#I don’t care how you do it just get him away from me

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | proposals

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested) : he surprises you... with a ring.

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : suggestive themes ୨ৎ : word count : 4586

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a plead for more fluff, your prayer has been answered!

ʚ・max verstappen

“is it just me, or has max been acting weird lately?” you asked your friend as you absently fiddled with the hem of your jacket in the paddock. max was preparing for qualifying, and despite your effort to focus on the hum of activity around you, your thoughts kept circling back to him.

your friend shot you a curious look. “weird how? do you think he’s hiding something?”

you shrugged, letting out a small laugh to downplay your growing suspicion. “i don’t know… it’s not like he’s being distant or anything. he’s just been—antsy. like he’s waiting for something. it’s weird.”

your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your overthinking. “maybe he is hiding something,” they teased. “or maybe you’re just overanalyzing.”

you huffed out a laugh, but the thought lingered.

later that evening, you met max for dinner at a cozy restaurant tucked away from the usual chaos of race weekends. the two of you had managed to carve out this little slice of normalcy amidst the whirlwind of his career, and you always treasured it.

but tonight, something felt different.

max was his usual self—sweet, attentive, and playful—but there was an edge to him, like he was holding his breath. you’d caught him glancing at you more than usual, his leg bouncing slightly under the table.

you set your glass down and decided to just ask. “alright, max, what’s going on? you’ve been acting—”

before you could finish, the lights in the restaurant suddenly dimmed.

“what the—?” you muttered, looking around in confusion as candles flickered to life on the table.

and then, from the shadows, a few familiar faces emerged—your closest friends, your family, all smiling warmly at you.

your breath caught. “what is happening?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned back to max.

but when your eyes met his, he was no longer sitting. he was kneeling.

“max…” you started, your heart pounding as he smiled up at you, his blue eyes shimmering with emotion.

“let me talk before you say anything,” he said with a soft laugh, his voice slightly shaky but full of warmth. “i know i’ve been weird lately—sorry about that. i’ve just been planning this day over and over in my head. i wanted it to be perfect because…”

he took a deep breath, and you saw the slightest tremor in his hands as he held out a small velvet box. “because i love you more than i can put into words. you’ve changed my life in ways i never thought possible, and i can’t imagine spending another moment without you by my side. so…”

he opened the box to reveal a stunning ring, and your eyes blurred with tears. “will you marry me?”

for a moment, all you could do was stare, your hand covering your mouth as you tried to process everything. and then, in true fashion, you couldn’t help but joke through the overwhelming emotion.

“max, get up. you’re embarrassing me!” you said, laughing through your tears.

he laughed too, his cheeks flushing. “let me finish my speech, will you?”

you nodded, still grinning as he continued.

“i’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. you’re my everything. my partner, my best friend, my world. i don’t care if this is embarrassing because i’d embarrass myself a thousand times over if it meant i could call you mine forever.”

his words hit you right in the heart, and by the time he asked again, “so, will you marry me?” you could barely get the words out through your tears.

“yes,” you whispered, then louder, “yes! of course!”

the room erupted into cheers as max stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. he kissed you, softly at first, then with all the love and relief he’d been holding back.

as your friends and family gathered around to congratulate you, max leaned close to whisper in your ear, “i told you i wasn’t being weird for no reason.”

you laughed, leaning your forehead against his. “you’re still a little weird, but i love you anyway.”

and from the way he smiled at you, you knew this was just the beginning of forever.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

“let me take you to italy early,” lewis said, his warm brown eyes fixed on you as he tried to convince you. “we can explore the city together before i have to make my debut with ferrari. just us.”

you hesitated, glancing out the window at the familiar, cozy gray skies of home. “but my home is here, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft. “here in the uk.”

lewis reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “i know,” he said, giving you that boyish smile that always made your heart melt. “but this’ll be different. just one week, before the madness starts again. come on, let me steal you away.”

you sighed, knowing full well that he’d already won you over. “alright,” you relented, a small smile tugging at your lips. “but only because it’s you.”

the trip was nothing short of magical.

lewis took you through the heart of italy, weaving through cobblestone streets and picturesque piazzas, his excitement contagious. he made you try every local delicacy, promising it was “for the full experience,” and insisted on taking candid photos of you when you weren’t looking.

midweek, he brought you to the ferrari factory. his face lit up as he showed you around, the glint in his eyes a mix of pride and anticipation. watching him interact with the team, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of admiration for him, knowing how much this new chapter meant to him.

and then came the last night.

lewis had insisted you get your nails done that morning, though he was unusually cryptic about why. “just trust me,” he said with a wink before leaving you to pamper yourself. when you got back to the hotel, you found a stunning dress laid out on the bed, a handwritten note from him resting on top.

“wear this tonight. no questions. xx lewis”

dressed and ready, you stepped into the car he’d arranged, and after a short drive, you arrived at the most breathtaking spot. the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over a lush hillside. string lights twinkled softly above a blanket spread out on the grass, surrounded by candles. a picnic was perfectly arranged, and standing in the middle of it all was lewis, holding your favorite flowers.

“you look stunning,” he said, his voice low and full of admiration as you approached. he kissed your cheek before leading you to sit.

the evening was perfect���good food, laughter, and stories shared as the world seemed to fade away around you. but as the night settled into a quiet calm, lewis stood and gently pulled you to your feet.

your brows furrowed as you looked at him, but before you could say anything, he was already lowering himself onto one knee.

“lewis…” you whispered, your hand flying to your mouth as he pulled a small box from his pocket.

“i’ve been thinking about how to say this for weeks,” he began, his voice steady but full of emotion. “you’ve been my rock, my partner, my everything. through all the highs and lows, you’ve been there, and i don’t know how i ever got this lucky.

“joining ferrari, starting this new chapter—it’s exciting, but none of it matters without you by my side. you make me better in every way, and all i want is to spend the rest of my life with you, sharing every moment, every adventure, every quiet night.”

tears welled in your eyes as he opened the box, revealing a stunning ring that caught the flicker of the candlelight.

“so,” he said, his smile soft and nervous all at once, “will you marry me?”

for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, overwhelmed with love and disbelief. finally, you managed to nod, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking before you said it again, louder this time. “yes, lewis. of course.”

he slipped the ring onto your finger, standing to pull you into his arms as you laughed through your tears. “i love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

and as you looked out over the beautiful italian countryside, wrapped in his arms, you knew this was the start of something even more incredible than you could’ve ever imagined.

ʚ・george russell

“you know,” you said, laughing as you took another bite of your lunch, “my friends keep saying the craziest thing lately.”

george glanced up from his plate, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. “oh? what have they been saying?”

“they keep telling me you’re going to propose to me,” you said, laughing even harder at the thought. “isn’t that wild?”

the laughter caught in your throat when george, mid-bite, choked on his food. his eyes widened slightly as he reached for his water, and you watched him with a raised brow.

“are you okay?” you asked, stifling a laugh.

once he recovered, he looked at you, a little too intently. “i mean… if i were going to propose, would you be mad?”

you tilted your head, smiling softly. “of course not, my love. but you’ve been so busy lately. i know you wouldn’t be planning something like that right now.”

george nodded, his expression unreadable. “right… of course.”

but something in his tone made you pause.

over the next few days, the idea seemed to follow you everywhere. your friends weren’t letting up, either.

“why would he ask you to get your nails done?” one of them asked pointedly.

“and your hair,” another chimed in. “he’s definitely planning something.”

you shook your head, laughing off their theories, though you couldn’t deny the tiniest flicker of curiosity. still, george had been acting a little… shady. subtle, but shady. you chalked it up to his usual busy schedule, brushing off the idea of anything more.

at least, until a few days later.

the beach was stunning, a secluded stretch of soft sand meeting endless waves that shimmered under the setting sun. you’d been surprised when george suggested a quiet getaway, just the two of you. he said it was to relax before the season picked up again, but something about the way he kept fidgeting had your nerves on edge.

as you walked along the shore, the golden light casting an ethereal glow, george suddenly stopped.

“wait,” he said, reaching for your hand.

you turned to him, your brows furrowing slightly. “what’s up?”

he smiled, a nervous but endearing smile, and before you could ask again, he was down on one knee.

your heart stopped.

“george,” you breathed, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“alright,” he began, grinning up at you. “first off, i have to say, i cannot believe you didn’t catch on. you’re usually much more observant, love.”

your jaw dropped, half in shock and half in amusement. “you’re making fun of me now?”

he laughed, but his expression quickly softened. “i’m serious, though. i’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. you’re my everything—my partner, my best friend, the person i want to spend every moment with. i love you more than i can put into words, and i can’t imagine life without you.”

tears welled in your eyes as he pulled out a small velvet box, revealing a sparkling ring.

“so,” he said, his voice steady and full of emotion, “will you marry me?”

for a moment, you just stared at him, overwhelmed by the weight of the moment. finally, you nodded, tears streaming down your face. “yes, george. of course, yes!”

he slipped the ring onto your finger before standing and wrapping you in his arms. you laughed, still in disbelief, as he pressed his lips to yours.

“i can’t believe you,” you said between laughs, your head resting against his chest. “you really planned all of this?”

“i did,” he said, smiling down at you. “and i’d do it a hundred times over just to see that look on your face.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

“hermosa, would you like to go out for dinner on friday?” carlos asked, his voice soft as you stood by the mirror, finishing up your nightly routine.

“dinner? on friday?” you repeated, slipping into bed beside him, a smile tugging at your lips. “i’d love to, amor.”

carlos leaned over, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. “perfecto. the season starts soon, and i want to spend as much time as i can with you before it all gets busy again.”

you smiled, feeling your heart melt a little more—like it always did with him.

the days passed quickly, and soon friday arrived.

carlos, as always, had everything meticulously planned. he’d picked out your outfit—a stunning dress in your favorite color—and, true to his usual thoughtful self, made sure his suit coordinated perfectly. if you wore a red dress, carlos would find a way to incorporate red into his look, whether it was his tie, pocket square, or even the lining of his jacket. it was one of those little things that made him so uniquely him.

“you look breathtaking,” he said as he helped you into the car, his eyes filled with nothing but admiration.

“and you match,” you teased, running your hand along his lapel. “as always.”

he grinned, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “siempre,” he murmured.

dinner was perfect—an intimate table for two at a beautiful restaurant with warm candlelight and soft music in the background. carlos, ever the gentleman, kept his focus entirely on you, listening intently as you talked and making you laugh with his playful jokes.

but as the evening came to an end, something about his energy shifted. he seemed more nervous than usual, though he tried to play it off.

“let’s take a walk,” he suggested as you both stepped outside.

the air was cool, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the cobblestone street. you didn’t think much of it until carlos suddenly stopped in front of the restaurant, turning to face you.

“carlos?” you asked, confused as he reached for your hands.

his dark eyes met yours, filled with an emotion so raw it took your breath away. “hermosa,” he started, his voice a little unsteady. “there’s something i’ve been wanting to say for a long time now.”

before you could process what was happening, he was down on one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

gasps and murmurs rose from the small crowd of onlookers nearby, but all you could focus on was him.

“i love you,” carlos said, his voice stronger now, filled with certainty. “i love everything about you—your laugh, your quirks, the way you care so deeply for the people around you. i love how you notice the little things, how you make every day feel special just by being in it. and i want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.”

tears welled in your eyes as he opened the box, revealing a ring that sparkled even in the dim light.

“will you marry me?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours.

for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. and then, with a tearful laugh, you nodded.

“yes, carlos,” you whispered, your voice shaky but sure. “of course, yes!”

cheers erupted around you as he slid the ring onto your finger and stood, pulling you into his arms. he kissed you deeply, his smile pressed against your lips.

“you had one choice,” he teased quietly, a playful glint in his eyes.

“and it was the right one,” you replied, grinning through your tears.

as he held you close, you couldn’t help but think about how every little detail he cared about, every thoughtful gesture, every look, and every word all came together to make this moment so perfectly, beautifully carlos.

ʚ・charles leclerc

“ma chérie, you look beautiful,” charles said with a soft smile as he grabbed your hand and spun you gently, making your dress twirl. he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear before planting a playful kiss on your neck. “but you’d look better with it off,” he teased, his voice low and flirtatious.

your jaw dropped in mock offense as you lightly smacked his chest. “charles!” you laughed, shaking your head. “keep it in your pants, baby.”

he laughed, his green eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulled you into his arms. “are you ready to be on the yacht for the first time since we’ve been back in monaco?”

you nodded eagerly, your smile wide. “of course i am. there’s nothing better than being with you on the sea.”

charles smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “je t’aime.”

“i love you too, amore,” you replied softly, leaning into him.

the two of you headed to the yacht, the sun casting a golden glow over the sparkling water. when you arrived, the crew greeted you warmly, and the yacht began to drift away from the dock, leaving monaco’s skyline behind.

charles took your hand, leading you up to the second level. as you stepped onto the deck, you gasped. a beautifully set candlelit table awaited, complete with a chilled bottle of wine and a server standing by. the soft glow of the candles reflected off the water, creating a magical ambiance.

“charles,” you breathed, looking around in awe. “what is this?”

he smiled, his gaze full of adoration. “i thought you deserved to be spoiled, ma chérie. it’s been too long since we’ve had time like this together.”

he pulled out your chair, helping you settle in before taking his own seat across from you.

“charles, this is really beautiful,” you said, your voice full of gratitude.

“anything for you, cherie,” he replied, his accent making the words sound even sweeter.

dinner was perfect, the two of you sharing laughs, stories, and heartfelt conversation. charles seemed especially thoughtful, his gaze lingering on you more than usual.

after the last course, he shifted in his chair, his demeanor becoming more serious yet still soft. “you know,” he began, his tone quieter, “being with you has been the best part of my life. i know i’ve been busy, and sometimes i’m not always there as much as i should be.”

you tilted your head, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “charles, what’s going on?”

he stood up slowly, reaching into his pocket. your heart began to race as he pulled out a small velvet box, his fingers trembling slightly.

“mon amour,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of you.

your hand flew to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes.

“i’ve thought about this moment every day,” he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “i love everything about you—your quirks, the little things you do when you think no one is watching, the way you make me feel like the luckiest man alive just by being by my side. i love your flaws, your strengths, all of it. it’s everything i’ve ever wanted in my life, forever.”

your tears spilled over as he opened the box, revealing a dazzling diamond ring that sparkled even in the candlelight.

“i want to spend the rest of my life with you, cherie. will you marry me?”

for a moment, you were too overwhelmed to speak, your emotions taking over. finally, you nodded, laughing through your tears. “yes, charles. yes, of course!”

the smile that broke across his face was brighter than the stars above as he slipped the ring onto your finger. he stood, pulling you into his arms and kissing you deeply, your tears mixing with his own.

“i love you,” he whispered, holding you close as the yacht gently swayed with the waves.

“i love you too,” you replied, your heart full to bursting.

and as you stood there together, the sea stretching endlessly around you, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be—with charles, forever.

ʚ・lando norris

“lando, you’re being so distant. like, what is your issue?” you asked, crossing your arms as you sat in the passenger seat, watching him grip the wheel a little tighter than usual.

“it’s nothing, i promise,” he replied quickly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

but you couldn’t help the way your mind spiraled. “are you cheating on me?” you blurted out, your voice sharp and accusing.

lando slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over abruptly. he turned to you, his wide eyes filled with disbelief. “cheating on you? are you serious right now?”

“well, then why are you acting so weird!” you fired back, feeling frustration bubble over.

“i’m not cheating on you,” he said firmly. “and stop saying such irrational things before i crash the car!”

you huffed, crossing your arms tighter as he merged back onto the road. the tension hung thick in the air, but there was something about his tone that made you pause—he wasn’t just annoyed; he seemed… nervous.

after a few more silent minutes, the car pulled up to a secluded garden bathed in golden afternoon light. you frowned, glancing around.

“where are we?” you asked, the irritation in your voice softening as you took in the beauty of the place.

lando parked and stepped out, rushing around to open your door. he offered you his hand, and though you hesitated, you took it.

as you stepped into the garden, the feeling in your chest shifted. it was just the two of you—no other people, no distractions. the air was fragrant with blooming flowers, and butterflies flitted lazily in the sunlight.

your stomach fluttered as you glanced at lando, who was unusually quiet. he scratched the back of his neck, his signature nervous tell. that’s when it hit you—this wasn’t just a random outing.

“lando…” you started, your voice softer now.

but before you could finish, he turned to you, his cheeks flushed. “look, i know i’ve been acting weird,” he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. “and i’m sorry. it’s just… i’ve been planning this for weeks, and i was so nervous i’d mess it up.”

you blinked, your heart pounding as he dropped to one knee, pulling a small box from his jacket pocket.

your hand flew to your mouth as your suspicions were confirmed, and a wave of emotions hit you all at once.

“i love you,” lando began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “more than anything. you’ve been with me through everything—the ups, the downs, the crazy schedules, the late-night arguments about absolutely nothing.” he let out a nervous laugh, and you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“you’ve seen the best and the worst of me, and somehow, you still choose to love me. i don’t want to imagine my life without you in it. so, here i am, asking you to make it official.”

he opened the box, revealing a ring that sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight.

“will you marry me?” he asked, his voice soft, almost vulnerable.

you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling as you nodded. “yes, of course, yes!”

lando let out a breath he’d clearly been holding, slipping the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you into a tight hug.

“i can’t believe you thought i was cheating on you,” he teased, his playful smirk returning as he kissed your temple.

“well, you were acting suspicious!” you shot back, laughing through your tears.

he chuckled, holding you close. “yeah, because i was scared out of my mind. do you know how hard it is to hide something this big from you? you’re nosy.”

you swatted at him lightly, grinning. “i’m observant.”

“sure you are,” he teased, leaning down to kiss you again.

and in that quiet, magical garden, with the sunlight casting a golden glow around you, everything felt absolutely perfect.

ʚ・oscar piastri

the great barrier reef had always been a dream of yours—a place you’d talked about endlessly. and, being the proud australian that he was, oscar had promised to take you the moment the season ended. true to his word, here you were, surrounded by vibrant coral and schools of colorful fish, the water shimmering like a painting brought to life.

oscar had gone all out, arranging a private guide and setting up everything to ensure the trip was perfect for just the two of you. it felt special, even more magical than you’d imagined.

after a long snorkeling session with the guide, you emerged from the water, still adjusting your snorkel mask as droplets streamed down your face. you caught sight of oscar standing on the sand, waiting for you.

but something was different.

your heart skipped a beat as you noticed him—barefoot, dressed in a loose white button-up and tailored shorts that made him look effortlessly handsome, his usual chill vibe intact. the sun cast a golden glow over the scene, and your breath caught when you realized he wasn’t just standing there.

he was on one knee.

your hands instinctively went to your snorkel mask as if to tear it off, realizing you were standing there in a dripping swimsuit, goggles pushed awkwardly onto your forehead, and hair probably a complete mess.

“wait… what are you doing?” you stammered, feeling your cheeks burn despite the cool ocean breeze.

oscar grinned, his calm demeanor never faltering. “what does it look like i’m doing?” he teased lightly. “just wait—don’t touch the mask. you look perfect.”

“perfect?” you let out a half-hysterical laugh, glancing down at yourself. “oscar, i look ridiculous!”

but he shook his head, his eyes soft and full of adoration. “no, you don’t. you look like you. authentic. beautiful.” he took a deep breath, his fingers curling tightly around a small box in his hand.

“being with you has made my life so much better,” he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “you’ve made even the craziest, busiest days feel worth it. and i knew this was where i wanted to do this because it’s so… us. a little chaotic, but amazing.”

tears stung your eyes as the reality of the moment hit you.

“i want to spend my life with you,” oscar continued, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough for you to see the emotion behind his words. “snorkel masks, messy hair, and all. so… will you marry me?”

you couldn’t help but laugh through your tears, nodding fervently. “yes! of course, yes!”

oscar slipped the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you into his arms, the warmth of his embrace grounding you as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions.

“you know,” you sniffled, “i can’t believe you proposed to me when i looked like this.”

oscar chuckled, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “i wanted it to be real. and let’s be honest, you’d never let me live it down if i’d done something boring or predictable.”

“well, you’re right about that,” you teased, your grin wide as you leaned in to kiss him.

“besides,” he added, his tone playful now, “even with a snorkel mask on, you’re still the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing, but you couldn’t deny that this moment, messy and perfectly imperfect, was so perfectly you two.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[maskedbyghost]

Simon knew marriage came with adjustments, but nothing could have prepared him for life with a writer.

It wasn’t just the weird questions—though there were plenty of those—it was the way your mind never seemed to slow down. You’d be doing something completely normal, like folding laundry, and suddenly stop, eyes going distant.

He’d barely have time to ask what was wrong before you’d rush off to scribble something down, muttering about plot twists and character arcs.

Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night to find you sitting up in bed, phone screen lighting up your face as you frantically typed notes because “this idea can’t wait until morning.”

It meant half-finished coffee cups scattered around the house, abandoned when inspiration hit.

It meant narrating your own actions under your breath, like “she sighed, stretching her arms above her head” while actually doing it, which always made him raise an eyebrow.

And then there were the moments that made him question everything, like when you casually asked if he thought someone could realistically survive being shot twice in the chest or how long a body would take to decompose in a swamp. He used to answer with concern. Now, he barely looked up. “For a book?” “For a book.”

At first, he thought the strangest part was the research, but then he realized it was how easily you pulled him into it. You used him for everything—testing out fight scenes by making him grab your wrist so you could figure out how a character would escape, running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms as you mumbled about muscle structure and “what kind of build do you think my main guy should have?”

You studied him constantly, stealing phrases he said, describing his expressions in your notes, even admitting once that a few of your male characters had a bit of his attitude.

And then there was the way you used him for other inspiration. He figured it out one evening when he saw you sitting on the couch, staring at him with that look—one that usually meant you had something on your mind, but this time, you weren’t saying anything. Just watching.

He glanced over from where he was cleaning his gun. “What?”

You didn’t answer right away, just tilted your head slightly. “I think I want to write a new scene.”

He raised his brow, setting his things aside. “What kind of scene?”

A small smile played on your lips as you stood, walking toward him. “Something a bit messy.”

Simon leaned back, arms resting lazily on the couch as he looked you up and down. “You need details, then?”

“Mhm.” You straddled his lap, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “Need to get it just right.”

He smirked, his hands settling on your waist. “That why you’re lookin’ at me like I’m about to be put to work?”

“You don’t mind a little hard work, do you?” you teased, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

His grip tightened, voice low. “Not if you’re gonna make it worth my while.”

Much later, when you were tangled in the sheets, catching your breath, you rolled over and reached for your phone. Before you could even unlock it, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against Simon’s chest. “Nope,” he muttered against your shoulder.

You laughed. “I just had a thought—”

“Don’t care.” His voice was warm and heavy with sleep. “Whatever you’re about to write down, you can remember it in the morning.”

“But—”

A hand slid down your hip, fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I said, in the morning,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. Then, just to make sure you listened, he added, “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

Your entire body heated at the words, your brain short-circuiting for a second before snapping into overdrive. Without a word, you bolted upright, nearly diving for your phone as you started typing furiously.

Simon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you serious?”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, fingers flying across the screen. “This is really good.”

-------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[ditzydoe444]

Thinking about farmhand!Jason or cowboy!Jason who works on readers parents farm. She still lives with her parents to help them with the farm work and obviously has a big fat crush on Jason. Like when he’s chopping wood sweaty and shirtless or how he can lift a hay bale with only one hand AHHHHHHHHHH. Anyway!!!actually just need Jason to fuck her in the back of the barn (probs in the haystack OOPS) and he’s covering her mouth as he’s rutting into her cuz he can’t let them get caught and let everyone know what a slut the town sweetheart is can he?

-🍼

MDNI 18+

a/n: i did cowboy jason because i love them

jason wasn’t dumb, he knew about your wondering eyes staring at his body when he chopped wood, or how you would pretend to ‘read’ outside when he took care of the farm shirtless on a hot day. you grew up in a sheltered household, living on the farm far away from town didn’t help. “jacey you need help?” you spoke sweetly as you watched him chop wood, his muscles flexing and the slight tan on his skin glistened.

“nah don’t worry ‘bout that sweetheart ‘ve got it.”

he thought your not so discrete crush on him was adorable, as you grew up isolated you had very little friends hence why you followed him around like a little puppy.

it was harmless until the two of you started fucking.

“j-jacey jacey,” you panted as he fucked you in the barn, rutting against you as you laid on the haystack. it wasn’t comfortable by any means, but having a giant man built like a greek god buried deep inside you rubbing your gummy walls making your mind go blank, how could you complain? the barn was the safest place out of the farm, the only area where your parents didn’t wander around because they thought you were too prim and proper for a dirty place like it. “so good sweetheart you’re so tight,” he groaned as his nails dug into your soft flesh.

“so deep, so big,” you mumbled like a mantra, your eyes wide and dazed from the pleasure whilst a sheen of sweat covered your soft skin. one of jason’s hand covered your mouth, “ssshh sweetheart, need to keep quiet for me alright?”

jason was well loved by her parents, they saw him as a respectable man who helped the farm, not a man desperate and greedy for their daughter’s pussy.

he watched as the bulge in your stomach moved, how your small cunt was able to accomodate to his size alone was mesmerising. he watched as your hand weakly traced his biceps, going through every little detail and tracing the veins along it. “you’re so big jacey,” you mumbled though he came out muffled due to his hand.

he chuckled softly, kissing your neck as he continued to rut into you. “just for you sweetheart, a princess like you needs a man.”

jason was a possessive man, there was no way in hell that he would have some sort of preppy boy date you. you needed a man who would pick you up on dates in a large rusty truck, one that could build the house of your dreams with enough land that you could run and giggle along, and reassure you softly when you need it the most.

he knew your parents thought about marrying some sort of 9-5 office man in the small town, but that just wouldn’t make you happy. you were a princess, you had dreams that a skimpy cooperate man couldn’t provide. jason could build you the house of your dreams, a porch with a swing so you could read and admire him as he worked, a sunroom so you could bathe in sunlight without getting out when it’s hot and sticky with the bugs and of course small pink details and accents scattered everywhere for you to find when you’re bored.

“mmm, jacey ‘m close,” you whined as you shut your eyes from the feeling on your lower stomach, his strong hands gently coaxing your orgasm as they squeezed your lower stomach. he watches as your glossy pussy clenched around him, almost milking him. “come on sweetheart you can do it, just keep it quiet can’t have the town knowing i’m fucking the neighbourhood’s princess.”

[cherryxbooo]

Yeah, I’m the lucky one

Summary: Hiding it when you're sick from your boyfriend is one thing, but hiding it from your clingy boyfriend is a whole other challenge.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff

The paddock is alive with energy, buzzing with anticipation, the sound of engines roaring in the distance, and the hum of the crowd outside.

Lando is in his element, calm yet radiating an excitement that’s palpable.

The focus in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and it’s clear that today matters more to him than most.

The weight of the race, the pressure of the expectations, and the fire in his heart are all simmering beneath the surface.

It's a mix of raw determination and adrenaline, and it brings out the best in him.

But me? Well, I feel the complete opposite.

I woke up feeling off, my head pounding and my body aching with a fever I couldn't shake.

I knew I should stay in bed, but I couldn’t. Not today.

Not with everything he’s worked for. I couldn’t let something as trivial as being sick get in the way of him having the best race of his career.

He’s been talking about this day for weeks, getting ready for it with an intensity that I’ve only seen in the world of motorsport.

But as I made my way through the paddock, trying my best to act normal, I felt the weight of my own discomfort pulling me down.

I’ve been silently counting the minutes until I can just crawl into a quiet corner and hide.

But the last thing I want is for him to see me like this. He’d immediately worry, go into panic mode, and lose focus.

Lando, with his big heart, would put everything aside just to take care of me, and I don’t want to do that to him.

Not today. Today is about him.

As I stand next to his family, making small talk with his friends, I feel dizzy.

The lights are a little too bright, and the sounds a little too loud.

I try to steady myself, offering a weak smile whenever someone glances my way, but the effort feels exhausting.

Lando’s mum catches my eye, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of concern in her expression.

But she doesn’t say anything, just gives me a warm, reassuring smile. I’m grateful, but I can tell she knows something’s off.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel a familiar hand on my back. A small shiver runs down my spine as I turn to face Lando, and I instantly feel a warmth spread through me, despite the fever still creeping in.

“Hey baby, you okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, like he’s always aware of everything around him, especially me.

I don’t want to worry him. I can’t.

So I give him a smile that’s more practiced than I’d like to admit,

“Yeah, just a little tired. Big day, huh?”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

He studies me for a second, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, his hand gently squeezing my back.

The touch is warm, comforting. “You sure? You don’t look so great.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You focus on the race. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

Lando hesitates, his lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to gauge if I’m really okay.

But then he nods slowly, though his concern doesn’t quite vanish.

“Alright… but if you need anything, you let me know, okay?”

His voice is almost a whisper, like he’s trying not to give away just how much he cares.

“I will,” I promise, trying to keep my tone light and convincing.

But as he walks away to prepare for the race, a sense of loneliness settles over me.

The noise around me feels overwhelming, and the crowd only amplifies the ache in my head.

I find a quiet corner, away from the chaos, hoping to just breathe for a moment.

I didn't realize that I had been hiding away for a while already.

But before I know it, Lando’s voice cuts through the distance.

“You’ve been hiding from me.”

I turn to see him standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His presence alone seems to calm the storm inside me.

“I wasn’t hiding,” I protest weakly, though my voice cracks just slightly.

“Just… taking a break.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Taking a break from what? From me?”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin.

I close my eyes for a second, leaning into the touch, even though I feel like I might collapse at any moment.

“From the chaos of the paddock,” I admitted softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softens, the teasing in his eyes fading. He steps in closer, his body brushing against mine as he gently cups my face with both hands, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Hey…” His voice is tender now, a deep, comforting lull.

“Are you really feeling okay love?"

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat suddenly unbearable.

“Yes, don't worry Lan. I'm fine.”

I whisper, my voice slightly breaking as I fight the urge to lean on him completely.

I stare up at him, feeling a mix of love and pain.

I don’t want to be the one who holds him back, but I can’t deny how much I crave the support and warmth he gives me without even thinking.

Lando lowers his hands, but not without giving me one last comforting touch, his fingers brushing my wrist.

“You need to rest,” he says firmly, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind his words now.

“I’m not going to let you make it through today without me taking care of you at least once.”

I laugh softly, despite the dizziness still swirling in my head.

“I’m fine, Lando. You go be amazing out there.”

He looks at me, his eyes soft but filled with determination. “I will be. But only because you’re here.”

Before I can say anything else, he leans in, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll make sure to get at least P3 for you.”

And with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of engineers and teammates.

But the moment he’s out of sight, I feel my energy drain completely.

Regardless of how I felt I still made my way to the rest so I could support Lando and be there for him.

Everywhere I look, there’s movement, excitement, and a sense of urgency.

Lando’s already suited up and surrounded by his team, getting ready to focus on the race that could mean everything for his career.

I’m supposed to be the one cheering him on, being his support, his calm, but instead, all I can do is try to survive the overwhelming wave of heat coursing through me.

Every few seconds, my head spins, my chest feels like it's on fire, and the nausea rolls in like a tide.

It’s getting harder to keep it together, but I’m trying. I can’t let anything distract him.

I can't make this his problem today, not when he’s been working so hard for this moment.

I take a seat next to Max and Pietra, hoping the three of us can keep the mood light and give Lando a little peace before he heads into the race.

I force myself to laugh at Max's joke about the weather, but it comes out more like a wheeze.

My throat feels like it’s coated in something dry and scratchy, and each breath feels like I’m not getting enough air.

Max doesn’t notice, but Pietra does.

She’s always been that way, observant, kind, and so very perceptive.

I’ve always admired how in tune she is with people.

She shifts in her seat beside me, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face.

“You okay, Y/n?” she asks gently, her voice laced with concern.

“You look a little pale.”

I immediately try to put on a smile, but it feels like the most exhausting thing I’ve done all day.

“I’m fine, really,” I say, hoping I can convince her.

“Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Pietra doesn’t buy it, not even for a second.

She leans in closer, her gaze steady as she inspects my face, my trembling hands.

“You sure?” she presses, her brow furrowing.

“You don’t look fine. Maybe you should lay down for a bit?”

The room suddenly feels like it’s closing in on me.

The dizziness that had been simmering beneath the surface is starting to take hold, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes focused on her.

I swallow hard, trying to push the wave of nausea down, but it’s impossible to ignore now.

I nod weakly, doing my best to stay composed.

“I’m okay, Pietra. Just... a little dizzy. I think I’ll sit down for a moment.”

Max, still glued to his phone, glances up briefly, probably sensing the shift in the air.

His eyes scan me quickly before he leans closer to Pietra, muttering something under his breath, probably about how pale I look.

I’m about to wave it off, to reassure them both that it’s nothing, when Pietra’s soft hand touches my shoulder.

It’s warm and grounding, her touch gentle but insistent.

“No, you’re not okay, Y/n,” she says firmly.

“You’re not fooling me. You need to go back to the hotel and rest. Max and I will handle everything here. Don’t worry about Lando. He’ll understand. He doesn’t need to know right now, and you’re not helping him by pretending you’re fine.”

My heart clenches at her words. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to make him worry.

He’s about to race, about to compete for something so important to him.

The last thing I want is to make this about me. But Pietra’s expression leaves no room for argument.

Her hand squeezes my shoulder, and I feel a wave of guilt hit me hard.

“I... I can’t just leave,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“I don’t want him to—”

“Y/n,” Pietra interrupts, her voice soft but full of authority.

“Lando will be fine. He’ll be more upset if you stay here, pretending to be okay when you’re not. Let us take care of everything. He doesn’t need the distraction. He needs you to get better, not to keep pretending.”

I shake my head, still fighting it. “But he’s going to think I don’t care.”

“He knows you care. You don’t have to prove it by running yourself into the ground,” she says, her tone firm yet reassuring.

“You need to listen to your body. Max and I can make sure everything’s fine here.”

I hesitate for a moment, my vision swimming in and out of focus, and then I feel it, the dizziness getting worse.

My stomach turns violently, and I barely suppress a gasp. Before I can protest, Pietra’s up and at my side, helping me stand.

“Max,” she calls out to him, her voice tinged with urgency.

Max looks up from his phone, his attention now fully on us. He doesn’t need to ask questions.

Without a word, he stands, motions to security, and gestures for them to clear a path.

“We’re getting you back to the hotel,” Max says, his voice gentle but decisive.

“No arguments.”

I open my mouth to protest, to tell them I’m fine, but the dizziness overtakes me again.

I feel my legs wobble, my knees threatening to give way beneath me. The nausea is so strong now that I can’t hold it back any longer.

My head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and my heart races as I fight to keep everything together.

“Okay,” I whisper, too weak to resist any longer. “Okay, let’s go.”

Max’s arm wraps around my shoulder, steadying me as Pietra follows closely behind.

I glance over my shoulder at the paddock, seeing the hustle and bustle of the team preparing for the race.

And even though I want nothing more than to stay and support Lando, I know Pietra’s right, he doesn’t need to see me like this.

As we make our way out of the paddock, past the busy crew and excited fans, the world seems to blur again.

All I can think about is Lando, how much he’s worked for this, and how much I wish I could be there cheering him on.

But right now, all I can do is focus on getting back to the hotel and trying to heal.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Pietra murmurs, sensing my anxiety.

“Lando will understand. We’ll make sure he stays focused.”

“Thank you,” I whisper back, squeezing her hand.

Max looks over at me, offering a reassuring smile.

“No problem, Y/n. We’ve got you.”

And as they guide me toward the exit, the sound of the engines roaring to life in the distance feels far away, almost like a distant memory.

All I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that, by the time Lando crosses the finish line, I’ll be okay.

Meanwhile,

The race was intense, there was no other way to describe it.

Lando’s heart was pounding, his breath coming in quick bursts as he fought to stay focused on the track ahead.

Each corner, each straightaway felt like it mattered more than the last.

The roar of the engine under him, the vibration in his hands as he gripped the wheel,it was like the world was screaming at him to push harder, to get everything he had into every lap.

And he did.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, the world outside of his car becoming a blur of colors and sounds.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else tugging at his mind, something he couldn’t quite shake.

Just before the race started, he had caught sight of Y/n sitting among their friends, looking beautiful as always, but something was... off.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at him, her tired eyes betraying a sense of exhaustion that didn’t quite match the energy of the day.

Or how quiet she seemed, like a flicker of something hidden behind her usual smile. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something wasn’t right.

But there was no time for that.

He pushed those thoughts away, focusing back on the race, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigated the track with everything he had.

He couldn’t afford to think about anything but the next corner, the next lap, the next move.

And when he crossed the finish line, the elation of victory should’ve been enough to make everything feel perfect.

After all, he had gotten P2.

The cheers, the confetti, the roar of the crowd, it was everything he’d been working for, everything he’d dreamed of.

But in the midst of it all, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought of Y/n.

His gaze searched the area, instinctively looking for her.

He was surrounded by teammates, sponsors, friends, but all he wanted in that moment was to see her smile, to know she was okay.

He scanned the area again, but she wasn’t there.

Not where he had left her. His stomach tightened, his mind racing. Something wasn’t right.

Lando quickly moved through the crowd, dodging everyone on his way, his eyes darting between faces, searching for any sign of her.

He was so focused on finding her, he almost didn’t see Max and Pietra standing off to the side.

When he finally noticed them, his heart skipped a beat. You weren't there.

Lando’s pace quickened as he approached them, his voice betraying the worry he couldn’t hide.

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, his words coming out sharper than he intended.

Pietra exchanged a glance with Max before she sighed, the look on her face telling Lando everything he needed to know.

"She wasn’t feeling well," she said softly, her eyes clouded with concern.

"We had to send her back to the hotel."

Lando’s chest tightened, a heavy weight settling over him.

His pulse quickened, the sudden rush of guilt and worry clouding his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice rising slightly, not in anger, but in genuine confusion.

Max stepped forward, his expression calm but serious.

"Mate she didn’t want to distract you. She said it was important not to take your focus away from the race."

Lando’s mind was spinning now, the elation of his victory evaporating as quickly as it had come.

Guilt was flooding him, he couldn’t believe Y/n had been struggling, that she’d hidden it from him.

She’d always been there for him, supportive, understanding, even when he was caught up in his own world.

And now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let her down.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the weight of the situation was suffocating.

He didn’t know what to say.

All he could think about was how she had been sitting there, probably feeling miserable, and he hadn’t even noticed.

The race, his career, all of it felt so insignificant compared to the thought of Y/n being alone and sick.

“Why didn’t she just tell me? I would’ve understood. I could’ve—”

Pietra stepped forward, her hand gently resting on his arm, grounding him in the moment.

“Lando, she didn’t want you to worry. She knew how much today meant to you. She didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Max nodded in agreement.

“She’s always there for you. But she’s not the type to let herself be a distraction, not when you’re in the zone like that. You know how she is, she cares about you more than anything, but she didn’t want to pull you away from your focus.”

Lando let out a long breath, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest.

“I should’ve noticed,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I should’ve been paying more attention."

"You’re not a mind reader, Lando," Pietra said, her voice calm but firm.

Lando realized that she was right.

He quickly greeted the rest of his family and did some other duties before changing and heading back to the hotel.

Lando arrived at the hotel room, his body still buzzing from the race, but his mind consumed by a different kind of worry.

As soon as he entered, the first thing he did was quietly close the door behind him.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the dim light from the lamps were the only sounds in the room.

His eyes immediately fell on your figure, still asleep, your peaceful face glowing softly under the sheets.

The sight of you, so vulnerable yet so beautiful, made his heart ache with both affection and guilt.

He quietly pulled a chair from the small desk and sat down beside the bed, never taking his eyes off you.

He wanted to be close to his girl, but he didn’t want to wake you.

He knew you needed rest, but the worry of the day, the worry about you, hadn’t let up.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

His fingers lingered there for a second before he let out a soft breath, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on his knee.

He could almost hear the questions running through his mind, wondering why you hadn’t told him what you had been feeling.

He could feel the weight of your absence, the quiet ache in his chest from not knowing exactly what had been going on with you.

The minutes seemed to stretch on, each tick of the clock amplifying his thoughts.

He hated this uncertainty, this feeling that something had been left unsaid.

Then, after what felt like forever, a soft groan escaped from your lips, and Lando’s attention snapped to her immediately.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light in the room.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, confusion settling on her face as she took in her surroundings.

Lando watched her with a mix of relief and concern, his heart lightening at the sight of you waking up but still heavy with the questions that lingered in his mind.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Lando said softly, his voice full of warmth and affection.

My vision cleared, and I smiled sleepily at him.

Lando’s heart squeezed.

"You’re awake. I’ve been here waiting for you to wake up for, like, ages now." He chuckled softly, though his eyes were still filled with concern.

"But seriously… why didn’t you tell me?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing on me.

My hand reached for his, finding his fingers weakly, and I squeezed them, my fingers trembling a bit.

"I didn’t want to be a burden," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t want to ruin your day or take away from the race. It was important to you. I just… I didn’t want to distract you."

Lando smiled at me softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

"You’re never a burden, Y/n." He looked at me with such sincerity, it made my heart ache in the best way.

"You are always my priority, okay? Not the race, not the fans, not the win. You. Always."

I felt my heart flutter at his words, my eyes softening as I looked back at him.

The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill, and I could feel them welling up.

Being sick just makes people extra emotional, give it a break yeah?

"I’m sorry," I murmured, my voice breaking slightly.

Lando shook his head, his heart aching.

He leaned closer, cupping my cheek gently, his thumb brushing over my skin.

"You don’t have to apologize," he whispered.

"You never have to hide anything from me, especially not when it comes to you."

I felt the weight of his words, the tenderness in his touch, and I wanted so badly to just melt into him.

I was so grateful for him, for the way he always made me feel safe, loved, and heard.

Lando sat beside me on the bed, leaning back just enough to grab the water and medicine he’d set out earlier.

"You need to drink this," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

"Get some rest, and I’ll be right here with you. Just take it easy."

I hesitated for a moment, but then reached for the glass of water he held out to me.

My fingers were still shaking slightly, but I took it from him gratefully.

There was a small, tired smile on my lips as I drank, and Lando’s eyes never left me.

He was watching me closely, making sure I was okay. It felt nice to be looked after this way.

After I finished the water, Lando sat back down next to me again, his hand finding mine once more.

"You don’t ever have to hide something like that from me, okay?" he said, his voice soft but serious.

"If something’s wrong, you have to tell me. Promise me you’ll tell me next time."

I looked up at him, my eyes full of emotion, and I nodded slowly.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, and I felt a few of them slide down my cheeks.

Before I could say anything, Lando quickly wiped them away with his thumb, his touch light, tender.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again, my voice barely audible.

He slightly laughed, "You're such a crybaby when you're sick babe."

Lando leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice full of love and affection.

"I love you, baby. I love you, and that’s all that matters." His voice was quiet but strong, filled with reassurance.

I pulled him closer, resting my head against his chest, letting out a small, exaggerated sigh.

"Mmm, this is the best pillow ever," I mumbled, half-laughing, half-groaning in exhaustion.

Lando wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in tighter.

His chin rested on top of my head, and he chuckled softly.

"You come first," he said with a mock-serious tone, trying to sound all deep and dramatic.

"Always."

I snuggled in a little closer, feeling his warmth.

"Oh, I know now," I said, glancing up at him with a grin.

"You’re basically my personal butler, aren’t you? Always there when I need you."

He let out a dramatic gasp. "But of course! My whole existence is to serve you, my queen."

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a laugh.

"Thank you for being here," I said, the words half-sweet, half-teasing.

Lando smirked, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"Please don't cry again... and well yeah, where else would I be? I’m not going anywhere."

Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added,

"Besides, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. You know that, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, feeling him grin against the top of my head.

"Oh, I know," I said, playfully tapping his chest.

"You're my big soft marshmallow. I practically own you."

Lando chuckled, his arms tightening around me. "You absolutely do. And you’re not even sorry about it."

I smirked, rolling my eyes. "Well, I am your number one priority, aren’t I?"

His eyes sparkled with affection, and he pulled me a little closer.

"You’re my number one everything, Y/n. No competition."

I snorted, unable to help the grin that spread across my face.

"Good. Glad we’re clear on that."

As we sat there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside felt miles away.

All that mattered was us, his heartbeat, my tired sighs, and the way we fit together like we’d always been meant to.

For a moment, everything else faded, and all I could think was: Yeah, I’m the lucky one.

The end

[aakeysmash]

Pregnancy cravings

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Farmer!Sukuna thought dealing with your pregnancy cravings would be a walk in the park. I mean, come on, you two are basically self sufficient: he’s literally a farmer, what could you possibly crave that he doesn’t already have planted or stored?

Your cravings hit at the start of your second trimester. You’re barely showing, and probably the fact that nothing you eat stays in your stomach for more than two hours isn’t helping your case.

It’s winter and it’s snowing: your fields are currently covered in snow, your chickens are huddled up in their coop, your cows are sleeping in their heated stable… and you? You’re reading a book right in front of your fireplace. Sukuna gets home with his arms full of logs to keep the fire alive all night. He sets them on the ground before plopping down next to you with snow clinging to his hair.

“Get off, your nose is cold,” you mumble, pushing him away when he tries to give you a kiss. He raises one of his eyebrows, kissing you on the cheek either way (two times, to spite you). You let out a dramatic whine.

He chuckles, ruffling his hair and wetting your book’s pages with a couple of snowflakes. Annoyed, you roughly close the book, and turn around to give him a piece of your mind, just to find yourself wrapped in his arms.

“I said get off,” you repeat, softer, leaning in despite your words. His body heat is doing a better job than the fire at thawing the chill from your limbs.

“And I don’t care,” he replies nonchalantly. He kisses your temple, cocooning you deeper into him by opening his legs and tucking you into the space in front of him. You grumble something unintelligible.

“How are the only two people I can stand doing today?” He asks you, rocking you side by side. Seeing you pregnant makes him feel uncomfortably soft. And seeing you pregnant with his child? Oh god.

“I want ice cream.”

He stops.

“Huh?”

“More like your offspring wants ice cream,” you sniffle from under his jaw.

“I don’t think we have any in the freezer,” he responds, looking you in the eyes. Your lip starts wobbling.

“But I want it,” you brokenly say, trying to swallow your sobs. His heart clenches.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to have it today,” he says, and immediately regrets it when your eyes well up with tears.

“C’mon, don’t cry now, it’s just ice cream,” he tries to comfort you. Apparently he does a horrible job, because you start bawling.

“But I want it! And I hate that I want it so bad! You know how much I hate playing the weak and fragile woman part, why are you being mean?” you wail, shoving him away and getting up. You quickly go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the duvet that was covering you mere seconds ago acting as your cloak.

“No, babe, I’m not-“

You snap your head back angrily, levelling him with a hostile glare. “Yes you are! You’re being mean when it’s your fault I’m like this!” You motion to your body.

“Actually, you begged for it, wife,” he shrugs, a corner of his mouth lifting. He doesn’t expect the punch you throw at his chest.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” you seethe, drinking your water and flying up the stairs. He sighs, rubbing his temples, wincing when he hears you sniffle again.

After ten minutes he knocks on your bedroom door- the same one you not-so-gracefully threw in his face.

“C’mon. Get out,” he grits out. Who knew dealing with a pregnant woman would strip him of the little patience he still has left?

“No. You value me less than ice cream.”

He sighs. “What can I do t’ make you forgive me?” He hears the soft pit pat of your sock-clad feet on the floor before the door creaks open. From the last few months, he'd say your mood swing should be finished by now.

You gently lower the handle, looking at his condescending espression. Then you sag your shoulder, gazing at the floor.

"You big crybaby. C'mere," he smirks, opening his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he pats your hair mockingly.

"I still want ice cream, though," you mumble.

"I'll go get it at the city right now if ya stop crying," he chuckles. He widens his eyes, realizing that... he caught himself too late.

You abruptly step back. He winces.

"And you'd leave me here all alone?! Why don't you love me anymore?!"

[fairqves]

୨୧ DON’T FORGET TO KISS ME

───── IN WHICH you prank the members and dodge their attempts at kissing you!

(🐰) ⟡ 𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘 — 𝒽yung line! enha & 𝑓! reader .. fluff, established relationship ♡ ◞ wc 0.2K each 𓂅 warnings : not proofread, skinship, kissing.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

LEE HEESEUNG

IN THE BEGINNING, heeseung simply thought you dodging his kisses was truly a pure coincidence.

the first time you turned away, he barely notices—the second time, he pauses for a second, but he shakes it off.

but by the third time? his eyes glow in realization, and a mischievous, knowing smirk creeps onto his face.

“oh? so that’s how you wanna play?”

you may love teasing him—but the one thing you didn’t take into consideration was that heeseung holds the title of being the biggest tease ever, so there’s no way he’s letting you get away with this.

the next time you try to dodge, he suddenly grabs your waist and spins you around so fast you barely process it before his lips crash against yours, breathless and dizzying. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶 ♡

“you thought you could escape my kisses?” he whispers against your lips with a grin, his voice smug as he kisses you again and again, deeper each time.

after that, heeseung literally makes it his mission to kiss you at the most unexpected times—ambushing you when you’re reaching for something, cornering you against the counter, sneaking up behind you and placing pecks along your jaw before you can escape.

“you started this babe,” he teases, pressing another smooch to your cheek, “so now you have to deal with the consequences.”

and those consequences? neverending kisses.

PARK JONGSEONG

THE FIRST TIME you dodge jay’s kiss, he barely reacts.

the second time, he tilts his head with confusion flickering in his eyes. and the third time, he freezes.

“…did you just—” he blinks, looking genuinely taken aback.

when you dodge him again, jay just stares at you as if you just broke his heart. his eyebrows furrow, his lips part slightly, and his entire face radiates hurt puppy energy.

“why are you running from me?” his voice is soft and whiny, almost pouty. you’re trying so hard not to laugh, but the moment you see his lips form into a pout, you nearly break.

he sighs dramatically, falling back onto the couch as if the weight of your rejection is too much to bear.

“oh, i see how it is,” he mutters, crossing his arms stubbornly. “i cook for you, i take care of you, and this is how you treat me?”

you’re about to tell him it’s just a joke, but before you can, he suddenly pulls you down onto his lap, wrapping his arms tight around your waist so you can’t escape.

his chin rests on your shoulder as he lets out another exaggerated sigh. “you owe me now,” he mumbles, his lips brushing your neck. “i expect at least ten kisses as payment.”

and when you finally do give in and kiss him? he hums in satisfaction, nuzzling into you like a content cat.

“…make it twenty.”

SIM JAEYUN

AT FIRST WHEN you dodge jake’s kiss, he literally pauses mid-way, blinking in confusion.

the second time, he lets out a small laugh in disbelief, as if he can’t fathom what’s happening.

the third time you dodge, his jaw drops.

“babe,” he whines, eyes wide with betrayal. “what did i do?!”

you try to act as if you have no idea what he’s talking about, but the moment he starts following you around the house like a sad puppy, you almost break.

every time you move, he moves. every time you sit, he sits closer.

after your fourth dodge, jake dramatically collapses onto the couch, spreading his arms out.

“this is it,” he groans. “just say you wanna break up.”

but when you giggle and dodge him again, something in him snaps. suddenly, he scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing.

“that’s it,” he announces, spinning you around as you shriek. “i tried to be nice.”

you’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe, and before you know it, he’s got you pinned to the couch, his face hovering inches over yours.

“you really thought you could get away with this, huh?” he teases, breathless from chasing you. then, before you can react, he peppers kisses everywhere—your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, every spot he missed earlier.

by the time he finally lets you go, you’re dizzy from all the affection.

“that’s what you get,” he says, grinning like a kid who just won a prize. “next time, just kiss me and save yourself the trouble.”

PARK SUNGHOON

THE VERY FIRST ATTEMPT, sunghoon doesn’t react. when you dodged, he simply raised an eyebrow. the second time, his lips twitch.

but by the third time? his entire expression goes blank.

“oh.” his voice is completely neutral, but you can tell he’s analyzing every past interaction, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

you expect him to fight for your affection like the videos you’ve seen of other couples, but instead…he just shrugs.

“okay then.”

and then he stops trying.

no more sneaky kisses. no more casual pecks. no more attempts to close the distance. instead, he just leans back and watches you with unreadable eyes.

at first, you’re fine. it was just a joke, after all. but after a while, the lack of affection gets to you. you’re used to sunghoon pulling you in by the waist, used to the intimacy between the two of you.

so when he sits on the other side of the couch, scrolling through his phone as if he doesn’t care, you start to panic.

“hoon…” you inch closer. he doesn’t react.

you poke his cheek. no reaction. finally, you swallow your pride and kiss his jaw softly. he immediately turns, raising an eyebrow. “oh? i thought you didn’t want kisses.”

you groan, hiding your face in his shoulder. “it was just a joke!”

he smirks. “oh, i know.” and then he decides to be a menace—he gets revenge. he ignores you for the rest of the day, dodging your kisses instead.

when you finally pin him down, desperate for his affection, he just grins. “guess you learned your lesson, huh?”

and of course—he kisses you senseless after that.

© FAIRQVES 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. i’m almost at 2000 followers idk what’s going on anymore. wdym 2000 people enjoy my works… i need to process this help 😦

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @chaeneu @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun

[wendichester]

⭒˚.⋆ sacrifice,

summary. you make a deal to save dean's life but he's not having it

pairing. dean winchester x reader ; angsty

wordcount. 558

The second Dean walks into the room, you know you’re screwed.

His eyes are wild, shoulders tight with rage, jaw clenched so hard you’re surprised his teeth don’t crack. He storms toward you, fists balled at his sides, and for a second, you think he might actually punch the wall.

“What the hell did you do?” His voice is raw, shaking.

You swallow hard, but there’s no point in pretending. He knows. He must’ve found out. Maybe from Sam, maybe from the demon itself—doesn’t matter. The secret’s out.

“I did what I had to,” you say, keeping your voice steady even as your heart hammers in your chest.

Dean laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just something broken, something desperate. “What you had to?” he echoes, stepping closer, eyes burning into you. “You made a deal for me.”

You cross your arms, trying to keep your ground. “You were dying, Dean. There was no other way.”

“There’s always another way!” His voice rises, shaking the walls of the motel room. His breathing is heavy, uneven. “Damn it, you think I’d let you sacrifice yourself for me? Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“Like you haven’t done the same?” you snap, voice sharp. “How many times have you thrown yourself in the line of fire for me? How many times have you died for Sam? For everyone? But the second I try to save you, suddenly it’s a problem?”

Dean’s nostrils flare. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I can’t—” His voice breaks, and he stops, squeezing his eyes shut like he can force the emotion out of his body. His hands are trembling. When he opens his eyes again, they’re glassy, rimmed red with something too painful to name. “Because I can’t lose you,” he says, voice quieter now, rough and raw and full of a kind of desperation that shatters you.

Your chest tightens, the weight of it all pressing down on you.

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” you whisper.

Dean exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Jesus, you really thought I wouldn’t? You think I wouldn’t tear apart the whole goddamn world trying to figure out why you were acting off?” He runs a hand down his face, and when he looks at you again, he’s a mess of anger and devastation. “How long do you have?”

You hesitate, and that alone is enough of an answer.

“Goddammit,” he chokes, turning away from you like he can’t bear to look. He presses his hands to his knees, breathing heavy.

“I didn’t do this for you to waste time feeling guilty,” you say, stepping closer, placing a hand on his arm. “I did this because I love you. Because you deserve to live.”

Dean turns back to you, and before you can say another word, his hands are on your face, cupping your cheeks like you might disappear if he lets go. His forehead presses against yours, and his breath is shaky, uneven.

“I’m getting you out of this,” he swears, voice trembling with determination. “I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care if I have to burn Hell to the ground. You’re not going to die for me.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t fight him.

Because if there’s one thing you know about Dean Winchester—it’s that when he makes a promise, he damn well keeps it.

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[greengoblinswifey]

Safe Haven—Hwang In-ho/Player 001 x Fem!Reader

summary— The violence of the games leave you pondering—you don’t want to die a virgin and you ask the one man who you trust and who’s always saved you for help. Based on this request.

warnings— age gap(reader is in her 20s, he’s in his early 50s) mentions of death, mentions of virginity, virgin!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, fluff, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

The first time you met Young-il, he saved your life.

The second time, he did it again.

By the third time, you stopped questioning it.

The games were a nightmare, a twisted sequence of death where survival felt more like a borrowed moment than a right. But through it all, Young-il had been there, his sharp eyes catching danger before you even saw it, whether it be saving you from other players or having your back in each game. You didn’t know why he did it, but you trusted him. In a place where trust was a gamble, you took the risk.

Tonight, the two of you sat in the corner of the dormitory, backs against the cold metal bunks. Most of the other players had settled into uneasy sleep, but you couldn’t, not with the weight of potential death pressing down upon you.

“You should get some rest,” Young-il murmured beside you.

You shook your head, fingers twisting in the hem of your thin uniform. “I can’t.”

Silence fell between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. You glanced at him, taking in the way the dim lighting flattered his chiseled face. He was older than you, more composed, like he had seen enough of the world to understand it in ways you never could.

And yet, he was still here. Still surviving. Still saving you.

“Young-il,” you said as you took a breath.

He turned his head slightly, watching you. You swallowed hard, fingers tightening. “I don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I’m scared, what if I die? What if I die without experiencing anything. I want you to take my virginity,” you said, out of breath.

Something flickered in his gaze—surprise, maybe, or something softer. But his face remained unreadable, his body still. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease.

Instead, he simply asked, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, heart hammering. “I trust you.”

That was the truth. You didn’t know him outside of the game, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew that if this was your last chance to experience something human, something real, you wanted it to be with him. He made you feel safe and cared for.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said after he studied you for a long moment.

No hesitation, just understanding, exactly what you needed in the moment.

He reached out, brushing his fingers along your jaw, his touch soft, as if waiting for you to change your mind. When you didn’t pull away, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to do this because you’re scared,” he murmured.

“I know,” you whispered. “I want to.”

From your lips, he kissed his way down, trailing soft touches along your jaw, your throat, the slope of your shoulder. Every kiss felt delicate, like he was memorizing you in pieces. His hands remained careful, never pushing, always waiting for your silent permission.

When he reached the hem of your uniform, he paused, meeting your gaze again. “I want you to tell me if anything feels wrong. If you want to stop.”

“I will,” you nodded, your breath shaky.

Slowly, he peeled away the thin fabric, revealing your naked body to the cool air. But there was no hunger in his gaze, no rush. Just admiration.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your waist, his touch sending warmth through your pussy. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring it, making sure you felt how much this meant—not just to you, but to him too.

His hands skimmed over every inch of you, his lips following, never leaving a space untouched. And when he moved lower, when he pressed one last kiss to your stomach, his voice was a quiet promise against your skin.

“I’ll take care of you, angel.”

He grabbed under your thighs, making your legs sit on his shoulders before he delved into the exquisite cuisine before him that was your wet pussy. “You taste amazing,” he murmured, slipping a finger inside your tight hole.

Your fingers tangled in his dark hair as his efforts sped up and your cheeks heated as you heard the faint sound of your pussy wet and squelching. You prayed none of the other players could hear.

“T-that feels so good,” you moaned, softly.

Young-il moaned into your pussy as his tongue flicked your clit, the vibrations making you squirm under his touch. He ferociously sucked and flicked your clit with his tongue before slipping in another finger making you feel full and writhe in the feeling of your g spot being constantly toyed with. You clenched tightly around his fingers, slapping a hand over your mouth to contain your moans.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, staring up at you.

You complied with his request, your hands grasping his dark hair he had as he held you down and continued eating your pussy through your high. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your mind became foggy and all you could think about was how good he made you feel.

After you caught your breath, he kissed you from your pussy, to your stomach, up your chest, sucking on your breasts then your cheeks, your lips then to your forehead, muttering praises in between. “So beautiful, angel. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

He pulled his bottoms down slowly, his hard cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen and you bit your lip seeing the large package he carried.

“Oh, wow,” you gasped, softly, staring at how hard, long and thick he was. If his fingers could barely fit, how would that? It looked like he would tear you apart.

“It’s okay baby, don’t be intimidated,” his deep voice said, “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

He pumped his cock a few times, spreading the pre cum on his glistening head before hovering above you, his eyes on yours as he used it to rub all over your entrance. You moaned his name softly as he teased you, your body shuddering as he began slapping the tip on your clit.

“I’m about to start, it might be a bit uncomfortable at first. If it hurts, say the word and I’ll stop,” he muttered, quietly.

You nodded slowly and took his time inside you, eyes locked with yours, watching every reaction, every flicker of feeling that crossed your face. “You’re perfect, made just for me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. His kisses trailed along your neck and shoulders each one drawing soft, involuntary moans from you.

As he went inside you, inch by inch, your nails dug into his back, his big cock stretching you by the second. You couldn’t even speak, feeling the wind knocked out of you as he was half way in, pushing past the barrier inside your pussy.

“Are you okay, angel?” he asked, ceasing movement inside you.

You nodded frantically, jaw agape.

He reached between your bodies, rubbing slow circles on your clit as he began thrusting slowly. He hissed in pleasure as your tight pussy gripped his dick, each time he went in and the back out, he was soaked in your juices.

“So wet for me. Absolutely perfect,” he groaned.

He gave you time to adjust, to feel every moment as his hold on you tightened and when you whispered, barely louder than a breath, asking him to “go deeper”, his control wavered, and a new depth of intensity overtook him. His grip on you tightened as his strokes deepened, and his eyes darkened with a desire that matched your own.

You bit your lip, containing your moans as you felt him practically in your guts and he was only half way in. Soft praises slipped from him in between breaths, the words laced with emotion as he murmured, “You feel incredible, I don’t want this to end.” You didn’t want it to end either. Each whispered word made you feel seen, safe, protected, and deeply wanted, it was exactly why you chose him.

He stared into your eyes as he hovered above you, his voice a soothing murmur against your neck as he urged, “Cum for me angel, don’t worry, I’ve got you.” As your orgasm hit you like a truck, you felt the wave of warmth and release, the feeling having you in the clouds as though you were high on ecstasy, his name slipping from your lips in soft, whispers. Your entire body convulsed and his strokes slowed as he whispered gentle praises, his touch filled with tenderness.

As he watched you come down from cloud nine, his gaze softened. “You took me so well, angel. I’m so proud of you.” Even though he could see the tiredness in your eyes, the spark in his hadn’t dimmed. With a gentle shift, he turned you onto your stomach, drawing your ass up to him. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together, as he moved again, pulling you back on his cock, each slow thrust reassuring you that he wasn’t done cherishing you yet.

Holding you close, he thrusted slowly at first, ensuring you felt every throb of his cock and every gentle movement of his cock dragging along your walls.

“You’re perfect, my beautiful girl,” he murmured. When you let out a soft gasp, he grinned, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “You look so sexy with your ass in the air,” he said, his voice low. “Completely mine.”

You felt him lean closer, his lips beside your ear as he whispered, “I need you to cum on my cock again.” His hand drifted to your waist, holding you steady as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you said, overstimulation taking precedence.

He tilted chin to the side so you could look back at him, “You can do it, angel. Be a good girl for me.” His words were all the encouragement you needed, and as you gave in, squirting on his cock, his own quiet moans echoed with yours.

You clenched tightly around his cock lodged inside your pussy and it triggered his own intense orgasm. He bit down gently on your shoulder, thrusting slowly as ropes of his hot load filled you to the brim. “That’s it, take my cum. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m yours, Young-il,” you moaned softly, your body shaking from the intensity of it all.

Your heartbeat, once wild and frantic, had settled into something calmer. You lay there, still catching your breath, and Young-il hadn’t moved, not away from you, at least as he emptied his cum inside you.

Slowly, he pulled out, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your body, reminding you that you were safe with him. You winced slightly at the sudden emptiness, and his eyes flickered with concern.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned.

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “No,” you whispered. “It was perfect.”

His expression softened, relief washing over his face. He reached for his shirt, and used it to clean you up carefully.

“You did so well,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your knee, then your hip, then your abdomen. “Took me so perfectly. You’re beautiful.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and you bit your lip, watching him as he continued to worship you in the quietest, sweetest ways.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed another kiss to your collarbone.

He stilled at that, lifting his head so you could see the way his gaze softened. “No need to thank me,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re mine.” A pause, filled with nothing but warmth. “And you deserve to be cherished.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Before you could respond, he pulled you into him, wrapping you in his arms, tucking you against his. His lips pressed against your temple, then your forehead, then your nose. Sweet, lingering kisses.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised. “No matter what.”

You sighed, melting into him, feeling safer than you had in weeks. His fingers traced along your spine in slow, soothing patterns, his presence lulling you into something close to peace.

“You’re everything,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your lips before resting his chin atop your head. “And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And with his arms around you, holding you like you were something precious, something worth protecting, you believed him.

[syluriar]

please...help me - sylus x mc!reader. part 1

sypnosis: you call sylus to escape caleb.

a/n: i know i'm not the only one who thought this, a lot of us sylus girlies wanted to call out man and get him our of sjyhaven ASAP. so i wrote this little fic for that, and as you can tell by the title this is just part 1. ofc that means there'll be a part 2, maybe a part 3??? let's wait and see :)

warning: caleb being possessive (yandere??). mc (you) feeling uncomfortable and scared of caleb. hurt and some comfort by sylus (i luv you<3 ). this is rushed and like all my fics, have no grammer check.

word count: 990

RING RING

The vibration of the phone rang loudly through the bathroom, the one place Caleb grants you privacy. More than one you were thankful that he wasn’t here, his duty calling him out to do some work, work that you don’t question anymore, exactly how he likes it.

“I’ll be back soon, Pip-squeak,” He said with a tone meaning for warmth, but you feel the opposite, especially when he looks at you with a smile, the one you remember from your childhood, but it’s not the same anymore. 

“Don’t cause any ruckus, ok? We don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

You shudder at the memory, the way his hand had gripped your wrist and dragged you to your bedroom and placed you not so gently on your bed, scolding you not following his orders and locked you in. He would only allow you to come out for food and he would watch you the whole time you ate, sending shivers of fear down your spine the more it went on. It lasted for two weeks, after that you had a bit more freedom, but every night he would announce it was time for you to sleep and lock you in the bedroom, the next would be the same.

And you hated it. You hated how different he was, how much he had changed since you last saw him. Where was the Caleb that joked around with you? The one that always picked you up when you were feeling down? The one that would wipe away your tears and hold you close? 

Where’s one where you felt safe with? 

Gone. He was all gone, and he scared you. You couldn’t stay here any longer, to try and get the old Caleb back. You had enough of being ordered around and being scared. 

RING RING

Despite Caleb’s watchful eye you managed to snag a new phone as he confiscated yours, checking though all your data to make sure you couldn’t leave, Luckily you thought he would do that and got rid of anything that would get you into trouble; contacts, messages and pictures in your camera roll. So far he hasn’t commented on anything which you pat yourself on the back for.

Another thing your proud of is remembering a phone number, just one that you know would get you out of here.

RING RING

“Please pick up…” You whispered desperately. You have called the number twice now, and you hope people are right when people say third time's the charm, because you needed as much luck as possible right now.

RING RING - 

“I must say your persistence to get hold of me is both annoying and -”

“Sylus!” You couldn’t hold back the happiness as you heard his voice, it had been so long since you last heard it.

“...Is that you, sweetie?”

“It is.” You answer, the endearing name making you blush instantly. 

“Who’s phone are you calling on? Did you get a new phone and not tell me?”

“I’ll tell you that later but I need you to listen to me.” Time was of the essence, and you didn’t want to waste any of it. “I need you to track this phone and come help me.”

“Help you?” His tone held confusion. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”

“Don’t ask. I just need you to come to Skyhaven and get me out of here, fast.” You spoke hastily, you might have sounded desperate, but right now you don’t care. 

“You sound weird, kitten. Are you alright?”

Trust him to take notice. “Please, Sylus. I can’t get out of here and I’m….” You take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill. “I’m scared.”

His answer was instant. “I’m coming, sweetie. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out in no time.”

It’s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders, your heart is lighter and a smile graces your lips. “Thank you. Please hurry Sylus, I don’t like it here.”

“I can tell, sweetie. I’ll destroy everything if it means getting you out.”

“Maybe don’t go that far, there are innocent people here.”

“The ones that hold you against your will are nowhere near innocent.”

You grimace as you think about Caleb, a small piece of you feeling guilty for this, but you needed to get out of here, and if that meant hurting Caleb to escape…then so be it.

Looking at the time, you realise you’ve been left on your own for a while, and Calen would be due back soon. The last thing you wanted was for him to find you like this. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later?”

“As soon as possible, sweetie. I’ve been making arrangements since you first said you needed my help.”

You end the call quickly and stash within your period products, you knew that Caleb never came in your bathroom, but just in case he changed his mind, at least you knew he wouldn’t search through them.

But now your body is full of nerves, you can’t believe you managed to get through to Sylus, even more so that he’s coming to get you. You just have to wait and keep playing Caleb’s game till he comes, which he assured you will be as soon as possible. In Sylus’ language, that could be within a few minutes to an hour. You hope it’s the first option, but you were determined to wait if that’s what it took.

Before leaving the bathroom you remind yourself to go back to your usual personality that Caleb likes, if he see’s any of your happiness he’ll question it, and you don’t know how long you can lie and fake it for. 

So you lower your excitement, lose your smile and take a few deep breaths to calm your beating heart. Once your assured that you’ve gone back to the obedience look, you open the bathroom door - 

“Have a nice phone call, Pip-squeak?”

[elysianightsss]

AAAHHHHH! HI! So sorry to bother you, but I read the neurodivergent reader x 141 and AHHHHH I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING, DROOLING, CHEWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE they wont let me out

i have a little idea… how would poly 141 react when they find out your job isnt this cute barista or something along those lines, but just a regular stocking associate or a cashier for some huge corporation. like, they know you work. and every time you leave, they see you die a little on the inside from having to go to *insert shitty job*. They just didnt know that you were working there and now they are trying whatever they can to convince you to quote your job and stay home… i know i would rather stay home and take care of them than going to my job…

Oh anon I love your brain! As someone who used to be a cashier before I got my fucking wonderful, literally no joke amazing office job, I fuck with this. I’m writing them as roommates tho don’t know why just deal with it😘

It starts off with a debate over what time you get up in the mornings given how tired you seemed today. But then they realise, they don’t even know what you do for work. Johnny predicts that you’re one of those cute baristas in sweet little aprons with how good the flavoured coffees you make him in the morning when he’s back from his run, are.

Kyle can’t seem to fathom you’re not the office sweetheart he seems to picture you as. Though you’d been living with them for almost over a year now, the guys were gone before you left for work and back long after you arrived home. Still he had it in his head the whole time that you were putting on tight pencil skirts and heels in the morning before going off to work. Something he argues tooth and nail with Johnny about.

John scoffs hearing the guys argue, usually keeping out of it, but this time he can’t help himself when he interjects with, “Yer both chattin shit. She’s obviously a baker with those mouth watering pastries she makes us.” Now that opens up the argument further.

Simon is the only one who doesn’t speculate, instead he walks right up to you on a Sunday night as the guys are all readying themselves for bed and you’re making your lunch for tomorrow. “Luv.” He calls, you glance at him, eyes honing in on the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Dangerous, dangerous man.

Looking back to the fruit you were slicing, you hum in acknowledgment, “Wot’s ya job?”

You bite back the grin that fights to split your face in two, turning to him you see he visibly softens at your little smile, “I’m a cashier.” You answer, ears tinging red a little. In all honesty you were embarrassed that you worked for one of those big corporations. The dreams you had once but were never able to reach are like a damp on your heart. Like a festering mould that only grows in the worst conditions.

Sometimes you enjoy the people, there are some nice ones that overcome the bad interactions. But everyday you pull on the trousers and trainers, and that itchy uniform top, you wish that a snowstorm would lock you inside the house. You pray to receive a call telling you not to come in due to a fire that started in the bakery. Your heart aches to be told you’re allowed to go home early even if you won’t be paid as much at the end of the month.

Simon hadn’t said much after you told him, his eyes darkened a little when he asked if you enjoyed it and you had answered swiftly and without hesitation; no.

Then suddenly, the guys are leaving for work a little later in the morning. The same time as you. John offering you a lift to work, Johnny making you coffee instead of the other way around, Kyle giving you one of his soft jackets so at least your arms will be comfortable even if your torso is covered in that itchy material.

Simon is the one who places his hand on your forehead and tuts beneath his black surgical mask. You scoff when Simon says he doesn’t think you should go in today, “I feel fine.” You counter with a frown, pushing his big paw away and shoving your feet into the uncomfortable trainers.

John stares down at them like they’ve offended him personally, “You own comfier shoes lass.” Johnny comments and Kyle nods in agreement.

“I have to wear them.” You say quietly wondering why they suddenly have such an interest in your work attire. Have to. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The guys didn’t think you should have to do anything.

The weekends were a little weird too. You would usually cook them meals and sweet pastries or cakes with how hard they worked, they deserved nothing less. But Johnny is ushering you away from the kitchen when you walk past the dining table and the marble counter island to make him a coffee.

John says no thank you in the most strained way you’ve ever heard it when you offer to make him a sweet treat. He deflates even further into the sofa when you look offended at his decline. Kyle pulls you close to him on the other side of the couch, putting an arm around you, he continues reading his book but it’s out loud this time.

You sigh snuggling close to him, head on his shoulder when Simon brings over one of the many plushies you’d left on the floor of the lounge, again, and one of the many soft blankets you’d unnecessarily bought for the house. Maybe you could get used to this, you thought as your eyes started to blink slower. It had been a really long week, with lots of assholes. A week of sitting in that uncomfortable chair had done a number on your back too.

You’re just lucky that you’d said from the very beginning that you won’t work weekends, at least you could have those to yourself. The guys became even more attentive, not that they weren’t before, but it increased tenfold. And you wondered why.

Why Kyle is packing you a lunch box everyday now. Why Johnny is cuddling up to you at night just so you sleep warmer, better. Why John is willing to race away from very important paperwork to sit outside the big supermarket you worked at just so you didn’t have to take the bus home. Why Simon keeps buying you lush smelling soaps, bath salts and those sparkly bathbombs he knows you love, you have so many now you don’t know what to do with them. Even when you ask him to stop, he shakes his head and grunts out, “Baths are good for sore muscles.” And that’s all you get.

You just want to know why, what brought all of this on. And most of all why it all suddenly stops.

Almost like a calculated mission, like a big discussion had happened before hand. All of it stopped. They had left long before you got up for work, no lunch ready to go, no soft jacket waiting by the door, no cuddle reading sessions on the weekend, no more new bath stuff, no more lifts and an expectant look in John’s eyes when it gets to dinner time.

They’d done a total three sixty. Like they wanted to show you how good it could be with their help, how much easier life could be, going to work could be, only just to take it all away.

That’s exactly what their plan had been, Simon’s idea mostly with little suggestions made by the rest of them. They all executed it thoroughly, now all that’s left for them is to compete the final step.

“Doll I think you should quit your job.” John goes first, you frown excessively. What the hell is he talking about, you think.

“Have you gone mad?” You huff. John knows you’re annoyed with them, hell they all know you’re angry by their actions. But it’s a necessary evil.

“Not yet I don’t think,” John jokes and feels a little lighter when the corner of your lip quirks up slightly, “I am serious.” He says simply, his blue eyes burning into you before he walks away. You think it so odd, strange that he says that out of the blue.

And then Kyle says it too. Coming into your room with the same baby Yoda squishmallow Simon had placed in your lap two weeks ago, and the same blanket. He gestures towards your bed, it’s subtle but you nod. Failing to hide his grin, Kyle gets snuggled up under the blanket with you, your arms wrapped around the plushie.

He’s halfway through the book, hand brushing through your hair scratching at your scalp deliciously when he broaches the subject, “Bun?” You scrunch up your nose, blinking your eyes open to look at him accusingly. The sight makes him chuckle softly, you’re screaming with your eyes, how dare you make me open my eyes and be fully conscious.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, something he tells himself later was just to butter you up before talking. It wasn’t.

“I don’t think you should go to work anymore.” He says simply, with ease, his voice calm.

“What?” You blink rapidly waking yourself up fully to actually take in what he just said.

“Just something to think about bunny.” He shrugs and goes back to reading with that damn lulling voice. You don’t stop him, don’t interrupt but your mind is swirling the same way it had the day before when John had said something similar.

Johnny is not so tactful, shovelling his breakfast in his mouth. Half masticated bacon and scrambled eggs rolling around in his wide open trap, when he spits out the words. “Quit yer job lass, no one wants to be stackin shelves and scannin someone else’s shit all day.” He scoffs washing his food down with the caramel flavoured coffee you made him five minutes ago. He’s quick to put the plate in the sink and place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His head bend slightly, eyes level with you, “Think about it pet.” He pats your cheek lightly and earns a much more harsh smack to the back of his head by Kyle on the way out of the house.

And finally Simon…well Simon…um Simon just did what he thought was best, what he thought was necessary, what he thought would get you to comply the quickest…

You pant harshly, fingers gripping onto the light bronde hair painfully hard, yanking with each stripe Simon licked up your cunt. You barely noticed John walking passed your open bedroom door with a smirk, Simon had his face buried so deep in your pussy it was hard to think, hard to conjure up your own name let alone open your eyes and catch Kyle and Johnny pushing your door open a little wider and watching for a moment before Kyle drags Johnny away.

Simon’s broken too many times to fix, crooked nose brushed against your clit wonderfully, tongue fucking into your quivering hole making you buck your hips desperate for the release he’d been denying you for around twenty minutes now.

“Say it.” Simon cooed, encouraging you gently. Shaking your head, teeth biting down on your lip, holding on as tightly to your words as you held onto Simon.

Simon grips your jaw in his big paw, a sharp look comes across his features as though he’s about to scold you when you meet his gaze, thumb rubbing your clit in tight, rough circles to keep the stimulation enough, to keep you there on the edge so he has you right where he wants you.

“Say it and you can cum.” He promises, your eyes widen, stinging harshly with their own promise of tears should you keep this up.

“b-but-“

“No buts. We’ll take of everything sweetheart, oll ya afta to do is write the resignation letter, then stay here as our pretty little housewife.” He kissed your clit before moving his thumb back in its place, circling slower this time. You gasp, a broken sob wrenching itself from your chest as your orgasm starts to slip away with the lack of stimulation.

“Please! Please Si! I-“

“Oll ya afta do is say it. Quit, find yourself a cute hobby, cook and clean for us a little. Oll ya afta do is say yes and I’ll let ya cum luv.” He grins evilly when you whine, blowing on your cunt before licking a hard long stripe from your puckered asshole to your swollen, throbbing clit.

“yes! please yes I’ll quit just pl-“

Simon doesn’t let you finish your plea, devouring your pussy like a man starved. He licks, sucks, and flicks your clit, slipping his thick fingers inside your clenching, empty hole thrusting them in and out doing his best to match the pace he set with his tongue on your clit.

You cum hard, untamed. Back arching uncomfortably, limbs shaking rigorously and Simon slurps up everything you give him. You lay there trying to catch your breath when Simon crawls up your body to hover over you. His eyes meet yours when he grins, “Good girl. Now why don’t we get started on that resignation letter hmm.” It wasn’t a question.

Safe to say you happily quit your job.

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 12

Summary: Wanda deals with the aftermath of your breakup.

A/N: This chapter is focused on Wanda. Big thanks to @a-cat-on-titan for an idea that made it on a part of the fic :)

Aint no mountain high enough

Ain’t no valley low enough

“Ain’t no river wiiideee enoough” Wanda dances around the kitchen, singing.

It’s never quiet around the house. There’s always music, or drilling or hammering. Because she’s taken into making (badly built) furniture. And pottery. And yoga.

To anyone else, it may seem like Wanda’s living her best life.

But Pietro’s not just anyone.

His sister is running away from her feelings, keeping herself busy just so she doesn’t have time to miss you.

“Oh, morning. Want anything for breakfast?”

“I’ll make something later, thank you” he refuses the offer, feeling better and finding his movements to be more confident after another month in physical therapuy. “How did you sleep?”

“Children, we’re late for school!” Wanda ignores him. That’s the one thing she can’t do. Sleep. She’ll rest for a few hours, but as soon as everyone’s asleep, Wanda gets too anxious. Her only solution is to put on a pair of headphones and paint or do pottery or anything else until it’s 3 am and she’s too tired to think.

Or dream.

“Billy, where is your soccer bag? You boys have practice after school!” Wanda says, trying to look for it. Kids, always misplacing everything.

“I don’t wanna go to soccer anymore! I already told you” he protests. Pietro looks up, prepared for another argument.

It’s been happening since you left.

“Sweetheart, you love soccer!”

“No, I don’t! I only liked it because Y/N helped me practice during the weekends and it was fun. I’m not going anymore”

With that, he leaves the house and heads straight to the car, slamming the door. Wanda knows he’ll be crying on the way to school and will refuse to hug her goodbye, the same way he’s done every day for the past month.

“Tommy, grab your stuff” the woman says, trying to pretend everything’s fine.

Unfortunately for her, the twins don’t let her pretend, showing how hurt they are and how much they miss you.

It’s just a phase.

“I have a meeting with Laura, I’ll come back later” she says goodbye to Pietro, hoping the car ride can be a bit better.

“Ok” is all he says, frowning.

There’s only one way to fix this. He just hopes his sister will find a way to forgive him after finding out what he did.

—

Laura is waiting with coffee and some biscuits. She’s always looking at Wanda anxiously, waiting for the moment that everything will finally collapse and she’ll feel all the things she’s avoiding.

So far, nothing.

“Hey! Oh, the boys are being so difficult lately. How did you manage with Cooper?” Wanda always walks in with a monologue ready, which never gives Laura the chance to ask her how she’s doing.

“I don’t know. I mean I don’t think that was a difficult age for him” she grimaces, thinking whether or not to tell Wanda this has nothing to do with age, and everything to do with her breakup.

“Is this the book? Oh my God, it looks amazing!” she changes the topic, knowing where the conversation is headed. As she opens to read the first pages, her smile fades. “Well, we need to get rid of that”

That as in, the dedication. The words that were written for you. Because you helped with the book, with taking care of the kids, with encouraging Wanda.

This was supposed to be a gift for you. Like the first book Wanda ever wrote, and she dedicated to the twins. And so on with every one of her family members.

You were the last piece of the puzzle. And she had hoped that someday she’d dedicate the next one to a baby girl. A daughter that looked just like you.

“Wanda…” Laura says, noticing the cracks in her friend’s perfect facade.

“Anyway! I have to go do some grocery shopping. I’m making coq au vin tonight”

“Do the kids eat that?”

“Sure!”

Of course they don’t. But chicken is too fast and she needs to be distracted and have a lot of dishes to clean and keep her mind occupied.

“Well, this is a first prototype. Once I speak with the publishing company we’ll get a date for the release” Laura says. “Hey, are you sure you’re ok?”

“Never been better” Wanda lies. “See you later, Laura”

Of course, the trip to the grocery store is not enough to calm her, not when there’s a woman wearing scrubs, looking exhausted and trying to figure out which baking powder is better.

“This one’s good if you want to bake cookies” she says, finding it hard to look away. “Sorry, you didn’t ask”

“No, that’s fine. Appreciate it” the woman nods, grabbing the one Wanda suggested and walking to another woman that is also wearing scrubs. They chat as they walk to the register.

Now Wanda regrets talking to them. What if they used to work with you? What if they tell everyone they saw her and she was being a weirdo talking to them first?

Worried about running into someone else, she hurries up with the shopping, and practically sprints to her car.

It takes her a few minutes to calm down. She forgets about the radio, until it begins playing.

One of your songs.

Wanda doesn’t have time to change the station, getting a call. She doesn’t really notice who it’s from, wishing nothing more than to disappear.

“Miss Maximoff? This is Tommy’s teacher”

Ok, that will distract her for sure.

“Is he ok? Are he and Billy…?”

“We’re gonna need you to come to the principal’s office, please”

—

A fight.

His sweet, wonderful boy getting into a fight. Well, that was a lie. And no one was going to mess with Wanda’s children.

“Sweetheart?” she approaches her boy, sitting outside the Principal’s office. His clothes are dirty, and his hair is full of weeds. “Who did this to you?”

“Miss Maximoff” Principal Coleman says, ushering her inside. “Please, sit down. I know this is pretty much new to you. Your kids have good grades, the teachers love them… but I’m sorry to tell you Tommy got into a fight today”

“Oh, but… he is the sweetest kid. I just can’t imagine him hurting anyone”

“Well, according to Daniel, Tommy was the one who started it” the Principal says, leaning back in her chair.

“Ok, why don’t we ask Tommy about it? Hear his side of the story”

“I already did but if you’d like to, be my guest” the woman says, standing up to open the door for Tommy. “Go on, tell your mom what you told me”

“I started the fight” Tommy mutters, looking at his feet. “I’m sorry”

“Are you ok? And Daniel?”

“Daniel only got a scratch on his arm. Look, this is a first time incident and Daniel’s parents were very understanding, so I’ll let you take the kids home and figure this out. But if it happens again…”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Principal Coleman. And you said, to take both kids?”

“Yeah, Billy’s pretty upset about it” the Principal says, opening the door for them. “He’s at the library waiting for you”

Wanda walks next to her son, her mind racing. This has never happened, there must a logical explanation. She tries to keep her cool, but when she sees Billy sitting at the library, pulling nervously at his hair, she feels like a girl again, lost and confused.

She doesn’t know what to do or how to make things better.

“Billy, let’s go home” she says, waiting for him to walk out. The boy avoids her eyes, rushing past them and running straight to the exit.

“Mom” Tommy says, but she’s too overwhelmed.

“Later, Tommy”

The ride home is silent. Wanda doesn’t even play music, holding on to the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

You’d know what to do to make it better.

But now you’re gone.

She barely has time to park before Billy runs out of the car, opening the door and going upstairs.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Wanda says, still in the driver’s seat. Tommy looks away, shrugging his shoulders.

“Daniel was mean”

“That’s not an excuse to hit someone, you know better than that, Tommy” she scolds him. “You’re grounded, go to your room. We’ll talk about this later”

He steps out, his head down. Wanda is waiting for him to walk inside the house when she sees a woman with short, gray hair inspecting her garden.

“Hello. Can I help you?” Wanda says, clearly on edge. She’s not in the mood for any more surprises today.

And as the woman turns around, her jaw drops.

“Mom!”

“Hello, dear”

“Grandma!” Tommy runs back to her. “It’s you!”

“Oh, my! Look at you, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you! You’re so tall” the woman says, hugging her grandson. “Where’s your brother? Did you leave school early?”

“Uh… let’s all get inside. Tommy, tell your brother to come back down, please” Wanda interrupts, knowing she’ll get unwanted advice about parenting as soon as her mother knows what happened at school today. “So, how… I mean when…”

“Mama, I hope your flight was good” Pietro walks up to the door, wrapping his mother in a hug.

“You knew she was coming” Wanda says, feeling her blood boiling.

That little Mama’s boy.

“Don’t make a fuss, Wanda” their mother scolds. “I’m just here to help. And I won’t be staying in your house, your neighbor rents a room down the street. Mrs. Davies, you probably know her”

“Yeah, of course I do” she answers, but her mother is already walking inside, inspecting Pietro.

“Now, how’s recovery? You look so thin, bratan. Oh! You got a dog!” the woman exclaims, Sparky running around her.

This is so not how she expected her day to go at all.

—

Wanda’s not allowed in the kitchen while her mother cooks, and she can’t clean either because that was the first thing Ekaterina Maximoff did as soon as she set foot in the house.

The list of things she can do to get distracted is drastically reduced, so she locks herself in her study, pretending to sketch.

But all she can think about is you.

This is exactly why she doesn’t like to have free time. The memories of how you filled every part of the house with laughter and love are just waiting around the corner to remind Wanda how badly she messed up.

She decides to check on the twins, who should be done with their homework around this time.

But only Billy’s in his bed, playing with a Rubik’s cube you gave him.

“Hey” Wanda says, as she opens the door. “Mind if I sit?”

Billy just shrugs his shoulders, eyes focused on the different colors of the puzzle.

“Wanna tell me what happened in school? Did Tommy really start the fight?”

Billy sighs, and then looks up.

“Daniel said some mean things. Like…”

“Like… sweetheart, you can tell me anything, I promise. I just want to understand what happened” Wanda reassures him, squeezing his hand.

“Daniel said he heard his dad talking about you and Y/N. How it wasn’t right that you were with her and that he was happy she was gone. And then… he said maybe now that Y/N wasn’t around I…” Billy covers his eyes, trying to hide the fact he’s crying.

“Come here” Wanda comforts him, her heart breaking. She’s sorry to say this, but she doesn’t blame Tommy for getting into a fight with Daniel, not after he said all those horrible things.

“He said that now that Y/N’s gone I was going to stop being a weirdo”

“My sweet boy, I am so sorry” Wanda says, kissing the top of his head. “What Daniel said is not ok and his father should teach him better. I promise you I will talk to him about it”

“Don’t be mad at Tommy, he was just upset” Billy asks, wiping the tears. “He misses Y/N and so do I”

“It’s ok” Wanda hugs her baby boy, rubbing his back in a soothing motion. She feels Billy relax against her, hugging her like he used to do before you left.

Correction.

Before Wanda kicked you out.

“Do you miss her?” he asks, his voice small. He knows his mother doesn’t want to talk about you. It upsets her too much.

“Of course I do”

“It’s just… it feels like you don’t care, Mama. Like you don’t even remember her at all” Billy says, crying more.

“I know. I’m not the best at this, darling. I guess I just miss her so much it hurts, and I rather not think about it at all. It’s a silly thing grown ups do”

“Do you know if she’s ok?”

“I think so. I hope so”

“Do you think she misses us too?”

“I’m sure she misses you and Tommy and Sparky”

Truth is, Wanda isn’t sure you have any love left for her. Not enough to miss her, at least.

—

The food tastes like home. Like the summers in the country side, or the cold days of winter where Wanda played with Pietro until Mama called them home for a dinner of warm soup and bread.

“Delicious” Pietro comments after the first bite and Wanda nods.

“I can never get the sauce for the Chkmeruli right” Wanda says, trying to figure out the missing ingredient. “Your is so much better, just like grandma’s”

“I’ll teach you how to get it right” Ekaterina promises. “The secret is in the amount of ingredients. And something that we’re not telling anyone else”

“Alright” Wanda nods.

“Now, boys. Tell me all about school. And your hobbies. Do you play videogames?”

Wanda watches her family interact, laughing at certain things, and looking at her mother with fascination.

There’s a certain guilt that takes over when she understands she wasted three years of her life for something that could have been solved with an honest conversation.

One day, her mother will be gone and she’ll regret not having spent more time with her.

There’s also another regret in the back of her mind.

She wishes you had met her mother.

“Excuse me for a moment” she says, standing up from the table and walking to the bathroom. She covers her mouth to stop from sobbing, but there are tears in her eyes and a weight in her stomach that doesn’t let her sleep or eat or live.

Wanda fucked up so badly and now she’ll never see you again.

“Oh, God” she says, trying to breath, and fix her makeup. She can’t let the boys see her like this.

It’s been an overwhelming day, that’s all.

I’m fine.

“Is everyone done? I’m cleaning the kitchen” she says as soon as she comes back, picking up the plates and rushing past her family.

The cleaning keeps her hands busy and mind at ease, but she's still humming a song, just to focus on something that isn’t those awful thoughts she just had.

“I’m sorry” Pietro says, walking with the help of his cane. “I know it feels like an ambush, and I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but you’re not ok. The kids are always fighting with you, you do everything but talk about what happened and Y/N’s stuff are still in the garage. Maybe… fixing things with Mama can give you some perspective. I don’t know. I’m a burden most of the time, without being able to walk or do more around here. I just wanted to help”

Wanda keeps cleaning, never turning around to ackowledge her brother. He sighs, scratching the back of his head and turning to leave the kitchen.

“You’ll never be a burden, Pietro” is all Wanda says, finally turning to look at him. He smiles.

“Try to get some rest”

“You too”

“Oh, and Daniel definitely deserved to get his ass kicked”

“I agree” Wanda laughs. “Don’t tell the kids, though”

Pietro makes a motion, as if sealing his lips.

Their mom walks to hug him, saying goodbye for the day.

“You can sleep in my room, I can take the couch” Wanda offers.

“None of that. Mrs. Davies is excited over her very first guest and I won’t be the one to disappoint that sweet woman. Get some rest. Tomorrow I’m making borsch”

“You don’t have to cook, I can handle it”

“Of course I have to. Your brother needs to gain some weight!” the woman says, kissing her daughter in both cheeks. She says something in Sokovian about her children eating all that American food, walking out to Mrs. Davies house.

Wanda’s done with cleaning, and she goes upstairs to say goodnight to the kids.

“Hey. You’re not grounded. Ok?” Wanda says when Billy falls asleep, looking at Tommy. “Thank you for looking after your brother”

“I am older by ten minutes” he says, like Pietro always does. Wanda smiles, kissing his forehead.

“Sleep well, sweet boy”

And as she walks to her room, that feels so empty ever since that night one month ago, Wanda’s not sure how long she can handle pretending that one day, your abscence won’t hurt as much.

—

She could fix this.

You always fixed things.

Wanda had gotten the message. You disappeared, no calls or texts, not even to let her know where you were staying.

And when she tried to reach out, you never answered.

But now she was worried and scared, and most of all, sorry for the things she had said to you.

Wanda needed to apologize, to tell you how much she loved you.

But even if that was the only thing on her mind, she was standing outside the hospital, trying to gather the courage to come in.

“Wanda” a voice said behind her. Although it was familiar, Wanda was disappointed when she turned around and saw Carol Danvers.

“Hey… I was just… I was looking for Y/N”

“Oh. Uh… you haven’t heard?” Carol stumbled with her words, caught completely off guard.

“Heard what? Is Y/N ok?” Wanda’s heart began to race… maybe you were injured and it was exactly why you hadn’t replied to any of her messages, or answered the phone when she called.

“Yeah, uh… oh, crap” Carol looked over Wanda’s shoulder. “If I were you I’d run back to my car”

“What?” Wanda turned around, her eyes meeting Darcy’s.

“You!” the brunette barked, walking faster. “You’re about to find out why I got banned from lacrosse in college, Maximoff”

“Let’s calm down” Carol asked, stepping between the two of them.

“No! I will not calm down. I hope you’re proud of yourself, Wanda. You told Y/N everything she’s always been afraid of hearing. That you can’t trust her or the 'we’ll be better without you', fucking fantastic, really!”

“Darcy, come on, we should get back inside” Carol said, pleading with Maria to help her. But Darcy was not done.

“All this bullshit of making her move in with you and be a family for what? To kick her out just because you had a shitty day? Because she was saving a life?”

“I just… I know I screwed up, but if I could just talk to her…”

“Well, for that you’d have to get on a plane to Boston. Because Y/N quit” Darcy said, amused at Wanda’s shocked expression. “Yeah, my best friend left without a second thought because of you. Way to screw over everyone, Wanda”

“I didn’t want this to happen”

“That’s not good enough, unfortunately. You got lucky, because Danver’s here. But I’m being serious, if I see you again I’m gonna make an even bigger scene”

Maria went after Darcy, who was clearly pissed off, leaving Carol and Wanda outside of the hospital.

“Do you know if she’s ok?” Wanda asked, looking down.

“She doesn’t answer anyone’s calls or texts, Wanda. All I know is she quit one week ago and got on a plane to Boston”

“Right… Well, I better go” she said, biting her lip. “Thanks for keeping Darcy from killing me”

“Yeah, we’re understaffed with Y/N gone. So I can’t really let Darcy get arrested” Carol joked, though it was also one way of reminding Wanda her actions had impacted a whole group of people outside of her.

“See you” Wanda nodded, walking fast to her car. Chief Fury almost clashed against her, as Wanda was looking anywhere but the path in front of her.

“I’m sorry”

“Bet you are” the man grumbled, walking to the hospital.

Even another man in a motorcycle couldn’t keep from staring at Wanda, his blue eyes cold as ice.

So, Wanda got on her car, and left without lookig back.

She lost you. Forever.

—-

“Morning” a very upbeat voice speaks as Ekaterina walks down the stairs.

“Morning, Mrs. Davies” she says, smiling.

“Oh, please, call me Sharon. Would you like some coffee?”

“I’ll take some tea”

“Of course. Very healthy!” the woman says, getting everything ready. Ekaterina takes a moment to look around, admiring all the plants in the room and the flower wallpaper.

“Are you a gardener?”

“Only for fun” Sharon says, putting some biscuits in a plate. “Can I just say, I love your accent?”

Ekaterina smiles, but keeps from answering that. Though people were nice about it, she knew others had always been critical of her for not learning “proper” English when her family moved to America.

Which is why she was happy to return to Sokovia when things settled. The US was never her home, even if it was for her children.

“Was the family happy to see you?”

“Oh, yes. Especially my daughter” Ekaterina jokes, though it flies over Sharon’s head. Of course she doesn’t know that they have a complicated relationship. “I do hope she has been a good neighbor to you. I raised her to be kind”

“Oh, she’s great. Always baking stuff for everyone, the kids are very polite and well behaved too. She’s a great girl, just as Y/N. They were good together. I hope Y/N is doing ok” Sharon says, pouring every single detail that Ekaterina wanted to know.

Well, seems like it’s gonna be easier than she thought.

“Yes, this Y/N girl. Can you tell me more about her?” she says in a casual tone, and Sharon is happy to talk about you.

“Well, she moved to the neighborhood like two years ago. She’s a surgeon, always working. Honestly, very quiet but very nice. One time I fell in the sidewalk and she slept in the couch just to make sure someone was around in case I needed something”

Very impressive. It was the kind of thing that would make Ekaterina approve of anyone dating her children.

“And she was with Wanda?”

“Well… I’m not sure I should talk about this” Sharon hesitates for the first time.

“I’m just curious, as a mother…”

Ah, the mother card.

It works so well.

“Of course, you’re right! It’s not like I’ll tell you things you can’t figure out on your own” Sharon laughs, thinking of everything she remembers. “Well, Y/N lived across the street from Wanda, which is probably how they started talking. You know, young people understand each other better than us”

“So they were together?”

“Yes, I think Agatha saw them almost a year ago… on a date or something. And then, it was kinda nice to see Y/N around a bit more. Ya know, it was obvious she was spending more time at home, to help with the boys. They adore her. Always running around with her, playing. It was nice to see them all be a family” Sharon’s enthusiasm dies down.

“And then?”

“Humm” she says, sighing. “I honestly don’t know. The last time I saw Y/N she was walking out of the house and she got into her car. She didn’t have any bags or anything, so I just assumed she was going to the hospital… but then she never came back”

“And you have no idea what happened?” Ekaterina pushes forward, curious to check if the woman’s being honest.

“No, I’m sorry”

“Mudak”

“Oh, can I ask what that word means?” Sharon says, smiling. She loves learning new words.

“It means motherfucker” Ekaterina answers, her accent heavy.

“Wow, ok” Sharon giggles nervously. “You know who could have that information? Agatha. Yeah, her girlfriend works at the hospital. She’s kinda scary”

“Agatha or her girlfriend?”

“Both, definitely both”

“How can I speak to them?” Ekaterina says, trying to piece everything together.

She can manage scary. Especially when she’s looking for answers.

—

Billy’s in a mood again. He didn’t want to go to school, and he’s still refusing to go to soccer practice.

“Daniel’s gonna keep annoying me” he mutters.

“I will speak with his father today” Wanda says, driving them both to school. “I’m sure it’s gonna be fine, sweetheart”

“Y/N would kick his ass” Billy says in a low voice, but Wanda still hears.

“Don’t speak like that. And violence is not the answer”

“Yeah, well, Daniel’s a jerk, his dad too and I want to talk to Y/N. She’s the only one that can make everything right again”

“Enough!” Wanda shouts, pulling up to drop them off. “Y/N’s not coming back. You hear me? She’s gone. We don’t need her, we’ve been fine on our own our whole lives”

“You’re lying. I hate you” he says, running out of the car.

Wanda’s speechless.

This is the first time she’s had a fight with her sweet boys. The first time they’ve been mean or said something to hurt her.

She was expecting this as they got old, maybe 13. But now?

“Bye, Mom” Tommy says, walking after his brother. He’s nervous too. He knows he can’t get into any more trouble or he might get suspended, but Daniel’s not the nicest kid.

“Oh, damn it” she looks behind her to notice Billy left his lunch. “Kids!”

“Hey, Wanda” Richard calls for her. “Heard our guys had a little fight. I was hoping we could talk about it. Maybe over dinner?”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. Is he really flirting right now?

“Yeah, I should actually…”

“No need to apologize, boys will be boys, right?”

“Apologize?” Wanda tilts her head, the way she always does when she’s pissed. “I wasn’t planning on doing that. And neither is Tommy”

“Well, he started the fight”

“No, Daniel was repeating the stupid things you say. Like how it’s wrong for two women to date. And he also insulted Billy” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “The way I see it, it’s the proverbial talk shit, get hit”

“Wow, ok, no need to get emotional”

“No, I’m not emotional. I’m just saying, if you ever say anything bad about Y/N or my kids and I get wind of it, I’m running you over with my car. See ya, Dick”

Fucking asshole.

Wanda can practically hear you say those words. Though you’d be a lot scarier, telling him all the ways in which he could get hurt using medical terms he wouldn’t even begin to understand.

You’d never let anything bad happen to your family.

Wanda decides to play the loudest music on the way back home. Yes, death metal from her emo phase -something you’d tease her for relentlessly before-.

As she pulls over in the driveway, her mother knocks on the window, making Wanda jump.

“Why are you still listening to that devil music? I thought that phase was over!”

“Mom!”

“Are you ok?”

“Fine”

“Yeah, I can tell”

“Ok, I don’t have time for this, I need to drive Pietro to rehab. Do you need anything from the store?”

“Yes, many things! Like actual paprikash. I can’t believe you buy US made. That’s why you can’t get the food right”

“Seriously?”

“Settle down, you two” Pietro asks, coming out of the house. It was a fun time, being a teenager and hearing his sister and mother argue over every single thing. They’re too much alike, that’s the only problem.

“Anyways, I will go to store, Sharon is letting me drive her car”

“Ok, does she know about the time you almost destroyed a McDonald’s with Papa’s car?”

“He said drive through, so I did!”

“Yeah, through the wall” Pietro laughs, earning a slap on the back of the head from his mother.

“You, go to your thing. And I’m picking up Billy from school today. He doesn’t want to go do soccer, so we’re going to get ice cream” Ekaterina says casually.

“It’s not optional for him! I’m the mom here”

“Just for a day. I hardly think it will affect him if he doesn’t run around like dog after a ball. Take Sparky instead” the woman says.

Wanda wants to scream into a pillow.

—

Ekaterina comes back from the store, but instead of parking outside of Wanda’s, she leaves the car right outside of Agatha’s home.

The investigation continues.

After a knock, a woman with dark, long hair and piercing blue eyes opens the door.

“You the OG Mrs. Maximoff” she greets, standing aside to let her in.

“I don’t know what those words mean. I’m Wanda and Pietro’s mother”

“Ooh, I love the accent. I love learning languages. My girlfriend is teaching me Spanish”

Before Ekaterina can answer, there’s a frantic knock, and Sharon walks inside the minute Agatha opens the door.

“I hope I’m not too late”

“I didn’t know we were having a party” Agatha says. She doesn’t really like visitors, and Mrs. Davies' enthusiasm and corny jokes are an acquired taste.

“Alright. What do you want to know?” Agatha leans back in her chair, intrigued by the woman.

Why not just ask her own daughter? Though, considering how Wanda’s been acting, she’ll probably refuse to answer any questions about it.

“Why did Y/N leave? Where did she go?”

“Ok, so… I need a minute because Rio was telling me everything in Spanish so I could learn. You know, using gossip as motivation” Agatha massages her temples, trying to remember everything. “Ok, there was a new doctor, something, something, cheating, slapping, break up”

“What?” Ekaterina says. “Are you saying that woman slapped my daughter?”

“No! Well, I don’t think so. Ah, screw it! Amor!” Agatha shouts, calling for Rio. “Ponte ropa y baja a contarles el chisme”

“Está bien” a voice says. A few minutes later, another woman joins them in the living room, wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

“You called?”

“Ok, so I kinda lied when I said I understood everything you said in Spanish. I do remember the name Natasha. And something about a kiss” Agatha smiles, and Rio can’t really stay mad when her girlfriend is looking all cute.

“So, a few months ago, Natasha Romanoff came to the hospital to teach a method developed by her mother. The Romanoffs are a very wealthy, very famous family of doctors. And everyone in the hospital kinda noticed that Natasha was flirting with Y/N”

“Did Y/N flirt back? Was she cheating on my daughter?”

“I meaaan, 50/50. The hospital was split. Some people believed that she was just being nice and others thought there were feelings involved”

“What do you think?” Ekaterina presses.

“I think Y/N was just being flirty but she never meant for anything else to happen. She’s just naturally personable. Even she can manage to make me laugh from time to time. So, I don’t know. There was a rumor that Natasha kissed her once or was trying to talk her into breaking up with Wanda… which, I guess has some truth to it, considering Y/N moved to Boston to work for the Romanoffs”

“I’m sorry, then who slapped who?” Mrs. Davies asks, confused.

“Oh, Y/N’s mother outside the hospital, but that's not related to Wanda. Darcy told me that woman is awful. Used to put Y/N through hell when she was a kid”

“Yeah, I know the feeling” Agatha mumbles and Rio places her hand on her shoulder, comforting her.

“I don’t like this Y/N” Ekaterina decides. “She was weak and got my family hurt”

“I don’t think that’s exactly accurate…” Agatha says, feeling the need to defend you. She knows you, and you’d never do anything to hurt Wanda. Not on purpose. “Look, I was looking for my bunny that night. Little shit likes to escape out of the blue. Wanda was the one who ended things. I heard that loud and clear. And yes, it seems messy, but I don’t think it’s fair to blame it all on someone”

“Yeah, Y/N really loved the kids and took care of Wanda” Sharon insists. Ekaterina sighs, crossing her arms.

“I don’t suppose anyone knows how to get in touch with Y/N”

Agatha, Rio and Sharon share a look.

“I could try” Rio offers, thinking Darcy might be in touch with you.

“Thank you. Now I go to pick up Billy from school. I appreciate your help”

“I actually need the car for a bit” Sharon asks, but the woman is already gone. “Oh, well”

—

True to her word, Ekaterina picked up Billy from school, while Tommy was supposed to ride with Sharon and her kid to soccer.

Wanda wasn’t really looking forward to practice today, in case Richard was there.

Thankfully, it seemed like Daniel was here with his mother, but Wanda’s stomach dropped when Susan walked up to her.

“Wanda, can we talk for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure”

They walked away from the rest of the parents.

“Look, I know what Daniel said and I already talked to him about it. He’ll apologize to Tommy and Billy, but I wanted to tell you personally how asahmed I am. Those awful things are all Richard and I really don’t want Daniel to be like his father”

“Oh… wow. I don’t know what to say” Wanda laughs, relieved. “Your ex had a very different approach to this whole situation”

“I know, he’s an asshole”

Both women laugh at that.

“I was going to say, he can speak to Tommy after practice, but I haven’t seen him today. Or Billy”

“Oh, Billy’s with my mother. But Sharon picked up Tommy…” though when Wanda looks around the field, she doesn’t see her son. Spotting Sharon, she runs up to her. “Hey, Tommy rode with you, right?”

“What? Wanda, he said he was feeling ill and that you were going to pick him up”

“No, that never… I-I don’t have any missed calls. No one from school told me anything. Shit!” she curses, her hands shaking. Her mother takes forever to pick up the phone. “Is Tommy with you? No, I know Billy’s there. What about Tommy? Ok, I don’t have time to explain, meet me at home now”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think to call you” Sharon says.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m sure it’s fine” Wanda repeats, trying to calm herself.

Her first instinct is to call you.

But then she has to think really hard on what to do, so she calls Pietro to make sure Tommy isn’t home by some weird miracle. Should she call the cops? The fire department?

Clint, he will know what to do.

“Ok, I’ll meet you at your house, it’s gonna be fine” Clint says.

“You good to drive?” Susan says, walking Wanda to the car.

“Yes. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding and Tommy’s in his room playing videogames”

“Well, ok, if you need anything here’s my number” the woman says.

Wanda goes over everything that could have happened. Tommy likes to visit the library, the park on Fullton street, the comic book store…

Clint’s already there when she gets home, and Ekaterina parks a second later.

“Billy, come here” Wanda kneels to look at her son. “Did Tommy tell you anything? Was he going somewhere?”

Billy shakes his head no, and Wanda insists.

“Sweetheart, are you sure? I promise I won’t be mad”

“I don’t know, I swear”

“Alright, I just spoke to my friend at the station. They’re gonna start looking for him. Pietro should stay here in case Tommy comes back or someone calls home. The rest of us could split and check places we know he frequents” Clint says.

“Billy, stay with uncle Pietro” Wanda asks. The boy nods, walking up the stairs to meet his uncle, who puts his arm around his shoulders.

“I’ll go to the arcade” Clint offers. “Ask if anyone’s seen him”

“We’ll go to the park” Wanda nods, waiting for her mother to join her in the car. She can’t even begin to understand what’s happening.

Wanda doesn’t know what to do, but she has to remain calm, because her son needs her.

—

Tommy’s begining to think this is a bad idea. He doesn’t have a lot of money and he doesn’t have a clue on what bus will take him to Boston.

He should be at soccer practice now.

He finds a cafeteria not far from school, and goes inside hoping he can get some free water.

“You alone, sweetheart?” the waitress says, concerned.

“No, my mom is in the bathroom” he lies and the woman doesn’t seem entirely convinced. Either way, she leaves him alone. Tommy takes the time to dig in his backpack for some extra coins that might be in there.

Instead he finds a letter and a couple of pins.

After reading it, he walks up to the waitress and finally tells the truth.

“I ran away. Can you help me find my mom?”

“Of course, sweetheart”

—-

“Where should we go?” her mother asks, and Wanda points in the direction of the lake.

“He liked to feed the ducks with Y/N”

“Ok, then”

They walk in silence, Wanda’s thoughts racing until her mother speaks.

“I lost you once. You were four or five, maybe, and we were at the market. While your brother picked out the apples, you decided to run after a chicken. And I was so scared, calling for you in the sea of people”

“Yeah. It’s an awful feeling” Wanda says, wiping away the tears.

They walk around the park for ten minutes before deciding he’s not here. Tommy’s nowhere to be found. He’s a ten year old, for God’s sake, where on Earth could he be?

Before she has time to think it twice, Wanda picks up the phone and dials your number.

“Hello?”

That’s not your voice.

It’s Natasha’s.

Wanda hangs up, and adds this to the list of shitty things that have happened to her in the span of two days.

“Mom, I can’t!” she finally breaks down. “I don’t know how to fix this. I miss her so much and I ruined everything and she’s never coming back. And now my boys hate me and I have nothing. All because I was so stuck in the past. And I lost her”

“Breathe. Breathe for me” Ekaterina pulls her daughter into a hug, while Wanda’s body shakes with the strenght of her sobs. “It’s ok. It will be ok”

“It doesn’t feel like it”

“Trust me” she says, waiting until Wanda calms down. After a few minutes, she wipes her tears and looks at her mother. Wanda’s about to say something else when her phone rings again.

“Oh, it’s Clint. Hello? Yes, where? Ok, send me the address and I’ll be right there” she hangs up, sprinting to the car. “He’s at a cafeteria not far from school”

“Thank God”

It’s only a five minute drive but to Wanda it feels like an eternity. As soon as she parks, she spots Tommy sitting at the counter, drinking a milkshake while a waitress talks to him, trying to ease his nerves.

“Is that your mom?” the woman says when Wanda gets inside. Tommy’s eyes widen, and he runs towards her.

“Mama!”

“Oh, Tommy. I was so worried about you”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s ok. I’m just happy you’re safe. Let’s go home”

—

The kids are safely tucked in bed, and Wanda’s having a glass of wine in the kitchen. She’d drink something stronger if she had anything at all.

Her mind goes back to the fact Natasha picked up your phone.

It doesn’t mean you’re with her. And even if you were, Wanda was the one that broke up with you.

Then why did it hurt so much to think you’d already moved on?

With a sigh, she goes up the stairs. Wanda can’t help but go into her children’s room, just to make sure they’re both safe.

When she asked Tommy what happened, he just said he wanted to go and see you. But then he changed his mind when he found something in his backpack. Though he wouldn’t tell Wanda what it was.

As the woman walks up to her children, she notices a letter tucked under Tommy’s pillow.

Could this be the thing he found?

Billy and Tommy,

Hey kiddos. This isn’t something I’m happy about and I never really wanted to write a letter like this one.

You might not see me anymore. I know it sucks, because I promised I’d take you to the state fair and Universal Studios when the school year was over.

The thing is, sometimes grown ups have a lot of complicated things going on. Sometimes things don’t work out no matter how much we try.

Be good to your mom, ok? If you miss me and want me to be less worried about you, just promise me you’ll love her extra for me. You are her biggest treasure and she’s such a great mom. Don’t forget you’re all each other have.

PS - I’m leaving my lucky pins with you. Please take care of them for me.

Love you three,

Y/N

Of course.

Of course it was you.

Even if you were thousand of miles away, you had found a way to help Wanda and keep her family safe.

Now she won’t be able to sleep at all, so she goes downstairs to the garage, full of boxes with your clothes and books.

For the first time since you left, Wanda allows herself to look at everything you left behind, and everything you did. The smallest things, like how you always forget to wear glasses to read, and you end up with a frown. Sunday’s crossword puzzle, always discarded. It’s not that you don’t finish it, the opposite. You know the answers to everything so fast that writing them is a waste of time.

Wanda pulls out your college sweatshirt, hugging it tight against her chest.

She misses you, so much it hurts.

As she puts on the sweatshirt, Wanda folds the sleeves, slightly long for her shorter arms.

When she’s about to close the box, she sees it.

A small box. For a ring.

An engagement ring.

She let’s out a gasp as she opens it.

You were proposing.

And all Wanda did was question your committment and your love for her and the children.

I’m such an idiot.

She doesn’t have much time to wallow, though. Wanda’s phone rings, and her mouth goes dry when she reads the name on the screen.

You.

Looking between her phone and the ring, Wanda doesn’t know what to do.

Should she tell you she found the ring?

Would it make a difference at all?

[mulloey]

distracted

bad students must face the consequences of their behaviour. it doesn’t matter who your boyfriend is.

words: 2.9k

part of my february festival event

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warnings: dom!professors matz x sub!student reader, teacher-student relationship (hongjoong x you), power dynamics, threesome, punishment, spanking with ruler, very light anal play, face fucking, double penetration (mouth & pussy), under-negotiated kink, unprotected sex, sir kink, degradation, light dumbification etc

i am not responsible for the content you consume.

“What is this?”

He waves the sheet in front of your face indignantly and you recognise it instantly as the test you’d taken last week; the red D scrawled in the top corner gives you away and you huff. “How did you even—”

“Seonghwa,” he says, cutting you off. You’d roll your eyes if you thought you’d get away with it right now.

You knew it was a bad idea, really, dating Hongjoong; he may not have been your professor, but he is a professor, so you should’ve figured he’d be in cahoots with your teachers. It’s not like discretion was a massive concern, anyway; your relationship is an open secret among the staff. It’s technically not allowed, but you’re a grad student, an independent adult and your parents donate enough money to the school that neither of you would be in too much trouble if anyone did find out anyway. So you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that, when you turned in a piss-poor exam, Seonghwa had run off tattling to your boyfriend. Dickhead.

“I was just having a bad day,” you say. “I studied, really. I don't know what happened.”

Neither of you believe that, but you push your lips into a pout and do your best to look contrite—to play the sweet, innocent girl your boyfriend loves to ruin.

“Joong…” You try to sound scared but you both know you’re not; there’s nothing he could do to you that you wouldn’t enjoy, after all. You’re just as sick as each other.

Hongjoong chuckles, clicking his tongue. He looks thoughtful for a moment, like he’s pretending to be conflicted over whether to punish you or not, but he’s not very good at hiding his excitement. The regretful sigh he lets out when he makes his decision is laughably disingenuous. “Bad girl,” he says, shaking his head. “You know I can’t let you get away with this, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to respond but he doesn’t give you time; he shoves you down harshly, bending you over his desk so your ass is sticking up in the air. It’s a familiar position that you’ve found yourself in time and time again since you met him and you body prepares itself automatically; expecting him to spank you, you stick your ass up higher and wait with bated breath for the first blow. It doesn’t come. You crane your head around, confused. “Joong, what—” Oh.

You don’t need to finish the question; standing behind you, next to Hongjoong, is the very man who’d got you in this predicament in the first place— your medieval history professor, Park Seonghwa himself. He tilts his head, smiling sweetly. “Good afternoon.”

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t expected this—when did he even come in, anyway? “Joong—”

“You think we didn’t notice how you look at him?” Your boyfriend asks coolly. It’s only because of the cock in his hand, hard and already leaking, that you’re not worried he’s mad at you; no, he loves this. You should’ve known.

“Is that why you failed?” Seonghwa asks. “Too busy dreaming about me bending you over your desk? You have a boyfriend; an esteemed colleague of mine, in fact.” His tone is chiding and you feel yourself flush.

Hongjoong snorts almost petulantly. “As if she cares about that.”

“No?” Seonghwa asks. “What does she care about, then?”

“Pull her panties down and find out.”

Your cunt throbs painfully at the surety of the demand and the dark look in Seonghwa’s eyes as he obliges without hesitation. He doesn’t ask permission before he touches you—he already has it from the one who matters, after all—but when he pushes your skirt up your back, his hands still momentarily; you smile into the wood as you realise what they’re both looking at—the white, lacy panties sitting snugly across your pert cheeks.

“Well, isn’t that a sight.” Seonghwa’s voice is hoarse and affected as he rubs a hand across the delicate material. You feel yourself tense under his touch, the unfamiliar feeling of his skin on yours, and he gently pinches the soft flesh. “Relax,” he mumbles. “Be good, yeah? I won’t hurt you, I’ll be gentle.”

A sweet sounding lie; you can tell from the heaviness of his hand as it comes to rest on your ass that he has no such intentions. He fingers softly at the lace of your panties, sighing ruefully. “These really are beautiful,” he muses. “I hate to have to take them down like this, but bad students have to learn, don’t they?”

“They certainly do.” You crane your neck to follow your boyfriend’s voice and find him leaning against the wall behind Seonghwa, staring you down with familiarly cold eyes. He cocks an eyebrow when you finally catch his gaze. “Got something to say, precious?”

“No, sir,” you whisper.

“Turn around, then,” he smiles. “I’m just here to watch.”

You turn back, though more so he doesn’t see you roll your eyes than out of a desire to obey him. Seonghwa has carefully shimmied your panties down to the middle of your thighs and the cold air of the office bites at your sensitive pussy.

“Spread your legs,” he says. “Show me how wet you are.“

Blushing furiously, you part your legs, spreading them as far as you can without snapping the panties bunched around your thighs. Seonghwa hums, running a long finger through your wet folds. The touch is unexpected but Hongjoong’s trained you well enough that you manage to stay still despite your surprise. You whine a little when he pulls away and you hear both men chuckle.

“Professor Kim,” Seonghwa says. His voice has a new quality; delicate and flirtatious as he addresses your boyfriend. “Come and taste how wet she is.”

You hear Hongjoong approach the elder and try to move around to see it, but Seonghwa’s firm hand on your neck holds you still. “I don’t think so, bad girl,” he tuts. “Only good little girls get to watch. Keep still.”

“Good call,” Hongjoong purrs. “She’s always loved seeing me with other people. Little pervert would probably start humping the table if she saw me doing this.”

You hear the wet, lewd sounds of Hongjoong sucking at Seonghwa’s finger, lapping up your juices with a noise of pleasure. “Delicious little slut,” he chuckles. “Let’s get her properly disciplined so we can play with her how she wants.”

Somehow you hear the wide grin in Seonghwa’s voice as Hongjoong backs away. “I quite agree.”

His hands rests on your ass again, squeezing it softly. “This is what’s gonna happen, little one. You got a 48 on my exam, didn’t you?”

You’re almost embarrassed to hear the number and you know Hongjoong is too. “Yes,” you whisper.

“Yes, Professor will do,” he says. “You’re not my friend, sweetheart. You’re just a wayward student being put back on the right path.”

Shame courses through you but it would be a lie to say it’s anything but thrilling. “Yes, professor,” you whisper.

He taps your ass appreciatively. “Good girl. So, you got a 48 on my exam. What was the pass mark?”

“60, Professor,” you mumble.

“Now that’s not very hard to achieve, is it Professor Kim?”

“It’s not. The pass marks in my class are higher, in fact.”

You want to roll your eyes at their smug, jovial tones but you’re too aroused now to do anything but anticipate.

“A pathetic score, really.” Seonghwa’s voice is closer than ever and you feel his presence just inches away. “Especially for such a bright young woman. I think you need to learn to separate your head—” he gathers a piece of your hair, gently folding it behind your ear “—and your pussy, hm?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good.“ Something long and thin taps at your bare skin and you recognise it instantly—the wooden ruler Hongjoong keeps in his desk drawer for when he’s feeling particularly on-the-nose about the taboo nature of your relationship.

“I’m going to hit you with this twelve times,” Seonghwa purrs. “For each of the marks you easily could have gotten if you hadn’t been too busy imagining my cock in your mouth. Yeah?”

You nod, feeling yourself pulse. “Yes, Professor.”

“Repeat after me, alright?” The first hit is quick and sharp, spread over your ass and it makes you gasp. Seonghwa chuckles and rubs the reddening flesh before he grabs your hair, yanking your head back to whisper in your ear. “One,” he says. “I’m sorry for being such a slut, Professor.”

You repeat it quietly and he tuts. “Louder than that, love. I’m sure your boyfriend wants to know you’re learning your lesson.”

You oblige, repeating it louder and he makes a noise of satisfaction before the ruler comes down again, this time at the tops of your thighs. “Two,” he says. “I’m sorry for thinking with my pussy instead of my head.”

“Two, I’m… I’m sorry for thinking with my pussy instead of my head.”

The next hit lands in the same spot. “Three. I’m sorry for dripping over Professor Kim’s desk just from being spanked.”

You blush in embarrassment; you’d half hoped he wouldn’t notice, but that was a tall order anyway. When it comes to Hongjoong and anything to do with him, you’ve never been subtle.

The next hits follow the same pattern, spread across your ass and thighs with each one making you gasp louder than the last.

“Four. I’m sorry for making Professor Park waste his time disciplining me.”

“Five. I’m sorry for daydreaming about choking on another man’s cock.”

“Six. I’m sorry for being arrogant enough to think I’d get away with such an embarrassing performance.”

The last one hits you right on your dripping pussy, making you scream and he grabs your hair, spinning you around to face him and your boyfriend; your eyes hone in on Hongjoong’s cock, pulsing in his hands before Seonghwa forces your attention back to him. “Twelve,” he growls. “I’m sorry for being such a cockwhore that I’m making Professor Park break his rule about sleeping with students.”

You can’t help but grin as you repeat his words, feeling proud. Of course, you knew from the moment you turned around and saw him standing there what was going to happen, but it’s nice to hear it from him. He smiles, grasping your neck gently. “Did you like that?” He asks. “Getting spanked by your professor while your boyfriend jerks off to it?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I liked it.”

“Well, now that you’ve learnt your lesson,” he says, “I think it’s time you got fucked, no?”

You nod and turn to your boyfriend; he tilts his head, nodding towards his hard cock. “You know what to do,” he says.

“Yes, sir.” You sink to your knees, staring up at Seonghwa and sending him a teasing smile before crawling towards Hongjoong. You open your mouth, letting him push his dick inside; after all this time together, he doesn’t need to ease you into it anymore and can go straight to fucking your mouth and you take it diligently, opening your throat the way he’s trained you to. You hear Seonghwa whistle, admiring.

“She sucks cock like a fucking pro,” he laughs; the arousal in his voice is thick and unmistakable. “You’ve trained her well, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong laughs too, patting your head. “I had an excellent student,” he grins. You smile around him at the praise and he curses. “You’re too good at this, babe, Jesus. Gonna cum before I even fuck you.”

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before pulling out abruptly, shoving you off of him and in an instant Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair as he pulls you to your feet and shoves you back over the desk. You collide painfully with the wood but you barely notice; you’re used to being manhandled by now, and it only makes you more excited.

Large hands you recognise as Seonghwa’s grab your ass cheeks, pulling them apart slowly; the air hits your exposed holes and makes you jump in surprise but you quickly regain your composure. As you still yourself again you feel Hongjoong’s finger running gently across your asshole, almost like he’s inspecting it, before it slides down to toy with your pussy.

“Hm…” Seonghwa’s voice is teasing. “What’s your favourite hole of hers, Professor Kim?”

“What a question,” Hongjoong chuckles and you hear the smile in his voice. His finger prods gently at your rim, making you tense unconsciously and he tuts, lightly slapping the tight little hole. It’s a subtle, painless chastisement but it makes you whine all the same. “Now, now, kitty cat,” he chuckles. “I didn’t train you to squirm, did I?”

“No, sir,” you mumble.

“Good,” he says. “To answer your question, Hwa, I’d have to say her pussy. I love her ass, of course, but nothing compares to the way that little cunt clings to my dick like it’s just begging for a baby.”

“Well that does sound nice.” Seonghwa’s hands leave your ass, returning to your pussy to spread you open. “It looks snug,” he says. “What do you think, little one? Want your professor to breed you?”

It takes you a moment for your brain to catch up with the rest of you and you frown in confusion. “I- you mean you, Professor Park?” You ask. It comes out as more of a strangled cry; your head is a mess of arousal and you barely even register what he’s saying to you, let alone comprehend it fully.

He laughs, patting your soft skin gently. “Yes, perhaps I should be more clear. It must be confusing to be bending over in front of two of your teachers.”

Your face burns at the obvious mockery; the degrading, sneering tone of his voice but you say nothing. Seonghwa hums. “So?” He asks sweetly. “You want me in your cunt, baby girl?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Professor.”

“There’s those manners,” he praises.

He keeps a firm grip on your hips as he slides in from behind; the feeling of his skin against your still burning ass is uncomfortable, but the way his cock is stretching you as he buries himself inside you is the only thing your brain can process right now.

He’s just as big as Hongjoong, maybe a little bigger, but his thrusts are more fluid and controlled; where Hongjoong fucks you like an animal hungry for more, Seonghwa fucks you with precision; with intention. His hands on your hips are firm yet gentle and the way he finds you in your deepest places has your head spinning with euphoria. “Jesus,” he curses. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth to respond, barely getting a whine out before you feel hands in your hair, yanking at it to pull you forward. Hongjoong comes into view on the other side of the desk, his dick somehow still hard as he feeds it into your mouth. “There you go,” he coos. “Keep it hard, baby.”

You nod as best as you can and the friction against his dick makes your boyfriend groan. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking good with cock you could make me cum on accident.”

The feeling of two dicks inside you makes it hard to focus on either one; let alone to begin to process the filthy words they spit down at you. Intesd you close your eyes, letting the tears fall as Hongjoong starts to fuck your throat again; you’re limp against the desk now, held up solely by the wood and by the two men using you to satisfy themselves. “Oh shit,” Hongjoong says, seeing your dazed expression. “Baby’s gone dumb already.” He strokes your hair gently, a small comfort between punishing thrusts. “You okay, little dove?”

You groan in response, unable to do much else; it makes them laugh and Seonghwa pats your ass affectionately. “You’re doing so well,” he says. “I’m almost there, sweetheart. Gonna fill you up real nice, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasp.

The feeling of Seonghwa’s thrusts growing faster and harder and more desperate is overwhelming; coupled with the sensation of Hongjoong’s cock hitting the back of your throat again and again, it’s almost unbearable. Your fingers claw against the wood, surely leaving marks but you don’t care; you feel unlike you ever have before, stuffed full and used by two of the most attractive men you’ve ever even imagined.

You’re in so deep that you don’t even realise it’s over until the emptiness of your mouth and cunt becomes obvious; you feel cum leaking from your hole, a wet substance dripping down the desk and only when you look closer do you figure out what it is—squirt. You squirted. You squirted all over your boyfriend’s desk with another man’s cock in your pussy and you’ve never been more fucked out and satisfied than you are now.

When you stand up fully your legs, numbed and weakened by their abuse, start to give out but Hongjoong is there in an instant; he catches you in his arms, lowering himself to the ground so he can cradle you in his lap. You’re faintly aware of Seonghwa’s voice and strong hands stroking your hair before he’s gone, and it’s just you and Hongjoong.

“Good girl,” he mutters. “You took that so well.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I only hope your performance in Professor Park’s class improves soon. Otherwise he’ll have to tutor you if you want to keep your spot in his class.”

Your heart jumps. “What?”

“Uni rules,” he shrugs, appearing nonchalant but the knowing smile on his face tells all. “If you fail two exams in a row, that’s what happens.”

You don’t know why he seems so surprised when you turn up in his office a month later with a D-minus and an already leaking pussy. He always knew you were insatiable.

Lucky for you, so are they.

—

comments/reblogs appreciated! i’m not sure im super happy with the ending but we move. let me know your thoughts! love🖤🖤🖤

ateez taglist: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi @tangerineastronaut @fancypeacepersona @aloevendetta (unable to tag: @lemonkait00 @mylovelymito)

february festival taglist: @hohongsan @nopension

[ditzydoe444]

Ok now I need hybrid reader getting fucked by Bruce and dick behind Jason’s back but Jason can smell them on her and he takes her to remind her who belongs to then goes off on Bruce and dick lmao

MDNI 18+

cw: hybrid puppy reader mentions of ears and tails

the moment jason stepped into his shared room with you he could sense something was off. maybe it was the way the bed was a mess, pillows thrown onto the floor, blankets falling into a mess and your limp body asleep.

however, due to your heightened senses and ability to track him down your body instinctively rose from your slumber, your eyes wide seeing him. “jacey!” you beamed, jumping into your arms like you weren’t knocked out sleep a few seconds before.

you smelt different.

he frowned, his brows narrowing as he observed your body in your tiny skimpy shorts that barely concealed anything. “what were you up to when i was away darlin’?”

you grinned, your pearly whites shining, “oh nothing,” you beamed shyly a faint blush on your cheeks as you avoided eye contact. you were hiding something.

jason’s strong hands gripped your chin, forcing you to stare at him.

“what did you do?”

he watched as your face flushed even more. “dick and bruce paid a visit,” you mumbled barely audible as your fluffy ears drooped down. “and?” his voice now stern.

“i didn’t mean it!” your voice high pitched whilst your eyes stared at him pleadingly.

“i was just so hot and bothered an-”

“and what?” his gaze cold, he already knew what happened but he wanted it to come out of your mouth first.

“i was horny and they fucked me,” you mumbled softly.

he nodded, “i knew the moment i smelt you pup,” his voice cold as he stared into your wide puppy eyes.

“i’m sorry jacey! i promise it won’t happen again!” you pleaded, eyes wide and filled with tears at the thought of losing him.

**

jason made sure it wouldn’t happen again, as he was balls deep inside you, making the flimsy bed creak as you whined and writhed underneath him.

“jacey!”

“shut it pup, you need to learn your fucking lesson,” his thrusts were harsh and mean, bullying your sweet spots whilst your gummy walls squeezed him tightly. “need you to know who you belong to and not get your holes filled by anyone that spares you a glance alright?”

“ok jacey!” you whined loudly as you barely took him in, choking on your own saliva.

“might need to get you a collar hm? to show people you’re mine only so you don’t go humping them like a dog in heat.”

he watched as a white ring was formed on the bae of his cock, how your arousal dripped down to his pubes. “jacey jacey,” you mumbled like a mantra, eyes rolling back as you got closer to your edge.

“alright sweet thing, i’ll let you come only if you don’t go bouncin’ on other guys dicks alright? if i find out i’ll edge you so god damn much.”

“promise jacey! i’ll be good!” you yelped as your body bounced with his harsh moments. sweat glistened on your soft body whilst your pupils were dilated, mouth hung open pathetically.

**

jason gave dick and bruce a stern warning, the two clearly did not care. “she came and started humping on my thigh, naked how could i say no?” dick shrugged as he mentally relieved the memory.

the way your fluffy tail seemed to wag seeing two attractive men was a dead give away, and the smell of your arousal filled their nostrils when they saw you. “yeah well she’s fucking mine, so don’t go fucking her alright?” jason narrowed his eyes at the two.

“just make sure she’s not humpin’ us first then we have a deal,” bruce grumbled lowly his pants straining near his crotch just discussing about fucking you.

[hisfavegirl]

Battle Of Desire - Maegor Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary : Maegor the Cruel. King of the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother. Your obsession. For years, you had watched him from the shadows. Admired him. Desired him. Even when others whispered of his brutality, his ruthlessness, you had seen him for what he truly was—a king who would not bend, would not yield. And more importantly, a king who deserved a queen unlike any other. And who better than you?

Word Count : 11.9k

Warning : Targcest (brother-sister), Sex before marriage, Rough Sex (more like animalistic to me), P in V, Dom!Reader, Dom!Maegor, Chocking.

Maegor Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The Red Keep stood tall, its freshly renovated walls gleaming under the sun, a fortress of power and dominance—just like its ruler. You walked through its halls, the sound of your footsteps barely audible against the distant clang of swords. The scent of newly polished stone and burning torches lingered in the air, a reminder of the blood and sweat that had gone into rebuilding this stronghold. His stronghold.

As you stepped onto the training grounds, your gaze was immediately drawn to him. Maegor.

He stood in the center, his massive frame towering over the three guards he was sparring against. Sweat glistened on his bare chest, his muscles flexing with each powerful movement. His Valyrian steel sword moved like an extension of himself—swift, deadly, and precise. One guard lunged; Maegor sidestepped effortlessly, bringing his sword down in a brutal arc that sent the man sprawling onto the ground. The second barely had time to react before Maegor twisted, kicking him hard in the stomach, sending him crashing into the dirt. The third hesitated for a brief moment—that was his mistake. With a single strike, Maegor disarmed him, his sword clattering to the ground.

You tilted your head, watching him with quiet intensity. He is magnificent.

He was your brother, but the way your heart pounded at the sight of him was anything but familial. You had known for a long time now that your feelings for Maegor went beyond what they should. He was brutal, terrifying, and ruthless—but to you, he had always been something more.

The last guard scrambled to his feet and, despite knowing he had already lost, attempted one final attack. Maegor barely even looked as he caught the man’s wrist and twisted, forcing him to his knees with a pained grunt. With a smirk, Maegor finally released him, turning his gaze toward you.

His sharp, violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded.

"You've been standing there for some time," he remarked, his voice deep and rough from exertion. He took a step toward you, sword still in hand. "Enjoying the sight?"

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but you held his gaze, refusing to look away. "Should I not admire the strength of the King?"

A slow smirk curved his lips, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Admiration is one thing," he murmured, closing the distance between you. "But you—" He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of silver hair from your face. "You look at me differently."

Your breath caught. Does he know?

"And how do I look at you, Maegor?" you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk widened as he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of steel and sweat. "Like you want me."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a flustered reaction. Instead, you tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. "And if I do?"

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression—something dark, something hungry. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Maegor chuckled, stepping back slightly, though his eyes never left yours. "Careful, little sister. If you tempt a dragon, don’t be surprised when you get burned."

You inhaled sharply, watching as he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering in your chest.

You had always known that Maegor was dangerous. But now, you knew something else.

He had noticed.

The corridors of the Red Keep were eerily quiet as you made your way to your mother’s chambers. The torches lining the stone walls flickered, casting long shadows as you walked. You knew she would be there—she rarely left her rooms these days, preferring the solitude of her own space over the constant tension of the royal court. Where once she had sat beside Maegor in the council chambers, her presence a silent yet commanding force, now she withdrew, as though the weight of everything had finally caught up to her.

As you stepped inside, the warmth of the fireplace greeted you. The scent of burning wood mixed with the faint aroma of herbal tea. Your mother, Visenya, sat in her high-backed chair, her posture as regal as ever despite the softness that age had begun to bring. She cradled a cup of tea in her hands, the steam rising gently, her sharp violet eyes flicking up to meet yours the moment you entered.

“You have been spending much time in the training yards,” she remarked, not as a question, but as a statement.

You exhaled softly, closing the door behind you before crossing the room to sit beside her. “I like watching him.”

Visenya’s expression did not change, but something in her eyes darkened. “I know.”

A silence settled between you, broken only by the distant crackling of the fire. She took another sip of her tea, then set the cup down on the small table beside her. When she finally turned to you fully, her gaze was unreadable, but her voice was firm.

“This obsession of yours with Maegor,” she said, “it must end.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you masked your reaction well. Still, she knew. Of course, she did. Nothing ever escaped your mother’s notice.

“Why?” you asked, your voice steady despite the weight in your chest.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Because it is dangerous.”

You scoffed. “Maegor is dangerous to everyone.”

She shook her head. “That is not what I mean.”

Her gaze was piercing now, cutting through the silence like a blade. “You think I have not seen the way you look at him? The way you watch him as if he is the only thing that exists in this world? You are my daughter, and I know what is in your heart, even if you do not wish to admit it.”

You clenched your jaw, your hands tightening into fists in your lap. “And if I do admit it?”

Visenya’s expression did not waver. “Then you must let it go.”

Anger flared in your chest, but it was not just anger—it was frustration, desperation. “You want me to deny what I feel?”

“I want you to understand the reality of what you feel,” she corrected. “Maegor is a man who takes what he wants. If he has not yet taken you, it is because he chooses not to. You may think yourself different from his other wives, but you are not.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “I do not care about his other wives.”

“And yet they exist,” Visenya said sharply. “They are proof that Maegor’s heart is not yours alone to claim.”

You stood abruptly, your pulse pounding. “He is my brother.”

“He is your brother,” she echoed, rising to her feet with the same quiet grace she had always possessed. “And he is my son. Do you think I do not love him? Do you think I do not see what he is becoming?”

You swallowed hard, but she did not stop. “I forged him into what he is. I guided his hand toward power because that is what was necessary. But you—” she took a step closer, her gaze softening for the first time—“you do not need to be caught in the fire of his making.”

You felt your breath tremble as you exhaled, your resolve wavering under the weight of her words. “You do not understand.”

“I understand more than you think.” She reached out, cupping your face gently in her hands, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks as she studied you. “You are not the first Targaryen to burn for another. But love alone will not tame Maegor. He does not rule with love—he rules with fear. And fear is no foundation for what you seek.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing the ache that had lodged itself in your throat. “I do not seek to tame him.”

“Then what do you seek?”

You opened your eyes and met hers, the truth slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Him.

Visenya sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling away. “You will only hurt yourself,” she murmured.

But as she turned back to her chair, you knew that the words, though meant to dissuade you, would do no such thing.

Because no matter the warnings, no matter the risks—you had already made your choice.

The thought lingered in your mind long after you left your mother’s chambers.

She did not understand.

She thought she could dissuade you, that her warnings could cool the fire burning within you. But she had forgotten something—you are her daughter. You share the same blood, the same ruthlessness, the same hunger for power. And Maegor? He is the only one who has ever matched you in that.

You moved through the halls of the Red Keep, your steps slow but certain. The Keep had been reforged under Maegor’s rule—stronger, darker, impenetrable. Just like him. It stood as a testament to his will, towering over King’s Landing like a beast ready to devour all who opposed it.

It was fitting.

Because the man who ruled within it was no different.

As you entered the training yard once more, you saw him, just as you had earlier. Maegor stood in the center, surrounded by the fallen bodies of his sparring partners. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath the blackened steel of his armor, his greatsword still dripping with sweat and dirt. He looked like a war god, a dragon in the shape of a man.

He turned at your approach, his violet eyes locking onto yours.

“You return,” he noted.

You tilted your head, amusement flickering in your gaze. “Should I not?”

Maegor scoffed, tossing his sword aside. “You should not be here at all.”

“And yet, here I am.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. He took a step closer, and so did you.

The others in the yard knew better than to remain. Guards, knights, even the few spectators quickly dispersed, leaving only the two of you beneath the setting sun.

Maegor studied you for a moment before speaking. “Our mother has words for you, I assume.”

You let out a soft laugh. “She does.”

“And?”

You shrugged. “She thinks I should forget you.”

His eyes darkened, something dangerous flashing across his face. “And will you?”

You smiled, slow and knowing, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “Do you think I will?”

He did not answer immediately. Instead, his gaze roamed over you—your face, your lips, the bare skin exposed at the collar of your gown. His fingers twitched at his sides, as though resisting the urge to reach for you.

He had always resisted.

But you could feel it—he was tired of resisting.

“You already have many wives,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “And none of them bear the blood of the dragon.”

He inhaled sharply.

You leaned closer, your lips just barely brushing against his ear. “You are the King, Maegor. You take what you want.”

His jaw clenched. “And what if I want you?”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, a victorious smirk curling at the edges of your lips.

“Then take me.”

The words hung between you like an unspoken challenge.

For the first time, Maegor did not fight it. He did not hold back.

His hand shot out, grasping the back of your neck as he pulled you against him. His lips crashed onto yours, hard and claiming, as if he were sealing his decision in that very moment.

It was not soft. It was not gentle. It was possession. And you welcomed it.

You didn't care about the gazes of the servants and guards when Maegor carried you to his room, you didn't even care about the whispers that would stick to you the next day. he closed his bedroom door with his foot and threw you on the bed.

The heavy clang of Maegor’s armor hitting the stone floor echoed through the chamber. One by one, the blackened steel plates fell away, exposing the powerful, battle-hardened body beneath. His every movement was deliberate, his sharp violet eyes never leaving yours as he rid himself of the barriers between you.

Your breath was uneven, your pulse quickened. Not from fear—never fear—but from anticipation. From the raw energy crackling between you, something that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

And now, finally, there were no more obstacles.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he removed the last piece of his armor. His chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths. The torchlight cast flickering shadows over the harsh lines of his face, highlighting the controlled restraint in his expression.

“You knew this would happen,” he said, voice dark and thick with something unspoken.

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips. “Of course.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes burning with something primal. “I should not want you.”

You arched a brow. “And yet, you do.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest. In two strides, he was upon you, his hands bracing on either side of you as he loomed over you on the bed. “You test me.”

You looked up at him, unafraid, reveling in the tension that coiled between you like a dragon ready to strike. “I know.”

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “This will change everything.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, feeling the tension beneath his skin. “Good.”

That was all it took.

With a sound between a snarl and a groan, his mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing the triumphant laugh that bubbled in your throat. His kiss was nothing short of a conquest, demanding, claiming. But you met him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in his hair, nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him down against you.

The weight of him was intoxicating. The heat of him burned through the layers of your gown, through your very skin.

His hands roamed your body, mapping every curve, every dip and rise as if he were learning you by touch alone. And then, with one sharp tug, he ripped the fabric apart, exposing you to the cool air of the chamber.

A gasp escaped you, but he did not give you time to recover. His lips moved from your mouth to your throat, teeth grazing your skin, marking you as his.

“You knew,” he murmured against your pulse, his breath hot and uneven.

You shivered beneath him. “Yes.”

His hand slid down your waist, gripping your hip, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise. “And you wanted this.”

You arched beneath him, pressing your body against his, daring him to do more. “Yes.”

His fingers tightened around your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the power he held—the power you had willingly walked into. Yet, you only smiled, tilting your head slightly, challenging him.

“You think you know me so well,” Maegor murmured, his voice rough, dangerous.

“I do.” Your voice was steady, unwavering.

His thumb traced the delicate line of your jaw, his grip firm, possessive. “Then you should know I do not take well to being manipulated.”

You laughed, soft and knowing. “Is that what you think this is? Manipulation?”

His eyes darkened, flickering with something unreadable. “You ask me to make you my queen.”

“I ask you to make me your equal.” You leaned closer, your breath warm against his lips. “You and I—we are the same, Maegor. We take what we want, regardless of who stands in our way. You rule through fear, through fire and blood. And I…” Your fingers ghosted over his bare chest, tracing the scars earned through years of battle. “I understand you in ways they never will.”

His grip on your throat flexed, his gaze searching yours. “They will never accept it.”

“They do not need to.” Your voice dropped to a whisper, intimate, coaxing. “We are dragons, Maegor. Let them burn.”

A slow smirk curved his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “You seek power.”

“I seek you,” you corrected. “And I do not share what is mine.”

He studied you for a long moment, weighing your words, the certainty in your voice. Then, his grip loosened, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. He pulled you forward, forcing you to look up at him, forcing you to see the storm raging behind his violet eyes.

“You will regret this,” he said lowly.

You smiled, unshaken. “No, I won’t.”

His lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding, as if he could make you take back your words, as if he could make you yield. But you kissed him back just as hard, your nails digging into his shoulders, drawing him closer.

The battle for dominance raged between you, but you both knew the truth—this was no conquest. This was fate.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his pupils blown wide. He looked at you as if he had finally, truly seen you. And for once, Maegor the Cruel was at a loss for words.

Then, a slow, dangerous smile curved your lips. “Marry me, Maegor. Crown me, and let us rule together.”

His chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths. Then, finally, he murmured, “If I take you, there is no turning back.”

You held his gaze, unwavering. “Then don’t hold back.”

And just like that, the last of his restraint shattered.

Maegor was not a man who lost control easily. He was a conqueror, a warrior, a king forged in fire and blood. But with you, it was different. You saw it in his eyes—the way they darkened, the way his breath hitched as your fingers tangled in his hair, the way his body tensed as if fighting a losing battle.

"You hold yourself back," you whispered, pulling his hair back just enough to expose the sharp lines of his jaw, his throat. "Why?"

His teeth clenched, his grip on your hips tightening as if to steady himself. "Because if I don't—"

"You will," you interrupted, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice nothing but a sultry murmur. "You will lose control, and you will give in to me."

Maegor growled, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You do not command me."

You smirked, leaning in closer, pressing your body against his. "Don’t I?"

And that was it—the final push, the last thread of restraint snapping. With a snarl, Maegor's hands gripped your thighs, and in one swift motion, he had you beneath him, his body pressing into yours with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. His lips crashed against yours, all heat and hunger, all dominance and possession.

"You play with fire," he rasped against your lips, his voice thick with barely restrained desire.

"I am fire," you countered, your fingers digging into his scalp, pulling his hair once more.

The growl that escaped him was primal, his muscles flexing as he slammed into you with a force that had you crying out in both pleasure and triumph. You had pushed him to the edge, and now he was falling—dragging you down with him.

His pace was punishing, his grip unrelenting, his mouth everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, your lips. He was branding you, marking you as his just as much as you had claimed him for yourself.

"You wanted me like this?" he growled, his voice hoarse as he thrust deeper, making your back arch off the bed. "You wanted to break me?"

You gasped, your nails raking down his back, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath your touch. "No," you whispered breathlessly, your lips curling into a wicked smile. "I wanted to free you."

Maegor let out a sharp breath, his forehead pressing against yours as his movements grew rougher, more desperate. "Fuck," he muttered, his voice breaking into a groan as he buried himself deeper, forcing another cry from your lips.

You laughed between your moans, delighted by the fact that you had unraveled him so completely. "That’s the man I wanted," you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with something wild, something dangerous. "And you are mine," he declared, his voice a raw promise, a vow sealed in sweat and fire.

You pulled him down into another bruising kiss, your legs tightening around his waist, dragging him deeper, demanding more. "Then prove it," you challenged.

And gods, did he.

Maegor pinned your wrists above your head, his grip unrelenting, his body a force you could no longer control. The smirk on his lips was triumphant, cruel, his amusement unmistakable as he watched you tremble beneath him.

"Where is she now?" he taunted, his voice deep and laced with satisfaction. "The little viper who dared to play with dragons?"

You gasped, your back arching as he found that spot again, the one that made your body betray you completely. A whimper escaped your lips, and Maegor chuckled darkly, his gaze burning into yours.

"You were so bold before," he mused, leaning down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Teasing me, taunting me. But now?" He pressed a slow, deliberate thrust that had you biting back a cry. "Now you have nothing to say?"

Your hands strained against his grip, but it was useless—he was too strong, too unyielding. You wanted to fight back, to retake control, but he wasn't letting you. And that only made your desire burn hotter.

"Admit it," he murmured, his free hand trailing down your body, his touch deliberate, tormenting. "You wanted this. You wanted me to break you."

Your breath hitched, your body reacting before you could form a proper response. The way he moved, the way he owned you in this moment, left no room for anything but raw, helpless pleasure.

"You can't even deny it," he chuckled, his tongue flicking over the shell of your ear. "You're shaking for me, falling apart under my hands. Tell me, little dragon—" his teeth scraped against your throat, his next thrust making stars explode behind your eyes. "Do you still think you can control me?"

Your pride warred with the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. You wanted to deny him, to tell him you still held the upper hand—but the way he had you now, completely at his mercy, made it impossible.

Still, you forced yourself to smirk, even as your voice trembled. "Perhaps I let you win this time."

Maegor stilled, his grip tightening around your wrists, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. "Let me?"

A flash of something dark and thrilling passed between you. His expression twisted into something feral, something ruthless.

"Then let's see," he growled, lowering his body over yours completely, pressing you into the mattress, "how much more you are willing to give me."

And then, with one punishing snap of his hips, he shattered you completely.

Maegor let out a deep, guttural growl when he felt your teeth sink into his flesh, his body tensing above you. His grip on your wrists tightened, but you didn’t care—you had marked him. You had left something on him, a reminder that you were not merely his to conquer, but that he belonged to you just as much.

A slow, satisfied smirk spread across your lips as you pulled back, admiring the red mark blooming on his neck. "There," you murmured, your voice thick with pleasure and triumph. "Now everyone will see that even the mighty Maegor the Cruel is claimed."

His breath was ragged, his silver hair damp with sweat as he loomed over you, his body still moving, still demanding. His free hand came up to grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his darkened eyes. There was something dangerous in them, something feral—but also something deeply satisfied.

"You think that makes me yours?" he rumbled, voice low and threatening, but you could hear the amusement laced within it.

You tilted your head despite his grip, your smirk widening. "Are you saying it doesn’t?"

Maegor bared his teeth in something between a grin and a snarl. "Foolish girl," he muttered before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and dominance, as if trying to consume you. His thrust became rougher, more determined, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress, ensuring you had no escape.

Yet still, your gaze burned into his, your challenge unwavering. You knew him—you knew how to play this game, how to make him feel in ways he never had before.

"You are mine," you whispered when he pulled back for air, your breath mingling with his. "Whether you admit it or not, Maegor."

His eyes darkened further, something unreadable flickering in them. Then, suddenly, he released your wrists, his large hands gripping your waist instead.

"Then prove it," he growled.

Before you could even process his words, he had flipped your positions, your body now straddling his. The sudden shift made you gasp, your hands instinctively planting themselves on his chest for balance. His smirk returned as he watched you, his grip firm on your hips.

"Show me," he demanded. "Take what you claim as yours."

Your heart pounded, your breath unsteady—but you refused to hesitate. If he wanted proof, you would give it to him.

With a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, you set the pace, your movements confident, knowing exactly how to drive him mad. His hands trembled against your skin, his jaw clenched as he let you lead, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"You are mine," you echoed, watching as his breath hitched, his grip tightening. "And I will never share you."

Maegor’s growl vibrated through his chest, his restraint slipping. His hands guided your movements now, meeting your rhythm with his own. "Then you had best make sure no one can ever take me away from you."

And with that, the battle between you continued—one of fire and desire, of dominance and submission, of two dragons unwilling to be tamed by anything but each other.

You sat atop him, your silver hair cascading over your shoulders, your body moving with deliberate confidence. Maegor, beneath you, was a vision of restraint and frustration. His head was thrown back against the pillows, his jaw clenched, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him as he fought the primal urge to take what he wanted. What you had denied him.

His breathing was ragged, his powerful chest rising and falling as he struggled against the command you had given him. Do not touch me unless I allow it.

And Maegor had obeyed. But his patience was wearing thin.

Your fingers trailed up his arms, over the scars that marked his battles, before settling around his throat. Not tight enough to hurt—just enough to claim.

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. The violet depths burned with something dark, something dangerous, something hungry. His lips curled into a smirk, though his voice was rough when he spoke.

"Do you think you rule me, little dragon?" His words were mocking, but there was an edge of something deeper—curiosity, even admiration.

Your grip on his throat tightened slightly, your nails digging into his skin just enough to make him swallow hard. "I know I do," you whispered, leaning closer, your breath ghosting over his lips. "You are mine, Maegor. No one else."

A deep, guttural growl rumbled in his chest, his muscles tensing beneath you as if ready to throw you down and reclaim control. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. You had stripped him of that power tonight, and you both knew it.

"Arrogant," he murmured, though there was something like admiration in his voice. "Just like me."

You smiled, tilting your head slightly as you pressed a slow, taunting kiss to his jawline. "That is why we belong together."

His hands twitched, his restraint fraying at the edges. You could feel the battle raging within him—the war between his desire to dominate and the intoxicating thrill of surrendering to you, just this once.

"You tempt fate, sister," Maegor warned, his voice hoarse. "You do not know what I will do once I break free of your chains."

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with unwavering certainty. "Then break free, Maegor."

His breath hitched. His body coiled beneath you like a dragon ready to strike. But still, he did not move.

"You see?" you whispered, pressing your lips just above his pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch. "Even you cannot deny me."

His head fell back against the pillows with a low, frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the sheets as he surrendered—completely.

And you smiled. Because tonight, Maegor the Cruel belonged to you.

Maegor’s grip on the sheet tightened for a brief moment before he let out a sharp exhale, his head falling back against the pillows. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing beneath your fingers as you moved with deliberate, confident grace, your hands now firmly planted on his broad shoulders.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he growled, his voice hoarse, strained. His hands flexed at his sides as if resisting the urge to seize control.

You smirked, leaning down so that your lips brushed against the shell of his ear. "Am I?" you whispered, tilting your head slightly to press an open-mouthed kiss against his jawline, feeling the way his body trembled in response. "I think you’re just not used to someone telling you no."

His growl deepened, but still, he did not move to stop you. You could see it in his face—the battle between his need for control and his hunger for you. He was Maegor the Cruel, a man who took whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And yet, here he was, allowing you to dictate the pace, letting you be the one in control.

You rolled your hips once more, slow and unrelenting, watching as his fingers dug into the sheets. His nostrils flared, his darkened violet eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of frustration and unbearable desire.

"Do you hate this?" you teased, dragging your nails down his chest, watching the way his muscles rippled beneath your touch. "Being beneath me?"

His eyes flashed, his lips parting as if to snarl some sharp retort—but then you moved again, and whatever words had been forming in his throat died on his tongue.

A deep, shuddering breath escaped him, and for a moment, his grip on control faltered. His hands twitched toward your hips before he caught himself, fists clenching instead. You laughed—low and victorious.

"Poor, poor Maegor," you crooned mockingly, running your fingers through his damp silver hair. "Always so strong, so unyielding… And yet here you are, trembling beneath me."

His patience snapped.

In the blink of an eye, his hands shot up, seizing your wrists and flipping your positions before you could even gasp. Your back hit the bed, your head spinning. His body caged yours beneath him, his fingers wrapping around your throat as he loomed over you, his expression a mixture of fury and unrelenting hunger.

"You truly think you can tame me?" he rasped, his voice thick with something between fury and raw, unfiltered desire. "That you can toy with me without consequence?"

You smirked up at him, your breath uneven, but your confidence unshaken. "I know I can."

His expression was unreadable for a moment, his lips slightly parted, his breath heavy. Then—slowly—his mouth curved into something dangerous, something almost proud.

"You will regret this," he warned.

But even as he said it, his lips descended upon yours once more, and you knew—there was no regret to be had.

Maegor did not hold back. His grip on your hips was ironclad, his movements relentless, driving you further and further into a state of pure, uncontrollable sensation. Your nails clawed at his shoulders, your voice breaking into incoherent pleas as he continued to push you beyond your limits.

His dark violet eyes glowed with something triumphant, something wicked. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "What happened to all that confidence, little one?" he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. "Where is the fearless woman who thought she could tame me?"

You could barely breathe, let alone form a response. The intensity, the overwhelming sensation, it was too much. Your body betrayed you, trembling violently beneath him, your fingers clutching at him as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Maegor chuckled darkly, his hand sliding up to cup your throat, his thumb brushing lazily over your racing pulse. "So fragile," he murmured mockingly, tilting his head as he observed you. "And yet, you truly believed you could best me?"

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, only to snap open when he suddenly stilled.

A sharp gasp left your lips as you found yourself teetering on the very edge of oblivion, your entire body burning with frustration. Your hands fisted against his chest, your breath ragged. "Maegor—"

His smirk widened. "Ah, so you do know how to beg," he mused, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch. "Say it again."

Your pride warred with your desperation. You wanted to defy him, to prove that you were still in control, but gods, the way he held you, the way he owned you in this moment—it shattered any semblance of resistance you had left.

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His eyes darkened, his smirk fading as something more primal took over. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, his voice a low, possessive growl. "Good girl."

And then, without warning, he moved.

A scream tore from your throat as he pulled you under, into a world where nothing existed but him—the weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the sheer power he wielded over you so effortlessly. Your vision blurred, your mind spinning as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you utterly undone beneath him.

Maegor watched you with satisfaction, his expression one of absolute victory. He slowed, his hands running possessively down your trembling form, as if to savor the sight of you like this—wrecked, breathless, completely his.

"You will never win against me," he murmured, pressing a searing kiss to your parted lips. "No matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you pretend to have control."

He pulled back just enough to meet your dazed, unfocused gaze. His fingers brushed against your cheek, almost tenderly. "You belong to me," he whispered. "And I will make sure you never forget it."

Your body trembled violently, your senses consumed entirely by him. Maegor had torn away every last fragment of control you thought you had, leaving you at his mercy—breathless, shaking, and utterly undone beneath him.

Yet, despite the exhaustion, despite the way your limbs felt like they no longer belonged to you, something deep inside you refused to surrender. You were a dragon, just as much as he was. And dragons did not bow so easily.

As the final waves of pleasure coursed through you, your arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, marking him just as he had marked you. "Maegor—" His name escaped your lips in a desperate cry, raw and unrestrained, and the sound of it seemed to push him over the edge.

A guttural growl tore from his throat as he gave in to his release, his entire body tensing above you. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing bruises into your soft flesh as he buried himself deep, claiming you in the most absolute way. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged and uneven, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something—but words failed him in that moment.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The only sound in the dimly lit chamber was the heavy rise and fall of your breathing, the lingering echoes of your shared pleasure still hanging in the air. His weight pinned you to the bed, warm and solid, as if he had no intention of letting you go.

You felt his lips brush against your temple, an almost tender gesture, so different from the ruthless dominance he had just shown. His hand slid up your body, fingers tracing along your collarbone before cupping your face. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His violet eyes were dark, still clouded with the remnants of desire—but beneath that, there was something else. Something deeper.

"You are mine," he murmured, his voice rough but certain. "And I will never let you go."

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, his mouth was on yours again, claiming, demanding. There was no space for hesitation, no room for doubt. He wanted you to understand that this—you and him—was not something temporary.

When he finally pulled away, his gaze swept over your face, as if committing every detail to memory. "Say it," he commanded, his voice softer now but no less insistent. "Say that you belong to me."

A part of you wanted to resist, to challenge him as you always had—but you knew the truth. You had belonged to him long before this night, long before either of you had dared to act on what had always simmered between you.

Your fingers traced over his jaw, your touch gentle, almost reverent. "I am yours, Maegor."

A slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips. "Good," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips, this one lingering, possessive. "Because I would burn the world to keep you."

The air in the chamber was thick with the scent of fire and sweat, of desire finally unleashed after years of restraint. You lay beneath Maegor, your body still tingling from the aftermath of what had just transpired between you. Your breaths mingled, your limbs tangled together, but what consumed you now was not just the physical pleasure—it was the undeniable truth that, after tonight, everything had changed.

Maegor had always been an enigma, a man of steel and fury, forged in the crucible of war and ambition. He had many wives, many women who vied for his attention, but none of them were you. None of them had shared his blood, his fire. None of them had challenged him the way you did.

And tonight, for the first time, you saw the shift in his gaze. He no longer looked at you as just his sister. He no longer saw the child who had once trailed after him in the halls of the Red Keep. No—now, he saw you, the woman, the dragon who had dared to claim him as her own.

Maegor ran a hand through his hair, his chest still rising and falling heavily as he leaned on his forearm above you. His violet eyes bore into yours, searching, filled with something unreadable. His fingers ghosted along your jaw, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. "You planned this, didn't you?" His voice was low, rough, but there was amusement beneath the accusation.

A slow, knowing smile curled at your lips. "I have always known what I wanted, Maegor," you whispered, tilting your head slightly. "And I do not lose."

His smirk widened, but there was something dangerous in the way he looked at you now. "Neither do I," he countered, gripping your chin and forcing you to hold his gaze. "Do you know what you have done?"

You reached up, trailing your fingers over the scars on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. "I have taken what is mine."

A sharp breath left his lips, his grip tightening for just a moment before he let out a low chuckle. "So bold," he murmured, shaking his head. "So foolish."

"Foolish?" you echoed, arching a brow. "Or brave?"

His eyes darkened at that, and in one swift motion, he rolled you onto your back again, his weight pressing you into the furs beneath you. "Reckless," he corrected, his lips ghosting over yours. "You think you can have me all to yourself?"

Your nails dug into his back, a smirk playing on your lips. "I do not think, Maegor. I know."

He inhaled sharply, his fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled your head back, exposing your throat to his burning gaze. "You do not command me."

You let out a soft, breathless laugh. "And yet, here you are…"

A growl rumbled in his chest before his lips crashed against yours again, fierce and demanding. It was a battle neither of you would ever surrender.

As the night stretched on, as your bodies and wills clashed again and again, you knew one thing for certain—Maegor the Cruel had finally met his match.

You barely had time to register what was happening before you were yanked harshly from Maegor’s warmth. The lingering haze of exhaustion and pleasure still clung to your body, but the sudden forceful pull on your wrist had you snapping awake instantly.

A sharp gasp left your lips as you stumbled, barely catching yourself before falling completely. Your eyes darted to the woman standing before you, her grip on your arm firm, her expression twisted in anger.

It was Tyanna.

Her dark eyes burned with fury as she glared at you, her jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in her face. Behind her, you noticed the door to Maegor’s chamber was wide open, the hallway beyond it filled with the hushed murmurs of curious onlookers. Servants, guards, and even some of the other wives peered in, their faces a mix of shock, curiosity, and amusement.

You pulled your arm back forcefully, shaking off her grip as you straightened your posture. The silk sheets pooled around your waist, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool morning air, but you refused to show any sign of weakness. You lifted your chin, meeting Tyanna’s glare with a calm, almost lazy defiance.

"You dare touch me?" you asked, your voice smooth and even, though there was an undeniable edge to it.

Tyanna scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she sneered down at you. "I should be the one asking you that," she spat, her eyes flicking toward Maegor’s still-sleeping form. "You think you can just crawl into his bed like some common whore and take what belongs to us?"

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. "I did not crawl, Tyanna," you corrected her coolly, brushing a strand of silver hair behind your ear. "I was carried."

Her face darkened in an instant.

"You think this is a game?" she hissed, stepping closer, her voice low and venomous. "You are nothing more than his latest amusement, a passing distraction."

You hummed, tilting your head. "A distraction that kept him entertained all night, it seems," you mused, glancing at the marks Maegor had left all over your body. "How unfortunate for you."

Tyanna’s hand shot out as if to slap you, but before she could strike, another hand caught her wrist mid-air.

A deep, warning growl filled the room.

Both of you froze.

Maegor.

His grip on Tyanna’s wrist was bruising, his expression a storm of barely contained rage as he loomed over the both of you. The golden morning light streamed in from the window, illuminating the sharp lines of his face, the unmistakable power in his form. His dark violet eyes flickered with fury as he turned his gaze to Tyanna.

"Touch her," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper, "and I will rip the flesh from your bones."

Tyanna stiffened, her eyes wide with shock. "Maegor—"

"Silence."

His command was absolute.

You could see her struggling to maintain her composure, but the raw authority in Maegor’s voice left no room for argument. He did not release her wrist immediately; instead, he tightened his grip just enough to make her wince before shoving her away.

She stumbled slightly, but recovered quickly, glaring at you one last time before turning on her heel and storming out of the room, her skirts billowing behind her.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Maegor exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as if the mere presence of his wives exhausted him. He turned back to you, his gaze raking over your exposed form before settling on your face. His expression softened—only slightly, but you noticed it nonetheless.

"You have a habit of causing trouble," he muttered, reaching out to brush his fingers against your jaw.

You smirked, leaning into his touch. "And yet, you never seem to mind."

His lips quirked upward in amusement before he suddenly grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze fully.

"Let them be jealous," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Let them burn with it."

Then, with a satisfied hum, he pulled you back into the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist possessively.

"You are mine now," he whispered against your skin. "And I do not share."

The laughter that filled the chamber died instantly as the heavy doors swung open.

You barely had time to react before the towering figure of Visenya Targaryen stood framed in the doorway, her presence alone enough to suck the warmth from the room.

She did not need to shout.

She did not need to brandish Dark Sister.

She did not need to utter a single word.

Her silence alone was a blade at your throat.

Maegor’s lips stilled against your skin, his body still covering yours protectively, but he did not move away. Instead, his grip on you tightened, his muscles tensing as he turned his head toward your mother. His violet eyes met hers, unreadable yet unwavering.

Visenya’s gaze was cold, calculating, as sharp as the sword she wielded. Her face betrayed no emotion, save for the slight furrow of her brow—the only indication of the storm that brewed within her.

A long silence stretched between the three of you.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“Get up.”

Her voice was not loud, but the weight of command in it was absolute.

You did not move.

Neither did Maegor.

His grip on you only tightened.

Visenya’s eyes darkened as they flicked between the two of you, her lips pressing into a thin line. She stepped forward, each movement precise, measured. When she spoke again, her tone was clipped, biting.

"Are you truly this foolish?" she asked, her gaze burning into you. "Or have you simply gone mad?"

Your fingers dug into Maegor’s arm as you sat up, but you did not look away. "Neither," you answered calmly. "I know exactly what I am doing."

Visenya’s expression remained unreadable, but you saw it—the flicker of something dangerous in her eyes.

"Do you?" she murmured.

You held her gaze.

"Yes."

Her lips curled, not quite into a smile—more like the ghost of something cruel.

"You believe you are above consequence," she mused, stepping closer. "You believe your blood, your name, will protect you from the fury of those who will see this as an affront."

You tilted your chin, refusing to cower before her.

"I believe," you said slowly, "that I am the only one worthy of him."

That made her pause.

Maegor let out a low chuckle, his grip on you loosening slightly as he leaned back against the headboard, watching the exchange with amusement. His mother’s gaze flickered to him, as if to gauge his reaction, before she exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Is that what you think?" Visenya asked, arching a brow.

"It is what I know," you corrected.

For the first time, her expression shifted. Not anger. Not disappointment.

Something closer to intrigue.

She studied you for a long moment, the firelight casting shadows across her sharp features. When she finally spoke again, her voice was quiet, but the edge remained.

"Rise," she ordered.

You hesitated only for a moment before Maegor moved first, pulling you up alongside him. The silk sheets pooled around your waist as you sat up fully, facing your mother without shame, without hesitation.

Visenya’s gaze flickered briefly to the marks along your skin—the proof of what had transpired between you and Maegor the night before.

She did not look surprised.

She did not look pleased, either.

Instead, she simply clasped her hands behind her back and said, "Dress yourself. We will speak in the Tower of the Hand."

Then, without another word, she turned and strode from the room, leaving the heavy doors open in her wake.

The moment she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Maegor was still beside you, his hand tracing absent patterns along your thigh. You turned to him, finding his lips curved into something between amusement and satisfaction.

"She did not say no," he mused.

You smirked. "Not yet."

He chuckled, his hand tightening around your waist as he pulled you closer. "Then let us ensure she never gets the chance to."

You walked beside Maegor, your pace measured, your head held high, as if the weight of every whispered word around you did not exist.

The halls of the Red Keep were alive with murmurs—maids clutching their cleaning rags, their eyes wide with scandalous delight; courtiers pausing mid-step, turning to murmur behind their hands as their gazes flickered between you and Maegor.

They were not subtle.

Some did not even bother to whisper.

Yet you paid them no mind.

You had chosen your gown deliberately. The dark velvet fabric clung to your form, the heavy embroidery glinting under the torchlight. The neckline—low enough to reveal the bruises Maegor had left upon you—was not an accident, nor was the way you allowed your hair to tumble freely over your shoulders, rather than pinned in the modest fashion expected of noblewomen.

You wanted them to see.

You wanted them to talk.

And they would.

Maegor, at your side, was silent but imposing. His presence alone sent a chill through the air, making those in your path step aside without hesitation. His dark armor gleamed, his black cloak billowing behind him as he walked, his hand resting idly upon the pommel of his sword.

He did not look at you, nor did he acknowledge the stares—but you knew he was aware of them.

Just as you were.

And when you finally reached the doors to the chamber where Visenya awaited, he turned his head ever so slightly, his lips curving in the faintest of smirks.

He was enjoying this.

The tension.

The spectacle.

The knowledge that every person in this castle now knew that you belonged to him.

He reached for the doors and shoved them open without hesitation.

Inside, Visenya stood near the hearth, her hands clasped behind her back, her silver hair catching the firelight. She did not turn as you entered, but you could feel the weight of her presence, the sharpness of her mind already dissecting your every move before you even made them.

"You are bold," she said at last, her voice measured, calm. "Perhaps too bold."

You stepped forward, your chin lifted. "You did not summon us here to discuss my wardrobe."

That made her turn.

Her eyes—those same sharp, calculating violet eyes that you and Maegor shared—landed upon you first. They lingered on the marks upon your skin, the way your gown so purposefully displayed them.

Then, slowly, she shifted her gaze to Maegor.

"You should have more sense than this," she told him. "But perhaps I overestimated you."

Maegor did not flinch. He did not look away. "You overestimate your own authority, Mother, if you think to dictate whom I take to my bed."

Visenya exhaled sharply through her nose, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"This is not merely about a bed, and you know it." She turned back to you. "What is your endgame, child? What exactly do you hope to gain from this?"

You held her gaze.

"I do not hope for anything," you said simply. "I will have what is mine."

Her brows lifted ever so slightly. "And what, pray tell, do you believe is yours?"

You glanced at Maegor then, at the way he stood beside you, solid and unmoving, his hand still resting upon his sword as if daring anyone to challenge his right to be at your side.

Then, with the confidence that had been carved into your very bones, you turned back to Visenya and answered:

"The throne."

Silence.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the crackling of the fire.

Then—slowly, very slowly—Visenya smiled.

It was not a warm smile.

It was not a pleased smile.

It was sharp. Calculating.

Like the first flicker of a flame before it consumes everything in its path.

She exhaled softly and stepped closer, so close you could see the faint lines around her mouth, the weight of years spent shaping the destiny of House Targaryen.

"If you wish to wear a crown," she murmured, her voice almost gentle, "then you must be willing to bleed for it."

You did not blink.

You did not waver.

You smiled.

"Then let the bleeding begin."

Visenya's words hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread.

"I should have agreed when your father wanted you to marry Aenys."

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Maegor’s jaw clenched so tightly you could hear the grind of his teeth. His hand, still resting upon the pommel of his sword, curled into a fist. The flickering firelight cast deep shadows upon his face, making him look even more menacing than usual.

You, however, could only stare at your mother, shock momentarily robbing you of speech.

"Aenys?" you echoed, as if you had misheard her.

Visenya did not waver. "Yes. He was our brother’s son, of pure Valyrian blood. A match that would have been appropriate—unlike this… madness."

Madness.

She was calling this madness.

She, of all people.

You almost laughed at the irony.

"You—" Maegor’s voice was a low, warning growl. "You would have given her to him?"

Visenya’s expression remained unreadable. "It would have been better than what she has chosen for herself."

A muscle twitched in Maegor’s jaw. His grip tightened upon his sword.

You saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way his nostrils flared—the barely restrained rage simmering beneath his skin.

And yet, beneath that rage…

There was something else.

Something dark and possessive and utterly furious.

You swallowed, regaining your voice. "You would have had me wed a man who would sooner hide behind his councilors than make a decision for himself?"

Visenya’s gaze flickered back to you. "Aenys was weak," she admitted. "But he was still our blood. And a union between you and him would have ensured—"

"Would have ensured that I spent my life shackled to a man unworthy of me." You lifted your chin, voice sharp. "Would have ensured that I wasted away in the shadows while he simpered before the lords of Westeros."

Visenya exhaled sharply. "And now you would shackle yourself to Maegor instead?"

At that, Maegor let out a low, mirthless chuckle. "No," he murmured darkly, stepping closer. "She does not shackle herself to me." His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist in an iron grip. "She belongs to me."

A possessive declaration. A claim.

One that left no room for argument.

Your heartbeat quickened.

Visenya’s eyes darkened. "Belongs to you?" she repeated, her tone edged with something unreadable. "Is that what you believe?"

Maegor smirked, tilting his head. "I know it."

Visenya inhaled slowly, measuring his words—measuring you.

"And you?" she finally asked, her gaze settling upon you.

You met her stare without flinching.

"Yes."

A single word. Steady. Unshaken.

Visenya studied you for a long moment, and for the first time, something flickered in her gaze.

Not anger.

Not disappointment.

But recognition.

"You are a fool," she murmured. "Both of you."

You said nothing.

She sighed, running a hand over her temple as if you had given her a headache. "Do you even understand what you invite upon yourself?"

You held her gaze. "I understand more than you think."

Visenya shook her head. "You think you understand. But power is not given—it is taken. And once you take it, there is no going back."

You did not hesitate. "I do not intend to go back."

A beat of silence.

Then Visenya exhaled softly, something almost like resignation flickering across her face.

"You will regret this," she murmured. "Both of you will."

Maegor smirked. "Doubtful."

Visenya stared at him for a long moment, then at you. Then, without another word, she turned and strode toward the doors.

But just before she exited, she paused.

"You should pray," she said over her shoulder, "that you never find out why I wanted you to wed Aenys instead."

And then she was gone.

The room remained heavy with her words.

You turned to Maegor. "Why would she say that?"

He was still staring at the door, his jaw set.

Finally, he exhaled and looked at you.

"Because she knows," he murmured, stepping closer, his hands settling upon your waist. "That I do not intend to share what is mine."

His grip tightened.

His gaze burned.

And despite the warning still lingering in the air—

You smiled.

The doors to the council chamber swung open with a resounding thud, and the air inside shifted, thick with tension as you and Maegor stepped inside.

Every eye in the room turned to you.

The lords of the realm—the men who had served under your father, Aegon the Conqueror, and now bowed before his son—stared at you in stunned silence.

Their gazes flickered between you and Maegor, their shock evident, though none dared to speak first.

For they knew who you were.

You were not just Maegor’s sister.

You were the daughter of Aegon the Conqueror and Visenya Targaryen. A dragon born of dragons.

And now—now—you were something more.

Maegor strode to the head of the table, his presence commanding as he turned to face them all. His hand, large and possessive, rested upon your lower back, the warmth of his touch burning through the fabric of your gown.

He did not wait for anyone to find their voices.

"I have summoned you all here to inform you of a decision," he declared, his voice a low rumble of finality.

Your lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile as you watched them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"The women who call themselves my wives," Maegor continued, his tone edged with disdain, "are no longer so. As of this moment, I renounce them. I annul every marriage."

A ripple of shock swept through the chamber. The lords exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to interrupt.

You could hear the sharp inhale of Lord Rogar Baratheon, see the way Lord Tully's hands twitched upon the table. Even Lord Celtigar, one of the most loyal supporters of House Targaryen, looked taken aback.

But Maegor was not finished.

"In their place, I will take one wife."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours.

Your breath hitched.

Not because you were surprised—no, this was what you had wanted.

This was what you had orchestrated.

But because, in this moment, standing beside him as he declared to the realm that you were his—

You felt it.

You felt the power shift.

The inevitability of it.

"The woman I will wed," Maegor continued, his voice dark and possessive, "is my sister."

The chamber erupted.

"My king —!" Lord Baratheon shot to his feet, but he was silenced by the sound of Maegor unsheathing Blackfyre and slamming it against the table.

The great Valyrian steel blade sent goblets spilling over, the clang of metal against wood ringing through the air like a war drum.

The lords flinched.

You did not.

Maegor’s eyes burned as he surveyed them, daring them to challenge him.

"I am your king," he reminded them coldly. "You will not interrupt me again."

A thick silence fell over the room.

Even Lord Baratheon, still standing, hesitated before slowly lowering himself back into his seat.

Satisfied, Maegor continued.

"There is no woman in the realm more worthy of my throne than my own blood," he declared. "No one more fit to rule at my side than my own sister. A dragon belongs with a dragon."

Your heart pounded as his words wrapped around you, solidifying the reality of what you had fought for.

The lords were stunned into silence, their minds scrambling to grasp what this meant—what you meant.

And then, finally, someone found their voice.

"Your Grace," Lord Tully said hesitantly, his face pale. "The Faith—"

Maegor turned his burning gaze onto him. "The Faith will bend. Or I will break them."

A chill swept through the room.

Everyone knew what that meant.

The memories of the last Faith uprising were still fresh—bodies impaled upon spikes, the Great Sept desecrated, the streets of King's Landing running red with blood.

No one wanted to challenge Maegor on this.

No one could.

And so, they remained silent.

You smiled.

Because in this moment—

You had won.

Maegor turned to you, his dark gaze locking onto yours, his lips curling into a smirk.

"You will be my wife," he said, his voice lower now, meant only for you. "And you will rule at my side."

Your hand reached up, fingers brushing his jawline, tilting his face toward yours.

"And I will never share you," you whispered back, your eyes alight with triumph.

Maegor exhaled a slow, deep chuckle, his grip tightening upon you.

"Then it seems," he murmured, "we understand each other perfectly."

As the heavy doors of the council chamber slammed shut, the lingering echoes of Maegor’s decree still clung to the air like a storm waiting to break. The lords had left in silence, their faces pale, their minds racing with the weight of what had just transpired.

But you—

You remained.

Alone with him.

Maegor leaned back in his chair, the great seat carved for kings, his fingers drumming against the armrest. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, molten pools—were fixed upon you, watching, waiting.

A slow smile curled upon your lips.

With deliberate steps, you approached the long table that had been the site of so many political discussions, so many power struggles—where the realm had just learned that you had triumphed over them all.

You placed one hand on the polished wood and then, with a graceful ease, lifted yourself onto the table, sitting directly in front of him, your legs on either side of his.

His gaze darkened.

Maegor’s hands found your waist instantly, his grip firm, possessive, pulling you closer until there was nothing but breath and heat between you.

Your arms slid around his neck, fingers threading into the thick silver strands of his hair.

"That went well," you mused, tilting your head, your voice laced with amusement. "They did not dare to argue for long."

Maegor let out a low chuckle, one of satisfaction. "Because they fear me," he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing the sensitive point of your jaw. "As they should."

You hummed in agreement, your nails lightly scraping against the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

"And now," you whispered, leaning in until your lips nearly brushed his, "they will fear me as well."

Maegor’s grip tightened.

"Good," he rumbled. "Let them."

His hands slid down, rough palms pressing against your thighs before gripping your hips, pulling you forward until you were flush against him.

"You did not even hesitate," he said, his breath warm against your lips. "Did you ever?"

You laughed softly, brushing your nose against his.

"Never," you admitted. "You are mine, Maegor. And I do not share."

His pupils dilated at your words, a growl of approval escaping him.

"Neither do I."

Then his lips crashed against yours, and you let yourself be claimed—just as you had claimed him.

The fire between you and Maegor was not one that could be tamed. It was raw, untamed, a hunger that no one else could ever understand.

His lips crashed against yours once more, neither of you willing to yield, both fighting for dominance in a battle that neither truly wanted to win. His hand slid up your back, fingers pressing into your spine as he pulled you impossibly closer. The warmth of his body, the sheer power of him, sent a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard, making him groan against your mouth. It was a sound of frustration and pleasure all at once. His hands tightened on your waist, his grip possessive, almost punishing.

"Still trying to control me, little dragon?" he murmured against your lips, his breath hot, teasing.

You smirked, your nails scraping against the back of his neck. "You belong to me, Maegor. Do you doubt it?"

He let out a low chuckle, one filled with dark amusement. "I do not doubt it," he admitted, his lips trailing along your jawline, down to the curve of your neck. He bit down—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. "But you belong to me just the same."

Your head tilted back as his mouth worked its way lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Your heartbeat pounded against your ribs, a rhythm that matched the fire burning in your veins.

Your legs tightened around his waist, your body molding against his as his hands roamed, his touch leaving trails of heat wherever it landed. You could feel his breath against your collarbone, feel the way he fought to keep his control intact.

"You are holding back," you whispered, your fingers threading through his silver hair, tugging once more. "Why?"

Maegor growled, his hands gripping your waist harder. "You test me," he murmured, his lips pressing against your skin, his breath warm, teasing. "You have always tested me."

"And you have always loved it."

His eyes met yours then, dark and filled with something deeper than mere desire.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice low, dangerous. "I have."

Then, with a sudden movement, he lifted you off the table with ease, carrying you as if you weighed nothing. You gasped, your arms tightening around his neck as he turned, stalking toward his chambers with a determination that sent a thrill down your spine.

"Where are we going?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

He smirked, his grip tightening on you. "To make sure the entire Red Keep knows exactly who you belong to."

Maegor was never a patient man. You knew that better than anyone. And yet, as you lay beneath him, watching his fingers fumble in his urgency to rid himself of his armor, you couldn’t help but laugh.

His head snapped up at the sound, eyes narrowing. “You find something amusing?” His voice was a growl, low and dangerous, but there was a glint in his eye—a flicker of something that was reserved only for you.

You reached up, brushing a strand of damp silver hair away from his forehead. “Only that the mighty Maegor the Cruel is in such a hurry,” you teased, your fingers grazing along his jawline. “Where is your control, brother?”

His hands found your wrists before you could move away, pinning them to the mattress on either side of your head. The sudden force made you gasp, your amusement flickering into something else—something deeper, darker.

“My control?” He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “It is you who shatters it every time.”

You shivered as his lips brushed against your jaw, trailing down to your throat. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, his grip on your wrists tightening as your body arched beneath him. He was fire—burning, all-consuming—and you had always been drawn to the flames.

“I should make you beg,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with restraint.

You tilted your head, a smirk curving your lips even as your pulse raced. “And yet, here you are, trembling with need.”

Maegor let out a low growl, his fingers curling around the fabric of your dress. With one sharp tug, the fine material tore, slipping from your shoulders like silk.

“Careful, brother,” you purred, your breath hitching as his lips found the curve of your collarbone. “You might just lose yourself.”

His golden eyes met yours, dark and smoldering. “I already have.”

And then, with a force that stole the breath from your lungs, he claimed you—wholly, utterly, as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

Maegor moved with a brutal, unrelenting pace, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on as he claimed you with the same ruthless determination he wielded in battle.

His grip on your hips tightened, ensuring you had nowhere to go—not that you wanted to escape. Your legs wrapped securely around his waist, locking him in place. The motion made him groan, his head falling to the crook of your neck.

“Fucking,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, strained.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it was breathless, tinged with the heat coursing through your veins. “Losing control already, brother?”

His teeth found your throat in response, biting just hard enough to leave a mark before soothing the sting with his tongue. You shivered at the sensation, fingers tangling in his hair as he moved.

“You provoke me,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin. “Every damn time.”

You tilted your head, giving him better access, enjoying the way he took exactly what he wanted. “And yet, you always give in.”

Maegor pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “You will be mine.”

You smirked, running your nails down his back, delighting in the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. “I already am.”

The words sent him into a frenzy, his movements growing more intense, more desperate. His control—so carefully maintained in every other aspect of his life—was shattered here, with you.

And gods, you loved knowing that no one else could ever break him the way you did.

Maegor straightened, pulling your hips flush against him with a sudden, forceful grip that tore a sharp cry from your lips. He laughed—low, dark, victorious—as he held you there, refusing to let you pull away even an inch.

"Look at me," he commanded, fingers grasping your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

Your breath hitched, body trembling, but you refused to surrender so easily. Even as he held you, as he dominated you, you still wanted to push him, still wanted to fight.

"You think you’ve won?" you taunted, voice uneven but defiant.

His grip on your chin tightened ever so slightly, his smirk widening. "I know I have."

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of your submission. But Maegor knew you too well—he could see the struggle, the way your body reacted despite your mind’s resistance.

"You fight me," he murmured, eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something hungry. "But you want this. You always do."

Your nails dug into his arms, your chest rising and falling with every rapid breath. "And you need me to want it," you shot back, voice shaking. "Because without me, you're nothing."

His expression darkened, but instead of anger, it was something far more dangerous—something primal. His hold on you became firmer, possessive.

"You think you control me?" he whispered, his breath hot against your lips. "You think you own me?"

You smirked, despite the way your body quivered in his grasp. "I know I do."

That was his breaking point. With a low growl, he moved—fast, overpowering—his mouth crashing against yours as he silenced your defiance the only way he knew how. You gasped, but he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, pouring every ounce of his dominance into it.

Maegor would never yield. He would never bow. But neither would you.

And that was why he would always come back to you.

Maegor’s roar of anger echoed through the chamber as the heavy wooden doors burst open, slamming against the stone walls with a force that sent a gust of cold air rushing into the room.

You barely had the presence of mind to register what had happened before laughter bubbled up from your lips. It was sharp, mocking, delighted, because standing in the doorway, frozen in shock and horror, were the women who had once called themselves his wives.

Or rather, his former wives.

Tyanna’s dark eyes were wide, disbelief flashing across her sharp features as she clutched the doorframe. Jeyne’s hand covered her mouth, her soft, delicate face drained of all color. And poor Ceryse— hands curled into fists, trembling as she stared at you, at him, at what the two of you had become.

"What," Maegor snarled, his voice like rolling thunder, "do you think you’re doing?"

The weight of his fury struck them hard. Even Tyanna, who had always been the boldest, flinched under the intensity of his glare.

"We—" Jeyne tried to speak, but her voice cracked. She swallowed thickly and straightened, eyes flickering between you and the man who now held you so possessively. "We heard rumors, Maegor. That you—that she—"

Her words failed her, but the meaning was clear enough. They had hoped, perhaps, that the whispers had been false. That the court had exaggerated. That there was no way their husband—their king—could be found in such a compromising position with his own sister.

But the truth was laid bare before them.

You, tangled in Maegor’s embrace, your skin still flushed, your body still trembling from the intensity of your shared pleasure. Him, his arm wrapped around you, holding you to him like a claim that no one could challenge. The scent of sweat and passion still lingered in the air, thick and undeniable.

You tilted your head back against Maegor’s shoulder, looking at them through half-lidded eyes, utterly unbothered. "Now you come running?" you mused, amusement dripping from every word. "How pathetic."

Ceryse took a step forward, her body tense with rage. "You’re his sister!" she spat, voice shaking. "This is—this is madness!"

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Is it? Because to me, it looks a lot like destiny."

"You’ve bewitched him," Jeyne whispered, staring at you with something close to fear.

At that, Maegor laughed. It was a low, cruel sound, reverberating through his chest as he held you tighter. "Do you take me for a fool, Jeyne? You think I do not choose this?" His voice dropped into something even darker. "You think I would let anyone—even her—command me?"

Tyanna’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across her face. But Ceryse wasn’t so easily silenced.

"You promised me," she hissed, stepping forward again. "You promised me you would honor our vows."

Maegor’s expression was unreadable, but you felt the tension in his body shift—something hard, something dangerous. "And now," he said coldly, "I break them."

Ceryse let out a sharp, wounded breath.

Jeyne was the first to recover, her gaze dropping to the floor as she took an unsteady step back. "So it’s true," she murmured. "You mean to cast us aside."

"I already have," Maegor corrected, his voice void of any remorse.

Tyanna was silent. But the way her hands curled into her skirts, the way her gaze darted to yours, full of dark calculation, told you that she was already plotting her next move.

You, however, had no such worries.

Instead, you merely smirked, turning your face up to look at Maegor, your fingers tracing absent patterns over his bare chest. "Tell me, my love," you purred, voice dripping with mockery, "shall I have them thrown out? Or shall we let them stay and watch?"

Ceryse recoiled as if struck, and Jeyne let out a horrified gasp.

Maegor exhaled sharply through his nose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He liked your cruelty. He liked that you enjoyed this as much as he did.

But he was not a man of patience.

"Get out," he growled, his tone brooking no argument.

Jeyne was the first to obey, turning on her heel and all but fleeing from the room. Ceryse lingered for just a moment longer, her hands trembling, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears—then she turned sharply and stormed after her.

Tyanna, however, was different. She lingered, her dark gaze locking with yours, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.

"You may have him now," she murmured, voice slow, measured. "But we shall see how long you can keep him."

And then, without another word, she slipped away into the shadows, disappearing into the halls beyond.

Silence fell over the room.

Then Maegor sighed, pulling you against him once more, burying his face in your hair. "Fools," he muttered darkly. "All of them."

You laughed softly, nuzzling into his warmth. "Let them talk," you whispered. "Let them watch."

Maegor’s grip on you tightened, his lips brushing against your ear. "Let them fear."

And they would.

Because after tonight, the world would know—Maegor the Cruel did not love, did not belong to anyone.

But you… you were the exception.

Tag List : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @callsignwidow @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry

[ultravi0lence14]

BORDERLINE

SOLDIER BOY X SWEETHEART!READER

WARNINGS: soldier boy as a whole, mentions of drugs, crude language

SUMMARY: in a feeble attempt to thwart your crush on soldier boy, you decide to practice shooting a gun with him, realizing that the crush you have on him is on the borderline of obsession.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

the attraction you held for soldier boy was starting to become a problem.

it had been two weeks since you helped the boys rescue soldier boy from his cold induced sleep, and each waking second you were with him was getting worse and worse for your sanity.

although the man was a grade A jackass, he had this whit and charm about him that had you falling at his feet. it didn’t make it any better that he was totally hot. who cares if he was technically a grandpa, you were so far gone no one could bring you back.

you were gracing the borderline of obsession, and soldier boy would be a fool to have not noticed.

how could he not? you were always batting those pretty lashes at him, staring with those wide eyes when you thought he wasn’t looking, and always nervously biting your lip or stuttering over your words when he spoke to you.

ben thought you were adorable; with your glossy waves, short skirts and tight fitted tops. you were everything he found attractive, your personality just being the cherry on top.

so when he saw you, small denim skirt and tight tank top, making his dick harden, he realized that it was time to make a move.

you were staring down at butcher’s desk, looking at the gun he had given you to protect yourself. though there was a slight problem; you’ve never shot a gun in your life, and there was no way that butcher was going to teach you, even if you asked nicely.

“the guns not gonna bite ya’ babydoll,” the sound of soldier boys smug voice rang from behind you, making you stiffen. “c’mon, pick it up, i’ll teach ya’ how to use it.”

the apples of your cheeks reddened, slowly looking at the weapon and back at soldier boy. “you don’t need to do this ben, i don’t want to inconvenience you.” your words made his jaw clench. it wasn’t even the fact that you used his real name — a small gesture that made his stomach tighten. but it was the fact that you thought the mere idea of him helping you would be annoying to him.

you could never annoy him.

never.

you were the only person in this stupid group he could stand to be around.

“you could never annoy me, babydoll. now c’mon,” he spoke, reaching across you to grab the gun and stopping a breath away from your face, his nose basically touching yours. “you need to learn how to shoot, protect yourself from the fuckers out in the world.” he implemented his words with a sultry kiss on your cheek, the smell of weed and something distinctly soldier boy hoarding your senses as he pulled away and walked towards the shooting range in the building.

standing in place, your eyes were wide as you recounted what just happened. did he really just kiss you on the cheek? face so close to yours you could taste the earthy drug on his breath? it was all so intoxicating. so much so you didn’t even notice the man in question standing by the office’s entrance, a smug smile on his face.

“you comin’ babydoll? or do i need to haul you over my shoulder and carry you myself?” the imagery of your ass on full display as you were flung over his shoulder made the knot in ben’s spine stiffen, having mentally stop himself from getting a hard on as you walked sheepishly closer to him.

the walk to the secluded gun range was silent, your brain running ramped with how close soldier boy was to you; while ben tried to stop himself from pushing you against a wall and kissing you senseless.

as the two of you walked into the stuffy room, your eyes instantly roaming around to notice multiple targets with an onslaught of bullet holes in them. a long, stretching metal table to stand behind was glaring at you, glass panes dull without light reflecting off of them.

with a breeze of nonchalance and arrogance, solider boy walked over to the table and adjusted the gun in his palms. he fiddled with the clip, smacking it on the table and making sure all the bullets were in perfectly.

when he clicked it back into place, the man of the hour in your mind adjusted the safety off before aiming the gun upwards and shooting a couple of bullets at the target.

the loud sound made you plug your ears and jump in shock, but you also couldn’t help but notice how he landed his shots perfectly on the targets skull each time.

it was hot, watching him shoot a gun so effortlessly. yet you also couldn’t help but scold yourself at the thoughts twirling around your brain. how you wished he would kiss you senseless, be as reckless with you as he was with that gun while he pounded into your-

“get that pretty ass over here babydoll,” soldier boy grinned out, crooking a finger in a come hither motion. “gonna start our lessons nice and easy”

timidly, you walked over to the smirking man, gasping as his one arm snaked out and gripped your waist to pull you into him. your noses were brushing each other, breaths mingling as ben leaned forward and quickly nipped at your bottom lip.

no time to even react, soldier boy maneuvered your bodies so he was caging you in between the table and his body — his big arms wrapped around you in a snug and protective shield.

“first of all,” he started, whispering in your ear as you looked down at the gun in front of you. “this is how you grip a gun.” he showed you the proper ways to hold it, demonstrating and explaining through the proper technique as you tried to listen and not let your brain explode. “does that make sense, babydoll?”

his question caught you off guard, for you’d been staring at his veiny arms instead of listening.

with a sheepish nod, you grabbed the gun and held it in the same position he had. the feeling of his hands gripping tightly onto your waist made you coil tight in anticipation, and the ragged pull of his breath against your ear had yours catching in your throat.

“good fuckin’ girl.” he rasped out, the feeling of his smirk tickling your earlobe. “such a good listener for me, hmm?”

a sheepish nod filtered from your bones, leaving soldier boy to playfully kiss at your neck as his arms wrapped around yours. “now this is how ya do it.” he murmured in your ear, lifting your arms up while his big hands encompassed yours. “keep steady, aim straight at your target, and squeeze the trigger. though be careful ‘bout the recoil pretty girl. as much as i’m always here to catch you, i don’t want you hurting yourself.

nothing came from your parted lips as you focused solely on aiming at the target. nog even the feeling of ben’s hands gripping yours and his arms intwined around your body could shake the wave of concentration that coursed through your body.

with a shaky breath, your finger jumped to squeeze the trigger. a jolt thrummed up your arms, the ricochet from the shot jolting your bones.

you hadn’t even realized you’d closed your eyes until you felt ben’s hands untangle themselves from yours, palms going to your shoulders and squeezing tightly.

“look at you, babydoll!” he praised, lips brushing the shell of your ear as you peaked your eyes open. “that’s my fuckin’ girl! right on the money!”

it took you a while to realize that your shoot had pierced directly through the targets chest, hitting exactly where their heart would lie beating in their bones.

letting out a deafening squeal, you jumped slightly on the spot, turning around and throwing your arms around soldier boy’s neck. “i did it!” you squeaked, feet lifting off the ground as ben spun you around in his grasp. “holy shit ben i did it!”

“yes you did baby” he murmured in your ear, placing you down on the table and spreading your legs so he could fit in between your thighs. “and now it’s time for your reward.”

his skillful tongue dove into your mouth, lips mashing against each other as the both of you indulged in a heated kiss. whatever crush you had on this man turned into full blown obsession as he gripped your hair in one hand, using the leverage to pull your head back and leave trails of kisses down your neck.

this maddening lust you held for him wasn’t going away soon. especially after you learned what his tongue and fingers felt like exploring your pussy.

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @gibson-g1rl @deanangel @whisperingdaze @figthoughts @honeyryewhiskey @haunteres @foolinthera1n @ilovedeanwinchester4

NAT BABBLES: first soldier boy fic. . . pls be nice to me🥹

DIVIDER CREDS: @adornedwithlight

[aardelea]

How does he react to catcalling?

Hey there!

Thank you so much for your request, and my sincerest apologies for how long this took—I’ve been completely swamped with work and just couldn’t find the time to get to it sooner. I really hope the Anon who originally asked for this still gets to read it!

I have to admit, I struggled a bit with this headcanon. I’ve experienced catcalling myself, but never when someone was with me. And since everyone reacts differently and the circumstances are always unique, it was quite challenging to figure out how each character would realistically respond. That said, I hope the final result still resonates with you.

Since your lover’s reaction would largely depend on how you respond, let’s assume for the sake of simplicity that everything happens so quickly, you don’t even have the time to react.

Happy reading! 😊

You finally have some free time and decide to go for a stroll through the city—maybe grab a bite together or run a few errands. Since there's no convenient way for you to head there together, you agree to meet directly in town. The designated meeting point is a public transit stop, where you’re already waiting in a great mood, excited to see your boyfriend.

However, your mood quickly sours when a young man approaches, flashing you a sleazy grin. He whistles and, as he gets closer, says, "Hey there, sweetheart. Nice ass." He smirks as he walks past, completely oblivious to the fact that, at that very moment, your man is approaching from the opposite direction.

Jin

Frustrated that he wasn’t there in time to prevent the situation altogether, Jin doesn’t waste a second. He immediately steps in front of the guy, blocking his way.

The stranger halts in confusion, swallowing any irritation he might have had about nearly bumping into someone—because Jin’s icy stare alone is enough to freeze him in place. Without a word, Jin grabs him by the collar and yanks him toward you, none too gently. Whatever the guy tries to stammer out is ignored. Once he’s standing right in front of you, Jin simply states, “Apologize.” He doesn’t even need to use his Stigma—the demand alone is enough to make the guy comply.

How long this ordeal lasts depends entirely on the stranger. Jin won’t be satisfied until the guy is on his knees, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. And if he needs a little extra motivation? Well, a swift nudge to the knees or a none-too-gentle smack to the back of the head should do the trick.

Even if you try to intervene, Jin won’t let up until he deems justice served. Once he’s finally satisfied, he lets the guy go, casually drapes an arm around your shoulders, and walks off with you. “Never settle for second-rate. You’re worth more.”

Tohma

A true gentleman, Tohma takes care of his lady. No random punk is going to get away with dumping his unresolved perversions on you. He strides up to the guy, blocking his way with his usual unreadable grin. Outwardly, he looks calm, but inside? He’s absolutely seething.

"Well, well. What do we have here? Surely I must’ve misheard. It almost sounded like you said something wildly inappropriate to the lovely lady behind you." The guy just scoffs and replies, "Dude, are you deaf? Get outta my way, three-eyes."

Tohma sighs theatrically. “And here I was, hoping we could handle this the easy way…” You watch as he leans in and whispers something in the guy’s ear—something you can’t quite hear. When he pulls back, he’s still grinning, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. The guy, however, stands there frozen for a solid few seconds before quickly turning to you, bowing deeply. "I deeply apologize, ma'am. My behavior was highly inappropriate. I wish you a pleasant day." His eyes flick nervously toward Tohma, who only smirks and says, "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Without hesitation, the guy scurries off. Tohma turns back to you, offering his arm with an easy smile. "Shall we, beautiful?"

Luca

Luca is a man of honor. There’s no way he’d ever let something happen to you under his watch. That’s why he’s frustrated—no, downright disappointed in himself—for not arriving earlier to stop this from happening in the first place.

Without hesitation, he steps in front of the guy, blocking his path. “That is no way to speak to a lady. Not in Japan, not anywhere in the world. Apologize.”

"Dude, what’s your problem? Move," the guy snaps, attempting to push past him. But Luca isn’t budging. At first, he still seems composed—polite, even—but his gaze darkens with every second. "Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time," he says, his voice lower now. "Apologize for your unacceptable behavior. Or I’ll make you."

The stranger hesitates when he notices Luca’s hands clenching into fists. Begrudgingly, he turns to you, gives a half-hearted bow, and mutters an apology. Then, glaring back at Luca, he asks, "Happy now?" Luca’s only response is a cold, "I better not see you anywhere near her again." He doesn’t even bother watching him leave—his attention is immediately back on you, making sure you’re okay.

Kaito

Kaito might call himself a coward, but his actions tell a different story. When it really matters, he always pushes through his fears. And seeing you in distress? That’s more than enough to make him act.

Is he scared? Absolutely. Does the idea of a confrontation terrify him? More than anything. But will he let that stop him from standing up for you? Never.

Whispering a few words of encouragement to himself, he clenches his fists, marches up to the guy, and grabs his shoulder, spinning him around. "What the hell do you think you’re saying to my girlfriend?! Apologize!" His attempt at a deep, commanding voice comes out… well, more like a high-pitched shriek.

The guy barely spares him a glance before slapping his hand away and walking off with a dismissive, "Man, you’re nuts." Kaito, now fuming, yells after him about how he clearly has no manners and must’ve been raised by wolves. After throwing in a few extra insults for good measure, he rushes to you, wrapping a protective—and slightly trembling—arm around your shoulders. "Are you okay? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Please tell me you’re okay…"

Alan

Just as the guy turns to leave, he suddenly collides with something—or rather, someone. Hard. He stumbles back, landing unceremoniously on his ass, cursing loudly. "Dude, watch where you’re—" His words die in his throat the moment he looks up and meets Alan’s impassive stare.

The guy sees nothing but blank indifference. But you? You know Alan better than most. And you can tell he’s barely keeping his fury in check.

"Do you think that’s an appropriate way to speak to a woman?" Alan asks coolly, unmoving. The guy quickly shakes his head. "Then apologize." The silence stretches as the guy hesitates—until Alan’s voice cuts through the air again, sharper this time. "Now."

The guy scrambles to his feet, turning to you with a deep bow, stammering out rushed apologies. "I-I’m so sorry, miss, that was incredibly rude of me… I didn’t mean to…" Alan steps closer, his gaze still pinned on him. Once the guy finally finishes groveling, Alan simply says, "That’s enough. Leave."

As soon as the guy scurries away, Alan steps to your side, his expression softening just a fraction as he looks at you. "Are you alright?"

Sho

Even though Sho is usually a pretty laid-back guy, he takes your well-being very seriously. If you show even the slightest sign of discomfort after what just happened, he will react immediately.

In his usual relaxed manner, he approaches the guy, casually placing an arm around his shoulder as if they were old friends. With a not-so-gentle turn, he maneuvers the startled stranger toward you.

“She really is quite attractive, isn’t she?” With these words, they stop right in front of you. “Why don’t you tell us what else you find so great about my girlfriend? Please, I’d love to hear your opinion.”

Judging by how intimidated the guy looks while futilely trying to escape Sho’s grip, you almost feel sorry for him. Almost. “This is a huge misunderstanding. Seriously, man! I didn’t know she had a boyfriend!”

“I don’t see how that makes anything better. Come on now, apologize.” … “S-s-sorry.” The stranger’s stammering is barely comprehensible, and any confidence he had before is completely gone. After some further insistence from Sho, a somewhat coherent apology finally comes out. Sho then pushes him away with a “See? That wasn’t so hard,” before turning back to you. “You really do attract these kinds of guys like a magnet, huh?” he teases as he casually drapes an arm around your shoulders and starts walking toward the city center.

Leo

Leo knows exactly the type of guy with that sleazy expression and can sense what’s about to happen before it even unfolds. Since he can’t prevent it, he decides to take a different approach to protect his girlfriend’s honor. He pulls out his phone and starts a livestream—just in time to catch the guy’s sleazy remark.

“And this, my dear viewers…” He switches his camera to selfie mode, filming himself with a cheerful expression as he moves in sync with the stranger, casually throwing an arm around his shoulder so that both of their faces are in the frame. “… is exactly the kind of pathetic guy who thinks it’s okay to harass women. Say hello to our audience, loser.”

“What the…?” The moment the livestream comments start flooding in, the guy realizes what’s happening. Panicked, he wriggles out of Leo’s grip and bolts. “Looks like he’s suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, huh? So, ladies watching this stream—watch out for this guy. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

He abruptly ends the livestream, and by the time he reaches you, he looks visibly upset. “I seriously can’t take my eyes off you for one second, can I?” His tone is sharp, but you’ve been with Leo long enough to hear the concern beneath it. He glances over his shoulder one last time before turning back to you, wrapping an arm lovingly around your waist.

“Come on. You get to choose which restaurant you’re treating me to.” Before you can protest, he plants a kiss on your forehead, and for just a split second, you catch the softest, most affectionate smile on his lips.

Haru

Haru is naturally a peaceful person who avoids conflicts whenever possible. However, he also has a strong protective instinct, so he would step in immediately if he saw someone—especially you—being harassed.

Since he prefers a calm approach when dealing with people (except when he’s with friends), he quietly walks up to the stranger, placing a hand on his shoulder. His demeanor is more de-escalating than threatening.

“That’s really not a good way to treat someone. Don’t you think you should apologize?” Unfortunately, even the best advice rarely gets through to people like this. The guy angrily slaps Haru’s hand away and snaps at him to keep his hands off.

Haru sighs, watching the guy walk away with a disappointed look before turning to you and gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Are you okay?” He will spend the rest of the day trying to distract you from what happened, making sure to give you plenty of sweet compliments—careful not to make them too suggestive—so that this experience doesn’t taint your perception of receiving compliments in the future.

Towa

Since this scenario takes place in broad daylight, I assume Towa isn’t able to speak properly just yet. He may be a free spirit who doesn’t always follow societal conventions, but he immediately recognizes the situation unfolding before him.

Without hesitation, he strides toward the stranger, roughly grabbing his shoulder and letting out a deep, guttural growl (you know the kind of sounds Towa makes—there’s no easy way to describe them). The guy quickly yanks himself free and glares at Towa. “Are you out of your mind, attacking me like that?”

This is the moment when Towa’s gaze darkens completely, and as if on cue, the entire sky follows suit. Rain begins pouring down in sheets, and lightning strikes all around you. The stranger panics, breaking free and sprinting off to find shelter. You could swear the lightning bolts seem to follow him as he flees.

Thankfully, you’re standing under an awning, and as Towa approaches you, his intense expression shifts into one of deep, heart-wrenching concern. If you want the storm to subside along with his mood, you’d better reassure him that you’re okay.

Ren

One might assume that Ren wouldn’t notice an incident like this because he’s glued to his phone, but he actually pays much more attention to his surroundings than people think.

Annoyed, he puts his phone away and steps directly in the stranger’s path, visibly irritated. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You really think it’s okay to talk to women like that?”

The guy looks intimidated at first but quickly recovers his arrogance. “And who do you think you are, talking to me like that in the middle of the street?” Ren, unfazed, remains perfectly calm. He knows his height and build give him an advantage, and while he would never willingly get into a physical fight, he uses his presence to his benefit. He deliberately squares up to the guy, emphasizing the size difference.

Combined with the cold look in Ren’s eyes, his tactic works. The stranger hesitates, then turns back to you, muttering a quick, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” before slipping past Ren and vanishing as quickly as possible.

Ren smirks slightly, satisfied with the outcome, then walks over to you with a more serious expression and pulls you into his arms. “Just ignore guys like that. They’ve got nothing going for them except a big mouth.”

Romeo

No one. I repeat. Absolutely no one except Romeo himself has the right to throw any kind of compliments at his property his beloved. Especially not suggestive ones. Just because he always tells you to keep your head high and learn to stand up for yourself doesn’t mean he lacks a protective instinct.

Accordingly, one of Romeo's legendary outbursts of rage comes to light, which he directs straight at the stranger. "What the hell do you think you're doing, talking to my wife like that, you miserable piece of trash, huh?" Romeo wouldn't rule half of Sinostra if his demeanor wasn’t absolutely terrifying and intimidating. He will most likely have the same effect on the stranger. If yelling doesn’t work, Romeo doesn’t hesitate to draw his weapon. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s aimed it at someone.

Similar to Jin, he will make the stranger apologize in the most humiliating (and, for him, the most degrading) way possible. The only difference is that Romeo will keep shouting at him the whole time and threaten to ruin him and his entire family if he ever hears that he’s misbehaved in any way again. Even if it’s just carelessly throwing a cigarette on the street instead of using a proper trash bin.

As the stranger runs off, nearly sobbing and looking back now and then to make sure Romeo isn't following him, Romeo doesn't spare him another glance. Instead, he turns to you. "I certainly hope you’re not intimidated by such a pathetic maggot. Let’s go. He’s wasted enough of our valuable time."

Taiga

As Taiga approaches and observes the situation, an uncontrollable rage builds up inside him. He quickens his pace and makes a point of standing tall as he nears the scumbag.

Before the stranger can turn around and continue on his way, Taiga loops his arm around his neck while passing him, forcing him back in your direction with sheer strength. From an outsider’s perspective, the gesture might look friendly at first, but the stranger's face tells a different story as he realizes Taiga is just one move away from choking him into unconsciousness.

"Oh yeah, she’s a real cutie, isn’t she?" he says in a low voice as they both move toward you. Though Taiga's words are directed at the young man, and his tone carries an unmistakable threat, his gaze remains locked on you, a clear, sadistic grin on his lips. "Too bad for you that she’s my cutie."

He continues to push the stranger forward until they both stop in front of you. Panic is written all over the man's face as he seems to sense Taiga’s thirst for blood just as much as you do. Taiga releases his grip on his shoulders and instead grabs the nape of his neck, digging his nails into the man's flesh, making him stare at you with both terror and pain in his eyes. "Don’t be shy. What do you say when you’ve disrespected a woman?"

The young man stammers out apologies, becoming more remorseful the tighter Taiga's grip gets. He only stops when the stranger sounds sufficiently pathetic in his ears. "Do you accept his apology, kitty cat?" Your answer will determine whether the poor guy gets away with just a scare or spends the night in the hospital.

Ritsu

As we all know, Ritsu is the type to always carry both his voice recorder and his camera. As he observes the scene in front of him, he doesn’t hesitate to pull out his camera and snap a picture of the man passing by.

The guy looks at Ritsu in confusion, then walks toward him angrily, asking in an aggressive tone why he took a picture of him.

"I simply took a photo of my beautiful girlfriend," Ritsu replies to the accusation of photographing him without permission. "Unfortunately, there's also some guy in the frame who just made some inappropriate remarks toward her. What a shame." As always, Ritsu remains calm during the exchange.

When the man protests that "it’s not illegal to talk to women," Ritsu nods in agreement. "True. However, now I know your face. And if I ever hear that you’ve broken the law in any way—even if it’s just a parking violation—you can bet I’ll make sure you pay for it."

The guy stares at Ritsu in disbelief and suddenly looks very nervous as he abruptly turns and hurries away. Ritsu pays him no further attention and calmly walks up to you. Before greeting you as usual, he asks if you’re okay and thenoffers his arm as you both continue toward your destination.

Haku

Haku is a pretty laid-back and calm guy. Instead of resorting to physical violence, he prefers to use words. Nevertheless, he absolutely despises seeing his princess being harassed by sleazy men. And even Haku can get a little rough sometimes.

As he walks past, he places his hand on the stranger’s shoulder, turning him toward him. His grip is firm enough to stop the man from walking away. "Hey, don’t you think your behaviour was completely inappropriate? Do us all a favor and apologize to her."

Haku doesn’t have an imposing height or an extraordinary build, so the stranger probably isn’t too impressed by his words. He roughly pushes Haku’s hand away. "It’s none of your business how I talk to women. Do us a favor and scram." As the guy turns to walk away, Haku casually calls after him, "Oh, so I’m just imagining things when I say your grandmother is utterly ashamed of you?"

The stranger hesitates, turning back briefly, stammering, "How do you…?" before scurrying away even faster.

Haku then turns to you, making sure you're okay. Depending on your mood, he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you remember this day in a positive light. Casually, he drapes his arm around you as you walk together. If you ask whether he really saw the guy’s grandmother's spirit, he just smirks mischievously and says, "Who knows?"

Subaru

Subaru is a calm and peaceful guy. While he reacts immediately to imminent danger without hesitation, he has never been one to engage in open confrontations. So, in this situation, he would focus more on comforting you than dealing with the stranger.

Since Subaru avoids touching people, he wouldn’t physically stop the stranger from walking away. On top of that, he feels uncomfortable being recognized as an actor. Despite his growing fame, it seems to have made him more self-conscious rather than confident.

Nevertheless, Subaru is clearly angry and addresses the stranger with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "That kind of behavior is inappropriate and clearly made her uncomfortable. You should apologize."

"And what, you think you’re her knight in shining armor? Piss off." With these harsh words, the man walks away.

Subaru doesn’t waste any more time on him and instead turns to you with a concerned expression. Whatever it takes to cheer you up and distract you, Subaru will do it.

Zenji

Let’s assume that Zenji is alive in this scenario, as his current situation obviously prevents him from taking any real action. Although he is an optimist who believes in the good in people, he is not someone who lets others walk all over him.

At first, he approaches you with his usual cheerful demeanor, but his expression darkens quickly when he sees the scene unfolding before him. After hearing the stranger’s passing comment, Zenji strides straight toward him and deliberately stops in his path, forcing the man to halt and look at him.

"It is unbecoming to behave this way in front of a lady. You should apologize to her." Zenji's tone is unusually serious, and the look in his eyes is something you rarely see in your friend. However, the stranger seems unimpressed and asks Zenji what his problem is for suddenly confronting him.

"Can’t you see that your words made her uncomfortable? You still have the chance to make it right." Unfortunately, this type of person is rarely moved by morality, and Zenji’s words have little effect. Laughing, the stranger turns away and walks off.

Zenji watches him for a moment, his initial anger fading into slight disappointment. Then he turns to you, pulling you into a reassuring embrace and checking if you’re alright. He apologizes for not being there sooner, so you wouldn’t have had to go through this situation in the first place. Some people just seem to have lost their way.

Rui

In the past, Rui would have immediately confronted the man, calling him out on his behavior without a second thought about the consequences. He would have been firm but never aggressive, relying on his natural charm to coax an apology out of the stranger. After all, he considers himself a pacifist. However, if things had escalated, I doubt he would have simply let it go—and he might have resorted to physical force if necessary.

But things are different now, and Rui is painfully aware of it. Under no circumstances would he risk a physical altercation where he might, at worst, end up killing his opponent. That’s why he swallows his pride and sense of justice, standing by silently as the man walks past him without a word.

Visibly worried, Rui approaches you and immediately asks if you’re okay. The worse you feel after the encounter, the more it reflects in his own expression. He will apologize over and over for not being able to do anything, and no matter how many times you reassure him that it’s alright, he won’t stop doubting himself and his worth in your relationship.

You should keep in mind that this man would do absolutely anything for you if he could. Even though you are the victim in this situation, and depending on your personality, you might be struggling mentally as well, don’t forget to check on your partner. He is suffering right along with you.

Ed

How in the world did you manage to get Ed out of the house during the day? Or to get him moving at all? This must be true love. As he watches the scene unfold, a faint grin spreads across his face, and he eyes the stranger carefully while walking toward him.

"Well, well, a textbook chauvinist. I thought speaking to a lady like that was outdated. Don’t you think an apology is in order?" The stranger stares at Ed, perplexed by his old-fashioned way of speaking. "What do you want from me? You talk like my grandfather. Get lost." With that, the man turns away and walks off.

"Take care! Even in a beautiful country like this, it’s not as safe as you might think." Ed calls after him. The stranger briefly glances back, asks if Ed has a screw loose, and then continues on his way. All the while, Ed hasn’t stopped grinning. The way he watches the young man leave is eerily similar to a predator studying its prey before striking.

"Shall we?" Ed asks, holding out his parasol invitingly so you can stand under it with him. "Don’t worry. People like him always get what they deserve sooner or later. I believe you call it karma here." You already have a sinking feeling that what awaits the stranger has nothing to do with karma. Whether you choose to bring it up with Ed is entirely up to you.

Lyca

Lyca is still adjusting to life among humans and the social norms that come with it. However, he has had a strong sense of justice for a long time, so the moment he sees someone speaking inappropriately to you, he immediately steps in.

He tries to rein in his anger, as he has learned the hard way that people often fear him when he gives in to his wilder instincts. No matter how despicable the stranger is, he is still human, and Lyca has likely accumulated some emotional scars from past rejections. The last thing he wants is to add another one to the list.

"Hey, that’s not okay," Lyca says as he approaches, stepping directly into the stranger’s path. "Apologize to her." "And you shouldn’t just talk to strangers out of nowhere, so I guess we’re even," the man replies dismissively, turning away to continue on his way.

Lyca watches him go, and for a brief moment, you see him start to lift an arm as if to stop the stranger. But halfway through the motion, he freezes and lets his arms fall back down in frustration.

He clenches his fists for a second before relaxing them again and walking over to you. He asks if you’re alright, making sure to call the guy an absolute jerk for speaking to you like that. Even though Lyca sounds normal, you know him well enough to see that he’s deeply frustrated about not having done more. A few comforting words might help him.

Yuri

Coming from an well cultured background, Yuri would never allow a woman’s dignity—especially his own woman’s—to be insulted like that. His rage is evident as he turns to the stranger, his voice booming. "How dare you address a lady in such a disgraceful manner, you worm?!"

The stranger seems startled by Yuri’s sudden outburst but ultimately remains unimpressed. "No need to yell, man. I was just giving the lady a compliment."

"You call that a compliment, you simpleton?! Apologize at once!" Though Yuri usually prides himself on handling matters with a level head, it’s clear that he’s struggling to keep his composure. The stranger snorts derisively and walks past him. "What a lunatic…" you hear him mumble as he leaves.

Yuri glares after him for a moment before turning to you. With quick steps, he reaches you, protectively wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Pay no mind to that coward. Some men simply have no idea how to treat a beautiful woman properly."

Jiro

Jiro is unfamiliar with common social conventions, so there’s a good chance he won’t immediately recognize the situation for what it is.

Since there is no immediate physical threat from the stranger—who simply walks past after making his inappropriate remark—Jiro might just stare after him in mild confusion before turning to you and asking if you know the guy.

What happens next depends entirely on your reaction. If you’re visibly shaken or uncomfortable, Jiro will immediately pick up on it. He’ll ask you if the man did something bad to you, and if you say yes, he’ll offer to "take care of him"—which, knowing Jiro, would be done in the most terrifying way possible.

If you act as if it’s no big deal or say it doesn’t bother you, Jiro won’t push further and will simply continue with your plans for the day. However, if you explain to him what catcalling is and why it’s inappropriate—or if you struggle to hide your discomfort—he will definitely remember this situation. The next time something similar happens (though hopefully, it never will), he won’t hesitate to react much more… forcefully.