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fear-is-truth · 3 months ago

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# SUGAR DADDY! BRUCE WAYNE — hc

synopsis — your life as bruce wayne’s sugar baby warnings — suggestive. mdni a/n — if law school doesn’t work out… this is my dream career lol (exclusively bruce wayne)

he’s strict about keeping things low-profile. no selfies, no pictures together, and definitely no talking to anyone about your arrangement. but when it’s just the two of you, behind closed doors, though, his edges softened—not soft soft, of course, but as close as bruce wayne could ever get.

bruce is every inch the gentleman when he’s out with you—always placing his hand on the small of your back when guiding you through a crowd or escorting you to his car, a subtle but firm gesture that says, you’re mine, and i’m looking after you. he opens doors for you without fail, pulls out your chair at restaurants, and always walks on the street side of the sidewalk, even if it means switching places mid-walk. if you’re wearing heels, he keeps a steadying hand at your waist when you go down stairs.

even in private, he’s super thoughtful—draping a blanket over you when you’re curled up on the couch, pressing a kiss to your temple as he passes by.

bruce isn’t overly affectionate in public, but in private, he’s tactile and tender. he’ll pull you onto his lap while he works at his desk, one arm wrapped around your waist as his free hand taps at his keyboard. “just stay here,” he’ll say when you try to move. “you’re not distracting me.” though the way his lips find your neck every few minutes says otherwise.

bruce values your mind as much as your beauty, and he shows it in the way he engages you. whether you’re discussing a book, a piece of art, or the nuances of history, he listens with genuine interest. when he occasionally challenges your points, it’s never in that dismissive, mansplaining tone that most self-assured men use—it’s thoughtful and designed to draw out your best arguments.

he’s particular about keeping things convenient for you, so he’s arranged for you to have access to one of his apartments in the city. it’s fully furnished, with a stocked fridge, top-of-the-line security, and a walk-in closet he keeps replenishing with new outfits.

bruce’s love language is acts of service and quality time, but his wealth makes gift-giving his default.

has alfred handle all the logistics of getting you the best: tickets to exclusive shows, reservations at restaurants you didn’t even know existed, and private shopping appointments where he foots the bill without a batting an eye.

sends you on luxurious trips during your breaks—paris, tokyo, the maldives. you’re not sure how he pulls it off without anyone finding out, but bruce wayne always has his ways.

he pays attention to your interests and hobbies, subtly encouraging you to indulge. if you mention liking a certain author, musician or a brand, you’ll find their newest release or collection waiting for you the next day.

leaves his black card with you whenever he has to leave on business. “buy yourself something nice,” he says like you don’t already have everything you could possibly want.

bruce has an almost masochistic appreciation for how deeply you affect him. when you tease him. the first time you call him daddy, it’s in that girlish, playful tone, meant to test how far he’d let you get away with. bruce freezes for a millisecond, his face carefully blank, but the dark glint in his eyes gives him away. he exhales slowly, but the extra time he spends adjusting his cufflinks is a tell—you’ve gotten under his skin.

has a love-hate relationship with the short, tight skirts you wear around him. on one hand, he can’t deny how much they drive him mad, how his eyes inevitably linger on the curve of your ass, like he’s entertaining the idea of ripping the skirt off. on the other hand, he hates the idea of anyone else seeing you like that. he’ll chide you in that authoritative tone of his, maybe even smacking your pert ass for extra emphasis (when in private)

despite the chastising, the next day, he’ll gift you a collection of couture skirts and dresses that fit his exacting standards—form-fitting but elegant, sexy but understated. if you insist on being a distraction, you’ll do it his way.

he loves when you wear his clothes—especially his shirts. seeing you in something oversized and smelling faintly of sex and his cologne drives him insane. but he also loves taking it off you.

he’s not above making you jealous, though it’s very rare. if he senses you’ve been a little too independent lately, he’ll let a socialite or two flirt with him at a party just to see your reaction. when you glare at him from across the room, he’ll flash that infuriatingly charming smile and mouth, “come here.” the second you’re alone, he’ll have you pressed tightly against the wall. “you know there’s no one else for me,” he mutters between hot kisses. “but i like seeing you fight for it.”

has an infuriating habit of teasing you in public, keeping you just on the edge of propriety. he’ll whisper filthy things in your ear during a black-tie gala, his hand resting on your thigh under the table. “be good for me,” his thumb grazes discreetly beneath the hem of your dress, and when your cheeks heat up, he just smirks and kisses the spot beneath your ear.

the car rides are his favourite indulgence. he tells the chauffeur to take the long way home, windows darkened, privacy partition up, while fucking you in every position possible.

has a weakness for seeing you in pieces he’s chosen himself. the delicate lace, silk, and satin he picks out always feel indulgent, tailored to fit your body and his preferences. he leaves boxes for you to find, with a note in his neat handwriting: this one tonight

he buys you diamond necklaces and earrings so extravagant they could rival museum pieces. every time, he insists you model them for him—alone, in the privacy of his bedroom. “just the necklace,” he’ll say with a smirk, his tone leaving no room for argument. the sight of you standing there, bare except for the glittering gems, leaves him utterly speechless. and then he’ll step closer, eyes trailing over the diamonds on your neck before his hands wander elsewhere.

sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly indulgent, bruce will forgo sleep altogether just to spend the night making love with you.

he’s a perfectionist in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom. he’s meticulous about learning what makes you tick, and takes immense pride in knowing your body better than you do. precisely which spots make you gasp, which areas make you arch your back. steady and precise, he’s always tuning in to your reactions. he doesn’t rush, taking his time to explore, kiss, and touch in a way that makes you feel completely cared for.

he can go for hours, but he’s patient, too. enjoying the process as much as the end result—taking his time to kiss, to touch, to indulge in every inch of your body.

bruce is insatiable, but he’s also deeply considerate. though he’s always hungry for you, there’s never a moment where he isn’t attuned to your needs, making sure you’re enjoying yourself, always ready to slow down or adjust if you need him to.

loves leaving marks on your body, but he’s careful about where—always hidden, tiny traces of his presence on your skin that only he gets to see.

still, when he notices you wince as you shift in your seat, he puts on a somewhat sheepish expression, offering a murmured, “sorry about that.” but you can see the faint smirk gracing his lips, the flicker of pride in his eyes. it’s all a front—he’s anything but apologetic.

he watches you drift off in his arms, your breathing steady and soft, the rise and fall of your chest lulling him into a rare moment of peace. his lips brush against your bare shoulder, the small gesture as fleeting as the thought that follows—he doesn’t deserve you—but he’s selfish enough to keep you anyway.

tagging — @suumaer

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spidernuggets · 8 months ago

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Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Late Jason birthday fic!!!!

MDNI

warnings: jason devouring reader's poosay

You and Jason have been dating just under a year. And today was the first time celebrating with him the day he dreaded the most. His birthday.

If he HAD to celebrate it with his family, he'd want a small get-together, sharing his special day with Alfred.

NOT this damn gala that Bruce organised, seemingly just to spite him. Bruce excused that it was mainly for Alfred, but since they shared the special day, Jason had to be there, too. Now Jason feared the most; being surrounded by rich assholes, half-heartedly wishing him a happy birthday.

But you seemed excited to finally celebrate his birthday with him, and seeing you so eager made Jason's heart swell. He's just gonna have to suck it up and put on his big boy pants and go.

"You ready, baby?" Jason asked, coming into your room. The second he sees you in that damn black dress, complimented with red, he thinks he's lost it. He couldn't even take his eyes off the long slit of the dress that revealed a glimpse of your thigh. If you didn't answer him, he'd think he'd forget how to breathe because, oh, how you were breathtaking.

"Mhm, let me just put my shoes on." You say, taking his arm and leading him to the front door where your black heels with red outsoles laid.

"Is you being all dolled up my birthday present, sweetness?" Jason asked, a sly smirk on his face as he holds onto your waist, helping you balance as you put your heels on.

You chuckled. "It can be if you want it to be. But my actual present for you will be given later." You said, kissing his cheek. "C'mon, let's go."

Jason leads you to his car, and on the drive to the manor, it takes all his willpower not to let his hand that laid on your thigh sneak under the slit and inch up higher.

You held onto Jason arm as he led you into the manor. You expected big, but god, everything and everyone looked so extravagant.

You caught a glimpse of Alfred standing near Bruce and your eyes light up.

"C'mon, Jay!" You said excitedly, tugging him towards where the two men were standing. Jason groans, knowing he'd have to talk to Bruce, but on the other hand, he does want to wish his grandfather a hapoy birthday.

"Happy birthday, Alfie!" You exclaimed, giving the old man a hug before giving him a little bag that contained your gift for him.

He thanks you, telling you that you didn't have ti, but highly appreciates the sentiment. Jason offers a small smile and a quiet, happy birthday before giving him a hug.

"Glad you can come, Jason." Bruce said with a satisfied smile.

"I didn't come here because you told me to or because I felt like it." Jason huffs, looking away.

"Many people have been expecting you." Alfred said.

"And they have gifts." Bruce added. "I expect you to behave. But I don't doubt that she will keep you in check." He said, nodding towards you. You snickered in response while Jason just rolled his eyes, taking your hand, pulling you away from them.

You stayed beside Jason, watching as he uncomfortably mingled with the party guests, giving him his birthday presents.

It started fine. Totally fine. It was nice seeing Jason receiving such nice gifts.

But the more you witnessed him opening the presents, the more self-conscious you got about the gift you have yet to give him.

His given presents consisted of gold cufflinks, finest champagne, designer clothing, luxury cologne, fancy watches, and so much more. You couldn't even think about how much these things could've cost.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Jason murmurs, whispering in your ear as he tilts your chin up to look at him. You were so lost in thought, you didn't even realise Jason was complaining to you how much he wanted to go home.

You nodded with a small smile. "Mhm. Little overwhelmed, I guess." You said, clinging onto his arm.

"Maybe another hour, ma. Then we can go home." He assured you, kissing your forhead.

And it does assure you. He loves you. And he'd love the gift you have in store for him. But still. You're unable to scratch the utch in your head from all the expensive gifts he's receiving.

You sighed, kicking your shoes off, flopping back onto the bed once the two of you returned home. Following Jason around and watching him open gifts can be exhausting.

Jason shrugs his jacket off, throwing it somewhere on the floor, lying beside you. "So. You gonna give me a gift now or continue to keep me on my toes?" He asked with a grin.

You fidget with your hands, picking at your cuticles. "Mm.. can you wait til tomorrow?" You said sheepishly. Maybe you can wake up before him and rush out to the nearest jewellers and get him a nice watch or something.

His brows pinch together with concern, watching the dejected look on your face. He props himself up on one of his elbows, his fave looming over yours.

"What's with the sour look, sour puss?" He teases, poking your nose. "What's wrong?"

You sighed, looking at him. "Nothing. Just tired." You muttered.

"Bullshit.." He murmured, lowering himself down to nuzzle his nose against your jaw, his lips just barely grazing your skin.

You lightly groan. "You got really nice gifts." You said with embarrassment.

He pulls away, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Wanna elaborate, sweet thing?"

You whined with frustration, rubbing your hands over your face. "All your gifts were just so... lavish. Just wait til tomorrow, I can get a better gift."

"Baby." Jason said firmly. "Let me see your gift."

You frowned, knowing he'd pry and pry until he saw your gift. You grumbled, getting uo to reach underneath your bed, pulling out a small decorative paper bag, handing it to him.

Jason carefully took it, like he was scared that his big, rough hands would break the delicate material. He opened the bag, digging through the red shredded tissue paper.

His eyes slightly widened as he pulled out a bookmark. It had a thin gold frame, the bookmark itself having a coloured silhouette of what looked like you and Jason, and in intricate writing, the quote "you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you," written above the silhouettes.

"Holy shit..." Jason whispered as his fingers traced the fragile details of the gold frame.

You grumbled, not even wanting to think what he thought of it. "Jay, I promise I'll get you a better gif—"

"No!" He suddenly said, bringing the bookmark close to his chest. "I love this..." He whispered, staring at you with a wide grin.

"What? Really? It was only like 30 bucks.." You muttered, looking down at your lap.

He scoffed. "So? Who cares?"

"What!? But.. all your other presents—"

"Were shallow and thoughtless and were from snobby assholes who don't even know my name." He interrupted, carefully placing his bookmark on the nightstand before gently cupping your cheek. "But this gift, the one you're so worked up about..." He carefully pulls you on his lap. "Is the best I've received tonight." He kissed your forhead. "My favourite gift." He kissed your nose. "From my favourite girl." He kissed your lips.

You frowned. "But still!" You whined. But he shuts you up with another kiss.

"Not still.." He muttered against your lips. You hated the effect he had on you. You couldn't even argue as you melted against him, your hands lacing together behind his neck.

One of his hands gripped your hip as the other slid up your thigh, through the slit of your dress, just like he wanted to do all night.

Before going further, he laid you on the bed, his hands at either side of your face as he hovered over you.

He leaned down, lips attached to yours once more. This time, it was more sloppy and desperate, your hands pawing at his chest, fiddling with his buttons.

He helped you take his shirt off, throwing it over where his jacket laid as he travelled from your lips down to your jaw, immediately sucking on your sweet spot. You reach up to his hair, tugging it slightly as he groaned, his hips rolling down against yours.

"Fuck.." He muttered, his hands scrunching up the fabric of your dress in his fists. Being the feral man he is, he ripped your dress, the cool breeze nippng your skin making you gasp.

"Jay!" You squealed.

"Shh, I'll buy you another one.." He discarded the ripped dress with the other clothing on the floor.

"Up." He said, hands slithering under your back. You leaned up, letting him unclasp your bra. He cursed, his lips already around your nipple as you moaned, feeling his tongue swirl around it as his other hand was busy massaging your other breast.

"Fuck, sweetheart.." He groaned, his hands continuing to squeeze your chest as he trailed furthed down your body.

He stopped at your clothed core, your panties already soaked. He stretched the lace, letting go, making the elastic snap against your skin. You flinched at the feeling, your face heating up.

Jason gave the damp spot a soft kiss before ripping your underwear off, throwing it behind him. "I like this birthday present too..." He muttered, kissing your inner thigh.

"Jay, please.." You whimpered, bucking your hips up.

"Shh.. patience. Let me enjoy my birthday meal, hm?" He said, lips inching closer to your aching cunt.

"Jay.. Jay, I— Ah!" With no warning, his mouth dived inti your pussy, licking up the dripping precum like a man starved.

"Fuck, ma.." He grunted. You whimpered, your legs shaking, feeling his tongue lap over your folds and his stubble scratching your skin. "Tastes so good..."

You pull his hair, mixed sounds of your whines and squeals together with his tongue buried in your wet cunt filling the room.

You felt your core burning up, and your stomach twisting in knots while your legs shook. You chanted his name like a mantra, your head thrown back into they pillow, back arched, and your hips lifted uo further in his face as you came. Your eyes were shut tight, and you swore you saw stars.

You panted as Jason licked you clean, and when your eyes opened, there were black dots everywhere. Even looking down, seeing Jason's face stuffed between your legs made you feel like cumming again.

Jason hummed, crawling back up, kissing your lips as you tasted yourself.

"Now.." He flipped you two over, so you were straddling his lap. "I know you have another gift for me.." He said as whined, feeling his hard buldge beneath his pants.

okay. lowkey not satisfied with the way i write this but ermmmm... hope yous like it!!!

#mickeysideas #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd is my life #titans jason todd #i love jason todd #dc titans #jason todd titans #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x f!reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader smut #red hood x female reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood smut

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hisfavegirl · 3 months ago

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Dangerous Heart - Mafia!Maegor Targaryen x Girlfriend!Reader

Chapter I.

Maegor Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

The bed felt colder without him. You stretched beneath the silk sheets, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and reached for the other side of the bed—empty, as expected. You sighed. It was always like this.

Every morning, Maegor was gone before you woke. Whether he was in the basement dealing with those who had crossed him, or in his office drowning in paperwork, he was never here when the sun rose.

You weren’t surprised. But still, the emptiness he left behind was something you’d never quite gotten used to.

With a soft sigh, you rolled onto your side, your gaze landing on the nightstand. And that’s when you saw it—his black card, placed neatly atop a folded note.

Curious, you reached for the note first, recognizing his sharp, bold handwriting immediately.

Buy whatever the hell you want. —M.

A smirk tugged at your lips.

Of course.

Your fingers traced over the ink, imagining the way he must have written it—probably standing half-dressed, one hand fixing his cufflinks, the other scrawling out the note with that same impatient focus he always had.

Shaking your head, you picked up the card, turning it between your fingers. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this—left you his limitless credit card like it was nothing, an unspoken order for you to indulge yourself. And you would.

A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. If he thought he could keep you occupied with unlimited spending money while he was off handling his business… well, he wasn’t exactly wrong.

You stretched once more before finally pushing yourself up, letting the silk sheets slide off your body. The morning light cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the luxury that surrounded you—the dark marble floors, the expensive chandeliers, the view of the city skyline beyond the glass walls.

You reached for the phone on the nightstand and sent him a message.

I’m taking this as an apology for leaving me alone in bed.

A minute passed before your screen lit up with his response.

I don’t apologize.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could reply, another message appeared.

Spend wisely.

You smirked. Oh, I won’t.

For a moment, there was no response. Then, finally—

Brat.

You laughed to yourself, tossing the phone onto the bed before making your way to the bathroom. If Maegor wanted to play this game, you’d happily make him suffer for it.

After all, he was the one who had given you a blank check. And you were going to enjoy every second of spending his money.

The day had been indulgent, extravagant—just the way Maegor liked you to spend his money.

You had taken your time, strolling through the mall with an air of effortless confidence, slipping in and out of every high-end boutique that caught your eye. Silk dresses, designer shoes, limited-edition handbags—all of them now yours, their glossy shopping bags dangling from your arms like trophies of conquest.

Of course, with how much you had accumulated, it wasn’t long before you had to call in two of Maegor’s men to carry your bags. They followed obediently, silent shadows in black suits, their presence a constant reminder of whose woman you were. No one dared to look at you the wrong way. No one dared to approach.

And yet, despite the thrill of spending, despite the satisfaction of knowing Maegor would see the charges later and smirk at your defiance, your steps slowed when you passed by a jewelry store.

It was the diamonds that caught your eye.

Large, shimmering stones displayed in pristine glass cases, their brilliance reflecting the warm lighting. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings—each more breathtaking than the last. But it wasn’t those that made you stop.

It was the rings.

Your eyes locked onto one in particular—a solitaire diamond, elegant yet bold, set in platinum. A ring meant to symbolize forever.

A ring you would never wear.

Your fingers clenched slightly around the shopping bag handles, your once playful smirk fading into something softer, something almost wistful.

You knew what you were to Maegor. His lover. His obsession. The woman he spoiled, the woman he ruined in the best ways. You belonged to him in every way that mattered—except one.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how many nights he spent with you, no matter how fiercely he held onto you, Maegor Targaryen was not the kind of man who married.

You had accepted that a long time ago.

And yet, standing there, staring at something you would never have, you couldn’t help but feel the smallest twinge of sadness.

“Miss?” One of Maegor’s men stepped closer, his voice cautious.

You blinked, shaking yourself free of the moment.

With a sharp inhale, you pushed the thoughts aside, replacing them with your usual confidence. You turned away from the display and flipped your hair back, casting the bodyguard a cool, effortless smile.

“Nothing,” you murmured. “Just looking.”

And with that, you kept walking.

Because that’s all you could ever do—look, but never touch.

Not when it came to this.

The weight of luxury hung from your arms, glossy shopping bags filled with the finest silks, heels that would never touch anything less than marble floors, and jewelry that sparkled under the golden lights of the mall. It was enough. More than enough.

And yet, as you handed off the bags to Maegor’s men, instructing them to take everything back to the penthouse, you felt… unsatisfied.

“I’ll go to Maegor’s office later,” you murmured, adjusting the strap of your purse. “I have one more stop.”

The guards hesitated for only a second before nodding, knowing better than to question you. With that, you turned on your heels, heading towards the salon.

A change—something new. Maybe that would make you feel better.

The scent of expensive shampoos and scented oils filled the air as you stepped inside. The moment you were recognized, the staff rushed forward, their smiles wide, their voices eager. They knew who you were. Knew better than to make you wait.

As you were guided to a plush chair, fingers already working through your hair, offering you a glass of champagne, your mind wandered back to the jewelry store.

Back to that ring.

Back to thoughts you had no business entertaining.

You could almost picture it—Maegor standing behind you, his hands on your hips, pressing a velvet box into your palm. His voice, low and commanding, telling you he wasn’t asking, he was telling you—you were his, in every way possible.

Your lips curled slightly at the fantasy. It was almost laughable.

Maegor did not propose.

Maegor did not do tradition.

He claimed you the moment he decided you were his, and that had been the end of it. There had never been a need for rings, for ceremonies, for whispered vows of forever. He was not a man who needed the world to recognize what was already his.

And yet…

The thought refused to leave you.

What if, one day, he did?

What if, instead of slipping his gun into its holster every morning, he slipped a ring onto your finger? What if, instead of leaving you a black card, he left you his name?

What if, despite everything, he saw you as more than just his possession?

You exhaled slowly, shutting your eyes as gentle hands worked through your hair, combing through the strands with practiced ease.

It would never happen.

But the fact that you were thinking about it at all—that was dangerous.

Because wanting something Maegor wasn’t willing to give?

That was a weakness.

And weakness had no place in his world.

The champagne in your glass suddenly tasted bitter.

You had been sitting back, letting the salon staff pamper you, their hands working through your hair, their voices soft and professional as they suggested styles. It was supposed to be relaxing. It was supposed to be a distraction.

But then your phone lit up.

I have a meeting. Don’t wait up.

That was it.

No apology. No explanation. Just a simple statement, like you were a doll to be placed on a shelf until he decided to pick you up again.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around the stem of the glass.

Typical.

It was always like this. Maegor’s world revolved around power, control, and business—his empire came first. You knew this. You had accepted this.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

With a quiet scoff, you picked up your phone and turned it off without replying, dropping it into your bag with a little more force than necessary.

Fine. Let him have his meeting.

Let him come home to an empty bed.

Let him wonder where the hell you were.

You weren’t going home tonight.

A slow smirk curled your lips as you leaned back into the chair, tilting your head slightly as the stylist continued working on your hair.

If Maegor thought you would sit around and wait for him like an obedient little housewife, he was sorely mistaken.

Let him search for you. Let him lose his mind.

After all, you belonged to him, didn’t you?

Well, now he would have to prove just how much that meant.

The city lights flickered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the luxury hotel suite, casting long shadows across the pristine white sheets as you stretched out on the bed. The silence was almost deafening. No distant hum of Maegor’s voice, no sound of him pacing in the other room while on a call, no weight of his presence filling the space.

And that was exactly what you wanted.

You had taken every precaution to make sure he couldn’t find you tonight. A fake name at check-in. Payment in cash. Phone turned off and buried at the bottom of your purse.

He wouldn’t be able to track you, not through his usual means.

Good. Let him suffer.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling, the events of the day replaying in your mind. The shopping, the ring, the frustration that had simmered beneath your skin ever since you left the jewelry store.

It wasn’t just about tonight. It wasn’t just about the meeting. It was about everything.

About the way Maegor always expected you to be there, waiting. About the way he took and took but never gave the one thing you had realized you wanted.

Commitment. Permanence. A place beside him that wasn’t just defined by his possessiveness.

And yet, no matter how much time passed, no matter how fiercely he held onto you, there had never been a promise.

Just nights filled with passion, days filled with indulgence, and a bond that neither of you ever dared to put a name to.

Your chest tightened.

Damn him.

You turned onto your side, squeezing your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him.

Not to wonder what he was doing.

Not to imagine the moment he realized you were gone.

Would he be angry? Would he tear apart the city looking for you? Would he storm into the penthouse expecting to find you, only to be met with silence?

Or—

Would he not care at all?

You exhaled sharply, pushing that thought away before it could sink its claws into you.

It didn’t matter.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Maegor would have to live without knowing where you were.

The moment Maegor saw that his message had been read but ignored, his patience snapped.

The conference room fell into tense silence as he abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the marble floor. Every pair of eyes in the room turned to him, wary of the storm brewing behind his expression.

“Continue without me,” he said coldly, already pulling out his phone as he strode toward the exit. His men didn’t question him. They knew better.

The moment he was out of the building, he called you.

Nothing.

Straight to voicemail.

His grip on the phone tightened.

Again.

Straight to voicemail.

His jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck strained as his heartbeat pounded against his ribs, an unfamiliar tension crawling up his spine.

He wasn’t just angry.

He was livid.

Maegor had given you everything. His name, his wealth, his loyalty. He had made it clear that you belonged to him, that no one else would ever have you. So where the fuck were you?

He got into his car, tires screeching against the pavement as he sped through the city, ignoring every red light, every blaring horn. He needed to see you. Now.

The moment he arrived at the penthouse, he knew something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

Too empty.

His footsteps echoed through the vast space as he moved from room to room. The closet was untouched—your clothes were still there, your perfumes still lined the dresser. But you weren’t here.

And that was unacceptable.

With a sharp breath, he pulled out his phone again, this time dialing one of his men.

“Find her,” he ordered, his voice dangerously calm. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He ended the call and threw his phone onto the couch, his hands clenching into fists. His mind raced, replaying every interaction from the past few days.

Had he missed something? Had he done something?

And then, as the anger simmered beneath his skin, realization struck him like a blade to the gut.

You were punishing him.

For what? The meeting?

Had it been the final straw?

His eyes darkened as he exhaled sharply. Fine. If you wanted to play games, he would let you. But make no mistake—he would find you.

And when he did, you would learn that no matter how far you ran, no matter how well you thought you could hide... You were his.

The air in Maegor’s office was thick with tension. His men stood in a rigid line, their gazes lowered, their breathing careful, their bodies taut with the kind of fear only he could instill.

Another hour had passed.

Another hour where you remained unfound.

Another hour where Maegor’s patience—what little of it he had left—was crumbling into nothing.

"Useless," he spat, his voice dangerously low, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. The expensive crystal cracked under the pressure, shards falling onto his desk as whiskey dripped between his fingers.

Not one of them dared to move.

Not one of them dared to speak.

His jaw clenched, fury pulsing through every muscle in his body. You had never done this before. Never disappeared without a word, never shut him out so completely. And the worst part? You planned this. You knew exactly what you were doing when you left.

Fake name. Cash payment. Phone off.

It wasn’t just defiance, it was a challenge. A test of his control and that? That was something he could not allow.

"You have ten minutes," he growled, voice filled with lethal intent. "Find her, or I start putting bullets in heads."

The men scattered.

The door slammed shut behind them. Maegor exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, his pulse hammering against his skull.

Where the fuck were you?

Meanwhile, across the city, you lounged in a grand marble bathtub, bubbles swirling around your skin, the scent of jasmine and vanilla filling the air.

A flute of champagne rested between your fingers, condensation dripping down the glass as you tilted your head back, letting the warmth of the water soothe you.

The city lights outside your hotel window flickered like distant stars, and for the first time in a long time—you felt free.

No expectations. No demands. Just silence. Just peace.

You took another sip of champagne, swirling the golden liquid in your mouth before swallowing, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. Maegor was probably losing his mind by now.

The thought sent a satisfied shiver down your spine. It wasn’t often that you got to win against him. It wasn’t often that you got to deny him anything.

And God, it felt good.

You giggled to yourself, setting the glass aside as you stretched your legs, enjoying the warmth, the luxury, the knowledge that somewhere—somewhere—Maegor was furious.

Let him be. Let him burn. After all, he always said you were his. Now it was time to see just how far he was willing to go to prove it.

The roar of the engine echoed through the empty streets as Maegor slammed his foot on the gas, his grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. The city lights blurred past him, neon signs flashing like ghosts in the darkness, but his mind was focused on one thing and one thing only—

Finding you.

His jaw clenched, his breath heavy, his entire body pulsing with barely restrained rage.

Another call.

Straight to voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

“Fucking bitch!” he roared, slamming his fist against the dashboard, the leather creaking under the force of his anger.

This wasn’t a game.

This wasn’t funny.

You were his. His woman. His everything. And yet, here he was, driving through the city like a madman, calling you over and over again like some desperate fool, while you were nowhere to be found.

His men were fucking useless.

Hours had passed, and still, they had nothing.

Every hotel. Every penthouse. Every club. Every goddamn luxury boutique and spa in the city—nothing. How? How the fuck were you hiding from him? Maegor’s chest heaved, his mind clouded with fury.

And underneath it all? Something worse. Something he refused to name. Because what if? What if this wasn’t just a game? What if someone had taken you? What if someone had dared to touch what was his?

The thought sent ice through his veins, his breathing turning ragged. No. No one would be that stupid. No one would dare.

But if they had— If someone had dared to take you from him— He would burn this city to the ground to get you back.

His phone rang. One of his men.

“Tell me you have something,” Maegor growled, voice sharp as a blade.

“N—Not yet, sir, but we’re still checking—”

He ended the call without another word, his fury boiling over into something dangerous. Then, as he turned a sharp corner, his eyes flicked toward the towering hotels lining the boulevard.

Luxury.

Privacy.

Secrecy.

His hands tightened on the wheel.

A slow, menacing smirk curved his lips.

“Found you."

With one last press of the gas, he sped toward the nearest hotel, his pulse steady, his rage sharp.

Because you could run.

You could hide.

But there was one thing you had forgotten—

Maegor always, always got what was his.

Maegor’s steps were silent but heavy with purpose as he strode through the grand lobby of the hotel. The moment he entered, every employee froze.

They knew him.

They knew better than to waste his time.

One glance—one sharp, cutting look from his dark eyes—and the concierge was already typing frantically on the computer, hands trembling as they searched the registry.

"Room number," Maegor said, his voice calm. Deadly.

"Y-Yes, sir. The penthouse suite—"

That was all he needed to hear.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the private elevator, his presence so commanding that no one dared to stop him.

The moment the doors slid shut, his fingers twitched at his sides.

Finally.

After hours of chasing, of searching, of losing his goddamn mind—

He had you and you? You had no fucking idea.

You sighed in pure bliss, stretching your limbs across the vast bed, your skin bare except for the delicate lingerie that barely covered anything at all.

The city lights flickered outside, casting a soft glow across your body as you let yourself sink into the expensive silk sheets, a lazy smirk curving your lips.

Maegor still hadn’t found you.

Perfect.

You had won this round.

You knew he must be going insane right now—probably yelling at his men, punching walls, maybe even setting things on fire. And the thought of it made warm laughter bubble up from your chest.

Let him search.

Let him suffer.

Tonight, you belonged to no one but yourself. You reached for the glass of champagne on the bedside table, but before your fingers could touch it—

The lock clicked.

Your breath hitched.

Your body froze.

The air in the room shifted—the warmth of the suite now coated in ice as a familiar, commanding presence seeped into the space. You barely had a second to react before the door swung open, revealing the one man you both loved and feared in equal measure.

Maegor stood in the doorway.

Silent.

Still.

Deadly.

His suit jacket was gone, his black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the coiled tension in his muscles.

His face was unreadable, but his eyes—

His eyes burned. Not just with rage. Not just with possession. But with something darker. Something merciless. Something unchained.

Your lips parted, your heart pounding as he slowly—slowly—closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing like a gunshot in the silence.

He took one step forward.

Then another.

Your body heated under his gaze, your breath shaky as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, the delicate lace of your lingerie doing nothing—absolutely nothing—to hide the way your chest rose and fell beneath his hungry stare.

Still, you tilted your chin up in defiance, a lazy smirk playing at your lips as you teased— "You found me, huh?" Maegor didn’t answer.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

Then—

He moved, faster than you could react.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as he grabbed your ankle, yanking you down the bed until you were beneath him, his broad frame towering over you, his hands caging you in.

"You think this is a game?" he growled, his breath warm against your lips, his rage barely contained.

Your heart raced, your body thrumming with anticipation, but you still had the audacity to smirk.

"Wasn’t it?" you whispered.

A dangerous mistake.

Maegor’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured—

"You think running from me is fun, sweet girl?" A shiver ran down your spine. He chuckled—low, deep, predatory.

"Then let me show you just how much fun we’re about to have."

Your breath hitched as Maegor's strong hands tore at the delicate fabric of your lingerie, the lace giving way under his force with a sharp, ripping sound.

"Maegor!" you gasped, glaring up at him as you grabbed at his wrist. "That was new!"

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t care.

His chest rose and fell with controlled fury, his grip possessive, his entire body tense as he loomed over you, eyes dark and unreadable.

"You think this is funny?" he rasped, his voice low, dangerous.

Your lips parted, your heart pounding as he pinned you beneath him, his sheer strength caging you in.

"Maegor, I—"

"You laughed," he cut you off, his jaw clenching. "I was out there losing my goddamn mind, thinking someone had taken you, thinking—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "And you were fucking laughing?"

Your smirk faltered.

Because now, up close, you could see it.

The exhaustion. The restraint. The terrifying edge of a man who had been seconds away from burning this entire city to the ground for you and you knew. Knew that for all his cold brutality, for all his dominance and control— He had been afraid for you.

A pang of guilt settled in your chest.

"Maegor," you whispered, reaching up to touch his jaw, your fingertips brushing against the sharp lines of his face. "I didn’t mean to—"

His hand caught your wrist, tight. His lips parted—like he wanted to say something—

Then—

He kissed you. Fierce. Demanding. Almost punishing. A raw claim. He kissed you like he wanted to brand you. Like he needed to remind himself that you were real, that you were here, that you were still his.

And you let him.

Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, your fingers threading through his thick hair, pulling him even closer.

His growl vibrated against your lips, a warning, a promise.

"You," he murmured between kisses, his hands trailing down your bare body, gripping, claiming, owning. "You drive me insane."

You gasped as his lips traveled down your throat, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

Your fingers clutched the sheets, your breath still uneven as you lay beneath Maegor, his warmth still lingering against your skin. The remnants of his anger had settled, replaced by something quieter, something heavier.

But his gaze never left you.

Those sharp, piercing eyes studied every inch of your face, the way your lips parted slightly, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He was waiting.

And you knew exactly for what.

"Talk."

A simple command. Deep. Unyielding.

You exhaled slowly, turning your head to meet his stare.

"I…" You hesitated. How could you even begin to explain it?

His jaw ticked, his patience fraying. But before you could even find the words— he scoffed.

"I already know."

Your brows furrowed.

His expression remained unreadable, but his fingers trailed down your arm, a slow, measured touch that sent shivers down your spine.

"My men tell me" he murmured, his voice dangerously calm. "Standing outside that jewelry store."

Your breath caught.

His eyes never wavered, dark and unreadable.

"You were looking at the rings."

A single sentence.

A truth you hadn’t expected him to voice.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed in a way you hadn’t when he had stripped you bare just moments ago.

"I was just looking," you murmured, attempting to sound nonchalant.

But Maegor only tilted his head, unimpressed. "Liar."

Your chest tightened.

He shifted, his hand gripping your chin, tilting your face up so you had nowhere to look but at him.

"You think I don’t know you?" His voice was low, almost a whisper. Dangerous. "You think I don’t see the way your eyes lingered on those rings?"

Your silence was answer enough.

Maegor sighed, shaking his head before press his head over your shoukder ,"You can buy as many rings as you want," he muttered. "You know that."

You closed your eyes, frustration building in your chest. "It’s not about the rings, Maegor."

His jaw clenched, his entire body tensing.

"Then what?"

You hesitated.

"You know what," you whispered.

His silence was deafening and then— "You want a wedding."

Your throat tightened you didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Because he already knew.

A slow, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "You think I can give you that?"

Your fingers curled into the sheets, your heart pounding.

"You think a man like me can stand in front of a fucking priest and pretend to be normal?"

"Maegor—"

"I kill for a living," he cut you off, his voice sharp, laced with something raw. "I run an empire built on blood and power. I have enemies who would slit your throat just to see me suffer."

"I know that!" you snapped, sitting up fully now, your frustration boiling over.

"Then why the fuck do you want to tie yourself to me?" His voice rose slightly, his own anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"Because I already am, you idiot!" The words hung between you, raw and unfiltered.

Maegor stilled.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

"I don’t need a priest, or a fucking paper to prove what we are," you whispered. "I just… I just wanted to pretend. Just for a second."

Something in his expression shifted. Something you couldn’t quite read. Maegor exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair before muttering,

"Fucking hell." You looked away, suddenly feeling exposed, but then— his hand gripped your chin.

Firm. Unwavering.

Your eyes snapped back to him. His expression was serious, but his grip tightened as he lifted your hand, pressing it flat against his chest.

"Listen to me," he murmured.

You did. The steady, unrelenting beat of his heart beneath your palm.

"You belong to me," he said, his voice low, his tone absolute. "With or without a fucking ring, you’re mine."

Your breath caught.

"And I don’t need a goddamn wedding to prove that." A lump formed in your throat. But then— his thumb brushed over your knuckles, his next words quieter, almost hesitant.

"But if it’s what you want…" Your lips parted slightly.

He exhaled, shaking his head. "I’ll think about it."

Your heart stopped. For a man like Maegor, those words weren’t just empty promises. They were everything.

And for now— That was enough.

The moment was quiet now, the earlier storm of emotions settling into something softer, something undeniably real. Maegor rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady, his eyes shut as if savoring the feeling of you in his arms.

He said nothing.

But he didn’t have to.

You felt it in the way his fingers curled around your waist, in the way his body relaxed above yours, as if finally at ease after hours of restless, frantic searching.

Your chest tightened at the realization.

"You were really scared, weren’t you?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Maegor inhaled deeply, his grip tightening slightly, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

"You have no fucking idea," he murmured.

Your heart clenched at the rawness in his tone. Slowly, gently, you lifted a hand, letting your fingertips trace along his jaw, feeling the tension that still lingered beneath his skin.

He melted into your touch.

The Maegor the world knew—the ruthless, unforgiving crime lord—was nowhere to be found in this moment.

Right now, he was just a man. A man who had been terrified to lose you. A small, fond smile ghosted your lips as you let your thumb graze his cheek.

"I’m sorry," you murmured.

His brows furrowed slightly, his forehead still pressed against yours.

"You should be," he muttered. "You almost fucking killed me tonight."

A chuckle escaped your lips.

"That’s dramatic."

Maegor finally opened his eyes, sharp and piercing, but there was something else there too—something vulnerable, something he never let anyone else see.

"I don’t give a shit," he muttered. "You scared me."

Your heart ached.

"I know," you admitted softly.

He sighed, shifting slightly before flipping you over, pulling you flush against him so that your head rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong, but still slightly erratic. You pressed your palm against it, feeling every beat, every silent emotion he refused to voice.

"You’re never doing that again," he said, his voice firm, allowing no room for argument. You exhaled, your fingers lightly tracing patterns against his skin.

"I won’t," you promised.

Maegor remained silent for a moment before bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your knuckles.

"Good." You smiled. The world outside could burn for all you cared. Right now, this was all that mattered.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ashblooddragons

#hotd imagine #hotd #mafia maegor #maegor x reader #maegor smut #king maegor #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #hotd headcanon #hotd modern au #modern hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen

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prettyboykatsuki-moved · 2 months ago

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types of jewlery i think the bluelock men would wear once they go pro

isagi: usually doesn't wear jewlery. owns a thin silver chain and two diamond studs - but usually wears one. makes him look very boyish. not very into watches but wears one that's gifted to him.

rin: even less into jewlery but does like watches. for whatever reason i think he wears a cartier wrist watch - the kind that's all silver. that or vacheron. not much into anything else.

bachira: single gold tooth when he knocks his out. similar to shidou in wearing fun jewlery usually. more about aesthetics then showing off his wealth but some of his earrings are niche and designers. finds watches stuffy. lots of piercings.

chigiri: almost exclusively owns cartier jewlery. bracelets, necklaces, wrist watch - all cartier. looks gold in silver and gold so he has equal of each i think. has a brand collab with van cleef so has a lot of van cleef bracelets but it's not his personal style.

reo: rolex watches and a loooot of them. he's not really into anything else but his watch collection is nuts.

sae: patek watch + a few gold chains all in the same style. not much into rings. chains are more for style and he doesn't often wear them. prefers collar links for his suits to cufflinks.

oliver: john hardy + david yurman makes up most of his collection and unfortunately it all looks so sexy on him. prefers bracelets and rings but own a few gold cuban link chains with no ice.

kaiser: likes thin understated jewlery. platinum chains usually. he has like one chain with a lot of ice and it's a custom piece for his rose and thorns motif. wears a brietliling watch i think or some other swiss company. owns diamond studs and cufflinks.

karasu: likes wrist watches but doesn't favor any brand over another. see him wearing chophard watches maybe ? plain silver chain and two bracelets.

otoya: he's typical and i do think most of his stuff is gucci lmfao. so gucci watch + earrings. same thing with louis v. he's one of Those types. not companies known for jewelry necessarily but def brand name. the classiest thing he owns are diamond earrings.

barou: thick cuban link plain 24k gold + custom championship style ring also with ice. think he gets the ring from a very famous jewler (the thought of barou meeting johnny dang is funny to me. sorry). owns gold cufflinks and a gold watch. no silver in his collection.

kunigami: almost exclusively gold chains and almost nothing else. not into watches lol

#aristotle.txt #a.bllk #rin would look so sexy with other jewlery but he really only wears watches that compliment his closet #very greyscale lmfao

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beardedmrbean · 3 months ago

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Chicago cops blocked city inspectors from entering a curious “Gift Room” filled with designer bags, Hugo Boss cufflinks, a personalized Mont Blanc pen and other ritzy goodies that were accepted by Mayor Brandon Johnson, according to a bombshell report.

The trove of pricey giveaways are part of an “unwritten arrangement” that dates back 35 years, in which mayors can just write down gifts they received in a logbook and store some of them on the fifth floor of City Hall instead of reporting them to the Board of Ethics, according to the Office of Inspector General.

But the new report issued Wednesday outlines the numerous times investigators were rebuffed from learning more about the 236 gifts given to Johnson “on behalf of the city” since he took office.

An investigator initially posed as a member of the public to request the gift log while visiting City Hall last year, but was turned down and forced to formally make a request.

The covert official then filed the paperwork, but was ignored. Eventually, the mayor’s office handed over the information after the inspector general made the official request for all gifts given between Feb. 2022 when Lori Lightfoot was in office and March 20, 2024.

The log had incomplete information, but still listed hundreds of luxury presents, including the cuff links, Mont Blanc pen, bags and purses from Gucci, Kate Spade, and Givenchy and Carrucci burgundy shoes that are a men’s size 14

When OIG officials requested access to check out the room, they were met by Chicago cops who told them to wait in the elevator lobby, according to the report.

After wrangling between OIG and the mayor’s office, inspectors were told they would not get inside the room, the report states.

“Following that denial, OIG engaged in further conversations with the Department of Law (DOL) regarding access to the gift room,” the report states. “Ultimately, DOL – apparently representing the Mayor in opposition to OIG – communicated that OIG would not be granted access to the Gift Room.”

Other items appeared to be located in the mayor’s office, as well as other parts of City Hall, the report claims.

The mayor’s office told the inspector general in a memo last week ahead of the report being issued that officials could visit the gift room “through a properly scheduled appointment at the earliest practicable time.”

The mealy-mouth offer didn’t stop Inspector General Deborah Witzburg from slamming city leadership.

“When gifts are changing hands—perhaps literally—in a windowless room in City Hall, there is no opportunity for oversight and public scrutiny of the propriety of such gifts, the identities and intentions of the gift-givers, or what it means for gifts like whiskey, jewelry, handbags, and size 14 men’s shoes to be accepted “on behalf of the City,” the inspector general office wrote in its report.

#nunyas news

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livewithyura · 2 days ago

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Hi! I saw your requests were open and wanted to request headcanons with Lee Chaolan (The lack of content on him should be a crime- HE'S JUST SO- ✨💘💞💗)

Basically- how would married life be like with him 👀 The wedding day itself?! The honeymoon?! HIS DEVOTED ASS JUST BEING HIMSELF AS HE FLEXES AND SPOILS HIS WIFE?! CHILDREN?! DOMESTIC STUFF?!

Sorry if this is too many things to ask for in 1 post 😭 but feel free to add or remove anything 💕

Lee Headcanon!

Answer : Yeaaaa of course!! Omg I love this sassy man , The lack of content of this man? JAIL TIME . I know . Btw Omg your idea is very cute , I also can imagine he spoil his family and bragging how he love his wife to lars lmfaooo . And also I’m very happy to see a long request , thinking about how you spend your free time to wrote this much . Don’t worry anon! , I will make sure to fulfill your request .

Extra Notes : Uh I’m sorry for being inactive again , just having a writer block for one month . ( Just kill me )

Content : Husband Lee Headcanon .

The Wedding

☁️ 𐙚 . First of all, the venue is not “a” venue. It’s his venue. A custom-built estate on a cliff overlooking the sea. Cherry blossoms were flown in. The koi pond was designed to reflect the exact color of your eyes. No, he won’t say how much it cost. Yes, it was probably illegal ( Don’t do him wrong )

☁️ 𐙚 . His suit? Tailored within an inch of its life. White silk, silver trim, and cufflinks engraved with the date he met you , not the wedding. The day you became real to him.

☁️ 𐙚 . He wrote his vows in the middle of the night and sealed them in an envelope scented with your perfume. His handwriting is so clean it looks printed. His voice shakes only once during the speech , “You are the only thing I’ve never wanted to replace.”

☁️ 𐙚 . Walked down the aisle like he was in a cologne ad. Smirking and winking at guests. But the second he saw you? Full-body freeze. His smile become falters , His Eyes soften . It’s the only time all day he didn’t have a snarky comeback.

☁️ 𐙚 . He kisses your hand right before the “I do.” Trust me , It’s not scripted. He Just couldn't help himself when he saw you . ( Swears he blacked out for the whole ceremony , Don’t worry Lars and Alisa come to the rescue )

☁️ 𐙚 The kiss? Gosh just like taylor swift said ‘Messy top lip-kiss’ , ( He never ever let your waist free from his touch )

☁️ 𐙚 The reception is like a celebrity gala. Champagne towers. A live string quartet remixing your favorite pop songs. Lee makes a toast, obviously: “She said yes, and frankly, I’d have bought the moon if it meant she said it again.”

☁️ 𐙚 First dance? Hmmm of course it choreographed, dramatic, flawless. Did you rehearse it? No. But he makes you feel like you’re the star of a movie. Somewhere during the spin, he whispers, “We’re the best-looking couple in the room. Just facts.”

☁️ 𐙚 The wedding favors are custom perfume bottles ! His scent for the men, yours for the women. The label says “Chaolan & [Your Last Name] — Est. Today.”

☁️ 𐙚 When the night winds down and you’re both tipsy on champagne and adrenaline, he sneaks you away from the crowd. Just you and him. Quiet, under a thousand fairy lights. He presses his forehead to yours and says softly: “You’re mine now. Not just in love….in everything. Forever.”

The Honeymoon

☁️ 𐙚 Lee doesn’t take you on a honeymoon BUT he takes you into exile from the world. A private island. “My love , I don’t like to share”

☁️ 𐙚 Staff disappears after dinner. No cameras. No interruptions. Just you, him, and ocean views that cost more than some countries.

☁️ 𐙚 The villa has 6 bedrooms. You only use one. And the pool. And the balcony. And the hallway once, but he won’t shut up about it.

☁️ 𐙚 Every morning starts the same . He’s shirtless, lounging in bed, sipping espresso and watching you sleep like he’s in a Renaissance painting. “Wake up, Mrs. Chaolan. I require attention.”

☁️ 𐙚 Breakfast is served by staff at first… but by day three he’s feeding you by hand in a silk robe. The food is good. He’s better. “You’re not eating that alone,” he says, taking a bite of your croissant and then kissing the crumbs off your mouth.

☁️ 𐙚 Beach walks? Yes. But only if you’re wearing the matching outfits he packed for both of you. Yes, in my mind he’s a color-coordinated ! The entire suitcase. And Nope , you’re not allowed to ruin his aesthetic.

☁️ 𐙚 His honeymoond activity includes : Private massages that somehow turn into makeout sessions. Teaching you how to drive a luxury car on an empty runway. Taking slow-motion videos of you in the pool like he’s filming a fragrance ad. and said “Don’t act like you’re not hot, babe.”

☁️ 𐙚 He keeps showing off . Carrying you like it’s nothing, popping champagne with one hand, lifting you onto the kitchen counter mid-kiss like it’s just Tuesday . “I married the most beautiful woman on Earth. What else am I supposed to do? Act humble? Please.”

☁️ 𐙚 The soft moments are rare . But when they happen, they wreck you. Like when he holds you against his chest after you both laugh too hard and just whispers, “I’ve never felt this safe with anyone.”

☁️ 𐙚 You fall asleep every night to the sound of ocean waves and Lee murmuring nonsense into your hair. “Can we never leave?” he mumbles one night. “Like ever?”

☁️ 𐙚 In the end of honeymoon , he’s having this big dramatic urge to NOT go back to his daily life . Working . You: “You have work. Lee : And? I have you . Work can wait~”

Domestic / Marriage Life?

☁️ 𐙚 We all know Lee’s that rich uncle 💵 Lee spoils you ruthlessly. Call designer bags “just because,” custom dresses with his initials stitched inside, and breakfast delivered to bed by staff you didn’t even know he hired.

☁️ 𐙚 But he also folds your laundry. Makes your tea the way you like it. Runs your bath after a hard day and sits on the edge, still in his blazer, waiting for you to vent.

☁️ 𐙚 When he’s in meetings, he texts you updates like: “Boring. I miss your voice.” “How dare you look this good in my shirt this morning.” “I accidentally told Kazuya to f*** off because I was daydreaming about you. Worth it.”

☁️ 𐙚 Lee wakes up in Egyptian cotton sheets, silk pillowcases, and a wife. He never imagine he will have a family of his own , being H****** M****’s ADOPTIVE SON sure slapped him with a Trauma . Now He’s living the dream! but that doesn’t stop him from slipping out of bed early just to make breakfast himself. “As much as I'd like to stay in bed... or go to work and make more millions... I have breakfast to make for the two of you.” Yea , he says it out loud. To himself. Shirtless, in an apron.

☁️ 𐙚 You change his whole life! Lee’s house originally looked like a bachelor robot's and it’s so dull and full of messy things . Now when he’s with you , His house turned something warm and lived in. Throw pillows. Fridge magnets. Plants. He fights it at first. Then he starts buying the pillows himself.

☁️ 𐙚 “My love…What was the name of the scented candles that smell exactly like you?” “Lee Are you dead fucking serious?” “AWWWW COME ONN , I LOVE ITTTT”

☁️ 𐙚 Forehead kisses as he rushes off to work. Never forgets. Even if he’s running late . Suit half-buttoned, phone ringing in his ear , he always stops, tilts your face up, presses his lips to your skin like a promise.

☁️ 𐙚 Whenever he have an Expensive events , He always always going to drag you to be there . Dances with you in public. Fundraisers. Boardroom halls. No music? He hums it himself. “We’re making these stockholders jealous, babe.” “Lee ! They came here for business.” “They stayed for the performance.”

☁️ 𐙚 Paints your nails with terrifying precision. Will literally cancel meetings if you text him “broke a nail 🥺” — suddenly it’s Nail Emergency Protocol. “If I’m not doing it, who will? Lars? Lars’s a disaster.”

☁️ 𐙚 You once offhandedly mentioned liking a certain clothing brand. Next week, you find out Lee bought it. Entirely. “Lee…” “Yea?” “I told you to buy a jacket from them.” “I know. I bought the company. Easier that way.” “YOU BOUGHT THE WHOLE COMPANY?” “They were having a slow quarter~ I helped!”

☁️ 𐙚 FaceTimes you during the workday and doesn’t even say anything. Just looks at you while typing. You try to ask what he needs. He shakes his head . “Nothingggg . I Just missed your face my wife ~” and he wink at you .

☁️ 𐙚 When he’s had a hard day, he doesn’t complain . He lies in your lap while you read. Rubs his thumb over your ring like it grounds him. You stroke his hair, and he breathes like it’s the only peace he knows. “Do you need something My love?” “No need wifey~ I just want you . You only . Please?”

☁️ 𐙚 When you had a hard day , to make you feel better is on his ‘To-do-list’ . Never ever he let your sour , tired face slide in the house . “My love! I have one solution! How about I go out buy your favorite ice cream or snacks , take a nice bath together ~ anddd watch our your favourite show” and he done all of it , in just one day .

Kids?

☁️ 𐙚 You weren’t sure if Lee would want children. You’d never seen him around kids. But when your daughter was born, he shattered.

☁️ 𐙚 He cried. Not dramatic sobs — just soft, shaking breaths, lips pressed to her forehead like he was afraid to break her. She has his eyes. His attitude too, unfortunately.

☁️ 𐙚 “Who taught her to sass me like that?” you ask one day. Lee, from the kitchen, sipping espresso: “Clearly inherited. I’m innocent.”

☁️ 𐙚 He teaches her how to tie a perfect bow in her hair. Buys her her first custom blazer at age five. Cries again when she calls him “Daddy” in her sleep.

☁️ 𐙚 Probably would said “EXCELLENT I AM A BETTER DAD THAN KAZUYA” “Yeepp , Your first win against kazuya” - Lars “Watch your mouth , can you? 😊😊”

🪄Reblogs are appreciated ! Writtenbylivewithyura .

#tekken #tekken x reader #tekken x y/n #tekken 8 #lee chaolan #Lee chaolan x reader #lee x reader #tekken fanfic #tekken fluff #tekken imagine #𝘆𝘂𝗿𝗮’𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗸𝗸𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 #tekken fic

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