares about someone, his loyalty is unshakable.

Viserys’s romantic gestures are thoughtful and subtle. He doesn’t go for grand displays of affection but instead does things that show how much he knows and cares for you. He’ll leave your favorite flower on your pillow, write you a heartfelt letter when he’s away, or make sure you’re always warm on a cold night. It’s not about impressing you—it’s about making sure you feel loved every day. “I don’t need to shout it from the rooftops. You should know by now how much you mean to me.”

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[viviagriche]

Dekis S. (Lover)

Character use: Dekis Solon

Role: Lover of our MC

General/Theme: One shot/ head cannons/ Fluff

CW: Angst, and full fluff <3.

Gender Reader: NB! Reader

Manga/Manhwa: "Your Throne". 

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: ̗̀➛ He very over protective of you. As your lover he can be very concerned if you just burst into tears; on his shoulder will be very concerned he will punish anyone who made you cry. You were an angel in his eyes. Pure and kind. If anyone made his angel cry their dead to him. Even if it is Eros he will make sure he suffers, through nine stages of hell. Or he could meet Satan in a second. 

: ̗̀➛ He love when his angel s smiling. It reminded him of the other side he couldn't be. He sees himself as selfish when it comes to you. But how could you blame him; he never grew up in a good household with a loving mother and a father. He is very over protective of you if he finds a cut on your hand he will not let you cook ever or carry things. He'll have maids doing that for you or he'll do it for you. 

: ̗̀➛Also, like Achille, this boy won't let you pay for anything. You like that dress consider that a gift from him even though it is very expensive. He'll get it for you. His sister Medea is also over protective of you since you make both of their days with cheesy jokes or pickup lines. You're very considerate of other people's personal space; also what they find humorous  or  not. 

: ̗̀➛ He would threaten the maid who talks sh*t about you and when they won't stop you began to notice their  a  lot maid missing than before. But you shrug it off as a feeling of you going crazy. So you just go look for your loving and  mysterious lover. As you do Medea meanwhile was scolding him about killing the maids who talked bad about you. 

: ̗̀➛ When you having a bad day he just like to swoop you up in his arm and carry you to your comfort area and just cuddle you to sleep. Boy best husband/boyfriend material. Like I can't even compare him to Eros cause he will beat Eros automatically in like 1 whole sec. 

: ̗̀➛ Eros tried to take you away from him saying "He dangerous", or "He might snap and hit you or worse kill you". You didn't believe Eros because you know your boyfriend won't do such a thing. You know how badly he wants to break you guys up so he can marry you. Which is never going to happen; because Eros already has a soon to be wife. Which you felt bad for and encouraged Medea to get her steal away from Eros because Eros is a playboy gross. 

: ̗̀➛ When your boyfriend heard about this the future of that  Empire, where never head from again. Not even from his soon-to-be ex wife that ran away from him with Medea in hand. lmao his ass got played hard. After they found his dead body in the empire lake. Everyone was trying not to laugh. Due to his stupidly of trying to steal the future Villainess Duchess of the Solon. Everyone know that rule after seeing Eros failed to understand that. 

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[acourtofquestions]

I LOVE ROWAN WHITETHORN

That’s it that’s the post… I’m just so impressed by the character development 👏 and my goodness I’m gonna have to re-read Heir of Fire after I finish it because EVERYTHING IN PART 2 HAS CHANGED and now I LOVE him & him with Aelin & Rowaelin & also just him… and that just deserves a post because LETS GO CHARACTERS… and also just R. O. W. A. N.

[thicctails]

Fight Fight Fight!

[highqueenofelfhame]

who am i posting two drabbles in the same week??

rowaelin // 2709 words // masterlist

It was always easy to tell if Rowan had a good or bad day at work.

When it was good, he would sweep in and drop a kiss to Roux’s chubby cheeks if she was awake. If she wasn’t, he would disappear upstairs to check in on her before coming back down and getting a rundown of the day from Aelin. Sometimes she would heat up leftovers from dinner for him to eat, others they would sit and finish whatever movie held her attention before she slipped out and retired to her home in the renovated pool house for the night.

When it was bad, the signs started as soon as he pulled into the driveway. The lights would flash through the window, the garage would open, close, and then… silence. It could be anywhere from five minutes to an hour before he would get out of his car, slowly push the door shut, and quietly trudge in through the mud room. Aelin would barely hear him put down his keys and bag by the door. His footsteps up to Roux’s room were nearly nonexistent if it weren’t for the creaking of that fourth step from the bottom. 

Sometimes he would get into the tiny twin sized bed with his daughter and fall asleep shielding her with his body. Other times he would sit with her while he decompressed before coming down to check in with Aelin on how the night went. On the bad nights, he seldom ate anything at all. He just went through the motions of getting ready for bed until he inevitably passed out from whatever hours-long surgery he’d endured that day. 

Tonight was no different. Aelin tried not to count the ticks of the clock above the fireplace while she watched tv, her stomach twisting with anxiety at the ninety-two minute mark. An hour and a half was almost the longest he had ever stayed in his car like that. She knew it was turned off, so there was no need to worry about fumes. It was just the idea of him sitting in the dark silence while trying to unravel the tragedy of the day that was eating at her. 

The last time this happened, a young girl about Roux’s age had died on his operating table. It wasn’t anything he had done wrong, no. The little girl had just been too badly injured in the car accident. Everyone knew it was a long shot to save her. She’d barely had a pulse when they wheeled her into the operating room, her heart having stopped twice in the ambulance on the way over. 

It wasn’t a story she had learned from Rowan himself, but from one of his closest friends at a barbeque for Roux’s fifth birthday a few weeks back. Aelin’s heart had broken as he quietly recounted the nightmare to Aelin where Rowan couldn’t hear, the two of them sipping their beers while keeping an eye on the father to make sure he didn’t get close enough to hear. It had ended with Aelin needing to turn away to wipe away a few stray tears before anyone noticed, and Fenrys gave her a brief hug. The pair had been busted then, Rowan’s eyes narrowing slightly at the blonde man beside her. Caught red handed learning a story he didn’t want to speak of, she had thought.

There had been a few other times since then that he’d taken his moment of silence, but nothing this long since that had happened. It had Aelin’s mind reeling with what might have gone wrong, her body itching to make her way to the garage to check on him and make sure he was okay. But there was a line there that she didn’t want to cross. She didn’t want to intrude on whatever process he underwent to come down after a hard day. 

But her eyes didn’t leave the garage door, her body turned so she could see his face when he came in. As much as he needed to be sure that Roux was okay when he had shitty days like today surely was, Aelin needed to make sure that he was okay, too. For a thousand and one different reasons, she ignored why that was. She was his nanny, he was her boss, and she was only worried because she cared for him in the way that all nannies cared about the families they worked for that treated them well. Right?

The movie she’d paused was long forgotten, the brand of the television bouncing from side to side on an idle screen.  It was another three agonizingly slow minutes before the garage door opened, the scrape of the sill against the floor as deafening as it was startling. And then there was the look on his face. 

Much like a couple months ago, his face was hewn from stone. Even from here she could see the signs that tears had slipped past the iron clad dam he usually had on his emotions. Red cheeks, slightly puffy under eyes. His nose had been kissed by grief, raw from how many times she assumed he’d blown or wiped at it with a tissue or his sleeve. The usually straight posture he had was deflated with shoulders that slumped inward. 

The one thing different about this than the others was that he had immediately zoned into where she sat on the couch, his eyes roving over her face and what he could see of her body. Almost like this time it was her that he was checking on, that he needed to know was okay. 

Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a single finger before making his way upstairs. When he was halfway up, he looked at her over his shoulder one more time before she would disappear from his view. 

The soft jiggle of Roux’s door handle being turned was her cue to rise from the couch. Her feet carried her to the kitchen where she immediately started a kettle for some tea and then began pulling the night’s dinner from the fridge to warm him a plate. If he didn’t come back down, it would be there when he did. Worst case scenario, she would just force him to eat breakfast in the morning even if it meant waking him from a dead sleep.

Fifteen minutes hadn’t passed when she heard that creaky step announce his descent. Aelin stayed quiet in the kitchen, readying two mugs on the island for tea while the microwave hummed a quiet song behind her. If she wasn’t always so acutely aware of Rowan Whitethorn, she probably wouldn’t have heard his bare feet as he made his way into the kitchen. Still, she said nothing in case he didn’t want to talk and simply proceeded to make his tea precisely how he liked it. 

As she placed the kettle down on a dishrag, Rowan’s arms braced either side of her, locking her in place where she stood. He was so close that his chest was pressed against her back. Even through their shirts she could feel the heat radiating off his body, off his biceps that rested against her shoulders. And then his forehead was gently resting against the back of her head while he took a deep breath, almost like he was… savoring the way she smelled. Like she hadn’t been wrong when he first walked in and she was the one he’d needed to know was safe. 

Instead of freezing up like her body wanted to, she kept up the task of making the tea. Or trying to, anyway. The few times she had been this close to Rowan had always resulted in her brain short circuiting, and more than anything she was trying to not make a mess of the boiling water and the glass cups she handled with shaking hands. 

“I made you tea,” she whispered, pushing the cups toward the side of the counter with the barstools.

“Thank you.” More-so than usual, Rowan’s voice was low and gravely. Another tell that at some point he had almost definitely been crying. The only other time he sounded like that was first thing in the morning or the few times she’d been around him when he was drunk and exhausted, accent heavier than usual and voice so low it gave her goosebumps.

Instead of replying she just nodded slightly so as to not disturb him. He simply kept breathing in the scent of her lavender shampoo, each exhale tickling the back of her neck and shooting small zips of electricity down her spine.  The microwave beeped three times to proudly alert that his dinner was finished, but neither of them moved to deal with it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Moving her gaze from the tea, she looked down at his hands. His knuckles went white at the question and he inhaled deeply one more time before turning her so she was facing him. 

Their faces were so close that she could count the small smattering of freckles he had across his nose from summers spent in the sun. The rich green of his eyes were more prominent than she’d ever seen them, the color enhanced by the vessels that were bloodshot. Gold and brown and every shade of green she could name was swirled in his irises. They weren’t just green anymore than hers were just blue. 

“I lost a patient today.” His words weighed heavily between them despite being barely more than the minty breath across her face.

“I know.” Rowan nodded once, his fingers ghosting over her hip. For several heartbeats she watched his hands almost touch her, graze her skin, and pull back into fists before starting the process over again. Like he was fighting himself not to touch her even though he wanted�� or needed– to. 

“It’s okay,” she murmured, looking up at him through thick lashes. “You can– it’s okay.”

Consent seemed to be the key. Rowan was tender as he gathered her up in his arms, treating her like she was one of those cups behind them that might break if handled too roughly. Knowing he needed some sort of physical affection, she melted into him easily. That thing that had been brewing between them, that she had convinced herself was all in her head, was now a wire pulled taught as she pressed her cheek against his chest. 

Rowan let out a shaky breath, his lips pressing to the top of her head in a lingering kiss. Her own arms wrapped around his sides, hands sliding over the muscles of his back before meeting in the middle. With feather light touches, she traced invisible shapes and lines with her fingernails over the fabric of his t-shirt. One of his hands cradled the back of her head with his thumb making soft soothing strokes over the side of her neck. The other was splayed across her back to keep her tightly pressed to him. 

She didn’t have any complaints. He was freshly showered– likely using the facilities at work– and smelled like pine and snow and so distinctly Rowan. Aelin wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the way he smelled was quickly becoming one of her favorite things in the world. And even if this was all only in her head, she would take this small gift from the gods and run like hell with it. 

The cocoon of his arms shifted around her and he pulled back enough to look at her face. His fingers slipped between the silky strands of her hair until they rested in the little dip at the base of her skull with his thumb on her jaw. So much emotion swirled in his eyes as she looked up at him, not knowing what was going to come next. Her heart pounded like a timpani all the same. 

“The woman that died on my table tonight shared a birthday with you.” Aelin noticed the way his throat bobbed as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. His brows were furrowed, his muscles tight beneath her fingertips. “I didn’t know that until after, but… her hair was almost the same golden hue. Her eyes were blue. Not like yours, nobody has eyes like yours. But they were still blue. And in the brief second I saw her barely conscious before she was put under, from across the room they looked close enough.”

“Rowan–”

“I couldn’t save her. I tried but I couldn’t save her and all I could see was you on the table.”

“I’m right here,” was the only thing she could think to say. It seemed to be just enough because he nodded, leaning forward to rest his brow against hers. Their breath mingled between them, his eyes falling closed as he steadied his ragged breathing. Aelin was almost positive she could feel his heart thundering away in his chest– or maybe that was her own pulse she felt down to her fingers. 

Rowan’s eyes opened once more to search hers, his calloused thumb catching her full bottom lip as he said, “I think it’s about time we stop dancing around this, yeah?” 

“Not like this,” she whispered, the words falling like stones between them. His head lifted, eyebrows pinched together. “I don’t– I don’t mean no. I don’t–” Aelin let out a shaky laugh and moved her hands to his sides. Rowan didn’t move away, which was good considering the bang up job she was doing with words at the moment.

“You think this is just a grief response.”

“I think you’ve had a really long and hard day and I don’t want you to do or say something you’re going to regret tomorrow–”

“I could never regret you, Aelin.” 

And then his lips were pressing softly against hers, asking permission where she didn’t feel like she ever needed to give it in the first place. For months she had known that she was his, however he wanted to have her. That she had desperately wanted it to be this but never would have pushed without him giving in.

So she kissed him back fiercely, relishing in the way his hand tightened on her hips but softened where he held her face. She breathed every second of the moment in, the same way she had all the others.  It had been months of push and pull, of subtle touches and words with double meanings. Rowan and Roux were everything that she wanted for her future. She just couldn’t believe he wanted her to be part of theirs. 

They kissed until the tea had cooled and his dinner was cold. What he had been hungry for wasn’t food, she found out, when he carried her all the way up to his room and quietly shut the door behind him. He had been starving for her, to feel his hands over her soft skin, to feel her nails leaving marks across his back. Rowan swallowed up her moans as quickly as she released them from swollen lips and chased her own release with his own. 

They both drifted to sleep like tangled vines. When she was the first to wake just after the sun came up– her biological clock alerting her that Roux would be up and wanting breakfast soon– anxiety had begun to pool in her stomach. What if he did regret last night? If it had all been the result of grief and him needing a warm body to coax him into a dreamless sleep? He was her boss, and she loved Roux more than any of the kids she had ever nannied for. What if she had just thrown that all away on a whim? 

Her mind was reeling as she laid beside him. Back and forth she went about whether or not she should quietly leave, and just as she decided that she maybe should, Rowan began to stir from his deep slumber. His arm tightened around her waist, tugging her closer as he rubbed his nose against her shoulder. A laugh almost escaped her lips, but worry had an iron-clad grip on her nerves. 

It all vanished, though, when he opened his eyes and saw her next to him. Because the moment his sleepy eyes met hers, Rowan smiled.

[diorncoke]

I think I’ll keep you here in my arms forever ୧⋆｡🔑

˚⋆ ☽ °˖ summary: reader never thought her life would become something more than just being a sick teenager with a rare skin disorder. she definitely didn’t expect to have one of the most potent aliens on the planet to be fond of her.

˚⋆ 🕊️°✩⋆ authors note: i ran to write this because, my goodness, does it make sense lmao:,) — word count: 3.1k

🛸 characters: transformers: rise of the beasts:, unicron, / x black! fem! little! reader ♡

🛸 content warning(s): no set plot line, mentions of wounds, descriptions of skin issues, talks of money problems, the word ¡slave! used on multiple occasions, bottle feedings, cuddles, fluff, littles are knowledgeable, cliche asf ;) — third person pov!

🛸 before reading: her dress & bottle, https://pin.it/fvoSBYJ , https://pin.it/2pSc9aG

🫧*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Reader twiddles her sandal-covered toes in the passenger seat of her older brother's car. He had come into this vehicle from doing some underground work. He never told her anything except his adrenaline rush when he begged the wheel in said car. Sitting in the same car, she pushed her tiny fingers against the dashboard, feeling relaxed from the vents tingling against her red patch.

The siblings sat in the parking area of their apartment complex where their mother lay sleeping, for goddess knows how long her shift would be in the morning. Taking care of a sick child who didn’t even have enough mental energy to do online school, let alone get a full-time job to support her family. She hates watching her brother hold a simple cup of coco milk that he crushed her medicine in—in comparison, rushing to put breakfast on the table for their mom. All she was was a burden.

The rain hit the windows of the vehicle, watching the raindrops race against one another in her mind. Secretly she hoped one of the rights won against the other raindrop. She smiled as she cheered loudly in her head.

The excitement died, feeling small patches were highlighter red and hurt like a semi-truck hitting a Honda. Taking a sharp breath intake feeling her stomach cramp from another patch forming from the a/c being too uncool. It wasn’t something she wanted to state to her brother, all he wanted to do was help, and she was complaining about it not being good enough.

“Come here.” Noah carefully lifted the reader from the passenger side, grimacing at how light the teen felt. God, when had she lost all this weight? He could feel her ribs through his shirt. He knew the girl ate - he made sure of it. Constantly bombarding her with snacks and bottles of Ensure - he knew sometimes the meds did weird things to her metabolism and eating patterns, but she still should have had more meat on her bones.

The chilled feeling of his leather jacket hitting her delicate skin felt lovely. She could take a nap right here in the arms of her protector. Her bony arms found their way against his shoulders, giving him a cold hug with all the strength she could.

“You’re being cute. What’d you do?” Noah chuckled, feeling her ruffle her fingers against their similar hair between her fingers. She fought back a smile from underneath her chin, even though she was terrible at hiding it. Her nose scrunched, feeling him twiddle his fingers underneath her lip. Knowing each crevice of her face would make her giggle and give up her wants.

“Just missed you.” Noah smiled quietly, knowing she had seen it anyways. He distracted himself by placing his large hand on her stomach to lift the remaining texture up and away from her irritated skin.

“Feels good?” He questioned, holding her head against his chest with a soft kiss against it.

“Mmhm. The car is pretty. Did you name them?” Reader answered sweetly, rubbing her fingers against the roof of the car. There was something so pretty about the car. It was like a shiner new toy from the store. It was outshining her old ones in her toy chest.

She had never been inside something so expensive in her life. With her skin condition, a cooling feeling helped her hives calm themselves down tremendously. But with being low income, they couldn’t afford an a/c. Let alone a proper one.

Unknown to her, Noah felt that his new accompanied friend could form an a/c high enough to cool her inflamed stomach and arms. Causing such a connection exposed something he didn’t think he expected.

Abruptly the car shook forwards, and the feeling of the car they comfortably resided in came apart. The interior shifted from a two-door vehicle into small metal compartments that slowly pushed the siblings outside of it. The force of the movement made each of their heads shake harshly, though it was the last thing on her mind.

The being in front of her stood at least 20 feet tall. Though it seemed this one was bent over laughing at who knows what. All it caused was her to hide behind her brother, though she still peaked at the blue and silver thing. Her ( eye colour) eyes squinted, gazing between Noah and the metal action figure. The reader could almost tell he seemed annoyed. Did he know this strange-looking thing that was not from around here? And why didn’t he tell her?

She still curled into a tight ball peaking at the transformed being before her. She could feel her skin break out in hives from the beaded sweat on her neck. Noah’s senses were on overdrive seeing his little sister grimace in pain. He knew that his new friend didn’t mean any harm to her or knew of her condition. But seeing her in the state wasn’t something he could ever get used to.

“Dude!”

“Aw shit, my bad. I didn’t mean to scare the little lady.” Mirage looked upon a delicate being in the arms of his newly founded friend. Noah offered her comfort, allowing himself to haul his hands in her curls, though still shaking ever so slightly. She winced initially but didn’t move her hand away from his touch in discomfort or resistance. Relaxing against her brother's touch, it was no wonder why Mirage interrupted their moment.

“It tickled.” The action figure pouted while kicking a small rock in between his foot. Noah looked down at his sister, forcing her to push her figure out before the transformer. Out of all the metal things he had met, Mirage would be the last one on his list to hard him or his little sister.

“Hi.” Reader grimaced against her tightly closed teeth. Her hands twiddle behind her silk pyjamas, cranking her neck upwards to him. She wasn’t one to hold a grudge, especially against someone who could crush her with their foot. Plus, he looked so sweet.

🌿🫧*ੈ✩‧₊˚ The reader didn’t know how she had gotten captured by such a feared hunter in the universe. She had taken her time walking in the cage with Noah and Elena. She was running her hands on the symbols she had recognized. The low light area turned froze with anxiety when one of Scourge’s pets ran across the wall she stood against. All she felt was one of his paws embedded in her skin, coated in her blood.

The harsh sandy beds embellished her tanned skin, and she felt its mouth hovering over her neck before biting down harshly. Her voice squeaked, feeling the puncture wounds wheeze throughout her voice. Her eyes filled with tears before they fell on her cheeks, feeling the teeth pressed harder with each movement it made. Her forehead beaded with sweat, thinking of her life flashing over her eyes once more. She thought it would be her own body, but it was clear that she had new friends that she was fond of. They came ones that could kill her with a flick of their wrist.

“Noah!” She screamed the best she could, knowing the creature pressed on her voice box. It was a childish cry that couldn’t distinguish between a crow. She felt herself become limb against the creature's teeth, knowing any more movement could paralyze her. Her mind hyper-focused on her breathing, and she had her to notice the creature had pulled her outside, clearly making its way to its owner.

But nothing was more scary than being forcefully placed in an unknown environment with no time to adapt.

Unicron didn’t quite understand what was compelling him to be so gentle to this young girl presented in front of him. Maybe it was because she previously held the key against her chest like a teddy bear floating above the environment he only used for his slaves he wrongfully surrendered to abuse. His gears winced, thinking she had known of this like the thought of seeing her hating or disliking him would make him perish. Something about her tugged heartstrings he didn’t know he had.

“Come here, little one.” He watched the being they called (name) present her face towards him, hearing the chilling soft voice he used on her. He hated how his slave pushed the little thing to her knees before she could process what he had called upon her. The sight made him want to inflict complete charge pain on this Scourge who dared to push her to the ground. She could only wince, feeling the robot push his metal fingers into her shoulders while tears and heat coursed throughout her body. In her short time, she loved the feeling of her new friend's metal, but the robot beside her felt cold in a mean way. His energy made hers melt.

“Unhand her.” Not a second later, scourge did, placing his hands behind him like he was trained to do. The energy around her seemed lighter as he lifted her with his mind softly from her kneeled position. However, she seemed scared to look into his eyes, obviously from the interaction with his slaves in such a short time. He heard her sniffle while she put her hands in front of her. Patches of brutal red formed on her skin like they did the first time he watched his subjects claw at her at the lab. She was sick, her body almost gawking at her flesh.

Looking behind, seeing the world turn to standard colours around her shocked her. The surroundings she had once known weren’t something she could get used to. The air felt thinner; each breath felt like the half it did when she was on earth. The skin that surrounded her insides didn’t feel like they were her own, almost replaced by someone she didn’t recognize. She wished she listened to her brother when he said to stay in the safe house in Peru. She knew she would need it as she spent the majority of her bed rest exploring ancient relics of a time before jokes even commenced. It was something she had always been fascinated with.

And to think of her situation, she would die in her room scrolling through the web.

“What brings you here?” Unicron questioned, knowing his eyes fought to leave the deeply embedded skin on her neck.

“The scary spider thingy,” Reader added a quick sir at the end to ensure the safety. Her neck broke out in hives feeling sweat from her hair touching her neck form. The robot was just as intimidating as her mother, throwing a chancla six feet away and still reaching her. Her gaze barely met the beings, mostly keeping her head down, moving them occasionally towards Scourge.

“Do not fear us. Come closer.” Unicron’s voice softened much more, sweetening his native tongue towards her. He constructed a hand to show what he was doing. The all-powerful couldn’t help but move the little one towards his with the slightest flick of his wrist. His heart pounded in his chest, and he watched her come forward, entering his space. The scent of a human heart formed the same way he did in his ears. She smelled of medical crème and the mixture of honey and flowers that prickled her tiny fingers. The same ones she ran against her patched arms. She was nervous.

Her floating figure was the size of one of his fingers. The sight almost made his heart flutter. The sight of her was something so regular yet intense. Eternal, beyond the universe, beyond his galaxies of worlds he had concurred and destroyed with the same hand he placed her softly onto the very pad of his metal hand. The delicate touch of her flowery salmon dress pooling against it swirled his world in a colour scheme he had yet to see in his world. The tiniest/largest of curls popped each time her twitched eyes did while looking upwards towards him as her braided pigtails flapped against her (hair length) sweetly.

“I do not mean to interrupt you, Master. But she must be going back now. Her human friends are destroying everything we built to find her.” Scourge grimaced, knowing the man did not like being interrupted or spooked out of turn. He flinched before feeling the pulsating electricity that stroked his nerves heavily. Though he never actually felt it. His eyes opened, feeling his master form himself into a much smaller self to play with what the humans called a little. He would soon only be four feet higher than himself. It will be a sight for sore eyes. For once, he was not withering over in pain.

“Let them. She will be of no harm.” His formed face picked up what they called a smile. Feeling her hand touch each crevice of his hand. A small giggle coming from her chest warmly filled his ears as they twitched towards the sound.

“Excuse me, sir.” Unicron flicked his eyes toward the little one in his palm. The quiet politeness of her tiny voice was utterly sweet. Reader hesitantly looked upwards to the eyes of the robot while twiddling with her thumbs. Watching the light press of her dimples showing underneath that beautiful tanned skin, he fell in love with her. The nagging feeling of not being watched so inventively by someone she wasn’t close to. She was left with a nauseating feeling in her stomach. Or maybe it was because the air change left her lightheaded and hungry. The tiniest of grumbles coming from her belly notified him of her hunger.

“Yes?” His voice silkily lost all of the roughness in his throat.

“I in no way mean to bother you. Of course. But maybe I could have something to eat. Sir.” She felt uneasy in the silence that came after her sentence. Swallowing thickly, she felt the hairs on her neck stand up, watching the robot adjust his posture closer to her. It was the thought of his twitching ears that made her feel comfortable enough to ask. He notes that he shall do it more often.

Though the nervous demeanour didn’t last for long, the reader watched the man fumble to his knees slowly in approaching her space. Leaving a rumble from his weight, she wafted her nose in his calming scent of sandalwood and metal. It was as refreshing as rain hitting her window, watching it closely while she smothered herself with plushies.

Though it was unknown to her, the robot made her a meal with his mind. The all-powerful being had yet to commence himself to being small enough to place her in the crevice of his lap and, at the same time, doing so, still at least four feet taller than (your height) girl. Unicron gave the universe the slightest smile as she became the size of a toddler rather than a pebble on his palm.

Floating over the pair was a baby blue co-bottle with an adult tip that was perfect for her. The contents inside were something the humans called angel milk. A tasty treat would be ideal for the grumbles of her little belly, hm?

“Baba?” Her voice was nothing less than sweet, pointing towards the milk bottle now in front of her face. Her eyes glistened like the diamond of a chandelier dangling from the top of the ceiling, pooling into her (eye colour) like it was always meant to. She could feel her mouth instantly melt to open to the exposure of a bottle. It was unknowingly something she had craved deep within her heart.

“You like?” Unicron appealed to her big eyes staring at the bottle. Not even questioning where it even came from, just that she wanted it quite severely.

“Scourge, leave us.” He demanded. His hard eyes watched the being bow before him before the portal between the two worlds closed.

He delicately picked the reader up; the metal fingers quickly chilled her patch. He watched the minor redness in the corner of her eyes with tiredness and hunger. The reader weighed almost nothing cradled in Unicron's large arm. He couldn’t imagine anything but living in this beautiful moment with her. He cooed, watching her lips wrap around its nipple eagerly. The sound of suckling on her milk while she looked into his deep and cold eyes only softened in the presence quickly.

“I am deeply sorry for my- um, friends and the way they treated you. I will fix this. For you, my sweat heart.” Unicron hesitated about using words not meant for such a small child. All he felt was himself using his other hand to push the small amounts of hair that fell into her face. Reader smiled against his finger, hearing words that were so simple yet powerful. The thought of ever leaving made her a little sad. She would have to enjoy being in his arms while it lasted.

Unicron began to bounce his knee, whispering sweet encouragements into her ear. Before he knew it, the world amongst him was slightly brighter. The feeling of a blanket coming into his universe wrapped around the little one in his arms. As well as sighting her flesh wounds beginning to layer among themselves, healing her completely.

Within a bit, she fell asleep in the arms of a powerful creature that torments people for a living. A tender smile pulled at his lips as a fond expression crossed his face. Leaning down, he allowed his hands to hover over her cheekbones. Then, closing the distance, he gently pressed his forehead against the readers. He was falling backwards against his throne. Relaxing.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Just as Unicron was about to pull himself into his soft bed, he felt his chest heavy — weird.

As he looked down, there she laid, his sweet baby angel. She was hiding her dainty arm up against his arm, gripping it tenderly. In contrast, her other hand was stuck in front of her mouth with her thumb sucking softly back and forth smoothly. She felt warm but not in a harmful way, tangles in her sulked sheets that caved the delicate scent she wished to devour whole. He felt himself unclench any forms of tension throughout his body. The jaw he clenched tightly, the creasing that showed in dents softened in sight of his little one.

They weren’t going to be taking his newly-founded baby any time soon.

🌿🫧*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I hope you enjoyed!! 💗

most recent rework — wednesday, august 2nd :)

[lxnarphase]

━ ❝ OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! ❞

✮₊‧⁺...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL

no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.

not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.

one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.

it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.

'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'

'i know, my wife.'

'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'

'you begged for it, my wife.'

'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'

'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'

but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.

he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.

except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...

what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?

hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.

he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.

"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"

"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"

"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"

before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the baby—gentle like it's the finest glass, she instructs—before turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.

"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.

the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.

all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.

everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.

but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.

instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.

"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"

this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.

she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."

he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.

but, he couldn't lie.

she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.

"sukuna, watch your mouth!"

he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.

"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how to—!”

oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.

“sukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.

“…apologies, my wife.”

chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.

after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.

"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.

"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.

you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.

a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

but then...her eyes open.

both sets.

he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.

his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.

she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.

she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.

getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.

so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.

all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.

yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.

but now?

sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.

he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."

"hmm..."

a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.

"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.

"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."

"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."

"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[acourtofquestions]

Mood. Same. Me. It vibes. It’s life. Yup.

[chuluoyi]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

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

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

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

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?

[incorrecttom]

my love

in their eyes, you are a beauty. A beauty which they could only meet once in their whole life time, and if needed they'd let everyone perish to their demise but not yours. They are ready to light the world in a matter of seconds for you - it was because you loved them, genuinely. You were there to pick up their pieces, you were there to calm them. Like sun to moon.

They are not some kind of hero as people make them out to be, in fact they are selfish. Selfish enough to not push that person away who actually loved them. Selfish enough to dance with you in the ruins of the world.

They have suffered enough, every time losing a person, every single time watching as another person gets slayed. Yet, you are here standing, breathing, laughing. A laugh which makes their heart skips beat.

To think of giving you up to someone? for some greater good-? They know that you'd want that- in fact they are well aware that you are ready to sacrifice yourself. And they can't let that happen.

Knowing you will not be remembered, even worse you not by their side. And expecting to find someone else who isn't you. How could you even think about that? How can they meet someone as perfect as you?

| Callisto | Helio | Ijekel | Lucifer | Satan | Scaramouche | Dabi | Malleus |

@roseadleyn , @crownxie , @baby0blanche , @dxmoness , @salvatvre , @that-one-pretty-bitch , @gallahxn , @yourlocalintrovertt , @orlic1a , @lady-navier0357 , @nyrwve , @starboo-txt + all my moots

[alexiroflife]

"in every life"

curse reincarnation, fluff

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: you, a former sorcerer and sukuna's wife, are killed in the heian era. sukuna does not believe in a life without you, so he takes it upon himself to bring you back a thousand years later

to sum it up: you are sukuna's life, and no matter how long he has to wait, he will bring you back to him by any means necessary

WC: 3,621

Warning(s): angst in the beginning, reader death (but you're revived), brief icky descriptions of a vessel's possession

-> ask | sukuna fic list

Sukuna remembers the exact moment you left him, soul fluttering almost gracefully from your eyes as your body fell limply into his four arms.

The moment replays in his mind as though it had only happened yesterday, or perhaps as recently as a few hours prior. Time has never been something the king of curses worried himself over, for his strength and existence exceeded such mortal constructs, but when his thoughts wander to you as frequently as air fills and deflates from his lungs, the very concept grows skewed and suddenly, time is a matter of great importance to him.

A king is nothing without his queen beside him, his rock, his partner, and that is what you are. That is what you were, but Sukuna refuses to address you in any form of past tense because your temporary withdrawal from the planet and from his side would never alter the fact that you are his, that you have been his, and that you will be his until the end of time. 

Sukuna has never been one for romantics, for connections that tie his free spirit down from the unfettered, terrifying rule that he leads, but when you entered his life, his opinions shifted and his ambitions changed, making room for you at his side upon his throne. 

The two of you had been married for years before you left him. Sukuna had never bothered to count, but now he finds himself mulling over the years’ contents in search of a piece of your memory that can stay with him until the time comes for you to return to his hand. 

When you were alive, Sukuna never fathomed you leaving his side. He almost feels he should punish you for so abruptly taking an absence from him without permission, castigating your spirit until he feels that the space you once occupied close to him emanates remnants of an apology, of guilt, of a promise to never do such a foolish thing ever again. 

When you were alive, you were a sight to behold, a perfect fit for the title of his wife. You were deserving of each and every privilege he bestowed upon you; of holding his face in your small, dainty hands, of pressing your lips to the textured plate of his face, of throwing your legs over his thighs as you settle onto his lap with a large, burly arm coming around you and securing you there for all of his servants and former concubines to see how high you sit amongst him and how low they remain beneath the two of you. 

You always said what you were thinking. While he ensured that everyone within and outside of his temple feared him, you were always unaffected by his intimidating presence. He remembers one instance in which you were lying beneath him, a mess of silk fabrics swarming your bare figure over your reserved place in his bed with your hair splayed out messily over the pillows and your eyes weighted with a foolish look of what he could only describe as enchantment and tender allegiance.

He feels the ghost of your fingers trace his jaw as he looks down at you quietly, dwarfing you in his mass. A smile touches your soft lips with a rosy hue swirling over your (s/c) skin. 

“Your eyes are quite beautiful.”

Your voice is a whisper of past enamorations through Sukuna’s ear as his brows arch in reminiscence. He remembers how he glared at you in confusion, face hard though he always allowed you to continue admiring him, to continue touching him without consequence. His eyes, which mirror the color of fresh, crimson blood as he has watched it gurgle from the mouths and limbs of his victims, staining the streets, his hands, and his monstrous legacy, are windows you believe to be… beautiful.

Your sentiments never failed to befuddle him. He never did understand why you associated such a ferocious beast with beliefs so light and pure. He is not beautiful, he had thought. He never desired to be beautiful. He is simply Ryoman Sukuna, enough of himself to be categorized in unique isolation, separate from your labels of aesthetic charm and peace. 

You’re silly. Silly with love and submission, he thinks, but he has never denied you of these admirations though he fails to agree. 

Besides, you are his wife. He would have allowed you to worship him in any way you pleased if you asked, and in truth, you hardly did ask. You knew what you were to Sukuna, how you and only you remained the only soft spot that the salmon haired demon withheld in his breast. You were beyond requesting approval to love him in the ways you saw fit, and Sukuna was pleased because you knew, in all spaces, that you were his and he was yours. 

Among all the trophies of battles won, of cities conquered, of titles obtained, you are Sukuna’s greatest prize. 

His love for you was always silent, long glances and grips of the waist, orders to slaughter on your behalf and the pat of his hand over his beefy thigh to beckon you over. His love was an unrestrained space for you to express your desires, to demand his attention, and his compliance with a veil of frustration poorly masking his easy willingness to give you anything you pleased. His love was long, sleepless nights, the marking of his territory by means of stinging bites and purple bruises over your smooth skin that no living being in his wake could mistake for anything but a reminder of your connection to him. 

His love was you incarnate, just a woman before hell’s greatest crown, but his love no less. His wife. His queen. His eternity.

Sukuna does not know why he mourned you when you died. He found himself reacting impulsively, in a short-lived panic when your blood spilled over his skin and your eyes lost the light that he’d been following through the tunnel of his rein for years. 

He knows death is a taboo concern only for mortals to fret over, but when you die, he feels as though he has died himself. Your life flashes before his eyes, your time with him, and this strange ache swarms his body and manifests as a ball in his throat as his ruby hues melt over you in alarm. 

He struggles to accept your parting. He’s viciously angry, a horrible wreck that his servants fear stepping too close into proximity as the time passes and your vacancy weighs itself over his temple and his body like a mountain. He had believed your death to be painful, but the period that follows, the period of waiting stings him like no pain he has endured before. 

A king needs his queen, and without you, no matter for how long, he feels empty. He rampages his heartache away, but it no longer holds the satisfaction it did when you were with him, watching from the sidelines and cheering him on. His estate feels colder somehow, the dent you’ve left in his bed losing its shape and the memory of you fading from others’ minds, but not from his. Never from his. 

Sukuna knows that he will see you again. In any era, no matter how much farther into the future, he will find you once more, bring you back to his embrace, and dust off the crown that he has reserved for your pretty head alone. 

He holds onto a piece of you, storing it safely, awaiting the time to revive you even within his own cursed slumber after having sealed himself for a millenia, severing parts of him and scattering it over the country.

You, however, remain stowed safely in one place. A place he will remember to return to when he reawakens in rebirthed flesh.

Now, a millenia following your untimely death, Sukuna stares emptily at the woman before him, curling and tossing around with bound wrists and ankles at his feet.

She’s crying, screams of horror rising into the starry sky as Sukuna’s eyes glint menacingly beneath the moonlight. He watches her carefully, curling his lips. He looks at this pest, this fragile, forgettable mortal woman and sees everything that you are not. For a moment, he hesitates, his fingers clutching over the ancient parchment wrapped object he holds protectively within his grasp at his side. 

His brows draw together in frustration induced by your vessel. He knows he picked wisely, however, he can not deny the hesitation that captures his mind when he contemplates whether this vessel will do your worth justice. Whether it will truly bring you back the way he plans for you to be. 

He holds up the object in his hand, your energy emitting from behind the paper and through his veins, easing into his blackened soul. You are practically calling to him, holding his hand, murmuring into his ear that it will be okay. 

Sukuna is reminded then and there solely by the spirit of you that nothing in this world could even begin to dwindle the brilliance in which you shine, that even within the body of a bird or a squirrel, your essence would burst through. You will reincarnate wholly as how you left him, and as nothing less. 

With a heavy exhale through his nose, Sukuna unravels the object, tossing the parchment to the ground, and takes a step forward to approach the young woman squirming in the grass before him. He walks over her, feet planted on either side of her figure, and bends down. Her eyes go white with terror as snot and tears dribbles over her nose and down her cheek. Sukuna looks into her coldly, grasping a hand over her face and digging his black nails into her jaw. 

She shudders an agonizing, shrill screech that is soon muffled by the manner in which Sukuna squeezes her cheeks inward and forcefully pries her mouth open. 

With a steely, disconnected glare, Sukuna takes the object imbued with your cursed energy, your ring finger. He pulls your wedding band from the decrepit digit and pushes it to the woman’s lips. Her eyes go wide as she chokes over her jaw’s lack of mobility, and the taste of something foreign and timeworn on her tongue. Her stuttered, whimpering gasps release and she gargles once Sukuna pushes the object down her throat. He slaps his hand back over her mouth as it slides down her throat and she twitches uncontrollably, eyes cracking with red veins. 

The king of curses holds her still as her body flops wildly, her chest lurching forward and limbs flying about. Her body can not handle the intrusion of a thousand year old sorcerer’s influence, so it fails. Her eyes roll into her skull and her fingers twitch once her limbs have stilled in the grass. A symphony of crickets chirping lifts into Sukuna’s ears as the woman beneath him goes completely silent, dead, still.

He waits. After a millennia of existence confined to cursed flesh, after years of the cold left in your wake nipped at his skin, after battling bodies for dominance over a vessel, he waits just a few seconds more for you.

After it seems as though he has lost you for a second time, the body’s eyes flicker. Sukuna stills above you, pupils shrunken in anticipation.

Movement shifts beneath him. A chest rises, and breathing begins steadily through it. The color of this vessel’s skin shifts, transitioning slowly, milking into the hue of gentle (s/c) that Sukuna once caressed with his rough fingers. Color flushes through pale cheeks, and irises of (e/c) roll back from the skull and stare widely ahead, directly into Sukuna’s gaze. Finally, your voice comes, a gentle hum of confusion and discomfort as you regain your lost senses.

Sukuna’s heart skips as the familiar warmth of your body emanates from beneath him again, and his hand is slowly sliding from your parted lips. He feels as though he’s just run a marathon despite his inability to wind himself. He breathes out heavily, gradually, and silence envelopes the two of you in the darkness of the late night. 

While Sukuna had planned this from the very moment you went dead in his hands, he feels somehow starstruck by you. You look as beautiful as you were centuries in the past, skin smooth, brows curled, lips soft as though you had not been gone from his life for more than a brief second. You have returned to him as he had thoughtfully calculated, and yet, he can not fathom the fact that you are here at long last, mere centimeters away, manifested into truth by his graze of your chin. 

The muscles in your brows pull together in disbelief, glimmering eyes shining over as you take in the sight before you. The last thing you felt was a blade slicing into your heart and ripping down through your body, the last vision of Sukuna racing to throw you into him as your opponent met his end with the selective mutilation of his internal organs at your husband’s hard, feral, red glance.

You blink hurriedly, shooting a hand out to your husband’s bicep. “...Ryo?” you whisper in a trembling voice, knowing him by gaze and presence and touch alone. 

The said demon’s brows angle and his body lurches forward with a sharp exhale upon hearing your voice utter his name outside of the confines of his mind’s nostalgia and imagination. He is overcome by the return of you to him, eyes fiery with longing for his once lost love and shoulders aching as the weight that had been crushing down finally releases. The sensation of your fingers curling over his arm sends chills down his spine, for time has never altered Sukuna’s course of existence, but time tells in the way he physically shivers when your loving contact revives on his skin after having been stripped of him for what feels like eternity.

Tears pool in your eyes and your shaky hands raise to smooth over his face, exploring his marked skin and familiarizing yourself with the structure of the being you fell in love with many lifetimes ago. Sukuna’s brow flinches as you feel over his face, and his own palm cradles over your cheek, dwarfing your head in the fashion it always used to as the back of his fingers skim over your heated flesh. 

“Ryomen,” you say his name again, voice crumbling and your shoulders jerking in awe.

He trips down into you, hands clutching over your head as you guide his face down with his hasty movements. Your name tumbles hoarsely from his rumbling voice, against your lips, and slotting into your mind in a haze as his lips meet yours urgently. 

You cry gently into him, lips parting and pushing back in as he kisses you fervently, savoring you, burrowing you into his body’s memory to recover the time he has spent deprived of you. Your hands fly over his neck, down his back, detailing the ridges and the muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his shirt that you know so well. He presses himself down into you, pulling you in closer by your head, flushing your chests together to intertwine your souls once more. Heady grunts and growls heave into your mouth between frenzied, stunned, satisfied kisses, and each time a tear of yours catches into the liplock, Sukuna is pulling it into his lips, saltiness swirling through the sweet release of his misery. 

He’s missed you. So very much, he’s missed you. He doesn’t know how he has managed to go so long without you now that you are here again, now that he is holding you again, kissing you again. 

“My king,” you whimper when you get a chance to break away, foreheads bumping as Sukuna shushes you gently.

“Do not fret, peach,” he soothes you, lips brushing yours as his now loving gaze spills into your own. “You are alright.”

Despite Sukuna’s ruthlessness and his wild murderous expeditions, as well as his blood-curdling tone that further accentuates the weight of his threats when thrown into the direction of others, Sukuna melts into calmness for you, his low voice mellow and meditative, enraptured in the peace that you bring him. You know all sides of your dear husband, and yet this is the rawest side of him that you know, that he treats you with. 

“What happened?” you whisper as his hands run over you, catching your tears and tracing the curves of your flesh. “Where are we?”

“In the garden,” he answers you easily, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. 

“At… at home?” 

He hums in affirmation, leaning back just a bit to stare into you. The pairs of your eyes shine as they absorb the image of one another, still and sincere. Grass tickles your ears and your arms, and you look down, realizing that you are lying in a patch of greenery. You slowly tilt your head to the side, and Sukuna keeps his gaze glued to you like you will disappear before him. Your eyes capture the stems of daffodils and lavender that sprout around your head, pointing into the night sky and swaying gently in the warm breeze. You recognize the plants as the ones you had always taken to tending by the creek behind Sukuna’s temple, which he had the servants fashion as a suitable garden for you to indulge in. 

You do not recall being here last. You recall dying. You recall your world going dark.

You turn back to meet his heavy eyes. “What did you do?”

He is silent for a moment, taking his time to study you before answering as though the question is the simplest one he has ever been asked. “I have brought my queen back to me. As I have always sworn to do if we were ever separated.”

“...How long have we been separated?”

“It does not matter.”

“How long was I away from you, Ryo? How long did I leave you for?”

“It does not matter,” he reiterates gently yet ever so firmly. “Do not think of it.”

“Please-” you frown, eyes shining over again. “I hadn’t- I didn’t mean to leave you. I don’t know how I even let it happen… I can’t imagine what that must have gone through…”

Ryomen catches the guilt in your gorgeous eyes and he is quick to gather you up in his arms. He pulls you up slowly, keeping your eyes locked as you allow him to lift you from the ground with his arms wound tightly over your waist. Your hands go to Sukuna’s shoulders as he kneels over you, keeping you steady and upright, face to face, nose to nose, eye to eye. 

“I refuse to allow the first thing you do in reincarnated life to be reminding me of what life was like without you,,” he says. “I do not wish to revisit it. It does not matter,” he repeats for a third time. 

You tilt your head with the tug of your lips downward sadly, threading your hands through his pink locks and holding onto the nape of his neck. The moonlight milks over you regally, as though the stars have aligned for this very moment, to illuminate you both in the universe’s joyous eye. You swallow hard. “Am I a curse?”

“You are my wife. I will not tolerate you labeling yourself as anything different..”

You inhale deeply, bringing your forehead back to him and closing your eyes. His arms pull you in tight, rhythmic breaths easing you into this reality complacent, affectionately, lovingly. 

“I’m sorry I left you, my love,” you murmur.

Now that he’s heard you apologize, seen your remorse sparked by something out of your control, he doesn’t fare well with it. 

You are not a plague to him, a burden, and telling him that you are sorry in his mind now insinuates such. Even after leaving him, after stealing away his warmth, after haunting his slumber and his consciousness for eons, he does not fault you. He would never fault the woman he chose to keep by his side in wellness and in death. 

He does not accept your apology. You have done nothing but love him, yet Sukuna is the one who should have protected you. 

He runs a hand over the back of your head, down your hair, and exudes his message of impenetrable love to you through his embrace and sweltering red eyes. “All I ask of you is that you stay. In this era and the next. Stay by my side as you are meant to be.”

You nod eagerly against him. “I will,” you whisper. “I will, I promise.”

Sukuna reaches down at his side for the ring he had set down. With one hand to your back, he pulls your wedding band forward and presents it to your twinkling eye. You gasp. 

“You still have it,” you sigh.

“In what world would I not?” 

You bring your hand down, spreading your fingers, and you watch as the kind of curses slips the rusted treasure over your finger, fitting it perfectly into place with the renewal of your marriage and the reunion of your hearts.

You admire the way it looks upon your hand happily, and Sukuna drags you back into his lips, pecking you tenderly before moving back in with his hands firm to you. You shift further up so that his arms can completely take you in, heads bumping as your lips swim together in commemoration of a rebirth into a new life.

[sttoru]

⺡ synopsis. after wandering into forbidden territory - the training grounds of the estate where sukuna’s soldiers reside - an unexpected romantic confession catches you off guard. little did you know that another concubine would snitch on you in hopes of getting you kicked out of the harem or worse, killed.

𖠵 tags. true form!ryomen sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst mostly [w/ comfort, if you can call it that], fluff-ish., suggestive. make-out session near the end. size difference [reader's body referred to as small]. mentions of murder, execution. wc: 4.2k

sukuna has known from the start that possessing a human army would cause trouble, one way or another. technically, the overpowered curse has no need for a group of soldiers. he can take up any opponent by himself.

however, he enjoyed knowing that he has full control over some weak humans who are too scared to oppose him. humans who would die for his cause, if he were to command them.

human shields: that’s what he calls them.

“speak up or leave,” the king of curses commands, piercing red eyes glaring down at the woman kneeling before him. he sits on his throne, the aura emitting from his body being one that would send anyone into sheer panic.

he’s already pissed off due to being disturbed by one of his concubines. It isn’t you – his favorite – so he has little patience to spare for the girl at his feet.

the blond girl speaks up after taking a deep breath. she came here determined to go through with her sick plan, hoping sukuna would hear her out. she knows of his favoritism—everyone around the estate did and nearly every other concubine has been thinking of the same.

to get rid of the blatant favoritism once and for all.

the nervous woman talks fast, stuttering after every word. she spills every detail about the predicament that you had found yourself in a couple moments ago.

. . .

you were walking around the training grounds out of pure curiosity. usually, no one would be there around that hour, yet today seemed to be an exception. you averted your eyes the second you saw the soldiers training in only their hakama. their muscular chests and backs were out in the open, straight up eye candy for anyone who was walking past.

however, when they saw you - sukuna’s infamous concubine who they’ve secretly developed a crush on – they froze in their place and nearly dropped their weapons. the men didn’t expect any visitors, especially not a high-ranking concubine to randomly walk through this part of the estate. it’s a rare occurrence to have anyone but the servants and generals walk by.

you silently bowed at them out of respect. you didn’t have to due to your high rank, yet you still did. you actually respect their position as soldiers. that humble nature of yours was exactly what separated you from the other concubines. it also played a huge role in the crushes that those soldiers have on you.

out of fear for their lives, the soldiers have never directly interacted with you. they heard of what happened to one of the male servants who tried asking you to accompany him for a cup of tea. his body was reduced to nothing but a puddle of dark, red blood which took the servants hours to fully clean up.

but now that you were alone, without sukuna in sight, the soldiers were braver. one of them grabbed the opportunity and started walking towards you as you stood on the engawa, simply admiring the koi pond nearby. the group of men watched from a distance as their friend attempted to make a move on you. it was the perfect opportunity to convey his feelings for you.

or so he thought.

sukuna’s eyes are everywhere. even if you think he isn’t looking, he simply is. his informants are lurking from every corner. his concubines, chefs, servants, maids and guards. all of them are his eyes and ears. you’re never fully alone. nothing you do escapes the king of curses. if you’re not being watched by him, the people under his control are lurking instead.

in that instant, it was one of his concubines who had discreetly followed you.

you had noticed it a while ago, though didn’t say a word. it’s a usual occurrence. the other women always try to catch you off guard. to catch you doing something that you’re not allowed to do, so they can report it to sukuna, hoping that it would get you expelled from his harem. perhaps even executed in front of their eyes.

although every time they report something ‘controversial’ about you to sukuna, it backfires, and they end up with their head on the guillotine.

despite the many failures, they simply cannot stop trying. one day it will work.

the blonde woman had witnessed how the soldier put his hand on your arm to stop you from walking away. the cheesy smiles he had given you betrayed his true feelings—the words he uttered after the formalities only further confirmed the concubine’s speculations.

“i’ve been admiring you for a while now. you’re a lovely lady...”

“perhaps it’s bold of me to ask this, but i would like the opportunity to get to know you better.”

“lord sukuna does not need to know of this. i promise not to tell him, so please don’t worry.”

. . .

“...that’s exactly what that soldier told her, my lord,” the concubine concludes her story with a shaky breath. the throne room is filled with a tense and rather uncomfortable silence. the woman can’t even lift her head up because of how scared she is of sukuna’s wrath. she’s scared of the fact that she could be the first one he kills in a rampage fueled by pure envy.

the curse simply stares at the top of the blonde’s head. his expression is unreadable, but the veins in his neck and on his forehead slowly yet surely start to become visible. his blood is boiling, causing his jaw to clench and his hands to ball into fists. without a word, sukuna stands up from his throne. the air in the room turns suffocating—the concubine could barely breathe. it’s as if there’s an invisible weight pressing on her chest, making her struggle to get any oxygen in her lungs.

a rough hand reaches out to grab ahold of her hair. sukuna’s fingers curl around the locks and roughly yanks the girl’s head back, forcing her to look up. his face is close to hers; his eyes are wide and glowing an intimidating red.

“woman,” his voice has a dangerous tone to it as he speaks up. he grips her hair tighter, until she lets out a pained sob as a few of her blond strands float down onto the cold floor, “you know what happens if you lie to me, correct?”

the blond concubine swallows thickly as the tears prickle her eyes. she nods, already aware of the risks she is taking. “yes, my lord. i… i promise it is not a lie,” she whimpers. perhaps her promise isn’t worth trusting, considering the infinite number of times that sukuna’s concubines have tried to sabotage his favorite girl, but the least she can do is try and convince him. to get one step closer to her goal.

the king of curses releases her head with a rough push that sends her onto her hands and knees. his intense gaze is focused on the big, heavy doors that lead down the many corridors of the estate. sukuna grits his teeth to the point he can nearly feel them crack— how dare a lowlife try to make a move on you, in his territory? his home?

a lowly human he has granted the privilege to even breathe the same air as him, nonetheless.

death shall await that piece of shit. everyone who has seen the situation play out and hasn’t done a thing to stop it or report it, will surely meet their demise as well. heavy footsteps and the deafening sounds of doors slamming open alert every living being around the estate. the air turns tense as they scramble to hide and stay out of sight of the one who’s currently making his way to the training grounds.

. . .

you’re sitting at a pavilion near the area you had visited roughly an hour ago. your eyes take in the beautiful surroundings: the sakura trees, the neatly cut bushes and the hint of the distant mountains that peek above the walls enclosing the estate. being here puts your mind at ease, even amongst all the chaos that you have withstood within those same walls.

you think back to the man who had spoken to you a couple moments ago. the way he spoke so bravely to you, knowing it could mean death if anyone were to report it to sukuna. it sure made you respect his courage. even if you did reject his offer—out of pure fear for his life and your own.

besides, you have developed a strange longing for the ruthless curse over the course of your stay. sukuna might still lack in some aspects, but something about him is attracting you and you cannot resist it. that connection between the two of you is something undeniable. something that will not die out any time soon.

you get up to go to your chambers. you’ve been here for too long while you’re not quite supposed to be roaming these places on your own. you lift your kimono a little, walking down the three steps and onto the gravel path. while you’re walking back, a couple noises from inside of the main building catch your attention.

sounds of struggle. you’ve heard those sounds enough times before to be able to recognize them with ease. you watch as guards step out into the engawa, down onto the pebbles that stretch over the entire yard. they’re pulling along a couple of blindfolded and tied up men. it looks exactly like what it is: an execution.

your throat dries up as you freeze in place. you’re not supposed to witness any of this. you’ve known of the executions that take place around the manor but have never seen them firsthand. you carefully hide your face, so the guards don’t recognize you and alert sukuna that you’re wandering around this part of his territory.

your eyes are downcast as you try to make a run for it from the sidelines, attempting to sneak into the building. this is none of your business. you don’t want to see it. you truly cannot do anything to save those souls—your word is not final around here.

you don’t recognize who those poor men are, until you hear one of them plead for his life. you’re about to successfully sneak past the many guards, however your head whips to the side out of pure shock once you hear that familiar voice. that smooth and charming voice. your eyes scan the bodies of the group that’s about to be executed.

those clothes. the group is wearing the same pants that those soldiers had on. the haircuts, their voices… there is no doubt about it.

“what—” you’re about to speak up – revealing your identity in hopes of getting answers and perhaps delay the execution with the little power you have - when you’re interrupted.

how could you not have noticed that imposing figure making its way towards you before eventually coming to a stop at your face?

you don’t know what to do or say. it’s like you have met a dead end. you can’t go back, nor can you move forward as a wall of muscles cage you into place. you don’t have time to react before sukuna’s fingers move up to wrap around your throat. he doesn’t hold on tight, at least not to the point that it hinders your airway. it’s a rather possessive gesture, a warning to not move or try anything funny.

“stay,” sukuna orders. you know you cannot defy him in any way, thus you do as told. you catch a glimpse of a silhouette behind the pink-haired man. A frown settles on your face the second you notice who it belongs to. that damned woman. . . she subtly shoots you a grin, one that makes your stomach churn and your blood boil.

you had been too reckless. you should have known that she would tell on you. if only you didn’t come around this area, none of this would have happened. those poor souls would not be lined up in a row in the yard, awaiting their inevitable end by the hands of the curse everyone fears. you feel like it’s all your fault and that nearly sends you spiraling.

“’lord sukuna doesn’t have to know,’ huh?” sukuna mocks with a dry laugh. a shiver runs down your spine once you realize what he is referring to. those courageous words that have been uttered to you today. you swallow thickly as you’re forced to lock eyes with the enraged curse in front of you.

he scoffs and turns your head to look at the blindfolded soldiers who are kneeling on the gravel, “how cute. which one of ‘em said that to you?”

you’re unable to immediately answer sukuna. there’s simply no way out of this. he will know the truth one way or another. the other concubine standing behind him will surely spill the beans if you lie. your punishment will be worse if you’re caught lying and the thought alone makes you panic internally.

“answer me,” the king of curses demands. his fingers tighten the grip around your neck, his face leaning in right in front of yours. it’s terrifying, really, even if you know sukuna wouldn’t physically hurt you in any way. at least not badly.

he emphasizes his demand with a subtle threat, “and don’t you dare lie.”

it’s futile lying to sukuna anyway. your eyes fill up with tears from the pure pressure you are experiencing. you look over the group of soldiers that are on their knees, waiting to be executed. just a few moments ago, they were laughing with each other while practicing their skills, not having a clue of what would happen. you grit your teeth. life is unfair.

you refuse to point at anyone, but your gaze does linger on one soldier on the far right. that instantly catches sukuna’s attention and he makes a mental note of it. he isn’t dumb: he is aware that you’re softhearted and selfless. you wouldn’t publicly expose anyone, because you’re afraid of what he will do to them if he were to find out.

“hm.” sukuna possesses enough information. he releases you with a slight push, all four of his eyes focused on that specific soldier. an ominous silence fills the air before you’re excused with a quick gesture of his hands. the king of curses wordlessly commands the guards to draw their swords; not a single life would be spared.

why? because the other soldiers are just as guilty. not reporting to sukuna about the behavior of their follow squad member is an act of treason by itself. besides, sukuna doesn’t really need those soldiers any longer. he can always assemble another group of weak men and put them on the front lines, to play the role of human shields.

his arms are crossed as he stares each of them down. he is about to tell the first guard to start the execution when he feels you tug at the sleeve of his yukata.

you gulp as you cling onto the fabric. you’re trying your best to change his mind. as his favorite, perhaps you had that power. to stop the blood hungry curse that lives for death and chaos. “pleqse don’t—" you open your mouth, only for one of his hands to grab you by your jaw.

“y’ don’t get to tell me what to do, brat,” sukuna answers in a low, dangerous voice. he taps your cheek twice to remind you of your place. he pushes you aside, causing you to stumble backwards into the building. be may be ruthless, but not to the point where he’d force you to witness the slaughter that’s about to take place.

“i’ll deal with ya later,” he adds with a faint huff. he quickly waves you off, “now, move.”

all you can do is stare at sukuna’s back before slowly retreating into the estate. you feel sick. you feel like you’re going to throw up as you scurry past the concubine who also makes her way back to her chambers, the woman still grinning from ear to ear.

heads will roll because of you. again.

. . .

the estate is unusually quiet around this hour. not a single soul had the guts to get out of their chambers after word spread that another execution took place. this time it was a group of soldiers, all of them taken out without a warning. they fear they’re next—not even your own lady-in-waiting dares to talk to you for the time being.

you’re laying on your bed, unable to sleep your worries away. the warmth underneath your sheets gives you a sense of comfort, but it isn’t enough to drive the negative thoughts away. you only lift your head up from the pillow when the doors to your room slide open. you heart nearly stops beating in your chest as you see sukuna stroll inside like nothing happened.

his footsteps are heavy against the wooden flooring. you sit up out of habit, to greet him. your eyes are downcast, however. you know a punishment awaits you as well. you don’t think he will expel you from his harem nor get rid of you in any way. he would have done so the moment he’s seen you back at the training grounds if that were to be the case.

sukuna sits on the edge of your bed, crossing all four of his arms. he sighs the second he sees the gloomy expression on your face. his hand reaches out, fingers pushing some of the hairs back from your face.

he doesn’t speak up for a minute, simply allowing you to gather your thoughts. his index finger and thumb glide down to grasp your chin— a gentle yet firm touch. “y’ see what happens when you disobey me?”

sukuna’s reminder sure was a violent one, but that’s to be expected from a disaster curse like him. of course he wouldn’t change his violent nature for you; you should’ve expected that. you shouldn’t have become so delusional, so blinded because of the fact that you’re his favorite.

perhaps the special treatment is getting to your head. it’s making you feel like you have a chance at taming a monster.

especially now, as sukuna climbs onto your bed and leans back against the headboard, pulling your small body onto his lap. the duality is messing with your brain and making you unable to fully despise the man in front of you.

“yes, my lord,” you take a deep breath before eventually answering with those three words. you’re a weak woman, melting right into the embrace of the man you’re supposed to hate. you cannot help yourself as you feel those big hands rub up and down your sides.

“good,” sukuna’s signature smirk tugs at his lips. you’re easy to distract, easy to please. looking at you from up close like this is somehow soothing the anger inside him. he’s supposed to punish you for disobeying his orders— for going somewhere you’re not supposed to. for interacting with a man who tried to approach you romantically.

yet he cannot bring himself to continue his rough lecture. seeing you become all putty in his hands puts his mind at ease. hurting you? kicking you out of his harem? killing you? no, none of that. all those evil thoughts are thrown out of the window the second your body made contact with his.

sukuna doesn't know whether to dislike or enjoy the undeniable power you have over him. if it was any of his other concubines in your position, he would've executed them right beside those soldiers. maybe it is a sick and twisted sense of love that he has for you.

even if love is a foreign thing to a cold-blooded curse like him.

“y’re lucky i still have some use for you,” sukuna comments as his big hand moves up to rub your head, subtly ruffling your hair. his actions are in contrast with his words. his words carry the hard 'truth', reminding you of your place as his concubine. but his actions tell you that you’re more than that to him. more than just a toy to his collection.

his fingers trace your cheek, your jaw and down to the collar of your kimono. he slips two digits between the gaps of the fabric and traces your cleavage. your heart rate picks up, which the king of curses easily senses. he shakes his head with a dry and nearly condescending laugh.

you’re easy. easy to pacify, easy to shut up with just a couple touches. that’s also what he likes about you. the fact that you’re so submissive to him when you need to be. sukuna traces the curves of your perky breasts, “you should just look pretty for me like this—listen to me and not get into trouble.”

goosebumps appear on your skin from the sensual touch. a shiver runs down your spine as the tips of his fingers nearly touch your sensitive buds before retreating. it’s a tease meant to drive you crazy, to get you riled up only for nothing to happen.

sukuna leans in and nips at the skin near your throat. his breath is hot and heavy against your neck, his kisses are chaste and tingly. two of his hands pull your upper body against his until you’re chest to chest. his lips find your shoulder, fingers loosening the kimono to expose your sensitive flesh.

“none of this would’ve happened if ya jus’ listened, hm?” sukuna whispers in a rough tone. he knows it’s not fully your fault—that stupid soldier shouldn’t have made a move on you in the first place. although, he can’t help but play mindgames with you. to mold you into the perfect woman for him.

and you fall right into his trap. “sorry. won't do it again,” you reply in a quiet whisper. your own hands clench onto the fabric of his black yukata, eyes closed and head tilted to give sukuna better access to your neck. he appreciates your thoughtfulness as his teeth sink into your flesh.

“hah. that’s what y’ say every time,” the pink-haired curse clicks his tongue. one of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers curling into the strands of your hair. he tugs at them so you can face him properly.

“. . .such a little brat,” sukuna’s eyes roam over your facial features and down to your body. he gives you a subtle grin before his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss.

you should be feeling guilty for being part of the reason why an entire group of people have lost their lives, yet here you are, shamelessly making out with their executer.

the love you share is toxic, but addictive. you find yourself crawling back to sukuna each time you promise not to fall for his tricks. and the same goes for him.

the king of curses finds himself tolerating more and more of your behavior—behavior that would have others in their grave. no matter what you say or do, he keeps you alive. he simply punishes you in other ways than death, even when death is all he knows.

sukuna bites on your bottom lip which causes your mouth to open. he takes advantage of it and slips his tongue inside, mixing his saliva with yours. he groans against your lips due to the pure pleasure he receives from your kisses.

you pull away suddenly, feeling lightheaded from the lack of air you were getting. the man in front of you scoffs and flicks your forehead for that, grumpy again because you decided to bring an end to his pleasure.

sukuna allows you a little break, however. he brings his mouth to your ear and you swear you can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks. “y’re mine. don’t you forget,” he mutters to you in a low tone.

you nod without hesitation, “all yours.”

you will never forget that. no matter what you do or where you go— you’re still sukuna’s. in every way possible. there is no escaping him. no one can take you away from him, as you’ve been reminded of an hour ago.

not another man, nor another woman. not even his other concubines can get you out of his sight. they may continue to scheme, but they won’t succeed.

what happened today is still replaying in the back of your mind as the make out session develops into something more. you’ve pushed the guilt, sadness and shame aside for the time being, though you know that those emotions will come crashing down after this is done.

death is inevitable around this place. you’ve grown a bit desensitised to it and have accepted your fate a long time ago when you realised that you had somehow done the impossible.

now you - and the others - are actively suffering the consequences— the consequences of making the ryomen sukuna fall in love.

[acourtofquestions]

JUST FINISHED CHAPTER 23 OF CROWN OF MIDNIGHT!!!

AND I LEGIT DONT WANT TO READ ANYTHING ELSE — BECAUSE ITS GONNA RUIN IT — THERE ARE TOO MANY BOOKS LEFT IN THE SERIES FOR THESE CHARACTERS TO BE THIS HAPPY AND ALSO STAY THIS WAY — BUT ITS JUST SO PERFECT

AND I JUST WANT TO BE HAPPY WITH CELAENA AND CHAOL FOREVER

WHYYYYYYYYY

[plutotheplum]

Keep My Hand in Yours

emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 1!

summary: the emperor is intent on convincing you that you are worthy enough to be his empress.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, oral sex, vaginal fingering, p in v, praise kink, throne sex, spanking

wc: 6.9k

a/n: part 2 is finally here! thank you for all the sweet comments, i cherish them all!! <3 umm... i do plan on adding some more parts to this series... so yeah, i hope you enjoy! :)

also on ao3!

“She is not with child.”

Zayne’s stern voice cuts through the chatter of his advisors, his fingers tapping against the arm of his throne irritatedly. The drone of voices silences, his advisors lowering their heads in respect.

You stand off to the side, playing with the sleeves of your robes nervously. Perhaps you’d been a little naive to think the advisors would have been accepting of your blossoming relationship with the Emperor. 

Word had spread throughout the palace, and most likely throughout the entire Empire about the new developments that had taken place overnight. The guards had heard you of course, their eyes averted and cheeks flushed pink when Zayne had held your hand and led you out of his chambers.

An unforeseen turn in events, and you had somehow excelled past the advisors’ expectations, garnering the Emperor’s affection for you. Whilst a small number of the Emperor’s advisors were pleased, the majority were not. Standing before them, you can see the disdain on their faces, the hatred that belies their thin smiles. Jealousy is above all however, for their own daughters were once placed forth as noble matches for the Emperor. 

You jolt out of your thoughts when an Imperial guard takes your arm, moving you to stand before the Emperor. Zayne looks down at you, and you can spy the slight softening of his eyes as he watches you bow to him.

“As I have said,” Zayne repeats, “she is not with child.”

“Forgive me, your majesty,” a voice speaks out from behind you, “how can she not be with child? We- we have heard of what occurred.”

Zayne motions for you to spin around, and you do as he wants. You now face his entire court, advisors gathered in hours of the early morning. It was the grand chancellor who spoke, a tall man, his face gaunt. You remember he had served Zayne’s father before he had passed.

“We are both not ready for children,” Zayne explains, “I had the palace physician brew a tea under my command.”

It was true. You had both spoken about the matter, and you simply could not handle carrying a child so soon. Zayne had agreed, snuck you out through the passages in the middle of the night, and had taken you to the palace physician. The brewing of such teas was not unheard of, but certainly not an accepted occurrence, although perhaps more commonly used among the nobility.

“I see…” the grand chancellor says slowly, his gaze fixating on you.

You want to shrink away, somehow hide behind the safety of the Emperor, but you cannot. Instead, you shift on the spot, averting your gaze to the floor as though you were not the very object of interest of this gathering.

“And you intend to continue this foolish endeavor?” 

Your head snaps up at the harsh words, gaze settling on the new voice that had spoken out. A lower ranking official judging by the coloring of his robes, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you.

“It appears you forget yourself,” the Emperor replies coolly. 

“Or perhaps you forget yourself, your majesty,” the official spits, stepping forward, “you would ruin the image of your rule to marry some… some lowly concubine?”

The murmurs of the other members of court are hard to ignore, hushed whispers breaking out at the official’s blatant show of disrespect towards the Emperor.

“And was it not this very court that decided to gather concubines without my knowledge?”

“For child bearing!” the official hisses, pointing his finger towards you accusingly, “not for marriage!”

You swallow harshly at the viciousness of his words, biting back the insults that threaten to spill out. Retaliation in such a meeting would only support the official’s cause. 

“She will be your Empress,” Zayne says calmly, “if you seek to insult my future wife yet again, I will have you removed immediately.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks when he affirms that you’ll be his wife. It may not be the best time, but the light flush covers your cheeks and you try to stop the pull of your lips, a smile threatening to spread across your face.

“If you think I- we will stand for such insolence, you are sorely mistaken, your majesty” the official snarls.

A bitter laugh echoes through the throne room. 

“Be grateful that I am not my father,” Zayne murmurs, “for he would have had your head. Remove your seal.”

The official sputters, looking around at the rest of the court members wildly. Most avoid his eyes, others unconsciously touching their own seals through the fabric of their robes.

You flinch when the official removes his Imperial seal angrily, tossing the little silver square at your feet.

“You have poisoned his mind,” he accuses heatedly, face reddened from his outburst, “and you should do well to remember your station.”

Irritation pricks at your skin, your teeth gritting together. You were well aware of your station, of your status and how you’re perceived. The incessant reminders aren’t doing well to calm your frayed nerves, brows pulling together as you glare at the official. 

“Bow to her.”

The rules of nobility have been set in place for longer than you could possibly know, and yet Zayne seems insistent on breaking them. It’s bold, even for him, to demand such a thing. You turn, shooting him a look, subtly shaking your head. There’s a hint of a smile on the Emperor’s face, as though enjoying this confrontation.

“I- I will do no such thing!” the official protests.

“You have already lost your seal and your position and you still will not do as I say?” Zayne murmurs, leaning forward in his throne.

You watch with wide eyes when the official does bow to you, the upper half of his body lowering. Another round of hushed whispers passes through the room, and you can feel the grand chancellor’s eyes boring into you. His authority was only second to the Emperor, the only man who held a real chance of changing Zayne’s mind.

“Good,” Zayne says, leaning back on his throne, “now leave us.”

The throne room clears out immediately, until you’re the only one remaining. You smile at him, stepping between his legs until you’re standing in front of him.

“I did not take you for a tyrant,” you tease, brushing his hair out of his face.

“And I did not know that protecting my future wife made me a tyrant,” Zayne muses, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He tugs you closer, his head falling forward to rest against your stomach, face burying itself in your robes. A soft sigh leaves you, fingers running through his loose hair, scratching at his scalp lightly.

“Tired?” you ask, arm wrapping around his neck.

The Emperor nods against your stomach, trying to press his face deeper. A laugh escapes you at his needy behavior, your hand managing to cup his jaw to bring him out of his hiding place. 

“The affairs of state have become bothersome,” Zayne says, peering up at you.

“Oh? You did not seem to mind before.”

“Playing coy?” Zayne smiles faintly, tugging you forward until you stumble and land on his lap.

“Hardly,” you whisper, pressing yourself closer as your hands curl into his robes.

The Emperor leans back on his throne, his hands kneading at your hips. You chase after him, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his. Zayne lets out a low noise, drawing you closer, his hand sliding up your back as you kiss. The memory from last night is still fresh, the feeling of his hands on your body ingrained in your mind. 

“I cannot have enough of you,” he whispers, lips brushing over yours.

“You- you ought to rest,” you gasp, tilting your head to let him kiss down the length of your neck.

Zayne kisses your sternum, and back up your neck before he sighs and tucks his face into the crook of your neck. You hold him close, hand smoothing over his hair gently.

“I have made things difficult for you,” you say quietly.

He shakes his head, squeezing your waist reassuringly. 

“I have become complacent,” he murmurs, “simply letting others do as they please.”

You kiss his forehead when he lifts his head, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Exhaustion mars the Emperor’s face, his eyes looking sunken and dull. The sudden gathering of his court appears to have drained his energy.

“I shall have to gather them again,” Zayne says, “the trade agreements need attention.”

A smile settles on your face when he kisses your cheeks gently, his hands petting your sides. You move off of his lap, standing up with him reluctantly. Reaching out, you fix his hair and his robes that you had held onto earlier. 

“Finish, then retire to your chambers to rest,” you instruct, patting his chest.

Zayne laughs, his head dipping down to kiss you. You return the kiss eagerly, pulling apart with a few sweet, little pecks to his lips.

“You are already acting like a doting wife,” he whispers.

You flush when he says that, looking away. It’s still hard to get over the fact that Zayne, the Emperor, wants to marry you of all people. The thought of it all makes your palms sweaty, cheeks hot and heart race. There’s a whirlwind upon you, Zayne, tearing apart your preconceived notions of the Empire. 

“I want to dote on you.”

The words tumble from your lips, soft and vulnerable. You’ve never felt this way about a man, never had a man pay attention to you, never been touched by a man before him. It’s as though the Emperor’s expressions are always tender in the way he gazes at you. You’ve never known what it’s like to be in love, but if it’s like this, so startlingly soft and sickeningly sweet, you fear you may be lost in him forever. 

“I- I just meant-” you begin to correct yourself, fidgeting with your robes.

“I know what you meant,” Zayne says softly, his hands finding yours.

Your breath catches in your throat when he lifts your hands to his mouth, his thumbs running over your skin soothingly. Zayne keeps his eyes on you as he kisses across your knuckles, squeezing your hands gently after. 

“I said I take care of what’s mine,” he continues, drawing you close, “and you are mine now.”

You nod jerkily, shoving your face into his chest. The Emperor hums, stroking your hair slowly. Unfortunately, you don’t get to bask in his embrace for any longer, a guard announcing the arrival of a messenger.

“Rest,” you remind him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

Zayne nods, squeezing your waist before allowing you to draw away. 

-

The other girls crowd around you immediately when you enter your chambers, their expressions sly and knowing as they tug you towards the middle of the room, soft giggles filling the air.

“Well?” one of them asks, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Well what?” you ask, feigning innocence.

A chorus of complaints breaks out.

“Stop being shy!”

“We tell you our stories!”

“You must tell us!”

One of the girls reaches for you, her arm hooking with yours. She leans down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers conspiratorially.

“Was the Emperor well-endowed?”

“Oh, stop it!”

- 

The grand chancellor has been lurking in the hallways.

You’d noticed the tall man when you had left to make some tea, but after a considerable amount of time, he was still there. The cold breeze outside should’ve been enough to deter him, but you’ve figured he must be intent on speaking to you.

To be frank, you aren’t in the mood for another confrontation just days later from the disastrous court meeting that had occurred. It’s why you hold your breath as you sneak out from your chambers, feet padding against the floor lightly as you try to slip past the grand chancellor’s turned back.

“Will you avoid me for much longer?” he calls out. 

You wince, halting in place. The grand chancellor cannot be avoided forever, you suppose.

“Come along,” he says, his fingers motioning for you to follow him.

You do as he says begrudgingly, following after the grand chancellor. To your surprise, he leads you into the gardens rather than a private room. Snow is yet to fall today, autumn soon drawing to a close in a few weeks. You wipe the fallen leaves that have landed on a nearby bench, sitting down after the grand chancellor does.

It’s suffocatingly awkward, your fingers playing with each other agitatedly as he simply sits next to you, looking out at the plants and trees that make up the gardens. You realize it would be a foolish idea to let your guard down around him. The grand chancellor hadn’t reprimanded Zayne during that meeting and yet you remember the way he had been staring at you. His intentions are hard to discern, his loyalties to the Emperor and the Emperor alone. 

“Much like his father, his majesty is stubborn,” the grand chancellor says, “I have had the pleasure of knowing both men since they were children.”

“I see,” you murmur, peeking a glance at him.

You don’t know why he’s telling you this, half-expecting the man to begin berating you for becoming so close to Zayne. 

“I shall be frank,” he sighs, turning to face you, “I did not expect the Emperor to become so… enamored by you.”

“I did not expect it either,” you grumble defensively.

“His majesty is an intelligent man. He knows of the consequences and yet seems intent on taking you to wed.”

“Consequences?” you echo.

“Political alliances are frail,” he explains, picking up a fallen leaf and examining it, “marriage is the easiest way to prevent a war between regions.”

“We have not been at war for years!” you protest, shaking your head.

“And we will not be for many more,” the grand chancellor assures you, “I am simply warning you of what may come when you are Empress.”

You don’t understand the politics of the Empire, have never been privy to such things. The grand chancellor only adds to the confusion and uncertainty that has been brewing inside your mind. 

“I thought you would dissuade him,” you say quietly.

“The boy deserves happiness,” the grand chancellor murmurs, standing up, “if he wishes to be with you, then I will allow it.” He peers down at you, his lips thinning. “Take caution, child. Envy drives men to madness. The nobility may hide behind their bloodlines, but a cesspool festers within.”

The grand chancellor hands you the withered leaf.

“Loyalties change as the seasons do.”

- 

A week later, the Emperor finds you in the gardens, sitting under a tree.

“You have not come to see me,” Zayne says, sitting down beside you.

“I did not want to trouble you,” you reply.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. The Emperor’s fingers are stained with ink, streaks of black covering his pale skin. Zayne’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

“The grand chancellor is worried.”

“I surmised as much,” the Emperor sighs, his fingers playing with your robes.

You peer up at him, and Zayne leans down, dropping a kiss to your forehead. There’s a part of you that can’t help but feel you’re putting him in a position that he normally wouldn’t be in if he had simply chosen to marry someone of higher status.

“Do you truly wish to marry me?” you ask quietly, averting your gaze.

“Have I told you otherwise?” Zayne asks in return, his fingers gripping your chin to turn your head so that your eyes meet his again.

The tenderness in his eyes is overwhelming. You feel as though you’re drowning, swallowed up by his irises and his honest gaze. Things would’ve been far simpler if he were someone less important, but you can’t imagine Zayne being anything other than the Emperor, for it would be a disservice to the Empire.

You shift, standing up before settling your hands on his broad shoulders, straddling him as you climb up onto his lap. It’s improper to act so brazenly, but you’ve done far more improper things with him, acted far more brazenly in his presence. The Emperor grunts as you settle yourself on his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“I am not fit to be your Empress,” you whisper.

Zayne doesn’t say anything for a moment, his hand simply rubbing up and down your back soothingly. Your throat is tight and you can feel your lips trembling. You don’t want to cry, but you can’t help it when a sniffle escapes you.

“And you think I am fit to be Emperor?” he whispers, “I am only here because of my father and his father before him and so on.”

“But you are the Emperor,” you insist, voice quavering, “I could not possibly-”

“Forget about nonsensical titles,” Zayne murmurs, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs wipe away the hot tears that have begun to roll down your cheeks, “I meant every word I said that night.”

“B- but-” 

“But nothing,” the Emperor soothes, staring into your eyes intently, “I would sooner have no one than not have you.”

“You are the worst,” you say tearily, pushing at his chest weakly. 

“Ah, I am sure,” he says, a small smile spreading across his face.

The Emperor cradles your head, tilting it to his will as he kisses away the fresh tears that wet your cheeks. He doesn’t stop there, his lips dragging over your skin gently. The Emperor kisses your brows, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, every inch of your face that is bared to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

You kiss him gently and Zayne smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, deepening the kiss as he presses his lips against yours firmly. A soft whine leaves you, letting his tongue lick over the seam of your lips before he licks into your mouth, tongue delving deep. The Emperor kisses you as though trying to convince you of his words, as though to make you stay. 

“I want to show you something,” Zayne says, his forehead pressing against yours. You nod, moving to stand up. Zayne doesn’t let you, instead hauling you up into his arms and standing up. A surprised squeak bubbles out of you when you realize the Emperor is carrying you.

“Zayne!” you protest, “Zayne, people will see!”

Zayne only tightens his grip when you begin to squirm, brushing a kiss to your forehead to calm your ministrations.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, people do see. You try to shrink in his grasp, pressing yourself into his chest as the palace staff pause their duties to watch with wide eyes as the Emperor carries you out of the gardens. Some are unable to stop their jaws from slackening, others beginning to point and whisper amongst themselves.

The Emperor hardly bats an eye, his stride strong and purposeful as he carries you through the hallways and courtyards. It’s a statement in and of itself. 

You spy the smirk on an Imperial guard’s face when he opens up the doors to the throne room, your eyes narrowing when the man sends you a wink. The doors slam shut with a resounding thud, leaving only you and Zayne inside.

“Zayne- Zayne, no!” you hiss, hands scrabbling at his shoulders when you realize what he’s doing. 

Your legs kick out, trying to somehow climb up the Emperor’s tall frame. It’s futile against his strength, his hands manhandling you until he sets you down on his throne. If he doesn’t punish you for it, you fear the Heavens will. 

“Stay,” the Emperor says, pushing at your shoulders when you try to shoot up from where you’re sitting, “I command it.”

You sit in place rigidly, back straight. There are centuries of history that make up this throne, and you can’t help but feel that you are somehow dishonoring it all by sitting here. 

“What are you-” your brows furrowing when he suddenly begins to bend.

Fingers digging into the arms of the throne, you feel as though you might faint as you watch the Emperor bow to you before sinking to his knees. Zayne stares up at you expectantly, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“G- get up!” you whisper heatedly.

There’s no one here, but you can only imagine the severity of the consequences if someone were to stumble in here and find the Emperor on his knees for you.

“Command it,” he says, looking perfectly content in his current position.

“No one can command the Emperor!”

“I will not move unless you exert your authority,” Zayne says simply.

Your eye twitches at his insistence, at his own brazenness. 

“Say it,” he coaxes gently, “say it and I will stand.”

“I-” your breath catches in your throat awkwardly. You flush when Zayne nods his head encouragingly, your voice breathy when you begin to speak again. “I c-command you to stand.”

“Very good,” he murmurs, standing up and moving towards you.

Zayne smiles at you, his head dipping to crash his lips onto yours, his hands braced on the arms of his throne. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you fiercely. The Emperor continues his onslaught of kisses, dragging his lips down your neck as his fingers pull free the knot holding your robes together.

“You think your station determines your worth,” Zayne whispers, his teeth scraping your shoulder, “but this- you are worth more to me than the finest jade.”

“Stop,” you whisper, eyes slipping shut, “you must stop speaking like that. It does awful things to my heart.”

He laughs softly, kissing between your breasts. You bite your lip as his mouth envelops your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple. His teeth catch on it, tugging playfully before letting it pop free as he switches breasts. You run your fingers through his long hair, head tipping back against the throne as your body convulses.

The Emperor holds you in place, letting his tongue lave over your areola, his half-lidded eyes peering up at you to catch your reactions. You give him a weak smile and Zayne moans around your breast, his hand squeezing at the fat of your other breast.

Your dazed eyes watch as he kisses down your body, kissing your hip then your navel. He sinks to his knees once again, and you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand him, lost in the haze of lust and love. Zayne kisses the curls of hair on your mound, his hands gripping your calves to help guide your legs over his shoulders.

“I have missed this,” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds.

“As have I,” you sigh.

You moan when Zayne licks up a stripe over your cunt, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He rests his cheek against your thigh, watching intently as your aching hole clenches around nothing, watching as more slick drips from you.

“Stop staring,” you mumble, pushing at his head gently.

“I enjoy the sight,” he says in return.

Your thighs twitch when he pushes the hood of your clit up a little more, exposing the swollen bud. Zayne groans, kissing the inside of your thigh firmly before licking over your cunt again. A strangled gasp rips out of your throat, hands tightening in his hair as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Z- Zayne- ah- hah!” 

A soft whimper escapes when he kisses your clit, his fingers dimpling into the flesh of your thighs harshly. Zayne pulls you to the edge of the throne, his face burying deeper as he groans again, drinking down your slick. 

You squeal when he fucks his tongue into you, body shaking uncontrollably as you fist his hair tighter. He hisses against your cunt, renewing his efforts. You can feel his mouth opening wider, trying to consume you whole, licking and sucking desperately at every inch of velvety, sensitive flesh he can reach.

His nose rubs against your clit, and you’re seeing stars. The Emperor makes an obscene noise and you can feel his tongue moving inside of you, the feeling making your thighs clamp around his head. 

“Have- have you ever put your fingers inside of yourself?” he asks, raising his head.

You shake your head, watching as his fingers stroke over your clit lovingly, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your knee.

“May I?” the Emperor whispers, his finger prodding at your hole.

You give him a jerky nod, legs falling apart a little more for him. He smiles up at you, his finger sinking into you slowly. You whimper at the sensation, clenching around his finger. Zayne adds another soon after, and you’re panting desperately, hips bucking as he curls them inside of you. 

“The scroll said to do something like this,” he mutters under his breath.

“You- oh- you read a scroll?” you grit out.

“It was quite informative,” Zayne murmurs, beginning to move his fingers.

“Why must you be so- ah!” 

You don’t get to finish your sentence, your knuckles turning white as you grip the throne for stability as he latches his mouth back onto your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. The heat inside your stomach grows more intense with each flick of his tongue, his teeth scraping against your sensitive flesh for good measure.

Moans have begun to fill the air, and you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore, letting go completely. You guide his head to where you want him, toes curling against his back, crumpling his silk robes. Zayne’s mouth works with his fingers diligently, his fingers crooking up a little more to graze the spot where you need it most.

You peek down to see the pink flush on his cheeks and your back arches, his name leaving your mouth in a cry as you come on his fingers and his tongue. The Emperor moans as you writhe, his fingers moving in and out of you a couple more times before freeing them from your clenching walls.

Chest heaving, you pant, slumping back in the throne as he kisses across your puffy folds and sensitive cunt. Your thighs twitch a little when he peppers soft, little kisses against your clit and you can’t help but think the man has an obsession with its ability to bring you such pleasure.

The Emperor kisses up your body and you cup his jaw, kissing him sweetly.

“I fear this throne may be ruined,” you whisper against his lips.

He laughs, his nose nudging yours gently, “I recall promising to take you on it.”

“Before that,” you stand up on shaky legs, pushing at his chest until he sits back on his throne.

Adoration glimmers in his eyes, watching as your loose robes slip from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You stand bare before the Emperor, and you catch the slight spreading of his thighs to relieve the ache of his cock.

This time it’s you that’s sinking to your knees, pulling his robes free. The muscles of his abdomen clench when you run your fingers down his chest, his hand coming up to cover his flushed face.

“Why are you shy now?” you accuse, pouting up at him.

His thighs twitch when you curl your hand around his cock and you can feel the throb of his fat, hot length. 

“You do not have to-” he whispers when he sees your head dip.

“I want to,” you say stubbornly.

Zayne nods in acquiescence, moaning when you begin to drag your hand up and down his cock. It’s a little intimidating when you stare at it up close, but you swallow down your worries, leaning forward to kiss the tip experimentally.

His cock twitches in response, pre-cum beading at the tip. Your tongue darts out, licking up the little glob, feeling the taste of him spread across your tongue.

“Zayne,” you whisper, breath fanning over his cock, “Zayne, you must watch me.”

The Emperor groans at your lilting voice, his eyes opening the moment your mouth envelops him. His hips buck and you nearly seize up at the feeling of the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You mewl around him, breathing through your nose, tongue swirling before your head begins to bob up and down.

“Fuck,” Zayne hisses, his fingers spreading across your scalp, “my love, you are devious.”

You hum in response, pulling off of his cock in favor of giving more attention to the tip of it. You swirl your tongue, tongue flicking at the flared head and it’s enough to make Zayne whine, his thighs spreading wider for you. 

“Can you take it deeper?” he asks, his fingers trailing down the curve of your cheek.

“I shall try,” you murmur, mouth opening for him.

He hooks his thumb into the corner of his mouth, cupping your chin before his thumb spreads over the flat of your tongue. You smile, eyes flashing with mischievousness as you suck his thumb into your mouth, tongue flicking against the pad of it. 

Zayne shoots you a searing look and you watch as he grips the base of his cock. He drags the tip of his cock against your closed lips, entranced as he watches his pre-cum smears across your lips. His other hand presses at the back of your head and your mouth opens again, letting him guide his cock into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he whispers, “good girl.”

You can feel arousal shooting through you at the praise, slick pooling between your thighs yet again. The ache is so unbearable that you shove your hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit.

The Emperor pushes your head gently and you go willingly, slurping and sucking around his thick cock. Saliva drips from your mouth, coating his cock and his balls, strings of it landing on the edge of his throne. You rub at your clit faster, eyes fluttering as he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

“A- ah,” Zayne rasps, “hah- my love.”

The term of endearment is enough to have you taking it upon yourself to sink down his cock even more. The tufts of his black hair hit your nose for a moment, but you’re inexperienced and you’ve overestimated your own abilities. The feeling of his cock filling your throat is too much, and you choke, throat seizing, causing you to pull off with a hoarse cough as your eyes water.

Concern flits across Zayne’s face, his thumb swiping over your swollen lips. You give him a watery smile, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He sighs in relief when he sees you’re okay, leaning forward to place a tender kiss to your lips.

“So willful,” the Emperor murmurs.

He slides his hands under your armpits, picking you up and setting you down on his lap.

“I can do it again,” you mumble, gaze lowering to see his cock pressed between your bodies.

Zayne smiles, petting at your sides, “as much as I enjoyed the feeling, I cannot have my darling choking on my cock.”

“I was not choking,” you whine, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you insist,” Zayne soothes, “but when we are married, I will have many more opportunities to watch you swallow my cock.”

The Emperor’s constant promise of marriage has your heart lurching and you lean forward, crushing your lips against his. He grunts in surprise at your sudden action but returns the kiss just as eagerly, squeezing at your hips.

You whine into his mouth, his hair tickling your skin as he presses forward, his hips rolling up into yours. You can feel his hard cock between your thighs, the length dragging between your folds. 

Zayne groans at the sensation, his head falling back and you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, rolling your hips wantonly, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Who are you?” he whispers, groping the fat of your ass.

“W- what?” you pull back, confusion spreading across your face.

The Emperor guides your hips to continue moving, your folds hugging his cock as you grind against it.

“Who are you?” Zayne asks again, “your title, what is it?”

Pleasure has made your mind hazy, and you can’t discern whether he’s playing a game of some sort with his questions, or whether he’s suffering from some sort of untimely amnesia.

“Your concubine,” you reply, “I thought-”

You jolt in his arms when he suddenly lands a heavy spank to your ass, his eyes narrowing when he hears your answer.

“Incorrect,” Zayne murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass in warning.

“I am your concubine- ah!”

Zayne shakes his hand, spanking you twice. You can feel the prickly heat spread across your skin, the pain searing. You glare up at him, and he smiles back, his hand smoothing over your reddened backside. 

“Who are you, my love?” he whispers, his nose nudging yours.

Oh. Oh. 

The Emperor’s insistence is a remarkable thing, you think. He may be even more stubborn than you are. Zayne’s fingers tapping against your cheek brings you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting his. 

“I- I am your Empress,” you say quietly.

“Precisely.”

Zayne slots his lips over yours and you mewl, your hips beginning to rock again, inner thighs wet with your slick and his pre-cum smeared over his abdomen. He kisses you over and over until you’re short of breath and your lips are swollen and slick with his spit.

“Will you take my cock, my love?” 

“Y- yes,” you say airily, lifting your hips as he grips the base of his cock, “please.”

Zayne squeezes your hip, watching as you bite your lip and sink down on his cock. His cock is just as girthy as you remember, filling up your needy hole perfectly. Your body falls forward at the feeling and Zayne kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Always take my cock so well,” he praises.

Your hands plant themselves against his chest as your head tips back, taking what you want from him. Hips rising and falling, airy moans filling the air, you ride the Emperor. Zayne moans with you, his hands kneading at the flesh of your sides before drifting to take handfuls of your ass too.

“So good,” you slur, the force of your movements increasing, “feels so good, Zayne.”

“I know,” Zayne whispers, watching the bounce and sway of your breasts as you move atop him, “use me, my love.”

You do as he says, using him to drive yourself further to the edge of pleasure. The sounds filling the throne room are lewd, the clap of skin echoing throughout coupled with your shared noises.

Your thighs burn as you roll your hips, taking his cock deeper into the heat of your cunt, feeling it punch into the most sensitive spot inside of you. It’s too much, the mind-numbing sensations and your own body tiring with every movement.

You slump against him, hips slowing to a pitiful stop, his fat cock still stuffed inside of you. It twitches and you whimper, peering up at Zayne desperately.

“Husbands should take care of their wives,” you mumble, lips pressing against his.

“But we are not yet married,” he whispers teasingly. 

Zayne kisses you slowly, his hand sliding up your neck and stopping to cup your cheek. He molds you to his will, maneuvering your body as he sees fit, grabbing at every inch of flesh he can reach.

“But I am yours,” you say earnestly, “and I will be yours till the day I die.”

“You will, won’t you?” Zayne smiles, drawing you closer, “nothing makes me happier, my dear.”

You wail when he suddenly ruts up into you, balls slapping against your ass as he tightens his grip to bounce you up and down on his lap. Your hands lose their holds on his shoulders, scrabbling for stability until you find purchase on the top of his throne. 

The Emperor is fucking you on his throne. 

You try to feel some sense of mortification, but you can’t, the feeling of his cock erasing all sensible thoughts from your mind. Zayne slaps your ass and you squeak, body falling forward even more. Your breasts press into his face and you whine when he mouths at them, sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

The Emperor’s name leaves your mouth in a pleading chant and he answers your needs, pulling you down until your cunt is flush with the base of his cock, pussy swallowing up his length completely. Zayne slows to a grind, keeping his cock stuffed inside of you. 

You curl an arm around his neck, hugging him closer to your breasts and Zayne groans, his mouth opening wider to try and take in your entire breast. He stares up at you, the flush on his cheeks deepened and eyes so, so soft. 

Your lips slot over his as soon as his mouth detaches from your breast, your lips working against his slowly and sweetly, hips swaying back to meet the slow thrusts of his hips.

“You have ruined me,” you confess, cheek resting on his shoulder.

“Better it be me than some other man,” he whispers.

You agree with him on that. Zayne has given you far more than you could’ve possibly dreamed, the twist of fate bringing you something, or rather, someone to cherish.

“You are everything, Zayne.”

He groans at your bold words, his head falling back against his throne. You come undone in slow waves, body trembling as he comes with you, his cock kicking inside of you as hot cum spurts from the tip, filling you up. You can feel the thickness of it, cum spilling into you for a few moments longer as your hips slow to a stop.

You both breathe heavily, his chest moving under yours. A thin sheen of sweat covers your bodies, robes forgotten as they lie at the foot of the throne. 

A soft smile graces your lips as you move his hair out of his eyes, tilting his head to kiss his forehead.

“You spoil me,” Zayne mutters, nuzzling into your palm.

“I think it is the other way around,” you laugh breathlessly.

He sighs, slumping in his throne, his cock still inside of you. You can feel it softening, no longer plugging you full as cum begins to leak out from your pussy.

“I may need more tea,” you whisper.

Zayne huffs in amusement, his fingers collecting his viscous cum. He smears it across your pussy, his fingers catching onto your clit as he rubs his cum onto the little bud. He lifts his hand to your mouth and you accept eagerly, staring into his eyes as you suck his fingers clean of cum.

“Minx,” he mutters.

You giggle, kissing the pads of his fingers affectionately, shifting to sit on his thigh. Zayne smiles in return, his hands massaging your sore thighs. He kisses your cheek a few times, peppers a few kisses here and there over your shoulder.

“Feeling better?” Zayne asks, nuzzling your cheek.

“Much,” you whisper, smiling up at him, “but I fear I may not be able to walk.”

“Shall I carry you again?” the Emperor whispers.

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “I did not enjoy that.”

“Lying is punishable by death.”

“You are insufferable,” you whisper.

Zayne leans forward for another kiss, but you deny him, slipping off of his lap. He laughs when your thighs tremble, reaching out to catch you by the waist before your knees buckle.

He tugs you onto his lap, thwarting your escape as he kisses you again. You think you won’t be leaving this place anytime soon.

-

Zayne doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful in this world than when you’re sleeping. 

The slow rise and fall of your chest, the sweet innocence of your face, your hair splayed against the pillows, the gods must favor him for they’ve sent him a vision.

He smiles as he watches you stir in your sleep, brushing away the hair that’s fallen onto your face. Zayne can’t resist leaning closer, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek, feeling your soft skin under his.

Zayne likes it when you smile, when you glare, the way you protest against his subtle teases. He’s never met someone as endearing as you, never bothered to take interest in another until you came along with that tray of tea clutched in your hands. He hasn’t told you about how his own heart flutters at the mere thought of you, and doesn’t think he will. He’d be better off showing you instead.

Above all, he remembers when you’d stumbled into his chambers, your flustered disposition as you’d apologized. He’d been lonely before you, trapped in a dull existence with others meandering through his life without purpose.

But you’ve changed things now. He feels free when he hears your laugh, the light in your eyes warming him from within. The world around him seems brighter, sparks of color appearing in places he had never seen before. 

You had painted the world for him.

[yuujispinkhair]

Boxer!Sukuna headcanons

Inspired by this lovely ask. Thank you so much for sending me that and making me lose my mind over Boxer!Sukuna.

Pairing: Boxer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, modern AU, smut, squirting. Mentions of boxing injuries, biting, blood. I know that boxers usually wear a groin protector, but I chose to ignore this for this AU because I wanted to write a sexy detail lol. Sukuna + Reader are in a relationship. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always wants you by his side backstage until it's time for him to enter the arena. You are his good luck charm and the only one who is allowed to wrap the bandages around his hands before he slips into his gloves. Not that he needs any luck with the skills he has, but he loves seeing you press your sweet kisses on his boxing gloves and smile at him before you hug him tightly and tell him to please be careful.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gets a warm feeling in his heart when he sees how worried you always are. Much more nervous before his fights than he is. But he always reassures you, wrapping his muscular tattooed arms tightly around you and hugging you to his firm body while he tells you, "Don't worry, princess. You know I never lose."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who smiles while you help him get dressed before a fight, helping him slip into the white silk kimono he wears for his ring entrance show. He can clear his mind the best when he feels your gentle hands caressing over his broad back.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gives you his most charming smile before he grabs your chin and asks you for a good luck kiss, not just on his boxing gloves but also on his lips.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always tells you he loves you before he leaves the backstage area. And hearing your "I love you, too" in return gives him another surge of motivation.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose ring-entrance show always makes the crowd go wild. The whole arena is bathed in blood-red light. A picture of an ancient shrine in a sea of blood gets projected onto the large screens. Dramatic classical music starts playing as a huge throne of skulls emerges from the fog, with Sukuna lounging casually on it, his head resting on the back of his hand. He's wearing the snow-white kimono and a crown on his pink hair, presenting himself as The King of Curses, which is his stage name.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose stage name fits him perfectly. One look at him and his powerful body and that dangerous and ambitious glint in his eyes, and everyone knows this guy is truly a King in the boxing ring.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gracefully walks towards the ring with an arrogant look on his tattooed face, only accompanied by his assistant Uraume, who walks a few steps behind him as if they are a loyal shrine servant who follows their master obediently. They take off Sukuna's kimono for him and bow respectfully while the crowd cheers loudly.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks intimidating but beautiful as he stands there with a posture like a God while the white silk slips off his broad shoulders and reveals all the firm muscles and the sexy tattoos on his tall, athletic body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who drops his serious act the moment he climbs into the ring and instead smirks his most charming smirk and lifts a hand to casually wave at his fans, letting them celebrate him as if he already won.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose last glance before every match belongs to you, though. As much as he enjoys the attention and worship from his fans, he always loves your gaze on him the most. You are the one who grounds him before a fight, the one who gives him the strength and the right mindset to lead him to victory.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes look directly into yours while he kisses his boxing gloves, at the same spot where your lips left their kisses a few minutes ago backstage. And right before he turns around to face the referee and his opponent, he winks at you and mouths, "I'll win this fight for you, baby".

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who already mocks his opponent before the fight even starts. Smiling tauntingly at him and asking him if he is scared. "You know, you can still run, little boy."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy during his fights. All of his attacks are powerful and well-planned. He moves gracefully through the ring, like a big cat on the prowl, beautiful and deadly. Everyone can see that he isn't someone who just relies on his brute strength. Sukuna is intelligent, and he uses his mind to win his fights.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is both hated and loved by the judges. They hate how cocky he is but admire his skills and respect him for how well-prepared he is for his matches.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wins most of his fights with a knockout, laughing triumphantly when the referee counts down the seconds.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who only loses fights when he gets disqualified for committing a foul. Sometimes, he bites his opponents, drawing blood with his sharp teeth and laughing as he licks the blood off his lips. You know that this is also part of Sukuna's strategy. He is too controlled to let himself get carried away during a fight, but he loves the reputation those bloody attacks give him, basking in the fear he sees in his opponents' eyes when he whispers to them before a fight, "Did you see the guy I bit last month? Let's see how your blood tastes on my tongue."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is brilliant at blocking punches but also cannot be stopped if he gets hit. You used to be worried sick when you saw him receiving blows to the head until Sukuna reassured you that he is allowing it on purpose. It's all for the show. And sometimes, because he craves the pain since, it will spur him on even more.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who laughs after every punch his opponent lands, smirking cat-like as he licks the blood off his cracked lip, and his wild maroon eyes glitter amusedly at the other guy: "Aww, was that all you can do, brat? Gimme more, come on! Punch me! Make me bleed for real, you coward!"

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy with his tattooed skin all sweaty, every muscle in his tall, strong body taut. His veins standing out, and his broad chest rising and sinking as he breathes deeply. The outline of his long, thick cock visible through his dark red boxing shorts, making you want him so much.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wears a sexy smirk on his beautiful tattooed face when he gets declared winner. He looks deeply into your eyes when the referee yanks his hand into the air to signal his win. This first moment is always for you alone, mesmerizing maroon eyes silently telling you that Sukuna dedicates this win to you.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who then punches his fist into the air and does a little round in the ring to let the crowd celebrate him like the King that he is. He is a professional, giving his fans what they crave, even while he craves something very different at that moment after a match.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who expects you to wait for him in his private locker room backstage, naked and wet, with your legs spread, ready to get taken by him.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who takes you rough and hard. He needs to fuck you to come down again after being so pumped up during his fight. His tall, muscular body is still dripping with sweat, smelling so sexy, a mix of sweat and musk and his expensive cologne. His breath is loud and harsh in your ear, turning into low, hoarse groans as he pounds your cunt with his cock and his heavy balls, just like he pounded his opponent with his fists.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who rubs your swollen clit firmly and whispers dirty things in your ear, making sure you give him your everything and squirt all over him when you cum on his fat cock.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who coos at you and calls you his good girl, his love, as he chases his own orgasm, finally allowing himself to let go, fucking you with hard erratic thrusts, his face buried in your neck, moaning loudly until he captures your lips in a heated kiss when he shoots his hot cum into your cunt.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who cuddles you afterward, pressing himself tightly against you while he is still buried balls-deep inside you, resting his forehead against yours and thanking you for being his lucky charm and the one who gives him strength. He stays like that, pressing you down with his heavy body, kissing you tenderly until his breathing finally calms down and the sweat on his body begins to dry.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who picks you up and murmurs to you, "Hold on to me, princess," before he carries you to the shower, not letting go of you even for a second, needing his princess on his cock and in his arms.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who showers with you and lets you wash him, sighing when you massage shower gel into his taut muscles, caressing him, and cleaning him, easing the tension in his body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who returns the favor and lets his large, calloused hands wander gently over your naked and soaped-up body while he kisses you nonstop. Who caresses another orgasm out of you while you stroke his long thick cock slowly, making him spill his seed all over your hand.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who isn't the famous boxer, The King of Curses, anymore, when he is here under the shower with you. Here he is just Sukuna, your fiancé, who is joking around with you, all playful again, grinning that sexy grin and kissing you so sweetly, whispering against your skin how much you mean to him, and asking you where you want to have a late dinner tonight.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who fucks you once more, this time against the shower wall with your legs wrapped tightly around his hips and your hands in his pink hair. But this time, it is slow, sensual lovemaking. Slow, deep thrusts and tender French kisses until you both find completion at the same time and moan into each other's mouth. The perfect finish for a successful match.

HE IS SO SEXY 😭😭 I didn't know I would write so much for Boxer!Sukuna, but I enjoyed it so much to think of his dramatic ring-entrance show and the way he boxes, etc. I hope you enjoyed it too!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.