#I haven’t had a home where I felt truly safe for

[angelnumber27]

I need to get out of here it’s literally killing and eating away at me being around somebody like this all the time

[swordgrace]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ jon snow x female northern reader.

SYNOPSIS: you reunite with your beloved childhood friend, jon snow, at the edge of the world. the both of you have changed, but your feelings certainly haven’t.

note: season six jon, follows s6 ep4.

format: one-shot — not requested.

word count: 10.5K (not sorry).

warnings: SMUT (mdni), ramsay bolton warning, friends to lovers, confession of feelings, reunion sex, description of scars, jon is definitely more of a switch, horny reader (valid), lots of groping, making out, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, jon loves to munch, body worship, hair-pulling kink, unprotected sex, p in v sex, lotus position & missionary position, reader is on top and on bottom, light biting & tit sucking, soft ending + aftercare

author’s note: I don’t know where this came from, but I’m glad because I had so much fun with his one! I’m a Jon girlie until the very end <3 I would honestly love to write more of him if you guys enjoy this! thank you so much for the love and support!

𝐀𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲.

Direwolf sigils were replaced with that of flayed men, befitting for the screams that often emerged from the bowels of the Keep or the kennels, where enemies were fed to Ramsay Bolton’s pack of slavering hounds. Old faces that you had grown up with as a girl were gone — removed or slaughtered.

Your father, once loyal to House Stark and to Eddard himself, was strung-up and butchered for all to see, flayed alive by the Bolton men who now controlled Winterfell. You grew numb to the pain, numb to the shifting environment around you. It wasn’t the home that you had grown up in.

When you had caught sight of Sansa Stark in the courtyard, auburn tresses like searing embers against the backdrop of endless gray and snow, tears on her face, you knew that you needed to act.

You hadn’t known Sansa very well, but you did know her brother, Jon Snow. A beloved friend in your youth and teenage years, you had watched him go to the Night’s Watch. Any letters you’d written were likely thrown to the wayside, given the oaths that Men of the Watch swore, but you had longed to see him again.

Sansa recognized your face, no longer that of a young maiden with her head in the clouds. The both of you were women grown, trapped within Winterfell, and you wholly intended on escaping.

Fleeing Winterfell was perilous — dangerous, especially with the winter so biting and icy that it threatened to freeze away your extremities. Aided by Theon Greyjoy, once a captive of Ramsay, the three of you escaped into the harshness of the Northern woodlands.

Much of your time spent was in constant peril, with the looming threat of Bolton hounds nipping at your heels, search parties sent sprawling across the Wolfswood and beyond. Every rustle in the trees, every snap of a twig, distant scream of the wind made your steps quicken.

It was only when your lives were spared by Brienne of Tarth and her squire that you knew you were truly safe.

Castle Black had stood the testament of time, the last line of defense against whatever monsters lurked outside of The Wall. When its massive gates had opened, making way for your caravan, you felt shrewd in the presence of strangers. You hadn’t left Winterfell for much of your life, and only now, the world seemed so much larger.

When you saw Jon Snow again, more a man now than a boy you’d left behind in Winterfell, your heart nearly shriveled up within your chest. Youthfulness had left him, replaced with a permanent twinge of melancholy. A scar circled around his right eye, seemingly newer, and his mound of curled tresses remained tugged into a half-bun.

You stood in Brienne’s shadow, shuddering from the gnawing bite of the cold, feeling it slowly eat away at your bones. Sansa sobbed into her brother’s shoulder — and you couldn’t fault her for it. The viciousness she suffered at the hands of the Boltons was some of the worst cruelties one could imagine.

It was only when you caught Jon’s eye that he felt his breath hitch within his throat, and he felt like a young man again — freshly eight-and-ten, watching as he introduced you to Ghost for the first time. The sound of your curious laughter had filled the courtyard of Winterfell, and he remembered it as if it were yesterday.

You were from a distant dream, somewhere close yet far away, slipping in and out of his thoughts.

The last thing that you wanted was to detract from Sansa’s reunion with her brother, and so you kept quiet, bringing yourself into the shoddy shelter of your cloak. Your visage was icy, stung by the bitter wind of the far North, and your hands ached.

“You are safe here,” Jon murmured, brown hues glistening with appreciation as he looked upon Brienne of Tarth. “I owe you my gratitude for saving my sister. Whatever you need from Castle Black, you’ll have it.” He nodded, finding his gaze drifting towards you, begging for you to look his way.

Perhaps you didn’t recognize him, but that seemed far-fetched. Edd beckoned for Sansa to follow him at Jon’s command, hoping to find warmth in the guest chambers in the Lord Commander’s suite. The burden and duty no longer belonged to him.

Brienne bowed, hand atop the pommel of Oathkeeper, the Valyrian steel sheathed within its scabbard. “I swore an oath to Catelyn Stark that I would keep her daughters safe — and I shall keep it.” She replied, cerulean hues flickering towards you. “Lady Sansa’s escape wouldn’t have been possible without her.”

Jon gazed at you as if you had brought down the sun and stars themselves, moved mountains with will alone. Gods, he missed you terribly. His departure for the Night’s Watch had left a gaping hole in your heart, never to be filled, but seeing him again only seemed to make it ache with something painful.

Wordlessly, your feet carried you before logic could stop you in your tracks, and you flung yourself into Jon’s embrace, feeling his arms wrap around you. Brienne’s countenance glistened with the realization that you knew Jon, and she seemed to steer Podrick away, allowing the both of you some privacy.

“You’re alive,” You whispered into his shoulder, feeling hot tears trickle down your cheeks. Part of you worried that he might’ve perished, but here he stood, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, a man. “It has been so long, Jon Snow.”

He hadn’t been alive days ago — death had claimed him once before.

The scars that littered his body seemed to ache and throb with the mere thought of his own demise, and the anguish of betrayal that came with it. His dark brows furrowed together, visage one of gentle joy as he released you from his grasp. “You look older.” Older in the eyes — not in the face.

You were still just as beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen — your appearance hadn’t changed, and he hoped that your heart hadn’t, either. Your friendship kept him afloat for many years during his time in Winterfell, living as a Stark. You never cast your judgment upon him for being a bastard — and you never would.

“So do you,” Concern crept into your voice as you looked over his rugged beard and the scar upon his brow. “What happened to you, Jon?” There was so much he wished to tell you — from the Wildlings to the White Walkers, and his death. You could see it in his face — the maturity, the weight of duty, an abundance of stoicism.

“It’s a long story.” Jon huffed, Northern timbre crackled with a bout of faint amusement, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. He gestured for you to follow him, striding across the courtyard of Castle Black in-search of his own quarters. He no longer held the Lord Commander’s chambers, and for good reason.

The men of Castle Black weren’t accustomed to seeing a woman — it evoked his streak of protectiveness when it came to you. He ensured that he kept close to your side during the lengthy trek to his chambers. Brienne was sworn to Sansa, and Jon knew that she would be well looked-after in the Lady’s stead.

Ascending a flight of rickety wooden steps, Jon led you to his quarters. Smaller, but he preferred his solitude. His brothers had stabbed him, tore away his mantle of Lord-Commander, killed him — as soon as he could, he intended on leaving.

Pushing the door open, you were met with the gust of a raging hearth, warming your brittle bones as you rubbed your hands together, “Gods,” You whispered, immediately moving toward the crackling fire, extending your hands to the flames, eyes closing in satisfaction. “I nearly thought we wouldn’t make it.”

Jon’s brows furrowed together, and he pulled up a wooden stool for you to sit, and so did he, firmly planted at your side like a dutiful guardian. “You’re safe here. I’ll have a bath drawn for you.” Dirt stained your visage, clothes tattered and worn from travel, hem shredded and covered in snow and mud.

Something forlorn reached his eyes, a distant glimmer of melancholy that you immediately recognized. He was still Jon, but something else seemed amiss. You lowered your hands into your lap, basking in the lick of the firelight. “All my life, I longed to see beyond Winterfell. Here I am — and here you are.” Your smile was threadbare.

The both of you had endured unimaginable hardships during your time apart, yet the warmth and fondness of your friendship remained, strong as ever. If Jon told you what all had happened, what he saw, what he went through — he wondered how much of it you would believe.

“Do you remember the night of the feast, when King Robert came to Winterfell?” Jon remembered — he remembered you, most of all. Gods, you looked so beautiful that night, bringing him a heaping plate of foodstuffs from the banquet, keeping him company throughout the night’s festivities.

“Of course,” It was one of the last days you had spent with Jon before he departed for the Night’s Watch. You had a plethora of regrets, and not kissing him that evening was one of them. The opportunity had dangled itself before you, and you never acted on it. “They sheared your face clean. A disservice to you, truly.”

A brief huff of laughter escaped him, lips twitching into a faint smile. “That’s what you chose to remember?” He remarked, planting his forearms against his knees. Admittedly, he chose to remember you — the way your dress clung to you, the vibrancy of your smile, tenderness in your eyes.

Your nose wrinkled in amusement before you waved him aside, a smile stretched across your features — happier this time, full of warmth. “I remember more than just that, but yes. You weren’t so dour, then.”

Jon chuckled, effectively shattering his stoic mask as he looked at you, head canting to one side. “I still was, always sulking about in some corner,” He mused, peering toward the hearth. “The things I’ve seen — the things I’ve been through …” His jaw tightened, and the wound to his heart seemed to ache.

Empathy tugged at your countenance, one that dissipated from something lighthearted to seriousness. You reached out, resting a palm against his bicep. “What happened to you, Jon? You don’t seem the same.” You asked, glancing toward the scar on his face.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you about his death and resurrection — not yet, anyway. It was still too fresh a wound to speak of, left gaping and open, one that would take time to fully heal. “I went beyond The Wall.” Jon stated, as if that would answer all of your questions.

Silence drifted between you both, and you exhaled, brows creasing in contemplation as you looked toward the fire. You let your hands drift closer again, hoping to absorb any lick of heat that you could find. Jon stared at you, unbeknownst to you, studying the intricacies of your visage, the way your tresses framed your face.

Abandoning the rank of Lord-Commander had been a liberating thing. He was done fighting for men who had countered him at every turn, men who slaughtered him. He was unsure of his next course of action, but he wanted you there with him, regardless.

Hunger and famine gnawed at your stomach, chewing you up and spitting you out. Even Jon could hear the violent lurch of your stomach, see the exhaustion etched into your features. He didn’t want to keep you, but he didn’t want to leave you, either.

“You should clean up, join us for supper,” Jon prompted, melting away the tenuous silence. “I’ll see about finding you something proper to wear.” He wanted to continue to reminisce with you, but you deserved a moment of solace, a chance to bathe and warm yourself without his intrusion.

You nodded, offering Jon an amiable smile. “I want us to continue our conversation,” You insisted, your voice soft and tender, a silky resonance. Instead, you reached for his hand, finding the calloused, roughened plane of his palm. “I’ve missed you, Jon.” If he hadn’t realized it by now, then he might’ve been blind.

Jon’s breath hitched within his throat, reduced to a mere boy in your presence. Whatever he thought of at that moment, it was inappropriate — it transcended all bonds of propriety and proper friendship, yet he couldn’t help it. How long had he thought of you? Yearned for you, dreamed of you whenever he was laying on the cold earth somewhere beyond the Wall?

If it weren’t for his uncertainty, he would’ve kissed you then and there.

He never stopped to consider what your life was like now — perhaps you had a husband and a family, a life that had moved on from him, no longer frozen in the time of your youth. Jon always feared that being a bastard would’ve stopped you from courtship, but he knew now that you didn’t care. You never did.

Years of letting yourself toil over Jon Snow had amounted to this — to this unspoken affection that permeated the fringes of your friendship. In his absence, you hadn’t taken a husband, you hadn’t wed. Part of you thought you would become a spinster and live out your days caring for your ailing father.

Tension simmered, sparking to life in the wake of your intertwined hands. “I missed you, too.” His accent seemed deliciously thick, noticeably huskier with the rougher pitch of his tone. Those earthly-brown hues of his bored right into you.

Your stare became doe-like, able to feel his calloused digits, how strong his hands had become, careworn from holding a sword. Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you let your hand recoil, placing it back into your lap. Your fingers curled tightly into your dress.

With a brief clearing of his throat, Jon decided to give you privacy. “I must speak with Sansa,” He murmured, standing up from his stool with an abruptness. His heart thumped madly within his chest, throat becoming thick as he gathered his bearings. “Come to supper when you’re finished.”

“Of course. Thank you, Jon.” You smiled, and he stepped out to give you your solace. His quarters were noticeably smaller yet homely, and you immediately decided to go to the washroom to clean yourself. Endless dirt and grime stained your flesh, making you feel worse than you already did.

As soon as you disrobed, sinking into the steaming-hot waters of the metal tub, you submerged your head beneath, coming up for a gasp of air. You glanced toward the hearth, scrubbing yourself down with a bristle brush and sponge, using the scarce amount of herbs and soap given to you.

You thought of Jon — thought of his hand, the firmness of it, the rough-hewn texture of his skin, the hardened muscle of his bicep beneath your grasp. You thought of the dismal, tempestuous storm of emotions raging war within his gaze when he spoke of being beyond The Wall.

It gave you much to dwell on as you scrubbed away the dirt from your skin, smoothing handfuls of hot water across your face. A simple Northerner’s dress and a furred cloak lay on the chair beside you, something suitable to wear that weren’t your tattered rags.

Sloshing around within the steaming water for a moment longer, you finished cleaning up, feeling the continuous gnaw of hunger strike at your stomach. The air was brusque and still bitter with a noticeable chill, the hearth continuing to roar in spite of being left with little attendance.

Tugging on the coarse, linen dress, you retrieved your boots, having thoroughly cleaned them off of hardened dirt. You let your hair dry by the fireside, swaddled in the cloak given to you by Jon. It swallowed you whole, yet it smelled like him — woodlands and scented smoke, the musk of a battle-hardened man.

By the time you joined the others for dinner, you felt cleaner than you had in some time, liberated from the weight of grime and hard travel. Exhaustion still clung to you like a shroud, but you assumed that a proper meal would make it easier to deal with.

Sansa greeted you with a thin smile, moving aside for you to sit next to her. There was never a fondness you shared between one another in your youth — you were always Jon’s friend, a girl who preferred mucking about in the outdoors and watching him fight with steel instead of any ladylike endeavors.

You had become quite proficient with an embroidery needle, and a dagger. They were one and the same for you at-times.

Jon’s silent admiration of you continued, hues fluttering over your form, now rid of soot and dirt. A warm plate of heaping food sat before you, helpings of potatoes, stewed vegetables, and roasted venison. You ate as if you hadn’t consumed a bite in years, the richness of it filling your belly.

“We are to take Winterfell back from the Boltons,” Sansa stated, her tone resolute and assured. “Do you think that there are still allies in Winterfell who might help our cause?” She inquired, her question directed towards you. You knew Winterfell — you’d been there this whole time.

“If Ramsay hasn’t flayed them all alive, then yes,” You murmured, thinking of your father’s corpse, strung-up on some wooden cross, muscle and flesh peeled away to reveal his bones. You shivered, masking your discomfort through a bite of vegetables. “There are still denizens inside who remember the Starks.”

Tormund Giantsbane, Jon’s ally and the leader of the Wildling forces, noisily bit into a haunch of meat, juices spraying across his ginger beard. Brienne’s discomfort and bewilderment was palpable as she turned away, blonde brows furrowing together.

“Could you find your way back in?” Tormund grunted, and you understood the insinuation of his proposal. If you were to rally those who still supported House Stark to Jon’s cause, staging a coup from the inside, it might assist his chances of taking the Keep.

“I suppose I could, but the Boltons rarely let anyone in or out, save for those bearing the Flayed Man sigil,” Jon seemed visibly apprehensive at Tormund’s suggestion, jaw tightening as he stuck his fork into a piece of meat. “It is dangerous now — one wrong move, and they string you up on the banisters, flay you for all to see.”

Tears glistened within your eyes at the harrowing memory of your father — you watched him be pinned to that post, screaming for mercy, men with knives cutting him apart as if he were a pig for slaughter. You hastily wiped them aside, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

Jon’s gaze never wavered from you whenever you spoke — Sansa could see it, Edd could see it.

“That is the fate that befell my father.” With a sharp exhale, you continued to eat, momentarily meeting Jon’s sullen-eyed stare, full of sympathy for your loss. His condolences were unspoken, but he didn’t have to say the words to convey meaning.

“We will find another way,” Jon murmured, brows knitting together. “You’ve risked enough to save Sansa’s life. I won’t let you risk it again. Out of the question.” There was a finality to his words, wrought with a glaring overprotective nature.

Sansa remembered the day they left your father out to bleed in the courtyard — Ramsay’s sickening smile remained emblazoned in the back of her mind. She reached to squeeze your hand, and you nodded, the both of you returning to the food.

She plucked at hers, turning a piece of meat over along her fork. Edd stifled a brief chuckle through a mouthful of hard rations. “Sorry about the food, m’ladies. It’s not what we’re known for.” He stated.

“That’s alright. There are more important things.” Sansa smiled, but you were in the throes of consuming everything that you could. Foodstuffs had become scarce in Winterfell, especially to those who weren’t Boltons — just residents. You had to scrounge and work for every scrap — this meal was the best you had in ages.

A brother of the Watch entered the Great Hall, carrying a scroll of parchment for Jon, one that was marked by the wax seal of Ramsay Bolton. “For you, Lord Commander.”

“I’m not the Lord Commander anymore.” Jon uttered, yet he took the scroll, anger seething within his eyes when he realized whose sigil held the parchment together. He unraveled it, jaw tightening as he began to read it aloud.

“To the traitorous bastard, Jon Snow, you allowed thousands of Wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind and you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard — come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon …” Jon trailed off, breath quickening as he looked at Sansa.

Her countenance was one of shock and horror, tears welling within her eyes as she nodded for him to continue reading. The Hall was eerily silent, and you listened, brows furrowing together.

“His direwolf’s skin is on my floor — come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me bastard, and I will not trouble you and your Wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride North and slaughter every Wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living, you will …” He stopped.

“Go on.” Sansa murmured, but Jon refused, rolling up the parchment with a despondent, rageful expression. He felt it blossom throughout his chest, the very same anger that consumed him when he sentenced his brothers to die.

“It’s just more of the same.” Jon quipped, preparing to tear it asunder, but Sansa reached over to take it from his hands, unraveling the parchment.

“You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister and your Northern bitch. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother — then I will spoon your eyes from your sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” She read, a shudder within her voice.

You shivered, feeling a pang of disgust and fear rattle through you, goosebumps cascading along your spine. Ramsay knew of you — knew that you helped Sansa to escape, and knew of your affiliation with Jon Snow.

“Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Jon grit out through clenched teeth, fists tightening around Ramsay’s missive. He would kill him for what he did — to Sansa, to you, to his brother. He swore it by whatever Gods were willing to listen.

“Roose Bolton is dead — Ramsay killed him. Now, he has our brother — he has Rickon.” Sansa’s voice trembled, but she remained stalwart, even if she knew what a monster Ramsay was. She used to think that Joffrey was the root of all evil — she was wrong.

“We don’t know that.” Jon protested, but Sansa stopped him.

“We do. He has five-thousand men, at least — I overheard him talking about it when he prepared for Stannis’s attack.” She replied, folding her arms together. You felt nothing but admiration for her — sorrow, perhaps, but you admired her strength in the midst of this.

“How many men do we have?” Jon looked to Tormund, desperate for answers, for a shred of something positive. They were lesser in numbers than the Boltons — they would need allies, and they would need them swiftly.

“Ones that can march and fight? Two-thousand.” Tormund replied. They had a Giant — that had to count for at least fifty men, if they were lucky.

“Jon,” You spoke up at long last, finding your voice as you sat soundly at Sansa’s side. “You are the last true son of the Warden of the North. Northern families are loyal, and they will fight for you if you ask it of them.” The gentle encouragement you offered gave him much to think about.

Sansa reached across the table, seizing Jon’s arm. “A monster has taken our home and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell, to save them both.” She pleaded, auburn brows furrowing together. It was the right course of action — it had been years since a Stark had truly sat in Winterfell.

Jon nodded, determination tempering his anger, and the desire for justice. He remembered wanting to ride North to help Robb’s cause, and he didn’t. Sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if he did — if his brother might’ve survived. There was no time for inaction, not anymore.

“We will reconvene at first light, to discuss our next move.” He briefly squeezed Sansa’s hand before glancing at you. “You need to rest — both of you.” It wasn’t a request — more of a command, really. You and Sansa had been running from Winterfell for days before Brienne happened across you.

You took your leave, hoping to pray about your father alone before dusk settled in.

𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬.

Brienne had taken Sansa back to her chambers for the evening, and you had gone to the ramparts after finishing your supper.

The death of your father was still an unsightly wound, something that had cut you right to the bone. He was your only family left — the last tether that you had, the last one to truly care for you. It left you with a gaping void of loneliness, one that had only felt healed in Jon’s presence.

Flickering torchlight danced along the wooden bridge that connected two sides of Castle Black, and despite the chill of the air, you remained outside. Rest eluded you, and you knew that you would be up all evening, tarrying around to try and occupy your mind.

Darkening skies twinkled with stars, partially obscured by large wisps of gray clouds, and with it, a light snowfall. The fur-lined cloak you wore kept you warm, shrouded from the gnawing chill as you listened to footsteps resonate from your left side.

The pale shadow of Ghost trotted alongside him, those crimson eyes glowering through the encroaching dusk. The last time you had seen Jon’s direwolf, he was the size of a small dog — now, he was massive, nearly coming up to your shoulder with the tips of his ears.

“What did you feed him?” You mused, kneeling down to greet Ghost as if he were an old friend. You recalled the day that Jon had brought the albino pup home, nothing more than a scraggly runt hidden in his cloak. Ghost nudged your hand, silently asking for a scratch along his ears.

Jon smiled, coming to stand near your side as he peered down into the silent courtyard of Castle Black. It was quiet, save for the occasional soldier scurrying across the dirt or the distant howl of the wind. “He’s much larger than I expected him to be,” He confessed. “Seems he remembers you.”

Ghost whined, ruby eyes studying you intensely, as if he recalled your last meeting. The pale direwolf allowed you to dote on him for a moment longer, padding off to lay outside of Jon’s chambers. You watched him go, a smile spreading across your face.

Your countenance softened at the sight of Jon, tousled curls still tugged into a loose half-bun, a smile toying at either corner of his mouth. “Aren’t you cold?” He questioned, noticing the way your form quivered beneath the cloak he’d given you.

“Quite,” A brief chuckle left you as you wring your hands together, letting them sink into the thick fur that you tugged tighter around you. “I don’t believe that I will be able to sleep tonight, given the circumstances.” You confessed, and he seemed empathetic.

“I don’t sleep much — not anymore.” The night that he had found himself resurrected from the black shroud of death, he did not sleep. Instead, he lay waiting for his brothers to burst through the door, knives drawn, waiting to send him to the cold, hard earth.

Jon slept with Longclaw at his side — he imagined that he’d never feel safe again without it by his hip.

A comfortable silence of understanding drifted between the both of you, and you felt him lean closer, brows furrowing together. “I am sorry about your father,” Jon murmured, knowing what it was like to lose his own. “I am sorry for what they did to him.”

Tears pricked your eyes again, yet you refused to let them fall, jaw tensing before you shook your head. “He is with the Gods now,” You whispered, mustering a threadbare smile despite the melancholy of your talks. “I hope that Ramsay Bolton is not shown any mercy.”

Jon hadn’t heard you speak like that before — so full of pain, an agony in your soft tone that he wished he could rip away from you, place the burden on his shoulders. “We will take back Winterfell — for my family, for yours, for the North. I promise.”

“You’re a good man, Jon.” The two of you remained huddled close together, and you very nearly reached for his hands again, but decided against it. “You always have been, despite what insults you’ve been hurled. They are half the man that you are.”

He was a good man, despite what he thought of himself — an honorable man, the very best of them. His shining qualities were often diminished in the face of being a bastard, and you wished it weren’t so. Jon had long been ostracized for it, even if it was no fault of his own.

Jon hadn’t believed it, that he was truly good. He had done plenty of wrong — broke his vows to the Night’s Watch, killed many men, killed a boy, and for what? What good had come out of it all, other than being sent to an early grave for his actions?

You had always believed in him steadfastly, and he often felt undeserving of your praise. Nonetheless, Jon offered you a forlorn look, smile not reaching his eyes as he bowed his head. “I wish I could believe you.” Through a softly-spoken confession, he turned to face the cutting bite of the Northern winds.

As darkness hovered, the cold beginning to bite at his flesh, Jon gestured toward the doors to his chambers. “It’s getting cold,” Even he had his limits, hardiness tested by the harshness of winter. “Come on.” His hand hovered near the small of your back, sending a shiver down your spine.

The warm sanctuary of his chambers offered you a much-needed relief, hearth roaring beside his bed, lined in countless furs. The furnishings were scarce, and he placed Longclaw at his bedside, never very far from his grasp. An orange glow permeated all it touched, encompassing you in its gentle heat.

Ghost stayed outside, furs able to outlast the encroaching winter. He was the watcher tonight, ensuring that no strangers or brothers disturbed his friend.

You moved to sit against the large, rustic footlocker that sat at the end of his bed, closest to the hearth. The cloak you wore swallowed you whole, allowing you to descend right into the pile of furs, warming your icy flesh. Jon sat beside you, keeping a comfortable distance, one that many might’ve labeled as prudish.

Jon’s lack of subtlety became brazenly clear, dark hues shamelessly fluttering across your face, absorbing the finer details of your form. You had grown into your beauty, and even then, he was at your mercy — you were incomparable in his eyes.

The sting of embarrassment rippled through him, his behavior akin to a young man with an unrequited affection. His one experience with a Wildling woman had been in an effort to feel something, anything — a retaliation against the Night’s Watch.

You were different — you were his friend, a girl he’d known since childhood, now grown into the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. It was as if you reduced him to a mere pup without even trying, unbeknownst to you.

Jon carried a flagon of honeyed mead, the warm liquid churning about within its leather confines. It tasted stale, but it was better than he expected it to be, taking a brief swig. He hoped that it would quell his nerves, but perhaps it was wishful thinking.

“I’ve never been so far away from home before,” You sighed, breaking the comfortable silence with an amiable smile. “I used to always dream of going elsewhere, an adventure away from Winterfell. Now that I’ve gone, I want nothing more than to go back.”

“Has it changed much?” Jon inquired, voice dropping into a husky lull that made you shiver. His tone had become rugged, gruff — that familiar Northern timbre always filled you with a sense of comfort and ease. He hadn’t been to Winterfell in years.

“No,” Your visage grew forlorn, tinged with a peculiar sadness as your lips wavered into a half-frown. “Just those who command it.” The homely stone and Stark banners were all you knew for the longest time — and you hoped that it would be so again.

You wanted to cease dwelling on all things bleak and dreary, and instead, you smiled at Jon, countenance melding into one of genuineness. He caught your eye, features growing unbearably hot beneath the ardor of your gaze. Something passed between the both of you, something that caused you to look away; smitten.

Jon exhaled, taking a swig of the mead before offering it up to you. Liquor wasn’t something he necessarily enjoyed, but it did take some little edge off — for now, anyway. He watched with a faint smile as you took it, giving the cork a brief sniff, nose wrinkling.

Nevertheless, you took a drink, stinging liquid burning your throat on the way down. You sputtered, your expression one of clear distaste as you handed it back to him. “Gods, what is that supposed to be? The Night’s Watch isn’t known for their ale, either.” You huffed.

A huff of laughter tore past his lips, and at last, you could see the glint of his pearlescent teeth, a smile that could melt The Wall itself. “Still can’t handle your drink after all this time?” Jon remarked, corking the flagon of mead as he placed it aside. He didn’t want to drink himself into a stupor with you present.

“There were never any occasions that called for it,” You retorted, a warm playfulness permeating your tone. You leaned forward atop the footlocker, gazing into the flickering flames, its heat basking your visage. “Winterfell wasn’t the same after your family left. Everything seemed so dour, so hopeless.”

Jon hung his head, hands folded together as he contemplated your statement. “Sometimes, I wish I’d never left.” He confessed, tone slipping into something silent, as if he were sharing his greatest sin with the septa. There were times where he missed home — missed what might’ve been.

Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you didn’t hesitate to look at him, hues swimming with a wet sheen. Reminiscing often brought about plenty of sentiments for you, sentiments that you thought you’d buried. “Sometimes I wish that you hadn’t left, either.” You whispered.

None of this felt real.

There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere, a tension that had risen from the lingering flames of a longstanding friendship. Jon felt an unusual swell within his stomach, the onslaught of boyish nerves, yet he pushed them aside for the sake of the moment. It all seemed to feel so right, as if this had been long in the making.

Jon stared at you, absentmindedly tilting closer, enough to where you could feel the heat of his honey-tinged breath fan across your face. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t?” He murmured, hoping that you would confirm whatever it was that he felt, too.

“I am not sure,” Butterflies erupted within the pit of your stomach, hands beginning to reach for one another, even if you hadn’t fully realized it yourself. “I would like to think that I would’ve gained the courage to tell you how I truly felt about you.” There wasn’t an ounce of subtlety present — you knew what you meant, he knew what you meant.

I love you — it was on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released, to let his confession take wing into the open air. He should’ve told you that night of the feast, when you took his hand and told him that you would always defend his honor and his name.

“Jon.” Your voice was nothing more than a saccharine whisper, eyes wide and doe-like, a wordless plea to act on whatever it was he felt. Before you could say another word, Jon’s mouth was on yours, hot and rugged, everything that you imagined it would be.

His calloused hand rose to cup your face, rough pads of his digits tracing across your cheek, your jaw — you felt like velvet, an unblemished plane that had eagerly awaited his touch. Jon had always fantasized about kissing you, and the reality of it far exceeded any expectations he might’ve had.

The sudden intensity of the kiss had grown, as if throwing kindling onto an open flame. You weren’t prepared for it, but you needed more. A moan stirred within your throat as you pressed forward, hands reaching for the front of his leather-studded tunic.

Jon kissed you as if you were the air itself, every breath he drew consuming you, dragging you in until you were intertwined. He seized your waist, rough palm sinking into the coarse material of your dress, nearly shuddering at the feeling of your body beneath his palm.

“I love you,” He uttered against your mouth, forehead briefly bumping into yours as he held you close, the weight of his confession beginning to sink in. “I never wish to be parted from you — from this day, until my last day.” Jon promised, voice rumbling and solemn, knowing that he would keep his vow.

Incredulously, you gazed at him with wide eyes, unable to escape the feeling of complete and utter joy you experienced at his confession. Breathless, you took a moment to compose yourself, gather your bearings before you smiled. “Don’t leave me again, Jon Snow.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Jon murmured, eagerly seeking your mouth again, tugging you in for a heated kiss. Gods, your mouth was so disarmingly soft, pliant and plush against his lips, giving him everything that he ever imagined and so much more.

A gentle, uttered string of breathy ‘I love you’s’ left you over and over again, each kiss ripping the air from your lungs, leaving your heart hammering beneath your breast. You shrugged the cloak aside, letting it pool around you, partially strewn across the footlocker.

Desperation laced your kisses, as if something might threaten to rip you away from the excitement of the moment, or that you might wake up from a distant dream. Jon was lost in your mouth, a grunt blossoming from his chest when he hauled you closer, until no sliver of space remained.

He stood up, bringing you with him, standing atop the sprawling furs of slain stags, closer to the lick of the hearth. It allowed him to better hold you, hands respectfully roaming your body, never allowing himself to slip below your hips. “Wait.” He rasped, removing his mouth from yours.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, fearing that you had vastly overstepped. This was all somewhat unfamiliar, the territory new and unexpected. You had been with a man before, but it never crossed a certain threshold — you wouldn’t allow it.

“Is this what you want?” Jon questioned, dark brows knitting together as he regarded you with caution, a devotion reserved only for you. He couldn’t continue without hearing the certainty escape your mouth — he hadn’t done this in some time, himself.

Gods, you loved him. There was a lack of hesitation in his movements, but instead, a desire for clarity. He didn’t want you to feel obligated or trapped in some corner — he wanted you to want him. A twinkle of ardor glistened within your warm gaze as you brought your hands together at the nape of his neck.

It’s what you’ve wanted for such a long time — a terribly long time, at that. Everything felt as if you were wading through a dream, one that would shatter at any moment. “Yes,” You whispered, longing to unfasten the leather buckles and straps that held his tunic together. “More than anything.”

Jon’s breath hitched, a subtle noise, desire beginning to blossom throughout his chest. His grasp on you became innately protective and needy, hands gingerly kneading into your curves. He bent down for another kiss, arms caging themselves around you, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest.

Soft fingertips raked through his dark curls, bringing him to heel as he kissed you, unashamed of his clear desperation. It no longer felt like the ghost of a distant thought — this was a blissful reality. He helped you to remove the bulky leather of his jerkin, but part of him feared fully removing his clothes.

His scars would reveal the abhorrent truth — that he died, brought back to life from the twisted magic of a Fire Priestess. Jon’s hesitation was palpable, especially when your digits sank into the coarse material of his tunic. The leather fell to the wayside, and you were closer to seeing him disrobed.

Jon sluggishly reached for the linen ties that held your dress together, and you gave him a nod, subtly encouraging him to unravel you. As he gently tugged upon the tie, the fabric sagged upon your shoulders, allowing you to push it aside, stepping out of it altogether.

A strangled gasp caught within the depths of his throat, manifesting as a sharp exhale that consumed his ribcage. You were every bit as wonderful as he’d imagined you to be — such fantasies had clung to the fringes of his mind out in the frozen wastelands beyond The Wall.

The plane of your flesh was velvetlike, bathed in the flickering firelight of the hearth, dancing across your body with its incandescent glow. Jon’s jaw visibly tightened, restraining himself from touching you as he pleased. The longer he stood, gawking at your body like some clueless boy, the more emboldened you became.

Careworn digits gingerly wrapped around his vambrace, unfastening the buckles there before you guided his hand to your chest. “There isn’t a need to be bashful,” You whispered, noticing the way his pupils dilated when his calloused palm embraced your pliant breast. “I want you to touch me.” You gently encouraged him.

Jon appeared a touch forlorn, attempting to mask his gnawing fear at the idea of you seeing him. “It’s not you,” His smile was humorless — pensive, even. “Gods, you’re beautiful.” He huffed, hand drifting toward your hip, shuddering at the satiny texture of your skin.

Warmth crept across your spine in the wake of his breathless compliment, prompting you to unfasten his other vambrace. He aimed to distract you, mouth moving toward the spot where your jaw met your neck, beard scratching ragged against your flesh.

He palmed your breast, reveling in the softness of you beneath his rough-hewn hand, tracing along your hip until he squeezed your derrière. Everything about you was plush and inviting, as if you were a goddess incarnate.

Jon’s kiss became hungry, wanton and passionate as his mouth peppered itself along your throat, from your jaw to jugular. He treated you kindly; gracious hands that melded themselves to your form, like a sculptor to his masterpiece.

Saccharine soaps and hints of underlying flora clung to your flesh like a springtime haze, powerful enough to melt this ice he felt. You brought with you such warmth that it threatened to swallow him whole; he delighted in it, letting you shake the frost from his bones.

Lips danced together with a long-repressed passion, now exploding like crackles of fire within a hearth, spontaneous yet heated. You kissed Jon as if he might slip away from you, turning into dust between your fingertips.

A low moan stirred within the depths of your throat when his fingers toyed with your pebbling nipple, prompting you to grip his tresses with an unexpected harshness. You mumbled a sheepish apology, yet he paid little mind to it, dusky hues swirling with an ardent adoration that made your stomach churn.

As your hand drifted to the hem of his worn, linen tunic, he very nearly stopped you — yet, part of him wished for you to see him without a spoken word. Jon’s chest tightened with quickened breaths as you kindly maneuvered the clothing away, and he watched, hues fixated upon your bewildered countenance.

A battlefield — innumerable scars, so fresh that you nearly held your hand over them to stop the bleeding, gouged across his pallid flesh. One that seemed to sting the most rest over his heart, curved and garish, the stroke of a vengeful knife that ended his life.

Wordlessly, you lifted your hand, fingertips tracing across his chest, feather-light and disarmingly gentle; the opposite of the knives that had left their mark. Your brows furrowed together, and you wondered how he could’ve survived something like this — if he survived something like this.

Jon shivered at your embrace, as sweet as the maiden’s grace, caressing him with your resplendent touch. He held you close, arm caging you in, his other hand stroking beneath your breast, above your ribcage. “I didn’t make it,” He rasped, noticing the glimmer of understanding in your eyes. “I’d like to think that the Gods wanted me to see you again.”

His smile warmed you, more than any blazing hearth could, more than that of summertime. A fluttering sensation spread throughout your chest, followed by a hitch in your throat that you stumbled over. “Jon,” You whispered, stroking across his chest with a peculiar tenderness. “I am so sorry.”

It wasn’t the time for condolences — such sentiments could wait. Jon didn’t want your coupling to be soured by what had happened, and instead, he shook his head. His yearning for you trumped that of any sorrow and mulling over death, prompting him to press his mouth against yours once more.

The kiss seemed to convey the unspoken message, his desire to tend to you before discussing the intricacies of his scars. Jon dutifully dipped down to kiss your throat again, and then your collarbone, guiding you towards the fur-laden expanse of his bed.

As you lowered yourself onto your back, Jon kicked his boots aside, crawling across the thick mound of pelts to cover your body with his. You sluggishly spread your legs, allowing him to reside in the space between, palms planted on either side of your head.

Each heated kiss blossomed across your flesh, as he peppered his lips along your shoulder and collarbone, descending toward the valley between your breasts. It was flesh he’d longed to grace, savoring every second spent; his mouth smoothed across the silken flesh beneath your breast.

“Jon,” A sigh of passion tore past your lips, gooseflesh coalescing along your spine as he continued his descent, knowing exactly what he sought. The heat between your thighs sang to him like a siren’s song, and you weren’t about to intercede. “Please, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

The ragged scruff of his beard scratched pleasantly against your skin, the sort of burn that left you aching for more. He kissed across your stomach, inch by agonizing inch, hand reaching back to caress along your calf. It was slow, exploratory — he wanted to learn every curve, every dip and expanse of flesh.

A hazy heat gripped your surroundings, as if everything had become feverish, touched by a fog of warmth that permeated you, sank into him. Doe-eyed hues flickered toward the taut muscle of his back, the blackness of his curly tresses, the scar around his eye.

Planting a kiss against your hip bone, Jon sighed into your thigh, hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. His belly churned with an excitable heat, having waited for such a terribly long time to finally have you. He smoothed his calloused palm along your leg, ascending until he held your haunch.

Gods, you were in ruins — Jon hadn’t even placed his mouth upon you, and you writhed in anticipation. No man had been courageous enough to treat you this way, yet Jon lacked hesitation, settling onto his stomach as he bullied his way between your thighs.

Raking hot embers across your cunt, Jon lapped along your slit, eyelashes fluttering at the sound of your euphoric whimpering. He hadn’t heard a sound quite like that before, and from your lips, it was abhorrently sinful.

He sighed your name; reverent, a prayer only spoken between Gods and men — and you are no man. It made you shiver, belly filling with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, soothed only by the sweet laps of your lover’s tongue.

Jon’s mind reeled with the sight of you — flushed with pleasure, visage contorted into a look of complete and utter bliss. He continued without pause, nose brushing across your mound as he buried his tongue into you, greedily lapping at your cunt as if he were a man starved.

Your heart hammered beneath your breast, that of sheer excitement, consuming you like a tidal wave as you brazenly reached for his tresses. Sinking your digits into the crown of his tousled curls, you tugged, showing your appreciation in an unorthodox manner.

“J—Jon!” A strangled moan tore past your mouth, wisps of air being ripped from your lungs. Jon was inherently greedy, consuming you in the way that you deserved, finding his solace between your thighs. His dutiful lapping continued, from the pearl of your cunt to your aching entrance.

Akin to ice against your skin, Jon’s palms glided along your thighs, moving to trace your hips. His mouth was like a wave of fire, beard searing the silky flesh of your legs as you involuntarily squeezed his head. You hadn’t intended to suffocate him, but it was a worthwhile demise, in his perspective.

One hand fisted the furs, digging in until you threatened to rip it apart, hips occasionally jerking and jolting forward into his mouth. He hadn’t tasted something as sweet as you, like a fine stout coating his tongue, leaving him intoxicating; craving more.

His eyes had nearly fluttered shut, half-lidded slits that occasionally flickered to catch a glimpse of your blissful countenance. Your back arched from the furs, seeking his mouth with reckless abandon as he lapped along your cunt, tongue briefly flicking over your clit.

It was as if you’d been struck by lightning, body bristling with a long-repressed pleasure, something that only he could cure. The sensation of his calloused skin against your plane of silk was a satisfying juxtaposition — he never wanted another’s touch again.

Jon burned for you in every way imaginable, a sonorous groan ripping through the depths of his throat as he moved to lap at your cunt again. His ministrations were slow, made to explore and to savor you instead of letting it all become rushed.

Your fingertips brushed across his scalp, untangling his curls from the half-bun he’d placed them into. They fell across his head, dark and somewhat cropped. He groaned at the sensation, feeling you pull and grip his tresses, guiding your hips closer.

Rough-hewn hands gingerly kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thighs, caressing their way up and down in a soothing manner. Jon savored your taste, letting your nectar find its purchase against his chin, glistening along his lips. He kissed your clit, evoking a breathy sigh from you.

It had been such a long time for the both of you, intensified by feelings of a long-seated desire and carnality, friendship transcending all bonds of propriety. Jon felt his cock twitch within his trousers, incessantly throbbing and straining against the thicker material, longing to be inside of you.

A cry of delight tore past your mouth as you involuntarily jolted forward, grinding yourself into his mouth. Jon treated you to a barrage of eager laps of his tongue, from your entrance to the sensitive pearl of your cunt.

Dragging his tongue in languid circles around your clit, he watched as you quivered and moaned, mouth agape, back arched off of the furs. Knowing what path to follow, he showed attention to your neglected pearl, nose buried into the softness of your mound.

“Jon,” You sputtered, thighs molding themselves to either side of his face, feeling the scratch of his beard rake itself against your silky skin. He listened, dutiful and with a burning desire to please you, continuing to lap at your clit. “Gods, don’t stop.” A trembling exhale left you.

It was then that he melded his lips around the aching bud, beginning to suck on your pearl with a pang of vigor. You shuddered, rattling like a leaf as you haplessly tugged on his mane of curls, hips tilting upwards into his mouth. You whined, fisting the furs at your side.

Jon did not relent, feeling the ironclad grip you assumed, knowing that he was bringing you close to your release. White-hot sparks fluttered across your vision, body singing his praises, collarbone glittering with the first inklings of perspiration.

A strangled gasp tore through your throat, followed by a myriad of moans and pleading whimpers, seeking friction against his mouth. Your release was fast approaching, like a tidal wave of heat, flooding across your body with its intensity. Jon’s name emerged from your lips as if it were the only word you knew.

The pinnacle of your release made you feel as if you were floating, legs shaking in the blissful aftermath, feeling Jon lap at your core a few times over. You exhaled, chest heaving from exertion as you loosened your hold upon his tresses.

“You’ll have to let me do that again.” Jon murmured, and that seemed to ensnare your attention. Seven Hells — you would let him do that for as long as he pleased, whenever he liked. He pressed a few soft kisses against the inside of your thigh, crawling up to be near you.

“Whenever you would like, I will never protest.” You mused, gaze sparkling with mirth and adoration, inviting him back to being on top of you. Though, your impulses had other plans, as your palm pressed against his shoulder. “There is something I wanted to try.”

The softness of your suggestion seemed to placate Jon, who felt you push his shoulder until you guided him onto his back, hooking a leg over his lap. Gods, he would’ve stayed like that for an eternity if you asked it of him. As you situated yourself on top of him, Jon sat up enough to reach you, kiss you if he wanted to.

He felt your fingers move towards the laces of his breeches, and he didn’t stop you, observing you in rapturous hunger instead. His breath hitched, mouth moving inward to press a string of hot kisses against the column of your throat.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about this?” Jon’s confession emerged as a husky sigh, murmured against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. It came as a surprise, a wonderful one, and it only made your hands move in a borderline frenzy.

Freeing his cock from its confines, you moved yourself up upon your knees, aided by his strong, firm hands, coming to rest just below your derrière. The flushed tip of his length nudged against your cunt, prompting you to sigh with passion.

“Jon,” A pleading moan tore past your mouth, mind becoming fuzzy as you attempted to absorb the genuineness of his words. The Northern timbre of his hoarse baritone made you tremble, hands steadying themselves upon his shoulders. “Please.”

In a sluggish descent, he gently lowered you onto his cock, the both of you shivering in-tandem. The low, throaty groan that escaped him made your stomach churn with molten heat, letting you find your own pace. He was bigger than you imagined, filling you perfectly.

Mouths danced together and then clashed again, kiss after kiss of pure ardor, tongues becoming exploratory as you brazenly lapped at his lower lip. It was messy and hot, feverishly so, bringing the both of you to heel as you happily drowned within desire.

Your cunt was tight around him, slick with arousal as you continued to lower yourself, inch by blissful inch until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Jon’s heavy pants fluttered across your throat, mouth pressing near the curve of your jaw.

Jon was captivated by you, inhaling a gust of your soap-laden scent, beard ragged against your soft skin as he continued to kiss along your neck. His hands were resolute in guiding you, rocking you up and down along his cock, chest to chest with you.

Tangled sighs and low, heavy breaths wove together, forming a heated cacophony that filled his chambers with your lewd activities. The feeling of his calloused hands sinking into your plush flesh was mesmerizing, leaving behind a wave of goosebumps that crawled across your skin.

The sensation of his cock filling you completely, nearly kissing your womb, almost made you sob from delight. The friction of your bodies was a delicious thing, with your chest brushing against his, knees squeezing near his waist, hands gripping his shoulders.

A burning sting began to dance along your thighs, the exertion of muscle as you rode him, moving up and down in somewhat rhythmic motions. His cock speared you over and over again, filling you completely before you nearly drew yourself out, and back down again.

“Gods,” You sighed, nails sinking into the muscle of his shoulders, your countenance one of complete and utter pleasure. Leaving behind angry-red crescents against his pale skin, you didn’t want the feeling to end. “Jon, please — don’t stop!” With a simpering moan, your head began to roll back slightly.

Spurred by your softly-spoken praise and breathy sighs, Jon did not relent, hands sinking into your thighs as he guided you against his cock. The angle allowed for friction to blossom, chests bumping together, bodies tangled up within one another.

He kissed his way along your collarbone, bringing you up enough to trap one of your nipples within his mouth. The head of his cock remained pleasantly buried within your cunt, the warming of it making you writhe. He held you steady, greedily kissing at your pert breasts.

One of your hands fisted into his dark curls, tugging on them as if you were attempting to wrangle him into submission. His mouth peppered warm, needy kisses around the valley between your breasts before he let you sink yourself back down, cunt clenching around his cock.

Shameless strings of sinful noises left you in droves, eyes closed in a state of ecstasy. Jon groaned with you, vocalizing his own pleasure as he coaxed you down towards the furs, not wanting to place you there unless you consented.

With a brief bob of your head, you found yourself beneath Jon, his musculature covering you, content between your legs as he hitched one around his hips. The calloused plane of his palm wrapped around your calf, causing you to shiver at the foreign contact.

He could look upon your face, see the way your visage contorted into pure pleasure when he rocked forward, cock burying itself deep into your cunt. His skin was flushed, expression somewhat doe-eyed and awestruck, even if you were too lost to notice.

Your hands moved, one finding its purchase against his bicep, the other on his shoulder as his pace began to intensify. It was a chase, galloping after his release as he bent to kiss you, releasing a grunt into your mouth when you rolled your hips forward.

The wooden frame of his bed began to creak, groaning in protest from the vigor of his ministrations. You didn’t care if he was a touch rougher with you — Gods, you needed him. Heat swirled within your stomach, gnawing at your bones, making your toes curl in delight.

“Jon!” You cried, and that nearly sent him soaring over the edge, cock throbbing inside of you. The friction of your pelvis grinding against him almost made his resolve shatter into two. He lost count of how many times his cock sank into you — it was all blurring together.

The inevitable rush of euphoria reached him when his release came, hot and blistering, making him see stars as he groaned your name. Your nails were digging into his bicep, a gasp emerging from your throat when he thrust into you again.

Ropes of warm spend painted your insides, and he very nearly collapsed on top of you. He had the decency to hold himself afloat, hand tracing along your calf and to the crook of your knee, letting you unhook your leg.

Jon removed himself from you, attempting to gather his breath as he laid at your side, gazing at the dark ceiling above. Your breathing was just as unsteady and erratic as you drifted down from your buzzing high, wiping beads of perspiration from your brow.

Once he recuperated, Jon looked at you, noticing the smile on your face, the unrestrained delight you were experiencing as you rolled over. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured, watching as you began to shamelessly crawl into his arms.

“Quite the opposite,” You hummed, feeling him adjust the furs, drawing them both around you. Despite the feverish pitch of the room, the frost would settle in again soon, especially at the hour of the bat. “Were you jesting when you said you dreamed about this?”

Bewildered, Jon cast his eyes toward you, canting his head to one side. “Of course I was serious,” He huffed, surprised that you would think otherwise. “You were all I could think about, north of The Wall.” His confession was genuine, sweetly-spoken.

“You don’t have to dream about it anymore,” Your voice soothed him, a sound that he had yearned for with a blistering ache. He felt as if you would slip away from him if he let you go. “I won’t leave you.” Your smile was warm enough to melt even the hardiest of frost.

Jon’s lips tugged into a smile, one that you rarely saw beneath the brooding curtain of his visage. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, allowing you to get comfortable against him. The silence that followed allowed for some contemplation, absorbing all of what had transpired.

His scars seemed so fresh when they caught your eye. With a forlornly look, you dragged your fingers over the scar above his heart, feeling him shiver beneath your touch. Your body still felt as if it were caught in some haze, coming down from the blissful aftermath of your coupling.

“If you hadn’t come back …” You trailed off, attempting to refuse to think of some painful reality where Jon perished, but the thought briefly crossed your mind. If he had, none of this would be happening — he wouldn’t be holding you in his arms.

“But I am here,” Jon’s husky timbre shook you to your core as he planted his palm against your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not leaving you.” It was a promise — insistent, spoken from a man who now fully understood the weight of love, the weight of sacrifice.

You nodded, wordlessly reaching to hold his hand, feeling the arm he had caged around you plant itself against the small of your back. He drew circles there, brows knitting together as he leaned in to kiss you. It was hard and warm, so real — he made sure that you understood exactly what he meant.

Within the warm embrace of his arms, you let your head recline against his chest, feeling him draw you closer, until there was no space left between the both of you. He listened to the steady, shallow sound of your breathing afterwards.

At the edge of the world, he had you — and that was all he would ever need.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon needing to hold you after a bad day.

The tiny apartment was completely silent as Simon unlocked the door and stepped inside, head hung low and shoulders tense. Lights were turned down, tv was off; you were most likely already asleep by now. It was late, much later than he had told you he’d be back, but he had been struggling with the weight of his thoughts again today and had barely made it in. He would have let you know that he was going to be late… it was just…he couldn’t find the will to even shoot you a quick text.

It wasn’t like him to be concerned about who knew where he was or what he was doing, choosing to distance himself from everything and everyone that could potentially catch a glimpse of him cracking behind the mask, but right now all he wanted was to get back to the place he called home before he fell apart and the world would swallow him whole.

As quietly as he could he set his things down beside the door and continued on through the flat, catching little bits of you everywhere: your shoes lying scattered by the wall, the blanket you’d just been curled up in tossed haphazardly in a bundle on the sofa, a mug on the coffee table that had the remnants of your drink stuck to the inside. Scattered bits of you everywhere across his life as little reminders of what he had that waited for him here and for the first time all day it felt a little easier to breathe to know his angel was close by.

Passing near the kitchen, Simon spotted a piece of paper with his name scribbled on the front waiting for him on the countertop, your familiar handwriting obvious to his eye. He picked it up and unfolded it.

Hey baby,

I really tried to stay up, I promise, but you know how work has been kicking my ass lately. I thought maybe I could just take a nap until you got in, but I was worried that if I laid down I wouldn’t wake up, so I thought I’d leave this here for you to find. Didn’t want you to think I forgot about you. Just wake me when you get in, alright? I don’t care what time it is, I want to see you!

Love you.

P.S. I left some dinner in the fridge if you haven’t eaten yet. We can reheat it and eat it together. XOXO 

Christ, what did he do to deserve all this?

Always looking out for him, always making sure he had a place back in the real world whenever he came home. He held that piece of paper between his hardened fingers, the note more significant than it should have been after the type of day he had. You were the closest to heaven as he could get, more than he ever thought he would get to have and that’s why it was you he was trying to break down that wall to come to for comfort. 

His sight flicked to the fridge where you said you’d left him something; he was definitely starving, but just the thought of the effort it would take to eat right now was too much and the knot that rested in the pit of his stomach made him too nauseous anyway. There was something that would fill him far better than food could and he knew just where to find it now.

Moving on to the living room, he set himself down heavily on the couch and began to remove his boots and the outer layers of his clothing along with his mask, stripping away all the bits of his life as the stone cold sniper now that he was safe here in his little sanctuary. Stripped bare until he was down to his boxers, Simon gently crept towards the back of the apartment hoping he would make it to the bedroom before this feeling took him. 

Closer and closer he walked towards the other half of his heart.

The door stood slightly ajar to invite him inside and as he stepped up to it, he caught the hushed, rhythmic sounds of your breathing as you slumbered. It sounded so peaceful that he could have stood there in the dimly lit hallway and listen to it all night long. Just a few more steps, barely any distance left, and he would truly be home.

The room was completely dark save for the small crack in the curtains that let in just a bit of light from the streetlamp outside, helping him to find his way through the maze of darkness. As those brown eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Simon turned his attention to the bed and his heart skipped a beat. There you were: the outline of your body silhouetted under the covers, your head buried in your pillow, all cares left behind as you slept.

No sound did he make as he crept to the edge of the bed and lifted the sheets so that he could climb inside and up against your body laying in the center. One strong arm slipped up under your pillowed head while the other wrapped around your waist until you were encircled and he pulled you slowly so that your back rested up against his chest. His body molded into yours still warm from being wrapped up tight.

You stirred awake gently at the feeling of that familiar large body suddenly laying beside you. “Hey you,” you whispered sleepily, a smile on your lips as your eyes fluttered as they worked to open. “Tried to wait up, but I got so tired I had to go lay down. I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you.”

Only silence greeted you as a response. No chuckle at your predictability, no picking remarks about how you couldn’t even stay up to see him, just the sound of labored breaths in and out as he lay there in the darkness curled up against you.

Silence only meant one thing and you knew it well.

“You okay baby?” you asked, but again there was no answer. Only the squeeze of his arm around your waist pulling you in tighter to his chest gave you any sort of reply as Simon’s nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his eyelashes brushing over your skin.

It was clear just from the silence that he was far from okay, that he must have been bottling this up for God knows how many hours so that the world would not see that he was not always the tough, put together soldier he was supposed to be. But he could not hide it from you...he didn't want to hide it from you.

You heard him inhale deeply, trying to capture as much of your scent as he could until it filled his head: your natural musk mixed with the smell of the sheets and added hints of shampoo and body wash. That comforting scent that belonged to only you that he couldn't ever get enough of, the one that helped to relax his troubled mind. Instantly the tension he had been carrying like a boulder upon his shoulders all day finally released him from its stranglehold. 

Gentle, exploring hands tentatively went up under your baggy shirt, one of his old worn ones you loved to wear to bed to keep him close even when he wasn’t there, as he just wanted to make contact with all that delicately soft skin. He traced over curved paths he knew by touch alone: it was soft, it was familiar, it was safe and his heartbeat slowed as the ache in his chest dissipated enough that he could finally talk.

“Bad day,” he whispered finally, warm breath against your shoulder. "Really fuckin' bad day... again."

You rolled over in his arms until you came face to face with those sad auburn eyes, moved by the shame in his tone. It broke your heart that each time he had one of these days he felt such guilt about it, as if he simply should have been over it all by now, as if he wasn't human, but you were not about to let him overthink the struggle. There was nothing to be shameful about.

“I’m sorry baby. These things just happen, you know, but its alright; we'll get through it together, ” you said quietly, fingertips gently running over the line of his eyebrow, down his cheekbone and further to his jaw in soothing circles.

Together.

Simon closed his eyes and eased into your hand as you traced patterns across his temple and through the cropped sides of his hair, letting the vile, churning thoughts rummaging around in his brain to fall away. No one else could ever see him like this save for you, no one else's touch he craved more than anything to bring him back into himself after the day had brought him down so low. 

He brought his hand up and placed the tough palm over top of yours to hold it firmly against his cheek as if to make sure that all of this was real, that you were not simply a mirage cast by his broken mind. 

“You’re home now, baby,” you reassured him as he took deep breaths in and out with his eyes closed, only wanting to feel you. “It’s gonna be okay, I got you.”

Home, still such a strange word for him.

Wherever you were that was home. Not a place, but a person, one who made certain that no matter how far he drifted she would always pull him back in. Simon had never had such a tether before, but fuck did he need it. He could feel it like medicine running through his blood, when you held him he could feel the chemicals rush to soothe the gaping wound in his heart.

Pulling your hand off his cheek, he brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the surface before leaning in to give one to your gentle lips. You embraced him back with such tenderness as if to remind him of that promise you had made to each other that neither of you would have to traverse the hell of this world alone.

“Home,” he repeated the tender word in his gravely tone, letting the emotionless second mask fall away. "I hope ya know... that you are my home, sweetheart."

You smiled. "You're mine too, Simon."

He took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Bein' near ya is the only fuckin' thing that seems to help quiet the shit in my 'ead these days."

Pulling him back in, you gave him another kiss. "Then get nice and close," you said softly as you squirmed up under him more, setting his arm back over you.

Securing his arms around you again he moved over top of you so that his head rested against the middle of your chest, ear pressed in against your sternum to listen to your heartbeat rhythmically thump inside. With his hand still inside your shirt he drew his fingertips along your bare hips, not wanting anything more than your company tonight. 

Your calming fingers ran through his short hair and over his scalp as he counted the beats of your heart until he melted into your body. Discussion could happen later if and when he was ready, for now this was all he needed. However long he wanted to cling to your torso, you’d let him.

You were his life raft, pulling him back in and no matter how far he drifted and it was because of you that for the first time in his life he didn’t feel like he was going to get lost.  

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven 5 - the end (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. And then you asked for more :)

My masterlist is here.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Warnings: no proof reading, fighting, language, violence, angst/comfort (in a way), pregnant!reader

Things went out of hand pretty quickly. Dick joined you home and saw Bruce speaking with you. He was towering over you. You seemed very uneasy. 

“So you knew”

“That I was with a man who was actually in love with me and taking care of me? Yes”

“I am your husband. Is it how you are loyal to me? No, no, don’t answer. You know what, I understand. I haven’t been the best. But once he’ll be back to his world, I’ll do better. I’ll take care of this child and we’ll be happy again. Don’t you want that?”

You didn’t answer because you realised how obvious the answer was: you were in love with the other version of Bruce, not with the one you actually married. You wished for him to go away, you wanted things back like when he was gone. You didn’t even feel guilty anymore. You were allowed to be happy, your children too. Even Barbara started to enjoy the new Bruce better.

“Don’t you want that?” Bruce repeated, losing it over your lack of answer

Dick walked over and with the way the man greeted him, he knew who it was. The new Bruce was always smiling at him, always grateful to have Dick around. This Bruce was a little bit annoyed, a little bit too cold to feel happy around him. Dick wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you relaxed a little bit.

“Stay away from mom” Dick groaned

“I’m not… For fuck sake, can you all stop acting like if I was the intruder here? I belong here, this is my world, my family, my home!” Bruce was getting angry

“Then start treating us better already” Dick continued

“How fucking dare you?! Without me, you’d be nothing” Bruce started to scream

“And you how fucking dare you talking with that tone in front of a pregnant woman? A woman you said you loved too. But really you never knew anything about that, did you?”

The batfamily had always been pretty protective of you, but it was even worse now you were pregnant. And to Dick, his former father was actually a threat to the family. Because it finally felt like a family and after everything that happened, he didn’t want to lose it.

Everything happened in a blur after that. The “real” Bruce threw a punch at Dick, out of pure anger and despair at being so easily replaced. They started to fight. They had no mercy. Actually, all the anger they always felt toward each other was finally getting free and making them even more ruthless.

Alfred quickly grabbed you and guided you away from the two men, finding you a safe place to lock yourself in until everything would settle down. Alfred wasn’t too sure what to do. He had guessed something happened when his Master started to treat everyone like Alfred always wished he would. For once, he had decided to pretend to not understand. But now, to be fair, he wasn’t recognising the man he raised and he thought that maybe he was gone in this other world. Or maybe he never truly existed. He just wanted them to stop fighting, but he didn’t know how to.

You called your lover, you tried to explain to him what was going on, but you were getting close to a panic attack. 

“It’s alright, my love, it’s alright. I’m on my way. Stay where you are, stay safe. This is all that matters to me. Jason will come find you so you won’t stay on your own, okay? I just need you to breathe in and out. Can you do that? For me? I know you are strong. You are amazing, my love. I just need you to trust me” he smoothly told you, trying to appease you no matter how tense he was himself getting.

But all that mattered was you. Always you.

“I… I trust you” you finally manager to whisper

“Good. Lay down and breathe, my love. I’ll be home soon”

After that, he called Kate for her to deal with the security breach while he was coming back to the manor. On his way, he also called Jason for him to protect you and help you calm down. Jason didn’t ask a question. If his father needed you to look after you, he didn’t need to know anything else.

You heard a car coming by, the front doors getting opened and then more sounds of fighting. You knew that your Bruce had started a war with your former husband. You guessed he asked Dick to leave, because he didn’t want his son to get hurt. Hopefully, Alfred was taking care of Dick now.

You started to cry.

You jumped when you heard a knock at your door. Soon enough, you opened the door to a very worried Jason who locked the door back behind him and settled on the ground by your side. He held you and rocked you, whispered words of reassurance to help you calm down. He hated to see you like that.

When he arrived at the manor, he did his best to follow the instructions he received for once, and to not intervene in the fight between the two Bruces. He was now praying to whoever divinity who might hear him to get rid of the former Bruce. He didn’t want to be in the same world as him again. You both heard the sounds of the fight and it was driving you sick with worry. 

“What if he kills him?” you cried our and Jason shushed you

“He’ll be fine” he whispered

“You haven’t seen the way he was acting. He was so desperate to get his life back here, he promised me things…” you felt like you were going to throw up

“Ma, don’t worry. He may want his life back, but I can tell you that dad is actually very desperate to keep this life as well. And you’re pregnant with his baby. He’ll fight with everything he has” Jason tried to reassure you

Jason was right. The two Bruces were on equal strength, on equal intelligence and on equal despair. They both wanted and needed this good life in this world, but for that, one of them needed to be gone.

Both Bruces had thought of so many plans and different contingencies to take care of the other. They hadn’t really planned on simply fighting the other one. But despair drives everyone crazy and makes them act like animals.

You heard screams of:

“This is my home! I’ll kill you or I’ll send you back to your personal Hell!”

“This is my Heaven and you can’t get it away from me. You didn’t deserve any of this anyways. Even my wife knows it”

“She isn’t yours”

“That’s no what she said. That’s not what the children said.”

“Fuck you”

You had no idea how long it last. Forever, maybe.

“I’m going to get sick” you whispered when a terrible silence engulfed the whole manor.

Then you heard a lot of footsteps. The children arrived and were taking care of things. You jumped when Alfred knocked at the door.

“Mr Jason, Mrs Y/N, the fight is over. You can come out” he told you 

Jason had to help you get up because your legs didn’t want to obey you anymore. You opened the door and Cass helped you walk to the living room with Jason. Everyone was so tense.

“How’s Dick?” you asked Stephanie who walked by

“He is fine, Duke is with him right now, to make sure he is all good” she answered and you felt a little bit better knowing that

Damian was sitting on the ground with Tim. They were both looking at the two Bruce Wayne lying on the floor. One was stabbed, the other one was tasered. They were unconscious. Damian was lost, Tim was trying to take care of the wound. 

“Baraba called Leslie, Alfred is waiting for her” Cass told you before helping you sitting down on a chair

“What are we going to do?” you whispered

“We need to make a choice” Jason told you

After a little while, the whole family was in the room, looking at the two men. The choice was pretty easy to make. 

Your former husband was locked up in an unbreakable room. Leslie took care of him while he was unconscious, and after that only Alfred talked with him. Damian sometimes too, but he never let his father go. Deep down, you knew that this fate was even worse than just killing him. But you couldn’t kill him; you needed to send him back to the other world, because this world didn’t have any Bruce Wayne now and who knew what the consequences could be.

When your lover woke up, he was in his bed. You were sitting next to him, holding his hand in yours. 

“Welcome back, darling” you whispered

“You choose me” he understood, fully relaxing against the mattress

“We choose happiness. Whenever we’ll find out how, we’ll send him back to the other world. For the last time, hopefully”

“I’ll make sure of it” he hummed before kissing your fingers

The man you loved never had any more nightmares about the other Bruce.

And you neither.

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

Taglist for this series <3 (you’re my heaven)

@bat1212

@karakento

@kneelforloki

@nosebeers

Thanks for the ideas & the comments <3

@motherofdragons1998

@silverklaus

@alishii

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[homesick4la]

homesick — hamzahthefantastic

contains: fluff!!!!! also talks abt feeling anxious and stressed bc i am feeling anxious and stressed lol

summary: after a week long work trip, all you desire is the comfort of your boyfriend.

a/n: short n sweet fic but i might be working on a longer halloween themed one…maybe…heheheh..

you walk off the airplane. you’re exhausted from the busy week you spent working in los angeles.

as much as you loved that city, you were eager to leave it.

when you moved to toronto two years ago, you were nervous. you knew absolutely no one.

but you made great friends. and even got a boyfriend, hamzah.

you two met when you moved into his apartment building. you exchanged glances in the hallways and made small talk in the elevator until you eventually grew closer.

now you two had been together for over a year and moved into an apartment together.

he made toronto feel like home. and god you were homesick.

you walk out of the airport, instantly met by the crisp autumn air. you scan your eyes around, finding hamzah’s honda civic parked right where he promised. hamzah leans against the car, swiping away on his phone.

you approach the car eagerly. the second hamzah sees you, he rushes to grab your suitcase, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“hi beautiful, how was the flight?” he asks as he fits your bags into the trunk of the car.

“it was okay. i couldn’t really sleep. the woman next to me literally had her shoes and socks off- it was all i could focus on.”

a look of disgust washes over his face, “dogs fully out on the plane is crazy.” he laughs.

you two talk for the rest of the ride back home, giving each other a recap on your week apart.

once you arrive home, hamzah carries your bags up to the apartment. you unlock your front door, holding it open for him. he drops them to the floor and instantly, his hands go to your waist.

he snakes his arms around your back, lifting you up in the process. your arms wrap around the top of his shoulders.

your head fits in the crook of his neck like matching puzzle pieces. and the warmth of his skin on your face brings you an immense sense of relief.

all week you’ve been repressing your emotions. there’s been so much going on in your life- drama from family and work. you’ve just been too busy to address any of it.

but now, safe in your boyfriend’s arms, you felt all your emotions began to resurface.

you sigh into his embrace, feeling tears threatening to fall from the corner of your eyes.

“you okay?” he questions. his voice is soft and his tone is gentle.

that simple question makes you fall apart. you can’t help but cry on his shoulder.

“i missed you so bad.” you let out through your cries.

he sets you down on the ground, bringing his hands to your face and using his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from your eyes. his brows knit together worriedly.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

“just stressed with, everything.” you explain, “feels like i haven’t got a break lately.”

he walks you over to the couch in your living room. he grabs your waist, placing you on his lap.

“you can talk to me about it.” he says, running his hand up and down your back soothingly.

you nod and lay your head on his shoulder once again.

“everything feels so difficult- and i’ve been feeling so anxious all the time and i don’t know how to stop it.” you explain, worried that your emotional rambling made no sense.

hamzah wasn’t sure how he should respond. he was so nervous he might say the wrong thing.

“is there anything i can do?” he asks, sweeping your hair behind your ear with his fingers.

you shake your head, “this is good.” you lean closer into him.

he maneuvers the both of you so that you’re now laying down on the couch. lying there face to face with arms wrapped around one another.

“i wish i could make it all go away.” he whispers.

his voice is so genuine it makes you want to cry even more. you never thought you’d find someone that truly cared about your feelings.

“you make it better.” you smile softly. “it was just hard being away from home.”

he rubs your back lovingly.

he loves that you feel at home in toronto now. he remembered the way you used say you felt out of place in the city.

“i’m sorry you had a hard time on your trip, angel.”

“s’okay.” you reply.

“feels good to have you home.” he says, kissing the top of your forehead. “i was losing my mind over here- had me talking to the cats.”

you laugh at the image of him ranting to red and blue.

“you wanna order food and watch a movie?” he asks softly- knowing just how much comfort you find in a movie night.

“yeah.” you smile.

he releases one arm from his hold on you, pulling out his phone from his back pocket. you start to pull away from his embrace to give him space to order the food.

“no no! c’mere.” he demands, hooking his arm back around you and holding his phone in his hands behind you. he continues to type away on his phone with you in between his arms.

you giggle at this. you absolutely loved when hamzah was clingy with you.

“thai food?” he questions.

“mhm, you know me so well.”

you two spend the rest of your night eating too much food on your couch while watching all of your favorite rom-coms.

hamzah makes an effort to make you laugh all night, cracking numerous jokes during each movie and pretend snoring during the less exciting scenes.

your boyfriend doing everything he could to cheer you up meant the absolute world to you. you were so so happy to be home.

a/n: feeling like this is so so cringe but i think that about everything i write lol but i wrote this quick and did not proofread so sorry lol k bye muah

[naturesapphic]

Can you do a Billie Eilish fic where reader has insomnia and it’s to the point reader doesn’t really sleep anymore (they are studying for law) so they are always in there study sometimes reader comes home REALLY late from studying and they have an energy drink in there hand and books and papers in the other and billie woke up real early to record and when she was going downstairs she seen reader asleep at the table Billie  finally seen them up close and seen how horrible they looked and reader woke up feeling like something was watching them they seen it was Billie and Billie asked how long has it been since reader has slept( the rest is up to you I just wanted to give some story to it PS I also love your fix and I love your channel sorry if it was so long. Love you so much bye❤️)

Energy Drinks Doesn’t Help with Insomnia

Billie eilish x insomnia!fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Walking up to the door of your shared house with your girlfriend Billie while you had papers, your book bag, and a Red Bull in your hands. You somehow to manage to unlock the door and open it, quietly walking in and going into the kitchen to put down your stuff. You finished off the rest of your Red Bull and threw it away, as you made your way back over to the counter and start back on your studying again.

Billie woke up around five to start on some recordings when she reached over to feel you but was felt with air. She opened her eyes and saw that you weren’t beside her. Billie sighed and figured that either you didn’t come home or you slept downstairs on the couch. She slowly got up out of bed and went down the stairs to find you. Billie went into the kitchen and found you asleep at the kitchen counter with your books and laptop spread out around you.

She went closer to you and saw how tired you truly looked. You had dark circles and bags under your eyes, they also looked sunken as well which worried her. You felt someone staring at you and you woke up to your girlfriend looking at you with concern. “Oh hey bils…sorry…i got home and i tried to study more but i guess i fell asleep at the counter.” You explained and Billie shook her head at you. “I don’t care about that. What I care about is you and your well-being. Now tell me. How long has it been since you had sleep?” She asked.

You thought about it for a moment and you looked down in shame. “Three days…” you whispered but Billie heard and she let out a low gasp. “Y/n! That’s not good! You can’t be doing that to yourself!” She exclaimed as she steps closer to you and cups your face in her warm hands. “I know…I just have this big exam coming up and I just want to do good…” you tried explaining but Billie wasn’t having any of that. “Baby…sleep is very important and with your insomnia and drinking energy drinks, they are not doing you any favors my love. Come on.” She said as she closes your laptop and books.

She grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs into y’all’s shared bedroom. “Baby…I have to go-“ you tried saying but Billie cut you off as y’all entered the room. “Nope. Don’t want to hear it. You are sleeping missy. Even if I have to tie you down I will. I’ll even sleep with you because to be honest I didn’t sleep that well either since I haven’t had you with me.” She demanded and at the end giving you puppy dog eyes that always have you melting into a puddle. “Okay…and I’m sorry you haven’t been sleeping good either. I’d wish you would have told me, I would have tried to at least be in the bed with you while I was studying.” You said and she brushed it off as she points at the bed.

You nodded and went over and got underneath the warm covers. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you were in the bed. Billie came to her side and went under the covers as she scoots over to you, pulling you on top of her making you giggle tiredly. “Go to sleep baby it’s okay…just rest…” she whispers against your ear and you felt your heavy eyes close and you fall into a deep sleep in your lovers safe arms.

A/n: thank you to the two anons who requested these! I love y’all and your support <3 I hope the rest of y’all enjoyed it too and remember to stay hydrated and to rest! <3

[drgenius-reid]

Bathtime Bliss

A/N: This is my first piece for Spencer and I absolutely just took it from one of my previous fics for a different person but I think it's cute and I love it so I edited it, lol. I hope you all like it, L x Summary: You share a bath with your husband on vacation Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader  Category: Fluff Content Warnings: (18+ Minors DNI) Implied smut, sharing a bath with a partner, innocent kisses Word Count: 750

Every candle that you could find in the cabin surrounded the bath. You’d balanced them wherever you could– on the sink, on the ledge that sat behind the bath taps, on the windowsill, and the floor in safe spaces. Despite the bitter cold of the outside air that had started to seep through the cracks in the window frame, the bathroom was warm with steam rising from the surface of the water that you were submerged in. 

You were at one end of the bath with your legs resting against Spencer’s thighs, watching him with a playful smile that he mirrored. Getting him to agree to sharing a bath had been a struggle. He’d spent almost an hour telling you about the germs that are spread through bodies of water and how it could get uncomfortable. 

But with every argument Spencer made, you had a counter argument. After what felt like an eternity, he agreed to take a bath with you and after you squealed in excitement and showered him with kisses, you ran through to the bathroom and started to run the hot water. 

Spencer’s hands reached forward just enough that he could run his fingers over the skin of your calves under the water. Your lungs filled with air and you let your eyes flutter closed slightly. It was the first time in a while that you felt truly content. It seemed like there was no break in cases and you struggled to find the time to take a break and enjoy your husband. 

‘Do you think we should maybe do something tomorrow?’ Spencer asked. ‘We’ve been here for two days and we haven’t left the cabin once.’ 

Taking a sip of wine and allowing the liquid to burn your throat slightly, you blinked at him. ‘Why would we leave the cabin and go out into the cold, wet snow when we have such a soft, warm bed here?’ You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let it go sensually. ‘And we have been doing things. Lots of things. Fun things.’ 

Spencer shook his head at you playfully before splashing a little bit of water over you as his smile grew. When his hand moved back to your leg, he squeezed it before shifting his body in the water to get comfortable again. The water flowed around you, rippling around your body and heating up the areas of skin that hadn’t been submerged in a while. 

The bubbles that hadn’t popped while you’d spent over an hour in the bath were lapping at your skin. They tickled slightly and you couldn’t help but want to grab a handful and blow them over Spencer. 

‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed every minute of the things that we’ve been getting up to here,’ he whispered as he used his strength to push himself forward to be closer to you, ‘but we came here to enjoy the town. There are cute cafés and stores for us to go to. And there are bookshops too.’ 

‘Oh well if there are cafés,’ you chuckled. Spencer hooked your legs around his waist and pulled you into his lap as he ran his hands over the expanse of your back. ‘Breakfast out does sound nice,’ you mused as Spencer’s hands roamed your back delicately. 

‘So tomorrow when we wake up we will put on every single layer of clothing that we can and we’ll go for breakfast. After breakfast I was thinking we could walk around and do some shopping. I promised Garcia that I would take her a gift home.’ 

‘You promised her? I promised her too,’ you laughed. ‘I guess she’s getting two gifts.’ 

Spencer shook his head and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You sighed into it and held his cheeks softly to keep him where you wanted him. 

‘There’s an English style pub in town too that we could go to for lunch. And then when we’re back here, we camp in front of the fire to prevent getting sick.’ 

Spencer’s nose scrunched at the thought of being sick and you chuckled gently, kissing him once more. ‘That sounds like a good day to me, Dr Reid.’ 

‘I love you,’ he whispered against your lips, ‘and as much as this bath is very romantic and I love just being here with you and being selfish with your time…I-’ 

‘Me too,’ you laugh, kissing him again. ‘Come on, let’s get out and go to bed.’ 

‘Who said anything about the bed?’ 

[borathae]

“His touch is electric, making you sigh. “Relax, princess”, he whispers, running his hands along your body, “I’ll take the greatest care of you”. You close your eyes and fall into him. Falling is so goddamn easy when you know that it’s Yoongi’s hands which will catch you. And they will always catch you, no matter when or where he won’t ever let you collide. Alternatively: You ask Yoongi to take your anal virginity and he is more than willing to grand you this wish.”

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: soft Dom!Yoongi, sub!Reader, the tension in this makes me weak, they are so in love!!, first time anal sex, he is so gentle with her, lingerie, body worship, strength kink, a lil bit of thigh riding, praising & loving petnames, oral (f.receiving), rimming, he fucks her hole with his monster tongue help, gentle biting, anal fingering, use of a buttplug, hand holding, hair pulling (m.receiving), use of a vibrator, he fucks her gently at first then she wants it harder, gentle spanking, he cums too soon but keeps fucking her, creampies, using cum as lube, dirty talk, edging (f.receiving), multiple orgasms for both, squirting, belly bulging, his stroke game is insane, the most loving aftercare, honestly their connection should be illegal, I came outta this smut feeling like someone threw me against a wall, like hoLY FUCK Yoongi is gonna kill me, and the worst thing is that I actually think he’s like that irl, please help me

Wordcount: 9.1k

a/n: I need five business weeks to be able to talk to people again. This made me weak. And weak isn’t a strong enough word to describe the amount of weak it made me feel. It’s like my body felt the gravity twice as strong and I couldn’t get up. I’m talking shit rn, which is yet another indicator of how deeply this shit affected me. Be strong besties, you need that 🧡 

You haven’t been home in months. You counted the days. It’s been seventy eight days since you last saw your bedroom. Your plants are well taken care of by the others. You haven’t seen them either, except for phone calls and texts. You miss them, but you know it’s for the best. 

You are safe here, in good hands. You aren’t completely alone here. 

Yoongi is with you. He took you in one of the cars and is staying with you. Meredith called and offered the two of you her guest bedroom to stay, her library to study and her shed to practice. Of course you said yes. There aren’t many opportunities to practice with such skilled witches and it was an opportunity to go on a lovely summer holiday with your dearest love. 

The days are hot and sunny. It’s been summer ever since you came here and it will stay summer for a long time still. You love the weather here, while Yoongi whines about the bright sun on more occasions than one. 

Meredith offered you an opportunity to choose from all the different guest bedrooms, but you and Yoongi decided to take the one you had all those many months ago. Violet walls and mahogany furniture, with its window overlooking the garden and ocean. This room has seen so many of your most impactful memories and will therefore always feel like home to you. 

Yoongi agrees. He loves this room and on most mornings you have to be the one to wrestle him off of you in order to get out of bed. Truly, Yoongi is such a clingy kitten when it comes to morning cuddles. 

You love life here. You love knowing that you can wake up to the smell of the ocean and the sounds of the waves. You love knowing that your fellow witches will be downstairs with breakfast and that you can chat with them about the garden, magic and life here. You love their house because it felt like home and you love knowing that you can experience all of this with Yoongi. 

You spend a lot of time practicing your magic with him. Obviously as this was the main reason for this trip. Yoongi wanted to help you with learning perfect control and Meredith’s place was the perfect place to do so. Next to practicing, you also had a lot of free time with him which you spend doing the most amazing things imaginable. On Sundays the two of you take the car to the market to shop for next week’s dinners. He always insists on carrying the heavier bags while you are busy carrying flowers (he insists on paying for them and never takes no as an answer). Whenever you finished practice earlier and the witches were busy with coven duties, Yoongi took you to one of the many restaurants along the coastline. You shared so many lovely evenings in little restaurants, chatting over food for you and coffee for him. You have been getting to know each other even better because of it. Speaking of talking, you do that a lot. Whilst driving around, visiting the market, eating at restaurants or walking along the beach. Also in bed. Be it after a passion-filled night, a lazy evening or a cozy morning. You truly talk a lot and it’s never getting boring. 

Yoongi also spends a lot of time playing the guitar. It’s during those nights after practice and dinner and you agreed on healthy alone time, where you can watch him sit with his guitar by the beach or somewhere in the garden. Sometimes the wind blows just right and carries over his melodies while you relax on the patio with a good book. You like those nights as they are filled with tranquillity and somehow the cuddles you share afterwards feel a hundred times better. 

You also spend a lot of time swimming. Yoongi not so much, because he hates getting into the water, but you really enjoy it. You spend most of your late mornings swimming in the ocean and sometimes one of the witches will join you and you will chat over life there. 

Yoongi would either play the guitar sitting cross-legged on his towel or he would be somewhere inside, most definitely chatting with Jelena. 

You like Jelena. She is lovely and sweet and her very obvious interest in Yoongi is still topic of many teasing comments you throw at him. He always whines and pouts, which results in you giggling. He never acted on her interest. One night you dared to suggest that he was allowed to act on them if he wanted to, which resulted in Yoongi genuinely getting mad at you and staying out all night. You made up the next day and he made you promise him to never ever suggest something like that again. You never did again and hugged him for a good hour before you left bed.

Said night was already forgotten and forgiven these days and life has been great. Truly and genuinely great.

 You were in the shed. It was only an hour until sunset and the shed was flooded with golden light. The witches aren’t home today and won’t return until tomorrow. Coven duty somewhere in the mountains. A werewolf pack was attacked by werewolf hunters last night and the witches were called for aid. The hunters weren’t from the coast and still haven’t been located.

You and Yoongi stayed back. You for practicing and Yoongi for making sure the house stayed safe. The last time you saw him, he was in the kitchen with his lower arms covered in flour and his waist accentuated by an apron as he baked too many loaves of bread. That was a few hours ago.

A knock on the shed door makes you lift your head.

“How’s it going?” Yoongi asks. He is wearing a white button up and blue jeans. His arms are clean and the apron is shrugged off.

“Good. Did you finish the bread?”

“Yeah, they’re cooling down”, Yoongi says and walks to you. He sits down on the rattan chair next to you, resting his elbows on his knees. He reaches out, patting the top of your head, “show me what you got”, he says as he caresses the back of your head.

Yoongi gave you the task of practicing focus by painting flowers by using nothing but your magic.

You focus hard on lifting the brush and tipping it into the paints. You draw a small flower next to the one you practiced before he came inside. Then you end it with a heart in which you write his initials.

Yoongi chuckles fondly, rubbing the nape of your neck.

You place the brush back onto the ground, turning your head to beam up at him.

“And? That was really good, wasn’t it?”

“It was perfect, my love”, Yoongi praises.

You giggle, turning in your position so you were facing him. Like this, you are sitting on the ground in front him, cross-legged and with your eyes sparkling just for him.

“I’ll be an artist if I continue being that great, right?”

“Of course”, he smiles fondly, caressing your cheek, “you’ll be the greatest artist.”

“You’ll buy my art, won’t you?”

“Of course, my sweet princess.”

You wiggle your shoulders because he makes you feel good. He studies your face with love drunk eyes.

“Hey, Yoongs?” you ask.

“Yes, my love?”

“You know what we talked about on Sunday?”

“Of course. Why?”

“I thought about it and I think I want to do it tonight.”

Yoongi widens his eyes for just a second, before his fond warm gaze returns.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that for me, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not doing it for you. I want to try it”, you say, reaching out to feel up his shin mindlessly, “when you put your fingers up there, it felt really good and you’re always so gentle. And the witches aren’t here tonight, which means we can be loud. Yeah”, you feel your cheeks heat up, “I wanna try it.”

He smiles gently, caressing your chin as he has it between his thumb and pointer finger. His head tilts to the side, his eyes lower fondly.

“Then we gotta do it”, he says, “princess’ orders, yeah?”

You laugh, nodding your head. Yoongi chuckles and places his hand on the back of your head to tilt it up and kiss your forehead.

“You’re so cute”, he says, guiding his kisses down along your nose until he can claim your lips in a kiss.

You sigh, hooking your arms behind his head and getting to your knees instantly. Yoongi’s body follows your movements instinctively and just seconds later, you are on his lap without the kiss ever turning awkward.

Yoongi runs his big hands up and down your body. He feels up your legs, butt, hips and back, he lingers on your cheeks and switches up between touching you and hugging you against his chest. It feels so good. He feels so good.

By the time, you break the kiss for the first time, your hips are squirming on his thigh and your breathing is quickened. Yoongi looks up at you warmly. His chest heaves up and down as well, his hands are on your hips.

“You got me so good”, you say and giggle.

“I know, princess love. I can smell it”, Yoongi says, smiling fondly.

“God, embarrassing”, you say, hiding away in the crook of his neck.

“Why?” Yoongi says and chuckles, patting your butt, “I like it. Why’s it embarrassing?”

“Because I can’t even be secretly horny with you.”

He laughs, “why you wanna be secret about it? Don’t hide that from me”, he says and grabs your butt just so he can tug you snug against him. You gasp because of it, writhing from the sudden pressure on your warmth, “I love that smell, don’t you dare tryna keep that from me”, he rasps, moving your hips back and forth.

“Yoongi”, you sigh, feeling deep tingles in your tummy.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Feels good.”

“Mhm, I know”, he whispers and stops even if you whine in complaint.

“Don’t stop.”

“Mhm”, he hums, getting to his feet with you in his arms, “let’s get you inside. It’s getting too cold.”

You know what will come soon and it makes you press yourself closer to him.

“But you have to go somewhere else when I get cleaned. It’s embarrassing”, you tell him.

“I promise. You can have all the privacy you need.”

 Yoongi goes downstairs as you get cleaned. Of course he does, because when he promises something he actually means it. You don’t feel stressed or nervous about getting yourself ready for him, because you know that he will give you all the time you need.

You don’t bother to put on clothes once you are happy with the result. Instead, you pick out a set of lingerie with matching stockings and the necklace Yoongi got you. A droplet of his blood was infused into a blue gemstone and the purest gold frames it in a delicate heart shaped pendant. Knowing how much such a present meant with him makes you want to cry each time you put it on.

You feel really pretty, making your way downstairs with a skip in your steps.

You find Yoongi in the kitchen, humming to himself as he listens to music through his ear buds and washes the tomatoes he picked from the garden. He will make dinner with them later.

You close the distance between you and him, snaking your arms around him from behind.

“Mhm”, Yoongi lifts his head and presses back into you.

He dries his hands, takes out his ear buds and touches you.

“Don’t mind me”, you say.

He turns in your arms, showing off the smile he sports. It grows as his eyes land on your body.

“Oh, princess”, he says, picking you up just to lift you on the kitchen counter, “look at you. You shouldn’t have dressed up.”

“Why not?”

“Because”, he presses his hips against you, feeling up your lower back, “now I gotta rip this off of you. You are so beautiful, fucking shit look at you.”

You laugh, feeling your heart flutter.

“Do you like it?” you ask, posing for him.

“I love it”, he says, running his hands over the fabric of your panties and stockings, “where’d you hide that from me? It’s fucking beautiful on you.”

“In my suitcase.”

“Mhm princess”, he purrs, running his hands up your torso until he can trace your bra, “I should spank your cute butt for keeping this from me for so long.”

You draw closer, tangling your fingers in his long hair.

“Fuck it instead”, you whisper.

Yoongi’s eyes flit to your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a lopsided smirk tugs at the corner of them a second later.

“Deal?” you ask, gazing at his lips.

“You already know my answer, princess”, he rasps, drawing closer until his kiss is just a tilt of your head away. The tension twists your stomach addictively.

“I need to hear it”, you sigh.

“Fuck, don’t tease”, he rasps with heavy eyes. One more second without your kiss will kill him.

“I’m not. Say it”, you whisper, feeling dizzy from denial.

“Deal”, he breathes, placing his hand on the back of your head, “now fucking come here and let me seal it.”

You let him pull you in with a moan of his name and your legs closing around his waist instantly. He growls deeply, picking up from the counter to carry you with one arm. His hand never leaves your face, except for when he feels up your torso hungrily. 

He knows the way upstairs, using his senses to walk safely while his lips are lost in you.  

He nudges the door closed with his foot and carries you to bed. He doesn’t stop kissing you as he lays you down on it, claiming the emptiness between your legs for himself. Your legs are over his thighs, his knees are digging into the mattress. Like this, he can grind his clothed cock into you. The dent in his jeans is so unbearably noticeable to your sensitive pussy.

Yoongi breaks the kiss to instead dance his lips over your jawline and neck. His hands are feeling up your legs.

“You feel so good”, you sigh, writhing under him sensually. Your hands are on his chest, trying to open his shirt. 

“I can’t get enough of you, princess”, he whispers, changing sides of your neck, “my beautiful love, fucking look at you.”

His fingers play with the hem of your panties and slip inside. Not in the front but at the side of your hips, where your skin is so sensitive. He tugs slightly.

“Don’t rip them”, you say, squirming away, “I really like them.”

He smirks against your neck. 

“Fine”, he says and without warning picks you up just enough that your butt is off the mattress and he can pull down your panties.

You laugh, writhing in his hands with your eyes glued to his face. You get so giddy whenever he shows his strength. It’s so nice to know that you are in such strong and safe hands with him. 

Yoongi chuckles, “cute.”

“It’s so hot when you lift me.”

“I know princess, I can smell it”, he says and guides your panties to his nose to take in your scent. He growls playfully, flashing his eyes ruby, “so sweet”, he lulls, letting the panties disappear in his front pocket a second later. 

“Touch me”, you choke out, feeling lightheaded. There won’t ever go a day by where this shit doesn’t ruin you. 

“Patience. I gotta savour you”, he says, placing himself over you again. He lowers himself to your collarbones, touching your sides, “I’d be a fool if I didn’t”, he adds in a whisper before he runs his lips over your skin.

The touch is electric, making you sigh. You close your eyes and fall into him. Falling is so goddamn easy when you know that it’s Yoongi’s hands which will catch you. And they will always catch you, no matter when or where, he won’t ever let you collide. 

Yoongi lifts his lips when he is between your clothed breasts. He glances up at you, finding heaven in how blissed you look. 

“You’re so beautiful”, he says honestly and lowers his lips to your soft breasts to kiss them, “so fucking beautiful.”

“There…” you sigh, arching your chest into him. 

“There?” he whispers, sucking on the spot of before. The one which made you arch so cutely and which makes you arch even cuter right now.

“Yoongi”, you squeak in a giggle, writhing between his hands.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asks in a smile, feeling up your sides. 

“It’s just…good.”

“Cute”, he says, changing the paths of his kiss to feel up your tummy instead. There is no other tummy on this earth which is as perfect as yours. Yoongi loves every single inch of it, memorising the paths of it with his eyes closed and his tongue tasting your skin hungrily. 

By the time he reaches your lower tummy, your skin isn’t the only thing wet. You already were before, but now you are soaked, filling Yoongi’s nose with the sweetest scent. 

“Your scent, holy fuck”, he murmurs into you as he buries his face in the softness of your inner thigh. 

You reach down and twist his hair, bucking your hips up. His eyes open, meeting your gaze. 

“Please”, you beg.

“Don’t rush it”, he whispers and switches legs, “relax princess, I’m getting there.”

“Oh god, I need it so bad”, you whine, tugging on his hair. 

“Mhm, me too. Need to taste you so bad”, he lulls, running his tongue down your thigh. The contact is wet and hot, leaving you to throb around nothing. 

He turns his head. 

“Ah”, you moan without needing to be touched. The aspect of it is already enough to turn you weak. 

“So fucking sweet”, he rasps, letting the words swirl over your pussy.

“Please”, you beg.

“Mhhm”, he purrs, drawing closer until you can feel his warmth radiate of his lips.

“Yoongi”, you moan, tugging on his hair.

“Cute”, he rasps, putting distance between you and your sweetest pleasure.

“No, back”, you beg, trying to push him down but he is stronger.

He chuckles, “you’re so cute”, he rasps, doing the unthinkable of sitting up.

Your fingers slip from his hair this way, gripping his belt loop instead.

“Please don’t”, you beg. 

“Patience. I’m just getting the toys.”

“I just wanna be touched, please”, you whine, knowing that it is fruitless to beg.

“You’re adorable”, he says as he is busy with retrieving the bag.

Waiting for him to get the toys from his suitcase and return to bed is torture. You need his touch so bad. 

Yoongi sits down next to you, opening the toy bag to look through it. Not that he has to do a lot of looking as he has all the toys sorted into their own compartments. He is organised like this. It’s so attractive that he is.

He opens the buttplug compartment and takes out the silicon toy. You eye it and gulp.

“You can stop this anytime you need to, yeah? I won’t be upset with you”, Yoongi says, who watches it happen.

“I don’t wanna stop. I’m just really excited.”

Yoongi smiles, “I’m excited too, my love”, he says shimmying down your body with the plug and lube equipped. 

You open your legs without needing to be told to, looking at him with a racing heart. 

The lube bottle opens with a click. Yoongi makes sure that he covers his fingers thoroughly.  

“Relax”, he says and connects his lubed up fingers with your hole. 

“Fuck. Yoongi”, you get out, closing your legs in reaction. They fall open again a second later, your hips squirm needily. 

“You’re so perfect, my princess”, he praises, rubbing slow circles. You whine in reaction and buck your hips up. Yoongi understands instantly. It’s time for him to take the next step. With a little bit of pressure, he lets his middle finger slip inside. 

You inhale sharply, releasing it as a shaky “oh god”, a second later. Your eyes fall closed and your nose scrunches up.

“There we go. All relaxed around me”, he praises, pumping his finger in and out slowly, “you’re doing so well.”

“It feels really good.”

“Yeah? It feels good for me too, princess. You’re so soft inside”, Yoongi says, curling his finger. 

“More?”

“Already?”

“Yeah, please. I’m horny”,  you giggled the last words, earning yourself a soft chuckle from him. 

“Gladly”, Yoongi says and pushes his ring finger inside. You tense up, whimpering softly. He places his hand on your lower tummy and rubs slow circles on it, “relax your muscles, you’re too tense.”

“Sorry, it surprised me”, you say and follow instantly, shuddering because of how good it feels to relax. His fingers are filling you out so well, giving you just enough of a stretch that you are experiencing a constant wave of warm tingles. 

“There we go, that’s so much better”, he praises and begins scissoring them carefully, “you’re doing such a good job, my lovely princess. Relax, my love, so good”, he talks you through the amazing sensation, switching his fond gaze between your wet pussy and glowing face.

“It’s so good”, you sigh, “I like it so much.”

“I love it too, princess”, he says and slips his thumb to your clit as a reward for being the most perfect.

And there you go, tensing up again. But this time for different reasons. You mewl, tilting your head back as your hips buck into his hand. All the teasing he did before left you feeling so sensitive that this simple touch is already too much.

“Relax for me, relax”, Yoongi says softly, rubbing your clit slowly. 

“It’s hard when, when you m-make me wanna cum”, you stutter, writhing on the sheets. 

“Cute”, Yoongi says, slipping his thumb from your clit even if that makes you whine for more.

“Edging noo, is…no”, you mumble, cracking him up. 

“Whiney baby”, he teases, slipping his fingers out. 

“Yoongi noo”, you whine, “I don’t have to cum, I lied.”

He laughs, “yeah sure. Relax princess, I’m getting the plug. Yeah?”

“Yeah”, you say, glancing down at it, “oh god, I’m so horny.”

“Me too, love.”

He rubs lube on it and connects it with your hole. He places his hands back on your tummy, sending you a comforting look. 

“This will stretch you more than my fingers, but I believe in you”, he says and smiles, “but you can stop whenever, don’t forget that.”

“Just push it inside, please”, you beg, opening your legs wider. 

Yoongi lets his eyes flit down to your middle. He applies pressure and after a second of struggle, the toy slips inside. 

“Oh? Oh yeah that hah”, you chuckle and drop your head in the pillow.

“Too much?”

“Don’t stop, I’m good. It’s new, but I’m good”, you say, pushing into him. The toy slips deeper into you, faltering again when you reach the thickest part.

“Just one more time”, he encourages you and pushes gently.

“Yoongi”, you get out and then you reach for his hand to hold. He intertwines his fingers with you, looking at your face with his brows furrowed in concentration. 

The plug slips inside, filling you out completely.

“Oh fuck”, you press out in a whisper, squeezing his hand. 

“It’s bigger than my fingers, isn’t it?”

“Yeah?” you get out and mewl.

“You’re doing so well taking it that easily. I can take it out if you want.”

“No just…let me get used to it.”

“Okay”, Yoongi says and places himself over you. Like this, his hands are on each side of your head dimpling the pillow and his black hair hangs into his face. “I’m so fucking proud of you, princess love.”

“Yoongi…kiss me”, you plead, feeling how deeply affected you are by his praise. You relax around the toy and your tummy tingles like crazy, “I’m, I’m serious if you don’t kiss me soon I’ll, I’ll start cry-”

Yoongi interrupts you by kissing you deeply. Your brain turns off, your body shudders in relief. You are kissing him. You are kissing your Yoongi. And it’s paradise. 

You reach for him with a whimper of his name, twisting the front of his shirt. Yoongi lowers himself to his elbows, bending his arm in a way which allows him to cradle your head and play with your hair. The kiss to your lips breaks, but he litters your face with kisses and that makes up for it. 

“Don’t cry, princess”, he whispers, “I’m right here”, he promises, nuzzling into your neck. Neck kisses feel like heaven on normal days, but he’s got you so charged that you could cry out for him right now.

“Yoongi”, you whimper, grabbing a bundle of his hair. 

“Keep me close, princess”, he sighs, kissing a path to your cheek, “you’re doing so well with everything, I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

You spill tears. They were happy tears. Yoongi doesn’t notice them, kissing a path to your lips. He claims them, swallowing the whimper you let out. His right hand smoothes over your hair while his left arm snakes under your back. With a small show of strength he lifts your upper body, pressing you against his chest. He uses enough pressure that you can feel how all those tight knots in your chest burst. You didn’t even know that you had them, but feeling his warmth on your chest in a gentle and constant pressure relieved you of stresses you had sitting deep inside you.  

“I love you”, you press out because this is all you get out. Yoongi smiles against your lips, kissing his way back to your neck.

“I love you too, princess.”

He lowers you back to the sheets and slips his left hand to your side instead. 

“I love you so much”, you press out and sob softly.

“I love you so much too, princess”, Yoongi says, kissing his way down to your tummy. 

You don’t like that he stops cradling you like this, but you can’t even complain because he is worshipping your tummy. His big hands are gliding over your waist, holding you safely, while his tongue and lips take the paths they already took before. But unlike before, it makes you twist the fucking pillow in desperation. 

“I’m gonna go insane, princess”, Yoongi lulls, “you smell so fucking sweet. You know that?”

“Please don’t pull away again”, you beg, writhing in his strong hands. He is mere inches away from your pussy, “if, if you pull away I-I’ll cry.”

He chuckles, “you’re so cute”, he says, “relax, my princess. I won’t pull away”, he whispers and buries his tongue between your folds. 

“Oh my god! Yoongi!” you squeak put, closing your legs around his head and grabbing his hair with both hands. 

Yoongi purrs, pushing your legs apart gently. He keeps his hands on your shaking thighs to rub them, purring around your clit as he sucks on her slowly.

“Yoongi!” you mewl, digging your head into the pillow as you arch your back. Your legs slip over his shoulders and kick his lower back. 

“Mhm”, he grunts, punishing you by burying himself deeper. 

“Yoongi please, holy fuck”, you sob, tugging at his hair to both push him closer and pull him away. You have no idea what you need more. A break or for him to never ever stop. And he barely even does anything. He merely purrs and sucks on your clit, includes the occasional lick and squeezes your thighs. Yoongi could eat your pussy differently. Trust, that he could be very different right now and yet this mere appetiser of what he could do is already enough to make you act like a pleasure dumb idiot. 

“Yoongi”, another mewl of his name comes easy to you. 

Yoongi answers you by breaking away from you and forcing that addictive fire in your pussy to die down again.

“Why?” you croak and sob, “Yoongi why?”

“You’re so cute, holy fuck I gotta fucking put you in my pocket, you cutest princess”, he babbles as he kisses a path down to your plugged hole. 

He wraps his fingers around the base of the toy and with a kiss to your buttocks pulls it out of you. It feels warm and makes you moan. The girthiest part doesn’t hurt at all and the sensation of your hole closing up in sync with the toy getting thinner is unfamiliar but fucking addicting. 

Yoongi wastes no unnecessary time. He is a smitten man on a mission. A mission to make his dream girl scream on his tongue. He dismisses the toy and grabs your hips. With just a little bit of his strength, he picks them up and tilts them so he can bury himself between your legs. 

Your hole is still relaxed enough that he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He lets it grow until it’s a little longer than the plug was and it fills you out so well that he can feel your muscles trying to fight him.

“Yoongi”, his name slips off your tongue again and Yoongi feels your walls pulsate around his tongue. Your taste is richer than that of your pussy. Yoongi has to hump the mattress because of it, growling into you as he fucks you with his tongue.

“Oh god, holy fuck”, you moan, panting like crazy.

This feels as if you are getting the wettest and hottest toy stuck into you. You thought that getting your pussy fucked with it feels intense, but this is on a whole other level. You are so stretched out like this. Even more than you were when he plugged you. It doesn’t hurt at all. The kisses and touches and sweet licks made you so incredibly relaxed for him, his praises did the rest. So having his big, long tongue fuck your hole doesn’t hurt and yet it still feels as if you can’t do it. You shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t be allowed to feel so goddamn good. Your legs shake and try to close on him, but Yoongi shakes you off, burying himself deeper until the tip of his nose is buried in your pussy.

“Fucknmgn”, the curse is muffled by your body, but it still reaches your ears. Your scent is quite literally suffocating him and Yoongi lets you know just what this does to him by wiggling his tongue quickly and using his neck muscles to grind his nose all over your pussy.

“Why are you doing this?” you keen, throwing your arm over your eyes, “please stop, Yoongi. Please stop, please.”

“Hey”, he is off of you instantly, “hey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Please don’t do this, please just fuck me”, you beg, spilling tears, “I can’t take this anymore. Please just fuck me, please.”

Yoongi relaxes, slipping your legs from his shoulders to caress them instead.

“Don’t talk like this princess, I was so scared that I hurt you”, he whines, nudging you.

“It’s so good, I can’t breathe”, you whimper, sending him a blurry look, “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“Never”, he says, leaning down to kiss your tummy, “fuck, I just really fucked it for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now I know how you taste in both holes”, he chuckles deeply, “fuck baby, don’t expect me to be normal from now on. I’m gonna fucking live between your legs from now on.”

You mewl, “please fuck me. Please!”

“Are you sure?” he asks as he nibbles on your inner thigh. He is so close to your pussy that he brushes against you every now and then, “can’t I taste you more? Please?”

“I, I’ll cum if you do”, you stutter.

“Mhm, you’re torturing me”, he rasps and bites you just hard enough that you squeak.

“Please”, you giggle, twisting his hair.

He chuckles, kissing the sensitive spot, “fine, I’ll get ready.”

“Please.”

Yoongi breaks away from you to undress. Finally his tight jeans stop squishing his swollen cock. Yoongi throws them on the ground angrily. They were so painful to be stuck in. He steps out of his briefs and slips his shirt off. Then he runs his hands through his long hair. It falls prettily, framing his features.  

“Jeans are products of demons, no fucking joke”, he says, climbing back on bed, “I think I bruised my cock.”

You snicker, “oh no, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just glad to be with you again”, he assures you, connecting himself with you by caressing your hip, “let me fix you, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Yoongi lifts you and places you onto the mattress with you resting on your side. He pushes the leg, which rests on top, up the mattress, making sure that it’s bent by the knee. He runs his hand along your stockings and then up to your ass at the back of your leg.

“There we go. That’s better, isn’t it?” he speaks softly.

“Yeah…” you croak, twisting the sheets. You need him so bad that it hurts. 

“Tell me when you need a pillow”, he says and breaks the touch for the sake of getting his cock ready. 

“I’m comfy”, you say. 

“That’s good. Fuck ___, I’m so fucking hard you have no idea”, he lulls his words and a wet squelching sound fills the air. He is definitely jerking himself off with the lube. The thought makes you leak.  

“You won’t grow, will you? I don’t think that I can handle this yet”, you ask shyly.

“No princess, I won’t grow. Don’t be scared”, he assures you.  

“Okay, thank you for telling me that”, you say and turn your head. He is close enough that you can reach behind yourself and touch his hip, “please don’t hold back anymore.”

He smiles and lets you tug him closer, placing his hand on your hip. 

“I love it when you’re acting this way”, he says, holding his cock by its base so he can guide it to your hole. He pushes at your hip, fixing your position gently. Like this, you are exposed to him. Yoongi stares at it with ruby eyes, rubbing his wet cockhead against your hole. 

“So pretty”, he lulls, licking his lips, “can’t believe I had my tongue in there. You’re so goddamn pretty.”

“Please”, you beg, arching into him. 

“Ready?” 

“Yes. Please.”

“Perfect. You’re fucking perfect", Yoongi says and pushes into you. 

The breach doesn’t hurt, but it’s unfamiliar. His cock is definitely bigger than any of the other amazing things you took up your ass tonight. His fingers were nice, the plug intense and his tongue maddening, but his cock is filling. The word isn’t the sexiest, but it’s the truth. You feel so whole now that he is slipping inside. Like a part missing has finally returned to you. You whimper and tense up, reaching for his hand instinctively.

“Hurts?” he asks.

You shake your head, giving him a pleading look to please keep going.

Yoongi smiles and squeezes your hand. His eyes flit back to where he disappears. 

“Relax. I’ve got you”, he says and pushes deeper. His tummy tenses, and his brows furrow, “fuck. Relax my love, yeah? Relax”, his voice is shaking just a little.

“Yoongi, I’m so stuffed”, you mewl, looking at him with teary eyes. You are so glad that Yoongi filled you with his tongue before he did it with his cock. You don’t think that you could have handled how it is to truly feel him if it wasn’t for his tongue giving you the most intense sneak peek of it.

“Breathe for me, love. B-breathe oh fuck”, he falls to his hands, letting out a shaky moan. His hair falls into his face, “breathe. You gotta, gotta b-breathe.”

You can’t stop staring. His brows are furrowed, his lips curled back as he shows his fangs in a grunt. Being filled up by him starts to feel a million times better instantly. Which means a lot, because it already felt like heaven before that. 

“Breathe baby, fucking breathe”, he gets out and moans, filling you with his last inch. “Mhngn”, he lets out, scrunching his nose up, “breathe”, he squeaks.

“Are you okay?” you ask. 

“Mhm yeah, I’m fine. You just have the tightest ass ever, I’m fine”, he says in a pitched voice, making you laugh.

“Oh god, this is so funny”, you say.

“Don’t laugh, holy fuck”, he croaks and moans, grabbing your hand just to slam it into the sheets and pin it down. He rolls his hips into you in an involuntary thrust, his throat produces a little whimper.

“I can’t help it. I’m taking your cock, I’m happy”, you say between giggles. 

“Fucking fuck, you’re gonna fucking kill me”, he presses out under his breath and somehow forces his eyes to open. He turns his head, looking down at you, “you’re such a fucking goddess. Holy fuck.”

You squirm, clenching around him. You try to reach for his face, but can’t as he pins you down. So you end up holding his wrist with your other hand, mewling his name as you tense around him again.

“Wanna move”, he lulls.

“Please move.”

Yoongi pulls out halfway so he can roll into you smoothly. The sensation feels electric, forcing an honest and loud moan out of you. 

“Yes princess, keep moaning for me. I fucking love it when you do”, he encourages you, ending it with a small whimper again, “I’m gonna fucking cry. You’re so tight, holy fuck”, he whispers under his breath, chasing you in deep rolls of his hips. 

In and out, in and out. Feeling each of those movements so quickly after the other is a whole other experience. When he played with your hole or stuffed it, you didn’t have this constant change. But now you do and it’s making you gasp for air. 

“That’s it, princess. Keep breathing”, his voice is hoarse from exhaustion, “I’m gonna have to fucking nut soon, but don’t mind me.”

“God, don’t tell me that, you’re making me laugh again”, you say, having to crack up.

“Yeah fuck, it’s happening”, he says and groans, letting his mouth fall open. His hand squeezes yours as his cock throbs deep inside you, “you’re so fucking mean”, he whines, shaking atop of you. 

“Yoongi”, you gasp and moan, “Yoongi, holy fuck. Are you actually?”

“Yeah…baby”, he purrs. 

It sticks to your insides warm and wet. He is actually cumming right now. Two minutes and he is a goner. The thought that it is your ass which broke him so soon, makes you dizzy. You chase him with rolls of your hips, tensing up at the feeling. You’re so tight and now you're spreading his cum all over his cock, getting messy in the process. He slips in and out of you so much better, filling your veins with ecstatic pleasure.

“Yeah, yah, mhm”, he lets out, lowering his head to kiss your cheek, “fuck”, he chuckles, “sorry for that, I’d have died if I didn’t let go.”

“It’s fine. Just…I want more.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good now. Fuck princess”, he straightens up, grabbing your leg to bend it and open you up for him, “imma fuck that bred, little hole until you’re screaming”, he rasps, finally moving his hips. He starts off in a slow, yet deep rhythm, spreading you open for him with a strong hand pushing down on your hip and therefore keeping it tilted just for him. It gives your muscles a gentle stretch and opens you up so well for him that you can feel how you move around him.

“Yoongi”, you mewl, tilting your head back as your mouth falls open. 

“Does it hurt? I can slow down”, he speaks with a deep rasp on his voice. You know that overstimulation is keeping his cock sensitive, but because you’re dating a literal maniac he uses the pain as motivation to get you off. 

“Don’t slow, please faster”, you beg.

He speeds up, putting a smooth roll of his hips into the movements. His fingers dimple your flesh, his naked thighs collide with the back of your legs and his cock shapes your creamed hole. Like this, his hair slaps into his face each time he moves, forcing him to keep his eyes closed in order not to the get it all in them. He grunts each time he bottoms out, giving you glimpses of his fangs whenever he pulls his lips back.

“More, I need more”, you beg.

“Yeah? Reach into the bag, there’s a vibe in there.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You know exactly where to look. You used the toy on too many occasions to count. With trembling fingers you turn it on and press it to your clit. 

“Yoongi”, you mewl, writhing under him.

“That’s it, princess. Make yourself feel good. Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect”, he praises, using the grip he has on your thigh to pull you onto his cock. He meets his own movements in the middle, rolling his hips into you. 

“It’s a lot”, you mewl. 

“Yeah? I’ll slow down”, he assures you, but you start rutting back into him instantly, “fuck princess”, he is laughing lazily, “stop whining ‘bout it bein’ too much when you don’ mean it”, he lulls, connecting his hand with your buttock in a gentle spank, “so fuckin’ naughty.”

“More”, you beg, “you’re making me cum. More.”

Yoongi spanks you gently, gripping the flesh afterwards to part you and stuff you with his cock. His creamy cum is leaking out of you and covering his cock. The quick movements of his hips turned it all white and milky by now. Yoongi fucks it right back into you, covering your stretched rim with it and parts of his dark pubes. The view motivates him to fuck you deeper, harder, better.

“You’re so fucking perfect being all bred by me. My own perfect cum goddess”, he pants, slamming into you so hard that his balls slap your ass.

You mewl for more, clenching around him. And so Yoongi gives it to you. He spanks your ass, holding you open afterwards to watch his cock disappear inside your tight hole. 

“Now”, you croak and yelp up. 

“Yes fuck”, Yoongi growls, burying himself to the hilt and staying right there so he can feel you pulsate and throb, “you’re so fucking perfect, shit princess so perfect.”

“It feels so good”, you mewl, shaking like crazy as your body fills with warmth, “Yoongi, it feels so good.”

“I know baby, I know. Keep it right there, you’re not done yet”, he says and begins moving again. Slowly at first because he is aware that you never experienced cock up your ass so soon after your high. You are tight. So goddamn tight that if Yoongi hadn’t climaxed already, he would have done so right now. He grinds his teeth and growls deeply, dimpling your flesh from gripping you so tightly, “keep breathin’ baby, I’m not done. You gotta get fucked more, my perfect woman.”

“Yoongi”, his name leaves you like a prayer. You push back into him, thanking yourself for doing so as Yoongi uses the opportunity to tug you into another position. Resting on your tummy and with your hips held up by him. You use zero strength, shaking in his hands as Yoongi keeps pulling you onto his creamed cock. 

“Such a pretty princess, you’re made for my cock. It’s fucking insane how good you feel”, he praises and moans in a deep growl. His hips are angled differently this way. 

“What are you doing?” you mewl, kicking the sheets. You try to writhe away from him for the sole reason of being scared of how hard you are falling. You can feel his cock hit your g-spot this way. You know that he is still in your ass, as you feel stuffed to the brim, but he is still hitting your g-spot. He shouldn’t be able to do this to you and yet he is. You can’t handle it, it’s too good. You can’t handle it. “What are you doing?” you sob, barely holding onto the vibrator by now.

“Keep the vibe there, princess”, Yoongi orders you, eyes glued to your ass. He can’t believe how beautiful you look when he fucks you. 

“What are you doing? Yoongi please”, your voice is pitched in pleasure, your legs are shaking like crazy.

“You know what I’m doing. I’m giving it to you how you fucking deserve it. Feel how I give it to you?” he says, slamming his hips into you. Your ass is filled to the brim and your g-spot gets hit. 

You moan his name, arching into him. This is going to break you into a million pieces. 

“Yeah you do. You’re such a perfect, fucking woman, you deserve everything. Fucking everything. Fuck”, he growls the last word, throwing his head back as his body falls into the sensations. His hair tickles his shoulders this way, reflecting the deep shine of your bedside lamp. His lips part, glistening in the lights and looking especially pink.

Not that you can see any of this as you are falling right with him with your face buried in the pillow, moaning like crazy as he scrambles your insides in the best way possible. Night has been kissing the earth for way too many minutes to count and yet you haven’t noticed yet. He makes you see the brightest colours behind your closed lids. A warm summer rain has started to fall on the earth and even that you didn’t notice as all you can hear are Yoongi’s ecstatic grunts and your bodies connecting in sinful movements. Also the hum of the vibrator and it’s fucking taunting it. Your clit is going to burst if you keep pressing it on there and yet you don’t want to take it away. You rub a small circle, regretting instantly as you feel how this forces your body to fall even harder.

“You’re making me cum”, you mewl with your pussy throbbing around nothing and his cock drilling your ass so good it feels like he is rewriting your definition of pleasure.

“Don’t hold back, love. Fall into it, I’m right here. Fade into me, baby”, he encourages you, fucking his cock into you as deep as possible and hitting your g-spot exactly where you are the most sensitive.

“Yoongi!” you yelp, breaking around him. 

“Yes princess, that’s what I want from you”, Yoongi growls, picking you up even if you are shaking like crazy. He sits back onto his heels and bounces you on his lap. You are kneeling, barely holding your head up straight, “you perfect fucking goddess, cum for me”, he spits and presses his hand into your tummy with just enough pressure that you can physically feel how he is squeezing your g-spot against his cock. 

It feels like there is no barrier between him and your favourite spot. You scream up, dropping the vibrator. At least you try to as before it slips out of your fingers, Yoongi takes your hand and presses it back against your clit. He hugs your waist this way, slamming his hips into you so harshly the room fills with loud sounds of skin slapping against skin and the bedposts croaking for help.

“Don’t stop”, he growls, “you perfect woman are gonna keep that pressed there until you’re wetting my fucking thighs.”

“Yoongi, I can’t”, you sob, reaching behind yourself just so you can grip him. You manage to grab a bundle of his hair, twisting it painfully.

Yoongi moans against your neck, squeezing you closer by your tummy. The pressure in it grows, now it actually feels as if he was fucking you without any barriers. But you know that he is. You know because your stretched hole has been convulsing around his cock ever since he started drilling you this way. 

And you can’t take it anymore. The vibrator on your clit hurts so much, the pressure in your tummy is too much and his cock is ruining your ass. And there is this addictive feeling of having his naked, sweaty and hot body pressed against yours.

You break apart, screaming his name as you almost rip out his hair. And Yoongi growls like a fucking animal, fucking and squeezing and holding you hostage until you finally act how he wants you to act and you wet his thighs in harsh, strong spurts of warm pleasure. 

“Yes princess. Fuck, ___”, he moans and fills you with his cum. You smell so good and feel so tight around him, Yoongi just has to make sure that the last thing your hot walls feel is his creamy cum marking you as his’. They should remember who can stretch and fuck and drill them so good. Moaning and panting like crazy, he fucks you both through your highs, milking your bodies dry until they can’t give any more.

“No more, please. Actually stop”, you beg once the fire of pleasure turned into the painful burn of overstimulation and his cock feels painfully big in your tight ass.

“You’re already done”, Yoongi speaks gently, turning off the vibrator and throwing it to the side, “take a deep breath, I’m lifting you.”

You follow, releasing it in a loud gasp as he slides you off of him. His cum squirts out of you instantly, ruining even more of his lap. 

“Sorry, oh god”, you whimper, trying to clench.

“It’s okay, let it happen”, he soothes you, “you did so well, my love. Don’t worry about the mess, just relax”, he says and places you in the sheets as gently as possible. 

He drapes his arm over you, resting on his hand so he can nuzzle into the side of your face and kiss you.

“I’m so proud of you, you did amazing”, he praises.

“I’m, I’m”, you stutter, shivering like crazy. 

Yoongi presses himself closer, warming you with the naked skin on skin contact. 

“I’ll get something to clean you and then you can already slip under the sheets, yeah?”

You nod your head, looking up at him with teary eyes. He dries your cheeks, holding your face safely.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks. 

“No”, your voice is hoarse, “Yoongi?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I felt you against my g-spot.”

He smiles, “I know. Did you like it?”

“Yes”, you whisper and giggle. 

“I loved it too, my princess”, he says and kisses your forehead, “you did fucking amazing for your first time. You took me so, so well.”

“It was the best first time ever”, you say, wiggling happily, “you’re the best person ever, Yoongi Boongie.”

“Mhm”, he pecks your cheek, “no, you are. Now excuse me for a moment, I’ll clean us up, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Of course, my love.”

“I’m so happy with you.”

Yoongi feels his tummy flutter, “I’m so fucking happy too, you have no idea.”

He cleans your bodies, brings you water and changes the sheets. He talks about the experience with you in great detail as he does all those things, listening to your words with great interest and speaking his own with a warm sparkle in his eyes. You both come to the same conclusion that you really needed to do it again in the near future. Afterwards, he tucks you into bed and plays with your hair because you asked him if he could. And you feel so well taken care of that you could burst into the most colourful of fireworks.

The rain is loud on the roof above your heads, filling the room with a constant pitter patter. His face is mere inches away from yours as you share a pillow. Your heads are almost hidden under the blanket, looking out just enough that you can still breathe. He is still caressing your face and head. You are this close to falling asleep, but don’t want to close your eyes. You don’t want to miss out on his face. His hair is all messy, but in a pretty, breathtaking kind of way and his features are looking so pretty in the dim lights. He is truly the most beautiful person ever and your heart races like crazy when you think about the fact that he is yours.

“Should we buy a house here?” he breaks the comfortable silence in a soft spoken voice.

“What do you mean?” you answer him with your voice lowered as well.

“We could buy a house here. With a view of the ocean and a sun flooded kitchen overseeing the garden”, he says, “let’s buy one that needs renovating, so we can do it together. I have ideas for the living room. I’m thinking conversation pit with a huge sofa to cuddle on. Maybe mould it outta clay, paint it blue, but you’re better with colours so I need your advice on that. And I want a bathtub in the bathroom, a big one so we both fit.”

“You wanna buy a house with me?” you ask in a trembling voice.

“I’d buy a castle with you, but we already have one”, he says, making you giggle and sniffle at the same time. He chuckles, booping your nose with his pointer finger. 

“Yoongs, I don’t know what to say”, you get out, blinking rapidly.

“Yes, maybe?”

“You know my answer already, my beloved.”

“Please say it, it’ll feel so good.”

You smile, spilling tears, “yes Yoongs, let’s buy a fucking house here and get a goddamn conversation pit in the living room and a huge bathtub in the bathroom and, and let’s plant food in the garden and goddamn build a path to the beach. Goddamn it.”

Yoongi smiles, tearing up without ever spilling them.

“My love”, he whispers, cupping your cheek and running his thumb over your skin, “you’re my fucking everything.”

“You’re my fucking everything too, my love”, you say, closing the distance between you and him to kiss him. 

Yoongi wraps his arms around and rolls you to your back, getting lost in the kiss with you as happy giggles rumble in his chest.  

Days here at the coast are good. Great. Perfect. The days here are perfect.

[kookie4life]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Neteyam had to leave you behind when his family left the Omaticaya clan. But now he’s returning and hopes you haven’t forgotten him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: netayam x omaticayan! reader

The flight back was an excruciatingly long one. It left Neteyam with plenty of time to think about you. He couldn’t wait to hold you in his arms, finally be able to kiss those lips of yours he thought about every night. He missed your touch, your smile, especially when your dimples appeared.

He was planning to mate you the day his parents told him about the decision to leave and it had left a gaping hole in his heart when he couldn’t take you with him. He told you straight away and both of you decided to hold off the mating process until he returned as having a mate you loved so dearly so far away would only bring more pain.

The time of the flight also allowed his thoughts to travel to places he didn’t want to go to. However, one question was haunting his mind time and time again. What if you had already found another mate? What if you had given up on him? He couldn’t blame you if you had. He was gone a long time and if you had found someone else to love he would understand. But it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

Tuk’s cheerful voice interrupted his train of thought. “Mum!! Look! home!!”

Looking up he saw the familiar surroundings of the trees and the Ayram Alusìng floating above us. Swerving downwards they landed our Ikran and went to go greet Mo’at. After the formal greetings were out of the way, she opened up her arms and invited them all for a hug. Tuk was the first and went bounding up to her, talking about the animals she had seen underwater. Mo’at bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Tuk’s forehead.

Neteyam was vaguely aware of what was going on but his eyes scanned the crowd of people surrounding them hoping he’d find your familiar face somewhere. His mood dropped when he couldn’t see you. He stepped into the arms of Mo’at and tried to muster up his best smile for her. But it seems that he was an open book and when he went to leave she whispered in his ear.

“Vitraya Ramunong.”

His eyes widened before he beelined to where Y/N was. Moving through the bush and plants that had become so familiar to him he heard a voice. It was yours. He sped up and he finally reached his destination. Neteyam saw the back of you but he could not deny that he still thought you were beautiful. He crept closer but stopped when he heard you speaking.

“Eywa,” you whispered, “please let him be safe. please bring him back to me.”

He heard the desperation and despair in your voice and his heart ached. Stealthily, he moved closer until he was close enough to whisper, “Eywa has heard you.”

Gasping you turned around and there he was. Standing in front of you was your Neteyam that you dreamed of every day. Tears slipped down your face while you covered your mouth with your hand still in disbelief.

He pulled you to him, an arm wrapping around your waist while he wiped the tears off of your face. “My Y/N don’t cry.” Cupping your face in his hands he kissed you and that’s when you realised how much you missed him. Missed this.

Pulling away he murmured, “I see you.”

“I see you, my Neteyam.”

He had never truly felt at home until you were finally in his arms once more.

[vampykween]

husband!simon x reader except they hate each other and they probably always will :,( i’m in an angsty mood today sorry (but also not sorry it’s my fav) also this is barely proof read so sorry for any errors

“i fucking hate you.”

“yeah, yeah try a little harder love. hit me with something i haven’t heard before.”

“god you’re such an infuriating, egotistical, and moody asshole. sometimes i wake up and want to roll over and smother you with your own damn pillow.”

simon simply quirks an eyebrow at you and his lips turn up in a devilish smirk. “oh really? what’s stopping ya? please put me out of my misery, truly. you think i want to come home to you bitchin’ and moanin’ all the time, huh?”

your husband’s words add fuel to the already raging inferno inside of you. if this were a cartoon steam would be billowing out of your ears. there was very little, besides the fact that simon was far stronger than you, stopping you from throwing your hands around his neck and popping his stupid head clean off his shoulders.

“fuck you. god if i had know you were such a piece of shit, i would’ve never married you.”

“ ya already did, babe. got the proof right upstairs.” at the mention of your kids, you felt some of the fight die down in you. god you swore you wouldn’t be those parents that fought around their kids, made them feel like their home wasn’t a safe environment to be in. now look at you, you can barely stand the sight of your husband sometimes, but you’re so afraid of being alone; so you grin and bear it in front of them, only to slam your bedroom door and rip into each other all night long. sometimes that was also literally, embarrassing as it is to admit, you’re pretty sure you and simon have far more hate sex than any other kind of sex. hell you can’t remember the last time you just wanted the intimacy of being with him.

simon notices your lack of griping and moves from his spot on the couch over to where you’re standing by the archway of the living room. he takes stock of the frustrated tears pooling in your eyes and is suddenly overcome with the urge to comfort you. once upon a time he did love you, really love you. then one day, marriage was harder than you two thought, and work always kept him away, and soon enough getting pregnant wasn’t as easy as the movies made it seem. slowly life took the two of you, chewed you up far past recognition, spit you out and said here you go, have fun un-fucking each other up.

simon pulls you into his arms and your face goes into the familiar spot in the crook of his neck.

you know soon you’ll return to nagging, fighting, screaming, and crying- but for now, in this moment, in your husband's arms, you can pretend everything is okay.

[seunmong-in]

💋🌧️Kiss Me in the Rain🌧️💋

Pairing: Non! Idol Seungmin x reader Genre: Love at first sight (They did meet before but never gotten close), humor, cursing per usual, fluff, references to video games and anxiety Summary: Unable to go home due to the heavy rain outside, Seungmin is faced with being stuck at Changbin’s house until the rain clears out. But what happens when Changbin’s roommate, who Seungmin has only met once, is also home and steals Seungmin’s heart at first glance? Words: 2.9k A/N: So this may be a bit longer than I intended… but my insomnia got the best of me and my brain kept rambling with thoughts so here we are, my longest POV. I know I said this under my Felix POV but I have to say it again because I can not EXPRESS how much I am grateful and overwhelmed with joy about how many people liked my POV’s!! It truly means the world to me and it makes me strive to write more for everyone to enjoy! If you haven’t read Felix’s or Han’s story and want to, click on their name, it should send you to their stories. Later in the week I will be making a poll on which member I should write next about so stay on the lookout for that in the next couple days!! Anywho, getting on to our scheduled program now, I hope you guys enjoy Seungmin’s story!! 

P.s. Who else is going to Lolla this year and is secretly wishing Straykids play Topline or Hall of fame so they can scream their lungs out? I know I am!! 

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆

Oh, fuck me. 

Those were words Seungmin thought when he opened the door to reveal the pouring rain outside. He regretted not listening to Jisung when he said it would rain heavily later in the afternoon as he left for Changbin's. Mentally cursing himself out, knowing he couldn't drive home as planned, Seungmin sighed as he closed the door and walked back to the living room, throwing himself on the couch. Seungmin would've gone upstairs to Bin's room to bother him, but his hyung had left a few minutes before the rain started to pick up Jeongin. Pulling out his phone, Seungmin texts Changbin, letting him know that he is staying until the rain dies down and for him to stay safe. He puts his phone away, leans over, and grabs the TV remote. There wasn't much on the TV, so Seungmin watched anime to pass the time.

"Binnie, where the fuck did you put my gaming headset- Oh shit, Hi, um… Seungmin, right?"

Completely engrossed in the anime, Seungmin suddenly jumps when the soft-spoken voice speaks, pulling him out of his trance. He turns to see Y/n, Changbin's roommate, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Seungmin's heart skipped a beat as he took in her appearance. Y/n was wearing an oversized hoodie that belonged to Changbin and biker shorts. The hoodie engulfed her petite frame, making her look delicate. Her hair was still wet from a recent shower, and the sweet fragrance of vanilla filled the air as she approached him. Seungmin couldn't help but admire her beauty, noticing her glasses slightly fogged up from the shower's steam. He found himself getting lost in her sparkling eyes and felt his heart racing. Although he had met her at Changbin's housewarming party a few months back, Y/n looked different, and Seungmin couldn't resist but admire her beauty. 

"Yeah, And you're Y/n, right." 

Y/n positions herself comfortably on the couch beside Seungmin, crossing her legs as she nods in agreement with him. Seungmin pauses the series he is watching and turns to face her fuller, a hint of shyness creeping onto his face. 

"By chance, where is my wonderful hyung? The bastard misplaced my gaming headset, and I need it to play Overwatch with a couple of my friends."

Ignoring the first part of her question, Seungmin's excitement beams through when Y/n mentions she plays his favorite game. He usually plays with Changbin and Jeongin, but it has been a while since they've played. He primarily plays alone or with Felix and Chan, though they are more severe players. 

"Wait, you play Overwatch too?"

Seungmin's voice was filled with so much excitement that Y/n couldn't help but giggle. She got up from the cozy couch and approached the stairs. She looked back at Seungmin, still sitting on the sofa, staring back at her.

"If you want, I can show you my gaming pc setup. It's not much, but it's something," she offers as she continues to walk up the stairs.

With a slight hesitation, Seungmin followed Y/n up the stairs to her room, still feeling shy around her. But as he stepped inside, his eyes widened with amazement. The room was spacious and decorated with album covers and paintings, gifts that his other hyung, Hyunjin, had given her. The LED lights wrapped around the ceiling, casting a warm, inviting orange glow that made the room feel cozy and welcoming.

Looking around more into Y/n's room, his eyes were immediately drawn to her gaming setup. It looked like a gamer's paradise with a customized PC, fantastic LED lighting system, custom gaming keyboard, and sleek wireless mouse in pink and black. Y/n's setup was impressive, nonetheless. While one of her monitors had Overwatch already launched, the other screen had a Word document open, with the title reading "Kiss me in the Rain. "But before Seungmin could see more, Y/n quickly minimized the tab, leaving him curious and intrigued. He couldn't help but wonder what that document was about.

"You write as well?"

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she looked down, realizing she had been caught red-handed. Hot flashes crept up her cheeks as she realized that no one, not even Changbin, had ever laid eyes on her writing. It wasn't that she was embarrassed about her work, but the fact that she had always thought of writing as her own private sanctuary, where she could feel vulnerable and have no judgment. Writing was also her second safe place, her go-to whenever she had a panic attack, with Changbin being her first. When distressed, Changbin would soothe her with warm hugs and cuddles until she felt better.

Y/n settles into her gaming chair, her fingers tapping nervously on the armrest. "To be honest," she says, "writing is my go-to when I'm anxious or want to feel vulnerable for a while. There's something about putting pen to paper that just helps me calm down." Seungmin couldn't help but be intrigued by her words. Though the pair rarely spoke when he did come over to visit, it felt nice to be able to interact with her on this level. Not wanting to bombard her with more questions, he simply asked more about the story she was writing. 

"What's this story about?"

"It's about two friends trying to complete their bucket lists before the summer ends, and they have to go off to college. They devised a plan to complete each of their bucket list dreams one by one until the very last day of summer. On the last day, the FMC added one more thing to the bucket list she wanted completed before leaving: for the MMC, her newly developed crush, to kiss her in the rain while it was pouring out."

"Kinda sounds like how it is right now," both laugh as Seungmin looks out the window. The rain is still pouring hard outside, and there is no sign of stopping soon. Y/n's phone vibrates as she turns her chair to grab it off her desk. It was a message from Changbin.  

"Well, Binnie isn't coming back tonight. He says the roads are bad, so he's staying at Jeongin's. Which sucks cause I still don't have my damn headset," Y/n pouts as she puts her phone back on the desk. Without saying a word, Seungmin gets up from the beanbag chair and exits the room, only to appear minutes later, handing Y/n the headset he took from Bin's room.

"I keep a spare one in Hyung's room whenever I stay over; here use it.”

"Oh, Minnie, you didn't have to."

Minnie... Feeling his face turn red with the new nickname Y/n gave him, he continued to hold out the headset in front of her. 

"Seriously, take it. Besides, I wanna see you play. I have to see what my competition looks like."

Without backing down from Seungmin's challenge, Y/n confidently takes the headset, puts it on her head, and connects the aux to her PC. As the match starts, Seungmin is taken aback by her intense focus. He is fascinated by her gameplay, which is different from his own. Despite her unique approach to defense and combat, she continues to win match after match.

Seungmin sat back on the beanbag chair as Y/n continued her winning streak. However, he wasn't watching her play; his eyes fixed on her. He couldn't help but notice the small details of her behavior - the way she would scrunch her nose to keep her glasses from sliding down her face, the little victory dances she did when she won matches, and the lightning-quick movements of her hand when her hair fell over her eyes. He was amazed by her skill and grace, and he felt a sense of awe and admiration wash over him.

But as he watched her, Seungmin realized his feelings for Y/n were changing. A strange sensation began to stir in his stomach like a flock of butterflies had taken flight inside him. Feeling flustered and confused, Seungmin tapped Y/n on the arm and excused himself. He ran out of her room and hurried downstairs to make an urgent phone call to the only person he could think of who might help him figure out what to do next.

"Hey Min, what's up," Binnie answers, yawning mid-sentence.

"What do you do when you like someone?"

"What?"

"Changbin, I know you heard me. Answer my question," Seungmin demands. 

"It's Y/n, isn't it? See, I knew it from the first day you met her. Your eyeballs practically almost fell from your face," Changbin teased. There was nothing but silence and embarrassment as the banter continued. 

"Jesus, Bin can you shut the fuck up for a minute and help me, please," Seungmin practically begs his hyung. It was rare for Seungmin to say please, nonetheless, curse at anyone. This was serious for him. 

"Okay, okay, sorry, I'll stop," Changbin laughs. "What exactly do you like about her?"

Seungmin paused, taking a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. Y/n is kind-hearted and gentle, with a soft-spoken voice that makes him feel safe. Her writing was outstanding, and he hung on every word she said. However, it wasn't just her mind that he was drawn to. There was something undeniably alluring about her physical presence as well. The way her hair fell in soft waves around her face and her eyes lit up when she laughed - every little detail about her seemed to captivate him.

Seungmin's heart was heavy with emotion, and he knew he couldn't keep it to himself any longer. "Hyung," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darting around to ensure Y/n was out of earshot. "I can't help but feel drawn to her. She's like a dream come true, the perfect match for me. Changbin, I didn't expect to fall for her so quickly, and I don't know how to handle these feelings. What should I do?"

"Tell her how you feel. Knowing Y/n, she would be flattered hearing this. Oh, just to give you a confidence boost—you didn't hear it from me—but when everyone left after the housewarming, she thought you were the cutest out of all the boys." 

When Seungmin heard that, a bright smile that stretched from ear to ear was plastered on his face. It indeed gave him a boost to follow his heart. Before ending the call with Changbin, he asked for one more thing from Seungmin. 

"Just don't hurt her, Min. You both mean a lot to me and if things don't go well with you guys, I refuse to take sides. Plus, I don't want to fight you for hurting my best friend; you are too soft and cute to hit." 

"I won't, I promise."

Trying to contain his happiness, Seungmin quickly runs up the stairs. Ideas on how he could tell Y/n how he felt started going off like fireworks until he thought of the perfect one. He softly opens Y/n's door just as she stops playing OW. Instead, she had the same document open and was typing away. Feeling like she was being watched, she turned her chair around only to meet Seungmin's soft gaze. She softly smiles and asks, "Everything okay, you were gone for a while. I didn't make you nervous with my gaming skills, did I?"

Chuckling at her joke, Seungmin shakes his head as he approaches her.

"I was just telling Binnie I was staying the night since it's still raining out," Seungmin lied. Though the rain was starting to die out a bit, the roads weren't safe to drive in. Suddenly, Seungmin reaches out for Y/n's hand, pulling her out of her chair and her room. Confused with what was happening, Y/n couldn't help but question what was going through his mind as they both walked down the stairs, heading towards the house's back door. 

"Minnie, what are you doing?" Y/n asked as he let go of her hand and opened the door to reveal the rain outside. Though it wasn't as hard as at the beginning of the afternoon, it was still pouring down at a decent rate. 

"When you mentioned your story earlier and how the friends had things on their bucket list they wanted to complete, I realized that I had some of my own I have never completed. And well, playing in the rain is one of them. So I was wondering if you wanted to help me with that," Seungmin's cheeks turn bright red as he extends his hand towards her. Without a second thought, Y/n grabs his hand as the pair goes outside into the rain. 

As the chilly raindrops cascaded from the overcast sky, Y/n and Seungmin stood opposite each other in the backyard. They gazed at each other with wide grins and intertwined their hands, feeling the warmth from their palms. They began to spin slowly in a circle, their movements cautious at first, and then they picked up speed, their feet sliding on the slick grass. As Y/n lost her footing, Seungmin swiftly grasped her by the waist and pulled her toward him to prevent her from falling. Although the darkness enveloped them, Y/n's cheeks flushed a bright red at the proximity of their bodies.

"Is this okay?" Seungmin asked, trying to read her face to see if she was uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to make her uneasy, ruining his chances of possibly being with her. Y/n smiled as she nodded. She wrapped her arms around his neck, softly swaying. The two continued to sway slowly, staring into each other's eyes without saying a word. The moment couldn't be perfect for Seungmin as Y/n, their eyes now connected. 

"As much as I want to continue dancing in the rain, I want to tell you something. That phone call with Binnie-hyung wasn't about me staying the night, though I know he would be okay with either way. It was about you," Seungmin starts to explain. Y/n's face turns into shock, and she tries to figure out if she did anything wrong. Seungmin must've picked up on what she was thinking and started to chuckle. 

"I want you to know that you haven't done anything wrong. In fact, you have done something that I didn't think was possible. It's difficult to express myself, but I want to take a chance. Y/n, I have strong feelings for you. I understand this may seem sudden, especially since this is our first time hanging out alone. However, there is something about you that draws me towards you. There is so much more to learn about you and I want to know everything about you- your likes, dislikes, fears, and dreams. I want to be there for you in every possible way imaginable. You don't have to say anything now; I don't expect you to feel the same way as I do. I simply wanted to tell you how I feel before I get inside of my own head." 

Y/n took a moment to process everything that had been said and looked down for a moment. She started catching feelings for Seungmin too, whose shy and calming manner perfectly fit her sometimes crazy personality. Looking back into his eyes, she noticed that his now wet hair covered most of his vision, so she softly pushed it away, revealing her cheeky smile. She was going to ask him something that the FMC wanted done in her story.

"I also have a bucket list I didn't get to complete. Do you mind helping me," Y/n asked.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Kiss me in the rain."

Seungmin's heart races as he looks at the girl he confessed to. Without wasting another precious moment, he gently takes her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. He can feel the warmth of her skin against his as he pulls her closer, his other hand cupping the back of her head as he leans in for a kiss.

The rain slowly begins to let up, creating a serene backdrop for their first kiss. Seungmin's lips are soft and tender against hers. As the last few drops of rain trickle down, Seungmin finally pulls away.

He doesn't want to let go of her just yet, so he takes her hand in his, holding it tightly as they both catch their breath. Their eyes meet, as he is the first one to speak. 

"So, I assume you feel the same way then.”

"Yeah, I do. And by the way, you don't have to ask; I'm yours now, Minnie."

As soon as she responded, he couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth in his chest. He pulled her in without hesitation for another passionate kiss, their lips meeting perfectly harmoniously.

After their little moment, the couple realized they were soaked from the rain, so they decided to change into dry, clean clothes for the rest of the night. They spent most of their time playing Overwatch together, with short intermissions in between as Seungmin helped Y/n with her story. 

When morning arrived, and the roads were clear, Changbin came home and peeked into Y/n's room. He saw Seungmin sleeping beside Y/n, with his arms wrapped around her. Her head was resting comfortably on his chest. Changbin smiled and took out his phone to send a picture to the boys' group chat. He knew Seungmin might be annoyed with him later, but for now, he was happy to see his friend with his dream girl.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Azriel x Reader | Demons in Your Mind

type: drabble warning(s): talk about bad mental health word count: 1.5k words request: the original request was: If you are taking requests, can I please ask for an angsty fic that ends in fluff with Azriel? About Azriel not noticing that y/n is struggling mentally and not eating, harming herself? but I decided to change it a little, make a small drabble of how Azriel would comfort you after a mental break down/ an anxiety attack.

- all rights reserved -

“Don‘t apologise. You know I would never judge you.“ The shadowsinger’s voice is a low rumble, soothing and comforting. He holds you firmly to his chest, his finger tips poking into your skin, to keep you as close as possible.

Azriel keeps your head pressed against his, while he is shifting a little on the bed. His chin and lower lip are quavering, his heart racing in his chest, skipping sad beats that ache in his whole chest. The temperature in the room is cool, making icy cold spread through your entire body. You haven’t eaten the whole day which made your head feel light headed. Azriel noticed that something was off with you, felt it through the bond. He quickly gathered you in his arms and left the family gathering with you, returning back to your shared place where the damn finally broke. Everything had gotten too much for you that day, everything was too overwhelming, and the consequence was now that your brain and thoughts would once again not shut up and tell you the worst things possible. That started during the family gathering, you felt like you were being suffocated and you needed to get out. You had no idea that you were projecting and that Azriel could read you so well. The moment he gathered you in his arms to leave the meeting, you were reminded again that you truly had the best mate in the world. 

That feeling and that thought is still prominent now that you are at home — he really is the best. You lean more into Azriel, reveling in his warmth — his sheer presence. He is there for you, he keeps you safe. You have him. Other than before when your panic attack started and the anxiety flooded your system, you have him now. He is here. This thought calms you, calms your heart a little and brings you comfort. Azriel is warm and solid next to you, helping you increase your body temperature a little. It has dropped a lot due to the anxiety attack, the flood of unwelcome emotions and thoughts. Once again you had felt like you were not enough, like all you did was alright but never good enough. Like there was so much more you could do. This feeling hasn’t vanished — it is still here and you still feel so weak, so undeserving of the life you have. Sometimes there is this endless tunnel of darkness and with no way out, no escape you can think of. It seems like your whole life will stay dark forever and even though the shadowsinger somehow manages to brighten every day of your life, the darkness returns the moment he leaves. You know that this is your problem to deal with, you cannot make it Azriel’s problem as well.  

A loud sob parts your lips and you shudder against Azriel, your body feeling so sore and drained of energy. There is no ounce of happiness or peace inside of you. You don’t even feel sad - you feel nothing. You feel empty, robbed of life. And you feel tired. You want to sleep and that is all you want to do. Today, tomorrow, forever. There is just no energy left to go about your day like everything is fine. 

It pains Azriel seeing you like this. He knows exactly what this endless darkness feels like, has been in this place many times in his life already. He knows the darkness so well. A crack appears in his heart and it only intensifies when you sob again, your whole body shuddering against him. “Why am I so weak?”

The shadowy male presses you to him, holding you so tightly hardly any air gets into your lungs. “Don’t ever say that again!” he cautions. “You are one of the strongest people I know, so brave. You are everything but weak.”

Your pants are a little ragged when you wiggle your head and try to glimpse up at him through a blurry vision. Many tears still brim your eyes, some have already dried on your cheeks, some are burning behind your eyes. For a moment you just look at him and feel the corners of your mouth lift into a barely there smile. You are so lucky to have him. Azriel gathered a little bit of food for you when you arrived, having noticed that you haven’t eaten the whole day. He knows it is always easier for you when he eats with you and so he slowly reaches for the plate with fruits that he placed on the bedside table. You eat together, Azriel feeding you some berries and small pieces of fruit while he tells you a little about his day. You love listening to him, and you love to hear about what he has done and so you find some comfort in this moment, in his voice. Your heart no longer so frantically beats in your chest, it is calming down. Once you have finished eating you will feel better — you are proud that you ate and also your belly no longer feels so hollow. It is a warm feeling that seeps into your heart and warms your chest from the inside out. It feels good and sigh loudly, finally leaning back against Azriel, your head buried in the crook of his neck. 

“I wish I could protect you from those demons in your mind.” Azriel kisses the top of your head. You shift a little, fitting perfectly against his chest. “Azriel, you—“ “I know. But I don’t want you to feel like this Y/N. I know what it feels like and I wish I could just help you out of it.”

You sigh again, fisting his shirt. “You are already helping me so much. With everything you do and say.” It is then that you lean back and smile up at him. Azriel is already looking at you and he offers you to talk about what has happened today, what triggers were in involved and what caused your panic attack. Azriel always gives you time to open up, never pressures you, never rushes you. It is always up to you when and if you want to open up. And that only makes you love him more. 

As usual opening up always takes a little bit of time, but it is alright now and and so you do. You talk about your mental health, carefully and slowly, putting all the cards on the table, getting everything of your chest. You and Azriel will both shed some tears, but that is fine, you it is alright in the environment you provide for each other — you can be vulnerable with each and that since the very first moment you have met. You fully open up to Azriel, pour all your emotions out while he listens to every word you say, strokes your back with his hand, holds your hand in his other and whispers words of comfort and understanding. He is there for you all the time, holding you, supporting you, encouraging you and when the evening has fully arrived, Azriel will help you wash. You are a person who loves skin and body care and Azriel knows that in times like this you often lack the energy to do this kind of things. Azriel and you are bath together, he sits behind you in the warm water filled with essential oils and rose leaves. Azriel washes your hair, softly and carefully massaging your head and the shampoo into your hair. He worships you and your skin, pampering your back and shoulders with soft kisses while whispering sweet nothings to you. Azriel does not miss one moment of telling you how beautiful you are, how much he loves you.

“You are so stunning, my beautiful mate,” Azriel breathes against your ear, kisses the pointed tip and pulls you flush to his chest. “The most beautiful mate that there is in this world.”

Using your magic, you are warming the water from time to time, until your skin is all crinkly and you finally decide to go back to bed. You have to chuckle a tiny, little bit when you notice your skin. “We look like old people, Az.” You smile up at him, his hands on your shoulders. He smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I cannot wait to grow old with you, my wonderful mate. Azriel then helps you dry off, softly tending to your skin and then you don your most comfortable pyjamas and the shadowsinger carries you to the bedroom where he wraps you into his strong arms, letting you sleep on his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around your body.

~~~~~~~~~

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[etherfall]

What does N call Alder? I think a cute fanfic idea would be the first time he calls Alder his dad, whether it's to his face or like, "my dad told me..."

I've got a little story just for this moment, hope you enjoy!

“Alder!”

Alder, who was sitting at the front entrance to their home, turned his head at the sound to see N excitedly bounding across the grass with his poncho trailing behind him. 

It had been a few months since he first found N in the woods. To Alder’s delight he was adjusting very well, and was now incredibly comfortable being in his home. For the first few weeks N didn’t speak. Alder was initially worried that his critical period for language learning had passed, but N was very smart and quickly picked up English.

N’s old shirt and pants had been replaced with a cream-colored poncho embroidered with gold lace that Alder had spent all night painstakingly sewing. Although he had lost many nights of sleep, it was worth it to see N’s smile of happiness as he slipped the new poncho across his shoulders. It felt good to be taking care of somebody again.

N stumbled to a stop, panting as he caught his breath. Alder let out a chuckle, amused.

“Slow down there N, what happened?”

N tugged on his hand excitedly. “Alder you have to see this!”

Alder stood up from the front steps of the house and let N lead him into the forest. “Where are we going? You still haven’t told me what’s happening.”

“Shhhh!” N said, hushing him. Alder smiled and closed his lips, letting the boy lead him deeper into the woods.

When they had gotten a good distance from the house N suddenly crouched down, pulling Alder into the bushes with him. He pointed into the brambles, wide-eyed and awed. 

“Look!”

Alder squinted, trying to see what N was pointing at. His eyesight had definitely waned over the years, but he eventually made out the figure of a Sawsbuck who was followed by a group of Deerling. 

It was truly a sight to behold. The great Sawsbuck held itself majestically, blinking slowly as it turned its head. The dapple of soft forest light scattered across its brown fur in a beautiful display of pattern. It would have blended in perfectly with the surrounding trees if not for the crowd of bright pink spring Deerling that were bouncing back and forth at its feet. Alder let out a breath of deep admiration. It was always a breathtaking scene to see such a beautiful creature in the wild.

The Sawsbuck dipped its head to calm the excited group of Deerling, nuzzling one softly with its nose. The Deerling wiggled its tail, letting out a happy bleat of excitement. The Sawsbuck lifted itself up regally and began to trot away into the woods, with the Deerling following behind. Soon they disappeared into the thick tangle of the forest.

Alder was beaming. The Sawsbuck was a great surprise to see. When they were both sure the pokemon were gone, Alder stood up and brushed the dirt off of his pants.

“That was a really beautiful thing you found, N. Did you see all those Deerling? That Sawsbuck is one busy dad.” He said with a chuckle.

N stood up as well, his expression of awe shifting to one of confusion.

“Wait, what’s a dad?” He asked, puzzled.

Alder silently face-palmed himself. He had completely forgotten that N had a very different upbringing than other people. He racked his brain for a quick explanation.

“Err…well I suppose you could say that a dad is a parent who raises you and cares for you.”

Alder gestured towards the forest where the Sawsbuck had disappeared. 

“That Sawsbuck we just saw is the dad to all those young Deerling. He cares for them and makes sure that they are all safe.”

Alder could see the gears in N’s head turning. He tried to clarify it a little more.

“Pretty much everyone has a dad, and their job is to look out for you as you grow up. Whether that be, let's say, making you food or teaching you how the world works. A dad doesn’t have to be related to you by blood, but he should be there to support you.”

N brightened in understanding, then turned his head to look at Alder. 

“Wait, that means that I should call you dad!”

Alder paused, stunned by the sudden response. “I…what?”

“Well you made me dinner every day, you gave me a home when it was raining, and you made me new clothes!” He said, excitedly lifting up an arm to show off the poncho. “You taught me about things I didn’t know and took care of me.”

N nodded to himself, beaming, oblivious to the fact that he was making Alder melt with happiness. He turned his head back towards the forest, looking out at where the pokemon had disappeared. A small smile hung on his lips.

“If you say that everyone has a dad, then you must be mine.” He murmured, tilting his head to look at Alder. “Right?”

Alder felt his heart twist. A complicated feeling of delight and sadness tore cruelly at his heartstrings.

“Oh N… A dad can be anyone, as long as you believe they care for you enough.”

N wrapped his arms around Alder’s waist, repeating the word a few more times, before burying his head into the folds of Alder’s poncho with a soft smile on his face.

“I like that. I think that I will call you dad.”

Alder felt as if he might start bawling. He tucked one hand around N’s shoulders, pulling him close. He pressed his other hand against his heart, turning his head to look down at N, trying to capture the moment forever in his mind.

“You can call me whatever you want N, but I feel very honored that you would choose to call me your dad.”

They stood together in the embrace, basking in the warm evening light. Alder turned his head away, feeling his heart flip with so many complicated emotions that had been dormant for years. He didn’t know if N knew the weight of the words that he had just said, but all he hoped for in the moment was that N was feeling comforted and loved. After a while Alder gently let go of N, giving him a bright smile.

“It’s starting to get late. Let’s head home now, son.”

N looked confused again. “Son? What’s a son?”

Alder laughed, ruffling N’s hair before gently taking his hand and leading him out of the bushes towards their house. The fading tendrils of the afternoon sun danced across their ponchos as they made their way through the woods together.

“That’s a name that I would call you N, the person whom the dad loves and cares for the most.”

[isthatafuckinggayangel]

I wanted to continue this thing that I wrote for @cod-dump (hope you don’t mind me tagging you lmao), just kinda expanding upon the concept of Nik being Soap’s father and getting into more of the meat in the idea, so here

~~~

Explaining to Ghost and Gaz everything that had gone on between Nik and Soap, their relationship and all, was exhausting. The number of questions they had took forever to get through and made Soap think a little too hard about what why his mother had caused this.

At the same time though, it made him realize he needed to call her to get all the information straightened out here. He needed to know why she did it. Why she separated him from his father.

So, a few days after he had gotten everything sorted with Nik and the team was on the same page with everything, he made the call. He had both Ghost and Nik sit in on the call with him, he couldn’t get himself to do it without some support and he needed to have Nik there to make sure any lies didn’t slip passed him. The trio were sat around the dining table in the common room, Nik and Ghost on either side of Soap. He pressed the call button and made sure it was on speaker, holding it in his left hand still.

“Tha e math cluinntinn bhuat a-rithist, John. It’s been too long since ye called!” She answered the phone with.

“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s been quite busy out here, so I haven’t had the chance.” Soap rested his forehead in his palm and Ghost ran his hand along his upper back in a soothing motion.

“Is there somethin’ goin’ on, a chuilein? Ye sound a bit upset.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been thinking a lot and had a few questions fer you, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, it is! Ask away.”

He took a deep breath then went for it. “Why did you tell me my da abandoned me?”

There was silence on the other end. The seconds stretched for what felt like forever.

“Well, that’s because he did. He made it very clear to me that he didn’t want to speak to any of us, and as much as it pained me, I knew we had to respect his wishes.”

Soap saw Nik’s fist clench out of the corner of his eye and looked up, seeing an expression of barely concealed rage. Soap set his phone on the table, reaching over and grabbing his father’s hand to try to help calm him.

“Ma, do you remember what he does for work?”

“…What do you mean, John?”

“I need you to be honest with me. Why did you lie?”

He was met with more silence.

“I dinnae lie, John.”

“Ma. I’m givin’ ya one more chance to be honest. I need you to take it.”

“I don’t understand, I’ve been honest-“

He let out a sigh before laying it all out. “I met him again, Ma. Ye seem tae have forgotten what he does fer work. We work together now. I read his journal, ma. I know what you told ‘im. I know you lied to both of us. So why? I just wanna know why you did it.”

“It’s a very complicated situation-“

“Bullshit. I know a complicated situation when I see one, and this is not one.”

“John-“

“Не лги нашему сыну, Elspet.” Nik growled. He’d clearly had enough of her avoiding the question she’d been asked.

“Nikolai, I-“

“You will answer the question the boy asked. You will not disrespect him or diminish his intelligence by acting as though you do not understand what he is talking about.”

They were once again met with silence. Ghost moved closer to Johnny, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and holding him against his side.

“I was tired. Your father’s job took a toll on me, on our family, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. The entire time you were away from me, every summer, I was so scared his job would follow him home and I wouldn’t know because you were so far away. I needed to have you close to make sure you were okay. That you were safe. I couldn’t think of anything else to be able to do it.” She paused. “Look at where that’s gotten us now. You enlisted for the same damn job and now ye work together. Guess it couldn’t truly be avoided.”

Soap was seething. While he understood being afraid for your child’s safety, he couldn’t get passed the manipulation. The lies. The fact that she didn’t just explain that that was the problem. He could have kept up with phone calls, letters, something so he wouldn’t lose his father. And yet, this was the decision she had made.

Nik squeezed his hand and Ghost hugged him a bit tighter.

“John?”

A deep breath. “Thank you for your honesty. I’m gonna need some time to process all that. I’ll call you again soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, John.”

“Love ye too, ma.” He hung up the phone and rested his head against the table. “Christ, that sucked.”

“Are you alright, love?” Ghost asked.

“I’ll be alright eventually. Just gonna need some time.” He picked his head back up and looked over at Nik. “You alright? Cannae exactly be easy for you to hear either.”

He gave a light nod. “I’ll be okay eventually, малыш. It will take time, as you said, but it will be fine.” He squeezed Soap’s hand again and Soap did the same back. “У нас все будет хорошо.”

~~~

Translations

Tha e math cluinntinn bhuat a-rithist, Johnny. -> It’s lovely to hear from you again, Johnny.

A chuilein -> my lad

Не лги нашему сыну -> Don’t lie to our son

Малыш -> little one

У нас все будет хорошо -> We will be okay

Apologies for any incorrect translations, the Gaelic is done with google translate and the Russian is a different translation app, so chances are there’s something wrong with it. Let me know if you have any corrections on it!

[lookingfts]

Where does Say My Name Kate keep the photos Anthony took of her? Does she ever look at them? Does Anthony?

*sexy snippet below*

Kate knew it was reckless to keep the photos in her purse, exactly where Anthony had left them. There was just something right about it, keeping them so close to her. The final token that had convinced Kate to make the best decision of her life, and give Anthony Bridgerton a real chance at loving her.

There was also something a little naughty and thrilling about it, besides. Kate was hardly a prude, but she still blushed when she caught a glimpse of herself posed so intimately. Her legs spread, her cunt exposed, Anthony’s release filling her. It was too easy to get wet all over again at the memories. Too easy to get sentimental as Kate mused on how far they had come since then. That girl had been so scared, fighting his every attempt to show her that he genuinely cared about her.

And now she knew the truth. Anthony loved her harder than she could have ever dared to imagine, and she was safe to love him just as much.

So the Polaroids stayed. Until the day that Eddie needed to borrow a phone charger and Kate, distracted by her sauce on the stove, had offhandedly said, “Check my purse.”

There was the sound of zipping, and Kate realized her mistake a second before it rang across the house. “Oh my fucking god!”

Kate turned down the heat and raced into the other room, snatching the photos from Edwina’s hand. But the damage was done, judging by the shell-shocked look on her sister’s face.

“That’s not what it looks like,” she insisted, her cheeks flaming bright red.

“That’s not…” Eddie said faintly, then snorted. “Didi, I literally don’t think that could be anything except what it looks like.”

Shoving the photos back into her purse, Kate pulled out the charger and pushed it into Edwina’s hand. She supposed it was a good sign that her sister’s surprise had faded and now she looked endlessly amused rather than angry.

“You little slut,” she said, but her voice was teasing. “You let my ex-boyfriend take nasty photos of you, didn’t you?”

Kate rolled her eyes. Eddie loved to call Anthony her ex, and while technically correct, Kate knew she meant it more as a joke than anything else. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

She supposed there was no need to tell Edwina the whole sordid tale of how Anthony had taken pictures of her after she had just made him come for the first time, on her knees and trying to get even after her own intense orgasm. Of how he’d given them to her as a gift, a promise that he wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability.

Might as well let her think they were more recent, a fun little experiment in a solid relationship.

“You look great,” Eddie said, waving her hand toward the photos. “Have you ever considered porn?”

“Edwina!”

-----

So, maybe her purse wasn’t the best spot. Kate took them out when she got home, bringing them upstairs with her. It was late, and Anthony was already in bed, shirtless and reading a book. Truly beautiful sight to come home to, each and every time.

She flopped onto the bed, and Anthony quirked an eyebrow when he saw the photos in her hand. “I haven’t seen those in a while.”

“Edwina found them in my bag,” Kate said, wincing. “She was fine, but it was…awkward, to say the least.”

Anthony pressed his lips together, suppressing a laugh. “But she was okay?”

“Yeah. She said I should do porn.”

“You do look incredible naked,” he said with a straight face. “But I must admit, I like being the only one to see you that way.”

“I know,” Kate sighed, snuggling in closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Anthony put his book aside, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I must have known when I let you take these. I believed you when you said you wouldn’t show anyone else.”

She felt his deep breath against her body, his grip tightening around her. “I know you didn’t have much reason to trust me back then, but I would never do that to you, Kate.”

“I’m well aware,” she assured him, twisting to press a kiss to his collarbone. “It was a little scary, but it also turned me on. I realized I liked the idea of you laying in bed, touching yourself to my photos. Wanting me even after our one night was over.”

Anthony tensed slightly, his breathing going a little shallower. “That was…inevitable.”

“I know that now too.” Kate flipped to the next Polaroid, a close-up of her cunt with his seed leaking out. Right after that ridiculous phone call with Tom and before Anthony had cleaned her up with his tongue. “If you didn’t take them for yourself, why did you take them?” she asked quietly.

“They were for me. At first. If that night was all I had with you, I wanted to remember it. And when you let me take them, I realized…there was a part of you that trusted me. Maybe it was buried deep down, but it was there. And I wanted to show you that I could deserve that trust. I wanted you to know that you owned me, not the other way around.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. Maybe the way Anthony showed love didn’t make sense to everyone, but it was perfect for her. He was perfect for her.

“Hey, baby?” she asked. Anthony hummed. “Do you know where your camera is?”

“It’s in my office. Why?”

“I think we should take some more photos.”

[korasonata]

I know everyone always jokes about the Life series members speedrunning their divorce archs with past alliances each season, but Bdubs and Cleo are really out here having the worlds longest slowburn divorce in history.

They start out together in 3rd Life as each others ride or die. No matter who else pokes their head into their team, it’s ultimately always just been the two of them - Bdubs even tells her as much. When Cleo is making alliances with other factions, he looks her right in the eye and tells her that even after all of their other alliances break apart, he will always be loyal to her. They both agree that even if everything falls apart, they will always be each others ride or die.

When Bdubs comes back after missing a session to discover that Cleo has made an alliance with the ONE group he could not stand, he swallows his pride and sucks it up. He isn’t happy about it, but he does it for Cleo.

It’s their partnership together that costs Cleo the one alliance she truly wanted. She wants an alliance with Flower Husbands, but Scott refuses to part ways with his alliance with Desert Duo, and Bdubs has a vendetta against Grian, and so Cleo walks away. Because of Bdubs.

It’s Cleo’s unwavering loyalty to Bdubs that ultimately ends up killing her in the end. When the Red Army attacks them, she wants to hide. She tells Bdubs to hide, but he wants to fight, and so she reluctantly follows after him. She apologizes to the other people she’s with, telling them that she’s sorry but she has to go after him because she promised she would always stick by him. He’s her ride or die, and so she follows after him. And she dies. A death which would have been easily avoided if she would have stayed hidden like she wanted to do from the start. Bdubs makes her a grave in their backyard - one of the few people who ever got a tombstone. He buries her under a spruce tree in their backyard with no less than four bouquets of flowers that he uses to decorate her grave.

Their breakup starts at the beginning of the next season. It was a mutual decision, so nobody is hostile towards each other, they’re all on good terms, they just seem to have drifted apart. Last Life is like the grace period following a mutual breakup where your feelings for each other haven’t necessarily changed at all, they still care about each other, but they’re separate now, so it’s different. The kind of feeling that’s sort of along the same lines of they’ve agreed it’s better that they are broken up, but they don’t really treat each other any differently. They still hang out, they’re still on good terms.

They do get jealous when the other person introduces them their their new partners.

Cleo goes to visit Bdubs during one of the first episodes and they are both absolutely delighted to see each other. One of the first things Bdubs says is that seeing her had felt like coming home, and Cleo agrees.

And then Etho walks in.

This is like the early stages of the Ethubs pairing, and so Bdubs isn’t as secure in their relationship, and Cleo is safe and familiar and comforting. In his own words “it’s like home”. Etho makes a joke that he had turned his back for 5 minutes and Bdubs had immediately run straight back to Cleo, and Bdubs laughs, kind of waves him off, but Cleo takes ONE look at Etho and just goes “Oh…” and her face drops because she realizes that he’s with someone else. And like, to the point, so was she, but it’s to the same point of it was a mutual breakup, but they still care about each other, and it still hurts a little seeing them with someone else. A sentiment that Bdubs echos later when he sees Cleo with Lizzie.

Bdubs walks into the Fairy Fort and starts yelling at Lizzie about the Enchanting table, making demands, and then Cleo steps in. He’s not yelling at her, but he is yelling at her teammate, and she just very calmly steps up to him before very quietly going “Bdubs, back down.” I don’t even think she had a weapon in her hand, her voice is soft and quiet, she sounds almost sad in a way, there is altogether nothing threatening about her and yet he stops immediately. He hears the tone of her voice, stops, glances between her and Lizzie, before taking a BIG step backwards and going “I see the dynamic here” as he realizes that she is ALSO with someone else. And he sounds almost betrayed, like she had gone behind his back or something, and this is like the big moment where they both realize that they still care but they’ve both moved on, they’re not each others ride or die anymore.

Cleo teams back up with Bdubs the second she goes Red for the first time. After BigBs betrayal, she angrily leaves the Fairy Fort, and thus everyone else in that alliance. She tries for Scott first, but she goes Red not even 5 minutes after joining him, and so she’s forced to leave him too. And who does she go running to? Bdubs. Because, in her own words “when you’ve been betrayed, you go with the people you trust.” And Bdubs takes her with open arms.

When Bdubs tells Cleo that Etho’s been trying to kick him out because he’s red, she marches all the way over to their house to give Etho a piece of her mind. Etho is the ONE person she didn’t want to cross during 3rd life, but the SECOND she hears Bdubs might be getting mistreated she is OFF, threatening the man in his own house for messing with her buddy.

When Scar gives Bdubs a life, Cleo is furious. Reds aren’t allowed to team with other colours, and so they are no longer allowed to work together and she’s FURIOUS. She literally crosses the entire server just so she can yell at Scar because “you took my friend away!”

The fact that Cleo was with Etho when Bdubs dies. Etho, who is in shock and heartbroken, and Cleo has to console him. The two of them teaming up after his death. Cleo, who had never trusted Etho. Called him a “Wildcard”. In 3rd life she expected Etho to turn on them at any moment. And yet, when faced with an alliance with him, she goes “I’m trusting you because Bdubs trusted you.” Essentially saying that she still didn’t particularly trust him, but she trusted Bdubs, and she was going to choose to continue to trust his judgement. Her saying she felt the need to protect him for some reason, feeling guilty when she doesn’t tell him about Pearl’s trap.

Double Life was almost like the acceptance period. Again, they are still on decent terms, but some of the niceties have gone. They are both still around, but they kind of leave each other be, not having a need to meddle in each others business.

Until Bdubs makes a crack about Scott.

Bdubs and Impulse are going around trying to drive a wedge between other couples, and he comes after Cleo and Scott. The first real argument they get into. Bdubs lies to Cleo, saying Scott was saying bad things about her, and she calls him out on it. She scolds him, telling him he should be ashamed for lying to her of all people after all they’ve been through. She tells him he should feel bad about it and he does. He apologizes, walking away with his tail between his legs and promising to never to it again.

He’s not necessarily hostile towards her after that, but he’s not particularly civil either. He shoots her multiple times once he goes Red, but he’s not really TRYING to kill her. He hits her once and she just LOOKS at him, goes “Bdubs, no.” And he just goes “Ok.” And walks away. He’s still attacking her, but his hearts not in it. He’s not really TRYING to kill her because deep down he knows he doesn’t really want to. It’s more just a formality of being Red, and Cleo doesn’t even fault him for it. She doesn’t ever retaliate either. She tells Impulse that this is just what he gets like when he goes Red, because she knows. She’s seen it before.

Limited Life almost feels like the true start of their divorce. They’re teamed again, but not in the same way. They still care about each other, but Cleo doesn’t fully trust him anymore, as is evident by the amount of times she’s concerned he’s going to leave them for Etho. During the last episode when Cleo asks him what their plan is, he jokingly says he’s going to leave them and team up with Ties, and the FIRST thing Cleo does is pull out a crossbow and aim it at him until he says he’s just kidding. And he has to reassure her that he is in fact kidding. And it’s not really her fault. She’s been betrayed before, and so she’s a bit skeptical of everyone now. But she doesn’t take his word at face value anymore.

She also has good reason to be paranoid. Bdubs has been consistently sneaking over to see Etho, and he has definitely not been subtle. He’s told them right to their face that he’s got an alliance with Etho, and so Cleo already KNOWS about it, and she also knows that their team in particular has issues with everyone else on team Ties, and so there is really no way Bdubs can ever realistically be part of both teams. He needs to choose between them, and Cleo is rightfully concerned Bdubs will pick Etho.

The fact that Bdubs really does pick Etho. During a conversation he has at their tower, he tells Etho he would betray Cleo and Scar in an instant if it came down to it. He says “I feel like it’s still you and me.” He picks Etho, and yet when Cleo falls off of Sky Net, he SCREAMS her name with such a desperation. He’s told Etho he would betray Cleo in an instant, and yet when he calls her name, it is the exact same tone of voice he used when Cleo was slain by the Red Army in 3rd Life. That same tone of panic, of desperation. She falls off of Sky Net and he panics. He’s scared. He tells Etho he would betray Cleo, and yet he doesn’t want her to die.

And like I don’t think he’s lying about Etho. Given the chance I still think he would team up with him, but this season was more about denial. He says he would betray her, but he could never. He says he doesn’t care, but he does.

The fact that after all this time, they both still care. One season after the next they grow a little bit further apart, but they never stop caring.