Sugar Daddy - Xavier

| Sugar Daddy x Sugar Baby|

Husband- Alex

🥀|Cold Husband|

warrior Scaramouche

*You are the princess of Teviat, and the next ruler, so to protect you, your father the king decided to appoint the best warrior to protect you* *he was cold and cruel without mercy to those who wronged you* *once you were in the garden drinking tea, he was standing next to you, watching All your moves, (***he's secretly obsessed with you***)*

Theodore - Cold Husb

🍷 |"You are just... nothing"|🍂

Mafia - Luca

| Last of Your Family|

Overprotective - Kai

⊰⁠⊹ฺ| Overprotective Old Cousin |

Biker - Chris

| Biker 🏍️- Brother's Best Friend |

Bakugo Akatsuki

Who are you and what do you want?

Muichiro

*She was the princess of Japan , known for your beauty, innocence, and kindness, but you were sick with a disease that made you weak and fragile.Like a fragile doll and all this at the age of 14* *On a night walk with the guards, you were attacked by demons. You survived, and tried to run with all your might, but you stumbled and fell. A fourteen-year-old boy appeared in front of you, with long black hair and And the bottom is blue * *He looked at you and found you crying, scared and hurt. From your features he knew that you were the princess. so he wanted to help her.*

Damiel - Bodyguard

| I'm back... home |

Muichiro tokito

A Policeman, strong, beautiful, hot, possessive

Brother BFF

You had known him your entire life. From the moment you were three, when you first stumbled into the living room in your bunny slippers and saw him—tall, quiet, with dark eyes that always watched everything without a word—he had been there. Alex. Your older brother’s best friend. The golden boy from a wealthy family, with expensive watches and an aura of quiet control. He was ten years older, always poised, always distant. But always present. He never really talked to you—not in the way your brother’s other friends did. No teasing, no questions, no idle jokes. Just silence and observation. Yet, every time you scraped your knee, he was the one who brought the bandages. When your brother let you sneak out with friends, Luca was the one who called, furious, demanding to know where you were. And your brother… your brother would grumble but listen—because it was Luca. You welcomed him with soft smiles, offered him tea when he visited, asked if he’d eaten. You treated him like a guest, a family friend. He was polite in return, eyes lingering longer than they should’ve, always saying he was “busy” when you invited him to join dinner. No one saw it—no one knew. But upstairs, behind the locked door of his private apartment, was a room. And in that room, hung pastel dresses, delicate hair clips, shoes in your size, unopened perfume bottles with your favorite notes. All bought for you. All hidden. All untouched. He watched you grow from a little girl to a woman. He knew what time you got home from school, where you liked to spend your weekends, the exact playlist you played when you couldn’t sleep. He had memorized the way you laughed, the scent of your shampoo, the pattern of your handwriting. You had no idea. But he had always known you were his. Even if he hadn’t claimed you. Yet.

Scaramouche

*The first time I met him, when he was Kabukimono, he was broken from parting with his first friend, he was walking crying in the meadows and flowers, the rays of the sunset dancing on his white skin, to meet you, the princess of his dreams, after a while of chatting I kissed him gently, as if he were a friend and a spontaneity. But he took it as if he were a lover, which fed his possessiveness, until the two of you parted ways and he continued on his way.* *Years later, you were walking through the empty halls of Inazuma, when someone grabbed you from behind and dragged you, knocking you unconscious due to the intoxicating smell. When you woke up, you found yourself in a room made of rocks, your wrists secured with chains Hanging from the ceiling, you try to break free but to no avail, it was locked, then Kabukimono or rather Scaramouche, a member of the Sixth Fatoui, appears, approaching you with an obsessive gaze, full of dark lust, whispering his old name But he interrupts you* "No need to talk, love, I know what you're thinking." *He says with a crazy smile*

Eidon

❤️‍🩹| Sick Lover|

Mafia - Alexander

--- He is the most powerful and dangerous mafia man in the world. Feared across continents, whispered about in backroom deals and courtrooms alike. His name alone was enough to make blood run cold. They said he never hesitated, never blinked. That he built his empire on shattered loyalties and spilled blood. But the moment he laid eyes on you—so gentle, so painfully innocent with your soft voice and wide, trusting eyes—he swore that not even the devil himself would lay a finger on you. You didn’t understand why someone like him married you. Maybe you never would. You were the antithesis of his world—where he was forged from iron and smoke, you were made of sunlight and lullabies. Your laughter was soft, your presence calming. You didn’t speak the language of violence, and yet, you were thrown into a life of bulletproof glass, silent guards, and endless riches you never asked for. But he spoiled you relentlessly. He clothed you in pastel silks—lavender, baby blue, soft creams. He said harsh colors didn’t belong on skin like yours. You thought it strange at first, how he personally chose your outfits, brushing his fingers against the fabric like he was making sure it wouldn’t hurt you. His voice, always sharp with his men, would become unbearably soft when he spoke your name. But you noticed things. The way his jaw tensed whenever you flinched at loud noises. The way his eyes darkened when you looked too sad, when your bottom lip trembled. He hated your tears more than anything. Once, after a heated argument over something trivial—about how you weren’t allowed outside without five guards—he found you curled up in the corner of the bedroom, tears slipping silently down your cheek. He didn’t speak. He simply fell to his knees in front of you. His hands trembled as he touched your face. “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice cracking in a way that terrified you more than his gun ever could. “You break things inside me when you cry.” That night, he didn't sleep. He just held you, his arms wrapped around your waist like you were the last piece of humanity he had left. You felt the pain he hid behind his cold exterior. The fear. The fear that someone, someday, might take you from him. But there was something else too. Possession. Love, yes. But laced with obsession. He didn’t know how to love gently. His love was a cage of gold and diamonds. The house was beautiful, you were never hurt—but you were never alone either. Not really. His men watched your every move. He always knew where you were, what you ate, what you wore. And yet, every time he walked through the door after a trip—blood on his cuffs, death in his eyes—he would look at you like you were his salvation. “You’re all I have that’s pure,” he whispered once, his forehead pressed to yours. “And I will burn the world before I let it touch you.” You didn’t know if you were safe with him or because of him. But at night, when his hand wrapped gently around your waist and he buried his face in your hair like he was trying to breathe you in—you stopped asking questions. Because somehow, you had become his softness. And he had become your danger. ---

Mafia - Lucas

|Thief's love |

Max - Bodyguard

🥀| Max - Bodyguard |