#and the one going along with it thinks the one against it is responsible and vise versa bc they noticed they're doing different things

[girlgenius1111]

sick day

alexia putellas x reader... mila fic illness strikes the putellas household, and alexia is determined to take care of her baby... even if she is sick too. you think about how far your wife has come. sickfic things :) soft mami alexia 🙂

Alexia’s alarm blared through the house, waking you up where you were passed out in the rocking chair in Mila’s room. Your daughter stirred, but was evidently too exhausted from keeping you up half the night to fully wake up. 

Somewhat grumpily, you stood up and stretched, before making your way to the bedroom. You were assuming Alexia had gotten up early and started to get dressed without turning off her alarm, leaving it to go off on her nightstand. When you walked into the room, though, and saw her still out cold in bed, you instantly knew something was wrong. You turned her alarm off and gently tried to rouse your wife. Her skin was hot to the touch, and you frowned, beginning to have an idea as to what was wrong with the blonde. 

Pushing a few sweaty strands of hair off her forehead, you watched as her face scrunched with discomfort. “Baby, wake up for me.” You murmured. 

Alexia just groaned in response, reaching out a hand to grab a fistful of your shirt, as if she was afraid you were going to go. 

“You’re really hot. Are you feeling okay?” 

Alexia shook her head mutely, squirming until she had kicked the covers away from one of her legs. You knew she was feeling bad, if only for the lack of jokes made about you calling her ‘really hot’. 

“Sick.” She mumbled pathetically, tugging on your shirt until you gave in and sat on the bed next to her. She snuggled into your side, radiating heat, and you tried not to flinch away when her warm cheek pressed onto your thigh. You carded your fingers through her hair, making a mental list of all the things you’d need to grab and make sure to do, the first of which being calling her out of training. Once you had texted the other captains, trusting them to pass the message along to the coaching staff, you focused back on Alexia. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well. Let me get you some medicine, okay?” 

You tried to slide out of her grasp, but she wouldn’t budge. Her arms remained wrapped around your leg, her cheek firmly planted against it. “No. Stay. Need you.” She murmured, not making very much sense. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I just want to grab something to help you feel better.” You told her, smiling a bit at the pout on her face, and the way she shook her head into you. 

“No. You make me feel better. Stay.” She insisted, pressing herself even further into you as if to prove a point. As you were about to respond, though, you heard a soft ‘Mama!’ come over the baby monitor, and Alexia shot upright. “Mila.” She said raspily, clearly delirious with fever as she tried to climb out of bed. You stopped her, gently pushing her to lie back down. 

“No. Stay.” You echoed her words from before. “I’ll check on Meels, you stay here.” 

“Bring her?” Alexia asked, relenting as she flopped back onto the pillows. 

You shook your head sympathetically, though. “No, I don’t want you to get her sick.” 

Alexia frowned but nodded nonetheless, gesturing for you to go to the baby, who was still making quite the racket. “Give her a kiss for me.” Alexia said sadly.

Alexia drifted off while you went to check on your daughter, picking her up and frowning at the heat coming off her skin as well. She whined, flopping into your chest without saying a word. 

Your wife startled awake when you reentered the room, looking surprised and concerned at the sight of a very grumpy baby in your arms. She was still in her pajamas, her cheek resting on your shoulder as she pouted, clearly feeling as awful as her Mami did. 

“Amor?” Alexia questioned, sitting up with a grimace as her head pounded at the movement. 

“She’s sick too, I think. She’s got a fever and she’s all stuffed up.” You commented. “So you two can be sick in here together.” You handed Mila to Alexia, heart almost bursting at the sight of Alexia carefully cradling her daughter to her chest and resting a hand on her forehead. Mila was still frowning, though she snuggled into Alexia as soon as she could. 

Alexia looked up at you in a panic. “She is really warm! We need to take her temperature and give her medicine and something to eat, and maybe some water, and we should call the doctor just in case,” 

“I’ve got it. I’ll take care of both my girls.” You assured her, pressing a lingering kiss to her hot forehead. “Just sit here with her while I get some stuff for you both.” 

You rushed around the house, gathering the thermometer, some crackers, adult and baby medicine, and snagging Mila’s plush bear that she was rather obsessed with, before heading back to your bedroom. You walked in, not really looking up at your wife before dumping everything onto the bed, and picking out the thermometer. You turned to Alexia, ready to wrangle her into letting you take her temperature, only to find her sniffling, her eyes suspiciously glossy. 

“Ale?” You said softly, stepping closer to cup her face in your hand. “Why are you crying?” 

“Did I get her sick?” Alexia asked tearfully, staring down at the slumbering baby. “Is she sick because of me?” 

You repressed a sigh, instead opting to lean forward and kiss your wife’s forehead. “Ale, you got sick today. You can’t have gotten her sick if she came down with it at the same time.” 

“Oh. Right.” Alexia sniffled. She settled back into the pillows, her arms keeping Mila held tightly against her. “I knew that. I can barely think straight, my head is all cloudy.” 

She sounded miserable, and you thought back to a time where Alexia would only admit what was wrong once she hit her absolute breaking point. 

—

You hadn’t thought about it, until that day, that in the entire year you’d been with Alexia, you’d never seen her sick. Either the woman had an insane immune system, or she didn’t let you see her sick. But with an important training session today, Alexia couldn’t avoid you like she normally would have. And for some reason, she was having a harder time than normal pretending she was okay. 

Her movements were sluggish, her eyes squinting from the sun in a way they normally never did. She’d barely had any water, and her hands shook whenever she pointed out where she wanted the ball. Everyone could see it, but no one had the guts to tell their captain that she looked like she shouldn’t be training. 

Well, no one but you. You’d watched on for long enough, hoping that she would take a break for herself, without anyone having to make her, but after she pushed away a water bottle handed in her direction, opting instead to glare off into the distance, you were tired of waiting. Her face had grown alarmingly pale, suddenly devoid of any color despite the high temperatures. Training was almost done anyway, and you quietly asked the coach for permission to try to get Alexia to step away and go home with you early. He easily agreed, able to see like everyone else that your girlfriend was barely still on her feet. It was alarming that she didn’t notice you speaking to him, even more alarming when she didn’t move even an inch when you grabbed her hand in yours. Normally, she didn’t like to be very physical with you at work, wanting to remain professional. 

“Ale?” You said gently. She just grunted in response, staring off at the sky with her jaw clenched. “Come on, baby.” 

You���d correctly clocked that she wasn’t speaking, for whatever reason, so she was unable to argue with you as you began to pull her towards the locker room. Her hand was clammy in yours, and she stumbled slightly next to you as you both walked. You wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. Only when you arrived in the changing room did you let go, guiding her to sit down on the bench in front of her locker. 

“Alexia?” You prompted, crouching down in front of her. She looked at you for the first time, eyes filling with tears. Hastily, you placed both your hands on her knees, trying to soothe her. “Talk to me.” 

“I… I might be a little sick.” She managed, blinking hard. “I’m okay, though. Really.”  

“Alexia.” You fixed her with a look which only made her look like a defiant toddler. 

She frowned at you, not used to being called out on the bullshit she spewed when she was sick. “It’s just a little… insect?” 

“A little bug.” You corrected with a smile, rubbing your thumb across her cheekbone affectionately. “Tell me your symptoms.”  

“No-”

“Alexia, we have a match this weekend and if you want to be better in time, you need to tell me how sick you are so I can help.” 

Alexia’s frown deepened, but she relented, dropping her head as she spoke. “Throat hurts. Really bad.” She croaked, coughing weakly into the crook of her elbow. “Head. Stomach. Nose is all… stuffed.” 

She seemed genuinely distraught to be so ill, like her body had betrayed her, which you supposed it had. But this is what happened when you ran yourself into the ground, not that you’d tell Alexia that right now. That lecture could wait. 

“Okay. We’re going to go home, take a shower, take some cold medicine, and you’re going to go right to bed.” 

“Amor,” She whined, looking longingly back out at the training ground. 

You scoffed. “I’m not asking Putellas. Get your bag.” 

With a sigh and a glare sent your way, she slipped her boots off and her slides on as you did the same. She stood, bag slung over her shoulder, looking absolutely miserable as you both began to make your way to the car. You reached for her hand, a bit relieved when she intertwined her fingers with yours; she wasn’t really mad, then. It was silent for a few moments, before her raspy voice pulled you from your thoughts.  

“Amor? Can you carry my bag?” She asked quietly, her face burning with shame… or maybe that was just the fever. Either way, you smiled encouragingly at her, nodding and throwing her bag over your shoulder. It was one of the first times Alexia asked you for help in a genuine, meaningful way, and it made you ridiculously happy. 

—

Alexia didn’t seem to have the same reservations now as she did then, and for that you were grateful. She dutifully opened her mouth to let you take her temperature, her fingers fidgeting with Mila’s wisps of hair. The baby was out cold on her Mami, letting out the smallest and most adorable snores you’d ever heard in your life. 

The thermometer beeped and you pulled it away to check the little screen, frowning down at the result. 

“What?” Alexia asked, feeling irrationally worried that her fever would be high enough for her to need to go see a doctor. 

“I don’t know, Ale. This says you’re really hot.” You said, eyebrows knit together as you looked back up at her. 

“Too hot?” 

You forced yourself to remain serious. “Maybe we should see a doctor… but I’m not sure who specializes in making people less sexy?”

Alexia’s frown gave way to a small smile before she forced a glare back on her face. “Tonta. You scared me!” 

“You were frowning too much, I had to do something.” You laughed, patting her cheek affectionately. “Just a small fever, don’t worry. Move Mila a bit so I can get hers?”

Alexia shifted her arms protectively around the baby. “Amor she’s sleeping, don’t wake her.” 

You rolled your eyes, picking up the other thermometer, the one that went across the forehead. “This won’t wake her.” 

Alexia stared at you as you took Mila’s temperature, smoothing the thermometer across her forehead.  “Why didn’t you use that one on me?” She asked, borderline pouting at this point. 

“Your head is too big for it.” You said casually, reaching for the box that had Mila’s baby medicine in it. 

“Hey!” Alexia protested. “I have a regular sized head!” 

You chuckled, reading the label on the back of the box to yourself before giving Alexia your attention. “Ale, amor, that is a baby thermometer.” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh.” You mocked, dodging her hand as it came out to lightly hit your arm. “She has to take her medicine with food, but her fever isn’t too bad yet so I think we can let her sleep. You should eat something so you can take something, though.” 

Alexia grew pale at your words, and she shook her head. “No thank you.” 

“Not hungry?”Alexia shook her head again, lips pressed tightly together. “Are you nauseous?” 

This time, you got a small nod. You handed her her water bottle, instructing her to take small sips. “You’re probably dehydrated. Let me get you some electrolyte water.” 

“And cough drops, please. And a cool washcloth for my head. And one for Mila’s. And-”

“I’ll get it all, Ale, don’t worry.” You promised, amused as you always were at how easily Alexia now allowed you to take care of her. 

“Thank you, amor.” She called out sweetly, shifting under the covers so that her and Mila were nice and tucked in.

You shook your head, impressed with Alexia for her growth, and honestly with yourself for forcing it. She had, once, been the most difficult patient.

—

It was routine, at this point, for you to show up at Alexia’s the morning after a match, coffee and pastries in hand. You and Alexia both needed time to unwind by yourselves, so you each spent the night at your own apartments, before spending the entire off day together. Really, both of you wished deeply that there was no night away from each other, but the prospect of bringing that up and seeming clingy terrified you both out of saying anything. 

You knocked, as you always did, expecting your girlfriend to quickly answer the door, still cozy in her pajamas, all ready to spend the day the way she most liked; with you. This time, though, there was no audible movement from the other side of the door, no Alexia greeting you with a soft smile and a peck on the cheek. You knocked again, torn between worrying for Alexia, and worrying that, somehow, you’d completely missed some signal that she didn’t want you to come over today. 

Before you could knock for a third time, though, the door opened, just a crack. Alexia looked horrible, her face sickly pale and a sheen of sweat visible on her forehead. She had a deep frown set on her face, one that you immediately matched. 

“Ale-?”

“Go home. Please.”

The thought of feeling rejected didn’t even cross your mind, too concerned by the raspy sound of your girlfriend's voice, the squint of her eyes as she looked at you. 

“What’s wrong baby?” 

“Just a headache. I’ll be okay tomorrow.” She rasped, attempting to shut the door on you. You shoved your foot in just in time, hearing her sigh as she allowed you to push your way into her apartment. All the shades were drawn, every light off, and you quickly shut the door behind you, stopping the flood of light from the hallway. Alexia relaxed minutely after you did so, though she continued to try to get you to leave. “Amor, please. I just need quiet and sleep.” 

For a moment, you felt unsure of yourself. The last, and only, time you’d seen Alexia sick, it had been a quick 24 hour thing, and there wasn’t much you could do for her. There wasn’t much she’d let you do for her, other than dropping her off at home and allowing you to make sure she had cold medicine in her cabinet. 

You reached out, placing your hand on her arm, feeling slightly emboldened by the way she leaned into the contact. “You can have quiet and sleep even if I’m here taking care of you.” 

Alexia shook her head, grimacing at the motion. “No, it’s your day off. Go do something fun, you don’t have to be here with me.” 

You gave her an odd look, taking her hand in yours as you began to pull her back to her bedroom. “I want to be here. Besides, I won’t have any fun knowing you’re miserable here all by yourself.” 

“But amor,”

“No, Ale. I’m staying.” 

Acting more confident than you felt, you guided her towards her bed, shoving gently at her arms to get her to sit down on the edge. She slumped down, barely having the strength to hold herself up, let alone argue anymore with you. You sighed sympathetically, cradling her cheek in your hand. 

“Just a headache?” You asked doubtfully. 

Alexia let out a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a groan, opening her eyes to blearily look at you. “Maybe… maybe it is a migraine.” 

“Maybe.” You scoffed quietly, guiding her to lay down and pulling the covers up around her. “I’ll let you sleep in a minute, but have you taken anything?” 

Your girlfriend’s grimace deepened. “No. I do not need anything.” 

“Ale-”

“I said no.” Alexia snapped, guilt panging in her chest at the hurt look on your face. She knew, logically, that you were just trying to help but the prospect of taking medicine, of admitting that she really wasn’t okay was completely terrifying to her. She didn’t want to admit any weakness, especially not to you. She had to be the strong one. That was the role she’d always played in relationships, the role she played in life, and she didn’t intend for that to change now. 

Alexia had to be okay, so that she could make sure you were okay. 

Ridiculously, she felt tears cloud her eyes, a few threatening to fall as you turned around and walked out of her room without another word. She didn’t object, thinking that you were leaving, and she deserved nothing less with the way she’d treated you today. The blonde remained silent as she cried, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would lessen the pain in her head, and in her chest. Only now that you were gone did she realize how much she wanted you to just… be here with her. 

Too focused on breathing through her tears, she didn’t hear you walking back into the room until you were right next to the bed, thumb brushing a tear off her cheek. 

“You’re okay, love. You’re going to feel better soon, please just take these for me.” You requested, holding out your hand in which a few pills sat. Alexia’s eyes blinked open in surprise, her lip trembling as she looked up at you in wonder. She reached for the pills, still completely silent, taking them dry.  

“I am sorry.” She rasped after a second. You reached for her water, brows knitted together as you tried to work out what she was apologizing for. “You can go. You do not have to stay, I understand.” 

You shook your head, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and pushing her hair out of her face. It was down, probably only making her hotter, and you made a mental note to put it up for her when you had a second. 

“Ale, I told you. I’m not going anywhere.” You promised, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Can I get you to eat something?” 

Your girlfriend still looked very confused. “N-no. I tried to eat and it didn’t go well.” She blushed heavily at the statement, but you didn’t look phased at all, continuing to stroke her hair. 

“Okay. Just small sips of water then. Anything else you need, baby?” 

Again, Ale shook her head. “No, I am okay. I am fine, amor, please do not worry or feel like you have to stay, I really feel fine-”

You cut her off, covering her mouth with your hand. She looked affronted, and you fought back a smile. 

“I’m staying, Alexia. And please stop saying you’re fine, you aren’t. It’s okay, you don’t have to be fine.” 

The blonde just blinked at you before slowly nodding her head. Her eyes were beginning to droop, her grip on your shirt loosening just slightly. 

“Okay, close your eyes. I’m just going to grab one more thing and then I’ll be back.” 

It only took a few minutes for you to grab a small towel out of her linen closet and wet it with cool water before returning to her room. Alexia’s eyes weren’t shut. Instead, they were open, tracking your every movement as she fought sleep. She sighed in relief when you laid the towel across her forehead, though she still clearly refused to let herself sleep, gaze still fixed on you. 

“Thank you.” She said softly, the words feeling inadequate, yet the look in your eyes told her that you understood how grateful she was in that moment. 

“Of course, baby. Do you need anything else?” 

Alexia hesitated for a moment, stealing herself before she took a deep breath and patted the spot on the bed next to her hopefully. You smiled at her, the sunshine smile she always got lost in, the sight of it making the pain in her head dull for just a moment. 

Before getting under the covers with her, you took your shirt off and discarded it onto the floor, for your benefit as much as hers. Alexia was absolutely radiating heat, but you didn’t dare pull the covers away from her while she was awake. 

Finally, you slid into the bed with Alexia. Nudging the midfielder forward, you situated yourself behind her, allowing her to rest back against your body. Her warm cheek turn to settle against your chest, and even though the towel touching your skin gave you chills, you were happy to provide her a bit of comfort. 

“Feeling a bit better?” You asked, brushing a piece of hair away from her sweaty forehead. 

“Yeah.” She admitted. 

She really was. Her head already felt better from the medicine, her body temperature wasn’t as suffocating, and the comfort she got from the feeling of being held by you was inexplicable. 

“You are… good medicine.” She mumbled, hands resting over where yours lay across her stomach. 

You smiled, pressing a kiss into her hair. Sick Ale, when she wasn’t being ridiculously stubborn, was incredibly adorable. 

—

It was this same medicine that Alexia preferred, even now. Years had passed, and she still swore that laying in your arms made her feel better than any pill she could take. Evidently, Mila agreed, because she’d spent the day either sprawled across either Alexia’s chest or yours. 

She stubbornly turned away from the little cup of medicine you tried to get her to take, grumpily grumbling into her Mami’s shirt as she hid from you. 

“Mila,” you laughed, running your nails up and down her back. The baby just grunted, though she’d started talking in earnest recently, phrases and sentences coming along nicely though she preferred one word answers most of the time. “Come on, baby. It’ll make you feel better.” 

“No.” Mila declared, clinging tightly onto Alexia’s shirt as if her Mami wouldn’t make her take the medicine she so despised. Which, in any other case, would have been accurate. Now, though, Mila’s temperature was high and she looked completely miserable. The medicine was necessary, and you both knew it. 

“Mila, venga.” Alexia pried her baby’s hands off her shirt, turning her around so there was nowhere for her to hide. Mila promptly burst into tears at the sight of you still sitting on the edge of the bed, the red liquid in hand. Alexia shushed her, sitting up with a frown, growing paler as she did so. 

“Don’t want it,” Mila sobbed, looking pleadingly between you and your wife. 

Alexia looked at you, and you looked right back at her. Being sick wouldn’t get Alexia out of having to play the bad cop; you’d made it clear that Alexia couldn’t just rely on you to be strict with Mila after the 10th time she picked Mila up from her tummy time before she was done. 

“I’ll take it with you, cariño, sí? You take your medicine, and Mama will put on a movie for you, and you can have some ice cream. Okay?” 

You rolled your eyes at the bribery, though you really didn’t care and were moments off of doing the same thing. 

“Okay.” Mila huffed dramatically, glaring as you brought the medicine to her lips. “No! Mami first.” 

“Vale, vale” Alexia chuckled, taking the cup from your hand and tossing it back easily. Mila watched her closely, looking somewhat placated when your wife didn’t make a face. You refilled the cup, smiling proudly when Mila allowed you to tip it into her mouth. She made a face, spluttering unnecessarily at the taste. 

“Yucky!” She exclaimed, frowning at the bottle of children's medicine until you put it on the nightstand, out of sight. “Ice cream.” 

“Okay, princesa. Ice cream.” You agreed, kissing her on the forehead and heading out of the room, not thinking to glance at your wife’s face. 

Something you would regret when you entered the room again, the question of if Mila wanted sprinkles or not on the tip of your tongue, only to find the two and a half year old sitting by herself on the bed, eyes fixed on the TV. 

“Mila? Where is Mami?” You wondered, glancing towards the bathroom door but not seeing a light coming from underneath. 

Wordlessly, Mila pointed to the bathroom, entranced by the movie playing. 

With a frown you walked to the bathroom door, knocking and waiting a beat before pushing it open. Alexia was hunched over the toilet, trying in vain to keep the sound of her being sick quiet. 

“Oh, Ale,” you sighed, leaving the door open a crack behind you before crouching down at your wife’s side. 

She finished, leaning back into you with an exhausted sigh. You flushed the toilet and allowed your wife to settle back against your chest. 

“Joder.” She swore. “That medicine is horrible, mi amor. I almost threw up all over Mila.” 

You laughed, running your hand up and down her abdomen. “I’m sorry, love. You were very brave.” 

She pouted slightly, sitting up off you and attempting to climb to her feet. “I’m just glad Mila didn’t throw up.” 

You got up too, wrapping an arm around her waist when she took an unsteady step towards the door. “Ale, don’t say that yet–”

As you were about to finish your sentence, almost as if she understood comedic timing, Mila shouted out from the bedroom. 

“Mami! Don’t feel good,” she cried, a tremble to her voice that told you what was coming. Abandoning Alexia in favor of saving your sheets, you moved as fast as you could out of the bathroom and to Mila’s side, arriving just a second too late. You rubbed her back as she threw up onto the bed, cringing internally at what cleaning this up would entail. Alexia stepped out of the bathroom, face going white again at the sight in front of her, wordlessly holding out her arms for Mila. 

“Bath time, mija.” She said soothingly, picking her daughter up and looking at you. “I can change the bedding once–”

You rolled your eyes fondly, gently nudging her towards the bathroom door. “No, Ale. I’ll handle the bed. You get her cleaned up.” 

Alexia nodded wearily, knowing full well she would only be capable of getting Mila clean before she collapsed back onto the bed in exhaustion. Hopefully, onto some clean sheets. 

“Sorry, Mami.” Mila whimpered, clinging on tight to your wife as she was carried into the bathroom. 

“It’s alright, Mija. I threw up, too. It happens. We just have to rest until we feel better, vale?” 

You smiled, beginning to pull the sheets off the bed. Ale had come so far her somewhat self destructive habits fading with time, and with love from you. She liked to take care of herself, now, if for no other reason than to be a good example for her daughter. 

You ended up under the fresh sheets and covers an hour later, your wife settled between your legs, back to your chest. You ran your fingers through her hair and she did the same to Mila, her daughter laid directly on top of her, dressed in a clean, fuzzy onesie. Mila was so much like your wife, and you were grateful for that every day. 

“Cariño? Do you want to take some more medicine?” Alexia wondered, rubbing her hand over her daughter’s back. After the earlier… incident… you’d agreed not to push the medicine issue, especially since Mila’s fever had dropped. 

Mila frowned up at her Mami, shoving her face into Alexia’s shirt. 

“No. Cuddles.” She grumbled. 

Alexia chuckled, kissing the top of her daughter's head. 

“Sounds familiar.” You noted, smiling softly at the shy grin on your wife’s face. "She's just like you."

“Yeah.” She agreed. “Thank you, amor.” 

Whether she was thanking you for Mila, or also reminiscing on her old stubborn self, you didn’t know. You just kissed her temple, happy to have given it all to her. 

“I love you.” You told her. 

“I love you too.” She whispered back. 

“Me?” Mila piped up, sniffling as she sat up and looked at the two of you expectantly. You and Alexia both laughed, your wife pulling Mila back down to lay against her. 

“Of course you, too, silly.” You said. 

“We love you the most.” Alexia promised. 

—

this has been in my drafts for. at least 3 months. maybe more. hope you enjoy :)

[1d1195]

Honey VI

Read Honey here | ~5.3k words

From me: I know not everyone likes smut so you can read this part directly after part 4 if you'd like. All you need to know is that they had sex in part 5.

Warnings: ANGST, fluff, mentions of sex but not describing everything. I don't think you'll like the ending to this part hehehe

Summary: “Hey kitten,” he hummed, settling her on the mattress. She looked so perfect there. Beautiful.

“Hmm?” She tucked herself into his sheets. Her face smushed into his pillow. He smiled, rubbed his hand on her hip and slipped into bed beside her. Her eyes were closed.

“Happy belated birthday.”

She snorted and tucked her face into his chest. “Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

Harry tossed the blanket on the back of the couch across her body. She was stretched out the length of his, her ear right on his chest, her hands cupped on the top of each of his shoulders. Her hips wedged between his legs. He wondered if she felt that his dick was already hardening pressing against the fabric of her underwear.

Pulling the thin piece of her panties from her center was one of the hottest things he had ever done before lining himself up with her. He worried he would never want her to take her underwear off just so he could gaze at the way it looked. (Although he was certain he could be convinced otherwise). His hands went to her back, and he kissed the top of her head. “You okay, love?” He asked. She nodded silently. “Y’sure?” Another wordless shake of her head. Harry ran his hand up and down her spine lightly tracing her skin like there was a pattern for him to follow. “Y’can sleep, kitten,” he whispered.

She had sex before, but it was never like that. Her body was exhausted, her face felt flushed and yeah, she was really sleepy. “Mmm?” She sighed. “Okay,” she mumbled.

“Night, love,” he kissed along her hairline.

*

They both seemed to wake up at the same time and without a clock or their phones nearby, there was no way to tell how late it was. Cece hadn’t made a peep, so she was still in the early stages of her deepest sleep. So only a few hours had passed, since her bedtime. It was still pitch black, so the power hadn’t returned either.

Harry kissed her hairline again, unaware that she was awake. In response, she kissed his chest, nosing at his skin.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You can’t see me.”

“Don’t need to.”

She smiled.

“Tell me ‘bout you,” he murmured.

“Tell you what?”

“Well, I know your favorite food is French fries and that y’like dogs more than cats. I know y’love your family even if they’re lazy and don’t show how much they love you. I know where y’went t’school and your best friend’s name is Eliza even if y’hardly see her or talk t’her.”

“There’s not much else to know,” she shrugged one shoulder.

“Why did y’start nannying? With your degree?”

She bit her lip. “I babysat most of my life,” but her voice had an edge to it. There was more and she didn’t want to tell him. Harry could sense it.

“Y’have a psychology degree with a concentration in child development. And y’have a minor in business. Something tells me that y’didn’t intend t’be a nanny. Even if you’re good at it.”

There was a long pause. Harry thought she fell asleep again. Her voice was soft. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Scare me?”

She nodded. “It’s that baggage I mentioned?”

“I told you I would carry it,” he reminded her.

She didn’t think he didn’t mean it, but she didn’t think he knew what he was saying right before he slid his finger inside her. Her brain was already mush at that point and Harry could have told her anything as long as he made her come the way he did. Taking a deep breath, she was grateful for the dark. “I’ve wanted to be a mom my whole life,” she explained. That didn’t surprise him in the least. The way she held Cece and how kind, adoring, and doting it would be obvious to someone who was blind that she was going to be the most tremendous mother.

“I took care of dolls my entire childhood. Then there was my baby brother. I babysat from the time I was thirteen and all throughout college,” another deep breath. “I met my one and only ex-boyfriend on my first day of college classes. I was eighteen in an intro to business class. I figured if I wanted to open a daycare of my own, it would be good knowledge, right?” Harry’s finger danced along the side of her neck stroking a line up and down not saying anything, just listening. “He was young and didn’t want kids and I didn’t blame him. What eighteen-year-old does? I know I was a rarity—I had a baby brother and was around babies my whole life. I figured he would have grown out of it.”

“He didn’t grow out of it?” Harry asked.

“No... but he told me that he was definitely changing his mind. Every time I mentioned our future or our future children, he just...” she sighed. “He would say things like ‘of course, angel,’” her tone dropped an octave to imitate him. “But he talked about business and cruises. He talked about these extravagant parties and gatherings. Living overseas and expanding his business,” she shrugged. “It sounded nice, but I wanted kids.”

“You were still young,” Harry murmured. He wasn’t agreeing, but he was curious how her college-sweetheart just stopped being that. Surely that was something that would change with time.

“That’s why I stayed with him,” her voice was indifferent. “It wasn’t a bad thing at the time. I knew we both still had plenty of time,” her throat caught on the word time, and she cleared it. “He actually encouraged me to start nannying.”

Harry didn’t like her ex because she deserved everything she wanted. If she wanted to sell Harry’s company, he would do it for her. All he wanted was to see her smile. But if he was the reason that Harry found her... well... maybe he couldn’t hate him too much.

“I’ve always been pretty nurturing, protective, et cetera...” she shrugged. “My friends called me mom in college. I walked around with a mini pharmacy in my purse, and I never got drunk in college because I was busy taking care of my friends. So, my boyfriend figured I would do well, and he introduced me to a friend of a friend who wanted someone to watch their newborn.” She rolled her lips into her mouth before continuing. “I was twenty-two and I have loved babies my whole life. I stopped nannying him when he was three years old. That sweet little boy would be five now and I worry about him every day. Leaving him was the hardest thing I ever did.”

Harry frowned and kissed the top of her head, squeezing her gently. “Why?”

“His parents weren’t around. You said you felt like you weren’t there for Cece. Harry, you have no idea what some parents are like. I was going to doctor’s visits and buying Christmas presents for him on behalf of his parents. I took him to visit family that treated me like his big sister or an aunt—like I was their family and not his parents. It was awful. When I left, I felt like I gave my own child to a pair of strangers. It hurt so much. I cried for a week and seriously considered never babysitting ever again,” she sniffed and shook her head. “I stopped following them on social media. I would have kept asking because I was so scared. I had to stop, or I would... never let go and he wasn’t mine. He wasn’t,” she shook her head. “They made sure to tell me so. Every time I encouraged a change in eating habits or suggested they monitor his sleeping... they berated me for overstepping.”

“Probably because they were embarrassed, love,” he frowned and cupped the back of her head. Harry was seriously addicted to kissing her. It didn’t have to be her lips, though he loved that too. Kissing her hairline and touching her soft, delicate face was becoming his favorite thing.

“Yeah, but...” she shrugged. “It means a lot to me that you value my opinion. I don’t think you’re a bad dad at all, but you don’t mind asking questions. It’s... it’s like, I would never open a business without asking for your help,” she explained. “Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” he nodded. “I would be lost without you,” his heart hurt on her behalf. “Why did y’leave?” He asked.

She swallowed. “They were pregnant,” Harry waited. “I was there six days a week from six in the morning until eight in the evening. I was exhausted and it wasn’t because I didn’t love what I was doing, I did. I loved it so much,” she whispered. “But they had made me the most important part of their family and they didn’t even know their little boy,” her voice cracked. “He told me he wished I was his mom,” her voice was hardly audible.

“Oh, kitten,” he pulled her in closer. “He loved you so much.”

“It wasn’t fair to me,” she sniffled. “I just left him.”

“Y’had to, love.”

“He told me he hated me.”

“He was three, sweetheart. Of course he did,” he hummed and kissed the top of her head. “Y’were his favorite person, his best friend.” She sobbed and Harry held her tighter, wishing he could take her pain away. “Y’did the right thing,” he assured her. “Even if it didn’t feel like it.”

She swallowed. “Everyone told me I was an idiot.”

Harry frowned. “Who said that?”

“My family, my boyfriend, my friends,” she listed. “It was such a good job. I could pay my rent and all my bills. I hung out with the cutest kid,” she swallowed.

“Did y’tell them all that other stuff?”

She nodded. “Yeah. They didn’t get it. My boyfriend said I was getting to have a baby—two even, without having to ruin my body or any—”

“God, please tell me y’broke up with him.”

She huffed a breath of sniveling laughter. “Not yet.”

Harry sighed. “So y’found another family?”

She nodded. “I had babysat for Mitch and Sarah before. I was so heartbroken, but I’m a sucker for a cute kid and a mom and dad that are in desperate need of a date night,” she smiled. “Have you seen their kid?”

He chuckled. “He’s sweet, huh?”

“I watched him weekly. Just a date night. It was only a few hours, but they were in awe because I would get bored and clean or whatever they needed. I just did it. I didn’t think about it because I was just...used to it. So, they said they had a couple that needed a nanny,” she swallowed. “I was genuinely scared. I was afraid I would be taken advantage of and I was worried... worried I was going to fall in love with them again,” she whispered. “I did, but it was better this time. Hannah and Pete were parents who wanted to be parents. They loved me, I’m sure you saw, but I was just there to keep their babies safe.”

Harry remembered the glowing recommendations. “Tara and Xavier right?” He asked. She nodded.

“It was a blessing Tara was three years old when I met her and not Xavier. I might not have done it.”

“What about your boyfriend?”

She swallowed. “I was home more, and I noticed that...he wasn’t.”

“What was his name? Y’never said.”

“Cody,” she mumbled.

There was more quiet that ensued while she gathered her thoughts. “I was twenty-four and we had been together for almost seven years...” she took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to be married necessarily nor have kids right that second... but...”

“But he didn’t really change?” He finished.

“No, he did,” her voice was hollow. “Just... not for me.”

Oh no. “Kitten,” he hummed. “What—”

“She was pregnant,” she said softly. “Three months along by the time I found out.”

Harry meant what he said about Cece and a sibling. She was still his baby, and he wanted to make sure she got the attention she deserved because he loved her more than anything in the world. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to give her a sibling. One with Miss Honey? Harry could only be so lucky. “I hate Cody,” he grumbled.

“I’m not really a fan myself,” she whispered. Harry kissed her forehead and wished he could take her heart out and massage it like it was a sore muscle and fix it for her. “Hannah insisted I move in,” she swallowed. “I felt so stupid.”

“That was not your fault, love. Y’shouldn’t feel stupid. He’s an idiot.”

“I love my family,” she whispered. “I love them more than anything on this earth,” she swallowed. “But sometimes, I don’t think anyone loves me the way I love them,” she mumbled. “I feel really selfish saying that and I just thought that if I had a family of my own, the one I imagined with Cody and all the babies I wanted to have, then maybe I would feel loved. Like I was someone’s first choice because...” she trailed off and Harry felt a tear fall on his chest right from her cheek. She didn’t speak and Harry waited and waited.

“Christ, kitten,” he muttered. “If y’want a family. Y’deserve one.”

She didn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t want to cry more; honestly, Harry didn’t want her to cry either. He wasn’t sure he could console her without promising to marry her right then and there. How someone dated her for seven years and never proposed was beyond him. It hadn’t even been seven hours since he’d been inside her and he was considering it.

“I’d have to quit nannying,” she added her voice was quiet. “I’m also only freshly twenty-seven. There’s still ample time. But... I have a lot of trust issues, obviously.”

“Kitten,” he tutted. “Don’t you think—”

“I don’t want to scare you,” she started which instantly made his heart beat a little faster. His body felt a little hotter. His throat a little tighter around the words he was going to say. “But I’m... my biological clock is a slave to time and if Cece turns five and starts kindergarten, then I’m probably going to have to—”

“Love, stop,” he interrupted. He wanted to say that he would give her everything. But he had her body wrapped around his less than three hours ago. Coming around his fingers, his tongue, his dick.

“Harry, I...” she swallowed. “I love Cece. An embarrassing amount,” she had a smile in her voice. “It’s impossible to find someone understanding of the nanny thing. Now I’ll always worry that the person I’m with is off making his own family with someone else,” she admitted.

“So you’re jus’ going t’accept that and... not have a family of your own?”

“No, I’ve done some research on sperm donation. It’s my best option. And that’s fine. I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I’m not sure I’d be a good wife.”

There was truly no way Harry could fathom that. There was no way she wasn’t the best at anything she did. Fuck, she was a better secretary than anyone he could possibly hire. “How are you holding up with all that baggage?”

“Light as a feather,” he mumbled grumpily. He kissed her temple. He was already planning, plotting. Hoping.

“It... it was nice talking about it,” she whispered. “What’s in your dick that made me blab all that?”

He chuckled. “Truth serum.”

“That’s disgusting,” she gagged. “Don’t tell other girls that, they won’t like it. You’re lucky I’m so cool.”

Harry wanted to ask her if she really thought there were other girls. There weren’t. But if there had been, they paled in comparison to her. There was no one else. There could be no one else anymore. He had been waiting for someone like her, unable to believe he could have someone like her any longer. He had a baby to care for and a company to run. Women didn’t love him for him anymore.

Harry didn’t love anyone besides his baby, his company, and his family.

But he hadn’t accounted for Miss Honey and her sweetness, her kindness.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry realized how tired he was again. Poor thing had to be emotionally exhausted as well. He gently moved her to the inside of the couch “Sit up for me, kitten,” he asked quietly. She rubbed her eye that extra cute way that she did like when he went to her bedroom door in the middle of the night for help with Cece.

He slipped his boxers back on and turned off the little battery-operated candles. There were scrabble pieces all over the floor, but he would deal with them in the morning. She was half asleep, eyes fluttering and trying to stay open. He grabbed their clothes from the floor and threw them into her lap with the blanket that was still wrapped around her.

Harry scooped her into his embrace, cradling her like he was carrying a bride. It made his heart skip a beat. Without discussing it, he carried her to his bedroom. He didn’t want to be apart from her. It felt like he was carrying half his heart in his arms. Her fall blanket had been long since swapped out with a Christmas one and it was draped haphazardly across her keeping her warm as the only thing she wore was the scrap of fabric she was passing off as underwear and that pretty pink bra. “Hey kitten,” he hummed, settling her on the mattress. She looked so perfect there. Beautiful.

“Hmm?” She tucked herself into his sheets almost instantly. Her face smushed into his pillow. He smiled, rubbed his hand on her hip and slipped into bed beside her. Her eyes were closed.

“Happy belated birthday.”

She snorted and tucked her face into his chest. “Thank you, Harry,” she whispered falling asleep nearly the moment she finished speaking.

*

Sleeping with her boss might be the dumbest thing she had ever done.

About ten of her romance novels consisted of this very plot line and she was victim of it per her own doing. Harry’s heavy arm was draped around her waist leaving her trapped beneath it and his soft bedding.

Fortunately, before she had time to spiral, Cece made her presence known. It gave her a reprieve from thinking about how stupid she was. It was something tangible to focus on that wasn’t the ache between her legs from having Harry—

She shook her head. Without another sound in the house, not even the quiet hum of the heating system, it heightened the sound of Cece’s small cry.

She pulled herself out from under Harry, frowning at how cold it was outside his blanket-like body. The first article of clothing she plucked from the floor—which happened to be one of Harry’s T-shirts—and slipped it over her body. Quietly, she went to Cece’s room. “Hello sweet girl,” her voice was soft, and Cece stopped crying instantly. “What are you doing?” She cooed. Cece continued to fuss without crying, so she scooped her up and kissed the side of her head. “Is it the rain and thunder?” She asked. “It’s okay. It’s just a little weather,” she assured her. “Are you cold?” she whispered. “I know,” she sighed. “Let’s go see if Daddy can keep us warm,” she murmured, kissing her temple.

Before she took one step to turn around, a hand circled the front of her stomach, pressing low, making her eyes flutter because Harry had touched and pressed so many parts of her body and he seemed to pull noises and warmth from her without even trying.

Harry’s lips found the curve of her shoulder where it met her neck, and peppered kisses along the made-up path he created from her shoulder to her ear. “You’re so good with her,” he murmured. “It’s so hot,” he whispered. She shivered even though she was about ten thousand degrees warmer than she was a moment before. “She’s cold?” he mumbled into her neck.

She nodded, unable to speak with his mouth on her pulse. He steered her out of the room by her hips, his fingers pressing against spots that he had pressed only hours before. Back toward the living room where he had made her come more times in one sitting than she had in weeks. Her cheeks felt warm as she followed his silent direction—like she was returning to the scene of a crime.

A really hot, sexy crime.

Harry left for his room again, but it was only moments before he was back at her side. He pulled her toward the couch making her stomach flip with the knowledge of what they did. He stretched his legs across the chaise part of the sofa and pulled her down, so her bum wedged between his leg and the sofa arm. Her legs stretched perpendicularly to his, across the couch.

Harry pulled the comforter he had dragged from his room across the three of them and snagged Cece’s crescent pillow from the floor, half under the couch from where it had landed while he was holding her legs open earlier. Harry kept that thought to a minimum as it was late, and she was sleepily holding his daughter. Gently, he tucked the pillow under her arms so most of Cece’s weight would be supported. “S’this dangerous?” He asked curiously.

“A few months ago, yeah... But I’m a pretty light sleeper. She’ll move before it’s an issue.”

Harry kissed the top of her head which had shifted down to the front of his shoulder. “You’re warm?”

“Very,” she promised.

“She’s warm?” He asked.

She wrapped her arms tighter around her and kissed her forehead, making Harry’s heart ache. “Mmm... are you warm?”

“Very,” he smiled. Even if he wasn’t, it was sweet she cared to ask. She was the one holding the baby. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you,” he murmured.

She tilted her head up and her beautiful wide eyes gazed at him and her lips curved upward so cutely he felt downright hot. No need for a blanket when he could see her smile like that. Harry cupped the side of her head. His thumb brushed along her cheek.

The quiet beating of his heart was under her ear and made her fall asleep.

*

Cece woke them up along with every light on in the house signaling the power was back. Harry’s shoulder felt deadened from her head against it for so many hours. He blinked against the light and glanced at the Scrabble tiles strung haphazardly on the floor. “Good morning, Miss Cecelia,” she cooed and kissed her forehead. “We’re nice and toasty, hmm?”

Harry smiled. His heart so completely full. As full as his arms felt.

“Let’s go change your bum, yeah?” She twisted slightly. “Hold her so I don’t injure you?” She smiled awkwardly. Harry really did a number on her hair while he made out with her last night, but she was still so beautiful it hurt. Her face still had a post-orgasmic glow about it and honestly it was kind of her to worry about Harry’s dick so close to her butt and not wanting to injure him, but she could probably feel it—a reminder that he was so turned on by her.

Harry kissed Cece’s cheek repeatedly. “Good morning, my sweet girl,” he cooed and nosed at her soft skin. She giggled happily and left an open-mouthed kiss on his face making him fall harder for the little baby.

Miss Honey hadn’t moved an inch while she watched the interaction, only inches from her face and she smiled sadly as she finally moved off his lap. Harry was so cold without her body around his it took every ounce of his effort to refrain from pulling her right back down.

She was still in his T-shirt and because her underwear was thin and hiding between her plump butt cheeks, it looked like she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Harry also had to refrain from groaning at the sight. He was glad the comforter was thrown over his lap because it hid the massive amount of indecency he was sporting at the sight of her. She plucked Cece from him and headed down the hall.

Harry picked up the Scrabble tiles trying to forget how good she tasted on the back of his couch so the blood in his body would drain to anywhere else but it’s current space. Eventually, she returned to the kitchen. Unfortunately, she was wearing pants and Harry thought it was unfair she didn’t even ask if he could get another look beforehand.

Cece was wrapped, as always, around her as she started her morning routine. Food, bottle, tea, coffee. Business as always. “Kitten, y’don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” she wasn’t facing him. But he could practically feel the heat of her cheeks, flushed with embarrassment. Her voice was shaky. Higher than normal.

“Y’okay?” He asked, his eyebrows pinching together as he watched her work without turning around. “Y’feel okay? Not sore or—”

“Harry,” she swallowed pausing her movements and Cece was suckling on her pacifier watching the pretty woman curiously.

“What, love?” He frowned. “Y’sure you’re alright? Y’sound—”

She put a hand on her face. “Harry, I feel...” she whispered and turned around.

Harry thought she was stunning when she perched over him and slid up and down his cock. But there was nothing like the sight of her, baby on her hip, freshly fucked and flushed, and sleepy looking as she made breakfast in his kitchen. “Y’feel what?” He asked, clearing his throat before he told her he loved her. How quickly he turned into a teenage boy ready to profess his love all because she felt so good around his cock.

“Good,” she smiled sadly. “Really, really good,” she promised. Harry smiled happily. Glad she was feeling okay. “But—”

Fuck. NO.

“I think we shouldn’t have—”

“Kitten, no,” he said quickly crossing the kitchen and putting one hand on her free hip. Cece was gazing at him while her little pacifier bounced up and down in her mouth. “Love, don’t say it—”

“Harry, you employ me.”

His natural instinct was to fire her right on the spot. Then promptly propose to her.

He shoved that instinct into the bottom of his stomach, but his chest ached knowing she was going to be twenty times stronger than him because she had to be. In her head, she was all alone. Even if that wasn’t true at all. He closed his eyes. “Sweetheart,” he said softly. His voice felt broken, and his heartbeat was thudding too hard.

“Harry, I... I really don’t regret that at all. But it was,” she took a deep breath. “It wasn’t the right move,” she looked at his chest. Her face warm with a fresh blush as she probably remembered how he made her come three times in a row. “It was perfect and I like being close with you. But there has to be a line,” she said. “I shouldn’t have crossed it, and I’m sorry. I don’t regret it. Given half the chance, I’d probably do it again,” she admitted.

“We could do it again if—”

“Harry,” she laughed softly, awkwardness coating the sound.

“Angel,” he started but she winced and turned her head away like he had slapped her.

“Please don’t call me that,” she whispered. “That’s the only thing Cody ever called me and—”

“Jesus, kitten, m’sorry. I was jus’—”

“It’s okay,” she looked up briefly, but her face turned another shade darker when their eyes connected. She looked so kissable. He wanted to. Wanted to kiss her and hold her and promise she could have whatever she wanted. Harry didn’t know if she was right. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to do things.

She was employed by him. A lot closer than any other of his employees. Granted he didn’t want to sleep with Niall or give him babies the way he wanted to do for her. “I love Cece,” she reminded him. “I don’t want to jeopardize this because of...” she swallowed. “Because of what we did. We can just forget about it. It was really, really wonderful. Please don’t question that,” her voice was soft. “You’re going to take your leave and I’m going to see my family for a week or two,” she explained. “It’ll be good to have that space and maybe... maybe reset what we’re feeling.”

“Reset,” he repeated.

She nodded. "Isn't there a part of you that wonders if what we did is only because I'm around so much?"

Harry wanted to scream. How could she say that? How could she possibly believe he only made her come three times because she was there? A small voice shouted from the back of his mind: Tell her why! Harry felt his stomach flip and his heart nearly stopped beating.

She didn’t know he loved her. She couldn’t know that his adoration for her had nothing to do with her proximity.

Her innate ability to know what he needed. Organizing papers without asking, folding his laundry, caring for his precious baby.

Just... being there. But not because of space, because it wasn't just because she was present, it was her presence.

No he shook his head. She was scared. She was pushing him away. Scared of all the things she told him the night before. It was her “baggage." The baggage she claimed Harry couldn’t carry because it was so heavy.

But what had he said that made her believe he couldn’t handle it?

Cece doesn’t need a sibling right now.

But she would never want to pressure him to do that—right? Not with what he had been through himself. But then she went and told him all about the way her ex-boyfriend treated her and how it was the only thing she wanted.

I’m just going to get a sperm donor. She said it so casually. There was an expiration date. If Cece turned five before something changed, then she was going to leave.

Harry wanted to give her a million babies. However many she wanted to have, he would give her. He would do it with her. He would quit his job and let her do whatever she wanted. Everything she wanted. A family that adored her and put her first because she deserved it. A family that would travel across the world for her just because they missed her, and she was their favorite thing in the world. A house filled with babies and her pretty maternal self, taking care of them all. Feeding them medicine and making them giggle when they discovered their toes.

He wanted their future children to love her more than him because she deserved that more than anything.

Hell, Cece probably already loved her more than him already.

“Are you going to fire me?” She whispered, pulling him from his thoughts. His hand was holding his shirt wrapped around her body at her hip. The fabric bunched a little tighter than it was before. He released it.

“No, of course not,” he rolled his eyes.

But he was going to make her fall in love with him.

The sooner the better.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-worlds @claimingharrystigertattoo

Honey: @jerseygirlinca @one-sweet-gubler

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[apocalypse-shuffle]

AGATHA HARKNESS (mcu | agatha all along)

—

“A Witch’s Bargain” (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader) and (mentioned Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader)

| Once you find out a witch as infamous and powerful as Agatha is seeking you out you decide to go to her before she can pull one over on you; an attempt was made.

| SFW, obeah, flirting, hints at immortality, reader has something going on with both Agatha and Rio, -caribbean!reader & witch!reader

| pic source: Agatha All Along (2024)

| Note, the Reader-Insert is speaking with an accent but I didn’t write the particulars of it down bcs that would’ve been a lot to parse through even for me. Also, happy less-than-forty days till Halloween!

| 2k+ words

“Oh my,” you drawl, leant back against a large tree near Westview’s local psychic shop and nearly lost in its shadow, “this is…underwhelming.”

A whopping three people — only two witches, one of which was currently powerless — pause in front of you on the sidewalk, your words ringing even truer at the way the boy amongst them jumps at your abrupt entrance.

Lips pursed, you look him up and down with little favor. If this was to be the makings of Agatha Harkness’s “great coven” the pickings truly must be slim.

The very witch you came to see turns to you, her hair falling into her face with the movement like she’s in some big brand shampoo commercial. Without another word, you watch on with an opposing stillness, your heart remaining steady.

Interesting.

For a woman you’d all thought dead Agatha looked well. Hair not clumpy, skin not worn or leathery. Even the way she held herself still bellied her comfort in mysticism, even dressed like a modern day woman as she was.

“Mm,” she hums shortly, turning in place with a few unhurried steps until she can cast narrowed eyes onto her apparent newest tag-along. Matching her stare head on you lean into the sun’s light a little more, your own thick curls brushing across a few low hanging branches where your hair is wrapped in cloth atop your head. “I don’t recall asking for an Obeah Woman,” she announces, tone bitingly light.

A scoff falls past your lips.

“And I didn’t expect the whispers for a coven would lead me to you, like this,” you twitch, letting your smile spread your plush lips thin, “broken and without your gifts.”

“I wouldn’t test me, New Girl,” she parries, and you hold your palms up in surrender.

Though your expression doesn’t sober.

The smile that rises to match your own in response to that is lopsided and sharp. Years worth of condensation she’d grown too used to falling back on without caution due to the magic coursing through her coming to the surface.

Agatha Harkness’s name in whispers had sent you into a fit at first — a witch of her caliber and age with your name on her mind never meant good — but looking at her now you could only tilt your head.

On the other hand, the boy with her seems eager to shake apart with laughter that grinds upon your nerves. Luckily, one look from the Salem veteran keeps him quiet.

Mostly.

In seconds she too is cackling, however — the boy’s muffled laughter acting as background noise — and you don’t bother stopping your sneer then.

“Oh, I see. You think you're hot shit,” she draws out, voice dropping an octave. “Don’t you operate a failing apothecary out of your apartment?”

Lips flattening, you step from the shadow, your face fixed without obvious malice to the best of your ability.

“It’s a side hustle,” you sniff. “And still better than being sentenced to 100 lashes and persecuted by the Danish; if I ever see the inside of a Christianshavn prison again I’ll frig up more than a few rum distilleries.”

“Of course. Now you just get persecuted by American Authority instead,” she says, the cut of her mouth sly.

With a flourish you wave her off. “Wretched as your worry is, it’s unneeded. Poison is no different than an elixir when you make it backwards.”

“Okay,” she simpers, shrugging herself, voice light and eyes never straying from your form as you glide closer over the concrete.

Powerless or not, something beneficial could surely come of making the occasional acquaintance of such a renowned woman.

Movement in your peripherals catches your attention though, and you stop moving to turn your head to find who you can only assume is the cause of your blight today.

Your sneer situates itself right back over your lips.

“Lilia,” you announce, the woman stops in her tracks and cuts you a brazen look out of the corner of her eyes. You take caution to only let your molars grind together for a second, releasing the tension in increments as your gaze narrows on her and you stand taller. “I should cut you down where you stand.”

The psychic huffs, shawl sliding a bit down the slope of her shoulder.

Slowly pulling the covering back into place she tuts at you, “Or…you could not. I mean, let’s face it, you would’ve been drawn here regardless of if I gave Agatha your name.”

“Unlikely,” you snap, words ground out like you’d rather spit on her than keep to something so civil as using mere words to express yourself.

And you would if you weren’t in such mixed company. Lilia was only meek when she was playing some angle after all.

You didn’t like anyone else making your moves for you, forcing you to speed up your timeline. Your own plans be damned.

“Witches, witches!” Agatha cuts in, holding her hands out to keep you and the psychic apart despite the way she’s only looking your way. “Let’s not tear each other apart just yet, hm?”

She eyes you from head to toe, taking her time to pan down as she takes in your flowing clothing and lightly clacking beads, before giving you a wicked look. “We wouldn’t want to mar anything too pristine before things really get interesting, now would we?”

Knocking your gaze to Lilia for a second you clock how she initially meets your glower, but keep your gaze steady regardless, just up until she finally twitches in discomfort. Only then do you ease up, tossing a grimace of a smile her way, before watching Agatha closely once more as the psychic wanders off somewhere out of sight with a few muttered curses you pay no mind to.

Meanwhile, Agatha’s expression has changed, having lost its begrudging appraisal and turned furrowed.

You raise your brows, “Harkness?”

She squints, obscuring fine cut hazel.

“I know you, don’t I?”

“Ah,” you grin without teeth, shoulders shaking, “so you can’t tell your porridge from your oats either I see.”

She rolls her eyes.

“The ‘wise sage’ sage act is very annoying, I have to tell you. It’s really ruining an otherwise beautiful package and I think you should work on that.”

“Should I?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Oh, alright,” you examine your bare nails, twisting your wrist this way and that to get a ‘better’ view of your cuticles, “you’ll have to put the request in with my secretary first, though, I fear.”

Agatha’s pet’s head pops up from over her shoulder, his face screwed up, “You have a secretary? …No offense.”

Sighing, you drop your hand back to your side and make a point of rolling your eyes hard enough to nearly make yourself dizzy.

“No. I don’t,” you tell him finally, though you don’t look away from the actual witch in front of you even as you do.

Immediately after you raise your brow at Agatha, however, “As for you, you know full well that I’m better than any sage, and that passing me up would be a waste when you need a potion maker. Regardless, no we haven’t met, but your backside is just as unpleasant as people describe.”

“Hm,” she hums in agreement, moving to toss her round brunette curls around to her back with a wink in your direction, “unpleasantly beautiful, you might say.”

“Worthless more like it,” you correct.

Agatha stops putting on her little show so quickly you might as well have just lashed her across the face.

Briefly, her eye spasms, “Watch it.”

“I might,” you say, “so long as you prove me wrong. Now, if we could get back on track.”

“Huh,” she scoffs, glaring at you now. “Fine. How bout’ this, unless you can make an elixir to make me invincible from every witch closing in on me, then scram. I’m dealing with enough ameatures as is.”

Head thrown back for a second, you laugh, letting your fervor echo throughout Lilia’s forever vacant parking lot.

“Oh, make no mistake, Harkness, I can do that...” you say eventually, voice easy in a way that gives the other woman pause. You jerk a brow up, briefly mirroring the way her interest seems to physically jump up to stare at you, “…for a price.”

Gaze finally brightening she moves to knock her male companion on the shoulder, gesturing your way afterwards before plastering a much “nicer” smile on her face.

“Teen’s got the money. Give the woman whatever she wants, come on.”

“Oh no, I don’t want money,” you cut in with a flick of your hand at the grabble she’s making for the boy’s wallet.

Agatha pauses in the middle of silently arguing with Teen, glancing your way from her slightly bent position.

“—You don’t?”

“I might not call myself a witch, but that in no way means I’m confused as to what you witch them does do.” You get closer to her, and how she straightens to meet your advance makes you preen. “I want a favor. A binding one.”

“As if,” the boy cuts in with, “A witch of her caliber doesn’t do binding spells, they’ll only hinder her.”

Oh my—

“You well fucking rude,” you say distastefully, giving him a harsh look. Irritatingly, his forward ass only lays his hand over his heart with a gasp.

For her part all Agatha does is laugh, knocking you lightly on the shoulder as if you’ve told a particularly funny joke, and taking you right out of your stare down. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Dear. Cause you sure are delusional.”

She snorts.

You suck your teeth.

This back and forth routine was getting far more tiresome than you’d anticipated.

“The only lucky one here is you,” you deadpan.

She opens her mouth to respond, that same dismissal in the curve of her mouth, but then pauses. Expression twitching, she leans even closer to you to inhale.

Frowning, you pull your upper half away from her.

“What—?”

“—I should’ve known,” Agatha exclaims lowly, pointing her finger at you. “You reek of her psycho, that's why you seemed so familiar. What have you been dabbling in, I wonder, to smell so thoroughly of Rio? Joining her plot against me?”

You shake your head, looking away from her. You’d only hung around Vidal for the same reasons you were hanging around Agatha: to gain connections and, better still, favors you could cash in on if you ever found yourself in a bind due to your own ventures.

You hadn’t been lying earlier when you’d said you’d start making drastic moves if you saw the inside of a cell again, you didn’t care where it was. You’d burn it all down until they had to put you down before you’d waste away imprisoned ever again.

“Absolutely not. Whatever melee that went down between you two is yours alone. All I’m worrying about is my deal.”

To the displeasure of your heightening pulse, however, Agatha doesn’t just look passingly interested or even admiring any longer. She looks like she’s been given a puzzle, and like she likes it.

“Too late,” she chirps, fluttering her lashes, “Rio is far too picky about the company she keeps for your involvement to be left unexplored.”

Hand coming up, she runs her nails along your jaw. You stave off a flinch from the ticklish sensation her touch elicits. “You’ve played with too hot a fire, Darling, situating yourself in the middle of our fight,” Agatha finishes, clicking her tongue, before walking her digits back up the umber expanse of your skin to press the pads of them into the hinge of your jaw.

You swallow roughly, hope she can’t hear it.

Agatha smiles, pressing in until she can force you to meet her eyes again. They’re roving, almost manic when paired with her smile.

“Yes,” she breathes, eyes alight. “Maybe I do need an Obeah Woman after all. We’ll be going to the Witch’s Road, won’t you come with?”

No. It’s on the tip of your tongue. The feel of Rio’s blackened energy still a hot, sizzling brand across your lips.

One deal had been made already, yes, but were you sure about pursuing this one as well with the inevitability of getting caught in the middle of a centuries old rivalry so probable?

Unfortunately, your, “Fine,” slips past your lips before you can stop yourself, and rather than deal with the indignity of walking your agreement back you stay quiet.

Watching for her move. Reasoning with yourself that there were still benefits here despite this new hiccup, if only you played your cards right.

She doesn’t make you wait long.

A shiver rises over you as her presence does the same, her steps carrying her till there’s hardly a whisper between your bodies. Even without her magic, being this close to Agatha Harkness allowed her to snake herself across your soul same as Rio Vidal had when you’d also unintentionally peaked her curiosity a while back.

“Wonderful,” she coos, the pad of her thumb gliding up your cheekbone as her hazel bores deep into your brown, “let’s see about that deal then.”

Dammit to hell; this had better be worth whatever Agatha and Rio’s combined interest would do to you.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Fun fact, actually, I wrote this when I’d only watched episode two up until Agatha and Teen left Lilia’s place, and so didn’t know that Jen (gorgeous as she is) would be who they went to for poisons (or that that was in any way a requirement in the first place) so that was a fun little coincidence. Otherwise, the setting of this oneshot I just pulled out of my ass fr.

Also, character motivations are a bit funky but I can’t pinpoint the exact reason and really want to post this tonight so we’ll all have to deal.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Caribbean word of the day (i.e.,the glossary): “Frig” - an alternative way to say ‘fuck’. so ‘frig up’ = ‘fuck up’.

*remember, though, that dialects are regional so the word in this glossary isn’t used by every caribbean*

[natashaslesbian]

Another Mother | Part 3

Scarlett helps you out when you start to get sick, she hopes you’re getting closer until your dad tells you he’s needed back at work. All you truly want is your mother, not Scarlett

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings/Content: Sickness, Throwing up, Medication, One hint of non sexual nudity, One swear word

—————————————————————————

You followed slowly behind your dad into the living room, finding Scarlett already settled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Hey you two” Scarlett smiled, a little too friendly for your liking, despite your earlier bonding time. “Did you apologise?” The blonde asked Colin “yeah” your dad nodded. “Good, now let’s watch a film, what’s your pick y/n?” Scarlett said as she adjusted her position on the couch, hoping you would join her. She was slightly disappointed when you took a seat on the spare armchair beside the expensive looking couch, wiping at your suddenly stuffy nose “terminator 2” you said as you slumped down. “Oh one of my favs, nice pick” Scarlett said as Colin came and sat beside her. Your dad sighed as he got comfortable “guess I gotta get used to being outnumbered again” Colin smiled as he wrapped his arm around the blondes shoulders “looks like you girls are already ganging up on me” he joked. “We make a good team y/n” Scarlett smiled at you “we’re not a team” you coldly replied “just two people living under the same roof who happen to get on occasionally” you said with a croaky voice. You didn’t see it, but Scarlett smiled at your words. Even if it was only occasionally, she was happy to be getting on with you, it was a start.

Your eyes grew tired towards the end of the film, a small headache forming behind your eyes. The exhaustion due to your restless night soon lulled you into a comfortable doze. “I think someone’s ready for bed” Scarlett whispered when she saw your head slowly bobbing to the side. “Y/n, wakey wakey!” Your dad called, using that annoying voice which he thought was hilarious. Your brows furrowed as you shuffled slightly “Colin!” Scarlett groaned. “Sorry kiddo” he laughed “you tired? Why don’t you go take a nap before dinner?” He said. You sighed loudly as you sat up, rubbing at your sore eyes “no I’m good” you said. “You sure?” Colin asked worriedly, to which you nodded in response. “You do look a little pale y/n” Scarlett piped up. “God I’m fine! What do you care anyway?” You snapped as you stood from the chair, leaving heavy footsteps in the path of your exit. “Hey! What did I tell you about the attitude!” Your dad called after you. “Leave it honey, she doesn’t seem well” the blonde said, running her hand along Colin’s arm in what she hoped was a soothing manor. “She’s fine” he huffed.

You made it halfway up the stairs before a rough cough escaped your lungs, as if being home sick wasn’t enough, now you were getting actually sick. You finally made it to your bedroom, where you flopped down dramatically onto your bed. Being too tired to change, you rolled over into your stomach letting your heavy head hit the pillow. You slept through dinner, Colin left you to sleep when he came to check on you. You slept so deeply, it was morning the next time you opened your eyes. You whined as the morning sun hit your gaze, making your pounding headache ten times worse. You were slightly dazed, but still knew it was Monday, meaning you needed to get ready for school. You peeled back your duvet and began shivering despite the sweat running down your head. You somehow made it to the door quickly, ignoring the ache of your muscles in each step. When making your way to the bathroom, the haze behind your eyes caught up with you, sending you toppling down to your knees. The crash against the wall had your dad awake in seconds “y/n?” He said as he swung open his bedroom door.

You saw a hint of worry come over your dad as he ran towards you “are you alright kid?” He said as he began to help you up “god you’re boiling” he exclaimed, deciding it would be better to keep you sitting. An inquisitive blonde appeared in the doorway, also awoken by the noise “is everything alright?” She said. “You were right, I think she’s sick” Colin frowned as he held you in his arms. “M fine” you whined “gotta school go” you slurred. “No sweetie I don’t think you’re going to school today” your dad said “I…um…I’ll call them okay, and we’ll…we’ll get you feeling better in no time” he stuttered, slightly unsure of what to do “let’s get you back to bed” he said. “I think she needs a shower first” Scarlett said, still standing in the doorway. “What?” Colin said, looking up at her. The older woman came to rest the back of her hand on your forehead, you shuffled away when she came into contact with you, pulling a face of disgust. “She’s too warm, she needs a cold shower” the woman said. Colin’s face fell into shock “right…well uh” he mumbled. “I’ll do it” Scarlett said “if that’s okay with you” she asked as she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, thrilled when you didn’t shrug her off. Your dad smiled at the offer from his fiancé “you go call her school” she smiled back “I don’t know the number” Colin said in defeat. “I’ll find it later” Scarlett said as she rolled her eyes.

You felt a pair of arms scooping you underneath your arms, gently lifting you away from the floor “ok sweetie, come on let’s get you in the shower” Scarlett said as she took on all of your weight. Being too dizzy to notice, you allowed yourself to be helped into the bathroom and deposited into the toilet lid. The running water caught your attention and you furiously rubbed at your eyes trying to regain your vision. “Hey try not to do that okay, you’ll make them sore” Scarlett said as she reached for your hands. “Leave me lone” you said as you saw a flash of blonde hair “don wan you” you grumbled. Scarlett was getting used to your standoffish attitude, so she didn’t take your words to heart. “I know you don’t y/n but you need a shower and I don’t think you can do it yourself right now” she said as she checked the temperature of the water. Satisfied that it was cool enough, Scarlett began peeling away the shirt stuck to your skin “we’ll keep your underwear on okay but I need to take your shorts off too” she said soothingly. Despite your best ideas, you allowed the blonde to help you stand and step out of your shorts as they pooled at your ankles. “‘S cold” you groaned as you stepped underneath the water. “I know sweetheart but we gotta cool you down” Scarlett said as she helped you to sit in the tub.

You whined as more of your skin came into contact with the cold water, Scarlett gently shushed you as she helped you to settle against the tiles. You didn’t put up much of a fight once your body was supported by the tiles and Scarlett took the opportunity to search for your schools phone number. Once she found it, the actress poked her head out of the bathroom door and called for her fiancé. “I got the schools number” she said as Colin climbed the last few steps. “Thank you baby, is she okay?” he asked as he typed the number into his own phone. “She’s only just got in but it should cool her down a bit. I’m guessing Marie used to take care of this kinda stuff?” Scarlett questioned. Colin smiled at the mention of his late wife “yeah she did” he said, reliving all the times you would be napping with your mother when you had a cold. “Why don’t you go make her some breakfast, she needs to eat before we give her some medicine” Scarlett said as she held Colin’s hand lovingly “okay yeah” your dad sighed as he ran back down the staircase, still in his panicked state at your sudden sickness.

Scarlett returned to the side of the bath and leant over to gauge your temperature, she was delighted when you felt much cooler than before. “Okay let’s get you out sweetie” she said as she reached for a fluffy towel. “No tired” you mumbled through the droplets of the water “thought you said it was too cold?” Scarlett smirked as she helped you to stand up again. “Don wan your help if you jus gon make fun of me” you argued, your anger a stark juxtaposition to the grip you had on her arms. “Sorry baby” Scarlett said, the nickname sliding off her tongue so naturally. You grimaced in annoyance at her affection but allowed her to help you back to your bedroom nonetheless. “Sit tight okay, I’ll grab you some fresh clothes” the blonde said as she sat you on your bed “I feel sick” you groaned as you wrapped your arms around your bubbling stomach. Scarlett took notice of your movements and hurried across the room to place your bin underneath your chin. On cue, the small contents of your stomach came out, it was mostly acid considering you hadn’t eaten in almost 15 hours. “Alright sweetie, it’s okay, let it all out” Scarlett cooed as she ran her hands along your back. You pulled back when you were done, avoiding the bin as you moved your head forwards to rest on the blondes frame. She placed the metal can back on the floor and gently soothed the skin of your arms. “I…I need to get dressed” you stuttered as you slowly pushed Scarlett away, feeling guilty for relying on her so heavily. “Do you want some help” Scarlett asked. “No, I can do it” you said as you pushed yourself to your feet and turned your back to the older woman, ending the conversation.

Scarlett waited just outside your door while you pulled your clothes back onto your cooler body. Colin came rising back up the stairs with a tray of fever friendly food. “Hey, she’s just getting dressed” the blonde said as she leaned over the tray to give her fiancé a kiss. “Okay hunny, thanks for looking after her” Colin said “I made her soup and a few slices of toast” he sighed as he held out the tray, wishing you could get better quickly, he hated to see you like this. “That should settle her stomach a bit, she threw up” Scarlett frowned, also hating to see you like this. “Oh god okay, I’ll see if I can get the rest of the week off work, I’m due back tomorrow” Colin said. He placed the tray on the hallway table and pulled out his phone to call his boss when a small whimper came from your bedroom. “Scarlett?” You called out “yeah sweetheart” the blonde replied leaning gently against the door. “I think I need some help getting dressed” you muttered “okay I’m coming in” Scarlett said as she picked up the tray of food for you “I got her” she nodded to your father. Scarlett couldn’t help the pitying whine that escaped her when she came back into your room. You were half sitting on the bed and half sitting on the floor, you’d managed to dress your lower half but when trying to put a loose sports bra over your head, you failed tremendously. The older woman kept her eyes above your shoulders as she helped to pull the bra over your chest, when you were covered she grabbed the large shirt she had laid out and helped you to slip into it. “Thank you” you whispered, “don’t mention it sweetie.

You climbed back into bed as Scarlett carried over the food your dad had prepared “‘M not hungry” you whined as she set it down on your lap. “You need to eat y/n, you’ll feel better I promise. And after your done we’ll get some medicine in you then you can sleep okay” Scarlett said, unconsciously leaning forward to brush away a loose strand of your hair. You continued to moan in disagreement but soon you had finished the whole meal, you felt a little bitter though you were definitely not going to tell Scarlett she was right. Your dad stopped by as you were finishing up, arms full of medication as he wasn’t sure which ones you needed. You and Scarlett both chuckled as his frantic state “give it here” she blonde rolled her eyes and reached for the basket. “How are you feeling pumpkin?” Colin asked as he rested a hand on your forehead “sleepy” you whispered “we’ll get you tucked in soon I promise” he cooed. Scarlett found what medicine you needed and helped you to swallow it, despite your unwillingness. She stood back as her fiancé helped to soothe you to sleep “get some sleep” Colin said as he switched off your overhead light, leaving you to rest. “I can’t get the week off” your dad sighed as he closed you bedroom door “they’re behind on scripts for the sketches I gotta go in” he sighed. “She’ll understand baby” Scarlett said as held Colin’s hand tightly “and I’ll be here to look after her” she said. “I know it’s just, her mom used to watch her when she was sick, or on school holidays, practically all the time cause I was at work. I thought I would finally have a chance to be there for her” Colin frowned. “She knows that you love her CJ, and she knows that you’re always gonna be there for her, wherever you are” the blonde said as she brushed his cheeks in her hands. “Come on, I think we have time for our own breakfast while she sleeps” Scarlett smiled as she lead her fiancé back down to the living room.

The pair kept a close eye on you for the rest of the day, although you slept for most of it. Despite your sickness, Scarlett and Colin used this time to spend together, basking in each other’s comfort. You were awake now and enjoying a sit com in the silence of your room. The medicine was beginning to ware off and you felt the same bubbling in your stomach return from earlier. Colin shot up from his desk when he heard the retching coming from upstairs, he jumped into action as he ran up to you followed by Scarlett. The door swung open to reveal you with your head over the bin once again “oh pumpkin” your dad cooed. “Daddy” you whined as she came to your side. The blonde also appeared behind you, pulling your hair into a loose ponytail to avoid it getting in the way. Colin nodded in thanks to his partner as he gently stroked your back “it’s alright kiddo” he soothed. When you were done, you leaned back against your dad in defeat. He didn’t waste a second as he scooped you up into his arm, bringing you back to your bed. You saw the look in his eyes, the one that meant he had something to tell you “you have to go to work tomorrow don’t you?” You quietly asked. “Yeah baby, I’m so sorry there’s nothing I can do” Colin said as he reached around your shoulders to hold you against himself. “Scarlett will be here though, she can look after you okay?” He said. You drew your gaze to the blonde standing at the foot of your bed. You wished your dad could be with you, the comfort of your mother was absent and now so would your father’s, Scarlett was the last person you wanted around right now. “Okay” you sighed in defeat. You supposed it could’ve been worse, and Scarlett had helped you out today. Whether or not you wanted to admit it.

You soon fell back asleep in your fathers arms, feeling comforted by his presence. You didn’t join him and Scarlett for dinner, your stomach not being able to hold anything. Nightfall soon came and you resorted to having a movie marathon having slept so much already. You were feeling worse than ever as you couldn’t take any of the medication on an empty stomach, but you just couldn’t keep anything down, your tummy was constantly aching. It was around three am when you couldn’t hold back from stumbling over to the bin again. You had no concept of time and the world was going around in a blur. “Y/n?” You heard as you gently turned your head to the footsteps closing in. “Oh pumpkin” Colin sighed as he came to your side. “Dad” you whined as you leaned into him “what time is it?” You asked. “About 3” your father said. You glanced towards your window, seeing no light leaking through “am?” You said feeling guilty for waking him. “Go back to sleep daddy, you have work today” you said as you toyed with his necklace. “It’s okay baby don’t worry about me” Colin said as he too your face into his hands. “You’re gonna be tired” you frowned, your vision blurring slightly. “No, no sweetie it’s okay” your dad said as he helped you to stand.

“Come on let’s get you back to bed” Colin said as he supported your weight on the short walk back to your mattress. “I wanna go home” you said as water crept up behind your eyes. “You are home kiddo” your dad sighed as he began to tuck you back into bed. “I’ll never be home again, not without mom” you cried, thinking about your moms soft hands gently flowing through your long hair. “Pumpkin, you gotta let her go” Colin whispered. “What like you did” you snapped, sitting up with a sudden burst of energy. “You just let her go, moved on and forgot about her. You sold her house, drove in some new bimbo to replace her and just let her go!” You shouted, tears now streaming down your face. “Y/n” your dad sighed “it’s not heathy to keep holding on, she would want you to-“ he continued before you cut him off “don’t you dare say she’d want me to move on” you sobbed. Colin sat back in defeat as you flipped back down into bed, turning your back to him and pulling your stuffed bear close to your face. “Y/n” he whispered “just go dad. You’ve got work in a few hours. I’m not gonna be the reason you get fired for falling asleep at your desk” you muttered under your breath, shaking due to your small outburst and probably your once again rising temperature. “Scarlett’s here if you need anything” Colin said coldly as he headed off back to bed for a few extra hours. “Like fuck” you cursed.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Series Masterlist here<3

- Astara Bell

—————————————————————————

[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @kkreader78o / @hatergirl-69 / @asv-xx

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Stoking the Flames

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (one sided)

Length: 23.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, discussions of abusive relationships, implied past sexual abuse, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, mentions of anal, breeding kink

Notes: Enjoy the calm while it lasts, because part 5 is going to be a whammy of juicy whiplashing content. Previous Modern! AU Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Your eyes shined brightly, something both almost a wonder and yet in something a bit emotional as you looked it over. Hand running gently down along the soft material as your eyes tracked it all the way down to the ground. The designs on it were a faint grey along the white colour, but they were there and intertwined along the arms and front of the skirt to create a gentle abstract look. There was a bit of lace along the arms as well but not so see through that you’d be able to notice much skin, more to give it a sheer look.

You hadn’t laid eyes on it in months, you hadn’t even expected to see it again. After the call that Ramsay had cancelled the dinner on you even despite that being the rescheduled one, you had give up on needing it. A fancy restaurant in Torrhen’s Square, and Ramsay had sent you out to a specific store to acquire a specific dress he wanted you to wear to the date. You had come close to buying it, a short, thin strapped red dress that was tight and showed off far more cleavage then you’d ever willingly choose alone. Waiting for the attendant to come back with your size, Jon had muttered to you that he’d be right back.

He had taken you there, not wanting you to take public transportation that far into the city alone. But you had waited alone for the dress, your mind solely on another. The one you in the present were gazing over. You had spotted it the moment you walked in, on a rack surrounded by other assorted things which appeared mostly vintage, but you were not told to get it, so you ignored it no matter how much it caught your eye. Before the attendant even came back, Jon had brought it over to you and nearly shoved you into the dressing room to try it on without listening to you protest.

He was right, you didn’t know how he knew but it had been beautiful. It had gone unspoken between you both, that Jon was very clearly trying to hold himself back from just telling you he’d buy it for you, standing begrudgingly quiet at the checkout counter. Then Ramsay cancelled, twice. And you knew such a dress wasn’t going to be needed for anything else, you didn’t do fancy events, it was supposed to be special. You had put it in the bottom of a box to donate, not wanting to look at it again and you thought no more of it when you dropped said box off one afternoon.

Yet now, you stood in Jons room, your eyes running all over the beautiful dress you thought you’d never be able to wear, all because Jon saw it in the donate pile, and rescued it. So you could wear it one day in the future like he thought you deserved.

Turning to look back at him, Jon was leaning back against his desk. Fiddling with his phone, he was clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t watching you adamantly. But his peeking grey eyes were wide as they caught yours, the expression trying to hide away that he was somewhat anxious about what you were to say about him keeping it for you. But your voice softened those worries in an instant, gentle as it was he could still hear from across the room. “You kept it this whole time just for me?”

Jon’s response however, just made your expression fall flat as his grew into a grin. “I don’t think it’d suit me.” Your head tilted before turning to look back at it, the beginning sound of Jon approaching before you felt two hands sit along your waist. Putting his chest against your back, he let his hands run smoothly up and down to your hip and back. Your hand busy running along the skirt of the dress which you could reach as he leaned down to mutter into your ear. “It looked beautiful on you, I didn’t want that to be for nothing.” Pausing before his voice ran a little rougher, while attempting to sound as if he wasn’t feeling so. “Even if it meant only showing you I kept it for you, because I thought maybe Ramsay would’ve done something nice for you once.”

Biting down on your tongue, something in you felt both distant at the name, but warm through your veins at the insinuation. Feeling Jons lips suddenly press down against your neck, you somewhat leaned back into his touch, only for Jon to interrupt himself, muttering muffled against you that he needed more room not less. Finally bringing a smile back out onto your lips with a small shake of your head. “I wasn’t trying to-”

His chuckle vibrated against your back, sinking into your skin and reaching your heart making it feel light at the sound. Interrupting you, Jon smartly switched back to the topic at the forefront of his mind. “You don’t have to wear it. I just wanted you to know you could, if you want.”

A hand left the dress, reaching to grasp gently at one of his hands only for Jon to grasp it in his larger one. Wrapping it around your front to keep you pressed against him, the side of his head rested gentle against yours as he looked down at your thought filled expression. “You don’t think it would be too much?”

Again he chuckled, pulling you closer it possible as he dropped his head back to kiss just under your ear to rasp into it. “It’s a wedding, darling. If there’s one place you’re allowed to wear a gown like this.”

Naturally, you had been hesitant to agree to go in the first place. You didn’t truly know the bride nor groom, but it was Sam’s brother getting married. Dickon apparently had told his brother to give him the names of people from the North he wanted to invite, and whatever partner’s they may wish to bring. Sam naturally knew out of anyone only two people would go with him all the way back to Horn Hill for such an event. Gilly agreed right away, excited to see where Sam grew up, and Jon didn’t hesitate to go.

Knowing Sam and his father had a not so good past as it was put gently to you. Jon hadn’t thought twice to mention to Sam that you’d be his plus one, before he had even brought it up to you at all. It made sense in his head, bringing you with him until he told you, and that nervous look came about your face suddenly.

Plans had all been made, but one thing remained. You had needed something to wear, and you had nothing appropriate for a wedding. That was when Jon opened the side of his closet that you rarely ever saw, normally where his Nights Watch attire was kept and you saw a familiar, long, white gown draped against the floor even from where it hung.

Starting to mutter that you didn’t have to wear it, you took the reigns and was the one to cut Jon off first that time. “I want too.” Trying to catch your eye from behind you, you choose to quickly let slip and turn in Jons arms. Not moving anywhere from him, but your hands now braced on his own arms close to where he had swapped to holding by your waist. “At least if I wear it for this, I’ll have a chance to wear it beside the one person who actually wanted me to get it.”

His brows narrowed. Your own face fell just slightly, as Jon picked up on you realizing the sudden switch in the emotions between you. You hadn’t meant it to come out that way, but it did and Jon had you way too close between him and his closet to escape his questions now. “What does that mean?” Shaking your head, you opened your mouth to a lie that Jon cut off before it even left your lips. “Why wouldn’t he have wanted you to get the dress you liked?” Your silence unfortunately, spoke that answer for you as Jon was smart enough to put it together. “You told me the dress you were looking at was just a style Ramsay had mentioned before.” Your continued silence only made it worse as you looked to the side away from him, Jon leaning down to try and catch your gaze more to his increasingly frustrated one as he more sternly muttered your name.

Fingers flexing meekly against where you held at his arms, your voice attempted to play it off as it meaning nothing, despite knowing the real answer was going to make him mad. “Ramsay sent me to that store on purpose.” Jon only waited for you to say the real answer you weren’t yet saying. “I was supposed to get the red dress specifically. For the date.” The manner which you awkwardly muttered the rest of it weighed a thousand pounds between you both. “So I could finally wear something that might make him want to actually...go to bed with me.”

You were both well aware that you had phrased it much more diplomatically then what Ramsay would’ve really said and you could see that anger flaring up in Jons eyes. Tone dropped there was an edge behind it, yet his hands held you no tighter. “Make him want to-” Cutting himself off, Jons head dropped for a moment as his eyes closed. Inhaling through his nose, you knew he was trying to keep it down for your sake here and now when he looked back up at you. One hand drifting from your waist to cup your cheek. “You shouldn’t be dressing a certain way so your own boyfriend will want to fuck you.”

Swallowing roughly, it seemed Jon had no issue jumping right to the more direct path of what you were speaking around. It wasn’t meant as a defence for him, and Jon knew that, but you so easily reverted back to someone a bit less confident in what you both had, defaulting to saying something just to appease Jon. “It wasn’t like that, it was only something he said once or twice. We did things anyways, he didn’t mean it.”

Head jolting back a little, Jon took the moment to look you over more seriously. Turning you by his hold at your cheek to meet his eyes, much wider but a more sad softness within them then you would’ve otherwise expected. His thumb ran along the skin of your cheek he could find each passing moment. “That has nothing to do with why he said it. He fucked you because you let him, you didn’t have to do anything to get him to do that. He told you to dress like that, to buy that dress in particular, because he wanted to prove to you and himself, that you’d always do whatever he said.”

“I only-”

Swapping to cup both of your cheeks, Jon turned your head up at an angle you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “Darling, you don’t have to defend him, you know that.” Nodding ever so slightly in his hold, Jon sighed at the motion. Pressing his lips to your forehead before resting his against yours, your arms now gently grasping at his waist, the only sound in the air between you was his gentle rasp. “You don’t have to wear the dress, we can go out right now and spend however long it takes to find you one you like-”

Shaking your head as much as you could in his touch, your eyes were a bit brighter then before. “No, I want to wear it. You kept it for me.” Sighing deeply again, Jon pulled back to seek your eyes out only to find genuinity within them. That time, you leaned up yourself.

Meeting you in the middle, whenever it was a kiss you initiated, it never was anything more then something sweet and chaste. Wrapping an arm around your lower back, Jon pulled you close so one of your hands was forced high up against his torso. His other hand tilting your head at the perfect angle for him, despite you being the one to start. You went in with something innocent but Jon deepened the kiss within mere seconds.

His lips soft against yours, he always took the lead. His kiss guided you no matter who started it, pulling you along to let him enjoy you the way he needed. Which could be endless. It was still new to you, even after three months together, it was still a matter of getting used too. The way which Jon truly, deeply loved to kiss you. Some nights, Jon would hover over you in bed with the intention of sinking deep inside of you, but could get so preoccupied in your kiss that an hour could pass and he made no further move to escalate things.

Ramsay and Karl Tanner had only ever kissed you enough to keep up the appearance that they were trying. Kiss you to greet you once or twice in a day, but sometimes those weren’t even to your lips, a press to your cheek felt sweet at the time when you thought it was normal for men not to enjoy kissing the way you wanted to try more of. But now, with Jon? It was obvious how much they were both trying to trick you into thinking it was normal to never give you attention, that it was how relationships worked in the real world and you were just too sheltered as a child to have learned that lesson.

Yet, each breath of air as you stood there, was stolen by Jon with such passion. He controlled your every act here, and yet it was not a trick of any sorts. He could kiss you until you were faint, and still trail his lips along your neck afterwards without ever stopping. Even now, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck, Jons hand on your cheek moved to your jaw. Better keeping you in place, kissing you again and again with no care to stop. The hand around your front slid to your hip, running smoothly over your pants with his palm before it somewhat begun to tease elsewhere.

Never yet committing, but you felt his fingertips toy with the idea of digging into your ass without committing. He had never taken you there, not truly. The first night you both properly begun to make up though, he had introduced you to the idea. That it wasn’t just for him, that he promised that if you were alright with it, he could make you feel good with that as well.

Even now as he kissed you without moving indecently, you felt a flush crawl through your body at the thought. Jon had taken you in every other way that night. Tasting between your legs until he pulled tears from your eyes at how much he purposely left you overstimulated. How finally, finally, he let you get on your knees. The feeling of his hand at your jaw now reminding you of the controlling way he gripped your hair, how he ran his fingers through the soft stands even though he had you pressed right up against the coarse hair around his cock as he spilled down your throat. Then, you were alright enough to take him properly after. You weren’t even sure how much you came at that point, your mind a bit of a fog as Jon dictated the whole night. But then he wasn’t yet done.

Waiting until you could stand on two feet, Jon guided you to his dresser, the mirror sitting against it showing what a mess you were. Covered in marks and bruises from his lips and teeth, bruises along your hips where he grabbed you and the lewd, undeniable sight of traces of his seed left between your legs. Guiding you to relax against the wooden surface, Jon gently lulled you into it.

The feeling strange and hurt a bit at first, but the more Jon rasped in your ear and the more his other hand ran across your clit to help, did it get easier. One, then two, by the time Jon managed to get you to cum one last time for him, he had just managed to fit three thick fingers deep into your ass before he was done. Carrying you back to bed, you had fallen asleep not long after to the gentle murmurings in your ear that you did so well for him.

But now, Jon didn’t take it that far, no matter how much your mind felt a bit guilty for drifting towards it. Once, twice, three times Jon had gone back to kiss you again when he was the one who pulled back first. Gently nudging your nose as you playfully did it right back, a small smile formed on his face. His hand returning back to your waist much more obviously. “It’ll be our first time at an event as a proper couple.”

The fluster showed through your small smile, only making Jons grow brighter against his handsome features. “We’ll only be gone a few days?”

Jon nodded, returning to let the hand at your haw begun to run through your hair again and again almost mindlessly. “We’ll get there in the afternoon, the wedding is that evening. I thought we could stay the next day, have a chance to sleep in, walk around the town, and take our time going home the next day.”

Your eyes narrowing playfully, Jon picked up on your tease right away. “This going to be your first wedding under the Seven, Snow?”

Jon only leaned in to press a kiss to your lips again with a smirk. “If I don’t burst into flames walking to a sept, it will be.” Jon had no care when he interrupted your laugh with a more firm kiss of his own. Unbeknownst to you, Jon certainly was having other thoughts about being with you at a wedding, and how much he was fighting with himself to keep those thoughts down.

Not that you’d know, but you helped a good degree in that matter at the least. The joke far too easy on your tongue as your brow raised playfully. “Suppose every tradition sounds strange to someone who prays to a tree.”

Jon didn’t hesitate to roll his eyes, grabbed you by the waist and all but hauling you in his arms across the room. Only to catch the attention of Ghost, who didn’t hesitate to run over to you both taking it as a sign to play. Part of you could only dread as the weather begun to grow colder and colder, how swiftly both wolves would take advantage and see how often they could all but knock you down into piles of snow.

“So what is the point of this again?”

Theon didn’t even need to take his eyes off the screen, wide to the point you were surprised there weren’t tears. “To get the fastest time.” Your face fell instantly, looking over to where you knew he could feel your stare as you asked why specifically. The subsequent smirk only told you that he had been vague on purpose. “Do you want the real answer or the mature answer?” Your silence told him everything. “Normally you do it to get the best time in the world, there’s a site dedicated to speed runs of games and it’s a lot of competition to be the best. The real answer is Arya said I couldn’t beat her time and if I’m going to prove her wrong I need to practice.”

Your eyes rolled as you let a smirk fall over your face, the lack of any shock that Arya was involved in any way. As you merely sat and watched, you looked over to the window on the other side of the room, the sky growing pitch black out. Telling yourself not to look at the time, it didn’t matter. He’d come home when he’d come home, you knew that. He told you that. But for some reason, you felt yourself constantly looking over to the window waiting for car lights to suddenly appear when they continued not too.

The couch you sat on always felt like it has so much room when you were by yourself, until any one of the three came along and sat next to you, feeling like the were so broad their shoulders needed a seat and a half. A sigh left Robb as he sat next to you, and you not at all aware of how as he let an arm reach along to rest against the back, how close he could come to toying with the loose strands of your hair secretly if he chose to do so.

He asked casually, you thought nothing of it or his tone, despite the slight head turn of Theon as he picked up on it, as Robb asked if Jon was going to be late again.

You nodded casually. “He said he’d rather work the overtime shift now then give up his off hours to make up for it when we get back.” You didn’t see any expression on his face, nor did you have reason to think there would be any. Asking where the wedding was, your eyes glanced over to his finally which appeared to look normal. Now missing how Theon did in fact turn his head to watch a few times with a suspicious look. “Horn Hill. It’s just a little south of Highgarden.”

“I’ve never been in the Reach.”

You only shrugged, a first hand knowledge of there and here and you knew which was better. “You aren’t missing much. It’s by the Sunset Sea which is nice, but it’s so close to Dorne that it’s unbearably hot in the summertime. Can’t imagine a Northerner would have much love for it.” Robb jesting that you got used to the opposite had you smirk a little. “Getting used to the cold is a lot easier then getting used to the heat. You get cold you just pile on layers, you overheat there’s only so many things you can do about it.”

The joke was nothing he had never said before to you, and you thought nothing of it once more, a playful grin in both his eyes and smile as Robb leaned more against the other edge of the couch gesturing down to you with a nod. “Think there’s a few things you could do about being too hot.”

The flustered smile came with an eye roll, moving to nudge at him with your leg, it pulled a warm laugh from him as you told him to shut up.

Your hair had grown out in the past few months, longer then it had been in years. A bit in a mess from being at the end of the day, it was easier. For strands to be gently toyed with and you didn’t notice. Robb too was subtle, able to let his eyes drift away from you right as you’d possibly catch him watching you. Only a few times did Theon be the one to meet his gaze when he’d turn away, but you didn’t spot that either.

Theon though, wasn’t the only one. By the time lights appeared in the window, clearly Jon had gotten home but by then you had been too preoccupied with Grey Wind practically asleep on your feet to be able to get up, and neither Robb or Theon were willing to disturb the grumpy direwolf to get him to move.

On the surface, everything seemed fine. Jon arrived home, already peeling off his heaviest layers you gave him a soft smile when he caught your eyes. But greeting everyone else, did Jons eyes stray slightly behind you and spot exactly what he thought he saw. Robb knew he was caught, but you hadn’t noticed. His hand staying in place for now, the strands still through his fingertips as Robb raised an eyebrow.

A challenge towards Jon to say something. Robb was doing nothing inappropriate that you’d be uncomfortable with, but it was the intention behind it that Jon was not alright with. An intention they both knew you were not aware of. It had only been a number of days since the incident at the main Stark house and both were well aware that Robb more then ever had been watching Jon around you.

Jon also was very well aware, that something not comfortable was sitting in Robb knowing that you were going to be hundreds of miles south with Jon alone for days. In his paranoia, anything could happen.

Not entertaining this in front of you or Theon, Jon only left for his room to change properly. Leaving in the morning, Jon could only smile that you had nearly everything packed both for you and him, not bothering to waste a second knowing neither of you would want to pack so much so early. It took him longer then it needed to, coming back out there. Sitting at his desk finally, Jon’s eyes kept switching from his computer screen to screenshotting something down on his phone adamantly, only to suddenly close the tab to a half way finished report the second he heard the door open. Phone closing and sitting flat on the table as he made quick moves to type.

Jons eyes only glanced up enough to spot that it was Robb, and for a brief moment the thought that it was you about to catch him made Jon forget for a second that Robb was on his tails just as much only with purpose. Closing the door behind him, there was quiet in the room as Jon let his brother take his time.

He could see from his side view that he was looking around the room. Jon wasn’t fooled to why. Once Robb knew exactly what this room looked like, and now, something implored him to check again. And it was obvious. You slept in here with Jon every night, this was as much your room now as it was his and it was clear. Jon had made distinctive effort to make sure you felt as comfortable as he did, a blend of you and him as your own bedroom was beginning to look more and more like the spare room Jon once used for his office space.

A deep sigh left him, “What?”

Robb leaned against the side of his desk, forcing Jon to suddenly turn looking up with unamused eyes as his brother kept a calm. Yet with a tone they both knew sounded far too much like a lecturing tone their father would so willingly give. “You know I wish I didn’t even have to ask you this.” Jon only muttered out ask him what, and found an instant regret in the answer. “Does she have anything to worry about on this trip?”

Slowly Jon pushed up from his chair. Robb standing straight to face him as Jon met his gaze, narrowed and throughout unamused. “Does she, or do you mean do you have something you think you want to worry about?”

Both brothers stared each other down, more then one thought running through both of their heads at what could be at play here, which angle each were going with. But Robb made it simple, going right for what he considered to be the biggest issue. “Going to a wedding alone with her, after what Rickon saw on your phone-”

As much as he could afford to raise his voice without drawing attention, Jon accomplished best he could. “Why do you have so little faith in me?” The question clearly took Robb off guard more then his did Jon, pressing forward with something more hurt in his distrust seeping through. “You’ve known me our whole lives, and suddenly you think I’m as bad for her as Ramsay was? I get your mad I ever put her in that position, but as soon as you hung up I made my way home. To make things right.” Your name coming from his mouth, but with far less weight of vitriol then before. “It was her I hurt, it was her I needed to make things up for, to earn her trust back. I don’t have anything to prove to you.”

Trying to move passed him, Robb stopped him. Grabbing Jon firmly by the arm, not needing to even pull him back as Jon himself pivoted to face him once more. Though there was something apprehensive in Robbs eyes as he kept his even tone still, “I’m don’t want you to prove anything to me, I’m only watching to make sure you don’t hurt her again, even on accident.”

Eyes narrowing in doubt, Jons head tilted just a bit as if exaggerating that feeling. “Are you?” Robb letting him go, Jon only paced somewhat as he ran a hand over his mouth before turning back to face him. Gesturing out to the hall beyond the closed door. “I hated protecting her, because it always meant that there was someone to protect her from. If I could’ve chosen between winning her heart by always rushing in to rescue her, or never having her but knowing she’s safe? I’d rather she never date, then have her that way.”

Robb opened his mouth, only to be cut off before he could get a word out.

Why Jon even said it, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know why it slipped out, what he had been thinking days ago, but it came out regardless. “You’ve had relationships before me. You had a lot of good relationships, I haven’t.” That time your name came out more with a forced strain attempting to cover up something akin to a crack in an insecurity long pushed away. “The only girl I’ve ever been with outside of her? You have no idea how desperate I was to get out of that. I trapped myself with someone who made me hate myself, but the morning after father told us she was coming back, I called her to tell her I’d pick her up in White Harbour. By the time I got there that night, I had finally found the courage to break up with Ygritte just because I knew seeing her again would be better even as friends then anything I was for years.”

It was obvious Robb was taken back, something hesitant in his eyes that was not expecting something so open about a time they all knew Jon rarely spoke of. “What did she-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Not for that conversation it certainly didn’t, Jon thought. Saying your name again he finally wrapped around to what he had spent a long time stewing over many nights ago. “She’s the first real chance I have at being with someone I love, and I’m hers. And I won’t let that go, just because you can’t trust me with the girl I’ve been in love with my whole life.”

Much the way Robb hung up the phone that night before Jon could get another word in, too did Jon open his door and make his way out into the main hall before Robb could speak. Whatever state he was leaving Robb in, Jon couldn’t focus on that. His brother had three days without either of you to think about what it is Jon said, and if he cared enough to do anything different about it before Jon had the patience to tackle it again.

Jon was fine admitting it was complete bias. But he thought it so many times in the long drive south that knew were he in the car with anyone else for that long he’d have prayed to the old gods for peace and quiet long before now.

But Jon loved driving places with you. You could drive, but Jon honestly couldn’t recall the last time he ever saw or heard of you doing so. You grew up on Dragonstone, a small island that had little space for main roads in the first place, then you spent your years on and off in Kings Landing. A larger city, but so cramped that anything you could’ve needed was always within walking distance.

The North though, was far too large. It alone was half of the country in terms of land. You could stand in Winterfell and look in any direction, and for hundreds of hundreds of miles it still would only land you further in the North. Having four younger siblings, Jon and Robb both got very used to driving them around and so when you would stay North, Jon was happy to include you in that. Even better then you came back from Kings Landing for good and moved there.

Finding a place close to Winterfell meant anytime you needed to go anywhere a bit too far to walk, Jon was more then happy to drive you. He was used to having you in the passenger seat. You never felt the need to fill the air with talking, you and Jon could enjoy the silence of the road. Sometimes Jon would play music but always low so that only in complete quiet with the windows up could you really hear it.

If it was in the North, Jon knew where and how to get there like the back of his hand, but here you proved his best driving companion for another reason. The south alone he was unfamiliar with, especially when you had gotten into The Reach. Meaning he relied on you for a lot of his navigation, but you were good at it. Quick and to the point, especially when passing on the edge of the much more populated High Garden.

Especially when he would be North of the wall, he had some truly terrible directions before. Both from his brothers garrisoned with him, and from some of the free folk who simply forgot that Jon hadn’t always known their lands as well as he did now.

By the time he had gotten you both to the hotel, you had joked about how Sam and Gilly got to stay in the Tarly’s fine estate while you both were in a small space with just two rooms. Dropping your overnight bag on the bed along with his, Jon only jested that there was also a balcony. You turned halfway back with a flat expression along with one raised brow, “Two rooms, and a very small balcony.” In correction.

Turning back to look at the view, Jon had come up behind you. One hand tenderly grasped your hip to almost steady you as he inevitably startled you, the other reached around to slide open the glass door. Just enough the warm breeze blew inside as Jon gently guided you to step out. Pressing you between him and the railing, Jon dropped his head to your ear with a rasp. “Fits the two of us just fine.”

Just to tease you further, Jon let a hand slip down from your hip as if toying with the idea of slipping under your skirt before you laughed his name in an embarrassed manner, grasping and pulling it back up only to be greeted by a warm laugh in your ear back. Pressing his lips to the skin just below, Jon let that hand now much more innocently wrap around your stomach, your hands reaching up to push back the sleeves of his shirt to grasp at his arm, leaning back into his touch.

“How much time do we have?”

Jon didn’t even need to see your face to know you rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a smirk. “Not enough for what you’re thinking.” Jon only replied you both would if you shared the shower with him, but you had him there too without skipping a beat. “If we share a shower here, we are bound to arrive late.”

Another laugh left him, and another kiss was left to your hair at the side of your head before turning you back into the room. “You unpack while I go first.” He answered your question before you had a chance to even think of it yourself. “So when you’re done I can help you get ready.”

It was an offer Jon knew you wouldn’t be able to resist, and that was fine with both of you. He had long since mastered the ability to do your hair for you. At first glance it would look very simple, but Jon had happily spent a long while behind you in front of the bathroom mirror, doing every small little braid for you, which all eventually entangled into a larger braid like design that you had once said was common for women in the Stormlands.

It gave him the chance to run his fingers through your hair for an extended period of time. It was how he became so good at braiding hair in the first place. When younger, you would stay over at the main house to watch movies late with he, Robb, and Theon. The later two always ended up falling asleep first, and you both would normally end up the only ones awake, finally able to watch a movie you both wanted. Normally a horror one that your own parents would’ve never let you watch at that age.

You would always end up sitting close to Jon even though you claimed you weren’t scared until one night you had enough of whatever it was. Suddenly turning into Jons side to all but hide from the screen, Jon even only twelve at the time felt warm at how much you trusted him to comfort you. So you both ended up having nights where you’d watch horror movies alone, since no one else had any interest in them. In his room when he still lived on the second floor, Jon would gather things so you both could sit back comfortably on the floor against his bed, since that angle it was easier for you to just sit back against him.

Much easier time turning to hide now that you knew it was alright to just admit sometimes the movies were scarier then you could handle. But, eventually Jon found a habit. Your hair so long back then always in his reach, and he eventually found himself trying to braid it. Even if just an excuse to be closer, and he ended up learning how to do it very well to the point that, much to Catelyns dismay, when his little sisters were still very young sometimes they just came to him asking him to braid their hair instead of their mother.

Now he did it mostly with you, and the past few months was truly striking gold for something Jon secretly always enjoyed to be close to you for. Though, Jon could admit he was less focused on the task at hand when he had helped you into the dress.

It was curse, a terrible idea keeping it. Jon remembered how beautiful it looked on you, but this was unfair. He had to have you out all night with all those other people, when he could barley keep his eyes off of you. The way it fit parts of you perfectly, but draped along so many others and down against the floor like a proper gown, you looked as if you had been born to exist in another period of time. Jon could imagine you in dresses just like this every day and never tire of it.

He had it easy, both he and Sam being in the Nights Watch meant formal events were normally told to be used as representative moments. Or as Mormont put it, “If you’re going to get so drunk you throw up on your uniform, don’t wear it in the first place.”

Though, it also meant Jon had a far less annoying time having to dress for events. It was downplayed for times like this, but it meant he could wear something he was generally already comfortable with and not wonder what he should be doing to fit in with other men. It also worked, his all black was suited perfectly with the white dress on you at his side.

Coming up to the wedding, everyone was still scattered outside by the time Jon parked. Only you didn’t move with him right away to leave, letting go of the handle to the door, Jon turned to you murmuring your name. He could see your hands toying with what you could reach of the skirt of your dress with something nervous in your eyes, as if you wanted to ask him to drive you back to the hotel instead of getting out. Reaching a hand over, he ran it over your cheek, tilting you to look at him while he leaned over to reach you better. “Talk to me.”

He could tell you bit down on your tongue, glancing out to the crowd from where your eyes could look from the side before gazing down instead of at him. The nerves prominent in your voice. “I told you it’s too much.” Asking what, he already knew the answer when you said it. “The dress. It’s way too much.”

Speaking from nothing but complete sincerity, Jon let his thumb run over your cheek as he tried to lean down to catch your eyes failing to meet his own still. “You look beautiful.” But the way you responded hurt, his heart heart at the sincerity which you said that it was alright if he wanted to tell you the truth. “The truth? What truth?”

That had you finally meeting his gaze, something nervous as it was frustrated that he hadn’t figured it out yet. “That you don’t have to keep lying about these things.” Jon didn’t even have a response to that, just something uncomfortable in his stomach as you elaborated. “Everything that happened with Daenerys wasn’t your fault, I know that. She tricked you into all of it, or forced you, I don’t know the right word, but you didn’t do anything on purpose to hurt me. So you can stop lying about things to try and make up for it, you didn’t do anything I need to forgive you for.”

Oh Jon did not have time to handle this, in the car, outside of a wedding. Swallowing it all down, Jon tilted you to look back up at him. His eyes bright but almost a bit devastated at how little he could voice the heartbreak in him all over again. “Darling, I don’t know what you think I’ve been doing, but this isn’t it. I wanted to make it up to you, because no matter what happened when I was gone, I still was the one who left when you needed me. And I’m not lying. I promise. You look beautiful, and I want everyone to see how beautiful my girl looks.”

You both knew there wasn’t much time for this, and Jon could see the insecurity bleed into guilt in your eyes for saying anything in the first place. But you nodded, suddenly pulling from his touch to collect yourself and nearly rush out of the car as if now that you brought it up, all you wished to do was avoid the conversation. Jon could only follow suit, trying to shake of the sudden weight in his own heart, knowing this was a bad time to try and understand what you just revealed to him, in front of all these people.

A hand reaching your lower back, Jon guided you through to the crowd where he had easily spotted Sam and Gilly. The former calling out to Jon, who knew the smile on his face was a little more forced then usual only hoping Sam didn’t notice. Gilly commenting right away that she thought you looked wonderful, Jon’s eyes flickered to you, the smile looking forced but not quite obvious that Gilly would’ve noticed as you replied. “Thank you, but really you look stunning.”

Nodding to Sam she had a gleeful smile, “His sister Talla helped me pick it out, otherwise I’d have no idea what to wear to something as fancy as this.”

As you found a bit of ease talking to Gilly, who was happy taking the reigns of a conversation, Jon turned to Sam hoping his own sudden unease was not noticeable, though knowing Sam, he’d pick up on it eventually. “Have you seen him yet?”

Both men knowing who Jon was referring too right away. “Earlier. He’s spent most of his time with Dickon, so, if I can get through the reception then without having to talk to him then this will be easier then I hoped it would.”

Sams relationship with his father wasn’t what Jon would call something to be envious of. The man for all he heard, sounded like a nightmare to grow up with should you be like Sam, and not live up to whatever high expectations he had. Sam had once joked that maybe he’d like Jon at least, only for them both to come to the somewhat amusing realization that considering Jon was not really highborn, then there went any chance of that.

In fact he thought, out of everyone in this little group only you would fit that bill. Jons eyes lingering on you, but with that worry he knew Sam was already noticing. Not hiding it as well as he wished he was, but it all just ambushed him so quickly. Hand somewhat running ever so slightly up and down your lower back, neither of you sure if to comfort you or him at that point.

By the time Jon wondered if you had finally come down a little, things seemed to ease up for him as well. As if your nerves heightened his own, and when they simmered so could he. Gilly looked over to the sept, as she asked “So how does it work down here? Getting married?”

Glancing first between Jon and Sam, Jon could only give a slight change to his face indicating that he didn’t know either. Mentioning at her questioning face, “I grew up in the North as well.” Sam asking didn’t they have a sept near Winterfell. “They do, but I’ve never been in it for that. My brothers and sisters were the ones that worshipped the old gods and the new, since their mother follows the Seven.”

A small look was shared between yourself and Sam, gaining Jons bemused attention. “You are in for a ceremony then.” His eyes narrowed at you, but you only held a smirk holding back what you were truly thinking. Not bothering to elaborate for him, Jon could only let his smirk out more openly. For once finding himself not caring about such closeness, Jon somewhat turned you by your upper arms, before sliding down to your waist to move you towards entering the sept finally. The smirk growing to a grin as you let out a gentle laughing protest of his name as his push.

Jon pretended not to notice Sam’s watchful eyes, not used to seeing Jon so open about being with you. In fact he knew it was the first time Sam had seen Jon spend time with you since you begun to date, this was almost brand new compared to Jons previous silent affections hiding away in his heart.

The sept in Horn Hill was much like what you said most average ones were like. Catching his curious glance, you clarified that in Kings Landing the Sept of Baelor was massive and immaculate. The statues of the Seven surrounding the main floor and reaching high to a ceiling that was taller then you knew how to describe.

Here the statues were more what he expected. Surrounding a half moon wall where the main area was modestly decorated. Banners around of the ancient sigil of the Tarly’s, a red painted huntsman yielding a bow and arrow against an array of green like grass. The septon stood at the main top with what Jon assumed was Sams father and brother. Dickon looked only a little like Sam, Jon supposed. But it felt like he was looking up to Randyll Tarly and saw nothing between the two of similarity.

In truth, the other sigil around was some he was not familiar with. More of the older houses of the Reach Jon wasn’t terribly familiar with, let alone the south in general. Though, he was here for Sam, so it didn’t truly matter. Looking down to you, he could see the hand near him was clutching the skirt of your dress a bit tightly, the nerves returning suddenly. Without much thought, Jon slipped the hand from at your back to grasping at the hand. Pulling it free enough from the fabric not to draw attention, as he slowly moved to encourage you to just let him hold your hand. Tugging you the slightest bit closer under the guise that it was more crowded in the sept then out there.

The ceremony was something. Keeping you close, Jon couldn’t help but let his mind wander nearly the entire time. There was a lot of talking. Mostly by the septon, but he felt as if he talked endlessly and Jon couldn’t help but feel it was all for the spectacle of ceremony. He hadn’t seen many, but the Northern weddings were much more simple, more quiet and certainly didn’t require someone else to conduct it for them.

Jon could just stand at the Weirwood in his own home, with his family and do it himself. Little was even spoken between the man and his bride if anything at all. Some swore their sacred vows out loud before kneeling before the heart tree to pray, some said nothing knowing that their prayers and promises here were enough and needn’t be spoken for the sake of everyone else.

It didn’t escape Jon that in this imagine created in his head, he could see you. Not even dissimilar to what you looked like now. A bit warmer of a dress of course. Here the men draped their bride in a cloak of their family sigils, but in the North, it was not as formal of a design. Coming from ancient times when in place of the outer clothes they wore now, cloaks made with a fur around the shoulders were what kept people warm. The man would wear it standing there, and the bride would come out to be given his fur to keep warm.

Jon knew that his family had well kept furs from years beyond counting for that very purpose, not that he had a chance to use it as such. His father had married Catelyn in her home of Riverrun, far from his own home. It had been during a time of political strife for the country. His father and your own father and uncle were all heavily involved in the situation in those days but no one seemed to like talking about it. But Jon couldn’t imagine having a marriage in a place like this.

He felt out of place, uncomfortable almost. He wanted you out in fresh air in his home, in the place he fell in love with you. He’d sneak you away before the reception was even over, a smaller guest house seldom used would be the perfect place. Keep you to himself for a while, and slowly take you apart before keeping you in his bed as long as you could handle. Which Jon knew was dangerous to think in public, but he certainly was learning how much you could handle. How much he was teaching you to handle.

Inhaling deeply, Jon willed himself to keep his mind calm. Keep that thought from coming so close to the forefront when he had a night to get through before he got you alone. He could think about it then, not now, not in front of other people.

Jon begun to think you perhaps were a bit less invested then you pretended to be. Eyes forward, but you slowly begun to fidget your hand in his, before Jon picked up right away what you needed. Gently toying with your fingers, tracing over what he could reach. Glancing down to you, he caught your eyes a bit brighter then before, no doubt realizing your mind treading into a bit of boredom was noticed.

He didn’t know most of these people, so Jon let himself not care. Pulling you closer into his side, you were able to turn a bit to rest your head more by his neck, the brush of his curls dancing along your own skin in return. The rest of the ceremony felt odd, even once it picked up. Standing beside each other, holding hands lightly did the septon tie a cloth around them before undoing it just as fast and again all he could think was how preformative it was.

Only for it to be topped, by a loud deceleration by Dickon, “With this kiss, I confess my love.”

Jon couldn’t imagine a world in which his father would’ve ever agreed to something that exaggerated for the sake of it. Turning to you, your eyes were still brighter then before like you could shake things off as you held a tone towards him of knowing. “So, was it as exhilarating as you thought it would be?”

Looking down with narrow eyes, Jon only muttered as he pulled you close again into his side. “You southerners talk too much.” Over the crowd it mostly blended in, but so close to his ear Jon could only smile as he heard you laugh freely.

Leaning into him more, you let a hand reach over to grasp at the belt across his person, “The rest is easy. Food, drink..dancing.” Jon only jesting that he couldn’t wait to see what you southerners considered to be dancing.

By the time he did, Jon whispered it into your ear directly. “If my father danced like this at his wedding, would your uncle have a video of it?” Whispering that you could ask, a mischievous look in your eye knowing how dangerous that would be in the wrong hands, and how tempting it would be to accidentally gift that footage to one of his younger siblings. “Is every dance like this?”

Shaking your head, you held a laugh still in your voice. “No, eventually they run out of tradition far before they run out of wine, and then people can enjoy themselves like normal.”

It came out before Jon could stop it. Leaning more to your ear, a whispered rasp making you shiver even without his touch. “I don’t think the way I want to enjoy you is what they have in mind.” Looking up with wide eyes and a flustered look Jon only smiled. Pulling your head close to leave a kiss to your hair mumbling to fluster you even further. “Bedding Ceremonies probably aren’t as exciting as what we already do.”

Hissing his name, Jon shifted to let one hand drape along the back of your chair, his hand on the other side freely running along your arm as his other finished what was left of his wine. You instead nearly hid in yours as you muttered for him only, “Anyone could be listening.”

That time he didn’t even hide his voice, just leaning down to you a bit knowing if someone heard, then they heard. “If there’s one place it’s appropriate to talk about taking the woman you love to bed.” The roll in your eyes was not at all meaningful, mostly a diversion of the feeling in your chest no doubt before people noticed Jon was making you feel worked up. But Jon let his hand run smooth along your arm, letting his head turn to rest more against your hair before his lips pressed a kiss there as you both watched the final of traditional dances begin.

Your voice was gentle when you spoke again. “Gilly’s doing rather well.” Both looking to where on the dance floor with other family and important guests were, Sam and Gilly both had joined the dances, Jon commenting he was surprised she knows how to when you shrugged a shoulder. “She had been practising nearly every night to make sure she didn’t embarrass herself.”

He tried to hold it in, he really did. But he lasted about ten seconds before it slipped out. “Is that why you’re not out there?” Your face fell as you glared up at him, Jon barley holding back a grin. “I understand, you don’t want to embarrass yourself. It’s been years why would you remember any of it?”

You stuck to a glare in silence for as long as it took to turn back with a huff and a shake of your head. “I’d have gotten up and danced with someone to prove you wrong, if you weren’t right.” That time Jon laughed, only he pulled you along with him as he did so. Your face twisting into something much more soft then before. “Listen, about earlier-”

Shaking his head, Jon pulled his arm from across your chair to cup the side of your face as he turned to you. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not mad.” Letting his thumb run across your cheek, his face twisted somewhat. “When did you start thinking that way? That I was only doing all this as an act?” Trying to stutter that you didn’t say that, Jon caught you in the lie. “Thats what you meant.”

Letting his hand slip more down to run along your neck, the sensation gave a shiver through you as if awakening you enough again to find your voice. “Margaery said something about it. That Dany was trying to manipulate you to get back at me, that everything I saw or heard she wanted me to hear.. not because it was happening organically.” Jon would’ve interjected, but he could see you had one more point being held onto. “That and.. Arya had said that if you couldn’t get her to take responsibility, then you would.”

Inhaling through his nose, Jon took a moment as his eyes closed to consider that he knew Arya meant well, but likely didn’t know how to phrase things that wouldn’t give you the wrong ideas. Looking back, Jon let his hand toy with the edges of your dress mindlessly. “I didn’t tell you any of that, because I knew it wouldn’t make you feel better. All I cared about was proving I never wanted to hurt you, and I’d never do it again.”

Glancing to the side as if checking no one was listening, you nodded gently. “You didn’t need to prove anything, I wasn’t upset because I didn’t trust you.”

Leaning a bit closer, he let the hand toying with the edge of your dress drift back more to your jaw as his thumb ran along your cheek. “And if I did anything, I’d want you to be upset about it. I’d want you to not trust me for betraying you like that. You’re allowed to blame me for things, sometimes.”

Looking back around once more, you shook your head as if trying to dismiss the conversation. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this here.” Jons brows narrowed just the slightest picking up on your avoidance, but he let it go just for now.

The music finally having changed to something a little more normal, but on the slow side, Jon stood with a hand outstretched to you. That time you were the one who looked to him in a question, but he only nodded his head to the side where the dancing was to implore you. “When was the last time I got to dance with you for anything?”

A shy smile came over you as you accepted his offer. “Were we even teenagers?”

With a surprising amount of grace, Jon took your hand and all but spun you onto the dance floor before grasping both you by your other hand and pulling you into him. The timing worked well, the song only quiet and slow as Jon let one hand leave yours to run down your waist closer to your hip to keep you steady but close. The now free hand of yours ran to sit flat high on his chest, movements slow.

Jon could tell you were a bit flustered. Not used to something quite as openly romantic as this, but the thought only made him smile, catching your attention. “The Winter Harvest when you were twelve. That was the last time I danced with you.” Asking nothing but with curiosity why you both stopped then, Jons answer came with his hand at your hip pulling you just he bit closer as he leaned more down to you. “I was fourteen, my feelings for you were starting to get serious, and every other boy around me was only dancing with girls they were dating. I didn’t want you to think the wrong thing.”

A small smile came over you, nearly forcing one onto Jons in response. “Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Closing enough of the gap that you could nudge your nose with his. “Wouldn’t want you to think what? That I love you?” Not giving you the chance to look away, Jon captured your lips with his. Nothing urgent, but a chaste kiss with just enough of a passion put into it that your eyes were still fluttering open by the time Jon pulled back to look at you. Waiting until you met his grey ones, he let them flicker down not just to your lips again but what he could see before returning. “I don’t want you to worry about what happened. We’re moving passed it, I want to just look forward to whatever comes for us next. I’ll always be sorry for leaving you like that, but looking back on it now isn’t making you feel better.”

Hardly noticing anyone around you, your voice came out gentle with a small nod. “I’m not sure Robb thinks the same.” His brows narrowed but allowed you to elaborate. “You told me a while ago not to worry about it, but I know something’s wrong. He’s angry, I thought it was at me but sometimes he seems fine, other times I don’t know. But I do know sometimes he’s angry with you.”

If he gave anything away, Jon had done a good job of hiding it. Face twisting just a little as if only in response to new information, he repeated exactly what he had said before albeit with a new weight hiding behind the realization. “He just cares about you.”

“Why does caring about what happened mean he’s still angry with you?”

Shifting the hand on your hip, Jon cupped the back of your head. Pulling your front more into his chest as he swiftly adjusted positions to still look like you both fit in. Rasping low in your ear, Jon knew at least this way you couldn’t see his troubled expression. “He cares about you, I hurt you and he doesn’t want to see that happen again. He’s just holding me accountable-” Being cut off you looked up enough to mutter that you’d talk to him but Jon just soothed you right back into his front. “Let me handle Robb, right now, I want you to enjoy yourself.”

A small huff left you which mimicked a laugh, as your head turned up without pulling away, trying to nuzzle a bit more into his front.”I always enjoy myself when I’m with you.” Heart filling in his chest, Jon sighed deeply as he let his lips press a kiss to the side of your head. His eyes catching only for a moment, Sam. A look in his eye trying to convey what almost appeared to be pride, only for him to shake his head nearly indeterminable to Sam, before drifting his gaze away to you once more.

In truth Jon was starting to wonder if bringing you here was a scheme by Sam, just as an opportunity to watch Jon in a relationship he’s actually happy in. Sam more then once when this first started, told him he couldn’t be happier for him, and since he hadn’t actually seen you and Jon, only before when you were still just friends. Jons obvious affection for you that so blatantly breached the appropriate bounds of friendship, and the painful number of times he had to hold that back from someone else seeing it.

But now, nothing was keeping him back and considering how Sam both invited him to this but also seemed to be going out of his way to keep himself and Gilly from interrupting you both, he started to suspect that this was all just a long con to watch Jon with the girl he’s pined over all his life.

The music clearing up a bit, Jon wasn’t even sure how long you both had been there. Having you warm in his arms was more then he could’ve ever asked for, the way you nuzzled into his front as if hiding from the rest of the wedding to live in the small bubble only consisting of you both.

Turning to look as chatter begun to buzz about, Jon didn’t move you from his hold even as Sam and Gilly both approached. You tried to stand up properly, but Jon ran his hand down your hair a bit firmer as if to keep you right where you were, your hands slinking up more towards his shoulders to hold against him better as he did so.

If there was one thing from the event Jon knew Gilly would remember, it was what came next. Someone, what Jon could only assume was a friend or cousin of Dickon begun riling up everyone and Jon instantly knew what was coming next. Glancing at Sam with a knowing, you watched as well but with a bit more of a modest interest whereas Gilly begun looking rather confused, and soon almost a mixture of horrified and baffled.

Many of the women ferrying Dickon off, clothes slowly coming with it as laughter was shared, and even more of a sight, did many of the men pick up the poor bride, doing the exact same but with the amusement, laughter and music far more lively as they were ferried off, before Gilly muttered, “What was that?”

You were the one to answer, a more knowing tone as if a dread of yours in the future, as if Jon would ever allow that. “The bedding ceremony. Men take the bride and women bring the groom as they, you know,”

“Bed each other?”

An amused look in your eyes, you nodded but it did nothing to help alleviate the feeling. Jon taking over, failing to keep a grin off his face at the whole ordeal. “It’s tradition. Centuries ago, the only way to know if the bride and groom consummated their marriage was-”

Gilly’s voice raised almost comically horrified. “To watch?”

Sam tried to assure her, but it was no less helpful when he was as amused as Jon was. “I’m sure to you, it seems rather strange but every bride goes through it.” Again her voice emphasized the word every, and Jon couldn’t stop the grin at how unhelpful any of this was to make it make sense to someone like her. “It’s less important now, mostly it was also to ensure that the bride was a virgin on her wedding night, but since that’s not really important anymore,” Jons face twisted downward into a warning as Sam all but nodded at Jon and yourself to make a silent point. “It’s mostly just for fun.”

Each word with it’s own pause after it to make her point, “That does not sound fun.”

You could only mutter flatly leaning still into Jons front that you agreed. He didn’t mean to say it, let alone in front of Sam and Gilly as well, but it came out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Don’t worry, I’d prefer not to break a mans jaw when it’s our turn.”

You took it as flustered but playful as you normally did, not really responding verbally but a wide eyed smile smothered onto your face as you hissed his name, but Jon couldn’t help but grin right back as he let his hand at your hip pinch you just the slightest. Pushing you into him with a disapproving glare that held as much meaning as none towards him.

He ignored the way Sam and Gilly were looking at you both, and too he ignored the way that truly, Jon wasn’t actually joking. Being at a wedding with you, now of all times felt dangerous. Especially considering the unspoken intent behind the tradition they just watched. It wasn’t just consummating a marriage that was the concern, it too was to ensure, at least many centuries ago, that any child born to the woman was legitimate to the new husband.

That was the absolute last thing Jon needed to focus on at that moment, more thoughts of you and anything close to you being pregnant. He swore internally, he was going to throttle Tormund the next time he saw him for putting this in his head.

It was far later into the night then Jon intended to keep you out, but once the four of you had sat down to share a drink, it ended up being a few more. Jon could handle it fine, Sam wasn’t looking great, and certainly Gilly wasn’t either. How much she ever drank he’d be shocked by the answer if it was more then barley any.

You though, Jon knew better. You seemed fine, keeping up with how cognizant Jon was of everything but all it took was a look deeper into your eyes and he could see the slight glaze of a buzz. His hand gripped the mug in his hand so tight that were it made of glass, it would have smashed to bits. He barley had anything influencing him, but just on the verge of enough that he remembered the last time you both drank together.

And what happened in the car on the drive home. His grey eyes grew darker as he suddenly struggled to keep his eyes off of you. His thoughts consumed with what he wanted to do, and just like last time, having to fight passed a dress was so much easier then pants. He could sink inside you without a second thought.

It was growing, the burning impatience in him. The last time too he took you in his car, Jon knew what came the morning after, or what should’ve. He was going to wake you up with his mouth that morning, taste you until you woke up coming for him before fucking you into the bed. But he got called in before he could even taste you once, and then everything else spiralled after that.

Not this time, tomorrow was free of any need and Jon was not going to waste any time when he woke up. Part of him wondered if it would be easier to have you sleep bare for him, or if truly, you wearing clothes was going to even be an issue in the first place. Judging by how hot his blood ran, he doubted you’d be wearing anything within a few seconds of locking the door to your hotel.

At the rate Jon was feeling, he was truly beginning to doubt whether or not he would survive the drive back to the hotel. There weren’t many secluded roads between here and there as far as he knew, but his blood boiled thinking about sinking you down on his length in his front seat while you were dressed like this.

More then once as the night drew into a close did Sam ask if Jon was alright to drive, and more then once Jon assured him he was. It had been enough time since his last drink that most of the alcohol had made it’s swift path out of his system, and as Jon gestured to Gilly who was leaning so much against Sam she was practically asleep, Jon jested “Is she going to be alright?”

Looking over in his own amusement of her, Sam smiled. “We’re only going a short ride to the house, I’m sure she can survive by then.” Nodding over to where you were politely saying goodbye to Sams sister and mother, he added “She doesn’t even look drunk?”

Turning somewhat to catch your gaze, Jon only smiled with his own bemused glint in his eye, though what has hidden behind it still raged within his blood. Turning back, Jon swallowed that all down though, for as long as he could try. “She’s good at hiding it. Take care of of Gilly.” A half hug the two could share with the girl in question trying to drunkenly hug Jon back as well before Jon left them to their devices and made his way over to you.

Finally standing alone, Jon gently grasped your hips, leaning down so his curls brushed against your neck as he murmured in your ear. “Let me take you back to the hotel.” Somewhat trying to turn to look at him, Jon instead prevented you by leaning down further to press a kiss to the skin just under your ear. “I’m tired of sharing you.” Only muttering that you’ve barley left his side all night, Jon only rasped with a bit more of a grin. “Barley is still too much.”

You were much more composed then some of the others around as he led to the car. Mostly steady save for Jon having to guide you a bit more down the steps, he was trying to assess just how drunk you were, but even in your eyes you still could look at him clear as day. Driving out was easy, it was not a long way back to the hotel but each time Jon glanced at you did something further in his blood take over.

A pressing need to drag you onto his lap, but there was no real place to stop anywhere along the way. Even worse, you were quiet and none the wiser to the burning inside him. Looking out the window with a gentle ease from a night you didn’t expect to enjoy, but the dress on you still so tempting. It didn’t even show off anything really, not in that sense. Long sleeves, draping along the floor like a gown, it wasn’t tight and didn’t overly show off your plush curves, but somehow it made it more tempting for him.

As if underneath such a beautiful and innocent dress, was something only Jon was privy to. It was a body that was more beautiful then he could rationalize made any sense, you were as if designed just to tempt him and that only made his cock grow hard under his clothes. Hands tighter on the steering wheel, he risked another glance at a red light. Your eyes met his, and your voice soft and gentle only made the feeling grow more and more. “Thank you.” Muttering for what, your eyes were almost more tempting then anything else, with nothing but a feeling Jon knew was love deep in their depths. “For bringing me. I don’t normally like weddings, but being with you was more fun then I thought.”

Jons smile despite everything underneath it, was as soft as he looked back to the road as the light turned green. “Good, because you’re the only person from now on I’m bringing to any wedding.” Did that have a second intention behind it? Perhaps, but Jon knew you were too innocent to pick up on it, which only made it worse. Only made the need for you worse, how he could sit there and think of absolutely anything about you, and you’d never know.

It was a bit deplorable, that train of thought. How deeply Jon could fall into the depravity of something obscenely perverse and you’d be none the wiser that he was even capable of thinking such things. “You planning on going to a lot of weddings, Snow?”

Jon however, only smirked. “Just enough to see you dressed up like this more often.”

That time you didn’t even try to meet his flickering gaze. Something modest yet shy in his compliments and something much more obvious brewing. There was no doubt that you were beginning to put the dots together, at least some of them. How Jon had been the one to suggest the dress, encourage you to put it on, how much he wanted to buy it for you but held himself back.

How long the feelings between you had been so painfully close to boiling over, and Jon knew you still didn’t know the half of it.

Managing to make it to the hotel, Jon felt his insides almost burning too hot as he led you with a hand on your lower back into the building. The elevator doors closing before you both, Jons eyes tore down what he could see of your frame from beside you. How you were likely planning to get into the room, get out of your dress and have a shower to refresh yourself, not knowing what he had in mind.

The guilt was close in his heart as Jons eyes flickered up to where he knew the security cameras naturally were placed and his hand at his side tensed. Telling himself to just not do anything, eyes were clearly on you and he didn’t need to get you both into trouble before you even had one night here yet. How you were so utterly tempting, his hand on your lower back curling just enough to slightly catch the skirt of your dress between a few fingers as if tempted to yank it up and shove you against the wall here and now.

It was almost a painful wait. Each passing second until the doors opened, and then still Jon had to make it every step towards the door. You had even said something but his mind didn’t catch it, too distracted the moment your voice spoke out as to how he wanted that sound to be higher pitched, more needing, and begging his name like he knew he could make you.

Jaw clenched, his face twisted into something that to an outsider looked almost angry or frustrated but the moment you asked him gently to just prompt his attention to you, “Jon?” He only shook his head, nudging you forward the few remaining steps towards the door. First the key card, then moving you inside, it was as if Jon was ticking things off the list before he could get to what he wanted.

By the time he had finally locked the door, you already strayed too far from him. Sitting at the edge of the bed, you were carefully taking your shoes off. Swallowing, Jon roughly muttered your name. Head peeking up as you sat your shoes down carefully, Jon outstretched a hand taking a few steps inside the room further.

Pushing up to your feet, you gently grasped his and the tenderness which you did so and looked at him assumed Jon had better intentions then he truly did. Suddenly before you could say anything, did Jon tighten his grip on your hand as he first yanked you to him. Only a gasp had the time to leave you before Jon grabbed both your hips, turned you on the spot. More roughly then he intended too, Jons impatience took over as he suddenly pushed you against the wall. Crowding over you, Jon didn’t give you a chance to even gasp before he leaned down and roughly pressed his lips to yours.

Hands tight on your hips, he nearly pushed you into the wall further and further as if worried you’d tried to run from him, only to lose himself in a groan as you reached your hands up. Winding around the back of his neck before sinking into the thick curls loose around him. Whatever softness he should’ve begun with didn’t exist.

Deepening the kiss almost right away, Jon had your head at an angle where he was hovered over you enough that you had nowhere to go if not his lips. Again and again Jon kissed you, some trying to be loving, others letting his teeth bite and nibble down on your bottom lip with a growl forming in his chest. Dragging one hand up to grasp at your jaw, Jon barley could turn your head up before he let it slide behind your neck. Grasping at the hair he could find, Jon kept you pressed to his kiss as his own blood burned at the sudden pulling of your fingers at his curls.

Pushing you further into the wall, Jon had no relief. There were too many layers, but then he would have to part himself from your kiss, and he simply wasn’t ready. Each breath you gave, was taken without any mercy. You could barley get tiny sounds out of you, Jon stole all of them. Hand almost massaging through the soft strands of your hair, his lips were soft against yours but guided every movement.

A rougher bite to your bottom lip contrasted the softness, a gasp barley coming from you in such a perfect sounding pitch in his ear. Using that opportunity, Jon gently slid his tongue into your mouth. Brushing up against yours to such an addicting taste. Whatever you had during the dinner was gone, and just the remaining hint of a sweet wine graced his senses along with something so unique to you that he could only describe as a drug.

Your hands inadvertently tugged again, only to cause Jon to try and fail to ground into your hips. But his mind raged, he’d have to part, and he didn’t know if he could yet. Over and over with a gentleness did Jon taste inside of your mouth, his tongue heavy against yours making you powerless against him, your nails digging further into his locks as his grip on your hip begun already to leave hints of bruises in the shape of his hand.

Barley convincing himself to pull back, the saliva between you snapped as he opened his eyes to yours still sealed shut. Your lips more plush as they no doubt tingled like his from the force, and parted as if trying to catch your breath and yet bracing yourself for not knowing when Jon would take that away once more. It was right away, but much shorter. Urgent and pulled back with another hissing bite before he spared no second dragging his teeth down to your neck.

The hand on the back of your head, tilted you to the side as it then ran down your frame to join at your other hip. Jon hardly allowed himself time to press his lips or brush his tongue along the sensitive skin before he sunk his teeth down into it like a wolf subduing it’s prey. And it worked.

Gasping his name, you held more tightly against him as he bit until it left marks and the sucked the skin to leave a bruise that he barley offered you condolence with a kiss after for the roughness. Every single inch he did it to down to your shoulder, pressing a single kiss to what he could access before returning to your lips.

That time he was more soft and less demanding, but his hands had ulterior motives. Bunching up the skirt of your dress in his hands, Jon only pulled back from you enough to yank the dress up off your body. He didn’t care one bit what happened to it now, tossing it to the side before he ran his eyes down the length of your body.

Instead of the roughness the same though, Jon knelt down. His hands smoothing out against your hips before grasping each side of your underwear. His eyes seeking yours, bright and wide as if waiting for you to nod, as if you’d give any other answer by now. Slowly, Jon pulled them down your legs, patiently lifting one foot of the ground, then back down to the other. One hand ran up, palm smooth against your bare leg as the other didn’t even care if you saw.

Shoving the already damp fabric into his back pocket.

Lips finding your upper thighs, Jon gently prompted you to widen your stance, as a shaky breath from you hit his ears. Like a song in the air, the nerves in you as he did this when truly you should’ve been used to it by now. Closer and closer to the warmth between your legs he got before the thought hit him, looking up to you with a bright gaze, his voice rasped low in contrast. “Had anyone ever done this to you before?”

Your brows raised in surprise at the question, your voice a bit stammering as you tried to come off as more composed then your breathless tone spoke of. “I uhm, I mean you’ve done it many times now..”

Interrupting you, Jon smoothed his palms up and down your hips and thighs to his ease reach, his brows narrowed. Tone more curious and soft trying to convince you it was an innocent question. “I mean before me. You told me that you thought men didn’t like to, but did anyone ever even offer? Did you ever ask?”

Jons head fell forward, pressing against your mound as his eyes closed at how shyly you shook your head no. You were so much more innocent in mind compared to him. The moment Jon first learned about this, he had envisioned you. He was a teenage boy, you had been staying in his house even and still he couldn’t help himself. The older he got the worse the want got. He’d desperately look for videos and find none that were close. The women never looked enough like you to pretend, and if they did, the men never looked like him and it would shatter the illusion of being able to picture it as you both against his own bed.

His voice was a rough rasp as it came out, “So you assumed I was only offering to be nice, when you’d never even knew what it felt like?” Why the next question came out he wasn’t sure, but something deep within him needed to know. “Did you ever want me to?” Your eyes grew wide, and your lips parted in something stunned but you said nothing. He knew he had you. “Darling, before we were together, did you ever imagine me tasting you just like this?” The fact that you nodded was nothing short of a miracle, but it only pulled a growl as Jons forehead rested against you again.

Muttering in a rougher tone full of an emotion he would describe as angry. “Everything they made you do for them, to them, and they never even bothered teaching you what it felt like?” You tried to mutter his name, but Jon changed his mind. Suddenly rising up to his full height, his figure fully dressed felt so much broader and taller against you now completely bare. Leaning down to catch your eyes directly onto his, his curls creating a curtain around you both so there was little to distract you from him as he asked it. “Do you remember when I said I would get off thinking about you?”

Your hands held gentle at his waist, your eyes nervous but with a trusting that made his heart feel so heavy at being directed towards him as he continued.

“I need to know. What were you thinking about?” One hand changed to run smoothly down your hair by the side of your head, slightly stopping to tilt your gaze up to his. “When you called my name out in the apartment, what were you thinking about that made you feel that way?”

If Jon could place a bet on how hard your heart was beating at that moment, he was sure he’d win all the gold he could imagine on being right. Your hands twitched against his sides, but you didn’t move. Regardless, Jon could see by the heavier rise and fall of your chest that too were you breathing harder as you said it, an innocent little lie for your own embarrassments sake. “It just slipped out.” Tilting his head somewhat to indicate he didn’t believe you, you looked away as you found a more truthful little lie instead. “I was just trying to tune him out, and thinking about you in general was more comforting.”

That would’ve been heartbreakingly sweet if Jon believed that was the full truth. “Darling.”

Your eyes only closed for a moment, before sighing deeply. Looking back up at him, your fingers twitched and fidgeted more and more out of the pure nerves at telling him the truth, no matter how little he’d ever judge you for it. “I heard...I thought I heard something..from your room.” Head leaning down to try and catch your eye, you bit your lip before forcing it out. “Something like a groan..and it..it reminded me of what I thought you’d sound like when you..”

Freezing for a moment before the ice shattered and burned fire though him Jon felt his cock throb behind all his layers as he put it together. He had gotten off to the sound of your voice, and must have not been as quiet at one point as he thought. Groaning loud enough you heard through the walls. His voice distant as the grey in his eyes dimmer darker and darker. “And that made you cum?” Your eyes closed with something nervous inside you as you nodded your head, only for Jon to tilt your head back up to him indicating you needed to look at him properly. “My hand was around my cock listening to the voice notes you sent me, and my groan made you cum that easily?” You only nodded shyly, and once, but it had an immediate reaction.

Grasping you by the back of your head again, Jon pulled you to meet his lips. Deep and rough right away, refusing to let you part as he pulled you from the wall and turned you into the room. Only breaking apart as Jon all put pushed you to sit on the edge of the bed.

Instead of going to you, Jon stepped back. Your palms braced at your sides digging into the sheets as you watched, pressing your thighs together as if he didn’t desperately want to see how wet you were between them. But in a silence with black eyes did Jon start pulling everything off of him. Hardly looking away if he didn’t have too, your chest rising and falling quickly at the slowly uncovered skin of his body.

He barley even considered how it looked from the height you sat at. Pulling his final bottom layers off, only to expose how hard his cock had been. Heavy and thick your eyes were drawn right too it as Jon forced the groan in his chest down. “Don’t look at me like that.” Your eyes shooting up to his dark and needing but disapproving ones in question. “I want to taste you, don’t look at me like you want the opposite.”

Breathless but genuine, you made it so much worse. “I do though.”

Jaw clenched, Jons eyes closed as long as it took to force those thoughts back down, no matter how much you could see how worked up it made him. “Don’t.” Suddenly kneeling down before you, Jon pushed your knees apart. The brief sight of your hands digging into the sheets with something nervous, but his eyes pierced through yours with a roughness to match.

Ever so forward he shuffled, enough that one hand could leave your knees, skipping up to your side, only to gently cup your breast, his thumb right away brushing against the small bud as a gasp left you, muscles tensing a bit as he leaned up more to you, from his now lower position. Firmer he grasped and more pressure he ran this thumb over your nipple, but so much softer did you become in the touch, muscles tensing again before relaxing. Your eyes fluttering closed right as Jon ran his nose down the length of yours, nudging slightly as he rasped, his other hand pushing open your other leg by the inner thigh more. “Jon-”

Interrupting, Jon couldn’t take much more of this and cut you off before you could suggest anything else. “Lay back for me, right here.” Waiting until you nodded, Jon helped you lay back so your legs say over the edge and your hips were just a the right position to move you has he would wish. Only leaning up over the bed slightly, Jon cupped your cheek before bringing you to his lips. The kiss much more gentle but lingering, and even so he went back twice more when he himself was the one attempting to part ways.

Never picking up the pace, his lips sought a path down your neck. Reaching the valley of your breasts, Jon kissed down it as suddenly both hands roughly grasped at you, your back arching with a gasp released from your lips, but he didn’t linger. Not then. Staying with his hands groping you over and over as he felt your muscles tense already before the stretch became to inconvenient for him, back now kneeling on the ground before you.

Both hands pulled you more over the edge by your hips, his eyes catching your hands trying to grasp at the sheets and biting down against your lip. Down your stomach, Jon didn’t once let his lips leave your skin, a trail of saliva following his kiss no doubt cool in the open air, but he did not skip to where his feast awaited yet.

Instead, letting them trail down your hips and your thighs, pulling your leg wider to allow him to kiss his way half until gently pulling your leg up, resting it over his shoulder before swapping sides to do the same. Both thighs over his broad shoulders, he could feel the edges of your foot’s heel tracing along his back and looking up your hands dug deeper into the sheets.

Finally though, allowing his eyes to close, Jon had one need in mind and no longer the patience to draw it out. Hands tight on your hips to keep you pressed into the bed, Jon closed the gap keeping him from you.

He always tried to start slowly, gentle. His tongue making tiny, gentle swiping licks along your clit had you gasp right away, back arching if not for his hands pressing you down without much ability to move without his permission. Slowly he moved his tongue along the sensitive bundle, little patterns he knew got to you and with how quickly he felt your thighs around him tense, he knew you were more worked up already then you led on.

For everything any advice would try to give a man and make him an expert at such a task, Jon knew it was all useless. He didn’t need anything special or outrageous to work you up for him, simple, slow, simply not being predictable worked best with you. One pattern until you were drawing closer ever more to an orgasm, before Jon would change.

Each time he heard a little whine erupt from your chest, a beautiful little noise and never followed up with asking him or begging him for anything. You just lay there, and trusted Jons judgment. From small licks to much more sloppy work, Jon interrupted himself to suddenly suck at your clit, the cry then was perfect. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes to see how you looked, he couldn’t distract his focus.

Teeth barley scraping before returning to almost as if a kiss, soaking you as much as he knew that you were about to soak his mouth the moment he strayed downward to where you were truly offering the purest of tastes. But not yet, he needed to work you up to it. You came so painfully fast whenever he tasted you, and Jon needed to teach you to let him savour it. He knew how easily he could overstimulate you, but the taste was nothing you understood, he needed you to learn how to let him have you this way.

To ease you into handling more and more, to teach you how to keep up with Jons desperate, clawing appetite for everything your body could gift to him. Drawing you nearer and nearer, his focus on your clit was nearly stinging by then, but you couldn’t stop him. His strength compared to yours was something else entirely, and until you begged for him to stop, Jon would keep you here.

There was no one around, no one to interrupt. And nowhere to go in the morning that would needlessly take him from you. One would think Jon got as much pleasure running his tongue along your clit as you gained from it, but truly, he did. The small, breathless sounds trying to hide in your chest made Jons cock throb. He was so painfully hard, and yet currents of pleasure would run through his veins and attacking each nerve every time he felt you come close.

Making you feel goodoo was genuinely, without any exaggeration, something that Jon adored doing. It was something he could always give you, and it wasn’t the sort of gift that other people could so easily offer. And until Jon, no one else did offer it. No one cared about you enough, but the way your thighs tensed and your feet dug until the muscles of his back, Jon held back a grunt in his chest. If he was to be completely honest with himself, any man who didn’t enjoy being between a womans legs like this was pathetic.

Tighter his hands gripped you, and more he yanked you down the bed to hang over it’s edge so Jon could shift at what angle he teased you at. Once then twice he felt your end nearing, and both times just as you were about to part your lips and beg his name, did Jon leave you, letting his lips and teeth sink high into your thighs, the same bruising, indenting work he gave to your neck but where no one but Jon would see.

One orgasm denied one side, then another the other, part of Jon felt a wave flow through him of something burning at the image. He didn’t know how he’d ask you for that, if not wanting to accidentally kill you of embarrassment. Nor did he truly trust no one to see the photo if he did take it. But the image was there, bruising your inner thighs with his mouth, and the additional image of maybe pulling out of you just once to cover you with his seed, and take a picture of it.

Maybe he’d do it last, so that too would perhaps some still be inside you enough it was clear he had taken you time and time again more then one way. You’d feel terribly embarrassed letting him do that, but even if he didn’t have it in him to take a picture of the sight, he’d want to do it anyways. If, Jon thought, he was strong enough to be able to pull out of you in time.

Which was another issue all together, even telling himself he’d be willing to cum anywhere but deep inside you. Finally, as he sucked roughly at your clit to the point he felt your hand toy with raking through his curls, did Jon sink lower.

Shift your hips up more, Jon finally could sink down into your cunt. You were utterly soaked. His eyes opening just enough to see what you offered him, before smothering his growl against you. The vibrations making you cry out more and more, but Jon finally could run his tongue flat along your folds and seek the heavy taste of purely you.

Jon didn’t even register how freely and unbecoming of him did he groan against you, your taste better then any food or drink he’s had and you offered it up to him for free. He had to do nothing to convince you to spread your legs for him, and Jon was greedy to have it. His facial hair scratched raw against your new marks, your hand digging into his hair that time.

A rush of need coursing through him as you pulled at the strands. Jons eyes opened, nothing but black staring up at your frame, splayed out as he never stopped his mouth or tongue. Watching you with a darkness as he drank from your cunt, eyes rolling into the back of his head he closed them again and dragged his tongue along inside of you.

Soaking everything up, and even there he could feel you clenching around him so close. Sliding one hand along your hip, did Jon roughly grasp the meat of your ass, almost pushing you to his mouth more, his tongue running along you with nothing but a need to get as much taste as possible. Not even focused on bringing you to an orgasm, Jon growled and groaned more each time he sunk deep and was graced with more of your taste.

He could almost not hear your beautiful high pitched begs, the senses not tethered to his taste and touch alone almost were muffled as if underwater. “Jon, please..”

Barley willing to detach from your cunt, Jon just barley managed to hiss out in what was likely barley a comforting tone. “I’ve got you, darling.” His eyes fluttered open enough without ever leaving his tasting of you to see you nod, head nearly thrown back as it fell back to the bed, your hand no longer tight in his hair but holding on to him for all you had.

His mouth soaked you as much as you soaked him, drinking every bit of wetness you offered to him, and Jon leaving only the traces of his saliva to echo the greed to held in it’s place. The bruising around your thighs still making your feet dig deeper into his back instinctively as his coarse facial hair scratched at the raw skin, a sick blend of pain and pleasure that he loved keeping you on the edge of.

But Jon was tied, you were so close. He could sense you were so close and if you came, you’d gift him something perfect to drink of you, but then he’d have to let you finish. And Jon wasn’t sure he wanted to let you do that just yet. Maybe later, maybe not tonight.

So he bided his time, dragging you along that edge into the darkness but never letting you fall, just the tease that the fall existed without giving it to you. His tongue flat along your folds ran back to your clit just to tease before returning back to the source.

Inching you closer and closer and just as your head threw itself back with a cry of his name, did Jon take it all from you. So cruel and sudden too. All but throwing your thighs from his shoulders as he tore himself from your cunt. The moment your eyes opened trying to call his name in a painful confusion of being taken from, Jon leaned over the bed back to you.

One hand pressing into the sheets, the other Jon cupped your cheek, turning you to look at him. Your lips parted like his, but bitten at as opposed to his shining with the remains of your taste. Your hand grasped at his wrist as the other held at his side but Jon lowered to your lips. Roughly capturing you in a kiss, he didn’t spare time to use his advantage to slip his tongue into your mouth. Running it along your own, sharing the pure taste you never gave another man but him in the same way he ran his tongue inside of you.

A muffled cry moaned into his mouth and Jon wrapped his other arm around your back, pressing you high to his chest as he shared your taste, never giving you air to breathe with his tongue selfishly deep in your mouth as he pleased.

A desperate whine left you, and only then did Jon part from your lips. Hooded, black eyes staring down at yours still not even yet fluttering open as you tried to kiss him again. Only briefly did Jon oblige, instead choosing to part ways before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Resting his to yours, he tried best he could to slip the hand at your cheek behind your head, somewhat running down the length of your hair as he waited until he knew the sudden sting would’ve eased.

Pulling back, Jon climbed up onto the bed, motioning you at the hips to help let him push you to lay back against them fully. “Come on.” Your hair splayed out against the pillows, Jon pulled each of your legs to hitch up against his hips, spread again wide for him as his cock brushed between your legs, a stuttered cry leaving you, only to be gently simmered by a chaste kiss as he leaned down.

Not moving, his cock teased resting heavy and hard against you, only to refuse to part from your kiss either. Softer then before, your arms wrapped around him. So close pressed to his chest Jon could swear he could feel your heart pounding.

Letting one hand slip down, Jon barley needed to even move before he was at the perfect angle. Before you even could grasp how close he was to doing so, Jon murmured your name as he ran his nose along yours before pressing his lips back to you. At the same instance, Jons cock sunk deep inside of you. Tight and soaking warm around his length, but you held such little resistance. You fit his cock perfectly, and Jon knew.

He didn’t need to ask to know, that no man who had felt this before him had it this perfect. You were made to fit his thick cock, not anyone elses. It was a wonder any man had ever made you cum before him, certainly not with this act alone. It was impossible. You were born to be filled by Jon. And he knew, you were born for him alone. No one else could slide this deep, hear you gasp their name so innocently despite how well you were taking his cock. No one else truly knew what it was like to feel the grasping of your hands in his hair begging his name with a desperate ask you didn’t even understand.

But he did. And it was a slow answer. Gentle he was sliding out, leaving almost nothing left before his kiss almost acted as something soothing. A promise not to worry, and obliging greatly as he slid back as deep as you could take him. Dragging along such a sensitive wall as you already clenched around him, Jon knew he had to be careful.

You’d cum so easily at this point, and he had to control himself. He needed to keep you from it, and he knew you’d try to listen if he told you so. Barley pulling from your lips, again Jons length slid almost completely from your warmth before filling you again, and a painfully slow pace he did it without ever thinking he’d pick it up. Rasping against your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, keeping you there with a hand cupping the hair at the back of your head, his other holding your thigh high against his hip to keep you wide open for him. “Need you to do something for me,”

Barley having managed to mutter his own words out, your hands grasped at his shoulders and into his curls as you couldn’t even get that much out. Moving as much as you could along with him, you nodded as words failed to leave you that were anything but cries of need.

Jon felt the weak desire overcome him, capturing you in another short but roughly urgent kiss before rasping against them with a command that was as strained as it was serious. “If you’re close, I need you to tell me and I need you to hold back, alright?” Jon couldn’t keep his mind straight at how you didn’t ask why, didn’t protest, just begged out in a whisper that you promised him and he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Leaving your hair, Jon reached the same hand up. Grasping roughly at the headboard above you, as his other hand all yanked your thigh up higher, letting him sink even deeper. It wasn’t any faster, but Jon found the strength in him to use the leverage, pulling slowly almost out of you before much more roughly did he pound back deeply. The sounds obscene, but yet here he could find it in himself not to care.

One after the other, did his hips slap against yours, the sound echoing in the room as the not so sturdy bed compared to his at home, freely banged against the wall sat behind it. Slam after slam, only it too was accompanied by growls and guttural grunts leaving Jon as each time made his blood boil. You were so tight around him, but so utterly soaked that were you not keeping his cock in a vice, he might have slipped out. But you clenched around him as if afraid of him leaving you.

Forehead pressed against yours before keeping that composure was too much. Falling just so slightly into your neck, Jon found no care in tearing right into the marks he had made earlier, gasps leaving you as your nails scratched into his scalp and a growl responded. His teeth marking you up more as he kept the slow but pounding pace that you could only make beautiful tiny sounds over and over compared to the more unhinged sounds leaving him as if a predator.

The faintest of voices left you, “I can’t, Jon please..I-”

He could read you begging to say you were sorry, only for Jon to ease up. Trusting you to keep your legs high and wide for him, Jon let his hand around your thigh go to cup your cheek. Pulling you to meet his lips as he slowed back down to nothing more then a grinding with no roughness to be found. His curls growing damp as your hair too was, sweat forming between you both from how warm and close he kept you, but Jon craved it all more. Muttering again them so you felt his every word against your lips still, Jon would interrupt himself to kiss you before continuing multiple times. “Just for tonight, darling. I know it’s a lot.”

Nodding, your arms wrapped desperately around him. Another kiss both deep yet needing, Jon pulled you to hide in his neck. Never picking back up, but the strain in the muscles of the arm against the headboard meant that it was so much easier to give such shallow thrusts so deep inside of you. He knew you could barley even move against him this slow, but it wasn’t about that. Jon didn’t need you to do as much work as him here, he didn’t want you too.

As long as you let him inside you, that was all he needed, he’d do everything else. Including breathe through gritted teeth in your ear, biting down against it as well trying to keep the thoughts at bay but he couldn’t stop. The wedding was one thing, the texts were another, his plans for the next day acted either as the best or worst encouragement of those thoughts. And it was rougher thrusts his cock slid so deep that he struggled to not say it.

He wanted to, he shouldn’t, and he couldn’t. Not here and now but the want to say it was painful to hold back. But he was going slow with you, he wanted to be careful with you. He never wanted to hurt you again, and yet this might make you think he was attempting to trap you with him. In a sense, maybe it was that. Maybe he did want to trap you with him, but out of fear. A fear that he’d lose the best thing in his life, the one thing he could love who loved him back.

Pulling back, Jon guided your lips to his once again as he let his thrusts pick up once more. The thought hit him and it was inevitable. You were clenching so tightly around him, he couldn’t hold back, but as long as he kept your kiss, he wouldn’t say it.

Biting down on your bottom lip, the moment you parted your lips for him did Jon glide his tongue along yours. Picking up the pace suddenly, Jon felt himself nearly snarling into the kiss as you clenched around him, whined into his mouth but never disobeyed, never let yourself finish despite knowing Jon was determined to find his end inside of you. The headboard again banged against the wall, your skin slapped loudly against his too as he could hear how soaking wet you were each time his cock pounded so deeply, each time he went faster.

Tearing from your lips, Jon hid his face in your hair, a deep groan finding him as he begged himself not to say it. You clenched so tightly around him for a moment Jon thought you couldn’t hold on any longer, but you somehow obeyed and it was that which ended his resolve one way or another. A rasping husk of a voice growling your name into your ear did Jons muscles tense, the hand on the headboard flying back down to grasp at your leg and keep you wide open for him.

Each rough thrust was followed by thick spurts of his seed spilling inside of you, deep as he could manage and your nails clawed into his shoulders and back to not let the feeling bring you along with him. Instead, Jons seed poured and poured, thick and warm never leaving you.

Jon didn’t bother pulling out of you, instead, grasping you carefully did Jon move you up with him as he sat back on this knees, keeping you perched close in his lap. Your hands grasped at his shoulders with a cry leaving you, but he ran his hand down your sweat filled hair murmuring your name with a strain. Your eyes were bright as if needing to shed tears at the feeling of having to hold back, but Jon knew you’d never disobey him. He had you and you trusted that.

Cupping the back of your head Jon moved you to meet his kiss once more. Slowly his other hand moved you up and down. Your brows furrowed now trying to keep up, but Jon left your hair and pulled back. Lips parted and swollen like yours, he looked at what little of you he could see keeping you pressed so painfully close.

Both hands at your hips, and he didn’t keep the slow pace again. If the sound of skin smacking against each other was obvious before it was even moreso now. Bouncing you roughly, and none to kind of a speed up and down his cock. You let him fill you so deeply this way, hands grasping from your hips to both capture your ass tightly as he managed the same leverage only now you moved with him. Hiding in his neck again your lips were sweet and kind against his neck just needing to feel him more in some way as he did you.

Maybe Robb was right, maybe Jon was treading down a dangerous path but he couldn’t conceive a reason to think it was to be done out of malice. It was love, a love he’s always felt for you and now knew you long since felt it back and he wasn’t going to waste it. He was determined to keep it, and Jon just had to be careful not to allow such thoughts like the darkness in his chest give any including his brother a reason to think Jon would hurt you, in one way or another.

Twice more Jon spilled inside of you, both times never once letting you leave his cock as he bounced you roughly the entire time. And one more when he tipped you back down against the bed, and the last was found in a slow grind as his lips refused to leave yours. And never once did you falter in his orders to not cum yourself. He’d make up for it, but right now, he needed that control.

If he controlled this, maybe Jon wouldn’t lose it, and control in the one way he was still trying to keep out of his mind. It didn’t help when you fell asleep in his arms, his cock still deep and half hard inside of you with your front tucked into his chest.

You didn’t have to worry, Jon wouldn’t do that to you. But it didn’t stop him from desperately wanting too, and it seemed, Robb knew and distrusted that want in Jon no matter how little you sensed it

Hardly any time was spent between getting your stuff all into the house, and Jon leaving again. Kissing your hair as he passed you by muttering he would be back in an hour, you didn’t have a clue where he went, but being gone for nearly three days you assumed he had things pile up to handle, and didn’t think much more of it. Instead, you carefully begun putting everything away.

Sam had spent the second day showing yourself, Jon, and Gilly around Horn Hill. It was a nice break, truly. The Reach was warmer then the North even on it’s warmest days up here, and it was with a nice breeze as rivers ran throughout the town as it did many in that area in general. Part of you had worried you’d make things awkward at first. You’d spent time with the three of them before, but never as someone who was dating Jon, and in some manner you convinced yourself much like you did a few nights ago at the Stark house, that meant you now were only intruding on his time.

Instead it was fun, a time to forget everything that happened up here and just feel a bit like a person again. Being able to have lunch out on a patio of whatever bistro it was Gilly picked out, enjoying the sun and no pressure of anything on your mind. Today had mostly been driving back, but that was fine with you. It still was time with Jon you treasured, but now you faced everything once again.

Still you did not know what the issue was, what was between the brothers and suddenly you felt a sweeping around you of guilt that you were indeed at the centre of it. Robb appeared at the door, not being noticed as your back was facing him putting the remainder first of Jons things away. If he did greet you, you assumed it would be warm and welcoming back as usual, yet it wasn’t at all.

Nor did the question make sense to you. “Did anything happen?”

Turning with half a startle, your brow raised in question and your tone stretched the words in a slight pedantic manner. “We watched two people get married?” Not grasping why his own face twisted downward, Robb pushed up off the frame he leaned against of the door and walked in a bit more casually. Trying to drop a tone you now both knew was there, leaving you to close Jons drawers to put his bag away in the closet as you spoke. “I didn’t get extremely drunk if that’s what you were alluding too.”

Now hauling your own bag up onto the bed, you begun unpacking your stuff as Robb was now the one who was confused, or more accurately, he now shared your confusion. “That’s not- you’re allowed to get drunk at a wedding.” Muttering to yourself a bit childishly you only mentioned that you didn’t know what else he was expecting to happen. And not to your knowledge, but Robb stood a bit hesitant now to bring it up when you didn’t even guess what he had meant, or that you were supposed to be paying attention to something to mean in the first place.

“We have a fun time, Robb. Nothing to worry about.”

Trying to placate him, but not noting his narrowed eyes before covering them up as he walked beside you, grabbing at some of your things and putting them where he seemed to guess correctly their new spot would be in Jons room. Tone even, but a bit stilted as if holding back the frustration he walked in with. “Jon didn’t do anything?” It was a pure jest, the quick manner you joked in asking if he what, ran away with you to elope, but when you met his gaze Robb only tilted his head asking you to be serious.

Glancing away with a bit of nerves, you stammered in trying to maintain an air of normalcy that felt like it didn’t exist half the time with Robb anymore. “I don’t know what you’re worried happened, or even why, but nothing happened. We went to a wedding, we spent the day with friends, we drove home.” Meeting his gaze again with something bright yet soft hoping to get that through his curly haired head, “There’s nothing to worry about. Or to even think you would need to be worried. I didn’t get too drunk or anything.”

Head jolting back a little, Robb gave you a questioning look. “Why do you keep-”

You didn’t mean to raise your voice, it came out that way on an instant as you dropped the clothes in your hand to look at him. “Because you’ve been mad at him, or me or both of us ever since you picked me up from the bar that night.” Trying to run a gentle hand comfortingly down your hair as he insisted he wasn’t mad at you, you flinched away with something stinging behind your unpleasantly warming face. “If you’re not mad at me, you’re mad at Jon because of me. I’m sorry I got so drunk you had to pick me up, and I’m sorry you had to put up with me when everything with Daenerys was happening, but I don’t want you taking it out on Jon. He didn’t do anything wrong, and whatever you think he did he made up for it.”

It slipped out, you could tell it slipped out when his eyes closed with an exhaustive look on his face the moment the words were out there. “By what? Just fucking you more now, then you were afraid he was fucking her?”

Silence sat between you in the room. That warmth turned something unpleasant now felt even worse and the sting in your eyes felt as if you were about to let tears form. Instead your face steeled in it’s expression, snatching what was in Robbs hands and turning away from him as he called your name. “You can leave.” Once again, you felt the genuinity in his voice trying to apologize for what he clearly said in an unnecessary malice, but that didn’t make you feel any better. There was little chance Robb didn’t sense the waver in your voice as if trying to smother back any tears. “I don’t need you making me feel guilty for-”

It was too awkward for you to say, but you both knew what you meant. You didn’t need Robb of all people, someone who both deeply cared about you but you deeply cared for, making you feel ashamed for having a healthy sex life with your own boyfriend. You didn’t want to make this problem between them any worse then you already were. A hand ran over your back and you hated that Robb was so good at being instantly comforting as he said your name.

But you shrugged it off, now both of you fully aware you were trying not to cry. “I don’t understand what I did to cause all these problems, but if me being here is making it worse-” Robb tried getting you to face him, but you pulled from his touch, roughly jumping back into your point. “Just tell me if it would be better if I moved out.”

Robb didn’t say a word, nor did you see his heartbroken expression that you had taken his ire towards Jon so much more personally then he ever imagined you would. Maybe it was easy for you to blame yourself for what happened with Jon if you so quickly jumped to the conclusion that you were the issue between him and his brother. But none of that registered in your mind.

Though, he chose the better route, changing his mind as he tried to speak before cutting himself off. “I don’t want you to move out, love. Jon and I are dealing with something and I’m so sorry you feel like I’ve been taking it out on you.” Your eyes flickered to the side, not one to say things he didn’t mean in such a warm tone, you nodded. “I don’t want you to be upset, I went all the way to White Harbour to get fresh seafood so I could add them to dinner. Since you were coming home today.”

A small smile left you, and a little shrug at your shoulder with a far less enthusiastic but still meaning tone in a playfulness. “You went all the way out there?” Robb nodded, as if you could see if, but still you sensed it. “Why?”

That time you didn’t flinch when he ran a hand along your upper back. “You’ve made dinner nearly every night the past few weeks, I wanted to do something nice for you back.” Muttering a quiet thank you, Robb knew at least when to let a situation simmer out. “I’ll leave you be. Do you know when Jons back?” Guessing in about an hour, you finally looked at him, but your not so well hidden rattled expression was met by a more apologetic one from Robb as your face asked why. “So I can time it, I’m not trying to leave him out of things.”

He tried to reassure you, you’d give him that, but of what you still didn’t really know. You could only guess but you nodded as he left you be. Barley home for less then an hour and already you caused a problem.

Trying to go back to putting your things away, it was as if your hands were stuck as they finally went to handle the dress. Looking it over, your mind was caught on a memory. The way Jons face looked as you paid for it at the counter, how much even then you knew he looked as if he were desperate to let him buy it for you despite the fancy price tag. He had more money then you, he and his family always did, but you didn’t want to feel as if you were trying to get more from him then you already had at that point.

But it was something held back that now you knew was something much more soft and affectionate in him wanting to do something for you out of those feelings, but not wanting to step on your toes or be obvious about it. It felt similar as you looked to the now half closed door Robb left from. Like he was holding something back from you, but this time, you couldn’t grasp what that could be, or why you had caused him to take it out on Jon of all people.

By the time you were finished, did Ghost come trotting into the room nearly knocking you over to greet you. Which was just who you needed, picking up quickly that you seemed upset, you sat up on the bed as Ghost joined. Laying his head in your lap as you scratched along his ears before slowly letting your eyes droop.

You fell asleep without even realizing it, only to awake to a warm hand running through your hair and a gentle rasp to lull you awake in the most peaceful sounding manner your dreamless mind could’ve come up with, Ghost still cuddled into you as he chose to nap along with you. “Robb has dinner ready.” Before you had the chance to push up on your palms, Jon ran his hand more smoothly along the side of your head with a firmer touch as it prompting you not to rush. “Do you want me to bring you a plate here?”

Peeking up at him, part of your mind recalled the way Robb tried assuring you that everything was fine, in a manner of speaking and that it wasn’t your fault, but nor did you want to test that. If it wasn't your fault, their rift wouldn’t have started with a night you were the problem. And Jon bringing you food Robb went out of his way to make for you, while staying in the quiet and calm of Jons room sounded more comforting while you were still upset, you didn’t think it would help.

Instead you shook your head as Ghost too perked up to jump off the bed with you. “If you let me stay here, I’ll just fall right back asleep.” Grabbing both your hands to help you up, before letting go to guide you by your waist down onto both feet, Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead that lingered, muttering that coming home to you and Ghost napping together almost made him feel bad enough he didn’t want to wake you in the first place. Your smile was soft as he pulled you into his side, supporting you until you shook off the sleep the way Ghost could in seconds as he shook his head and fur out before darting out the door. “Did you get whatever you needed done?”

Jon nodded, a warm hand still running up and down your arm as he led you out, firmly enough you felt his touch even through the thicker sweater you wore. His voice rasped low in your ear as if still easing you out of sleep. “Had to drop something off is all, I’m still yours for the evening.”

It came out in tone as a joke, but it was said with a smile softer speaking then just that. “Hopefully for more then just the evening I hope. Or did seeing people get married make you think twice about us?”

Jon slid his hand down from your arm to your waist, a light pinch pulling a louder laughing protest from you, and a handsome but lovingly mischievous smile from you. At least you knew Jon well enough to know that was a firm no in his language.

Though the laugh in you didn’t last that long when as you expected, Robbs eyes met yours when you walked in, glanced to Jon, and got just the slightest bit less warm again. And once more, did you recall the bubble of peace you felt the past three days were nothing but a distraction from the truth that Jon and now Robb too were lying to you about.

The problem between them was you, without a shadow of a doubt.

Looking up to sky, Jon sighed deeply. The stars were bright that night, few clouds if any were there to block the view of the night as he sat there. Hand running over Ghost who sat by him as his head lay on Jons lap. Glancing next to the house, only some windows had any lights on and two of which were his room and that halls side of the bathroom where you no doubt were still showering.

His eyes darted in the darkness but found no one to interrupt, and no one to watch. Another sigh left before Jon shifted. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through one picture then the next in what he screenshotted before hovering over the screen with his thumb. Tempted to delete the evidence, it was the only logical course. He had been secretive about it from minute one, and he had left as soon as he got you back just to hide it where it wouldn’t be found anywhere near the house.

Sam had mentioned that when they were in Horn Hill, there was an old jeweller he wanted to visit. A gift for Gilly he had in mind, a necklace with her favourite animal on it since she never owned anything like that before. Jon had looked it up and his eyes had been drawn to one section of their website, and before he knew it, he was making notes on his phone to screenshot and keep for later.

That day after the wedding, Sam had gotten you to distract Gilly with something so he and Jon had an excuse to head over without fuss so he could buy it. But as Jon stood there, Sam discussing something with one of the workers, Jons eyes kept getting drawn to one section. Arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the more sturdy edge of the glass case, his brows narrowed trying not to think about it.

But, then he pulled his phone out to send you a message on how much longer he and Sam would be. He didn’t even look at the screenshots, just saw the icon of his gallery on top of his home screen. Like his lock screen was he and you, his home screen was you and Ghost. It was all he needed. His phone put back in his pocket, Jon managed to stand there for another ten minutes before he broke.

Muttering to Sam he’d be right back, Jon swiftly made his way to the other side of the store. A completely different attendant behind the counter, whom seemed quite ready to make a display of his wares. A section of far, far more expensive things was over on that side but Jon gave the man pretty much no time to make any pitch. He had the screenshot, he knew what he was looking for and he saw it right away.

Interrupting his greeting with a low, discreet rasp Jon just pointed down into the glass display to a very specific item. Only muttering that he needed that one in a specific size, and by the time his head raised to meet his expression the poor attendant was clearly taken aback by Jons blunt and curt demeanour. But, he did so swiftly. The right size acquired, before he could even ask if Jon wanted it properly displayed in one of their custom jewellers boxes, Jon shook his head. Saying he’d take it directly before paying what was far more money then most would for that sort of thing.

The attendant was grateful, no doubt working on commission and the amount of gold Jon handed over meant he would get a hefty sum of it. But seemed somewhat off put by him, and none too happy Jon stuck it in his pocket with nothing to protect it. Jon didn’t care about the fanciness of it all, he needed one thing and that was it.

By the time he made it back to Sam, Jon didn’t judge him for agreeing to that very sort of packaging for the necklace. Gilly had come from very little growing up and wasn’t used to this sort of luxury, and Jon didn’t blame Sam for wanting to spoil her. Noticing a smaller necklace that matched he gestured to it with something bright and knowing, “Whats that one?”

Sam looked abashed, but Jon much like Sam had felt for his situation, couldn’t be happier about it. “It’s for little Sam. I thought if his mother was getting something, he might feel left out.”

Jon managed a genuine laugh, trying to ignore how suddenly something that didn’t even weigh half of an ounce, suddenly was so noticeable in his pocket it felt like it was full of chunks of steel. “Careful with that.” Sam looking to him in question as Jon tilted his head in am amused expression. “I have five brothers and sisters, Sam. You start feeling like you need to always get one of them something extra then everyone else wants something extra too.”

He picked well, and Jon assured him Gilly would love it before the two headed out into the street to find you both, and settle on a place to eat.

Now though, in the settled cool night air did Jon sit in a clearing in the area before the wolfswood beyond him with Ghost. Looking through those very screenshots he took before sighing deeply, deleting one then the other and any note or tab associated with it. He had it, it was his, he didn’t need the evidence on his phone to linger.

Jon had drove all the way to his station at the Wall, the top drawer where some of his most precious reminders for his rougher days were kept, including two of his favourite pictures of he and you, and he kept it there. Locking it before leaving once more just to be sure no one would find it as it sat right atop a photo where you sat. Some of the others questioned what that was about, but no one saw really.

And you never asked him when he got back what he did. And he never hinted at it. Jon had not a single clue when he would do anything about it, but at least now it was there. Ready when he was, or, Jon knew he was ready. More it was ready when he hoped you were. Jon could drag you out there with him right now and be more then ready, but he needed you to be at that point and not a moment before.

Maybe too he could focus on that. If he kept it at his work desk, he would focus on that and not the other thoughts. He could keep them at bay until he sorted things out, made sure you were ready for any of that, found some miracle to fix things with Robb before he’d do any of that. Just now with a physical motivation to push him to figure all of that out.

But then it would itch at his mind. Jon sighed deeply again, letting a hand run down his face with a frustration at how much he couldn’t make it go away. The guilt didn’t mean it didn’t run through the worst parts of Jons head. That the worries Robb had about what Jon would do weren’t entirely unfounded, since he was thinking of them. He’d never act on it, but it all kept compounding making his thoughts about you more and more intense, more obsessive over the matter.

Jon was fully aware how much his thoughts were rushing into this, but as much as he could prevent himself from acting on it, he could not stop thinking about it. But that was why he bought it. Obsess over one to avoid wanting to do something about the other. As long as Jon kept the engagement ring a secret, just maybe that could take his obsession away from the thoughts clawing at his mind.

About how much Jon truly and desperately couldn’t stop thinking about getting you pregnant.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

He was recording Backgrid on their night out. Do you think he's going to use that in his court case against the Home Office and demand IPP status + around the clock protection outside the UK coz the camera flashes make his heart go thump thump?

I am not a lawyer but I don’t think the British court would accept the argument that he’s being harassed in the US because he doesn’t have British security. Ruling on the behavior of US citizens isn’t something that a British court can do.

It feels a little like Harry’s planning or prepping to sue Backgrid or the American tabloids for their harassment. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did and frankly, I kinda hope he does, because that’s probably the fastest way to expose that the call is coming from inside the house.

But mostly I think Harry films the paps as a PTSD response to Diana, and it’s got nothing to do with cameras flashing. We know that Harry still firmly and resolutely believes that the paparazzi killed Diana and that he doesn’t understand how the everyone else (especially William) believes it was a drunk driver and not wearing a seatbelt that killed her. He probably feels like he’s screaming into the void and no one’s hearing him except Meghan. Next, consider the NYC trip. Harry and Meghan said they were being chased by paparazzi and claimed their lives were in danger. Very few people believed them, more people mocked them, and the rest of us just didn’t care.

So here’s a guy absolutely convinced the paparazzi killed his mother who claimed that the paparazzi had tried to harm him and his wife, and instead of being outraged, the public and his mother’s surviving family didn’t care. He’s so fed up with no one believing how dangerous the paparazzi are that he’s now on some quixotic quest to expose them, and he does that by recording them so that when they try to harm him again (and he believes it’s inevitable they will), he has the footage to prove that they’re as dangerous as he’s been saying all along and he gets to return to Britain as the princely hero who finally avenged his mother’s death.

[lunar-wandering]

laying in bed thinking about how Wukong is a people pleaser and this part of him gets frequently overlooked due to the focus on his hot-headedness/impulsivity

[keelanrosa]

started reading the cass review because i'm apparently just Like That and i want everybody crowing about how this proves sooooo much about how terfs are right and trans people are wrong to like. take a scientific literacy class or something. or even just read the occasional study besides the one you're currently trying to prove a point with. not even necessarily pro-trans studies just learn how to know what studies actually found as opposed to what people trying to spoonfeed you an agenda claim they found.

to use just one infuriating example:

Several studies from that period (Green et al., 1987; Zucker, 1985) suggested that in a minority (approximately 15%) of pre-pubertal children presenting with gender incongruence, this persisted into adulthood. The majority of these children became same-sex attracted, cisgender adults. These early studies were criticised on the basis that not all the children had a formal diagnosis of gender incongruence or gender dysphoria, but a review of the literature (Ristori & Steensma, 2016) noted that later studies (Drummond et al., 2008; Steensma & Cohen-Kettenis, 2015; Wallien et al., 2008) also found persistence rates of 10-33% in cohorts who had met formal diagnostic criteria at initial assessment, and had longer follow-up periods.

if you recognize the names Zucker and Steensma you are probably already going feral but tldr:

There are… many problems with Zucker's studies, "not all children had a formal diagnosis" is so far down the list this is literally the first i've heard of it. The closest i usually hear is the old DSM criteria for gender identity disorder was totally different from the current DSM criteria for gender dysphoria and/or how most people currently define "transgender"; notably it did not require the patient to identify as a different gender and overall better fits what we currently call "gender-non-comforming". Whether the kids had a formal diagnosis of "maybe trans, maybe just has different hobbies than expected, but either way their parents want them back in their neat little societal boxes" is absolutely not the main issue. This would be a problem even if Zucker was pro-trans (spoiler: He Is Not, and people who are immediately suspicious of pro-trans studies because "they're probably funded by big pharma or someone else who profits from transitioning" should apply at least a little of that suspicion to the guy who made a living running a conversion clinic); sometimes "formal" criteria change as we learn more about what's common, what's uncommon, what's uncommon but irrelevant, etc, and when the criteria changes drastically enough it doesn't make sense to pretend the old studies perfectly apply to the new criteria. If you found a study defining "sex" specifically and exclusively as penetration with a dick which says gay men have as much sex as straight men but lesbians don't, it's not necessarily wrong as far as it goes but if THAT'S your prime citation for "gay men have more sex than lesbians", especially if you keep trying to apply it in contexts which obviously use a broader definition, there are gonna be a lot of people disagreeing with you and it won't be because they're stubbornly unscientific.

Also Zucker is pro conversion therapy. Yes, pro converting trans people to cis people, but also pro converting gay people to straight people. That doesn't necessarily affect his results, i just find it funny how many people enthusiastically support his findings as evidence transitioning is… basically anti-gay conversion therapy? (even though plenty of trans people transition to gay? including T4T people so even the "that's actually just how straight people try to get with gay people" rationale for gay trans people is incredibly weak? and also HRT has a relatively low but non-zero chance of changing sexual orientation so it wouldn't even be reliable as a means of "becoming straight"? but a guy who couldn't reliably tell the difference between a tomboy and a trans boy figured out the former is more common than the latter + in one whole country where being trans is legal but being gay is not, sometimes cis gay people transition, so OBVIOUSLY that means sexism and homophobia are the driving factors even in countries with significant transphobia. or something.) anyway i hope zucker knows and hates how many gay people and allies are using his own study to trash-talk any attempts to be Less Gay. ideally nobody would take his nonsense seriously at all but it doesn't seem we'll be spared from that any time soon so i will take my schadenfreude where i can.

Steensma's studies have the exact same problem re: irrelevant criteria so "well someone ELSE had the same results!" is not exactly convincing. This is not "oh trans people are refusing to pay attention to these studies because they disagree with them regardless of scientific rigor", it's "one biased guy using outdated criteria found exactly the numbers everyone would expect based on that criteria, i can't imagine why trans people are treating those numbers as relevant to the past criteria but not present definitions, let's find a SECOND guy using outdated criteria. Why do people keep saying the outdated criteria is not relevant to the current state of trans healthcare. Don't we all know it's quantity over quality with scientific studies. (Please don't ask what the quantity of studies disagreeing with me is.)"

Steensma also counted patients as 'not persisting as transgender' if they ghosted him on follow-up which counted for a third of his study's "detransitioners" and a fifth of the total subjects and. look. i'm not saying none of them detransitioned, or assuming they all didn't would be notably more accurate, but i think we can safely treat twenty percent of subjects as a bit high for making a default assumption, especially when some of them might have simply not been interested in a study on whether or not they still know who they are. Fuck knows i've seen pro-trans studies which didn't make assumptions about the people who didn't respond still get prodded by anti-trans people insisting "the number of people claiming they don't regret transitioning can't possibly be so high, some of the people who responded must have been lying. (Scientific rigor means thinking studies which disagree with me are wrong even if the only explanation is the subjects lying and studies which agree with me are right even if we need to make assumptions about a lot of subjects to get there.)"

and this is not new information. not the issues with zucker, not the issues with steensma, not any of the issues because this is not a new study, it's a review of older studies, which in itself doesn't mean "bad" or "useless" -- sometimes that allows connecting some previously-unconnected dots -- but the idea this is going to absolutely blow apart the Woke Media, vindicate Rowling and Lineham, and "save" ""gay"" children from """being forcibly transed""" is bullshit. At most it'll get dragged around and eagerly cited by all the people looking for anything vaguely scientific-sounding to justify their beliefs, and maybe even people who only read headlines and sound bites will buy it, but the people who really believe it will be people who already agreed with all its "findings" and have already been dragging around the existing studies and are just excited to have a shiny new citation for it.

the response from people who've been really reading research on transgender people all along is going to be more along the lines of "……yeah. yeah, i already knew about that. do you need a three-page essay on why i don't think it means what you think it means? because i don't have time for that homework right now but maybe i can pencil it in for next semester if you haven't learned how to check your own sources by then."

[charliespringverse]

... it's just hit me that lister describes the bathroom kiss as assault and even when jimmy reassures him that he doesn't see it that way and doesn't have a problem with it, lister refuses to accept that it was anything other than objectively assault

while two days earlier jimmy insisted that a 32-yr-old having sex with lister at age 16 was wrong, despite lister not seeing it that way and not having a problem with it

does that mean that lister took that conversation on board but only as far as "the person on the receiving end of an advance can't accurately assess whether or not it was wrong" and is now equating himself to the woman that took advantage of him . because i will weep

[skrunksthatwunk]

last minute pre-grandparent-visit room deep cleaning has revealed that within the drawer i tend to assume just has old, off generic birthday cards and theater/concert programs there are also many, many going away cards and letters and things from the last couple of times i moved away. i guess i always thought of it as such a lonely thing, and i talk a lot about how i don't think i made Real friends until recently, and not to get choked up on main or anything but i think maybe i was completely fucking wrong

[nyankoizumi]

victim fans stay away I’ve done ATROCITIES to their character /j

[razzle-zazzle]

yanno what, ill bite. tell me more about ninjastuck

Eli if this is you enabling me--

anyway 💅 thinking about Soulsong and Lilly... yeah Soulsong's an Alternia-raised troll who was conscripted as a subjugglator but like. It's Lou guys. Even as a troll he's more of an artist than a fighter. Still working out whether the trolls came to Ninjago as an invasion the First Master stopped or if it was a migratory movement done by a group looking to break away from the empire, because both could be very interesting for Soulsong. Either he's one of the warriors who's not really into it and befriends the then master of earth OR he's one of the sympathetic helping to organize the migration. Regardless, Soulsong has seen Alternia, but has lived in Ninjago for longer.

And Lilly's father fought on the side of the Serpentine, of course Lilly's gonna be sympathetic to the trolls! And Soulsong knew he'd outlive her, but--she's an elemental master, so their time together would be much longer than the average ninjagoan. Soulsong was happy to risk that future heartbreak, because he loved Lilly enough to be worth it--

Which only makes it hurt that much more when it was all cut short by illness.

[tonycries]

FIVE! - C.K.

Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.

4:37PM.

“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”

And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”

Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you. 

He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table. 

But that doesn’t mean he’ll-

“Babies.”

“Huh?”

“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”

Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”

All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.

At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”

Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too. 

Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?

Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”

Right.

Of course.

Oh god, he thinks he could faint. 

Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”

Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight. 

“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”

“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again. 

You notice - of course, you do. 

Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way. 

He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”

And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.

---

7:16PM.

Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.

“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”

“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”

He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”

You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”

Slam!

“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!” 

If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos. 

“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out. 

“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”

Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”

“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”

And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”

“And?”

“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”

Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.

And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.

He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”

He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”

Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head. 

And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”

“AW, MAN.”

Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso. 

Mom? 

So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst. 

“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”

The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt. 

So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”

Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”

---

9:02PM.

“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”

You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?

“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page. 

“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-” 

“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”

That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”

Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”

Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”

Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”

“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”

Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”

“Gramps-”

“Says who?”

“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”

“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”

And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”

The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.

Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better. 

You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly. 

All five of them, huh?

---

9:37PM. 

SLAM!

“Cho, why’d you-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with. 

“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake. 

This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”

And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”

Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy. 

“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.

“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”

You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers. 

“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”

Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.” 

You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”

The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity. 

And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-

“Fuck!”

And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering. 

Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”

But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe. 

“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”

He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose. 

You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”

And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.

“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. Five. 

You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.

The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”

You did. How could you not?

You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”

“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”

As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-

“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”

And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching. 

But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder. 

“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-” 

“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum. 

And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high. 

“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”

That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch. 

“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”

And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”

Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.” 

And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue. 

“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”

Fuck- 

You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins. 

Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”

You broke him. You were sure you broke him. 

The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate. 

All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-

“F-fuck-”

“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”

Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.

From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”

Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-

“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”

Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”

And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”

If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.

Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut. 

It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”

Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass. 

It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course. 

“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock. 

“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”

You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.

He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-

“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”

Found it.

“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”

All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and- 

And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago. 

Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more- 

“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”

Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?” 

You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”

And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”

“As- fuck-”

“Mhm?”

“As many as you want- hngh-”

That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.

This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so. 

Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.

The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.

“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-

Again. He was speeding his hips up again. 

Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.

This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick. 

Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.

“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”

---

“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”

The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”

Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”

Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”

“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“

Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”

“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”

Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”

“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”

The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.

Oh. 

Wow. Five…really?!

“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”

A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[empresskylo]

ghost knows he’s too rough and impatient with sex. knows he won’t know how to please you properly. knows he can’t possibly do things right with you, knowing you’ve never done this before. but god, he wants to. he wants to treat you how you deserve. never thought he’d be so desperate to fuck someone good and slow like he does with you.

so he goes to price. the one man who will know all the right ways to please a lady properly. asks him to show him how to take care of you. tells him he doesn't know how to care for someone else's needs, at least with someone inexperienced like you. tells him he needs to be instructed. to see just how he should work you.

you’re nervous at first, thinking it’s an absolutely insane idea, but you can’t hide the wetness along your panties as you sit on ghost’s lap, back pressed against his chest, legs spread, his knuckle dragging down your warmth. price sits back in his chair, telling ghost exactly how to move his fingers, paying close attention to your body's minuscule movements, the way your brows furrow when ghost moves a certain way, or your eyelashes fluttering.

and this was supposed to be a strictly hands-off approach… but god, watching ghost fumble, unable to maintain the slow speed you need, keeping you from reaching your orgasm, has price on edge. he leans forward, rolling his chair with him, and tells ghost to stop. tells him to watch and to pay close attention. price tears your panties off and your eyes go wide at the contact. you swallow, expecting ghost to be furious, but his hands only settle around you and he takes notes as he watches his captain work.

price runs his thumb up your slit, circling your nub, and tells ghost to hold your thighs apart when you unconsciously try to clench them. then his finger is sinking into you and your head falls back against ghost's chest, eyes shut. you moan and you feel ghost harden beneath you. “how’s that feel, sweetheart?” price asks you. you babble out incoherently, price adding a second finger, and chuckling darkly at your response.

it becomes too much, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his other hand rubbing your clit, ghost's fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he forces them apart. “ohmygod,” you slur, “m’gonna—“ price smirks, his eyes darkening as he watches you orgasm, your body clenching around his fingers shoved deep in your heat. "talk her through it," price tells ghost. so ghost does. you're shaking still and ghost rubs his hands over your exposed skin. "that's it, baby. you're doin' s'good," he praises.

"whata fuckin' sight," price mumbles to himself, his fingers leaving you empty. you steady your breathing, coming down from your high, completely limp in ghost's arms. price can see the way ghost's eyes have gone dark, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. knows ghost doesn't know how to be soft. sees the feral need to ram himself into you overtaking his features. "gonna take it slow with her, yeah?" price asks.

ghost breathes rapidly out, his hips begging to buck up against you. he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself if you let him fuck you. so he answers honestly. "not sure I'd be able to."

price tsks, sitting back in thought, his eyes roving over your spent body. you suddenly feel shy, wanting to close your legs, but ghost's arms tighten on you. "need me t'break her in?" price finally asks after several long beats of silence.

ghost grinds up against you, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling your head to the side so he can kiss your neck. your eyes flutter at his attempts to be so delicate with you. "want the captain here to be your first time, love?" ghost asks against your skin. you stutter when you answer. "don't you want to be?" "course I do. but I won't go easy on ya. I'd hate to ruin you, sweet girl. price will take it nice n' slow. just like you need." and after, you'll be ready to take ghost. ready to adjust to his size.

you swallow hard, ghost's hands escaping and clawing at your clothed chest. you nod. "o-okay."

price stands from his chair and begins to undo his belt. "come sit on my desk, sweetheart."

cod masterlist

[ghostsangel]

your new neighbor has taken a liking to you

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

tags/warnings: mdni, infidelity (ghost’s marriage sucks), size kink, breeding , unprotected sex, degradation/dumbification, squirting, corruption kink if you squint

Simon is in a loveless marriage.

It’s sad—he knows that. Ever since he got back from deployment, things with his wife weren’t the same. She would stay at work late, come home smelling of someone else’s cologne, trying to hide her swollen lips.

Military service took a toll on him. The torture, the abuse, the loss of life—sometimes it was too much for him to bear. His wife didn’t understand, and he certainly couldn’t talk to her about it. She was too busy being fucked by other men to speak to him anyway. So, he kept his trauma close to his chest.

Then he met you.

You moved in next to him while he was away. When he left for service, the house was empty—vines withering up the creaky wood, yard overgrown and barren. As soon as he drove into his front yard, he knew that changed.

The house was fixed up, vines trimmed. A new coat of paint covered the old wood and made it look new. A hammock hung between two large trees in the yard. And one other thing was different.

Flowers. They were everywhere in your yard. Rose bushes, lavender, tulips, sunflowers—the yard was a rainbow of color. Simon could smell them from his front yard when he went outside to smoke or to get away from the confines of his house.

It wasn’t until he was smoking one afternoon that he saw you. Fresh-faced and young, gloved hands trimming back your rose bushes. It took him a while to say hi, but he did eventually. You were everything his wife wasn’t—kind, bubbly, thoughtful…innocent.

He found himself in your front yard more than he was at home, offering to help you trim your flowers or plant new ones. He was always filling the heavy watering can and watering for you—“I got all this muscle, sweetheart, let me use it for somethin’.”

Simon wasn’t sure when he began spilling his trauma, but one day, he sat on your couch with a glass of lemonade telling you about the war. The torture, the loss of his military brethren—everything. He told you about his past and his present, about his failing marriage; and most importantly, that he trusted you.

The first intimate actions were small. A brush of a hand, a squeeze of a thigh. Lips brushed against an ear. Small actions that made your tummy clench and his face grow hot. Eventually, it led to something more. Soft kisses on tender lips, hands running over scarred skin and muscle, strong arms wrapped around you.

And tonight, you kissed him with a hunger he couldn’t ignore anymore. Your tongue swiped so slowly along his that his knees buckled and his heart slammed against his chest. His fingers gripped your ass so tightly, you thought it would bruise, but it sent heat to your core all the same.

That’s how you find yourself now—on your back in your bed, sheets sprawled around you and Simon eating you like a man starved. His tongue flicks so deliciously against your clit that it makes your toes curl and your grip tighten in his hair.

“Simon,” you whine, hips bucking as he sucks hard on the sensitive nerves. His response is a grunt, his middle and ring finger gathering your juices and teasing your tight entrance.

Your breath stills when he pushes his two thick fingers inside of your pussy, back arching and hips drawing back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon mutters against your clit, tugging your hips down with his other hand and curling his fingers inside of your wanting cunt.

All you can do is whine as his fingers scissor and stretch your squelching pussy, juices dripping down to your ass. His tongue rubs circles around your clit like he’s painting a fucking picture, and you can’t help but moan out at the pleasure. His fingers hit that spongy spot that sends an electric jolt to your toes, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure.

“S-Simon, I can’t—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence, your voice breaking off in a moan as he speeds up.

And then you’re coming, babbling nonsense and his name like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You don’t even comprehend that you squirt all over his hand and mouth, or that he’s rutting his hips against the bed and moaning into your cunt as he tastes you.

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his hands running up to your waist. Your eyes flutter open—when did they shut?—and you look up at him staring down at you, his lips curled into a smirk.

“Such a nasty fucking girl,” he murmurs as he leans down, teeth grazing across your neck. “Squirting for me like that. Gonna do that on my cock, too, sweetheart?”

All you can do is moan in response, and Simon chuckles before pulling back and tugging down his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take in his fat cock—thick and veiny and leaking precum. He holds eye contact with you as he moves to hover over you, rubbing his tip along your soaked folds.

You squirm and whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Simon grins, positioning his tip against your throbbing hole. “Gonna make it fit.”

Your lips part as he slowly slides his fat cock inside you, stretching you out in such a painfully delicious way that you almost forget to breathe. You can feel every vein in his cock, and Simon lets out a guttural groan when he sheathes himself fully inside you.

“Relax, doll. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight and I haven’t even moved.” His voice is strained, and he lets out a breath as you try to relax.

His hand moves to your throat, squeezing slightly as he begins to move. Slow at first—painfully slow. You hold eye contact with him as he slowly ruts his hips against yours, his lips parted as breathy groans slip past. When you start to whimper and moan, he speeds up, his pace becoming almost animalistic in nature.

The tip of his fat cock hits a spot that makes you see stars, and you let out a soft cry as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It feels so good, and you drag your nails down his chest because you don’t know what else to do.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” He asks, grip tight on your throat. “You like my cock stretchin’ you out?”

You can’t even answer him, responding with whines and moans, tears sliding down your cheeks from the pleasure. Simon smirks, fucking you faster, and you cry out.

“Didn’t think I’d fuck you dumb, sweetheart. Can’t help it can you? Cock makin’ you stupid?”

You whine out, hiccuping out a moan as his other hand moves to your clit to rub in precise circles. Your eyes glaze over and you’re gone—submitting completely to him as he fucks you with his fat cock.

Your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, stealing the breath from your lungs as your legs shake. Simon grunts and groans as you come on his cock, throbbing so tightly around him that you almost force him out. He simply fucks you harder, pressing against your cervix as your juices gush out of your cunt and you whine out, hips jolting.

Simon moves his fingers from your clit to your face, wiping your tears away and leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is hot and surprisingly sweet, and when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Good fuckin’ girl. My girl. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up so good, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his arm hooking through your leg to open you up wider. His hips slap against yours, his breathy moans hitting your skin softly.

“Please, Simon,” you breathe out, voice catching as he fucks into you. “Need it. Please.”

That’s all it takes for Simon to crumble, moaning out curses and your name as his cock throbs inside of you. He gives one, two, three more thrusts before he buries his fat cock inside you, tip against your cervix, and you can feel his hot seed pumping inside of you.

He thrusts lazily for a moment before sliding out of you, pulling you to his chest. Your lips meet in a sweet, lazy kiss, and you feel his cum dripping out of you. Simon’s fingers trace down your back, and he looks at you so delicately, he’s afraid you might break. His hand moves to cup your face, thumb brushing right underneath your eyes. Then he utters four words that make your heart stop.

“I’m getting a divorce.”

—————————————

see this one shot’s counterpart here

[alagaisia]

Stumbled on a weird website for a work thing. With no other context, what is your response when you hear this phrase:

Context: this is a phrase used by the organization that founded March 18th as “Global Recycling Day”, on a page introducing their position that recycling/recycled materials should be thought of as the Seventh Natural Resource.

The six natural resources that they claim “we” tend to think of as the most important are: water, air, oil, natural gas, coal, and minerals.