#and then they tell him to show more emotion and express himself more but when he does

[ssa-dado]

6 - Synthesis

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, slow burn

Summary: After an intense case, you and Hotch struggle with unresolved tensions from a previous argument. On the train back, Hotch overhears Peter comforting you about a recent tragedy, realizing he’s been blind to your pain. Later, Hotch unexpectedly shows up at your apartment, opening up and apologizing for his emotional distance, leading to a heartfelt moment of mutual vulnerability. That evening, you attend Peter’s welcome-back party, feeling lighter and reconnecting with the team. That's when Peter makes an unusual bet with you.

Warnings: death, grief, emotional abuse, domestic violence, family dysfunction.

Word Count: 7.6k

Dado's Corner: Phi posting two chapters in less than 12 hours? More likely than you think. I was supposed to wait until tomorrow, but I just couldn’t help myself. Thank you all so much for the love and support you’ve shown for the series so far! Each of you holds a special place in my cold little heart. Please don’t hate me after this - it hurts me, too - but hey, there’s some interrogation room Aaron to sweeten things up. I’m particularly proud of this cute, lovely chapter. It doesn’t make me want to jump out the window. Not even a little bit. Embrace the pain.

previous part ; masterlist

Gideon smiled knowingly, his eyes shifting between you and Hotch. “Thesis, antithesis, and synthesis,” he mused, almost as if he were speaking to himself but loud enough for you to hear. “Funny how life always seems to come back to that, doesn’t it?”

●

The observation room was dimly lit, casting long, uneven shadows over you and Peter as you stood behind the two-way mirror, your heartbeat seemed to echo in the quiet, barely audible over the hum of the fluorescent light. You watched Hotch on the other side, preparing to interrogate the suspect, he appeared calm as usual, wearing his mask of stoicism proudly on his face, but you could tell the tension was palpable.

The room beyond the glass was stark, the suspect sat at the metal table gleaming under the harsh light with a smug expression, arms casually draped over the back of his chair, utterly unbothered. Te view was borderline infuriating.

The hair on your arms stood up, not just from the cold, but from the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had settled over the case. You couldn’t shake the nagging thought that you were grasping at straws, the weight of the local police’s blunders pressing heavily on your chest. They had fumbled, and badly. Critical evidence had slipped through their fingers, lost or contaminated in the chaos. You didn’t even want to hear the whole story—you were too furious, your senses shutting down as the same detective who had once doubted your work stumbled through a pathetic apology. All you had now was Hotch. No physical proof, no solid evidence to tie this man to the crimes you knew he’d committed.

Your gaze flicked back to the suspect, his arrogance nauseating. He knew the game, knew the system, and worse, he knew how to manipulate it to his advantage. There was a clock ticking in your mind, every second precious, the sense of urgency suffocating. If Hotch couldn’t break him - if he couldn’t find a way past the layers of lies and smug indifference - you’d lose him. You couldn’t afford that, not now.

Peter’s jaw clenched as he observed the scene, his frustration evident. “This was a mistake,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “We warned them not to bring him in without something solid. Now we’re stuck trying to clean up their mess.”

You nodded, your mind still reeling from the argument with Hotch the night before, as if all of this mess wasn’t already enough for your nerves to handle. The tension between you two had lingered, unresolved and heavy, adding another layer to your frustration. You tried to shake it off, but it clung to you, making it even harder to focus. “Yeah, and now Hotch has to pull off a miracle,” you said, your voice tinged with both a tinge of annoyance and worry. “He’s got one shot to get this right.”

Peter turned his attention back to the interrogation room, his eyes narrowing as Hotch sat across from the suspect. “If anyone can do it, it’s him. I’ve seen Hotch work multiple times, and somehow he even looks sharper, more intense.”

Inside the room, Hotch began his interrogation with a measured calm, his eyes locked on the suspect, who lounged back in his chair, exuding a quiet confidence. Hotch started with the basics, the routine questions meant to establish rapport, but the suspect was playing his own game, answering with a smug smile and evasive nonchalance.

Hotch leaned back, crossing his arms as he observed the suspect’s every move, every twitch. “You’ve been careful,” Hotch said, his voice steady but probing. “I’ll give you that. You’ve covered your tracks well. But you slipped up, everyone makes mistakes, especially when they think they’re untouchable.”

The suspect smirked, feigning boredom. “You’re wasting your breath, Agent Hotchner. You and I both know you have nothing on me - no evidence, no witnesses. You’re grasping at straws.”

Hotch’s gaze remained unflinching, but you could see the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he leaned in just slightly, narrowing the space between the two of them. “You’re right, we don’t have physical evidence, but we do have you, and that’s enough. Because here’s the thing - you’re not as smart as you think you are. You’ve made this personal, and personal is messy.”

The suspect chuckled, tapping his fingers lightly on the table as if this were a game to him. “Oh, please. I’ve seen every tactic in the book, and I’ve got an answer for all of them. You can’t intimidate me, Hotchner. I know my rights. You’ve got nothing.”

Hotch’s expression remained stoic, but there was a flash of determination in his eyes. “You think this is about intimidation? You’re missing the point. This isn’t about fear, it’s about you and the mistakes you’ve made. You’ve left a trail, little hints of who you really are. You think you’ve hidden them, but they’re there, buried in the details.”

The suspect’s confident facade faltered for just a second, but he quickly recovered, scoffing. “You’re reaching. This isn’t some TV show where the bad guy breaks down in a dramatic confession. I’m not saying a damn thing without my lawyer.”

Hotch’s demeanor shifted, a cold, calculating edge creeping into his voice. “Your lawyer? You think your lawyer’s going to save you? They’ll do their job, make sure you’re comfortable, make sure you feel safe. But at the end of the day, they’re not in here with you, they’re not the ones facing the consequences of your actions - you are. And you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

From the other side of the glass, you watched Hotch methodically chip away at the suspect’s arrogance. Each line of questioning was a carefully placed strike, designed to weaken his resolve, but the suspect wasn’t giving in easily. He deflected, twisted Hotch’s words, and tried to turn the conversation back on him.

“You think you’re so righteous, don’t you?” the suspect sneered, leaning forward with a glint of disdain in his eyes. “Sitting there, acting like you’ve got the moral high ground. You don’t know me, Agent Hotchner. You don’t know a damn thing about what I’ve been through, the people I’ve dealt with - you think you’re better than me?”

Hotch didn’t flinch even if the last words reminded him of the argument he had with you down at the lobby. “No, I don’t think I’m better than you, but I do know who you are. You’re the guy who blames everyone else when things go wrong, the guy who hides behind his intellect because he’s too scared to admit he’s just another coward trying to prove he’s not afraid. But guess what? That act doesn’t work on me.”

The suspect’s composure slipped, his anger flaring as Hotch hit a nerve. “You don’t get to judge me! You sit there like you’re some kind of saint, but you’re just as flawed as the rest of us. You have no right—”

Hotch cut him off sharply, his voice cold and unyielding. “You’re right. I’m not perfect. I’ve made my mistakes, and I own them. But I’m not the one hiding behind excuses, you are. You’re the one who thinks he can play God, decide who deserves to live or die based on your twisted sense of justice. But here’s the thing: you’re not in control, not anymore.”

From the observation room, you felt your chest tighten. Hotch was relentless, pushing the suspect further than you’d ever seen him push anyone before. It was as if he’d tapped into something raw and unforgiving, something that drove him to keep going, to tear down every last defense the suspect had.

Peter glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “I’ve never seen him go this hard. It’s like he’s on a mission.”

You nodded, the tension from last night’s argument still simmering inside you. You knew why Hotch was pushing himself like this: because of you, because of the unresolved words between you, and because he needed to prove something, maybe even to himself. “He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.”

Inside the room, the suspect’s attitude was crumbling. Hotch leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, laced with a quiet menace. “You think you’re untouchable, that you’ve covered all your bases. But I’ve spent years in courtrooms taking down men just like you, men who thought they were too smart to get caught. I know every trick, every lie, every pathetic attempt to weasel your way out of the truth.”

The suspect’s face tightened, his hands clenching into fists as he tried to maintain control. But Hotch was unrelenting, his gaze piercing through every layer of the man’s defenses. “You don’t want to admit it, but you’re scared, I can see it in your eyes. You’re terrified that the truth is going to come out, that all your carefully crafted lies are going to fall apart right in front of you - so, here’s your last chance. Tell me the truth. Tell me why you did it.”

There was a beat of silence, a heavy pause as the suspect’s composure finally shattered. His shoulders slumped, his defiance giving way to resignation. He looked up at Hotch, defeated and angry, his voice breaking as he finally confessed, each word a bitter surrender. “Fine. Fine, you want the truth? I did it. I killed them. But you have no idea why. You don’t know what it’s like to be powerless.”

“No you’re right, I don’t.” Hotch sat back, a flicker of triumph in his eyes, though his expression remained guarded: he had what he needed. The confession was out, raw and unfiltered, pulled from the depths of the suspect’s desperation.

Peter let out a low whistle, still reeling from what he’d witnessed. “That was... intense. I’ve never seen Hotch like that, he’s kind of intimidating.”

You nodded in agreement, your gaze still fixed on Hotch as he calmly gathered his notes, preparing to leave the room. You could see the toll it had taken on him, the emotional weight he carried even as he walked out victorious, and as much as you wanted to celebrate the success, the confrontation from the night before still lingered, leaving you with the unsettling realization that this fight wasn’t just with the suspect - it was within Hotch himself.

When Hotch stepped out of the interrogation room, the tension in his posture seemed to ease, but only slightly. His face was set in its usual mask of calm control, yet there was a heaviness in his eyes, a flicker of something raw that he couldn’t quite hide. Peter clapped him on the back, a mix of admiration and relief in his expression. “Hell of a job, Hotch. You tore him apart. I’ve seen you work, but that was something else entirely.”

Hotch gave a tight nod, his jaw still clenched, but his gaze was already shifting past Peter, landing on you. His eyes were searching, almost like he was trying to gauge your reaction, seeking some unspoken acknowledgment from you. “Thanks,” he said, his voice measured but tinged with exhaustion. “It had to be done.”

You stood there with your arms crossed, leaning against the wall, trying to maintain a composed exterior, but inside, you were anything but calm. Watching Hotch in that room, ruthlessly tearing down the suspect’s defenses, stirred something deep within you. It was impressive, yes, but also unsettling. You had never seen him so relentless, so driven - and you knew exactly what was fueling his determination.

As Hotch’s gaze lingered on you, there was a silent understanding between you, a shared acknowledgment of the emotional battlefield you both were navigating. The words from your argument the night before still echoed in your mind, sharp and unresolved, like an open wound that hadn’t had the chance to heal. The case had forced you both to set your personal issues aside, but now, in the aftermath, they were still there, hovering between you like a shadow neither of you could ignore.

Peter glanced between the two of you, sensing the charged atmosphere but choosing not to comment. He knew better than to pry, but even he could tell that whatever was going on between you and Hotch went deeper than the usual tension of a difficult case. “We got what we needed,” Peter said, trying to break the silence. “That’s what matters. Now we can finally put this bastard away.”

Hotch nodded, but his eyes never left yours, and in that moment, it felt like the rest of the room had faded away. It was just the two of you, caught in a silent standoff where neither of you knew how to take the next step. You wanted to say something, anything that would bridge the gap that had formed between you, but the words caught in your throat, tangled with the emotions you’d been trying so hard to keep in check.

The triumph of the confession felt hollow against the weight of what was still left unsaid. You and Hotch had always been able to read each other, but now, standing on opposite sides of this unspoken rift, it was as if the connection you’d relied on had fractured. There was so much you wanted to ask him: why he’d pushed so hard, why he seemed so desperate to prove something today, and why he couldn’t let his guard down, even for a moment. But instead, you just nodded, swallowing back the questions that burned at the back of your throat. “You did what you had to do,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though it wavered slightly. “Good work, Hotch.”

Hotch’s gaze softened for a brief second, a flicker of regret or maybe gratitude crossing his features, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Thanks,” he replied, his voice lower, more personal than before. “We all did.”Peter’s presence was a reminder that you weren’t alone, but it didn’t ease the tension that thrummed between you and Hotch. As Hotch turned to leave, the weight of your argument still hung heavy, unresolved, and painful. You watched him go, the distance between you feeling wider than ever, despite being just a few feet apart.

And as you stood there, with Peter by your side and the echo of Hotch’s footsteps fading down the corridor, you realized that the hardest part of this case wasn’t just about catching a killer, it was about facing the fractures in your own relationships, the ones that no amount of profiling or interrogation could ever fix.

The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels against the tracks was a dull, constant noise that filled the otherwise quiet cabin. You sat alone, your head down and your pen moving steadily across the paper as you filled out your case report. It was a task you’d thrown yourself into, your way of avoiding the one thing you weren’t ready to confront: Hotch.

Hotch sat a few rows behind you, his back to you, mirroring your actions as he worked on his own report with a similar intensity. It was almost poetic how the two of you were so much alike: both of you throwing yourselves into your work to avoid the harder truths, and neither willing to make the first move toward reconciliation.

As you focused on your writing, you heard footsteps approach. You didn’t need to look up to know it was Peter; you’d recognized the casual confidence in his stride from a mile away. He slid into the seat beside you without asking, his presence a familiar and oddly comforting interruption.

Peter glanced at your half-filled report, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You never could sit still, could you?” he said, his voice soft but laced with a hint of fondness. “Always working, always thinking.”

You tried to muster a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just trying to get this done before we get back,” you said, your tone evasive. You knew why he’d come over, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the conversation you’d been avoiding since you’d seen him again.

Peter watched you for a moment, his expression shifting from casual to serious. He took a deep breath, glancing at the report before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I’ve been wanting to tell you this since I got back, but I didn’t want to bring it up while we were in the middle of the case.”

You stiffened, knowing exactly what he was going to say but hoping he wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your dad’s funeral,” Peter said, his voice heavy with regret. “I wanted to be, but I was stuck overseas. I hate that I wasn’t there.”

You clenched your jaw, staring down at the paper in front of you, your pen hovering uselessly above the page. The memories of that day flooded backstanding at the grave, the heavy weight of loss pressing down on your chest, and the overwhelming feeling of being completely and utterly alone. You’d been surrounded by people, but none of them had truly understood, none of them had been him.

“It’s fine, Pete,” you said, though your voice was shaky. “You were doing your job. Besides, it’s not like it would’ve changed anything.”

Peter shook his head, frustration flickering in his eyes. “No, it’s not okay. You were always there for me, even when we were just kids trying to figure out what the hell we were doing with our lives. And I couldn’t even show up when you needed me the most.”

Peter studied you, his eyes searching yours. He could see the cracks you were trying so desperately to hide, the way you were holding yourself together with sheer willpower. “I should have been there,” he insisted gently. “I know how much you went through with him… I remember everything you told me about him.”

A knot formed in your throat as you thought back to your childhood, your father’s relentless work ethic, his unyielding drive for perfection. He had been your hero in so many ways, but he’d also been your downfall. You’d inherited his toxic trait of overworking yourself, the constant need to be better, to be more. It was how you’d coped with the chaos at home, the screaming matches between your parents that had been your daily soundtrack. Your mother, exasperated and exhausted, would often switch languages mid-argument to keep you in the dark, to protect you - or maybe just to exclude you - from the mess they had created.

“I was just a kid, you know?” you said quietly, your voice tinged with bitterness. “All I wanted was to understand why they were always fighting. I started learning every language my mom switched to, Italian, Spanish, anything that would give me a clue, but instead of finding answers, I just… found more reasons to stay away.”

Peter’s eyes softened, a flicker of pain crossing his features as he listened. “You drowned yourself in books, in knowledge, just to escape,” he said, his voice low. “I remember you telling me that once, how you’d sit in those lecture halls at the university, absorbing everything because it was better than being home.”

Your childhood had been filled their voices rising in heated exchanges that always seemed to end in silence, your father retreating to his study to bury himself in more work, and your mother seeking solace in her books. To escape the turbulence at home, you’d thrown yourself into your studies with a fervor that bordered on obsession. You’d devoured literature, philosophy, psychology, anything that could distract you from the reality of your parents’ failing marriage, to gain a semblance of control in a world that often felt chaotic and out of reach.

You had become fluent in the languages they used to hide their pain from you, and in doing so, you became fluent in the art of distancing yourself from your own emotions. The habit of overworking, of pouring yourself into every task with unrelenting focus, was something you had learned from your father, a toxic legacy that you couldn’t quite shake, even now. It had been the source of countless arguments with your mother, who had begged you not to follow in his footsteps, to find balance, to live a life that wasn’t dictated by the demands of work. But it was easier said than done, and as the years went on, you found yourself mirroring his habits more than you cared to admit.

You nodded, swallowing hard against the emotion that threatened to choke you. “I kept pushing myself, kept chasing after something I couldn’t even name. My dad… he always told me that hard work was the only thing that mattered, he never slowed down, never stopped, and neither did I. Even when their marriage fell apart… even when he got sick. I just… I couldn’t stop.”

You hesitated, your eyes welling up with tears that you refused to let fall. “I didn’t even cry at his funeral, I just stood there, feeling nothing. And I haven’t been to visit his grave since.”

Peter gently reached out, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder, tightly hugging you. “It’s okay not to be okay, Y/N,” he murmured. “You don’t have to carry this all on your own. The least I can do is be the shoulder you can lean on.” Peter squeezed your shoulder gently, his eyes filled with compassion. “Your dad was tough, but he loved you, Y/N. And you don’t have to prove anything to him, not anymore. You’re allowed to grieve, to feel lost, to not have all the answers.”

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. “I know. But sometimes it’s hard to remember that.”

Hotch sat just behind you, his back facing yours, he had intended to keep to himself, to give you the space you needed, but the quiet murmurs of your conversation had carried over. He couldn’t help but overhear Peter’s words, and as he listened, a wave of guilt and realization washed over him.

Hotch had always prided himself on his ability to read people, to see through the masks they wore, but he hadn’t seen through yours. He hadn’t seen the pain you’d been hiding, the grief that had been eating away at you just beneath a slim surface. And suddenly, your words from the night before came crashing back: how he didn’t know you, how he’d never bothered to look beyond the professional facade you’d built.

His own mind flickered back to his childhood, the memories of his father’s anger, the violence that lurked behind every door. Hotch had spent years burying and hiding those scars, never letting anyone see how deeply they ran. He had kept it all locked away, just as you had, believing that the only way to survive was to keep moving, to never let the pain catch up.

For the first time, Hotch truly understood why you had lashed out at him. You had seen in him the very thing you feared in yourself: the relentless drive to work, to control, to avoid facing the hurt that lingered beneath. He realized now that you were so much more alike than he had ever imagined, both of you haunted by the ghosts of your pasts, both trying to outrun the pain that always seemed to catch up.

As Hotch stared out the window at the passing scenery, he felt a deep sense of remorse. He wished he had known, wished he had been able to offer you the support you so clearly needed. But all he could do now was hope that you would one day trust him enough to let him in, to share the burdens you had been carrying alone for far too long.

Peter’s voice broke the silence, pulling Hotch from his thoughts. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know that? But it’s okay to let someone else be strong for you, too.”

You nodded, wiping away the tears that had finally escaped. “Thanks, Pete. It’s just… it’s hard.”

“I know,” Peter said softly. “But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Hotch listened to the quiet exchange, the raw honesty between you and Peter striking a chord deep within him. He knew now that he couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine, that the walls he had built were enough to protect him or you. As the train sped toward Quantico, Hotch made a silent promise to himself: he would do better, he would be better. For you, and for himself.

Because in the end, you both deserved more than just the comfort of solitude. You deserved to be understood, to be seen, and to finally let go of the burdens you had carried for far too long.

Peter on the other hand had always been the kind of friend who could read you like a book, even when you tried to keep the pages closed. And after this emotional confrontation he knew he didn’t have to push further. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way you were holding yourself together by the thinnest thread. So, he did what he always did best, he tried to lift your spirits, if only for a moment.

He leaned back in his seat, studying your expression with a knowing smile. “You know, Y/N, you don’t have to unload everything on me right now. You’re allowed to keep some things to yourself. You don’t owe anyone your pain.” His tone was light, but there was a deep, unspoken understanding beneath it. He knew you were struggling, and he wanted you to know that it was okay to take your time.

You gave him a small, tired smile, grateful for his patience. “I know, Pete. It’s just... hard to talk about. I’ve been so focused on work, it’s easier that way. It’s all I know.”

Peter nodded, his eyes softening with empathy. “I get it. But maybe it’s time to leave work behind, just for a little while. You don’t have to think about everything right now. Start small. Maybe try coming out of your room every once in a while?” He said it with a teasing grin, nudging your shoulder playfully, hoping to coax even the smallest laugh out of you.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at his attempt to lighten the mood. “I know, I’ve been a bit of a hermit lately. I guess it’s easier to just shut myself away.”

Peter’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, lucky for you, your presence is strictly required at my welcome-back party tonight. The team’s putting it together, and you have no excuses not to come. I already told them you’d be there.”

You groaned, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “Seriously? Peter, I don’t know if I’m up for-”

He cut you off, holding up a hand. “Ah-ah, no excuses. We’ll be back by early afternoon, you’ll have plenty of time to rest, take a shower, and then you’re going to show up and have a good time, even if I have to drag you there myself.”

You rolled your eyes, but his enthusiasm was infectious. There was a warmth in his insistence, a reminder that you weren’t alone and that there was still joy to be found, even in the smallest of moments. “Fine, fine. I’ll be there. But only because you’re the most obnoxiously persistent person I know.”

Peter laughed, giving you a mock bow from his seat. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously, Y/N, it’ll be good to see you outside of the office for once. We all miss you, and I promise, you’ll be glad you came.”

You nodded, feeling a small flicker of anticipation amidst the exhaustion. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to look forward to something that wasn’t work, something that didn’t involve endless reports or painful memories. It wasn’t a solution to all your problems, but it was a start—a chance to reconnect with the people who mattered, to take a breath and remember that there was more to life than the shadows that had been chasing you.

As you looked at Peter, his familiar smile reminding you of all the good things you’d shared over the years, you felt a small surge of hope. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The train ride back to Quantico had felt endless, but the weight of the unresolved emotions made the journey back to your apartment even more suffocating. Peter’s words lingered, tugging at wounds you hadn’t dared to touch, and Hotch’s distant presence weighed heavily on your mind. The familiar solitude of your apartment was supposed to be comforting, but tonight, it felt more like a reminder of all the things you’d been running from: your grief, your past, and the fragile, fraying connection with the person who had come to mean so much to you.

You dropped your bag onto the floor, letting it fall with a thud that echoed through the empty space. You leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling the cool surface against your palms as you tried to ground yourself. You wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. It was as if you’d locked them away, buried them beneath layers of duty and distraction.

But then there was a knock at your door, soft and tentative, almost like the person on the other side wasn’t sure they should be there. You hesitated, wiping at your eyes quickly as if to compose yourself, and moved to answer. You half-expected to find Peter, still worried about you after the train ride, or maybe even no one at all, just a mistake. But when you opened the door, it was Hotch who stood before you.

He looked different, more vulnerable and uncertain than you had ever seen him. His usually composed demeanor was frayed, and there was a rawness in his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and heavy burdens. He stood there awkwardly, clutching the doorframe as if it were the only thing keeping him upright, his face etched with a mixture of hesitation and determination.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like a fragile thread, one wrong move away from snapping. Hotch looked down, swallowing hard as if searching for the right words. He wasn’t in his usual pristine suit but rather dressed in a simple shirt and jeans, his attire as out of place as the uncertainty written across his face.

“Hotch?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, tinged with both surprise and concern. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looked at you, as if he was struggling to find the right words, struggling to let down the walls he had spent a lifetime building. He stepped inside, and you quietly closed the door behind him, your heart pounding as you waited for him to speak. He took a few slow steps into the living room, glancing around as if trying to ground himself in the unfamiliar space.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice strained and brittle, every word heavy with unspoken pain. “I know this isn’t… I shouldn’t have just shown up like this, but I needed to talk to you. About… about what you said last night, and today on the train. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation with Peter.”

This wasn’t the composed, confident man you knew at work, this was Aaron, someone you never got to see, someone who was barely holding it together. “ You were right, Y/N. You were right about everything.”

You stood there, frozen, as his words hit you like a wave. You had never heard Hotch sound so vulnerable, so broken. He was always the strong one, the unshakable agent who never let his guard down, but tonight, he was just Aaron, and he was struggling.

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep things separate,” he began, his voice trembling. “I thought if I could just focus on the work, I could ignore everything else—everything that hurt, everything that felt out of my control. But I can’t keep doing that. It’s not who I am, and it’s not who I want to be anymore.”

Hotch’s hands shook as he tried to steady himself, his eyes brimming with emotions he had kept buried for so long. “My father... he was abusive. He was cruel in ways that I can’t even put into words. He’d tear me apart with his words, his fists, anything to remind me that I was never good enough. I grew up in a house that felt more like a battlefield than a home, where silence was never safe and every day was just another fight to survive.”

His voice cracked, and you could see the weight of those memories in his eyes: the fear, the shame, the endless need to be perfect because nothing less would ever be enough for a man who thrived on control. “I tried so hard to protect my mom, my brother, but I was just a kid. There were nights when I’d lie awake, praying he’d leave us alone, praying I’d be strong enough to make it stop. But it never did. And I swore that when I grew up, I’d never be like him. I’d never let anyone see that weakness.”

You listened, your own tears finally breaking free as his pain washed over you. You had never imagined Hotch’s past had been so brutal, so deeply scarred by violence and fear. He had always seemed so put together, so composed, but now, you could see just how much he had been hiding, how much he had been carrying all this time.

“I thought if I kept that part of myself locked away, I’d be able to move on. I thought… I thought if I became Hotch, the profiler, that it would erase all the things he said I’d never be. But it’s just made me more closed off, more afraid to let anyone in. And I’ve been doing it for so long, I don’t even know how to stop.”

He looked at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, and you could see the desperation there - the plea for understanding, for forgiveness, for something he couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know how to let people in, Y/N. I don’t know how to not be this… this guarded version of myself. But if I’m going to try, if I’m going to let anyone see me, I want it to be you. Because you were right when you said I don’t know you, but I want to. And you deserve to know me, too—the real me.”

The vulnerability in his voice shattered something inside you, and without thinking, you closed the distance between you and pulled him into a tight, desperate hug. Hotch tensed at first, unaccustomed to such unguarded intimacy, but then his arms wrapped around you, and you could feel him finally letting go. His head bowed against your shoulder, and his entire frame shook with the silent sobs he’d been holding back for too long.

You clung to him, your own tears mingling with his, and in that moment, it felt like the dam you’d both been holding back had finally broken. You were no longer the stoic agents who always had the answers, always kept it together. You were just two people, scarred and hurting, trying to find solace in the only way you knew how: by holding on to each other.

Hotch’s hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he held you closer, as if you were the lifeline he had been searching for. He whispered apologies between his tears, his voice cracking with the weight of his regrets. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I didn’t see it. I didn’t see you.”

You shook your head, burying your face into his neck, your tears soaking through his t-shirt as you let out all the grief you’d kept buried: the loss of your father, the unresolved pain of your parents’ broken marriage, the way you had thrown yourself into work to keep from falling apart. You had been running for so long, hiding behind your accomplishments, just like him.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Aaron,” you whispered through your tears, the use of his first name slipping out naturally in this moment of raw honesty. “I had no idea. I was so angry, and I—”

He shook his head, his voice soft but firm as he whispered back, “You don’t have to apologize. You were right… about all of it. I needed to hear it. I needed to face it.”

The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped up in each other’s pain and understanding, the weight of your shared burdens finally feeling just a little bit lighter. There were no perfect words, no easy fixes, but in that embrace, you found something neither of you had expected—comfort, solace, and the beginning of a new kind of trust.

“It’s okay,” you whispered through your tears, clutching him tighter. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

For the first time, it felt like you were truly seen, truly understood, and the relief of it was overwhelming. You didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to be strong or perfect or put together. You could just be, and he could just be, and that was enough.

Hotch pulled back slightly, your eyes finally met, both of you still teary but no longer hiding. There was a silent understanding there, a promise that from now on, things would be different. “No more walls. No more hiding.” He murmured, his voice shaky but filled with a quiet determination.

You nodded, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it. You didn’t know what the future would hold, but as you held each other in that quiet, tear-stained moment, you knew that you weren’t alone anymore. You had each other, and that was a start. It was messy, and it was painful, but it was real. And in that, you found hope - hope that maybe, together, you could begin to heal. You weren’t just partners in the professional sense anymore; you were something more—two people learning to let each other in, to lean on each other’s strength when your own wasn’t enough. And in that simple, fragile moment, you both knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone, that your new friend would be right there at your side.

The evening had settled over the city, and the Irish pub next to your apartment block was buzzing with energy. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel a glimmer of lightness, excitement bubbling at the thought of spending time with Hotch, Peter, and the rest of your colleagues from the BAU. After everything that had happened, the weight of unresolved emotions had eased, if only slightly, and you found yourself looking forward to reconnecting with your team outside the pressures of the job.

Earlier that afternoon, you’d stopped by a bookstore, the small shop tucked between a row of cafes and boutique stores you often passed but rarely visited. As you browsed the shelves, your eyes fell on a book titled "Hegel for Dummies." It was a perfect, lighthearted gesture, a small symbol of your newfound friendship with Hotch, and a callback to the night you’d spent poring over Frank Lloyd Wright’s designs at the library. You thought that maybe, after his recent dive into architecture, he might take an interest in philosophy too, especially Hegel, one of your favorites. The book felt like a tiny olive branch, a way of letting him into your world a little more, just as he had let you into his the night before.

You imagined him reading it, piecing together Hegel’s ideas on thesis, antithesis, and synthesis, and maybe learning something about you in the process. And who knew? Maybe one day, if you were lucky, he’d hand you one of his favorite books, offering you another glimpse into the parts of himself he rarely showed.

When you walked into the pub, the warm light and chatter were an immediate comfort. You spotted your team at a long wooden table near the back, and to your surprise, you saw Gideon sitting there, crutches leaned against the wall, his leg injury having kept him out of the latest case. Rossi was beside him, the two of them looking as inseparable as ever, trading stories and laughs over pints of beer. It was a sight that immediately lifted your spirits.

“Look who finally made it!” Rossi called out, waving you over. “Come on, we saved you a seat.”

You grinned, making your way through the crowd. “Rossi, Gideon, you two didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

Gideon leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, you didn’t think we’d miss the party, did you? Besides, someone has to make sure Peter doesn’t get too full of himself.”

Peter shot you a wink, raising his glass in greeting. “They’re just here to bask in my glory, Y/N. But don’t let them fool you, they’ve been talking about you all night.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you took a seat between Gideon and Peter. “I’m sure they have. So, what did I miss?”

Before anyone could answer, Hotch walked in, his presence as commanding as ever, though there was a new softness in his eyes when he spotted you. You exchanged a smile, a silent acknowledgment of the night before, and of the steps you were both taking toward something new, something vulnerable.

“Hotch!” Rossi greeted, patting the empty seat beside him. “Come sit, we’re debating where Peter’s new desk should be. Since Y/N’s parked herself at his old one, we might need to reshuffle the whole bullpen.”

Hotch took his seat, glancing at you with a teasing smile. “I think she’s gotten too comfortable. I doubt she’s giving it up.”

Peter leaned in closer to you, his voice low and conspiratorial whispering into your ear “Wanna make a bet?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “See that woman behind Hotch’s shoulder? If she doesn’t come talk to him, you get to keep your desk.”

You eyed the woman briefly, noticing her casual yet elegant demeanor, but she seemed engrossed in her own conversation. Hotch was engaged in a discussion with Rossi, showing no sign of noticing her. You were confident this would be an easy win, especially given Hotch’s typically reserved nature. “Alright,” you said, turning back to Peter. “And what do you get if you win?”

Peter’s grin widened, the playful edge in his voice unmistakable. “A date. With you.”

The unexpected proposition caught you off guard, and for a moment, you felt your cheeks warm. You glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was serious, but his expression remained light, teasing. You brushed it off with a laugh, pretending he was just messing with you. “Okay, you’re on.”

But no sooner had you accepted the bet than the woman, as if she had somehow overheard your conversation, moved toward Hotch with an expression of surprise. You watched in stunned silence as she approached, her voice soft and familiar. “Aaron? What were the odds?”

Your heart sank as Hotch’s face lit up, a rare and genuine smile crossing his features, his cheeks flushed slightly, and there was a familiarity between them that made your chest tighten. You felt Peter nudge you, his voice breaking through the shock. “Looks like you owe me a date.”

You barely registered his words, too fixated on the interaction unfolding in front of you. Hotch returned to the table with the woman by his side, her presence seeming to fill the room in a way that made you feel suddenly small and out of place. Hotch’s voice cut through the noise, introducing her with a casualness that belied the weight of the moment. “Everyone, this is Haley.”

You barely managed to hold your composure, the pieces of this unexpected puzzle falling into place as you processed Hotch’s flushed expression and the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. This wasn’t just anyone, this was someone from his past, someone who clearly was very close and definitely had shared some sort of romantic history with him. The bitter thoughts stung more than you wanted to admit.

Before you could say anything, Gideon, ever the observant one, leaned over, catching sight of the corner of a book sticking out of your open purse. “Hegel for Dummies?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, amusement flickering in his voice as he picked it up to inspect.

You nodded, still too stunned to fully engage, your mind elsewhere. “Yeah. It’s… it’s just a little joke,” you managed, though the words felt hollow in the moment.

Gideon smiled knowingly, his eyes shifting between you and Hotch. “Thesis, antithesis, and synthesis,” he mused, almost as if he were speaking to himself but loud enough for you to hear. “Funny how life always seems to come back to that, doesn’t it?”

The words hung heavy in the air, and as you sat there, watching Hotch interact with Haley, you couldn’t help but feel the truth in them. Life was messy, a constant push and pull of opposing forces, and you were caught in the middle of it, trying to make sense of what it all meant.

[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.

[void-and-virtue]

OP I LOVED UR ANDREIL POST GOING CRAZY THINKING ABOUT IT if you have anything else in that amazing brain of yours on this take please do share because i absolutely LOVED how you articulated this aspect about andreil. its something i particularily appreciate about their dynamic and relationship with anger and Their Issues TM. your post will cross my mind whenever ill think about it from now on.

I don’t think I have ever gotten an ask and this is kind of making me go insane??? I hope you know that you made my day and also, I’m so glad people share in my endless brainrot bc when it comes to this series and these characters I simply cannot stop

It really isn’t nearly talked about enough that the thing that got Andrew to actually look at Neil and become interested was (as cited by Neil himself at some point tho I can’t remember in which book that scene is from the top of my head) Neil’s bone-deep jealousy of Kevin. It’s—it ties into that whole epiphany that Neil has at some point, when he looks at Andrew and realizes that while he is hurtling towards his own breaking point and about to burn out and shatter into something he’s not sure he’d recognize if he survived the encounter, Andrew hit that point and broke from it years ago. And that’s an understanding that goes both ways between them—in a fucked up way, it feels like Andrew might be the future that Neil has waiting for him if he doesn’t end the year six feet under: hollow and drifting, passionless after everything he had to rip away from himself to be able to survive. At the same time, Neil probably reminds Andrew of how he used to be, back when he had hope for things only to have that hope rip him apart—which is exactly where Neil seems to be headed for the majority of the story.

I think that a lot of Andrew’s understanding of Neil comes from the fact that he knows intimately what it feels like to be caught between a rock and a hard place and cut his own lifeline, only to then fail to die on impact. Neil hasn’t had to resort to that yet, but he is hanging by a thread. You’d think that watching him struggle would only serve to drive it home for Andrew that he made the right choice in closing himself off, except… well. His expectations of life and the people in it are so bleak, it’s no wonder he finds himself drawn to Neil’s messy emotions and every unexpected show of spine like a moth to a flame.

Neil, for all of his issues and scars, can still feel things—can still want something so badly it defies all logic. Can want something with such visceral, fucked-up intensity that it resonates where it shouldn’t. It’s an ability that Andrew thinks he’s either lost or cut out of himself to stay somewhat safe, sane and alive a long time ago, but that remains as the most fundamental crack in the foundation of his being. It’s a fascination that seems to come out every time he’s sober and eventually ties into him wanting Neil—wanting something worth wanting and putting a name to it once he finds it. They look at each other and don’t want a watered-down version of the person in front of them. It creates a relationship that embraces issues big and small and accepts (even values!) the messy parts of being human. It means that any space shared between them immediately becomes safe once they settle into something comfortable together. The way they handle the uglier sides of each other’s personality honestly makes me feral because it’s always done with understanding and acceptance and they even find positives or comforts there that the other can’t see and that’s probably a reason for why 1) their chemistry is so off the charts and 2) their relationship is so damn healthy (in addition to their communication being stupidly good when it comes to each other).

Andrew wants something real and Neil wants to be real. And then they get to have exactly that.

[caffeinatedopossum]

I'm watching mob pyscho 100 and it actually makes sense now. I tried to watch it once when I was younger and couldn't understand anything that was going on but now I'm like "oooh we're autistic" lmao. So THAT'S why I didn't know what was going on

[seethinglikeme]

seeing ppl say that dabi’s an emotionless sociopath just bc he says he is is actually annoying af to me 😭 like r u rlly gonna say the guy who thought so hard abt the families of the ppl he’s killed he went crazy, went berserk when twice died, and literally burned himself to death BC he was so emotional that his father didn’t come to see his quirk’s development is unemotional just bc he says he is? cmon babes be for fucking real 😭

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[thehmn]

I wanted to make this post because we don’t see a lot of asexual characters in western media and despite him being from a hugely popular show (Seaside Hotel) you’re unlikely to know of his existence if you’re not from Denmark.

His name is Hjalmar Aurland and he’s one of the more sympathetic and realistic asexual characters I’ve seen. He lives in a time and place where asexuality as a concept doesn’t exist yet so he’s never labeled as such but rewatching the show made me realize that he acts exactly like the asexual people I personally know. Asexuality can mean a lot of things but his specific brand isn’t naive to sex nor is he repulsed by sex, sexual desire or thoughts simply doesn’t come naturally to him.

He can be convinced to have sex with his wife Helene but only if she appeals to their emotional bond. Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, he’s not being forced or emotionally blackmailed to sleep with her. It’s simply that he understands sex is a way to show emotional love too and he wants to express that love for Helene when it’s important to her, and seeing as sex isn’t unpleasant to him, just kinda boring, he’s willing to do that for her.

Unfortunately that isn’t enough for Helene and despite her love for Hjalmar she starts an affair with the dramatic and emotional actor Edward Weyse. He has a string of relationships, marriages and divorces behind him because despite what it may look like from the outside Edward doesn’t really want shallow sexual relationships. He just can’t help himself and keep falling in love with women left and right, fully and wholeheartedly, only to be dumped or dump them once the initial excitement has passed.

So Helene and Edward’s affair that was only meant to satisfy their carnal desires quickly becomes romantic. Helene feels torn between him and Hjalmar who she still loves and Edward understands the difficult situation they’re both in while also feeling jealous of Hjalmar. And Hjalmar? He doesn’t catch on for years. He’s not stupid but his brain just doesn’t jump to sex. He just assumes they’re good friends and why shouldn’t his wife be allowed to have friends, even male ones? Things get really complicated when Helene gets pregnant and she has to have sex with Hjalmar so he won’t wonder how it happened. Edward even has to join in on the seduction, reminding Hjalmar how much Helene loves him, even though it breaks Edward’s heart to do so.

But like I’ve said Hjalmar isn’t stupid. He saw the signs but chose to ignore them until one night when Helene accidentally says Edward’s name. It breaks the dam in Hjalmar’s denial and he has to face that deep down he always knew. Overcome by sadness and betrayal he wanders off into the night in nothing but his nightgown and gets a room at a different hotel where he can think in peace. Eventually he agrees to return to the first hotel with Helene and Edward and decides to take control of the situation.

He sits them both down and tells them that he understands that the three of them share a bond and that there are things he can’t really do for Helene so from now on he wants their relationship to be open and honest. He wants Helene and Edward to keep seeing each other and Edward is welcome in their house, but Hjalmar wants to be allowed to call Edward by his first name and makes it very clear that Helene and Edward’s children “belong to him” because he still thinks of himself as their dad and loves them as his own children. Both Helene and Edward agrees to it, though the emotional Edward is very flustered and confused by the acceptance and love he’s being shown by Hjalmar.

This is obviously a very tv drama situation but I was so stuck by how much Hjalmar acts like my asexual friends. Having a lover for your partner isn’t the most common solution but it’s an idea I’ve heard a lot of asexual people be open to under the right circumstances and of course that’s the most dramatic solution for a romantic tv drama.

Hjalmar is defined by so much more than his sexuality though. His main characteristic is his passion for social justice and equality, and other than some early show weirdness before they really cemented the characters, Hjamler is the only character who floats freely between the men and women. He’s just as likely to sit with the men as he is the women, often appearing in otherwise entirely female spaces. It’s never questioned or even brought up, not because he’s a “safe asexual” but because he cares and think their worries are as important as the men’s. He’s often called a pessimist by the other men when in reality he is determined to be hopeful and compassionate and spread the love he feels the world is lacking as WWII draws closer.

So yeah, I just wanted to share this sweet ace guy with you because you probably wouldn’t have known about him otherwise.

[gilbertscurls]

Taste ➵ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: SMUT, virgin!matt, softdom!reader, unprotected p in v, heavy on praise and consent, oral!f!receiving, can't tell if it's cringe or not lmao

synopsis: on their first anniversary, y/n and matt finally decide to go all the way.

“I can't believe it's been a year already.” You let out a quiet sigh.

Matt nodded, the thought of their year together bringing a smile to his lips.

“Yeah. It feels like just yesterday we had our first date,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

He remembered every detail of that day, the way you looked, the way he'd been so nervous he felt like he might throw up. But he'd found the courage to ask you out, and you'd said yes. It felt like a dream come true.

Matt's gaze drifted from your face to the room around them. The soft, warm light of the lamp by the bed was casting shadows on the walls, the room cozy and intimate. The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by their soft breathing. Matt couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment, a feeling of being right where he belonged.

“I can't believe how lucky I am,” he murmured, his voice low. “To have you, I mean.”

“I'm the lucky one,” you whispered.

Matt chuckled softly at your words, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

“Oh, please,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I'm the one who gets to hold you like this, to call you mine. I think I won the lottery.”

You giggled, a sound that always made Matt's heart skip a beat.

“I can't argue with that,” you conceded. You snuggled closer to him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “But I get to hold you back, so we're even.”

Matt's hand moved to your back, gently tracing circles on your skin. The feel of you against him, the sound of your voice, was comforting and soothing, but it also stirred a different kind of feeling in him. A feeling of desire and longing.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer, his fingers tracing your spine. Matt's heart thrummed with anticipation. The fact that you've never done more than kiss had been on his mind a lot lately. He wanted you, more than he could say. And tonight felt different, special. It was their anniversary, a milestone in their relationship. A part of him ached to take things further, to show you how much he loved you. But his insecurities and anxieties held him back. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he disappointed you? The thought was terrifying.

“Baby,” he finally said, breaking the silence between them. He swallowed hard, his heart beating a little faster. “Can I ask you something?” His voice was nervous, and he was suddenly regretting asking you anything at all.

At his anxious tone, you knitted your brows and turned to face him. “Of course. What is it?”

Matt looked down at you, his thoughts a swirling mess of anxiety and desire. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “It's… It's our anniversary,” he started, his voice a little shaky. “And I was wondering…”

He trailed off, the words failing him. He felt like a complete idiot. He'd never been good with expressing his desires, especially when it came to physical intimacy.

You gazed at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. You could tell he was nervous, and it made you worry. You reached up, gently caressing his cheek. “Yes?” you prompted, your voice gentle and encouraging.

Matt's heart fluttered at your touch, and he took another deep breath, summoning his courage. “I was just… I was thinking…” he mumbled, his words barely more than a whisper. “Tonight, I was hoping we could… Take things further.”

He felt a blush rising up his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Are you sure? Like, 100% sure?”

Matt nodded quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice trembling slightly. “I'm sure. I've been thinking about it for a while now. I… I want you, baby.”

Saying the words out loud sent a shockwave of adrenaline through him. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and wonderful all at once. But he knew he needed to be honest, to lay it all out on the table.

“I'm just... nervous,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I've never done anything more than kissing, and I don't… I don't know if I'll be any good.”

“It's okay,” you whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek. “But are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you'll regret.”

Matt leaned into your touch, the warmth and tenderness of your hand calming him down a little. But your words also made him pause. Was he sure? He desperately wanted this, wanted you. But his insecurities were still looming, a dark cloud in the back of his mind.

“I'm sure,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “I want this. With you.”

“All right.” You nodded. “How… How far are we talking?”

Matt felt his cheeks flush even more, but he forced himself to keep eye contact with you. He appreciated your directness, and your willingness to talk about this openly.

“I, uh…” he began, his voice still a little shaky. “Everything, I guess. If you want that.”

He swallowed hard, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He hoped he wasn't pressuring you or coming on too strong.

You felt your heart skipping a beat and heat already pooling in your lower abdomen. “I do,” you said softly. “But I want to make sure you're completely comfortable.”

Hearing your confirmation sent a pang of excitement through Matt. He felt a mix of emotions, desire, affection, and a hint of fear. But overruling it all was a deep sense of trust. Your words, your reassurance, it was all he needed.

“I am,” he said, his voice a little steadier now. “I trust you, baby. Completely.”

A small, tender smile crept onto your face. “Okay.” Your voice was so soft, so sweet, so kind. “Do you… Want me to take the lead?”

Matt's heart leaped at your question, a mix of relief and desire coursing through him. The idea of you taking control was both frightening and exciting. He hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “I… I want you to take the lead.”

You put one of your hands on his cheek before slowly and gently pressing your lips against his.

Matt's heart skipped a beat at the feel of your lips on his. He'd kissed you countless times before, but this kiss felt different, more intimate. He let out a soft sigh against your mouth, all his anxieties and worries melting away as your touch filled his senses. He brought his own hands up to cup your face, his fingers gently tracing your jaw, his touch soft and reverent.

The kiss deepened, their mouths moving against each other in a slow, languorous dance. Matt could feel the heat pooling in his stomach, the desire for you growing with every passing second. The fear was still there, but it was muffled by the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. He pulled you closer, his hands moving to your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin.

Not stopping the kiss, You moved to straddle his lap, your knees on both sides of his thighs.

Matt felt a shiver run down his spine as you straddled him, your body suddenly so close and so warm. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, their bodies now pressed together in a way you’ve never been before. The feeling of your weight on his lap ignited a new wave of desire in him, his kisses growing even more intense. He wanted you, desperately.

“You okay?” you mumbled into his lips.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as you spoke, the feeling of your words more like breath than a sound. He couldn't even form a response, his mind completely consumed by your touch and the taste of your lips. He managed a nod, a weak yes whispered against your mouth. He was more than okay. He was on fire.

Matt groaned involuntarily at the feel of your tongue against his lip, the sound more a mixture of pleasure and need than anything else. He immediately parted his lips, granting you access without a second thought. His hands moved to your thighs, his fingers gripping your flesh as he opened his mouth to her.

The kiss grew hungrier, more urgent. Their tongues tangled together, exploring each other without restraint. Matt was lost in the sensation, in the feeling of you in his lap, your body pressed against him. He could hardly think straight, his mind clouded by desire and need. His hips involuntarily bucked slightly, seeking more contact.

“Impatient, huh?” You teased softly, pulling away a little.

Matt let out a low growl of frustration as you pulled away, a mix of desire and irritation in his expression. He was getting so lost in the moment, he was aching for more. Your words, your tease only heightened his need.

“Baby…” he breathed, his voice a mixture of pleading and impatience. “Don't tease me.”

You smiled tenderly before grabbing his both hands and sliding them under your crop top, urging him to take it off.

Matt let out a sharp breath at the feel of your skin under his hands, your top soft and warm. Without hesitation, he moved his hands slowly up your stomach, his fingers exploring the planes of your skin as he helped you pull off your crop top. It fell to the floor, forgotten. His eyes went wide at the sight of your half-naked upper body, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh God,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

Matt couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to. His eyes were drawn to your chest, his breath hitching at the sight. It was as if his brain was shorting out, his desire for you overwhelming everything else. He felt a mix of awe, arousal, and a hint of nervousness. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly very dry.

“You're… You're so beautiful,” he managed to whisper, his voice thick with want.

You smiled softly, your fingertips tracing his shoulders over the t-shirt. “Can I take it off, baby?”

Matt's muscles twitched under your touch, your words sending a shudder down his spine.

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice a little shaky. “Please.”

He wanted to feel your skin on his, the touch of your fingers on his bare chest. He raised his arms to help you as you tugged his t-shirt over his head, discarding it to the side.

Matt's muscles twitched under your touch, your words sending a shudder down his spine. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice a little shaky. “Please.”

He wanted to feel your skin on his, the touch of your fingers on his bare chest. He raised his arms to help you as you tugged his t-shirt over his head, discarding it to the side.

Once the shirt was off, his chest was now bare, exposed to your touch and gaze. Matt felt a mixture of vulnerability and excitement, his heart beating fast in his chest. He could feel your eyes on him, your fingers tracing soft patterns on his skin. He wanted you, all of you.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice ragged with need. “Touch me.”

Obediently, You ran your fingertips through his shoulders, to his arms, to his chest. “God, you're so beautiful,” you whispered breathlessly.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as your fingers glided over his skin, your touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. He shivered under your touch, a small moan escaping his lips. Your words, your voice, your touch — it was all almost too much to bear.

“No, you are,” he breathed, his own hands moving to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So beautiful. So perfect."

You were doing everything so slowly and gently, knowing that he'd never done anything like that before. You wanted to make it so good for him. Matt was both grateful and frustrated by your slow and gentle pace. Grateful that you were so patient, and so understanding, but frustrated because he just wanted more. He wanted to be consumed by you, to lose himself in your touch. But he knew you were doing it for his sake, to make it easier for him, and that only made him love you more.

“Baby,” he gasped, his voice pleading. “Please. More. I need more.”

You smirked before leaning a little closer to his face. “You want more?”

Matt looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, his expression a mixture of need and pleading.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice a little breathless. “I want more. I want all of you.”

He reached up to you, his hands skimming up your sides, his touch firm and possessive. He wanted to touch you, to feel you, to lose himself in you.

“Please,” he added, his voice a low, desperate plea.

You held his face as you kissed him once again, the kiss sweet and full of emotion.

Matt returned the kiss hungrily, his lips moving against yours with a mix of desperation and affection. He couldn't get close enough to you, his hands roaming over your bare skin, wanting to feel you, to touch you everywhere. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a new, more urgent fervor. He could feel his desire for you growing, overpowering everything else.

“Baby…” he breathed into your mouth. “Please, I… I need you.”

Matt swore, his head falling back on the pillow as you ground your hips with his. The feel of you grinding against him, the friction, the heat, and the pressure — it was almost too much. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, trying to pull you closer, to increase the contact. A low moan escaped his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Oh God,” he panted, his eyes squeezed shut. “Baby… That feels… That feels so good.”

“You sound so pretty,” you praised breathlessly.

Matt blushed at your words, his heart fluttering at your praise. He let out another soft moan as you rode against him, his body responding instinctively. He was completely lost in the sensation, the feel of your body against his driving him mindless. He tried to form words, to respond, but all that came out was another low groan.

“God… Baby,” he breathed, his hands still holding onto your hips. “Don't… Don't stop.”

His body was on fire, his every nerve alive with desire. He could feel his own hardness growing beneath you, a testament to how much he needed you. His hips canted upward, seeking more contact, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. He opened his eyes, looking up at you, his gaze filled with a mix of want and awe.

“Sweetheart… I… I don't know how much… How much longer I can last,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

“It's okay, baby,” you cooed, halting your movements.

Matt let out a small, involuntarily whine as you stopped moving, his body protesting the lack of sensation. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire and frustration, but also with a hint of relief. He was so close to the edge, he didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

“I… I thought you would keep going,” he breathed, his voice a combination of disappointment and need.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you teased, your hand running down his chest, from his shoulder to his happy trail, before finally resting on the buckle of his belt.

Matt's breath hitched at your touch, your hand igniting a trail of fire on his skin. He watched as your hand moved down his chest, down his stomach, to the buckle of his belt. A wave of heat washed over him, making his entire body shiver with anticipation.

“Patience,” he echoed, his voice a rough whisper. “You're… You're killing me.”

You gently hooked your finger under the belt. “Can I?”

Matt nodded, his eyes locked on yours, his breathing shallow and ragged. He trusted you completely and wanted you to take whatever you needed from him. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “Do whatever you want. I'm all yours.”

“So good for me,” you praised before expertly unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans down.

Matt's heart leaped at your praise, a sense of pride and satisfaction filling him. He lifted his hips slightly, helping you pull his jeans down. He was now only in his boxer briefs, the material doing little to conceal his arousal. He was completely exposed, both physically and emotionally, and he could do nothing but lay there and look up at you, his desire for you burning in his gaze.

“Only for you,” he whispered, his voice a quiet admission.

“Already so worked up for me, huh?” you asked breathlessly, a small smile on your face.

Matt blushed at your comment, the heat spreading across his cheeks. He could feel the evidence of his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. He was so worked up, so needy, so desperate for your touch. He swallowed hard, his voice husky and raw.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on yours. “Only for you. I want you so badly, sweetheart.”

You sat back on his lap, caressing his cheek. “You want to try to take off my bra, baby?”

Matt's eyes widened at your suggestion, a mix of excitement and anxiety washing over him. He'd never taken off a bra before, and he was suddenly unsure of himself. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“Yes,” he rasped, his voice betraying his nervousness. “I… I want to try.”

His hands moved to your back, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the clasp of your bra. He tried to steady his breathing, but his heart was racing, his mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings.

“I… I'll probably be bad at this,” he admitted, his voice a hesitant whisper.

“It's okay,” you assured him softly. “I don't mind.”

Matt nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He fumbled with the clasp for a few seconds, his fingers feeling both clumsy and inadequate. But finally, with a soft click, the bra came undone. The cups fell loose, revealing your bare chest to him. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes wide, his breath caught in his throat.

“Oh… Wow,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desire.

You smiled a little sheepishly.

Matt's eyes drank you in, every inch of your beautiful skin, every curve and contour. His hands were itching to touch you, to feel your flesh under his fingertips.

“You are… You are so exquisite,” he breathed, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and admiration. “You take my breath away.”

Noticing his hands twitching, your smile softened. “You can touch me.”

Matt couldn't believe you were actually giving him permission to touch you, to touch this beautiful woman who was willingly sitting on his lap, your body bare for him. He lifted his hands, his fingers hovering slightly above your skin.

“I… I want to,” he breathed, his voice a shaky whisper. He wanted to feel you so badly, but he was also afraid of doing something wrong, of upsetting you in some way. “Are you… Are you sure it's okay?”

“I am. Don't think so much. Just… Feel.”

Matt took a deep breath, allowing the words to sink in. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting go of the nagging thoughts and doubts in his mind. When he opened them again, his gaze was clear, his expression relaxed.

And then he touched you.

His fingers skimmed lightly over your skin, slowly, delicately, exploring the soft planes of your chest. A shiver ran through him as he felt the heat of your flesh, the suppleness of your skin.

“God, you're so soft,” he whispered.

Sensing that he was still holding back, You smiled softly and grabbed his hand, putting it directly on your breast, and gently squeezing his fingers.

Matt gasped, his breath hitching in his throat as your hand guided his. The feeling of your flesh, your breast, under his palm was almost too much. It was so soft, so warm. He could feel your heart beating rapidly under his fingers. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh God,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “This… This feels… Incredible.”

His fingers traced a slow, tentative path over your breast, his touch firm but gentle. He could feel your own heart hammering against his palm, a perfect rhythm. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

“Is… Is this okay?” he breathed, his voice a low, raspy whisper. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“It's okay,” you assured him softly. “I'll tell you if anything. Just… Touch me.”

Matt nodded tightly, the lump in his throat suddenly replaced by a wave of desire and need. He took your words to heart, letting go of any lingering doubt or fear. He allowed himself to really touch you, to move his fingers over your skin, to feel the contours of your body.

His other hand moved up to your other breast, gently kneading it in his palm. “Is… Is this good?” he whispered, his voice almost inaudible over the sound of his own heartbeat. “You feel… So perfect, so soft.”

You let out a shaky breath. “So good.”

Matt felt a sense of power and satisfaction wash over him, emboldening him. He could feel your breath catching in your chest, hear the hitch in your voice. He knew he was doing something right, something that made you feel good. He continued to caress you, his touch becoming more confident, more sure of itself.

His breath felt hot and heavy, his heart hammering against his ribcage. “Can I… Can I kiss these, too?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

You felt a sudden rush of so much love for this boy. “Of course. Anything you want.”

Matt's heart soared at your permission, at the way you were giving yourself to him so completely. You were so wonderful, so understanding. He leaned forward, his lips coming to rest on your breast, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. He was gentle at first, his touch light and tentative. But then he began to kiss you more firmly, more hungrily.

And then, a moan of his name escaped your lips.

Matt's heart leaped at the sound of your moan, the way you said his name. It was like music to his ears. He pulled back slightly, looking up at you with a mixture of awe and desire.

“Did… Did I do something right?” he asked, his voice breathless and shaky. “The way you said my name… It sounded… It sounded like it felt good, like you liked it.”

“You're doing… Incredible,” you whispered breathlessly.

Matt felt a surge of pride and satisfaction coursing through him. He couldn't believe this was actually happening, that he was pleasuring this incredible woman, making you feel this way. But the knowledge that he was pleasing you, making you moan and breathless, only fueled his own desire, his own need for you.

He continued to kiss you, his mouth moving across your chest, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. “More,” he murmured, his voice low and ragged. “Can I… Can I do more?”

“Anything.”

Matt felt a wave of heat and adrenaline wash over him at your word, your permission. Anything? The possibilities, the desires, raced through his mind. He wanted to explore you, to touch you, to make you feel things you'd never felt before.

His mouth moved down your body, his tongue tracing a path down your sternum, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your stomach. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of need. “Can I… Can I taste you?”

You pulled yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He looked so pretty, looking up at you from between your thighs. But it was his first time, and you wanted to make it special do him. “Are you sure? I want it to be about you. You don't have to…”

Matt paused, looking up at you. Your concern for him, your consideration, made his heart swell. He could feel your gaze on him, warm and gentle. He knew you would never force him to do something he wasn't ready for. But he could also feel his own desire burning beneath the surface.

He nodded, his voice steady and sure. “I'm sure,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “I… I want to. I want to taste you. I want to please you… If you're okay with that.”

You nodded shakily, before bunching up the fabric of your skirt in your hands, pulling it down and revealing your little lacy panties.

Matt's eyes widened at the sight before him. Your panties were a beautiful lace, delicate and feminine. He could feel his mouth go dry, his heart quickening in his chest. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with an almost reverent awe.

His hands tentatively moved up from your thighs, tracing gentle patterns on your bare skin as they crept closer to your panties. “You're so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice laced with need and desire.

He leaned forward, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His hands were still tracing feather-light patterns on your thighs, but he was now just millimeters away from your underwear. His heart was hammering, his mind a cacophony of emotions and sensations. “May I… May I touch you there?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“Please,” you whispered breathlessly, your chest already heaving.

Matt didn't need to be told twice. With a mixture of nerves and confidence, he let his fingers graze across the fabric of your panties, just touching the soft material. He could feel the heat radiating from you, the moisture already seeping through. He swallowed hard, his own body responding to the feel of you.

His gaze flicked up to your eyes momentarily, seeking reassurance, before returning to his task. “Is… Is this right?” he whispered, his voice a little shaky.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. “Perfect.”

Matt felt a rush of relief and satisfaction at your words. He was doing well, making you feel good. He continued to touch you, to move his fingers across the fabric of your panties, feeling the heat and the dampness beneath.

As his touch grew more confident, more assured, he found himself getting more and more excited. His own breathing grew shaky, his heart racing. “Can… Can I do more?” he breathed, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Whatever you want,” you mewled. “I'll tell you if anything.”

Matt's heart fluttered at your response. The trust, the permission, it was almost too good to be true. He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But all he found was love, desire, and a willingness to explore.

He took a breath, trying to steady himself. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky. He moved his fingers down to the edge of your panties, toying with the thin strip of fabric. “I… I want to touch you without these in the way…”

He paused, waiting for your permission. He was already so close, already feeling the heat and dampness of your through the thin fabric, but he wouldn't do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire but laced with the need for your approval.

You nodded. “Do whatever you want.”

Matt felt a shudder run through him at your words. Your permission, your trust in him, it was like fuel for the fire that was burning within him. He gently pulled at your panties, guiding them down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

The sight of you, bare and fully exposed to him, was almost too much. His breath caught in his throat, and he had to force himself to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed. His fingers itched to touch you, to feel the smoothness and heat of your skin, but he waited, looking up for your nod of approval.

When you gave it, he moved quickly. His fingers traced a path up your thighs, moving closer and closer to your core. His own breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest, and he struggled to keep his hands from shaking as they got closer and closer to the most intimate part.

His fingers grazed over your skin, feeling the heat radiating off of you. He could feel the wetness there, the evidence of your arousal, and he couldn't help but shudder. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and hungry, his tongue flicking out to moisten his suddenly dry lips.

“You're… You're so wet,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips.

Your breath hitched. “Only for you.”

His heart leaped at hearing your words, at the idea that he was the only cause of your arousal. He could feel the power and the responsibility that came with it, and it only stoked the fire within him.

His fingers were now tracing gentle circles around your entrance, his touch light and tentative. He couldn't believe he was doing this, touching you this way. “Can… Can I… Can I put a finger inside?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Yeah,” you whispered shakily. “Please.”

Matt could feel his breath catch in his chest at your words, at the desire in your voice. His whole body was trembling, almost overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment. He nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes fixed on you.

He gently, carefully, eased a single finger inside, a choked gasp escaping his lips as he felt your warmth and wetness around him. As he moved his finger, You suddenly let out a gasp.

Matt was instantly worried, his finger freezing in place. “Did… Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice full of concern. He looked up at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“N-No, it's just…” Your face flushed. “Your fingers are longer than what I'm used to.”

Matt felt a sudden rush of pride at your words, his chest swelling. He had to admit, he'd always been a bit self-conscious about his long thin fingers. But the idea that they were causing her pleasure, that they were giving her a feeling you weren’t used to, that felt incredible.

He curled his finger slightly, exploring your depth. “Is… Is this okay…?”

Your breath hitched as he reached that one spot, and you almost screamed out loud. “Oh my…”

Matt was surprised by your reaction, the sound you made nearly sending him over the edge. But he was determined to make you feel good, to make you feel better than you'd ever felt before.

He kept his finger where it was, gently applying pressure to that one spot, a smirk on his face. “Is this the right spot, hm?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt,” you mumbled in pleasure.

Matt couldn't help but smile at your reaction, at the way you responded to his touch. He couldn't believe he was doing this to you, causing you to feel these things. And he couldn't resist the urge to tease you a little bit.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his voice low and dripping with barely restrained desire.

“Add a second finger,” you instructed him softly. “And try to move them, curling them to hit that spot.”

At your instructions, Matt felt another wave of arousal wash over him. You were telling him what to do. You were guiding him, showing him how to please you. It was a new experience, but one he was more than happy to explore.

He obeyed, slowly adding a second finger to the first. The feeling was tighter, but also warmer. He began to move his fingers, just as you'd told him to.

The angle was a little clumsy at first, but then he felt that one spot, and he applied gentle pressure, curling his fingers at just the right angle. “Like…” he started, his voice a little breathless. “… like this?”

“Oh fuck…” you moaned, your back arching a little in pleasure.

Matt found himself breathing harder at the sight of you arching your back, at the way you were responding to his touch. He knew he was doing something right, and it only fueled his desire to please you more, to make you feel even better.

“Is… Is this good?” he asked, his voice a little shaky. “Does this feel good?”

“So good, fuck, so good…”

Matt's heart was racing, his breath coming in heavy pants. He loved hearing your praise, and the way you reacted to his touch. It was something he'd never felt before, and he wanted more, wanted to make you feel even better.

He kept his fingers moving and applying pressure, his gaze darting up to your face, watching your expressions. “I want you… I want you to feel… To feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of breathless and earnest.

Your noises of pleasure, your arches, and your moans, it was all driving him wild. He wanted to make you fall apart, to make you forget everything but him and whatever he was doing to you.

“You… You want to try to use your mouth?” you asked breathlessly in between the moans.

Matt's heart quickened at your request. He'd wanted to do that, too, but he hadn't been sure if you'd be okay with it. But now that you'd asked, he was more than happy to comply.

“Yes,” he responded, his voice hoarse with desire. “I… I want to. I want to taste you, too.”

He gently withdrew his fingers and slowly moved further down your body, his heart thudding in his chest. He settled between your legs, looking up at you as his breath came in hot, uneven pants against you.

As he tasted you, as he felt you against his lips, his tongue, his mind was overwhelmed. He hadn't expected this, but it was better than he'd ever imagined. You tasted sweet and tangy, and it only spurred him on.

He forgot about feeling out of his depth, he forgot about potential mistakes or awkward moments. All he wanted to do was pleasure you, to make you feel good. His tongue moved and explored, and his eyes fluttered up at you. He'd never seen you so undone, so lost in pleasure, and the knowledge that he was causing it only deepened his desire to please you more.

“God, you're so good at that,” you breathed out shakily.

Matt felt a wave of pride and pleasure wash over him at your words. He continued, his tongue moving over you, his lips applying gentle suction. Hearing your approval, feeling you respond beneath him, was intoxicating. But he was relentless, determined to bring you to the brink, to make you lose control completely.

His hands moved up, gently caressing your thighs and stomach, seeking to give you even more pleasure. He wanted you to feel good, to feel loved, to feel worshipped.

And eventually, your moans got even louder as you released on his mouth, his name on your lips like a prayer. Matt could feel your body shaking, could hear your voice as you cried out his name. It was a moment he knew he'd never forget, a moment that would be ingrained in his memory forever.

He slowly withdrew, crawling back up beside you. He couldn't seem to find his voice, his heart still hammering in his chest.

He was a little amazed at himself, too, he had to admit. He hadn't been entirely sure what he was doing, but he'd just seemed to know. He'd found a way to bring you pleasure, to send you over the edge, to make you sing his name like a song.

He found his voice again, his voice low, rough. “Was that… Was that good for you? Was I okay?” His heart was still beating fast, his body thrumming with a mix of adrenaline and pleasure.

“God, you're… You're unreal,” you panted out.

Matt couldn't help but smile at your words, the praise fueling his ego. “I… I am?” he asked, unable to hide the slight tone of smugness in his voice. He knew he should feel more humbled, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.

He reached out, gently tracing random patterns on your bare stomach as you caught your breath. “I just… I wanted to make you feel good,” he said softly.

When you came down from your high, you sat up to rest their foreheads against each other. “Are you sure you're ready?”

Matt's heart raced as you asked the question, his mind suddenly flooded with thoughts and worries. Was he ready? He had wanted this, more than anything, but now that the moment was here, he felt a twinge of fear.

He looked into your eyes, searching for reassurance. But all he saw was love, desire, and a willingness to wait if he wasn't ready yet.

He nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Yes,” he murmured. “I'm ready.”

In response, you locked their lips in a passionate kiss, one full of love.

Matt responded eagerly, his body pressing against yours as their mouths met in a passionate kiss. Every thought, every fear, was pushed aside in that moment. All that mattered was you, your breath, your lips, your bodies.

His hands found their way into your hair, tangling in the soft strands, holding you close. He poured all of his feelings, all of his desires into the kiss, his heart hammering in his chest.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as he felt your fingers slide under the waistband of his boxers, the sensation causing a shudder to run through his body. He'd been on edge ever since you'd started, his desire already at a fever pitch. But your touch, your gentle caress, only served to drive him wild.

He pulled back from the kiss to murmur against your mouth. “Please…” he whispered, his voice ragged and pleading. “Please, don't tease me anymore. I can't take it.”

You let out a shaky groan before pulling his boxers down, seeing him fully exposed for the first time. You took a moment to really take him in, your eyes full of awe and love.

Matt's cheeks burned under your gaze, feeling suddenly very exposed and vulnerable. He'd never been looked at this way before, never felt this vulnerable. But he also felt a wave of affection at the awe and love he saw in your eyes.

He met your gaze, his own eyes full of a mixture of desire and trepidation. “Is… Is it okay?” he asked softly, his voice betraying a hint of insecurity.

“You're so beautiful,” you praised breathlessly. “So perfect.”

Matt felt his heart soar at your words, the insecurities fading away and being replaced with a wave of intense love. No one had ever called him beautiful before, and certainly not perfect. He'd always felt a bit too thin, too gangly, too nerdy. But to you, he was beautiful, perfect.

He drew in a shaky breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So are you,” he murmured. “Perfect, I mean.”

You reached to gently caress his cheek. “Sit up against the headboard for me.”

At your request, Matt obeyed, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. He felt bare and exposed, but he trusted you and knew that you wouldn't do anything to make him feel uncomfortable.

His gaze met yours, his heart beating fast in his chest. “Like this?” he asked, his voice a little breathless.

“Perfect,” you praised before straddling his lap once again.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as you straddled him, your body pressing against his in all the right places. His hands found your hips, his fingers gently gripping them, as if he needed something to anchor himself.

His eyes roamed over your body, appreciating every curve and contour, before coming back up to meet your gaze. “You… You look amazing,” he breathed, his voice a little huskier than usual.

The corner of your lips went up as you rested your forehead against his, just looking into his eyes for a few moments. You were so close now, the heat and electricity between them palpable. Matt found himself getting lost in your eyes, feeling a sense of calm and understanding wash over him. He could feel your breath against his lips, your body pressed against his, and it was almost too much to bear.

He reached up a hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers feather-light against your skin. “I… I love you,” he whispered, the words coming out almost involuntarily.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, and your eyes reflected just how much.

Matt felt your words wash over him, the depth and sincerity of your love sending a shiver down his spine. He'd always known you loved him, but hearing you say it, seeing it in your eyes… It was as if all his fears and doubts vanished completely.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in, letting himself bask in your love. Then, his eyes opened again, his gaze intense, and he wrapped his arms more securely around your waist. “Show me,” he whispered. “Show me how much you love me.”

“You ready?” you made sure quietly.

Matt felt a flutter of nerves mix with the desire he was feeling, but he nodded, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter. “Yes,” he breathed in response, his voice a little shaky. “I… I'm ready.”

“If anything… Just tell me, and we can stop,” you promised.

Matt nodded again, appreciating your thoughtfulness. “I will,” he assured you. “But please… Please don't stop unless I say so.”

He drew you closer, his hands sliding up to your back, gently tracing the line of your spine. “I… I want this. I want you,” he murmured, his voice a low, earnest plea.

Matt shivered slightly as your hand moved over his chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His heart was beating hard, his breath coming in shaky gasps. He'd never felt this alive before, this on edge, this desperate for your touch.

His eyes tracked your hand as it moved, a small, helpless noise escaping his lips. He knew what was coming, and he was aching for it.

Finally, your hand wrapped around him, giving him a few slow pumps. Your touch was like a spark to a flame, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't known was possible. He groaned, his head falling back against the headboard, his eyes squeezing shut as the sensations washed over him.

His hips involuntarily arched into your touch, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter.

“Oh… Oh God, that feels…” he gasped, his voice choked. “That feels so good,” he managed to stutter out, his words a raw expression of pleasure.

The feeling of your hand on him was overwhelming, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He could feel his body tensing and relaxing instinctively.

You positioned yourself above him, and you looked him in the eyes as if to ask for one last permission.

Matt's heart thudded in his chest as he looked into your eyes. He knew what was about to happen, and he wanted it, more than anything. He didn't want you to stop, he wanted you, all of you.

He nodded, his voice unsteady as he spoke. “Please,” he whispered, his breath ragged. “Please, don't stop.”

And then, you slowly started to sink down. The sensation was almost too much for Matt. It was like a wave of pleasure and heat overwhelming his entire body. He let out a low, guttural moan as you slowly sank down, inch by agonizing inch.

He clung to you, his hands gripping your hips with an almost bruising force. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted as he panted for breath. “Oh… Oh God,” he managed to say, the words a messy, incoherent jumble.

His mind was reeling, every thought driven out by the sheer intensity of the feeling. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, like nothing he could have imagined. You were warm, tight, and completely surrounding him, and it was everything.

He knew he was probably being too rough, too loud, but he couldn't help it. He was utterly lost in the sensations, losing himself in you. He was yours, totally and completely, and he loved every moment.

As you bottomed out, you rested your hands on his shoulders for support. “You okay, baby?”

Matt was trying to form words, to give some sort of response, but all he could manage was a series of ragged breaths and a nod. He was trying to ground himself, to stay in control, but it was nearly impossible.

He managed to open his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I… I'm… I'm okay,” he gasped out, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just… Just give me a second, please.”

You felt incredible around him, almost too good. He needed a moment to adjust, to find some sort of equilibrium, or he knew he'd lose himself completely.

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to steady himself. “You… You feel so… So good," he managed to get out between ragged breaths. He was struggling to find his voice, to express how he was feeling. “Just… Just give me a moment, please…”

“Of course. Take all the time you need,” you whispered, your hand gently caressing his cheek.

Your touch was like a soothing balm on his over-stimulated body. He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand, drawing in a shaky breath. He focused on the feeling of your fingers on his skin, your body surrounding him, anchoring himself to you. Slowly, the overwhelming sensations began to recede, replaced by a calmer, more controlled sense of pleasure.

He opened his eyes again, his gaze meeting yours. “I'm… I'm okay now,” he murmured. “You can... you can move now.”

You leaned in to press your lips against his before slowly starting to move your hips.

The feeling of your lips on his was like a jolt through his system, reigniting the fire that had been momentarily banked. He responded eagerly, his mouth moving against yours, his tongue caressing yours with an urgent need.

And then there was the movement of your hips. It was a gentle, careful circling motion, bringing him closer and closer to oblivion. Matt let out a guttural moan, his hands gripping your hips even tighter.

It was all too much, but he couldn't get enough of it. He felt like he was drowning in you, lost in the sensations of your body, your touch, your scent. He knew he was being loud, almost embarrassingly so, but he couldn't help it. He was completely yours, completely lost in you.

“Does that feel good, baby?” You asked breathlessly.

Matt could barely respond, too lost in the pleasure to string coherent words together. All he could do was nod, his voice choked off by a moan that tore its way from his throat.

He tried to form words, to tell you how good it felt, how incredible you were, but all that came out was a ragged gasp. “Y-yeah,” he managed to stutter out eventually, his voice hoarse. “Feels… Feels so good…”

You pressed their foreheads together before starting to move a little faster, moans escaping your own lips.

The change in speed made Matt's head spin. He felt like he was on the edge of an abyss, his body tensing and coiling with each move of your hips. He was a tangle of sensations, pleasure, need, and love, all swirling together.

He kept his eyes open, locking them with yours. Your moans, your ragged breaths, only amplified the sensations. He knew he was close, too close, but he didn't want it to end.

His hands left your hips, moving up to cradle your face in his hands. He needed to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingers, to hold onto you as he rode the wave of pleasure higher and higher.

“I… I'm close… I'm gonna… Oh God, I'm…”

You understood exactly what he meant, the urgency in his tone clear. Your movements became faster and more purposeful, pushing them both closer to the edge.

“I know, baby,” you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. “I know. Just let go. I've got you.”

Your words sent a shiver down his spine, the mixture of love and reassurance hitting him right in the chest. He wanted to hold on, to make this last as long as possible, but he knew it was impossible. He was on the edge, teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

“Baby…” he gasped, his voice thin and needy. “I… I'm… Oh God, I'm… I'm…”

He couldn't say the words, couldn't form the warning. All he could do was shiver as his body went rigid, waves of pleasure washing over him. He held onto you, his fingers digging into your flesh, as he rode out the aftershocks.

At the sensation of him releasing deep inside of you, you reached your climax as well, your back arching, and you let out a loud cry of his name. He felt you clenching around him, your own release as you cried out his name, and it was too much. He felt like he was being lifted into ecstasy, drowning in the sensations that swamped his body.

His hands moved to wrap around you, holding you close, feeling the tremors run through your body. He buried his face in the curve of your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Oh God… Oh God…” he managed to say.

“I… I've never… That was…”

He couldn't complete a sentence, his mind reeling from the intensity of it all. He held onto you, feeling the rapid throb of your heartbeat against his chest, the heat of your skin against his, and the sweat that had gathered on both their bodies.

After You finally caught your breath, you looked at him, still straddling him, as you ran your hand through his hair. “Are you okay, baby?”

Matt was still reeling, his body trembling slightly from the force of his orgasm. He leaned into your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raw. “I'm… I'm okay. I just… I need a minute. That was… Wow.”

“You were perfect,” you said softly before lifting yourself from him and falling onto the bed next to him.

He chuckled weakly, still struggling to catch his breath. “Perfect, huh? I'm pretty sure I yelled louder than you did. I think the whole neighborhood heard me,” he teased, half-joking and half-not.

You chuckled breathlessly. Matt, however, could only stare in wonder at how his seed was leaking out of you.

Matt couldn't tear his gaze away, his eyes fixed on the sight in front of him. He had never seen anything so intimate, so erotic. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers tracing the trail of his release dribbling down your skin.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered. “And I… I made a mess of you.”

Your breath hitched as he touched you, still oversensitive, but you didn't protest. He touched you delicately, his touch light and hesitant, as if he was scared to break the fragile moment. His gaze was filled with a mixture of awe and desire, staring at the evidence of what you have just shared.

“You… You look even more beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Like I've marked you as mine.”

“I am yours,” you whispered.

The words sent a wave of possessiveness through him. “Mine,” he repeated, his voice almost a possessive growl. “All mine.”

He leaned in, pressing feather-light kisses along your jawline, his hands tracing aimless patterns on your skin. “I don't want anyone else seeing you like this," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “I don't want anyone else touching you like I do. You're mine.”

He continued to mark your skin with kisses, his mouth moving along the length of your neck and down to your collarbone. He wanted to keep you like this forever, covered in his marks, in his scent. He knew he was being selfish, but he didn't care. You were his, and he wanted the world to know it.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tangling into his hair.

The feel of your fingers in his hair only served to make him more possessive. He continued to kiss and nip at your skin, leaving a trail of love bites down your neck and chest.

“Mine,” he repeated, his voice almost a mantra. He wanted to keep saying it, as if by repeating it, he could make it more true. “All mine.”

“So… I take that I made your first time good?” you asked, a little jokingly.

Matt chuckled huskily, leaning back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good is an understatement,” he said, his voice still rough with desire. “That was… Mind-blowing. Life-changing.”

He paused, his gaze roaming over your body again, taking in the sight of you covered in his marks. “I think you ruined me for anyone else.”

“Well, I sure hope so,” you murmured before kissing him again.

He responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours with a desperate, needy hunger. He rolled you onto your back, pinning you beneath him, continuing the kiss with a fervor. He didn't want this moment to end, he wanted to revel in the feeling of your body under his, the taste of your mouth, the scent of your skin.

Between kisses, he managed to mutter, “You're the only one. The only one I'll ever need.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re

[misstycloud]

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

-

[sirenscriptures]

princess treatment - mw2 men

✧ synopsis: men who secretly (or not so secretly) live for treating you like royalty. even in the most mundane or difficult of times, you are their personal sanctuary.

۶♡ৎ featuring: johnny “soap” mactavish, simon “ghost” riley, captain john price, alejandro vargas, and könig.

before you read: female reader, sub reader, lots and lots of body worship, praise, soft sex, a little dacryphilia if u squint, breeding, cockwarming, cunnilingus, hair pulling, fingering, mirror sex, use of pet/endearment names.

۶♡ৎ johnny “soap” mactavish ۶♡ৎ

✧ if there’s a man who is never ashamed to spoil you in any way he can, it’s johnny. ever since you two made it official he was all over the idea of showing you off and spoiling you to no end.

✧ outside of combat and missions, you can bet he dedicates so much of his time to you–his sweet girl.

✧ god help you if he comes home from a longer mission. you will not be able to pry him away from you for days. it’s not like you mind at all, though. his kisses are everything you wanted, so weighted and passionate, and he’s not even fully through the threshold of the front door when he first sees you again.

✧ his hands are already nestled in your hair, pressing your back against the wall as his tongue slips into your mouth. with his warm breath tickling your mouth, you can’t help but let out one of the sweetest whimpers he’s ever heard. god, it never fully occurred to him how much he loved to make you whine for him.

✧ “oh banphrionsa…” he murmurs, lips moving down to your sensitive neck. “i missed you.”

✧ “i missed you, too…” you stammer out feebly, the heat rising within your cheeks. your already flustered expression sparks a familiar fire within him as he moves you into his arms, carrying you towards your shared bedroom.

✧ it doesn’t take much to get you both out of your clothes, yet johnny still can’t get over how good you look. every time he gets to see you like this, it doesn’t matter how many times, he still gets so excited over it.

✧ “shit, baby…” he murmurs, peppering kisses on your upper body as he climbs on top of you. “you make me so crazy, y’know that?”

✧ nodding, you can’t help but give him that flirty smile that he loves so much. his lips crash onto yours again, tongue relishing the taste of your mouth. meanwhile, his hands are admiring your bare body as if you’re a rare jewel.

✧ even when just kissing you, it’s clear soap adores you in every way possible. it’s evident in the way he touches, kisses, and fucks you. he never wastes a single moment with you, and is always making sure you know just how special you are.

✧ even in between thrusts, his hands and words always ensure you’re reminded that you’re his special girl—his princess. the feeling of him stretching out your walls as he continually praises you is enough to draw you to tears—from both overstimulation and emotion.

✧ when he can tell you’re close to an orgasm, he pulls you closer into him even more, thrusts going deeper and deeper each moment. “i love you so much, sweetheart.” he groans, seed sputtering inside of you as your back arches against his chest, the sweetest moans flowing from your lips as you finish along with him.

۶♡ৎ simon “ghost” riley ۶♡ৎ

✧ for someone so reserved as simon, it was no surprise how much he valued your time alone together.

✧ in the past, he really preferred to be by himself when he had the time to spare. he always felt most himself when he wasn’t around too many people. but over time, it became natural that you were with him in these moments that brought him great peace.

✧ but past all things missions and duty, he deeply cherished when he got to be home alone with you. that way, he felt completely devoted to treating you the way you always deserved: like royalty.

✧ well, his version of royalty in this sense was a bit different than the conventional meaning of the term. but, in true simon fashion, it was quite fitting. and plus, he knew you loved it.

✧ the way he held you so perfectly in front of the mirror, hands caressing your body as his cock plunged in and out of you, he made sure you felt within every inch that you were all his.

✧ with your walls fluttering around him, you made it so much harder for him to hold back. simon knew you felt the same, the way your breaths depleted to mere shudders, your eyes glazing over with the faintest hint of tears.

✧ gently, his hand cupped under your chin, making you stare at your delicate frame against his broad chest. “now, now, sweet girl…” he purrs, breath tingling on your neck.

✧ “i can’t have you breaking on me now, can i?” his slightly raspy tone is loving, yet teasing you at the same time as a calloused thumb swipes away a tear streaking down your cheek. simon has always hated seeing you cry, but when he can make you cry from pure pleasure, you can bet that makes him feel on top of the world.

✧ “i need you to see how pretty you are, love.” you don’t even have to see his full face to feel his smirk against you. not even his full coverage mask could hide that from you on his best day.

✧ there is a sense of pride in his gaze as he looks at you through your reflection. with his hand under your chin, your expression is absolutely priceless. your glassed-over, desperate eyes practically plead for more, and your kiss-swollen lips are still as irresistible as ever. he can’t hide how proud he is that he’s made a mess of you–his sweet girl.

✧ “there you are, princess.” he teases, watching you stare at yourself in a daze. his thrusts are slow in and out of you as a free hand rubs and pinches at your nipples. your head falls back onto his shoulder, another broken moan falling from your agape mouth. simon feels you clenching around him again, the feeling earning a growl from him.

✧ but still, his thrusts remain tender and slow, ensuring you feel every part of him. as much as he’d love to ravage you with rough, fast thrusts, he loves your reactions to his deep, slow pace far too much in this moment. plus, this was all about your pleasure.

✧ it isn’t long before his warm seed is ribboning inside you, eventually dribbling down your quivering thighs as your orgasm joins with his own. your noises are so sweet, something he can never get enough of. and the look of you is enough to make him fall in love with you thousands of times over.

✧ he smiles at you, lips colliding messily with yours, admiring how warm your face is as he holds you. “you did so well for me,” he murmurs, breathing in your comforting scent. “my pretty girl.”

۶♡ৎ john price ۶♡ৎ

✧ believe it or not, captain price could be quite the romantic type. though, as a man with such a stoic position as a captain, that side never got much of a chance to reveal itself. unless, of course, he was alone with his favorite woman in the world…

✧ getting to see him in such a rare position felt so special to you. he was so sweet and gentle with you, it always found a way to make you swoon. and you bet price adored having that effect over you.

✧ the fact his mere touch could make you melt beneath him was enthralling, and definitely made him want more. of course, what better way to do that than to spoil you, right? after all, that was his favorite thing to do when he had his time with you.

✧ but it was his absolute favorite when he could be in between your legs, and he could stay there for hours. the feeling of you squirming beneath him had so many ways of making him feral for you, and he knew you loved it when he got to that point.

✧ while his tongue swirled over your sensitive clit, he could feel your hips bucking into his face ever so slightly, your noises growing louder each moment. you could hardly contain yourself any longer, and price adored every second of it.

✧ every few minutes, he would lay sweet kisses over your folds, fingers teasing your entrance from time to time. “sweetheart, you have no idea the things you do to me…” he breathes out, suckling at the sensitive bud again.

✧ your back starts to arch at his words, hands gripping tightly at the sheets. price lets out a satisfied chuckle as his fingers finally push inside your wetness. the feeling of your walls is just as he expects: heavenly. you’re so warm and welcoming to his fingers, it's almost hard for him not to push himself into you as a whole right then and there.

✧ “close already, yeah?” he teases, mouth still working at you, his fingers doing the same. the look in your eye confirms that for him, making his blood rush with excitement as your bottom lip hooks beneath your teeth.

✧ he smirks at you from between your legs. “well, allow me to help with that, angel.” price let his fingers curl inside of you towards your sweet spot, earning a strangled cry from you, your back arching even more.

✧ as his tongue slithered about your wetness, he marveled at the way you tightened around his fingers, especially when you released yourself. you sounded so sweet, and he couldn’t deny he wanted more of that from you.

✧ his lips finally met with yours, pulling your body close to his again. though, he was nowhere near done with you, he knew he wanted to admire you in this pleasure-filled haze just a bit more…

۶♡ৎ alejandro vargas ۶♡ৎ

✧ despite his roughened, at times crass exterior, alejandro had no problem showing his soft, vulnerable side to you and only you. he seldom ever let that gentle side slip outwards in front of just anybody, so you considered yourself lucky to have grown this close to him.

✧ besides, nothing could ever beat having those hypnotic dark eyes and that charming smile of his directed at you, and only you.

✧ but there was something about that certain…look you gave him in these moments that filled him with an endless desire to please you and spoil your body in so many different ways. it was that sweet, almost innocent look with a small lip bite that could make him fold you over in a matter of seconds.

✧ one thing about alejandro is that he preferred when he could take his time with you. he was the last one who wanted a quickie or something short. if he was going to pleasure his love, he was going to make sure you felt it.

✧ so when he has you sprawled out on the bed, cockwarming him as he caresses every inch of you, he can’t help but tease you just a bit from time to time. your whole body responds to him so perfectly, it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. can you really blame him?

✧ “ale…” you mewl out shakily, the feeling of his lips on your neck nearly pushing you over the edge. he smirks at you, hands continuing to massage your breasts. “hmm?” he hums against your skin, still leaving pretty marks all over you.

✧ you can barely even form words in this state. “mmmh, need you…” you stagger, breath hitching as his tongue starts to swirl around your protruding nipple.

✧ “you need to use your words, mi vida.” he presses a kiss to your neck again, taking you by the chin gently so he can stare at you properly. “what do you need from me?”

✧ alejandro’s gaze is soft yet still commanding, easily sending a shiver down your back. you take a breath, cupping his face in your hand. “i…need you to fuck me, please.” you manage, that sweet look that drove him feral still in your eyes.

✧ his lips press messily against you, a hand wrapping around your neck now. “que educada, princesa.” he chuckles, admiring how you tremble beneath him as he starts to move.

✧ his growls only add to your pleasure as he pushes deep inside you, your walls responding with a warm clench, making his grip on your hips tighter. you can feel your orgasm growing closer, moans growing shaky and incoherent.

✧ listening to his name fall so shattered from your lips pushed him over the edge, cum spilling into you as he watched in awe as your legs trembled and you clenched around him a final time.

✧ between warm, breathless kisses, he smiles at you again. “you’re so good to me, amor.” he says, pulling you close to his chest.

۶♡ৎ könig ۶♡ৎ

✧ in all honesty, könig has no idea how he got so lucky to have you. you were everything and more he could’ve ever asked for in a woman.

✧ even though he was far from inexperienced in the world of relationships and intimacy, you had a way of making him feel like it was the first time in every moment he got to spend with you.

✧ but some of his favorite moments came from when he got to spoil you. it didn’t matter if it was taking a lazy day where you stayed home or in bed for hours in the late morning, or if he was taking you out to one of your favorite places, as long as he was in your company, he was more than content.

✧ but if he had to pick an absolute favorite pastime with you… it had to be when he was able to worship you from head to toe.

✧ there was something so enthralling for both of you, having such a large man, in nothing but his boxers, on his knees in front of you, kissing every single inch of you as you sat on the bed, staring down in admiration.

✧ könig’s gentle expression as he looks up at you still has the power to give you butterflies even after being together for so long. the closer his mouth gets to the fabric of your underwear, he gives you a look until you eventually nod, making his lips spread into a smile.

✧ peeling the fabric to the side, his tongue swirls over your wetness. your back arches in response, head falling back as you let a moan escape. hearing you in this state drives him even further, pulling you by your hips against his face.

✧ even when you’re trembling, he continues. your moans have broken down to shaky sobs as he tonguefucks you, his growls vibrating against you. he can’t get enough of your taste, even when you’ve already come for him.

✧ eventually, he pulls away, licking his lips before kissing a trail up your stomach. his eyes stare into yours lovingly, fingers running through your hair.

✧ “you did so well, meine liebe.” he praises, kissing your neck before smirking. “but i’m nowhere near done with you.”

“banphrionsa” = princess, “mi vida” = my life, “que educada, princesa.” = how polite, princess. “meine liebe” = my love.

written by sirenscriptures. do not repost on any other website. do not translate, copy, or use.

[anantaru]

— his love language

including. diluc, wriothesley, kazuha, neuvillette, ayato, scaramouche, kaeya, childe

genre. fluff & crack, gn! reader

at a regular pace, diluc opens up to you and with such, he reveals that to him actions spoke louder than words, mainly when it came to your loving relationship. the master of the dawn winery wasn't one of sensual speech, in fact, sometimes he was simply at loss of words— hence why showing you instead was all the more easy. it begins in his eyes, how they're always focused on your frame and immediately pick up on when you feel fatigued, the weary expression on your face worrying him the moment you step inside. voicelessly, diluc guides you to your shared bedroom before telling you to relax— afterwards he'll pamper you, boundlessly, do whatever you need him to do even if it consisted of multiple tasks. easy to say, he will still check up on you, be there for you and most importantly, always anticipate your needs, never failing to provide support without hesitation.

everyone knows that words hold the power to uplift and reassure people and their souls, in addition to building bridges between two individuals and so did wriothesley find this to be the most wonderful gift on this planet. he speaks through heartfelt compliments he'd never let you pass on, encouraging affirmations whenever you had a bad day or an artful expression of his emotions through his phrases. within the lively city of fontaine, the man will watch you with earnest eyes and swollen cheeks, "you're so pretty, so beautiful," he was silly, right? making you flustered in front of everyone, yet his words flow like poetry, forcing you to melt as he expressed admiration for your person— a verbal drapery woven with sincerity and love.

since you have been in a relationship for quite a long time, you were aware of kazuha and himself being an adventurer at heart, never failing to perceive solace and joy in the quiet moments shared with you. it doesn't matter where you are, but when he invites you on a journey, you know it's going to end up becoming one of your most dearest memories. in the quietness of the night, kazuha's presence was a calming force and to him, love was found in the gift of uninterrupted time spent together, immersed in meaningful conversations and shared experiences, tender kisses and subtle touches. the connection you had was strong— everlasting, the presence and the beauty within embracing each passing moment.

neuvillette held a lot of personal knowledge which he accumulated throughout the trajectory of his life, although when it came to the relationship aspect of things, he was rather inexperienced. when you two started dating he picked up the habit of expressing himself through physical touch— not necessarily in a sexual way, but in the reassuring kind which brought forth tenderness and closeness, whether it was a hand on your shoulder or a comforting embrace after a long day. the iudex was fluent in intimacy, connection, and the sacred power of making you feel loved in the simplicity of his touch. without wasting time, he always has one arm around you or loved holding your hand as you settle down on his lap, perhaps even offering to massage your shoulders with his soothing touch.

granted, from an outside perspective seeing ayato spoil you with artificial goods might come across as insincere, yet people do not realize that every single gift had a special meaning attached to it. the yashiro commissioner always took it serious, going through the carefully selected goods as he prepared a custom order, securing the gift with a personal meaning and significance. expressing his love for you through gifts and handmade material shone of thoughtfulness and well, there was one necklace that might be your all time favorite. it was when he surprised you with it on your anniversary— and as you inspected it much closer, you admired the complexly designed metal with symbols of his love and the harmony in your relationship— it's utterly beautiful, you tell him as he helped you put the necklace on, the little diamonds attached to it reflecting a deep appreciation and desire to convey his feelings to you.

opening up was hard for scaramouche, yet he realized that if he wanted this relationship with you to be harmonic, he needed to learn and work on it. the moment you feel him open up to you, you couldn't be happier, truly— not only was it a clear sign of effort on his part, but also the willingness to share a hidden piece of himself. despite his rather aloof demeanor, he possessed a subtle way of showing you his trust, in fact, he always needs you to show him that you accept his past no matter what. was it tiresome? not at all, despite some people believing that a relationship like that could become troubling in the future. yet they cannot fathom the deep link you both have and how it came to be. ah well, how beautiful when he holds you in his arms and kisses your forehead before starting to open up, your expression softening momentarily at the calm look in his eyes. it's right there, look close now, when you catch a rare glimpse of appreciation and a hint of vulnerability beneath his composed facade. he's in love, truly, and so are you.

a world without laughter, sounds scary, correct? kaeya believes that everything works more efficiently if you add a little comedy on the side. in your relationship, there was nothing he adored more that laughing together— because in a way, it felt like it strengthened your bond and eased the burdens in your life. spontaneity was another important aspect, you'll never know what the charismatic cavalry captain has in store for you next and you couldn't help but love that about him. really, he had a magical power for defusing tension with a well-timed joke or cheeky banter, finishing it off with messy kisses all over your face and demanding for you to give him a kiss back, in fact, as one might already guess, a world without laughter and without kisses might be straight hell in all of teyvat.

the eleventh harbinger's heart burnt for two different things— first of all it being you, his loved one which he would quite literally do anything for you to be happy, while the second being the thrill of adventure and the willingness to embrace spontaneity, face challenges head-on and earn boastful scars all over his body as a form of trophy. childe's enthusiasm was contagious to the point where the both of you would go on adventures together, or simply try out new things in order to feel a shared sense of adrenaline. freedom was everything in his life, but what mattered the most is for you to be safe— hence why he would never put you in any danger, instead he'd rather get in trouble himself so you could patch him up afterwards. childe knows it's not healthy to get himself hurt on purpose, but feeling you take care of him with your soft hands tracing all over his chest was making it worth it in his eyes.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[serejae]

they dont know about us | c.hansol

pairing : vernon x reader

WHAT ! - being the only person able to read vernon is a strange concept to others, i guess your relationship is unique (in which, your the only person able to read vernons expressions

warnings : kisses, petnames, mentions of the other svt members, mention of dead people, slight skin ship, not proof read, established relationship au

-

WHEN HE HAS A ATTIUDE

seungkwan, vernon, and you were sitting in the middle of seungkwans living room playing uno. things were getting heated since vernon gave you 3 plus 4 uno cards in a row. so in return to help you out, seungkwan gave you a swap card to swap his stack with yours so you could win

“hey, youre suppose to give the stack to me if your gonna place it down” vernon said, to anyone else his tone would be monotone and blank, but to you, you could hear the slight disappointment in his tactic of teaming up on you.

“my house, my rules” seungkwan replied rolled his eyes at vernon protest as he put down a plus 4 card on vernon. vernons mouth slightly opened in shock, after a few seconds of processing he looked over at you.

to the normal eye this wouldve been a man looking over at someone, but to you this was vernons attitude come in. you could read him perfectly, being able to read anything his face shows from visibly to hidden. no matter how he presents his emotions it seems like you could always tell what hes feeling

“dont give me that look just because you wanted me to lose” you yelled slightly, he laughed and shook his head knowing he was caught

“what look?” seungkwan looked up

“you didnt see the reaction on his face after you put down the plus 4?”

“yeah the face of a dead person, he didnt make a face it was just…blank”

“yeah i didnt make a face” vernon teased making you groan

“he did make a face! he was giving me attitude” you defended yourself to a lost seungkwan and a happy vernon

“you both are so weird”

-

WHEN HES SAD

“i dont know where it could be” vernon ran his hand through his hair as he sat down on the couch frustrated, right now, he thinks he has his eyebrows furrowed, a pout and a slight redness to his cheek. but in reality hes just blanked out. like a mannequin, just sitting there with a blank stare

“its fine you could always buy another” dino said sitting on the floor eating off the coffee table in front of vernon.

vernon sighed as he slumped himself into the couch even more. “yn bought it for me, i cant replace it”

“i mean they could always buy you another one”

“but its not the same”

just then you walked in through the door saying hi to dino and vernon. as your eyes drifted to vernon you see him slumped on the couch with a very (in your eyes) big pout on his face. sitting right next to him you caressed his cheek “whats wrong? whats with the look on your face?”

“what look?” dino said as he chewed his food puzzled

“you dont see the big pout on vernons face?” you turned to dino

“no”

“its right there” you pointed at vernons lips where the pout evidently laid

“i think youre seeing things yn”

-

WHEN HES SCARED

vernon had his arm around your shoulder as the movie wrapped up. you could feel the gentle grip he had that tighted at times a jump scare came up.

when the movie finally ended, vernon got up and gave you a hand to help you up, as you held his hand you looked over and saw his scared face, automatically you busted out laughing making dokyeom and joshuw look over at you two

“whats so funny?” dokyeom asked smiling in amusement as he put a piece of popcorn in his mouth

“look at vernons face, hes so scared” you laughed

dokyeom moved his head to look at vernons face and furrowed his eyebrows while looking over at joshua, joshua was just as confused raising his eyebrow.

“yn, vernon does not look scared at all” joshua chuckled observing vernons expression closer

“what do you mean? you dont see his lips quivering?” now it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows

“i think thats your eyes moving really fast…i dont think its his lips” joshua said making dokyeom laugh

-

WHEN HES IN LOVE

all the members sat around the dinner table with their partners at the house party you and vernon were hosting. vernons finger caressed your thigh in a comforting way letting you know he was there. you laid your hand ontop of vernons fingers and whispered to him

“lets go start on the dishes as they talk”

he nods and lets you get up first before following you to the kitchen. the kitchen gave a view of the dining room to you both as well to everyone else. he washed dishes as you dried them, but something about vernon doing dishes in a basic t shirt with his hair down was doing something to you. you stared at him with your pupils dilated as he looked at you with his brown eyes. at this point vernon probably wss scrubbing the same spot 50 times but that was the least of his priorities

“vernon ah, yns looking at you with love and youre looking at her as if she crashed your car” hoshi joked making you and vernon look away

quick to defend him you spoke up

“what do you mean? he was looking at me with love?”

“that isnt love, thats him turning you into stone” scoups laughed

“i swear you guys have to be able to see the expression on his face”

looking around you see no one siding with you

“is vernon gaslighting you?” jeonghan questioned

looking back over at vernon, he was already staring at you just as confused, he shrugged his shoulders and you both continued washing the dishes.

-

WHEN HES VULNERABLE

“i dont get it, why cant they see the emotions on your face like i do?” you complained slightly annoyed as you laid on his chest

vernon hummed as his fingers ran through your hair. “i dunno

but i kinda like it”

“you do?”

“yeah” he replied simply

“it reminds me that youre special to me, that we have a special relationship. youre the only one who can read my emotions, the others cant and dont understand me like you do.

they dont know about us,

i like that its your special superpower

i dont want them to be able to read me like you can

just a me and you thing”

as you listened to his words you looked up at him and could see it in his face that he meant every word. how he cherished each special interaction you both had that no one else understood. because he liked being different, he liked how no one could get him, but he liked it even more how you were the only one who could

so maybe his friends cant read his emotions on his face and maybe they find him weird , but you can and dont

and thats all that matters to him

[louebel]

[ " 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆! " ] — 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): luffy, robin, law, sanji, kidd × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: not proofread 'n quick, lots of fluff! they are all babies. (i KNOW kidd's crew raid fashion stores and complain about them if they're lackin. if. if there's a fic like that pls share in the comments. i BEG you.) also some swearing with kidd!! dripping divider by @ benkeibear like always,, i live for these dividers damn.

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

"you too!!"

you swear his smile widens so much his face is stuck that way.

he is adorable. he smiles every day but hearing you say that? it's exactly what he wants!! he wants people to look at him smiling AND wants them smiling in the process (continuous cycle,,)

it's so easy to notice just how much he loves you saying that. round cheeks tinted pink, eyes shut, and set of teeth shared to the world. he is always so animated with everything he does, and this is no exception.

this little rubber man is immediately engulfing you in his arms!! you are not allowed to leave until he says so.

"i'm gonna make you smile too! forever! that way, we'll both look cute when we smile! shishishi!"

scratch protecting him at all costs. he's gonna protect you at all costs.

if you tell him again, grab his cheeks and shake him as if he were a pupper. if he had a tail it'd be wagging 'till he flies. will probably make all types of noises while you do it.

pat the boi.

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

her smile might be tender but she's giggling internally,, she's flattered!!

"is that so? i'm glad to hear that."

robin gained confidence growing up and she knew she was a gorgeous woman — but hearing it from your lips is still a surprise. sure, she gets compliments on the daily, especially by sanji, but... yours felt much more intimate. she's not blushing because she's flustered or anything, it's just because she loves you. and that comforting warmth in her chest propagated to her neck and face.

it's small moments such as this that remind her of saul's words. each day on the sunny is a reminder, but the little things reinforce those feelings. it was such a wonderful sentiment.

you had no idea what she was thinking about, but the way the corners of her lips eased, your heart jumped too.

she really did look cute while smiling.

"you look pretty, too. smile more often, dear."

she's so lucky to have you. and you're so lucky to have her.

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃. 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐖

dies

you think he looks... cute?

his eyes widen and he just. stops functioning for a moment. his heart feels lighter and funnier than normal, and his smile returns, a bit more timid than before.

"... really?"

"of course!"

he doesn't even believe it— he did notice from time to time how you suddenly just,, softened when he did it but he didn't think you'd like it that much. he doesn't smile a lot, sure there are definitely various moments where he feels at peace with the crew, but they come easier with you

when he showed you his coin collection, when you both took a stroll or when you simply cuddled. law might look scary to those outside — but inside, he is still the small boy whose curiosity shined above all. he is very fond of those he cares about, even if he has trouble expressing his emotions and thoughts to others. the confidence he wore doubled for you and his loyal crewmates, but he deserved rest every once in a while. years of trauma dulled him, however, when he felt something, it was strong; almost as if breaking out of a cage. he kept them deep inside, only to burst and even tremble when he was pampered. he didn't know how to react, and only with time would he grow used to it.

so,, please be patient and take care of him,, he looks after himself with everything else, but he's a lost puppy with love and physical affection. if it doesn't show on his face, his heart definitely speeds up at every small thing you tell him, casual or not.

"thank you."

you see him smile a bit more now. give him any type of compliment, affection, or anything,, and the "cold" surgeon of death will be nothing but putty in your hands.

"and... you too."

he really does love you.

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

dies 2.0

"o- oh... my love! you look adorable smiling, too!"

never-ending swarm of compliments. oh and he's hugging you as if his life depends on it.

he's not really used to the sweet words and might think he's undeserving of them. sure, it's a simple smile... but that's exactly why it gets him so much. something so mundane and common yet you see a unique beauty in his and his alone. others can warm your heart too, but he does it in a different way — in a special way.

if you tell him this in the middle of the night and you're both having a calm and peaceful moment he might cry. (if it's daytime and he's feeling a lil sensitive it's tears of joy mixed with laughter,, please hold him)

he's so happy. he'll smile as much as you want him too. if that gets you to do so too, it's a win-win for everyone!

it's usually clear when he feels affectionate,, he is most of the time. but now it DOUBLES. that comment made his day.

he's so giddy and adorable.

"you light my world up, mon rayon de soleil. if i can do so too with a simple smile... then i shall every day."

𝐄𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐃

mf's smile never dropped so fast.

"the fuck do you mean CUTE??"

was about to throw a fit but then he just. stares at you. so genuine...

"why you lookin' at me like that?? stop. 'm not fuckin' cute."

staaaare...

"... zero point one percent cute. happy? now stop looking like a goddamn puppy."

but you end up smiling even more. and no matter what he thought, his heart still beat a little faster. you looked pretty cute, too.

yes. he's a bit mean sometimes but you know he means well. he's your little man. like, he made you a tiny metal butterfly once so that even if he was busy with designing and crafting you had something to remind you of him. (he sputtered profanities and became as red as his hair before storming off walking in a wall but he still peeked from a corner to see if you liked it. when he saw your pleased expression, he smirked like the lil shit he is.)

plus... deep inside, he appreciated it. you and killer always managed to calm him down.

he truly is grateful.

"urgh. c'mere. let's go get killer 'n the others to raid a store."

...

bonus after the raid: he does your makeup and uses a great lipstick he stole found to really make you pop with the looted new clothes he got for you. hyped you up and grinned like an idiot. he's doing your nails next. killer gave you a thumbs up before finding more products himself,, raiding stores sure is fun!

[uzurakis]

hi again!! (ik I just sent in a request I just had another one LMFAOOO) im back bc I got another request/idea!! jjk men (..yuta n Megumi 🙏 n whoever else u want :3) who got into a nasty argument (could be from ur argument post but it doesn’t have to be connected to that post!!) and then gets really injured on a mission right after the argument! it’s up to you if reader + jjk men end up making up, or it could end on a angsty route of them anxiously waiting for reader to wake up while trying to think to ways to apologize with regret; doesn’t rlly matter!! do what you want 😛😛

HEY, WAKE UP . . PLEASE?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. first, i apologize this one took a very long time because i wanted to carefully hit the right spots and nail the each character. second, i only make 3 characters this time ‘cause each one of them is long enough to read. third, i wanna make you guys suffer <3 enjoy !!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s fingers trembled as he reached out to touch your hand, the memory of his harsh words replaying in his mind. “why didn’t i see it coming?” he muttered to himself, voice hardly above a whisper. the guilt was suffocating, the feeling that he had failed you as a partner, both in life and on the field, gnawing at him relentlessly.

he hadn’t slept since you were brought in, eyes red and heavy, his emerald pupils weren’t evident anymore with the dark circles underneath a testament to his vigil. every beep of the monitors felt like a countdown, each passing second a reminder of how fragile everything was. he kept running through what he could have done differently, how he could have prevented this from happening.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion, repeating the words tremendously. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—“

“i’m so sorry. i never meant for this to happen. i never wanted to hurt you.”

his mind was filled with images of your smile, your laughter, and the way your eyes would light up when you were happy. he wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, to hear your voice, to have the chance to make things right.

the silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. megumi’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and determination. he knew he had to find a way to apologize, to show you that he cared more than he had ever managed to express. but how could he make up for the pain he had caused? how could he prove to you that he was truly sorry?

he squeezed your hand gently, as if the simple touch could convey all the words he struggled to find. “please wake up,” he pleaded softly. “i need to tell you how much you mean to me. i need to show you that i can do better. that i will do better. please, just wake up.”

as the hours dragged on, megumi’s resolve only strengthened. he would make things right, no matter what it took. the door to your room opened, but megumi didn’t look up. his focus was entirely on you, silently willing you to open your eyes. he wouldn’t leave your side until you did. he couldn’t. the weight of his regret was too heavy, his love for you too deep.

“please,” he whispered again, each syllable filled with desperation. “come back to me.”

GOJO SATORU

“you’re always so damn reckless!” gojo had shouted, his voice echoing in the small office.

“maybe if you weren’t so arrogant all the time, you’d understand why!” you had snapped back, feeling the sting of his words cut deep.

now, the same guy sat by your hospital bed, his usually confident demeanor shattered. his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, blood seeping from where his nails dug into his palms. the sight of you lying there, pale and unmoving, tore at his heart. he cursed himself repeatedly, the words tumbling out in a desperate, angry whisper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, voice breaking. “why the hell did this have to happen? why couldn’t i fucking save you?”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to give him some sign that you were still there with him. the argument replayed in his mind, each harsh word a dagger in his chest. he wanted to take it all back, to tell you how much he loved you and needed you.

“shit,” he hissed, slamming his fist into the armrest of the chair. “i’m supposed to be the strongest, but what the hell does that mean if i can’t even protect you?”

a hollow aching threatened to eat away at his chest, a gnawing remorse. tears blurred his vision as he looked at you, voice a broken whisper. “wake up. i want to apologize. i want you to know how sorry i am.”

the room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. gojo’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt, also his helplessness. he had faced countless curses and enemies without flinching, but this, seeing you like this, was unbearable.

he cursed again, the words raw and filled with pain. “damn it, why didn’t i stop you? why didn’t i fucking do something?”

his mind raced, trying to think of ways to make it right, to fix what had been broken. but all he could do was wait and hope. he reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his grip trembling.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i love you. please, just wake up. i don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

yuta, who was normally expressive, was pale and drawn as he sat beside your bed. his voice was crushed by the weight of his remorse, and he was unable to speak. he was completely broken by the sight of you there, so still and vulnerable, in ways he never imagined. his fingers barely touched yours as he extended a shaking hand, fearing that the slightest touch could break you.

memories of the argument replayed in his mind, each moment seared into his consciousness. your angry words echoed in his ears, mingling with his own harsh retorts. he remembered the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked when you told him you were done talking. he had let you walk away, his anger blinding him to the danger you were about to face.

tears welled up in yuta’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. he had to be strong for you, even though you couldn’t sense a thing. the guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that whispered of his failures. he had promised to protect you, to be there for you, and yet here you were, injured and unresponsive, because he had let his anger get the better of him.

“it’s all my fault,” he grumbled, voice barely audible in the sterile room. “i should have stopped you. i should have been there.”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to open your eyes and tell him it was okay. but you remained still, your breathing steady but shallow. yuta’s mind was a storm of regret and self-recrimination. he blamed himself for everything, convinced that his failure to resolve things before you left had led to this. if only he had followed you, things might have been different.

“wake up, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “you can’t do this to me..”

he felt a sob rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, determined not to break in front of you. he had to be strong, even if it felt like he was falling apart inside. the thought of losing you was unbearable, a gap that threatened to swallow him whole.

“why did i let you go?” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “why didn’t i fight for us?”

the minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity as yuta sat by your side, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. he couldn’t imagine a life without you, couldn’t bear the thought that he might have lost you because of his own stubbornness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice choked with emotion. he stayed there, silent and unmoving, the weight of his regret a constant presence. all he could do was wait and hope, praying that you would wake up and give him the chance to apologize, to tell you how much you meant to him. until then, he would sit by your side, holding on to the hope that you would come back to him.

“i love you. please, just give me a chance to make things right.”

@uzurakis

[strangersteddierthings]

Eddie blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time for good measure. The scene before him doesn't change. Steve Harrington stands off to the side of the lunch table, behind Jeff and Frankie who have both gone still as statues like they think if they don't move, King Steve won't see them.

"Uh, what?" Eddie finds himself saying, against his own will. He heard Harrington the first time, doesn't need or want him to repeat himself, but his disbelief seems to have won out against his grudge for all jocks and his indifference to Steve Harrington in particular.

Harrington's face pinches, like he's three seconds away from rolling his eyes. He doesn't do that, though, which Eddie will give him one brownie point for. "I asked if you had a minute to talk." Eddie's taking away his brownie point because Steve 'asks' in a way that sounds more like a demand.

Hearing the question and or demand a second time doesn't lower Eddie's hackles, but it does pique his curiosity. He drums his fingers atop his lunchbox, thinking it over. He wishes he could say he's pretending to think about it before he tells Harrington to fuck off, but the truth is he actually is thinking about it.

What could Harrington possibly have to say to him? They very much do not run in the same circles. Eddie only talks business at the picnic table past the edge of the woods out back and everyone who buys from him knows that. They share several classes, since they're both seniors, but everyone knows Eddie's on a track to not graduate (again) so he can't possibly be coming to discuss Mrs. Click's homework assignment.

"Sure. Should we go elsewhere or...?" Eddie trails off, lifting a hand to wave in a circle in Steve's direction, questioning.

Steve looks over his shoulder, back towards the side of the cafeteria taken up by the 'popular' crowd. When Steve turns his face back, he looks- well, kind of sad for a moment before it's smoothed over with indifference.

Interesting.

"No. It's probably good that the rest of your friends hear it anyway," Steve answers.

Jeff's eyebrows rise to his hairline, and Frankie frowns as his eyebrows raise at the same time, showing an expression of interest. Eddie's got no idea what Gareth's face is doing because Eddie can't see him unless he wants to turn his face away, but he's certain it's probably a glare of some sort.

Eddie leans back in his chair, wiggling like he's getting extra comfortable before he says, "Well, alright Harrington. Shoot."

"I'm graduating this year, so I just wanted to give you a heads up for next year. I tried to curb the bullying, but I know it still happened. So, since I'm not going to be here to watch out for that, you're gonna wanna up your," Steve gestures to all of Eddie, "everything."

He knew Steve curbed the bullying a bit, heard the confirmation of that last year from Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan, when he'd stepped in to save Gareth. Or rather, Gareth had come flying in to save him and then Eddie had to save Gareth- well, the details don't matter really.

"My everything?" Eddie asks, more confused than angry. He thinks he should be angry. Harrington has all but outright said he doesn't think Eddie's going to graduate with him, after all. But no. The main emotion now is confusion.

"Yeah. Your, y'know, freakinesss or whatever. Be more of it."

"Be more of a freak?" It's fascinating, that Harrington just keeps talking like he thinks anyone at this table care for his opinion.

"Yeah!" Harrington says, cheery like he thinks that Eddie's agreed with him somehow, complete with a stupid snap of his fingers that turns into a finger gun pointed at Eddie. "You've already got this like unapproachable mad dog kind of look about you, most of the JV team is already scared of you. Just like, up that a bit more and they'll probably steer clear of you and your friends." Then Harrington frowns deep, looking around the table of nerds and dorks before looking down at the top of Gareth's head to add, "well. Except probably curly here. No offense, but you seem an easy target."

"Fuck off," Gareth growls, because of everyone at the table, Gareth does have the most bite. (Most bark goes to Eddie himself). Eddie's more prone to run from a problem than engage in it, unlike Gareth, who he's had to pull off of a few people this year.

"Or not," Harrington retracts his previous statement and Eddie will grant the man another brownie point, which brings the total up to one.

"Good to know my reputation precedes me," Eddie grins, wild and a bit manic.

Harrington is unphased. "Yeah! Do that more. I think it really freaks Jason out and he's most likely to take the captain slot next year, so if you get him afraid of you, the rest of the team'll fall in line and leave you alone too. I think he's super religious, so like, lean into the satanic panic thing people are up in arms about and next year will be a breeze. And-"

Eddie lifts a hand, a motion for Harrington to stop talking. It surprised him a little that Harrington does. Even more interesting. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, Harrington, but are you suggesting that I become the bully?"

Harrington's mouth opens and closes a few times before his face pinches again. Instead of looking like he's going to roll his eyes and be bitchy, Harrington looks confused and then like he's deep in thought. An uncomfortable amount of awkward silence falls over there table, but it's just when Eddie's about to break that silence that Harrington finally speaks. "No. I'm saying just like, be you but bigger. Like, you don't even gotta look in the team's direction. If you're just more of a freak than you usually are, they'll steer clear without the bullying."

"You sure know how to compliment a guy," Eddie deadpans. He's not even upset that Steve's called him a freak. He's spent the majority of his high school career cultivating that outlook. He wasn't just a freak, he was The Freak.

Now a look crosses Harrington's face. One Eddie's not sure he's interpreting correctly. If he had to take a guess, he'd say the look was calculating, knowing, in a way that Eddie doesn't think Harrington could actually achieve. Then it's gone, replaced with the bitchy, eye-rolling look Eddie's used to seeing, and Harrington says, "I haven't said anything untrue."

Hmm. The most interesting thing yet. Eddie might not be graduating (again) but he's not dumb. He didn't survive this far in his life, with a father like his, without learning to read people. He wasn't as good as he wanted to be at reading people last year, but he's definitely good enough know to think that, maybe, just maybe, Harrington also knows a thing or two about cultivating a public perception. Making sure people only see a certain side of you.

"Alright," is what Eddie answers, "I'll take what you've said under advisement."

"Uh. Okay," Harrington says before he just walks away. Conversation over.

"Well," Jeff says, "that was strange."

"Very," Eddie agrees as he watches Harrington walk away, tracking him until the cafeteria door slams shut behind him when he exits.

Eddie has always wanted to up the ante, so to speak. Jump on a cafeteria table and rant about capitalism and organized sports. He never has before but next year seems like a great time to try.

[chosolala]

𐙚 ⋆˚｡⋆ jjk guys crushing on you

pt 2!! this is just some of my headcannons on how i think the jujutsu kaisen characters would act while crushing on you :]

characters: yuji, megumi, inumaki, yuta, todo, noritoshi, kokichi

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

yuji itadori

he probably would wait a while before he tells you but there are MANY signs before he actually confesses

he always calls you pretty and always wants to be near you

he also shows off on missions a little when you guys go together

he is constantly talking about you and asking you if you want to hang out

he is so sweet though, always paying for your food, making jokes to keep you laughing, letting you win when you guys play video games, holding doors for you, all that jazz

when he finally does confess he’d probably do something stupid like make todo stand outside your room with a boombox while he break dances

don’t break his heart he will never recover

megumi fushiguro

he doesn’t want to have feelings for you because he knows it’ll end with one of you getting hurt with the whole jujutsu sorcerer thing so he pushes you away a lot

he actually makes you think he hates your guts so you guys go a long time not talking unless you absolutely have to

when you guys do talk he is always blushing and looking away

over time you manage to crack him though and he starts treating you like a human being with emotions

he probably buys you a soda or some sweets as an apology for being an a-hole to you

you find out he likes you through nobara or yuji but he would never confess,

if you want things to work out between you guys you’d probably have to confess to him and hope for the best

toge inumaki

he also makes fun of you but in a WAY more light hearted way

like friendly picking on you, like he’d somehow find a way to make fun of you for being pretty

he likes to invite you to help him cook just so he can hang out with you

panda never hears the end about you

on your off days he always invites you to go out and do stuff with him, like literally anything, he’ll invite you to run errands with him or to go to the arcade

when he finally confesses to you it’s no surprise to anyone, yourself included,

he slips a note into your bag and it’s literally just the cutest confession ever like that note could bring a man to tears

inumaki may be a man of few words but he knows all the right ones

yuta okkotsu

he is actually terrified when he realizes he has feelings for you because of rika so he waits a while before he even talks to you because he wants more control over her, yk so she won’t bite your head off

since he’s never around anyway he decided to just talk to you once he got back from one of his missions about how you guys have so much catching up to do

he is very observant though, he watches you and he knows what you get up to and who you hang out with, what kind of shows and music you like but he doesn’t want to be creepy about it

he is very sweet though, you mentioned running out of your favorite candy and he surprises you with a new bag that you guys eat together

he is a very vanilla guy, if he likes you, and he’s able to express it, he’ll do things like ask you out on a date or bring you chocolate, open doors for you,

he also covers your eyes from certain things on missions, he knows you’re used to seeing stuff like that but he just doesn’t want you to see what HE does to curses

he would probably confess by inviting you to the park or something and asking you to be his <3

aoi todo

he is NOT slick about it at all

first time he sees you his jaw is on the floor

he is borderline harassing you but in a…. caring way?

like he’s the type of guy who would throw himself over a puddle so you don’t get your shoes wet

he wrote a song for you except he’s a terrible singer

he probably also got yuji to help him confess to you with said song

he’s honestly like your night in shining armor though, it’s almost like he can sense when your in danger because whenever missions are looking rough he busts in out of no where to save the day

whenever you guys actually get together you always catch him shamelessly admiring you, whenever you’re together his eyes are only on you

noritoshi kamo

also in denial about his feelings towards you, he would never confess to you first or even tell anyone he liked you, yourself included

he can’t stop himself from being near you or constantly doing favors for you though

he doesn’t invite you out or anything but he just likes being near you and being able to see you i guess

like he’s always looking out for you

he likes meeting you outside late at night and just talking to you

one time during your convos he let it slip that you were the prettiest person he’s ever seen and you ended up confessing to him after that

and they lived happily ever after

kokichi muta (sorry in advance)

this is a tough one since he’s kind of a robot for most of his screen time….

i think if he wasn’t mechamaru and he was an actual person he would be kind of cold but still soft towards you

like he wouldn’t necessarily be mean or nice to you but he’d bring you ice cream or something as a ‘here just so you know i actually like you’

he’s the type of guy to bonk u on the head

i think he’d probably confess with like chocolate or a flower but he’d be so nervous that he can’t even look at you while he does it but if you accept his feelings he can’t stop smiling