#it might take me a bit longer but i do have more plans for this au so please look forward to that when i do :)

[acourtofthought]

It's genuinely quite frustrating when certain fans try to dismiss the importance and buildup elucien has had due to their recency bias. Like I'm sorry elucien has been a thing since book TWO, if you really have been paying attention - you know THEIR book is next. Let's put some respect on their names and have some self awareness when it comes to your own ship biases.

I just think it's so odd that, when Sarah first started talking about wanting to write books for the sisters someday and was then signed on for the books, when she said "I know who the first two books will be about but I'm leaving open the third and possibly want to write a book set in the past", the fandom would have collectively agreed that during the release of ACOWAR, the first two spin-off books would almost certainly be: Nesta and Elain (with Elain's endgame being either Lucien or Az). During the release of ACOFAS, I imagine the fandom would have collectively agreed the first two spin-offs were going to be Nesta's and Elains with the only discrepancy being in her love interest.

So that means from 2017 all the way up until 2021, it was not talked about that Az would feature in the second spin-off with another love interest who wasn't Elain. But suddenly, all those years of Sarah plotting and planning on who the first two spin-offs were going to be about no longer mattered with the addition of Gwyn's character. Suddenly, there being someone special for Lucien (said in a Q & A) wasn't as important as there first being someone special for Az. Suddenly Az wanting his own mate means more than Lucien going through it with his actual mate. Suddenly Elain's story and trauma can take a backseat because a new character also has trauma and that's more important right now.

I'm not saying Sarah can't or won't write Gwynriel next but the mentality of why some think Elucien can't be next baffles me. Years upon years of there being setup for Nesta's story and Elain's story and that's all undone by one new character. When it seemed clear she had no real direction for Az in ACOWAR or the novella but because she now does, it suddenly trumps all else. All the times she talked about Elain's book and the research she'd done and the seeds she planted early on and it no longer matters? She might wait to go on a journey with a specific couple as she's writing their book but she still has an overarching plot in mind and certain characters have been connected to that overarching plot more than others since way back when. So why when she only now decided to give Az a tie to certain (new) plotlines (time-travel / discovering who once had TT), with most of it being in a different series, does that mean that he is definitely next? That his newly introduced possible plots have jumped the line so that Elain's trauma can wait, Lucien's heritage can wait, Vassa being taken back by Koschei? She can suck it up for a bit right? The Spring Court people are fine to continue living in a court that's falling apart while being ruled by a severely depressed High Lord so long as Az can figure out why he's got his special dagger.

If Eluciens story can be pushed back, then why can't Az's?

It's not that Az's book can't be next, it's the thinking with such certainty that he's definitely next with no chance for anyone else and they mock Elucien's for being delusional thinking Elucien would actually make a lot of sense for being next.

Yes, he was heavily mentioned in SF and yes, Gwyn was too. But what exactly would Lucien be doing in Cassian's book? Why would Elain be in Nesta's book when Sarah wrote Nesta as avoiding her and not wanting to see her? The one time Elain did head to the HOW Cassian told Rhys maybe it was better for the sisters to stay away and it's not surprising, when Nesta tried to blame Elain for being the reason their father was killed that she chose to avoid her after that.

Do you think Gwyn would have had as much page time had Nesta told her she was to blame for her sisters death?

Sarah wrote Elain out of the story so that Nesta could heal because Nesta was never going to become her own person so long as she was constantly watching over Elain.

Using the lack of Elain and Lucien page time in a Nesta and Cassian book as proof of something is an odd viewpoint. Do you think we'll have many mentions of Az or Gwyn in their book if Elucien is next? Or Elain's name count being high up there if Gwynriel is next?

And again, if people think Elain and Lucien's story can be pushed back despite all the traction they had in ACOWAR then why can't Gwynriel also be put on pause?

I do think Gwynriel is still a possibility, but not because they'd be the logical choice based off years upon years of what all the books have set up and her comments on the order of the spin-offs. If they're next then to me it really is because Sarah decided to chuck her original (fairly clear) plan out the window, where the spin-offs were meant to deal with the politics of after the war, and go in a wild new direction. Where time travel is now the more relevant plot for the current ACOTAR series though it was never the focus for the 4 books prior and never mentioned in connection with Koschei or the Human Queens before (it still hasn't been mentioned in relation to them). I do think it will be the direction she takes ACOTAR characters at a future point (maybe in an actual ACOTAR spin-off series rather than it still falling under the "Feyre and Co. ACOTAR umbrella) but it doesn't make as much sense for us to explore that just yet.

[herslvt]

< Little Family | Hongjoong x Black!Reader >

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Includes your child from a previous relationship! (Never letting this plot line go) I missed you guys ❤️‍🩹 I missed writing i missed it all!

Pinterest Link for pictures

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It's been a while since your little family has been able to spend time together, considering Hongjoong was always gone or taking care of idol business. It's safe to say you missed your husband, and your daughter missed him, too.

Hongjoong wasn't Sayuri's biological dad, but she loved him more than anything in the world. Some days, you questioned if she even liked you, even though you were the one who gave birth to her. You didn't complain though. Hongjoong was the father little Sayuri never got to have until now. Your ex-husband was completely out of the picture and didn't want anything to do with your daughter.

He left when your daughter was 2, 5 years later she doesn't remember him one bit. Hongjoong was her daddy and she loved it that way. But now you had a surprise for them both. A few days ago you went to the doctor and found out you were pregnant with your second child.

-------

"Baby can you wake up Say so she can get a bath" you nudged your husband. This was his first day off in a while and you were gonna make sure he could spend as much time with his family as possible. You also needed some time to finalize your plan to share the big news you received the other day.

He swings out of bed stretching a little. "Of course I can" he walks out of your bedroom not before giving you a quick peck on the cheek. You smiled at the thought of giving him a child of his own. He was so patient and so attentive with your daughter that you knew he was going to be a great father. You stay in bed a little longer before getting up to get yourself ready. "Mommy" Your little girl runs into your bathroom at full speed with the biggest smile on her face. "Daddy said that you said we're going to the beach!" she cheers making you laugh. "It was meant to be a surprise" You look at Hongjoong as he walks into the bathroom.

He holds his hands up in defeat. "I had to get bug out the bed somehow" he smiles. "Well now that you know the surprise you can help me and Daddy pack up the car!" You smile making the little one groan. She was starting to wish Daddy had kept the surprise a secret. While Hongjoong put Sayuri in the bath, you got yourself ready and vice versa. When he was getting ready you were putting new beads on the ends of Sayuri's hair. She was very particular when it came to her beads and barrettes matching her clothes; in this case her purple swimsuit.

"Mommy how long are we going to stay on the beach" she asks. "We get to stay all day" you smile at her. "So I get to play with Daddy all day too" she starts bouncing up and down. "Yes baby" you kiss the little girl's forehead as she giggles. Seeing her so happy warmed your heart. "Alright, my little butterfly go play while me and daddy finish getting everything ready to go" You pat her back as she runs off.

You walk back into your bedroom sliding a box from under your bed. This was how you were going to surprise your husband. You quickly place the box at the bottom of your beach bag before placing towels and changes of clothes on top.

You see Hongjoong in the kitchen packing a bag of snacks for the trip. It was a 4 hour drive to Busan and you guys had no plans on stopping on the way. "Don't forget Bug's Pringles, she might just lose her marbles again if you do" you laugh placing the can of chips next to the bag. He shivers remembering what happened last time you guys went on a trip and he forgot her chips. She cried herself to sleep in the car mad at her daddy for forgetting.

Places the chips snuggly in the bag before grabbing your hands. "I love having days off" he pulls you into an embrace. His hands resting lovingly at your waist. "I get to spend them with you and our baby" he kisses your head. The emphasis on our always made you tear up, he loved Sayuri like she was his. Your mind flashed to the baby you were now carrying. Your stomach began to turn flips as you thought about how you were going to tell him later. "I love you" You kiss his lips. "I love you more" he mumbles into it.

---------

The car ride wasn't bad at all. Sayuri slept most of the time. Her bouncing around the house this morning tired her out and you were thankful. You and Hongjoong talked and listened to music the entire way. It felt just like when you were in the early years of your relationship. Sayuri wasn't no older than 3 at the time and Hongjoong was driving you to meet his family. You smiled to yourself at the fond memories.

"Wake up ladybug we're here" you gently shake her awake. "I love how you have a new nickname for her every time" Hongjoong laughs more to himself as he gets the beach wagon out of the trunk. "She's my little everything" you smile at your daughter. She had at least 20 nicknames from you, while everyone else stuck to calling her Bug. Hongjoong pulled the wagon as you and Sayuri walked behind him. "Mommy mommy look look" she points. A snagged tooth grin covered her face. "Those are seagulls I learned that at school," she says proudly. "Good job baby" you give her a high-five. "You're the smartest girl in the world," Hongjoong says making Sayuri giggle. "Nooo, my mommy is the smartest! She knows everything, right Mommy!" You shake your head and smile. "Daddy's right bug, you're so intelligent even more than mommy" You boop her nose. She smiles, she doesn't believe you though, in her eyes you are the brightest in the world.

Once you make it to shore you help Hongjoong take stuff out of the wagon. "Don't go far, stay where we can see you" Sayuri nods eagerly before splashing her way to the water. "She's like a little firework that never goes out" Hongjoong chuckles. "She's gets it from you" you jokingly roll your eyes at him. "Come on Daddy we have to play" she screams.

You watched as Sayuri had the time of her life running around on the beach with her dad. Every once in a while you'd get up to join the two, but after a few minutes, you'd have to go back and sit. The little one in the oven wasn't having any of this tomfoolery, but you didn't mind sitting and watching your husband and daughter play.

As the sun began to set you managed to get the two of them to wind down. "I have a big surprise for you two," you say. You felt your hands begin to sweat as you pulled the box from the bottom of the bag. "On the count of three, I want you guys to open it," You say handing it to Hongjoong. He raises an eyebrow suspicious of what could be in the box. He hadn't seen you pack it. "Hurry hurry I wanna see" Yuri bounces up and down. If she bounced any faster she'd probably fly off into space.

1...

2..

3.

He takes the lid off and his eyes widen before pulling you into a hug. "Surprise," you say tearing up. "You're serious?" He asked. You nod. He practically hit a backflip. "I don't get it Mommy" Sayuri tilts her little head to the side watching her daddy cheer like a madman. "Mommy's gonna have a baby" you caress her little face. "A baby?" her little face had confusion written all over it making you laugh a little. "You're gonna be a big sister," you say hoping to help her understand. "Really" she smiles wrapping her arms around your neck. "Yes really" you kiss her cheek.

Hongjoong was practically in tears. He brings the two of you into a hug. His family was starting to feel complete. He had his two favorite girls here and now their family would be expanding. He was overjoyed at the news. He had so many questions but he'd save them for home. He wanted to enjoy every second of this moment.

[overnightheartbeats]

"Well, it might hurt me," she was quick to tease. Boosting someone's ego was not her preferred thing, and doing it for Mikey was already a kind gesture on her part. "Okay true, well with your fashion advice, I"m sure they'll be distracted enough." His smug smile communicated everything - he had noticed the momentary lapse, the pink hue on her cheeks that exposed her more than she ever wanted to admit. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, trying and failing to contain a smirk. The open, shameless flirting was just making her lose it because the more time that passed, the more she wanted to indulge in all of it. His words had a double meaning, she swore it, but she didn't answer - just smiled to herself instead. Gianna hummed in thought, "hm, it's definitely a compliment. Last ego boost of the day, so enjoy it," she confirmed with a wink.

Her breath hitched in her throat, looking at him to find the answer to breathing again. But, her words vibrated against her skin and she felt the warmth pooling in her lower abdomen. God. "Are you? Because, I'll gladly put you to the test," she whispered near his earlobe. "Anything he asked, Becca will do. Giving up the princess title for freedom? Hm, a tale as old as time." It was a good story, solid enough she thought. Who would question the things people did for love? And a starry-eyed, young woman would truly fit the bill. "Mhm," she hummed along in agreement with the observation. A small moan escaped her as he bit down, in a trance over the way he touched her and just made her come alive with each mark. It took her an extra minute to focus on his words in order to answer. "Well, I wouldn't say not special. But, honestly...it's refreshing to hear your ego isn't driving you to make a name for yourself." Perhaps, she wasn't explaining herself well. "I'm sure you still will, you have a spark we don't see often here."

The satisfaction on her features could not be hidden as he gripped her fingers. The stamp of approval was sending her into outer space. It was the reaction she wanted to keep evoking in him. "I never said I wasn't impatient," she admitted, quickly stealing a kiss before he got off her. "Jealous vibes makes the world go 'round. Would make people more intrigued by us, wanting to see why we're so possessive of the other."

Gianna sat up on the bed before reaching for one of the shopping bags on the floor. She rummaged through the items, grabbing the yellow dress he mentioned earlier. Short and skin tight, he was right. "Sounds like a plan. I'll have to change too," holding up the dress. He motioned to the bed and she bit her bottom lip. Was that a promise or delusion? She couldn't tell, and didn't bother trying to figure out the distinction.

He stepped away and she quickly undid her clothes to slip the dress on. Getting ready did not take long because it was as if on auto-pilot. Her mind was still elsewhere. On him. After some time, they made their way back downstairs. Their files now locked away in the hotel safe, and their cover story finalized. It was time to get back into the club.

"Did the card they slipped you mentioned what time they want you to be there?" She unbuckled her seatbelt, once again parked a street behind the club. "Maybe Alexander and Becca can scout the place a bit longer. Maybe we can find out who else is a...special regular of this place."

"It wouldn't hurt," he didn't need the ego boost but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy it. "That's your department. I'm sure one look at you and they'll be on their knees." He knew he'd be. His eyes zeroed in on her rosy cheeks. It gave her skin a very hint of color he wanted to keep seeing. A smug smile took over as he noted that came from him. From what he was doing to her. "Well, I'm sure something will bend," he couldn't help that low hanging fruit to joke about.

"I get down anywhere," a double entundra as it were. "Just name the time and place." There was something he wanted to figure out in her eyes. That hesitancy wasn't for nothing. Though instead of asking her point blank. He was going to study her whenever he could watch her without her noticing. In the months they'd been together, he knew one thing. Whatever she didn't want others knowing, she kept close to the chest. It was only when and only when she deemed it worthy to have the person know. Gianna was something else. A rubiks cube he couldn't wait to get his hands on. ( pun ). "Thank you, I think that was a compliment."

"I happen to be a great test taker," he hummed making the words vibrate against her neck. "You'd be surprised on what I'm capable of. Anything he asked? Even give up the princess title being a governors daughter?" The story they were working on made him smirk. Becca would have to be thoroughly obsessed to get involved with the ranks of this club. "She likes the thrill." It wasn't a question but an observation. As he noted that he bit down on her neck leaving a bright mark on full display for everyone to see. Like a vampire sinking their teeth in their latest prey. "I don't care to make a name for myself here. I do my job. Get in get out. There's a dime a dozen here so I'm not special."

He felt his knees buckle even though they were firmly pressed against her thighs. God she was good. If he could put her mouth to use he would. His fingers gripped hers letting her know how he liked it. Breathlessly he let out a soft, "Good," he pressed his lips to her skin and smiled. "You look great in that outfit." Feeling her hands try to wiggle out of his grasp he hummed. "Now, who's the impatient now." Though as he said it he released her hands and got up off her. "Don't think he'd ever look at anyone else. I'm feeling jealous vibes?" As both their skins were littered with marks. "Hot."

"I'll get our bags ready. I have to change. Though," his eyes looked at the bed. "Later." Was that as Mikey or Alexander. He didn't even dare to make it clear. Wiping her lipstick off his lips he licked it and slowly got up from the bed. Slinking his way up as his eyes never left hers.

[animaxvi]

runs around in circles ✨ Here he issss, tis ballet student Wiku 🩰 to go with contemporary dance student Sora 🎉

[adore-gregor]

i'm back on tumblr (again)

[from-izzy]

[00:35] | ATEEZ CHOI SAN

“And if I do?”

pairing » ateez choi san x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au

genre » very fluffy, falling asleep during studying and boyfriend san who is worried for you because you don't take the greatest care of yourself, (it really was supposed to be fluff all through the end) turns suggestive towards the last quarter of the story, reader is a bit playful, san is very in love with you, of course you are super in love with him too

word count; estimated reading time » 1032; ~4 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » quite suggestive at the end, indeed...a suggestive sentence at the very end, san lifts the reader up, reader wears glasses, reader implied to be smaller than san, san restrains reader's hands, pet names (bubs, baby girl)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

my ateez debut! here it is @jaehunnyy !! i really wanted to post smth for your bday so please take this as a late bday present 😭 thanks for proofreading a bit of this one and finding the pictures for the banners 🥰 you saved me a bunch of tears fr 😀 have fun with the second one (even though it's the same...😭)

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to be staying up late at night and for San to find you draped over your books and worksheets when he gets home. In fact, it’s becoming such a usual occurrence that San is making it a habit to open the front door with such gentleness that the click of the door opening would be too loud for his liking. In reality, your study desk at your shared apartment is quite a distance from the entrance of the apartment, so if San wanted to, he could enter in the same way as if you were awake.

But he didn’t want to.

In the rare case that you decide to snooze off on the couch, he doesn’t want to be the one to ruin your precious, peaceful sleeping time. Unfortunately for him, he would still be needing to do it one way or another if he ever finds you asleep on the couch or anywhere but your shared bed. The victorious smile from closing the front door quietly soon turns upside down, frowning at the sight of your head lying on your stack of handouts in the study room. The stack acted as your pillow, your arms around the rectangular pile. You look like you have been resting your body for some time now, given that San’s soft head pat didn’t faze you at all. With a slightly heavy sigh, San makes his way to the other side of the desk to get a better look at your face. He kneels on the floor, content with being more at eye level with you. 

He’s surprised to see that you must’ve been so exhausted that taking your glasses off might have been too much effort for you. The side frame completely rests on the paper, the nose pad of the glasses no longer resting properly on your nose. San hisses at how the hard plastic pushes against your nose, already imagining the pain when you wake up and realise tomorrow.

“Bubs,” he tests your consciousness with a whisper. “Your whole body is going to hurt when you wake up, you know?” Your breathing is still as even as before, and the no response from you deepens his frown. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to move you, okay?” 

San rises to his feet once again, grabbing the blanket drapped on your study desk that he has prepared. He’s told you multiple times to at least cover your body if you don’t plan to take a nap on the bed, but he should have known that when tiredness kicks in, all a person wants to do is to close their eyes. San spreads the light cotton across your back, kissing the side of your head and humming sweet melodies to avoid surprising you too much with his movement.

“San?” You slur sleepily, still unable to fully wake up. San clicks your desk light off and soon sees your content smile at his little gesture. “When did you get home?”

“Just a few seconds ago. When did you fall asleep?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” A raised eyebrow from your boyfriend is what prompts you to tell him the truth. “A little longer than that.”

San tuts disapprovingly, “You can’t keep slouching off on the table. It’s not good for your body. And this,” he takes your glasses off by the hinges, “it’s not comfortable for you.”

You hum at his loving lecture for you, beginning to straighten your back from the long nap. Truthfully, if San weren’t beside you right now, you would be sending complaints to your past self for dozing off at the table, your back cramping and sore. But Choi San knows you too well, and the creases between your eyebrows tell him everything.

“See?” He reprimands. 

You’re not given another chance to rebut when he swivels the chair around for you to face him. In a second, you’re in his arms, the back of your knee and back supported securely with his arms, and your shoulder pressed against his chest. San looks down at you, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead that you respond to by pressing yours along his jawline. Along the short walk to the adjacent room, you plant kisses all over his face, giggling at the way his cheeks grow red with every second. 

Just a few seconds before San would rest you gently on the mattress, you steal a kiss from his plump lips, arms wrapped around his nape and threading your fingers into the strands of his hair. San almost stumbles but soon regains balance when he registers the way you delicately take his lips. Along with the giggles and fabric rustling against each other in the small room, it’s not long until your head properly lays on a pillow. San doesn’t let you breathe after, climbing on top of your figure with his palms beside your head to support himself. His knees sink to the mattress beside your thighs, and you’re left breathless with the man before you. The remnants of his cologne are clearer now, and the proximity leaves you curling up a side of your lips.

Your boyfriend knows the meaning of your expression well from experience. “Don’t rile me up, baby girl…”

Just like he did a second ago, your eyebrow rises. Your pointer traces along the center of his exposed neck, feeling the gulp and his intense stare on you. You glide across his skin, tracing along his collarbones slowly, making sure that your touch lingers on his skin. When your finger slides down to the neckline of his fabric, it curls around his shirt to pull his tense expression closer to you. A quick touch of your lips is all you spare him before regaining eye contact with him.

“And if I do?”

Those words are enough for San to lose control, pulling the sheets to his palms as he fists them tightly. One hand leaves the bed, restraining both your wrists under his hold above your head. He dives closer to the crook of your neck, ragged breathing and warm breath against your skin.

“I’ll make sure you’ll sleep peacefully for days.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @blossomnet

@haneul-and-clouds @jaehunnyy @mars101

[missadangel]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 1: Blind Date

series masterlist

Summary: You work as a housekeeper in a rich family's mansion and often have to deal with their spoiled daughter. One day, she asks you to pretend to be her on a blind date with a guy her dad picked out for her. Your mission is to make him not like you so he won't want to marry her. But here's the twist: will Harry end up hating you, or could he actually fall for you? That's the real question. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Word Count: 4.8k for now, There will be a part two if you guys like it, but I'm not sure about the rest. Sorry for the poor writing; that was quick. authors note: I am not sure about his name. If there's any update, I will edit. English is not my native, so please be nice; this is my third fanfiction. Thank you for the reblogs, comments, and likes. Love you all!

"Ugh, this dress is so last season! Are you serious? Everything here is out of style—get rid of them! Call Elliot and have them send me another dress, or I'm going to be really pissed!"

As if tossed at you like a used handkerchief, another dress worth thousands of dollars—perhaps only worn once—landed in your hands. You sighed as you looked at the elegant dress you were now holding, the Gucci label glinting under the light.

"Story of my life," you mumbled.

Working as a housekeeper in a millionaire's house was hard enough, but dealing with his spoiled and ill-tempered daughter was exhausting. Yet you were determined that it would soon be over. You could no longer endure this physical and psychological torture. With the money you had saved, you planned to open your own restaurant—fulfilling your dream. You just needed to save a little more and hang in there a bit longer.

Your boss was a decent, kind man, but his daughter was so unbearable that every housekeeper assigned left the next day.

How do you even tolerate her? 

Because you didn’t have the luxury of quitting and waiting for a new job. You were still young and trying to establish yourself in the business. The extra pay you received was simply to endure her antics. Your kind millionaire boss had even promised you all the support you needed, suggesting you could quit your day job and focus solely on managing his daughter’s affairs. But how could you have known it would be so challenging? Still, you managed to get through each day and believed you could endure this for just a little while longer. After all, you had survived three challenging years already, right?

The mansion was enormous, and everything inside was meticulously organized. Everyone—housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, and even the owners—followed a disciplined daily routine. 

Except for the young lady of the house.

You never knew when she would wake up or come downstairs to join her family at the dinner table. She was stubborn, mean, and unpredictable, and you had to manage her behavior just as you managed her dresses, her dates, and her friends. Because you were responsible for her, there were times when you wished you could handle all the housework yourself and let someone else take care of her demands. Despite being just an ordinary housekeeper, your name was the one that echoed the most throughout this vast mansion.

Why? 

Because the young lady constantly called on you to fulfill her never-ending requests. And it was one of those moments again. Since it was evening, you guessed she was probably getting ready for a night out at the club, and you felt a surge of annoyance as you rushed to her room.

"I can't believe I was a size 8 before starting this job; now I'm down to a size 6," you mumbled to yourself, quickly making your way up the stairs.

One of the cleaners dusting the vases in the hallway shot you a wink and let out a sigh. Man, you’d do just about anything to be in her shoes, just taking care of that vase!

As soon as you knocked on the door, the young lady Melanie opened it, pulled you inside by the arm, and slammed the door shut behind you. You were taken aback—had you made a mistake? It had only been two hours since you last saw her; you had picked up her clothes off the floor and taken them to the laundry room. She had seemed content, busy texting on her phone. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your eyes wide. For some reason, she looked super tense and nervous.  

“You’ve gotta help me,” she said almost desperately, which caught you off guard; it was pretty rare for her to ask for help like this, very rare.  

“Of course, if I know what’s going on…” 

“Remember that thing we did with the senator's son? I need you to do something like that again.”

You froze for a moment. She was referring to something you had helped her with before—something you weren't very proud of.

“Oh, but—” you frowned. “You said I’d never have to do anything like that again.”

Years ago, you had done your best to disguise yourself as Melanie to turn off the senator's son and prevent him from marrying her. It had worked, but lying to someone was a real headache. Thankfully, Melanie's father hadn’t suspected a thing, but the thought of risking it again felt scarier than anything else.

“I know, I know, but I’m in a tough spot. My dad has been speaking with a matchmaker again to arrange a match for me. After the scandal at the club last time, he's determined to marry me off for sure. Please, I need your help.”

How could she still act so childish in her late twenties? As she looked at you with those pleading eyes, memories of all the times she’d yelled at you and scolded you flashed in your mind. It was fine when you were more like her special assistant instead of just a housekeeper, but now it feels like you’re just a toy to her. When she wants to have fun, she plays with you—almost like you’re her little slave or something.

“I’m not here for that,” you said firmly. “That is not my job.” Your patience was running thin, and this was just too much.  

“But you’re supposed to help me,” she shot back, stubborn as ever. “And it’ll be easier this time, I promise.” 

You narrowed your eyes and said, “We got caught last time when the guy found out and cursed both of us. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? And if your father discovers what we’re up to this time…”

She replied with a grin, “We won’t get caught this time because I already sent them my photo instead of yours. Besides, you know how my father is strict about always having my picture removed from newspapers and magazines.”

“You did what?” you wailed.

“Chill, it’s all figured out. I’ve been working on this since last week. You’ll have dinner with the guy, pretend to be me, scare him off, and boom! He won’t want to hear my name again. Easy peasy!”  

You rolled your eyes. “But he’s surely seen your photo somewhere; he can’t be that clueless.”  

“No, he’s a very busy businessman. He has lived abroad for years and has just returned from France. He’s looking to set up his business here in New York,” she said as she opened her laptop and pulled up a webpage with information about the man. “It seems he’s also looking for a suitable match,” she continued, glancing at his photo and pursing her lips.

You froze when you looked at the photo; he wasn’t at all what you expected. He appeared to be a mature, charismatic, and intelligent man. But how could you sit opposite this man and pretend to be someone else? The thought made you shudder, raising the tiny hairs on the back of your neck.  

“As you can see, he’s much older than me. I don’t think he’ll tolerate disrespect. If you’re disrespectful to him, he might get annoyed and just leave the table,” she said with a chuckle.

You laughed too, but for a different reason. You were sure that if she went to the meeting herself, he would get up and leave when he saw her personality.  

“I think you should go; maybe he won’t like you,” you suggested.  

She narrowed her eyes at you like she'd just caught you saying something crazy. “He won’t like me? Seriously?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a cocky grin. “Anyway, I can’t risk it. I don’t want to marry him or anyone else, and I definitely don’t want to be stuck in the same room with that old man.” 

As if I want it so much, you thought.  

“Come on, please do this for me! I promise I’ll be good; I won’t make you work too hard. I’ll ask Dad to give you a nice raise,” she said, clasping her hands together and trying to look cute.  

Well, good raise would mean you could quit your job and bail out of here earlier, right? You crossed your arms and glanced back at the laptop screen, staring at the photo of that guy—Harry Castillo. You made a decision that you had no idea would change everything in both his life and yours.

“Fine. When’s dinner?” you said, feeling a bit anxious.  

“Oh, you’re the best! I knew you couldn’t say no!” she said excitedly. “This Saturday.”  

“But that’s only two days away,” you pointed out, feeling even more nervous.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all set. Just make sure you displease him,” she grinned.  

You sighed deeply, already sure you’d regret this choice.

“Don’t you think this dress is a bit… exaggerated?” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.  

It was an elegant burgundy dress—strappy, satin, and adorned with pearl details���the kind of designer item you could never afford, even if you worked your entire life.  

“Am I trying to make him hate me or make him fall for me?” you asked, frowning.  

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry; he’ll never fall in love with you,” she said arrogantly. This was typical behavior for her, so you chose to ignore it. “As much as you want to annoy him, remember that you represent me. I don’t want anyone gossiping that Melanie Johanson is wearing a lame dress,” she continued while picking out a matching purse.  

“But everyone knows I’m not you, except that poor guy.”  

“I don’t suppose you were planning to wear one of your own skimpy outfits,” she remarked. “Do you want our game to be exposed?”  

That was too much—being scolded and being forced to do something so ridiculous for this spoiled girl.  

“Fine, go to that dinner yourself then,” you said, slipping off your heels.  

She grabbed your arms. “No, no, no, please. Okay, I’m sorry I was rude. But I need you; no one else would do something like this for me.”  

“It’s good that you realize that,” you muttered.  

“Here, take this; it’s time,” she said, giving you a smile.  

Honestly, putting up with Melanie’s constant demands, cleaning up after her, and covering for her felt like child’s play compared to what you were facing tonight. 

A nice raise, you keep telling yourself trying to soothe yourself. I’m doing this for my restaurant; I’ll get it started someday.

The restaurant was one of the most famous, expensive, and luxurious places in New York—somewhere you would never normally set foot in. But tonight, thanks to Melanie’s name, you could easily get in. You were overwhelmed by the incredibly polite behavior of the restaurant staff.  

Melanie may have been extravagant and reckless, but she had thought of almost everything for tonight—from the driver who brought you here to the all restaurant staff. 

All this effort was for one purpose: to rid herself of the matchmaker’s match.  

When they took your fur coat at the entrance and told you that Mr. Castillo was waiting for you, you took a deep breath. After one step inside, when you saw him, you nearly backed away. Harry was busy on his phone, scribbling notes in his small notebook. He looked really sharp and stylish—way more handsome and appealing than in the photo.

Damn.  

You wanted to escape; you wished to put an end to this nonsense before it even began. Without realizing it, your feet started to move backward. Just then, you turned around and accidentally bumped into the waiter behind you, causing him to drop the champagne glasses he was carrying on his tray. The glasses shattered, and champagne spilled all over his outfit. You cursed yourself for the mishap.

Before you could even respond, the waiter apologized. “No, it was my fault; I’m sorry,” you said nervously, trying to wipe off the champagne from his clothes.

The other waiter and the staff stared at you in shock. 

Yes, you were a wealthy lady now, but what harm was there in being polite?

"No, ma'am, I should have been more careful," he said before turning and walking away.

"Miss Johnson?" said a soft, deep voice. 

You turned around to meet him and felt almost breathless. There he was, few inches taller than you, with broad shoulders, curly hair, deep-set brown eyes, a sharp nose, and an attractive appearance. 

"Melanie, right?" 

"Y-yes," you stammered, batting your eyelashes. 

And that smile! For a moment, the world seemed to stop; all the sounds in the restaurant faded, and you almost forgot why you were there. 

"I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand. It took you so long to look at his face that you nearly forgot to acknowledge his hand. He laughed again, that wonderful smile lighting up his face. "My hand has been waiting for a while," he said teasingly. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you realized what he meant. "I'm sorry," you replied, quickly reaching out to shake his waiting hand. His hand was big and warm. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. You knew you needed to work up the courage. 

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Shall we head to our table? Or do you want to stay here all night?” 

“S-sure,” you said sheepishly. 

Well, there wasn't much you could do about it. This wasn't just about him being wealthy or handsome. Even if it was a fake date, it had been years since you'd been on a date, and you didn’t know many men in your life. 

Dinner was harder than you expected. Even though you and Melanie had practiced what you should and shouldn't say, your fears came to light. Harry seemed kind and understanding, and it was difficult to lie to him, which made you hate every minute of it. It got worse when he started grilling you with questions, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up with this silly game.

When you excused yourself to go to the restroom, you called Melanie. 

"What do you mean he hasn't left the restaurant yet?" 

"I don't know; the conversation got a little long, and he kept asking questions about me, I mean you." 

"Do something to make him hate you already!" 

“But how? Throw wine at him? This is all ridiculous. I think we should just tell the truth.”

"Don't you dare!" she barked.

Her voice was so loud that you had to smile apologetically when the other women in the ladies room looked at you strangely, hearing your end of the conversation. 

"What am I supposed to do? Our plan isn't working." 

“What's up with this guy? He should’ve bailed by now.” Melanie grunted.

“He seems nice—I doubt he’d be rude like that.” 

“Rude! That’s the ticket; just be rude enough that he can’t stand it.” 

“What? Seriously?” 

“Yep, you heard me. Just be as rude as you can.” 

You let out a sigh, really wishing you could just bang your head against the wall right now.

“I said do it, or you'll ruin everything. Call me when you’re done.” 

“But what am I gonna— Hello? Darn it!” 

Beep… Beep… Beep… 

She hung up. 

You’ll have to be rude, how wonderful! But she was right; you needed to get rid of this man for the night to end and for you to return to your normal life. Why did he have to be so nice and kind? If he could ever act like a jerk, you would have done it by now, but he was just too sweet. As you looked in the mirror, you thought of all the rude things a lady wouldn’t normally do. Ah, that sounds familiar; it reminds you of Melanie herself. The very thought of her actions made you smile nervously. You took a deep breath and left the restroom.

Encouraging yourself, you gazed at Harry's handsome face from afar.

You can do it, you can do it...

Your first move: act indifferent.

You changed your facial expression as you approached the table and deliberately looked away from his face. He was smiling warmly at you. No, you couldn't look at him; it would only complicate everything. You were about to apologize for being late, but no, you can’t. Instead, you pulled your chair noisily on purpose, scraping its legs on the floor to create an annoying sound. You sat down and crossed your legs, positioning your body so it wasn't fully facing him. Harry seemed surprised by this sudden shift in your mood, but he didn’t comment.

A little later, as your desserts were served, he looked at you, “I like chocolate cake too, especially with pistachio sauce. We have similar tastes,” grinning at you.

You looked at him and then at the waiter. “I don’t want this,” you said angrily.

“But ma'am, you ordered it,” the poor man replied sheepishly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said. “I’ll go with the tiramisu,” you added after a quick look at the menu, making sure to glance away casually.

“Sure, I’ll change it right away,” he said, taking your plate and walking back.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m great,” you lied, forcing a fake grin.

He didn’t ask any further questions, but he seemed to suspect something had changed. When the waiter brought your dessert, you decided to eat it rudely. You were sure Harry would be disgusted as you devoured your dessert quickly and rather rudely as if you were starving. You didn’t look at him again until you finished your plate. When you finally glanced up, your stomach feeling a bit nauseous, the look on his face was not what you had expected. He was smiling at you admiringly.

What the hell was that? 

Shouldn’t he have shown disgust or displeasure, just like the people at the next table who were staring at you with disdain?

But not Harry, not him. Why, God, why? 

As if teasing you, he laughed and reached for a napkin on the table, wiping the remnants of dessert from the corner of your lips. “You’ve got quite the sweet tooth, don’t you, sweet girl?”

How could he be so nice, even after everything? 

“Want to eat mine too?” he joked again. Clearly, you were amusing him instead of grossing him out. Ugh, just what you needed. Why was this so hard? 

“It’s the cream in it,” you said, a bit defensive. If you were going to get into a battle of words, you might as well dive in. 

When he looked at you, confused, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe you could annoy him with your gourmet knowledge. 

“The Marsala wine is in the cream; it’s a secret recipe,” you said, trying to sound smart. 

Harry paused eating his dessert, rested his elbow on the table, and gave you an admiring look. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into cooking. That wasn’t in the info.” That familiar warm smile was back.

Crap. Another mess-up. 

“I get it—you’re keeping it under wraps from your dad. I want you to feel comfortable talking about your hobbies when you’re with me.” 

When you’re with him? Damn, that was supposed to be the first and last time you saw him. You started playing with your fingers in your hair out of nervousness. 

Think, think, think. All you had left was to use the only card you had.

“Look, Harry, I’ll be frank. I don’t plan to see you again.”

Suddenly, he stopped. “Didn’t you like me?” he asked softly.

Was it possible not to like this man? But damn it, you had to lie. You looked away; it was hard to read his expression.

“You’ve probably heard about me from the tabloids. I’m not the type of woman to get attached to just one man. My father put me up to this matchmaker thing; I didn’t intend to.” You admitted this indirectly. He deserved a little honesty, didn’t he? “I’ve had and will have many men in my life. I don’t plan to get married. I mean, you’re not special. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” 

When you looked at his face timidly, you realized you got the reaction you had been waiting for since the beginning of the night. His smile vanished; his expression hardened, and the color of his eyes darkened. 

But why did your heart squeeze when you should have felt relieved?

When they brought your coat, you thanked them and turned to Harry for the last time. You would probably never see him again. You felt fortunate to have had the chance to meet and get to know this man, even briefly. He would probably forget you anyway; why would he remember you? 

“Can I give you a ride home so we can end things on a good note?” he asked, sounding a bit unsure.

You definitely didn’t see that coming. You paused, trying to figure out what to say. It would’ve been easier to just say no, but his eyes were so mesmerizing that if he’d asked you to spill all your secrets right then, you might have done it without even thinking.

“Sure,” you replied, feeling shy.

When the valet brought Harry's car around, your jaw dropped. This black, late-model Mercedes Benz S was probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Your interest in cars stemmed from your childhood; your mother always complained that you didn't like dresses and jewelry like other girls—rather, you liked cars. It was clear you were different, and you had always been that way.

Just like the situation you found yourself in now. Maybe there was something wrong with you.

The two of you were silent the entire ride. You didn’t look directly at him, but you could feel his gaze on you out of the corner of your eye. However, you were more captivated by the interior of the car. When would you ever get to ride in such a luxury vehicle again? It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look. As you glanced towards his side to check out the control panel and see how much horsepower the car had, he caught your eye, causing you to quickly turn your head away. You had to suppress your curiosity.

"We’ll turn right here," you said as you approached the junction. Down the street, the giant mansion loomed, so close to your destination. You stole a quick glance at him, realizing this might be the only time you would see this man in person. You wanted to remember his handsome face. 

Suddenly, Harry slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him, startled that he had stopped so abruptly near the mansion. What had caused him to suddenly halt? He didn’t say a word, just stared at you, and his eyes seemed to communicate something intense. Was he angry and no longer wanting your company? 

You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.

“Stay still,” he said as he unlocked the car doors. 

What was he implying? He walked around the front of the car, reached your side, and opened your door. 

Was this chivalry? If so, why did he stay away from the mansion?

“Aren’t you getting out?” His voice was kinda cold.

You didn’t know how to respond. You stepped out of the car without saying a word.

“Thanks for the ride—” 

Suddenly, he grabbed your arm—not roughly, but with a firm, questioning grip. His gaze was intense, but why did he look that way? Had he figured it all out? Maybe he was about to confront you for making a fool of yourself. After all, you had been willing to be open, and now you felt you deserved it. But you didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so you lowered your head. 

“You were lying, weren’t you?”

Shit. 

You swallowed hard; this was the moment you had dreaded.

“I-I…”

What were you going to say? How would you even say it?

You were fucked.

Suddenly, Harry pinched your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him while his other hand rested on your waist. He tilted his head toward you, his hot breath brushing against your face, making your heart race. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel your throat going dry. What the hell was he going to do? Kissing you or scolding you? After what felt like an eternity, he pulled you closer by the arm around your waist and kissed you.

It had been a long time since you kissed someone, so you were almost shocked by his sudden kiss. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, you finally closed your eyes and surrendered to him completely. Your surrendering gave him courage and he deepened the kiss, his hot tongue licking your lips and forcing them apart. While his expert hand lingered on the swell of your breasts teasingly, you moaned and opened your mouth for him and when his tongue touched yours, you could still taste the chocolate from the dessert he had just eaten. 

But suddenly, Harry pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and all contact. Instinctively mesmerized, you leaned forward, eyes closed and mouth agape. When you finally opened your eyes, you caught him snickering, and as the embarrassment of the situation hit you, you wished you could disappear. You instinctively pressed your hand to your burning lips and pressed hem together. Harry licked his lips and grinned. "Just as I predicted. You lied to me. There's no way another man has touched you recently."

For a second, your mind went blank, and you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. What the heck did he mean by that? "Y-you... w-what..." Great, now you couldn't even put together a simple sentence.

What next?

Just then, your phone started ringing. When you opened your purse to get it, Harry reached for it before you could. Fortunately, you had saved Melanie in your phone under a special nickname, not her real name. Harry laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise and amusement. "Trouble?"

Yes, you had saved her as trouble.

"Can you hand my phone back, please?" you said, holding out your hands, but he caught them with one hand and gently pushed them away. 

“Your trouble can wait,” he said, rejecting Melanie’s call. He dialed a number on your phone, but realized what he was doing when his own phone started ringing.

“There, now you have my number,” he said, handing your phone back to you.

You frowned and grabbed your phone angrily, "What makes you think I’d actually call you?" 

Harry shrugged, pursing his lips. “Shouldn't I call you before I come to pick you up for our next date? I guess I could just come by your house and honk the horn instead.” 

“What?” you exclaimed.

He grinned.

You took a deep breath to release some of your tension. “Harry, why are you doing this? There won’t be a next date; I told you that.”

“One chance,” he said firmly.

“A chance of what?” 

"I want you to give me a chance. A real date. If, at the end of the night, you still feel the same way, I promise you’ll never see me again."

You shook your head. "But why? You’re a man who can have any woman you want. You’re rich, handsome, and kind—why waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you?"

You saw something in his brown eyes, something you couldn’t quite identify, but it was intense. “Because you're different from others,” he said sharply. “True, women are not unattainable for me; they are always around. But what I want is someone special, and I feel that you are the one. There’s something about you that has ignited something in me I haven't felt in a long time. I must admit, I'm surprised; I never thought I’d be attracted to you after reading the news about you, but it seems I was wrong. Can you give me a chance? Please?”

Oh, Harry, there’s so much you don’t know, you thought. Your heart was fluttering at the thought of saying yes, but how could you? How dare you? You weren’t Melanie, the daughter of a wealthy businessman; you were just an ordinary girl.

“You know I won’t leave without hearing your answer, right?” He grunted.

Just then, you heard a car approaching, and you freaked out. That was Melanie’s dad’s car. Your heart nearly stopped.

“You have to go, like, now!” you yelled in a panic.

“First, say yes,” he replied, frowning.

"Si, yes, okay, alright! But please, go now!" you urged, pushing him toward the back of his car. He chuckled in response.

You crouched down to hide your face as the other car drove toward the mansion and pulled him down with you.

“I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” he admitted, snickering.

“Is that so funny?” you snapped.

"Okay, I get that you don’t want your dad to see us like this, and I’m curious why, but since you said yes, I’ll be a good guy and leave."

“Yes you do that,” you said with a sigh.

Harry took his phone out of his pocket and waved it before getting into his car. “You’d better answer it when I call,” he said, getting inside. He winked at your puzzled expression and started the engine. His car quickly disappeared from sight along the road. You turned toward the mansion, exhaled deeply, and murmured to yourself.

“I'm so fucked.”

thanks for reading, likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[retiredteabag]

I’m listening to you

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

Synopsis: You stop talking because you assume they aren’t listening… how silly of you, but how do they react?

my masterlist

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Satoru

It would probably be like any other day, he had probably just come back from a mission, laying across the couch and you would be in the kitchen making a snack board as you talked about numerous different things.

The conversation would shift through a multitude of topics as one thing would then reminded you of the next.

As you were getting the chips, you would explain the drama at work after that you would go and get some hummus while you explained the love life of one of your coworkers thereafter you would be reminded of a friend of yours from high school while piling up some cheese cubes.

Throughout all of this, there were very few breaks in your speech. When you finally came to the living room, Satoru would be facing towards you, with his head slightly tilted back on the armrest and his feet dangling off the other edge.

You could see him, just not very well. His blindfold would also be on, not an uncommon occurrence, but it would still be hard for you to see the slight changes in his facial features that typically depicted his emotions to you.

After awhile, you might start to wonder if he was feeling tired from the mission or if he just wasn’t paying attention. It’s okay, getting distracted happens to everyone sometimes.

Your words would taper off.

Believe me when I say it would not take this man any longer than say…five seconds for his head to raise and voice to pipe up,

“Well what happened next?”

And with a grabby hand he would add,

“Aren’t you gonna share those?”

Turning to point at the snacks in your lap.

For such a chatty guy, you would be surprised by how much he enjoyed just listening to others. Especially if it meant listening to you.

Nanami

Let’s be realistic here, this man would never take his undivided attention away from you.

That being said, the situation would be a little bit different with him. You guys would probably be out for coffee. Maybe the both of you had been busy for a while and felt the need to make a day out of catching up.

You know that embarrassing feeling when you get the notion you’ve been talking too much? It would be something like that.

You would have been gesturing and looking around the room while you talked about this and that. Unbeknownst to you, he would have hearts in his eyes while he listened to your ramblings.

That sudden itch would get to you though, the notion that, maaaaaaaaybe you have been talking about yourself too long.

One quick look at your man caused a shiver to run up your back at the eye contact.

There would be a pause in your speech, and he would nod at you to encourage more words to spill fourth, but now you were all flustered.

You would trip over your words, stuttering every so often before eventually apologizing.

“What is it, dear?”

He would ask, after a moment of you trying to collect yourself, he would assume that you had simply lost your train of thought and remind you of the topics you had been previously sharing.

You would thank him even though that wouldn’t have been the issue at all.

How could you not get shy when he was looking at you like that?

Choso

This would have to occur after a long day. Either during nap time or before you both went to bed.

He would be laying his head on your chest as you played with his freed hair. Talking about stuff you had seen online, talking about your plans for the next day, talking about what you were planning to eat for lunch tomorrow, the list could go on.

Every so often he would hum or nod his head. But after a while, you would look down and see that his eyes were closed.

It wasn’t hurtful, or embarrassing. It has been a long day for the both of you, and he was probably just tired. He often fell asleep easily when you combed through his hair with your nails. So you wouldn’t be offended as you go silent.

After you stop talking, though, he would grab your free hand and fiddle with your fingers, saying,

“I like those tacos too… we should get lunch together!”

You would giggle and tug on a lock of his hair, “I thought you were asleep.”

He would spin around onto his chest, chin pressed slightly into you while he looked up at your eyes through those big, long, lashes of his, “But you were talking to me?”

Sukuna

This man :| he would get offended if you insinuated that you could possibly be boring him.

Of course, it would be his fault, too. He would complain and whine all the time about how uninterested he was in your life. Griping that he had better things to do than just sit around and listen to you talk.

But don’t misunderstand, there was nothing he desired more than to watchyou speak about things that impassioned you.

But perhaps one of those instances you would take to heart, he was a busy man after all. It’s not like he had all the time in the world to listen to you yap about nonsense.

So after a long while in his chambers, you would just kind of go silent. ‘Allowing’ him a little time to himself.

Just earlier that day, you would have been telling him a story about one of your fellow workers at the estate. Sukuna had rolled his eyes at the incompetence of his staff as you giggled on about how a man got his hand stuck in a jar full of fertilizer.

You would take his disinterested countenance to assume that he was bored with you. For someone so ancient, he did have an attention span fitting to the times.

He always told you not to make assumptions about him, but after him asking you on several occasions, “and why are you telling me this?” You couldn’t help or conclude that he wasn’t all that interested.

I’ll tell you now. As much as he would like to pretend that was the case, it is far from the truth.

He would frown while laying on his bed. “Why did you stop?”

You would spin around, slightly surprised that he had even been paying attention. “Oh I just thought maybe I was boring you…”

That would cause him to sit up, scowling in your direction, “Did I say that?”

“Well…”

“Did. I. Say. That.”

“…no?”

Undeniably, sassy, he would splay out his arms in a “see??” type of motion. Waiting rather impatiently for you to continue on so he could relax to the sound of his lovers soothing voice while pretending to be impartial to it all.

Toji

This prick.

He wouldn’t do a thing lol

This man would let you assume he isn’t listening, let you think he’s off somewhere else, let you think he’s checked out.

But that could not be more wrong.

Maybe he’s eating his lunch, or watching tv, or texting someone. Whatever the case, there’s nothing he’s more locked into than your words.

In fact, it would take you a while into your relationship for you to realize this, but sometimes you would have to be careful around Toji because once you said something, this man would remember it forever.

You probably wouldn’t even think about it when you stopped talking, deciding to put your efforts into something else. But Toji would notice.

He wouldn’t bring it up though, not for days. But eventually he would crack the conversation back again, flipping the newspaper over and avoiding your eyes.

You would spin around on him, wondering how he even knew the things he was talking about. Then it would hit you.

“Wait… you were listening?”

He would scoff, elbows on the table, finally looking at you over his reading glasses. “Excuse me?” He would point an accusatory finger at you and set down the paper. “Was I listening?”

You would gape at him open mouthed, “Well… how was I supposed to know?”

He would roll his eyes in the most dramatic of fashions, getting up from the kitchen table to stroll over to you. “Please,” he would groan, grazing a knuckle over your neck,

“You’ve always got my attention.”

Yuuji

One might think this would happen early on in the relationship but I would argue this situation would happen after years together.

Why? Well, Yuuji is a super excitable guy, he also just loves talking to you. You both make a great pair because the two of you always converse in a way suitable to each other.

For example, sometimes you’d interrupt one another, never in a rude way, but in a way that shows passion about the topic at hand. That would bring on a whole new discussion and keep the conversation flowing.

Yuuji was a great listener when he needed to be but mainly he was a great conversationalist. Neither of you needed to do heavy lifting when you talked. It was great!

After awhile though, the two of you would become more and more comfortable around one another and more accustomed to the way you spoke.

That’s why it was so weird to see him less active in a conversation. He wasn’t interjecting with his little agreements or experiences. He would still be looking at you, but it was different.

It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he might just be uninterested in the topic so you would get all quiet, focusing on something else until he spoke up.

“No, keep talking.”

Grinning at you, he looked just like he always did.

“You’re not bored?”

He would squint, confused at the notion, “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, you just seem a little quiet I guess.”

But he would just smile at you, “I don’t know what it is… but recently I’ve been liking just admiring you.”

He would say things like that out of the blue all the time by the way.

“Yuuuuujiiiii” you would groan.

“What? Doesn’t mean I’m not listening!”

Megumi

Inversely to Yuuji, this would happen with Megumi early on in y’all’s relationship, likely pre-relationship when the two of you were just getting to know one another.

Megumi wasn’t really shy at all, he was more reserved, even though you weren’t all that talkative, he could still unintentionally make you feel like a blabbermouth at times.

The two of you would probably have been out on a walk together, or maybe in the cafeteria getting lunch, wherever, you would have been sharing some piece of yourself with him.

It would also probably have been a long time since he had spoke up. Sometimes he wouldn’t even give listening cues so it’s not too unusual to suppose that he was checked out.

Megumi was NOT checked out though. He was filing every little word you said away into his brain, and thinking of the best way to respond to you.

You might not know this though, so after awhile you might get all shy, suddenly looking off, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Embarrassed that he hadn’t heard a word, that’s when he would turn to you,

“I’m listening.”

Simple as that.

Reassuring but not overly affectionate.

He would do it in public and in private. If you were in a group and he could tell your confidence was slipping he would jump in to let you know that he cared about your thoughts and opinions.

And like in this instance when it was just the two of you, he might reach over to grab your hand, letting you know,

“I’m still here.”

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma

content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public

It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.

He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.

[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”

CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.

He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.

“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”

Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.

He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.

[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”

FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.

He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.

“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”

It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.

While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.

“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”

The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.

When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.

“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”

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[copperbadge]

You know, ten years ago I might have looked at what working remotely has done to my daily routine and said it's really fucked me, but this morning I was thinking about it and I think I'm much closer to my natural inclinations than I could have been before.

I woke up around 2am today (after going to bed at 8ish), ate half a hamburger, and made a batch of meringues. I'd planned to make meringues and macaroons this morning before making haroset for the Passover dinner I'm going to, and meringues basically look after themselves -- after 90 minutes in a 200F oven they'll be fine if they stay in the cooling oven a bit, and my oven has a timed-shutoff function, so if I go back to sleep it'll be okay. And now the mixing bowl has time to dry after being washed before I make macaroons.

So you know, yes I'm up at 2am eating breakfast and doing tasks, but I ate breakfast because I was hungry and I got something checked off my to-do list. I got six hours of sleep and could get a few more if I want. ADHD has a known association with sleep dysfunction but usually that means "night owl"; I had to be different so for me that manifests as being an extreme morning person. Ordinarily that would be more of a hindrance than you think, except now nobody is seeing my schedule on the daily.

There's no real problem with being up for the day at 2am if you don't have to pretend to be alert and productive from 8 to 4:30 later that same day. I get more done at work because I can square it all away early and then just babysit email the rest of the day. If you don't have to commute, you don't have to avoid the hell of being 15 hours awake while on the bus home - for perspective, if you normally get up at 7 like a normal person, my 5pm is your 10pm.

When breakfast is at 3am, lunch comes around 10:30 -- which is good if you're supposed to take a dose of meds at 1pm on an empty stomach. I no longer have to take my lunch break all in a chunk either; I can eat lunch at a leisurely pace and still only take 20 minutes, and use the rest of my break time to cook or clean in short increments, or just spend a few minutes playing with the cats.

And my ability to stick to a schedule is better, because I have to enforce it myself...but I also can. No need to mess with alarms I'll likely ignore if I can set my work lamp to turn itself off when it's lunch time. If I have to get up to turn it back on, I might as well fix lunch, after all. No need to worry about finishing early and not being able to go home -- I can just walk away and keep email alerts going on my phone until official quitting time.

If I had to go back to in person office work, I could; I knew how to cope before. But I have to admit I'd be really bitter about it.

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[lostintransist]

The Price is Wife | Part 2

Part one here *Part one includes ace!wife!reader coming home to find John has brought home a boyfriend and packs a bag to spend the night at a hotel because why would John need a wife if he has a boyfriend???

Tear stains on your cheeks led to a cool washcloth on your face before packing all of your clothes back into your luggage. You didn't know if you would be able to book this same room for another few nights.

Digging your nails into the palm of the other hand you focus on breathing. The bright color on your nails makes you think of John. Fuck. He had paid for this set. Dammit all and beyond, you didn't want your marriage to end. You love John, he had to be one of your best friends. With a little wine in your glass you would even call him your soul mate. He would laugh and lay a kiss at your cheek, thanking you for the honor.

You loved that man so much you couldn't, wouldn't, stand in his way of being truly happy. John longed for more physical affection than either of you was comfortable with. You knew that John would thrive under the kisses of his boyfriend. Guess you would request a transfer at work and file uncontested.

Halting those thoughts before you started sobbing again you flap your hands at your face to keep your eyes from leaking. Your makeup was done lightly today, knowing you would be crying most of it off in John's office after work despite the setting spray.

Three meetings. That is all you had to get through today. You could buy yourself comfort food on the way to the hotel. Might even splurge and rent an overpriced movie. Yeah. That sounded like a plan.

First meeting drags, sending the following two into overtime and you to missing lunch and clocking out an hour later than you originally planned. The idea of putting food in your face makes you nauseus. Any food will taste like sawdust right now.

The first person to notice something is wrong is the gate officer. Office Madida had been letting you on and off base for a few years now. The man's bright smile fit so neatly on his dark skin that to see him without one would almost signal the end of the world.

"Ah! Mrs. Price, here to see your husband?"

Offering a wan smile you nod, "I'm a bit late. Would you call his office to let him know I'm here?"

"Of course! Give me a moment," Madida grabs the phone from its cradle and punches in a series of numbers. He looks you over smile slipping as he takes in the whole of you. "You doing alright Mrs. Price?"

The title slices at you. It won't be yours for to much longer. Your wan smile is now watery.

"Not really, but I appreciate you noticing."

He holds up a finger as he speaks into the phone. "Yeah, I've got Mrs. Price at the gate. She's asking that Captain Price can meet at his office?" He lifts a brow at you to confirm. At your nod he continues, "I'll send her in now. No, she won't need an escort she's been visiting her husband for nearly a decade."

Fuck a duck, your next anniversry would be ten wouldn't it? A hiccuping sob bursts past your lips. The hand you slap to your mouth doesn't prevent Officer Madida's sharp look as he hangs up the phone.

"Go and park Mrs. Price. Give me five minutes to get a replacement out here and I will walk with you."

You do as commanded, tears streaking down your face as you settle the car into park. Madida opens the door and reaches in to turn off the engine when he arrives. Thankfully you have nearly sobbed yourself out when he arrives. He walks close to you, deference and defense in his body language.

Officer Madida leaves you after John's voice rings out at your knock. Stepping into his office feels like the first time you did two weeks after you had gotten married. He introduced you around the base, proud to show off his new wife. The same drab brown covered the walls, a blanket you had crocheted him for your first wedding anniversery lay across the couch he kept for naps. The only real change in the room had to be the drawn look across John's face.

For a man who should have been happy to lose a wife and gain a husband he looked dreadful. Deep eye bags and his unkempt beard tell of a hard night. Maybe as hard as yours.

John rose slowly as you shut the door behind you. His eyes searched yours.

"Are you ready to talk now?" The gravel in his voice stings as if you were flung across it.

The lip quiver starts first. "What is there to talk about John? Why would you me when you have a boyfriend now? We are friends who sometimes kiss and share tax benefits and a flat. That's not much compared to someone who can love you the way you deserve and fills your needs and your bed."

Tightening your nails into your palms and your arms around your ribs you watch your husband round his desk. John's broad hands settle on you, one at your face and the other on your elbow. Your eyelids drift closed at the familiar, safe touch.

"Why would I want to trade one love for another?" John whispers, voice breaking.

Lifting a hand to lay across the one on your face you open your eyes and match his tear filled gaze.

"I can't see your boyfriend being okay with you keeping a wife. I can't be the reason you don't get to be happy."

John's hand slide around to the back of you, pulling you into a hug.

"The first thing I did," John spoke into your ear, "When Nik kissed me out of the blue was tell him about my wife. The woman who holds me as I cry and pokes fun at me until we both laugh. My best friend, my soul mate. I told him about our arrangement, and how anything with him could not hurt what I have with you. You're allowed to be selfish."

You are sobbing now, wrinkling John's shirt with your tears and your grip. Selfish isn't something you have ever been allowed to be. Asking for your parents to show up to important dates in school, graduation, etc were always met with cries of being selfish. Your sibling had an event that day already, or they had a work event. John had been the first to put your first.

Being put aside so often by those that claimed to love you it only made sense to step aside before John could do the same.

"No, I'm not. Selfish is always the word people use to say I am asking for to much." Sobbing harder the past pains work their way out through your grip on your husband. "Why didn't you tell me John? I would have understood. I want you to be able to be loved the way you deserve."

"Honestly?" He chuckled a bit, "I was so excited for the two of you two meet that I didn't think it through."

Pulling back from John you give him a look he is expressly familiar with. Sometimes your brilliant, SAS-trained, Air Force Captian was dumber than a box of rocks. At this point, you chalked it up to a function of testosterone.

"You forgot to tell your wife that you were bringing your boyfriend home?" The deadpan delivery has John's ears pinking up.

"Nik also called me an idiot after I explained that you were heading to a hotel for the night. He was looking forward to meeting you. If you're okay with it he is probably outside the office waiting to talk to you," John gives you the softest of smiles.

There is a light knock at the door.

"I want you both, and if there is anything you need from me to keep both of you I will do anything to make that happen." John speaks with the seriousness that made you believe he would fight god and win.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips John opens the door to his lover. Nik observes you with a cool indifference. The deepening wrinkles around his eyes tell you he might also be nervous.

"Would you like to see my helicopter?" His accent is thicker today than when he introduced himself last night.

You nod, and John offers your hand to his boyfriend. Nik takes your hand, tucking it into the corner of his elbow as the two of you wander further onto base. Passing no one on your way neither of you is ready to break the silence.

Leaving the building behind both you and Nik take a deep breath. Glancing at him you find Nik looking at your already. Both of you laugh out your big breath of air.

"I hate being in the base buildings for too long. Makes my skin itch," you offer.

"I dislike all the brown," Nik replies in return.

"What did John tell you?" You broach the subject first.

"He told me of his wife. Of her kindness, her self sacrificing ways, of the kisses you share, and the happiness that fills him up so much that I fell in love with coming from you."

No change in his tone or side glance at you. The feet attached to your body would have been rooted to the ground if Nik did not keep careful pressure on your hand, pulling you forward to the helicopter now within sight.

The ache in your chest that had started last night when John called Nik his boyfriend flared to life again, an improperly cared for fire.

"First thing you will need to learn," you cover your mouth with a hand, "Is that you can't say nice things like that to me. I cry if you are too nice to me and you are in love with John so you don't want to comfort his wife."

Nik blinks at you slowly, observing. He gives no inclination as to what he saw but lets your hand fall as you reach his helo. He opens the side door and invites you to sit down with a pat of his hand. Sitting next to you Nik does not say anything for a long time. Swinging your feet you prod at your emotions until you can parse them out enough for words. Your palms wear patterns up and down the thighs of your pants.

"I don't want to lose him, Nik. But he deserves to be happy and I know he will be happy with you. He's talked about you before, for years now, I just never realized he liked you more than as a friend. A word from you and I will file the paperwork today. It's an odd agreement between us. I knew it would end for him one day when he found someone to love and love him in return." Your voice breaks as you fight back the sobs. As if the cliffs could fight back a storm.

He pulls your hand from your lap, threading his wide fingers between yours. Hair dots his knuckes. He does not offer platitudes, or unfounded words, simply holds your hand as you weep.

"You love John. I also love John. Part of the love John carries is for you alone, and it would shatter him to lose you," Nik pauses until your sobbing has slowed enough to hear him again. "Give us a chance to learn to love each other, as friends and as those who love the idiot that is John Price."

Someone else calling John an idiot sparked a bark of laughter.

"I would love to learn to love you Nik," squeezing his fingers tight in yours you stand.

Nik joins you. Releasing his hand from yours he settles both against your face. Placing a kiss to one cheek and then the other, he finally places a kiss on your lips. The two of you share a smile and a nod of understanding. This would be a time of transition and of growth, but you both loved John enough to make room for the other.

The kiss Nik pressed to your lips did not go unobserved. Kyle, with a twisted and complicated relationship of his own he kept under wraps, saw Nik kiss John's wife. Turning and sprinting across the base he found his lovers, Simon and Johnny, reviewing paperwork from their last mission.

"Nikoli is a fucking homewrecker and is trying to get with Mrs. Price!"

That brought all work to a hard standstill.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Bonus

Masterlist

[feral4daryl]

need a part 2 of sweet scent with pervy daryl trying to explain it to you but you couldn't get it cuz you'd never done anything like it so he says he's gonna show you how good it feels and has to muffle your screams so no one in the house hears you as his cock practically splits your tiny cunt in half and he uses his thumb to rub ur clit to try and make u relax.........

I'm crazy but I'm free

masterlist and other infos || MDNI

sweet scent pt2.

perv!daryl x innocent!fem!reader

summary: after getting caught sniffing your panties by you, daryl persuades you into giving your precious virginity away to him while your dad's just in the next room.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl's is in late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18 [or older, it's up to you]), 18+ smut, praising, dubcon? (reader lacks enthusiastic consent at first and daryl has to do some convincing), panty gagging, p-in-v, blowjobs, cunnilingus, masturbation, manipulation, petnames, daddy kink, orgasm denial, mentions of dumbification, mentions of degradation.

word count: 6.2k

a/n: the following content contains some extreme fetishes and kinks that some readers might find disturbing, so if you're not comfortable with any of those, please do not proceed. click here to read part 1.

<previous chapter>

[...] His movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. He sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. He opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

Then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

You. Standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

"U-uncle Daryl?"

---

Shit.

You definitely weren't what Daryl expected to see when he opened his eyes, the remains of his freshly busted nut all over his hand and his cock out, fully on display. For a good 5 seconds, he just freezed, completely unsure of what to do. But then, it hit him. He freaked out.

His eyes got as big as they possibly could and he immediately pulled his cock in his pants back again, clumsily trying to regain his composure, taking a little longer than usual due to his nervousness. Meanwhile, you just stood there with an unreadable expression. You didn't look exactly shocked, or angry, or anything like it. You looked strangely curious, with your head slightly tilted to the side.

Daryl shook his hand to get rid of some of his essence that was still sticking to it and then rubbed it on the side of his pants, on the hip area. Still not capable of looking you in the eyes, he quickly glanced at your frame and finally broke the awkward silence.

“Y/N? W-What'r'ya doin' here?” Stuttering was very unusual for Daryl, considering that although he was a man of very few words, he was always very direct and precise with them. Maybe playing it cool as if you hadn't just caught him in the act was the way out of that unpleasant situation.

“Well...” You let out a small chuckle and took a step closer to him. “This is my room.” His awkward smile immediately faded away.

“Oh, uh... I was jus’...” He looked around the room, searching for anything to use as an excuse for being there. But before he could start, you interrupted him.

“I didn't leave with the others, daddy told me to stay here to take care of you. He's in his room.” Your sweet girly voice had a way of calming Daryl, making him a bit more relaxed despite the current scenario and the shame he was feeling. But at the same time, just hearing you enunciate that one little word 'daddy' had him taking a deep breath to control his urges and not have another erection right there and then. You said that so innocently, because, well, it was in fact innocent since you referred to your actual father Hershel, but still, Daryl's twisted mind made it sound suggestive in his head.

“Take care'a me?” He pondered. Daryl wondered why your reaction was so calm considering what you had just witnessed. Maybe you didn't see much.

“You know, somebody's gotta change your bandage.” You smiled and pointed to his head that still had the bandage around it. “Actually, can you step to the side a bit? So I can...” You gestured to the dressing table behind him. He didn't say anything and just did as you said, moving to the side a little so you could approach the piece of furniture. In that moment, Daryl was the definition of what they call a standoffish.

“I was expecting to find you in your bed, resting. As you should, uncle Daryl.” Your voice carried a hint of playfulness along with a sincere worry. But the way you called him uncle for the second time that day gave him mixed sensations. He wasn't sure if he was aroused or weirded out by it. Or both.

You extended your hand, meaning to pull the drawer open to collect the items needed to change his bandage, which included the gauze, antiseptic wipes, medical tapes, sterile dressing and other kinds of medical stuff your dad had taught you how to handle, but you had to stop your hand midway when you noticed a white slimy thing dripping down the furnishing.

He followed your eyes, noticing how stared at the liquid. The farmer's sweet young daughter had just noticed the results of Daryl's arousal while it coated the dressing table. His mind started rushing with apprehension, you could tell your dad and everyone else how much of a perverted old man Daryl actually was, and he could be kicked out of the group, being left alone in the woods to fend for himself. It's not that he wasn't capable to make it on his own, but his family was important to him, he didn't wanna lose them over that type of thing that could change the way they looked at him forever.

“What's this?” You bended your knees a little, leaning forward and squinting your eyes to take a better look at the unknown substance. Now, you had completely forgotten the reason why you came into that room that was changing his bandage. Daryl lifted one of his eyebrows out of confusion. Did you really not know what that was? If that was the case, it kind of made sense.

Of course. Living on a farm far from the city, you had a close-knit relationship with your family in a way that they were pretty much all the people you would interact with. You had never had boyfriends, or kissed, or anything remotely romantic like that due to your dad's overprotectiveness, after all, you were his youngest daughter. All you knew about the existence of sexual stuff had been taught by him, when he mainly warned you about the terrible consequences of that type of action and that you had to stay innocent.

You didn't really know what he meant by all that, since he was very vague in his descriptions about sex. Hershel just used to say that there were certain areas on your body that you should never let a boy get near and you knew better than to disobey your father's orders, being aware that he always knew what was best for you. Not even your own hands had ever darted down your body to meet those spots more than once or twice before quickly pulling away. You wanted to remain innocent, whatever that meant.

But Daryl was the observant type, and he quickly caught up that you knew nothing about that type of thing. He knew you had always lived in that farm, away from the perverted hands of boys your age (or older like him) so connecting the dots wasn't tricky at all.

Oh, the things he could show you. That thought alone brought a somewhat creepy smirk to Daryl's face as he stared into the wall, contemplating the opportunity he had in hands to finally have his way with you. He knew he still had to be careful though.

“Daryl?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. You turned your head to look at him before turning your entire body to face him. Your gaze was curious.

“This?” He motioned with his chin towards the dripping substance on the piece of furniture, looking out of place. “Ya don'... know wha' it is?” He double checked, wanting to make sure you were actually unfamiliar erotic nature of what you saw him doing.

“Well, I saw where it came from.” You revealed, not sounding accusing at all, just simply stating a fact.

“...How long 've ya been watchin' me?” He asked with an almost audible gulp. Though he was considerably excited about teaching you all that new stuff, he was still unsure if he should or not. It'd been so long since his last sexual interaction with someone else that he could barely remember it. And doing it with the daughter of the man that gave him a roof to put over his head in times like these? That was risky.

“A while.” You stated. Now, Daryl could notice how you started staring at his crotch area with a renewed sense of interest. That meant you had definitely seen his dick despite his efforts to hide it when he first got caught just moments ago. He wondered if you knew what it was or its purpose.

You stepped even closer to him and he couldn't help but step back slightly. “I've never seen somebody pee like that. Are you... Sick?” You raise an eyebrow. “The bathroom's just in the next room, you know...” Your worried tone was awfully adorable to Daryl. And well, he was indeed sick, but not in the way you meant it. Nonetheless, the amusing way you mistook his semen for urine made him share a light chuckle.

“Nah, tha's... Tha's not piss.” He bluntly let out. You walked across your room and over to your bed, sitting on its edge. Daryl followed you until he was standing in front of you. He crossed his arms.

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side with a sincere curiosity displayed on your face. You had seen the way he rubbed that one thing of his that you weren't sure how it worked until that slimy liquid started oozing out of it, deeply stimulating your curiosity.

“Ya sure ya wanna know?” His tone sounded more dark and his voice turned hoarser, however, that didn't seem to faze you. You nodded frantically. “Aigh', i'll show ya.” Once again, a smirk creeped onto his face. Your eyes were all sparkly as you attentively listened to him. “Sometimes people touch themselves ta feel good, ya know?” You shrugged, not really sure of what he was talking about.

As he spoke, he took light and slow steps towards you, like a predator preparing to hunt its prey, until his knees was almost touching yours. “Ya ever touched yerself, darlin'?” Despite the raspiness in his voice, it was now rather calm, with a surge of some sweetness to it.

“Like how?” You asked.

“Like here...” He extended his hand with a gentle movement, his finger tracing a path from the valley between your breasts down to your bellybutton. The slightly ticklish sensation made you flinch a little. Then, his finger continued making its way down to your lower belly, stopping inches above your clothed pussy. “'N here...”

Your breath hissed, and you started remembering how your dad told you those parts were sacred and shouldn't be touched by anyone, no matter who. The uncertainty was obvious in your face as you discreetly pushed his hand away. “Uncle Daryl...”

“Ya can call me jus' Daryl, sweetheart. 'M yer friend, remember?” He tried his best to sound convincing.

“Yes, Daryl...” You corrected yourself with an awkward chuckle. “I... I think I shouldn't.” You avert your gaze from his.

“Why not? Dontcha wanna know wha' it's like?” He leaned in a little closer, resting his hands on your thighs. You made a motion to try to push him away again, but he insisted on his touch. “Don' be scared, doll. 'M not gunna hurt ya. Quite the opposite.” He smirked while practically whispering the last part, making sure to sound extra coaxing.

You weren't really sure what you were afraid of, exactly. You just knew that you wanted to make your father happy and proud of you, since he'd always been so caring towards you and your family. In the end, you just wanted daddy's approval.

“I'm... I'm not sure. I don't know, it doesn't feel right.” You confessed, your voice filled with worry. Daryl knew how to be intimidating when he wanted to.

“'S okay, doll.” He spoke the way one would speak to a puppy. And giving you no time to protest, he used one of his hands to tug at the hem of your white tank top and pulled it up in one go, revealing your bare tits to him. He bit his lips, noticing you weren't wearing a bra. As quick as he did so, you felt so ashamed of your sudden nudity that you lifted your arms up to try to cover yourself up from his hungry eyes. “D-Daryl...”

“Shhhh...” He shushed you against your ear, making shivers run down your spine. Although you were uncertain, the way he spoke to you made certain parts of your body warm up, an unusual sensation for you. “Ya got such pretty tits... Ya shouldn't hide 'em away from me.” As he said that, he gently grabbed one of your breasts, giving it the slightest squeeze not to startle you. You couldn't help but let out a small squeak at the unfamiliar sensation. Weirdly enough, it felt good in a way you had never felt before.

“Ya like tha'?” He whispered. “It's nice, but... Daddy wouldn't like that. I just wanna make daddy happy.” You just wanted to be a good girl. Perhaps, you could find a different way of doing that.

“Yeah?” He muttered practically to himself as he got an idea. “Well, I can be yer daddy for today. Like tha', ya could make yer daddy happy in a way. Yer jus' gotta lemme lead ya, aigh'?” He didn't feel guilty in the slightest for making you engage in one of his twisted fetishes while you were barely aware of it.

“H-huh?" You were uncertain about the reason behind his suggestion.

“Ya can pretend 'm yer daddy.” He continued playing her mind. You weren't really sure if you liked the idea to depict him as your old man, but you tried to convince yourself to play along.

“But... What will he think of me when he finds out?” You fidgeted with your fingers. Meanwhile his grip on your breast continued to intimidate you.

“He don' have ta know. C'mon, dontcha wanna make daddy happy?” He conveyed in a hush against your ear, his thumb now grazing your sensitive nipple, making you feel that one funny sensation again. You couldn't help but lean into his touch.

You closed your eyes, darting your tongue out to lick your lips. The nervousness in you due to the newness of it all made your lips dry. The way Daryl was making you feel was curious, and you just wanted more of it. He took your silence as a confirmation.

“Good girl.” He cooed before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, very gently sucking on it. The feeling made you arch your back instantly.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

You just wanted to be a good girl. And if following Daryl's lead was a way to do it, you were all in for it. Your senses awakened as a cascade of unfamiliar yet electrifying sensations coursed through you, a dance of pleasure that tingled on your skin. In that moment, a subtle warmth enveloped you, as if you had discovered a secret realm of bliss previously unknown.

You reached for his head, the feeling of your delicate fingernails scratching against his scalp and pulling him closer sent tingling sensations all over his body. Instinctively, you slightly opened your legs at the pleasure and that drew a smirk onto Daryl's face.

“Eager fer daddy, huh?” The way he referred to himself like that made a faint blush spread across your cheeks, although you couldn't wrap your head around the reason why. It felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

“I need ya to trust me, 'kay?” He said as he pulled your shorts down and then tossed them aside, revealing your white cotton panties. Once again, you felt to urge to hide, not knowing how to deal with someone else seeing you naked for the first time. But before your legs could involuntarily close, his big hands groped your thighs, keeping them spread apart. “'S okay, sunshine.” He practically manhandled you, gently but firmly pushing your body downward so you rested you back on the mattress.

The new position made you feel strangely vulnerable, but it wasn't exactly a bad feeling. Your doe eyes had a mix of unsureness and curiosity as they meet his. Sensing the mixed sensations within you, Daryl leaned in to place a small peck on your plush lips, aiming to make you more comfortable. The feeling of his rough lips against your soft ones so suddenly almost made you flinch, but they felt rather inviting. As he pulled back, a confident smirk could be seen displayed on his face.

The archer's rugged fingers traveled their way down your body once again until they found the soft fabric of your panties, making your breath hiss. He brushed his index and middle fingers against your clothed pussy lips. Just with that, the dampness was so obvious that a small wet spot could be seen on the cotton fabric right where your slit would be. He dragged his fingers across it until they reached your clit.

“This lil spot righ' here...” He kept his hand there. “...is magical." For now, he just added a small pressure, testing the waters and watching close to your reaction, but that was enough to draw a whimper from you, the unknown sensation making you grasp his forearm. It indeed felt magical. You bit your lips and though you couldn't see it, Daryl shared a satisfied smile at the way he was able to get you all hot and bothered with just a simple touch.

Your legs squirmed a bit and he took that as a good sign, so he continued. Now, he started slowly rubbing your clit in circular motions over the fabric of your panties. Your back arched again, and you accidentally let out a dangerously loud moan.

“Nuh-uh.” He brought his other index finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet. “Ya gotta be quiet, ya hear me?” His tone was mostly reprimanding, which strangely excited you. You nodded, enjoying the authority he guided you with through those new sensations. You had touched yourself there before, but never like that. The sensation always felt somewhat wrong, but with Daryl, it was totally different.

You were still kind of upset at yourself for disobeying your dad, but the way Daryl worked his fingers so skillfully had you seeing stars. You never thought you'd be handing out your innocence for some old redneck you met just a while ago, but there you were, completely given to him.

In the beginning, Daryl used to always kind of avoid you, despite your attempts of trying to get to know at least a little bit about the mysterious archer. He knew that deep down, those desires towards you were always there, since the very first time he saw you. At first, he tried to brush them off, but now, all he wanted was to be the one to feel your tight virgin cunt for the first time.

In a swift motion, his big hands tugged at the hem of your underwear. “Up.” He ordered, gesturing for you to lift your hips so he could pull them down. You didn't argue at all and promptly did as he said, reveling in the control he had over you. It was like he dominated your weak mind. “Good girl.” He cooed once again. Oh, if only he knew what that did to your little inexperienced pussy.

After tossing the piece of fabric aside, he reached for you knees, gently spreading them apart. The sight of your glistening bare cunt had his mind rushing through all the things he could do to it. He wondered if he would be able to hold himself back and be gentle or if he would end up losing control. After all, he hadn't done anything like that in such a long time that his whole body was aching for it. He stared at it in an almost scary way, you'd never seen his eyes so hungry.

If his cock hadn't awaken until that moment, now it was hard as a fucking rock. He had to really fight the urges to pull it out his pants and dick you down right there and then, but he knew he had to take it easy on you at least for now and get you nice and ready for him, even though you were already visibly dripping wet.

“Is this all fer me?” His tone was almost mocking. You weren't sure what he meant by that, not fully understanding the concept of natural lubrication, but you just nodded with your eyes closed. Something about being in that position felt so right, so freeing that it had you wondering why you never did that before, and why you were so afraid of trying it in the first place.

Daryl's hands sensually traced their way down your body, exploring your every contour until they reached the back of your thighs, pushing them back until your wet cunt was all over his face. He tried his best to control himself, but his own arousal was practically taking over his mind, so he buried his face on it like a starving man. As soon as his wet tongue made contact with your sensitive little clit and he lapped at your abundant juices, you immediately gasped, gaining a look of disapproval from Daryl.

“I warned ya.” That was all he mumbled before taking your panties he had just took off you and sticking them into your mouth almost aggressively. You could taste yourself on the white fabric, and although it felt strange, it turned you on even more. Now, your little sounds were muffled by the piece of clothing as he resumed eating you out, flicking his tongue on hour clit and burying it between your folds. You never thought a feeling like that could actually exist as you experienced that overwhelming rush of pleasure, a novel sensation coursing through you sending shivers down your spine as a delightful warmth enveloped your entire being. You tried your best to hold back your sounds since your dad was home and could hear you if you slipped, but Daryl's skilled tongue and lips made it an extremely difficult task, even with your panties stuck in your mouth.

He continued working your clit with his mouth, and maybe a little sooner than it should, a tingling sensation forming in your lower belly caught your attention. Daryl noticed the obvious shift in your demeanor and took the panties out of your mouth so you could speak. “D-daddy...” You experimented the honorific he had previously suggested. “I-I feel funny.” You whimpered, squirming a bit harder than before as it started feeling as if you were gonna burst at any moment. Daryl smirked against your skin and gave your pussy a last peck before pulling away, making you whine in disapproval. It had only been seconds but you immediately missed the sensation. You craved it.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” He said. Not yet what, you wondered. But you still wanted to be good for him, so you nodded as the good girl you were. You couldn't think of anything you wouldn't do for him in that moment, considering how desperate you were to feel that pleasure again.

Your curious eyes followed his hands as they reached to unbuckled his own belt, setting it aside. He undid his pants and pulled them down just enough to reveal his boxer briefs to you. There. There was the place where you saw that sticky white thing shooting out from. Now, the excitement in you was unbearable as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his movements closely. Your eyes visibly lighted up and that didn't go unnoticed by Daryl.

“Yer gunna love this, lil' girl.” He bit his lips. Something was very obviously bulging in his boxers, which you found odd since it didn't seem to look so obvious when it was in his pants even though now it looked so big. Either way, you were completely drawn to it. You glued your eyes to his crotch while he pulled his underwear down.

You had heard about it, but you had never actually seen one of those before. In the aftermath of the apocalypse, his pubic hair had grown wild and untamed, a reflection of the makeshift survival and the absence of the once routine grooming practices. Not that he used to care a lot about that kind of thing before the outbreak. In a way, you thought it looked charming, suiting his rugged looks and personality.

You could feel your mouth starting to water at the sight of his cock standing tall and proud in front of you. Since the archer had touched his mouth to your cunt, you wondered if you could do the same to him in that same area on his body. As if he could smell your thoughts, he brought a hand to your head, gently pulling you closer to his crotch while he held it by the base.

“Ya wanna have a taste?” He slyly suggested and chuckled at your frantic nodding. Leaning closer to it, you felt the musky and raw scent that emanated from it, which made you even more drawn to the possibilities that ran through your mind. But at the same time, you didn't know what to do or how to handle it.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he collected some saliva from it and rubbed the wetness on the tip of his cock to lubricate it. “Gimme yer hand.” He reached out his hand, and instantly you complied, allowing him to direct it towards his cock. He enveloped your hand around it, keeping his atop yours, slowly starting to move it up and down. It felt warm and hard against your soft fingers, and the way he threw his head back and quietly groaned made your stomach churn with butterflies. “Fuck baby, tha' feels good.” He had to whisper due to the dangerous presence of your dad in the house threatening to put your little playtime to an end.

You smiled proudly at yourself. You liked the way he sounded and you wished to draw more of those grunts from his lips. And Daryl, being just as eager as you, removed your hand from his length, holding it by the base. His other hand found its way to the back of your head, his touch almost feeling impatient as he pulled you closer to his cock. “Open yer mouth.” He didn't have to tell you twice. Therefore, he guided his swollen tip to your awaiting tongue, smearing his salty pre-cum all over it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to hold back any compromising sounds.

Your lips instinctively closed around his tip, trying to mimic the way he sucked on your clit, aiming to make him feel as good as he previously did to you. The act not only gave him pleasure, but it also brought you a deep sense of satisfaction, making you hum against his sensitive skin. The vibrations from your vocal chords sent a chill through his body and he couldn't hold back this time, the warm sensation of your mouth being so tempting and promising that he pushed his hips forward a bit too much, causing it to hit the back of your throat and you to gag on it.

He immediately retracted his body, removing his cock from the velvety confines of your mouth. Your eyes got a little watery but you smiled either way. “Sorry, princess.” He said with a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

“It's fine, I liked it.” You confess, looking up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stood in front of you. Your innocent expression contrasting with the dirty nature of your encounter made him impossibly hornier, and he didn't feel like waiting any longer. “Fuck” He almost whined. Eagerness to feel you wrapping around him filled his body, so he grabbed you by the arms, not too rough so he wouldn't hurt you, and put on your feet against the pink wall of your room.

He brought a hand to your head, pressing it against the wall. You gasped a little at his roughness but soon you felt him brushing the tip of his cock on your slicky slit and clit. “'S gunna feel good, I promise.” He mumbled against your ear, making your body hair stand on end. The sensation had you biting your lips to try and not make any sounds, but your efforts were proven useless as you felt the pressure of his tip carefully going in your cunt, causing a burning sensation and you accidentally let out a loud cry.

Daryl's hand went immediately to your mouth, forcefully pressing his palm against your lips to muffle your sounds, your dad shouldn't hear Daryl using his sweet daughter in his own home after all. “Shhh, shhh.” He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head for a moment. You wrapped around him so tight even though he only had his tip in yet that he couldn't restrain himself from pushing his hips forward a little more, intensifying the burning sensation while he stretched your virgin cunt out.

“'S okay, ya can take it.” In that moment, you were confused at why he was making you feel so good just a moment ago, and now he's ripping your little pussy apart. But even though it hurt, it was somewhat pleasant to feel so full in such a new way, so you stuck your ass towards him, inviting him in. While still keeping his hand pressed on your mouth, he brought his other one to your hips, gripping them a little too tight.

Without warnings, he buried his entire length in you in one swift motion, filling you up to the brim and worsening the burning to a whole new level. The only thing that kept you from letting out a scream at the sudden invasion was his hand muffling your pathetic sounds and the fact that you'd be in deep trouble if your dad found out about that, but even so, Daryl couldn't help but quietly grunt at the intense sensation. He didn't know he missed fucking a warm cunt so badly until he was completely inhumed inside you. “Good girl. Yer being so good fer daddy.” He praised you. His words had an immediate effect on you, making your pussy even wetter, if that was even possible.

You didn't even care if it hurt or not anymore, so you just stood there, caught in the paradox of sensation — a mix of pain and pleasure etched across your face. The twinge felt like a sweet ache, and yet, an irresistible allure pulled her deeper into the experience, as if the discomfort held a hidden charm that she couldn't resist exploring.

Despite the pain, you found herself oddly drawn to the sensation, craving more as if the discomfort carried an inexplicable appeal that kept you coming back for another taste. So you slightly wiggled your ass against Daryl's body, moving his cock a little inside you. The feeling of being stretched out had you desperate for more.

Daryl's warm breath hit your ear as he let out a light-hearted laugh at your reaction, sending delicious goosebumps all over your body. His hips started going back and forth to meet yours in a sensual dance. He tried to be gentle at first, but your virgin cunt was just so wet and warm that he couldn't help it but succumb to his primal desires. “Jus' like tha', princess. Take this fat cock.” He whispered loud enough so only you could hear, making you weak in the knees.

His calloused hand let go of your hips to find your clit, starting to rub it with just the right pressure to make you squirm under his touch. The mixed sensations of intense pleasure and pain confusing your brain, making you melt like putty in his hands. Overwhelming waves of pleasure surged through you, leaving your head blissfully empty as if every thought had been swept away by the sheer intensity of the sensation, which was exactly what Daryl wanted, to turn you into a brainless little fucktoy for him.

If a few months ago somebody told you that you'd be letting some perverted older man take advantage of you in your own room, you would've laughed right in their face. Giving your innocence away to anybody used to feel like such a distant reality, and now there you were, pressed against the wall by Daryl's sweaty body while he mercilessly pounded your no longer virgin cunt, making you experience the most pleasurable pain you could ever feel.

As he continued bucking his hips like a desperate animal, you drooled against his hand, your brain now reduced to putty due to the overpowering sensation that dominated your every sense. “Nngh...” Your muffled moans stirred an even deeper desire within Daryl, turning him as primal as one could be. Your body language made it obvious that you were close to your orgasm, and this time, he didn't plan to deny you of it.

But you had never experienced something like that. You didn't know pleasure could get so extreme that could made you burst, so as the sensation built and grew stronger, it also made you unsure about where it was taking you, and you tried to fight the feeling. Daryl's skilled fingers working your clit only threw you even closer to the edge and you felt like your legs could fail at any moment.

Noticing the shift in your demeanor, he muttered against your ear. “Jus' let it go, baby. Trust me, don' hold it.” His tone was strangely sweet considering what you were both up to, but his encouraging words relaxed you a little, and as he intensified the rubbing on your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold it in not even if you wanted to, whatever it was.

Then, it hit you. An entirely unfamiliar and intense sensation washed over you, catching you off guard. It felt like uncharted emotional and physical territory, leaving you completely stunned, wide-eyed, and grappling with the unexpected intensity of the experience, something that almost made you mad at your dad from convincing you of staying away from it for so long.

Daryl had to intensify the pressure of his hand against your lips, but even so, he wasn't able to muffle your cries completely as your body convulsed and you were sure you lost consciousness for a few seconds. “Good girl, cum for me.” You didn't know what that word meant, but considering the situation, you understood that it probably had something to do with the new type of pleasure you just experienced.

As the orgasmic sensation slowly faded away, it was replaced with an even more overwhelming feeling of overstimulation. You squirmed even harder and you swore you could cry if he continued using your cunt like that, not giving you any breaks to catch your breath. You'd been turned into a whimpering and drooling mess, a total slut for his cock. You wanted him to have his way with you and you knew that if he wanted to, you'd let him fuck you all day without arguing.

The intense clenching of your tight pussy around his length initiated his own orgasm, and now it was his turn to experience the compelling feeling of being right on the edge of pleasure. “Fuck, turn 'round." He desperately voiced, but he didn't even waited for you before decisively grasping your shoulders, swiftly turning you to face him. As he did so, he removed his cock from inside you and stroked it hard and fast for a few seconds with just enough pressure to make himself burst.

Your mesmerized eyes watched as the pleasure took over his body. And now, it all made sense as he started shooting his load aiming right on your bare pussy, just as he was doing earlier today when you first caught him in your room. The warm sticky substance coated your cunt and it was so much that it felt like it would never end, leaving you astonished. You couldn't help but smile at the sight before you.

You two stared into each other's eyes while desperately trying to catch your breaths, sharing a small chuckle and satisfied smiles. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead and now, you knew who to come up to when you feel that funny feeling in your lower belly again. You knew Daryl had what it took to take care of your needs.

Without saying anything else, he pulled his briefs and pants back up again, adjusting his clothes. Then, he reached for his pocket, pulling out those panties he had stolen earlier and putting them on you again, leaving his load smeary and sticking to your skin. “Leave it there.” He hoarsely voiced, ordering you to walk around with his cum inside your clothes while no one else knew of it except the both of you.

“And these...” He walked over to your bed and bended his knees a little so he could reach for the white cotton panties he had tossed aside right before railing you and put them in his pocket.

“...'M gunna keep these fer later.”

a/n: omg guys the first part of sweet scent got over 1.1k notes and that's like??? insane??? tysm for all ur support, that's crazy. it was so much fun to write both parts and i'm so thankful if you read it this far!! i hope y'all have a great and happy holidays xx

taglist: @imagininghim , @murdadixon , @epilepsywarrior8787 , @darklydixon

[mariasont]

dangerous currents

sharing a wall with hotch means resorting to a midnight swim, you weren't expecting him to join you

pairing: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warnings: fem!reader, midnight swim, reader alluding to some naughty thoughts, hotch accidentally grabs readers ass prompt: here wc: 1.2k

Honestly, you don’t recall consciously deciding to go swimming. One minute you’re wrestling with sheets that somehow manage to be both itchy and disappointingly thin, trapped in the endless loop of your overly chatty brain, and the next you’re thigh-deep in moonlit waves, saltwater lapping around you like a peace offering for your misery.

If you’re being brutally honest (and lately, brutal honesty seems to be your new best friend), your insomnia might have something, just a smidge, to do with Hotch lying just inches away, separated by drywall and what might as well be actual paper for insulation.

Your hearing has leveled up overnight, picking up every breath, every toss and turn from his side. 

It feels wrong, intrusive even, but also exhilaratingly intimate.

Which explains why, at two in the morning, you’re out here, counting on saltwater to settle your overactive mind and extinguish the stubborn heat flooding your face.

You’re mid-float when your instincts snap you upright, adrenaline spiking so fast you almost inhale a lungful of ocean.

There’s a shadow on the shoreline.

But then it steps forward, moonlight carving out the unmistakable angles of a handsome face that sends your stomach tumbling into your feet for a different but no less stressful reason.

Hotch.

You could laugh or cry, but instead, you quietly make your way towards the shore, waves breaking around your ankles.

“You scared me half to death,” you mumble, hugging your arms around your chilled body and feeling every bit like a reckless kid who’s just disappointed the one person she desperately wanted to impress.

“Do you know how unsafe it is to swim alone at night?” His lips press into a straight line. “Anything could’ve happened, and none of us would have any idea.”

“Sorry,” you exhale, sincerity tangled up with humiliation as your gaze flickers upward through wet lashes. 

You mean it. Of course you do — he looks worried, and that worry always seems worse when it’s aimed directly at you.

Hotch studies you for a second, then asks, “Do you plan on coming inside anytime soon?”

Going inside would be simpler. Easier. You could neatly sidestep this entire messy situation.

But the moment you close the door behind you, it’s back to square one — too quiet, too dark, thoughts screaming at you in surround sound.

A single creak of his bed, and suddenly you’re in dangerous territory. What if he sleeps shirtless? Or in boxers? What if that sound he just made is the result of an indecent dream?

And then, somehow, you are the indecent one, palms tingling with a restless need that used to feel rare but lately shows up with frustrating frequency.

All because of him.

“I think I’ll stay out for a little longer,” you say, tossing a forced shrug. “The ocean hasn’t tried to kill me yet, so I figure we’re on decent terms.” 

Hotch arches a brow at that, clearly unamused. He glances at the ocean, then back to you, a silent calculation taking place behind dark eyes.

Then, without warning, he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, folding it once before tossing it onto the sand.

“What are you doing?”

He gives you a faint, reckless half-smile. “Making a bad decision.”

You laugh, more out of shock than anything else.

He steps toward the water, shirtless, and suddenly every thought you’ve ever had vacates your head.

Sure, yesterday you’d seen him on the beach, but that was distant and crowded, shielded by sunglasses and casual team conversation. 

Here, now, it’s just you, him, and the unsparing glow of moonlight revealing every agonizing thing you absolutely shouldn't notice. Like the dark dusting of chest hair, the disciplined sculpt of muscle across his torso, the line of hair drawing your gaze lower, lower —

You swallow roughly, stepping deeper into the water to physically pull yourself out of danger, but your gaze betrays you once more, darting sideways in helpless fascination.

“How did you know I was out here?”

“You’re not exactly quiet.”

Your blood turns to ice, then instantly flares hot. How did it never occur to you that if you could practically track his breathing patterns, he could easily have heard your shifting, your whispered curses, or worse, that one barely suppressed sigh when your imagination got carried away earlier.

“I guess not,” you mutter, “I didn’t realize you were listening.”

His laugh is quiet but genuine, and you’re surprised to find yourself smiling in return. How bizarre yet wonderful it is to witness the softer version of Hotch, miles away from the person he has to be at Quantico. You suddenly want very much to keep him like this.

“Funny,” he murmurs, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Your face instantly burns, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful for the darkness, although knowing your luck, that probably isn’t really doing you any favors. You force a shaky laugh, pretending you didn’t just hear the tease in his voice, or at least pretending it didn’t affect you.

“You really didn’t have to come out here,” you say, eyes fixed stubbornly on the horizon past his shoulders. “I would’ve been fine, you know.”

The water rises around your collarbones, licking under your chin with every small movement. Hotch stands barely submerged past his chest. Even nature is unreasonably biased toward him.

You dig your toes deeper into the sand, resisting the tide and the impulse that keeps nudging you closer to him.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t drown.” 

You open your mouth — to protest, maybe flirt (wishful thinking, obviously), or perhaps just awkwardly deflect — but before you can embarrass yourself further, a sudden wave crashes forward, knocking you straight into him.

Hotch barely budges, absorbing most of your momentum, but your hands land catastrophically. One lands safely on his chest, but the other falls disproportionately lower, fingers splayed over the enticing line of hair disappearing beneath his waistband. 

Simultaneously, his own hand catches your hip, then slides, firm and unintentional, on your ass.

Both of you freeze. 

“Sorry — I — um, the wave.” As if that clarifies anything at all.

Beneath your hand, his stomach tenses, his chest lifting with increasingly rapid breaths.

Still, Hotch doesn’t move, doesn't shift away. His palm stays exactly where it landed, warm, and surely, he has to know exactly what he’s doing. He has to.

“You’re freezing.”

“I —,” you start but whatever you meant to say disappears before it finishes forming. 

He slowly, almost reluctantly lifts his hand from you. Your skin sparks at the loss, hypersensitive where he just was.

When you meet his eyes again, something new flickers there — something you’re certain wasn’t present before tonight. 

Want.

It’s a look he’s taught you to recognize — eyes darkening, pupils dilating, respiration just a bit quicker. Except this isn’t an interrogation room, and the person in front of you is not a suspect, he’s Hotch.

And this want feels very, very personal.

But he only nods once, then glances toward the beach house.

“We should get out of the water.” 

You don’t want to get out. Every part of you rebels at the idea of leaving this bubble. This fragile space that’s somehow made everything else feel distant, unreal.

But you can’t deny the truth in what he doesn't say. If this boundary were broken tonight, there’s no going back, no returning to the careful neutrality you’ve both perfected.

So, you nod slowly, forcing acceptance as your heart protests.

He moves first, and you fall into step beside him, close enough that your shadows merge.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

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maria's spring break getaway masterlist

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

can you PLEASEEEE do something with the idea of reader stealing/wearing katsukis clothes?? you’re the only one who i think will fully do this idea justice xx

pure fluff, reader is a thief, reader likes the way katsuki smells, roughhousing lol kinda ?? katsuki sorta tackles you, katsuki is a meanie, tickling, no pronouns mentioned in this one I don’t think ! lemme know if i missed sum else !!

a/n : hey so this has been sittin in my drafts for literal decades omg IM SO SORRY🙁🙁🙁🙁ALSO BTW TYSM FOR THINKIN I COULD DO UR ASK JUSTICE I WAS SO FLATTERED WHEN I READ THIS I WAS GIGGLING N SHIT🤭🤭i was always so excited for this ask but I literally never got around to doing it after my break n stuff, im slowly (and that’s suuuuper slowly im so sorry yall i suck) getting to all of your asks one at a time and im so grateful yall r still givin me the time of day honestly , so please be patient with me🤧💗💗💍 ! But anway enough dumping ! Anon if you’re still sticking around, i truly hope u enjoy this ! And ofc all of yall too ! much luv xxx!!

"you fuckin' thief.."

shit. you thought he'd be gone for longer.

lately, you’d been routinely sneaking into katsuki’s dorm room and nabbing some of his clothes. sweaters, hoodies, t-shirts : as long as they were in your reach, you’d grab them.

it's not your fault, really ! katsuki's clothes are so cosy and warm and they smell just like him. plus, they're perfect to snuggle in when he's busy, how could you not borrow them for a little while ?!

..except you can admit that you’ve been stalling..and a lot of his clothes were still in your room, but you still planned on giving them back..soon !

and you can’t even pretend, because you’re wearing on of his hoodies that had been missing for a good week now.

"katsuki, baby." you slowly lean away from his clothes drawer, your hand ready to snag a black hoodie of his slowly trailing towards the floor "i can explain."

"all my damn sweaters, my fuckin' hoodies. they all just vanished without a trace.." he starts, slowly stalking over to you. you squeak, slowing getting on your knees to prepare yourself should you have to break his ankles and sprint out of the room. he's fuming, eyebrows twitching "thought i was goin' crazy.."

"and all this time.."

"suki.." you try, voice wobbly as your knees shake with each step closer he gets.

"it's been fucking YOU ?!"

and he pounces.

with a squeal, you scramble and dash away just as he leaps for you and narrowly misses, he's got you cornered as you're on opossite sides of his bed while you beg for mercy and he keeps yelling at you to 'come here'. in a panick you grab one of his pillows and fling it at him.

it feels like the pillow slides down his face in slow motion to reveal a look so vile a demon appearing in front of you right now would scare you less

“you’re. so. dead.”

there’s really nowhere else for you to go. you’re truly cornered, you might as well just be buried right now. you think about the leftovers waiting for you in the fridge and how sero still hadn’t returned the manga he’d leant from you, but you’ve lived a pretty good life.

before your body can decide to move, katsuki leaps over to you tackling you and having you land straight onto his bed with a loud shriek.

frantically, you wave your hands around “wait, wait pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” but your begs of mercy are cut off when katsuki jams a finger into your side, causing you to yelp. he hovers over you with a mean smirk. and you know what’s coming.

“katsu—”

you don’t even get to finish before he jams his hands into your sides and mercilessly tickles you.

from an outsiders point of view? this is harmless. but your boyfriend is mean and the biggest asshole in the world because he knows all of your weak spots and the places he knows will have you shaking and gasping for breath. it felt like actually torture, really.

“thought you could get away with it, huh ?” he sneers, leaning down a bit more so he’s eye level with you “thought you could keep taking my shit and i’d just neeever find out, hm ? yeah ?”

“b-but i—ah ! didn’t—!” you gasp and squeal, choking on the sentences you can’t manage to push out of your throat as your eyes squeeze closed. you don’t have to see his face to know he’s enjoying this.

“you’re a fuckin’ thief.” he spits, backing up from you so you don’t headbutt him square in the nose from your thrashing. you’re response is nothing but a harsh gasp and he smirks wider.

you think he’s finally, finally taken pity on you when his fingers slow to a stop, but he glares down at you, hands still on either sides of you “say it.”

you can’t even catch your breath before he hurriedly pressed closer to your sides to scare you, you shriek “stop ! m’sorry !”

“not what i wanted you to say, try again.”

“you’re—” you take a breath “sucha”

his fingers graze your shirt and his eyes are wide, daring you to finish your sentence, you bring your hands up to try to hide his field of vision.

“OKAY ! okay, okay…” you slowly lower your hands away, finally dropping them at your sides with a sigh “m’ a thief…” you mumble in defeat, embarrassment creeping up on you not only from the fact that you got caught but that the blond above you clearly enjoyed your torture if the evil snickers you heard we’re any sign of that.

he hums in satisfaction “mhm, no good fuckin’ thief. should lock you up and throw away the key on your ass.” you hate how handsome he looks when he’s playful like this with you. your sides still hurt and your voice is croaky from how out of breath you were and for a moment you seriously thought you saw the pearly gates.

you pout, and all it does is make him smile wider.

your boyfriend is mean. and the biggest asshole in the entire fucking world.

“s’not my fault..your clothes are comfy.” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “and they smell good.”

he scoffs, leaning down closer towards you “that’s cus i fuckin’ wash them. and i haven’t been able to lately cus someone’s been stealing my entire closet.”

“i didn’t !”

“was boutta make me walk around naked, ya moron. all my clothes are gone.” you roll your eyes, he never lacked in the dramatics department.

“you’re such a drama queen.” you whine, sinking into his comforter. he ignores you and he presses your cheeks together with one hand, chuckling at your smooched cheeks and furrowed brows.

“stop stealing my stuff.” he announces slowly. he’s clear, no way you could’ve misunderstood him anyway. he sighs and presses a quick peck to your lips still pressed together

“if you want one of my sweaters r’something, jus’ come ask me. can give you one..or whatever.” he finishes, voice slightly muffled in embarrassment as he shoves his mouth against yours again and again making wet kissing sounds and you manage a giggle. he rolls his eyes, but a smile slowly crawls up his face anyway as he releases your cheeks. you let out a happy sigh, opening and closing your mouth to get rid of the slight soreness.

“take this shit off though.” he tugs at the hoodie you’re wearing “stinks. need to put it in the wash.”

“no it doesn’t !” you protest, pressing the color against your nose in an attempt to keep it close to you “it smells like you!” you pout. he doesn’t respond for a bit, opting to squint at you while the tips of his ears turned pink. and in a second his snatched the bottom of it and ripped it off of you, ripping a pathetic scream from you.

he examined his hoodie with an unreadable expression before his eyes land back on you for a second, then he slowly starts folding up his sweater “you trynna say i stink ?” he says lowly.

“no. i wouldn’t wear your clothes if they were nasty” you scrunch up your nose “you can take back the sweater in my room, though. the smell is starting to wear off.”

“gee, thanks for offering to give me my sweater back. weirdo” he glares, spitting his words out sarcastically and you giggle at his extra emphasis on his ownership of the hoodie which earns you a huff.

“ i’m grabbing all the shit you took from me, and they stay with me.” he starts warningly “but you can keep this, i guess..” he adds, patting on his now folded hoodie ready for a cleaning. you smile happily, running your socked feet into his blankets.

“ oh, but don’t forget to wear it first after you washed it, want it to smell like you. otherwise there’s no point.”

“you really are a fucking weirdo.” he spits, but the way his cheeks burn bright red say he’s not truly mad about it. you laugh, and katsuki grumbles. “hope you learned your lesson, freak.” he taunts. you hum in fake thought, then release a sigh.

“yeah, i guess i did.” you concede, and he nods proudly.

and sure, yeah, you’re boyfriend’s a big meanie. but you do a great job at riling him up.

“for now.”

[moonlight-joy]

Winter’s Bride

MASTERLIST

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: You are a southern lady, sent to marry Lord Cregan Stark as part of a political alliance during the Dance of Dragons. At first, you find him cold and distant, but as the harsh northern winter sets in, the ice between you begins to thaw.

Pairing: Reader/Cregan Stark

The air was sharp and cold as you stepped down from the carriage, your breath visible in the frigid northern air. The towering walls of Winterfell loomed before you, their ancient stones dusted with snow. The north was nothing like the lush green lands of your childhood; it was wild, untamed, and unyielding. Much like the man you were about to marry.

Lord Cregan Stark stood at the gates, his imposing figure framed by the snow-covered battlements. His expression was unreadable, his gray eyes as cold and distant as the land he ruled. You curtsied politely, the thick layers of your southern gown doing little to protect you from the biting chill.

“My lord,” you said, your voice steady despite the nerves that churned in your stomach.

He inclined his head, his tone formal. “Lady (Y/N). Welcome to Winterfell.”

And so began your new life as the bride of the North.

The days that followed were a blur of introductions and formalities. The northern lords regarded you with curiosity, some with open skepticism. You were an outsider, a southern lady who had no place in their harsh, unforgiving land. But you bore their scrutiny with grace, determined to fulfill your duty and prove your worth.

Cregan was courteous but distant, his focus consumed by the responsibilities of ruling Winterfell. He spoke little to you beyond what was necessary, and the silence between you grew heavier with each passing day.

One evening, as you sat by the fire in the great hall, you couldn’t hold back your frustration any longer.

“You don’t have to love me, my lord,” you said, breaking the tense silence. “But we must at least pretend to care for one another if this alliance is to succeed.”

Cregan looked up from the map he was studying, his expression unreadable. “I don’t need love to rule Winterfell,” he said simply.

You met his gaze, your own eyes blazing with defiance. “Good, because I wasn’t planning on falling in love with you.”

For a moment, his lips twitched as if he might smile, but the moment passed, and he returned to his work. “Then we are in agreement.”

As the harsh northern winter set in, you began to adapt to your new life. The chill that once bit at your skin became familiar, and you found solace in the warmth of the hearths and the sturdy walls of Winterfell. The northern people, initially wary of you, began to soften as they saw your efforts to learn their ways and contribute to their community.

You joined the women of the castle in spinning wool for winter cloaks, and you accompanied Cregan’s sister to the market square to distribute food to the smallfolk. The more you immersed yourself in northern life, the more you came to understand its people—and its lord.

Cregan remained distant, but there were moments when the ice between you seemed to thaw. You caught glimpses of the man beneath the lord: a fleeting smile as he watched the children of Winterfell play in the snow, a rare laugh shared with his trusted bannermen, or the way his eyes softened when he spoke of his family’s legacy.

One evening, as a snowstorm raged outside, you found yourself alone with Cregan in the library. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. You were reading by the light of a single candle when he entered, his presence filling the space.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said, pausing in the doorway.

“You’re not,” you replied, gesturing for him to sit. “I’m not used to being alone in such a large castle.”

He hesitated for a moment before taking a seat across from you. “The winters are long here. Solitude is something we learn to live with.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t have to be that way,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

Cregan didn’t reply, but the look in his eyes lingered, the cold gray depths reflecting something warmer, something unspoken.

The turning point came during a feast held in honor of the northern lords. As the wine flowed and the fires burned bright, one of the lords—a grizzled man with a scarred face—stood and addressed Cregan.

“Lord Stark, with all respect, how can we trust her?” he said, gesturing toward you. “A southern lady, sent here by those who would see the North weakened. How do we know her loyalty lies with us and not her own kin?”

The hall fell silent, all eyes turning to Cregan. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear and humiliation threatening to overwhelm you. But before you could respond, Cregan rose from his seat.

“Enough,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. “Lady (Y/N) is my wife, and her loyalty is to Winterfell. She has done nothing to earn your suspicion, and I will not have her honor questioned.”

The lord opened his mouth to protest, but Cregan cut him off with a sharp glare. “If you cannot respect her, then you do not respect me. And I will not tolerate such disrespect in my hall.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, and the tension eased as the feast continued. You sat in stunned silence, Cregan’s words echoing in your mind.

Later that night, as you prepared for bed, he entered your chambers. You turned to face him, your emotions a whirlwind of gratitude and confusion.

“Why did you defend me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Because you are my wife,” he said simply. “And because you’ve shown more strength and honor than most men in that hall tonight.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and for the first time, you saw not just the lord, but the man. The man who, beneath the ice, carried a heart capable of great warmth.

The following weeks brought a subtle but undeniable change. Cregan began seeking you out, whether to discuss the day’s events or to share a quiet meal. He asked your opinions on matters of the household, and he even invited you to accompany him on a hunt. Though his manner remained reserved, there was a newfound softness in his gaze when he looked at you.

One evening, as you walked together through the snow-covered godswood, he surprised you by taking your gloved hand in his. “The North can be a harsh place,” he said, his voice low. “But it’s not without its beauty. I hope you’ve come to see that.”

You smiled, your heart warming at the rare vulnerability in his tone. “I have. And I think I’m beginning to understand its people as well.”

“And its lord?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You met his gaze, your breath visible in the cold air. “I think I’m beginning to understand him too.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the snow falling softly around you. And in that moment, you felt the ice between you finally begin to melt, leaving room for something stronger, something enduring. Something that could weather even the harshest of winters.

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