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I am trying to write by a schedule of at least one written entry a week. This may not always be the case as I have school and help take care of my siblings. Thank you for looking at my profile/directory! Love you all <3

[megwritesriddles]

Sweetest Nectar ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Being at Hogwarts at university-level had it's perks, such as unsupervised days in the greenhouse with Neville. Reader finds herself in an unfortunate position thanks to a flower in the greenhouse and Neville has to figure out how to help while being a gentleman and preserving their friendship.

Tags: Sex pollen, Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Begging, Friends to lovers, Minor yearning, HogwartsUniversity!AU, Post-war/Eighth year, Virgin!Neville (he just is, I don't make the rules), Too much backstory, Sentient Hogwarts, Silly fluffy ending.

Word count: 11.1k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Can you see why I've been gone so long??? This had zero business being 11k words but I'm a chronic overexplainer so here we are!! Skip the first 9 paragraphs if you don't care about any worldbuilding. Continuing my 'Neville gets muscular as he gets older' agenda as per. The last line is so dumb... Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

P.S. this is technically day 23 of my kinktober but it's january so lets not talk about that

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Hogwarts worked in mysterious ways, with its own indecipherable motives. This much had always been true but was especially recognised lately. Once rebuild efforts had concluded after the war, Professor McGonagall, like every headmaster before her, bar Severus Snape, had sent out invitations to recent graduates to join the Higher Education program, a two-year program that would prepare its students to become a professor in any chosen field, subject to meeting entry requirements of the course. Demand for this program was higher than it ever had been, so many recent Hogwarts graduates felt like they had missed so much time at Hogwarts, that they were willing to come back on the program just to make up for lost time. At first, McGonnagal thought of shutting the whole thing down or at least raising entry requirements for joiners; there wasn’t exactly enough room in the designated Higher Education quarters for all the applicants. And though the regular student population had dwindled significantly over the course of the war (best not thought about too hard), it seemed wrong to try and room adults with 15-year-olds just to fit everyone in. The night before she intended to send out the letters of amendment to the required marks, McGonagall felt bizarrely compelled to go on a stroll around the castle, feeling drawn down a route she didn't often find herself going. There, she found a brand new door, behind which were brand new living quarters, just big enough for all the applicants. Although she should have been relieved, McGonagall was initially rather frustrated by this. Why now did the blasted old castle decide it could build, when nearly all summer long volunteers had been slaving away to restore the castle? The windows glittered as if to wink at her, she decided that the daft old thing must have liked the attention. McGonagall found herself relieved, she too felt that the recent graduates were not ready for the career world quite yet, having had not only their final year of study lost to the war, but the years before that tarnished by looming threats and incompetent bumblers. Also, there was an urgent need for qualified teachers of magic, so the more the merrier, even if most of them would only use it as a springboard into something else. 

You had always been a shoo-in either way, although you never got to sit your NEWTs, the honourary grades you were given were stellar, supported by fantastic results in your OWLs and overall fantastic conduct in class. The blemishes on your record from the Carrow's note-taking were wiped, leaving your record squeaky clean. You received your acceptance letter and list of supplies and felt like you were eleven again. Everyone was required to specialise in a subject, and while you'd had a couple in which you had adequate grades which you might have chosen, you went for Herbology in the end, as it was something you loved.  In all honesty, you liked Professor Sprout the best and were eager to train under her. 

As soon as you received your letter, you wrote to Neville. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be studying under Professor Sprout alongside you, despite not even knowing if he had applied to the program initially. He quickly confirmed this suspicion when he wrote back to you, saying he had a sneaky feeling about you as well. The two of you had become fast friends in the sixth year, both being in Advanced Herbology. You'd known each other a little here and there before that, but in this class, your friendship truly formed. The class was very small, as the interest in Advanced Herbology was low, most careers only required a decent grade in standard Herbology, so even those with interest had to prioritise other things for the sake of their future, such as Potions or Charms. There were only the two of you and a pair of Slytherin girls who, despite seeming genuinely very passionate about the subject, refused to converse with the two of you and whispered amongst themselves all the time. This was fine with both of you, as you had each other, taking time to study together, walking to and from class, and working efficiently during any pair work. The two of you had been ripped apart during the war, you had to steer clear of Hogwarts for your safety, and Neville, being intensely monitored by the Carrows at the time, refused to write to you and risk revealing your location to them, so you had been out of contact for quite a while. You wrote to him again on his birthday and had been corresponding a little since, but things felt slightly stunted. You hadn't seen each other in so long and Neville was never the best when it came to socialising. 

Arriving at Hogwarts once again had been intensely bittersweet. So many good and bad memories to try and process all at once, it felt overwhelming. You'd had to step outside during the sorting but found yourself far from alone out there. So many people were broken. You apprehensively made your way over to Hermione and said hello. She pulled you into a tight hug, as you hadn't seen her for a long time either. You listened as she explained about Harry and Ron, that they didn't want to go into teaching, and though she'd explained over and over that most people that do the program don't end up teaching, they'd still refused to come. Trying to make the most of it, she tells you it'll be nice to spend time with other friends for once and you nod along. She is somehow specialising in three subjects, she'd wanted to do more of course, but it hadn't been allowed. Trust Hermione to work herself to the bone happily. You'd made it to your room later that night, a private room with an en-suite, which felt awfully fancy for Hogwarts, and settled in. Being back was an odd feeling, you could see the cracks in the stone everywhere you looked, there was pain everywhere, yet so much good to try and find.

To your complete relief, when you started your first day in the Greenhouses, things fell back into place with Neville instantly. At first, you'd greeted him with a hug, which had been awkward as he hadn't been expecting it, but very pleasant once he figured out what was going on. Soon after this though, as Professor Sprout set you her first task (to prepare some plants for her third years), things were back to as they were, perfect. You worked together well, talking and laughing easily, and though occasionally the chat went sour and the mood fell, this was happening with everyone lately, a byproduct of the war, there was so little to talk about that wasn't tarnished that it was a wonder the two of you were able to laugh as much as you were. Neither of the two girls from advanced Herbology were there, and although this initially saddened you both, you conceded that there could be many reasons for it. There weren’t many Slytherin returners, there never had been, but after the war especially, the turnout was pathetic. Most Slytherins avoided their peers after the war for fear of ostracism, which was fair as people had some pretty bad opinions on them but sad because there were several Slytherins who hadn’t been on the wrong side of history who were still facing hostility. 

The course was a lot of independent study of assigned texts and essay-writing, but all day on a Tuesday and half a day on a Thursday, the two of you were in the smaller greenhouse behind the ones for teaching, working on various projects, which also sometimes required your attention out of teaching hours. This greenhouse was set aside initially for research purposes at Sprout’s predecessor's request, but now was being used to train those in the higher education program. Despite this greenhouse being smaller than the two nearer the grounds, it was still fairly large and complex. Upon entering, you came into a little cloakroom, where you would have to don your aprons and gloves before entering, with a sink in the corner for washing up when leaving and entering. The next room was the main growing area, growing various plants that weren’t dangerous but were still perhaps best kept out of the reach of the younger students. There was a long wooden workbench in the middle of the room for potting and taking notes and whatever else you might need to do. Off of the opposite end of this room, there were three doors, one that led to a small room which was always kept humid and at tropical temperatures, one which was always kept cool and dry and one lockable room in which more dangerous plants were kept, such as venomous tentacula or fanged geraniums, only to be accessed with Professor Sprout supervising. 

Professor Sprout would only tutor the two of you on Thursday, so with the exception of the first few weeks, the two of you were entirely alone from 9 am to 4 pm on a Tuesday. Although it sounded a little salacious when you told friends, the truth was that most Tuesdays you were both too busy for anything to happen. Not that anything would of course, but certain assumptions were made when people heard you were alone together for hours with what they assumed was an easy subject. Mostly your days were full of tending to the plants, having to frequently refer to your notes for how each should be cared for (how much water? what temperature should the water be? do they require singing to?), observing any plants that were the subjects of your essays and preparing plants so they would be safe for lessons with younger year groups. 

It’s a Tuesday like any other. Neville is carefully planting some seeds across the workbench from where you’re delicately pruning a particularly active flitterbloom bush, setting the clippings aside to send to the potions department later. One of Neville’s research subjects is observing what methods of growth acceleration work the best and cause the least damage to the plants they’re applied to. He has been planting, growing and replanting dittany over and over for weeks now, but was still gathering more data as he came across more and more methods to test, and each had to be tested several times over to rule out external factors. 

Your research was on the merits and drawbacks of pruning, and which plants took best and worst to the practice. Pruning was useful as it allowed more ingredients to be obtained from individual plants for potioneering purposes, but generally was thought to be harmful to the overall health of the plant. You were attempting to write a definitive list of which of the 25 most common plants used in potions could be pruned and which couldn’t, which to your surprise had hardly been researched before as the belief of its harmfulness had permeated the field since 1870 and most Herbologists had steered clear of it since. Your research seemed to be proving it wasn’t nearly as harmful as thought.

The two of you chat idly as Neville uses a pipette to apply various growth potions to the soil of his newly planted seeds and you carefully measure the regrowth of a stem of the flitterbloom bush that you pruned a few weeks ago, struggling as the stem swayed about. 

“I can’t believe Hermione talked Ron and Harry into actually joining the course next term,” Neville hums, extracting exactly 5 millilitres of potion from a bottle with his pipette. You scoff. 

“For real this time? They keep saying that yet nothing ever comes of it,” you shake your head, scribbling down your measurement on the parchment beside you.

“Yes, really, two new rooms have appeared in the boys' dorms with their names on them, if Hogwarts knows, it must really be happening,” his tongue sticks out slightly between his teeth as he concentrates on dropping the liquid right in the middle of the little pot. Not wanting to throw his research, you wait until he’s done to reply.

“Perhaps Harry and Ron don’t even know it themselves,” you joke, making Neville chuckle. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the castle decided it for them,” he carefully pushes the cork back into the top of the potion bottle. “The castle is quite odd lately, perhaps it has whatever its equivalent of brain damage is from the war, it’s acting much more blatantly,”

“How so?” you tilt your head in his direction, soothing your finger over the agitated stem that you just had to hold taut for measuring. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories of people getting stuck in rooms with the people they like, doors literally disappearing until they confess or otherwise!”  Neville laughs, carefully moving his pots back to their designated spot on the windowsill. With his back turned, you can’t help but glance at the door despite yourself, wondering if it’s still there. It is. You quickly avert your eyes from the door as he turns back toward you. “It’s why there’s suddenly all these couples popping up, sure the castle has always been a little cheeky, but never so obvious before, it all started with the higher education wing appearing overnight and it’s seemingly been madness since,” he shakes his head, picking up another batch of pots containing little sprouts at various heights that he has to measure. 

“It’s sweet how many people have liked each other and not even known… has it always been people who like each other stuck together?” you ask, stroking your quill, feeling the soft tufts beneath your fingers. 

“As far as I’ve heard, each time it’s happened it’s ended well,” Neville shrugs, rifling through his bag for his measuring tape. You glance at the door again, seeing it still there. Unrequited, you figure, that door will stay right where it is. 

“I wonder where the brain of the castle is if it even has such a thing… it is sentient in some ways, so there must be an equivalent right?” you ponder as he loudly removes his books from his bag and thuds them onto the workbench. 

“The room of requirement? For some reason that comes to mind… a fire in your brain can’t be good,” he chuckles, his voice slightly strained as he peers under the table for the offending measuring tape.

“You can borrow mine,” you suggest softly as he comes up with nothing. 

“No it’s fine, you need it,” he waves his hand dismissively, standing up from his stool. “I’ll fetch mine from my room, I’m fairly certain I know exactly where it is on my desk, can’t believe I forgot it again,” he grumbles the last part to himself. “Be back in 15, watch my plants,” he smiles, although you can tell from his sheepish look that he’s embarrassed to have forgotten something yet again. Luckily, you could head back to fetch things at any time at your level, no longer having to ask to go to the toilet or anything like that. There was no one here to ask. You smile back, watching as he enters the cloakroom. A few moments later, you see his heavily blurred figure heading up the hill through the heavily rippled glass of the greenhouse windows. In the newfound quiet, you return to your work, hearing only the spray of simulated rain in the tropical growing room. 

Finally finished with the flitterbloom, you stand to retrieve your next plant, a valerian bush, for pruning. As you move to stand and step forward, you feel an odd pressure at your ankle. Stepping forward anyway, you realise too late that your foot is hooked on a support between the legs of your stool, sending both you and the stool off balance and toppling over toward the room-length counter that holds all the various plants. Reflexively, your body twists and your arms come up to shield your head as you thud loudly into the solid wood surface, causing a choir of wobbling pots, luckily with no ensuing crash of broken terracotta, you had to count your blessings somewhere. A dull pain throbs through your body, starting from the side that crashed against the counter. Thud! A yelp rips from you as the stool, still twined with your leg, falls onto your thigh. Luckily, it is only light and will leave a small bruise at most, your side colliding with the counter on the other hand…. You shut your eyes tight, feeling utterly embarrassed about what just happened despite being alone. You weren’t normally this clumsy and you were sure you looked a mess, an undignified heap on the floor, too shocked to stand up or even open your eyes yet. In the permeating silence, you sit on the cold stone floor and try not to cry, from the shock more than the pain. 

A violent sneeze overtakes your body, the action of it hurting your side. You sniff and cough, dust seemingly surrounding you. You must have jostled some old dusty plants that hadn’t been touched in a while when you collided with the surface. Surrendering to the coughs and sniffs that wracked through your pained body, you wait it out until the dust subsides, grabbing your bruised side as you double over with violent sneezes and sputters. Finally, a deep breath of clean air, you sag against the counter and try to gather yourself now you can breathe properly once more.

“It was exactly where I thought it was…” The door from the cloakroom creaks open in the silence as Neville enters, clutching his measuring tape. “I can be so scatterbrained,” he huffs, his eyes sweeping the room at the height he expects you to be. In embarrassment your eyes squeeze tighter, not wanting him to see the mess you’d gotten yourself into. Upon not seeing you, he glances around for any evidence you might be in one of the back rooms, though not thinking of a reason you would be. 

“Down here,” you squeak, your voice hoarse from coughing. The words itch your throat and you splutter slightly once more as he rounds the workbench and spots you on the ground. You give a sheepish smile, finally having opened your eyes. It’s painfully obvious from your stool-adorned leg what happened, you just hope he doesn’t think any less of you. He shouldn’t, he has a reputation for being clumsy himself, but you can’t help but worry. “I fell,” you rasp pathetically. 

“Are you alright?” he surges toward you and kneels, immediately examining your head for any bumps, rubbing over your scalp gently. The action makes your cheeks heat up, but you try to ignore it. 

“I’m okay, I landed on my side,” you reply as he carefully removes the stool from around your leg and stands it back up beside the workbench. His arms wrap around you and he carefully lifts you to stand, you yelp as the movement stretches your side and he shushes you gently. 

“It’s alright, there we go… just—,” he holds you steady until you’re stable on your feet. When he lets go of you, it feels oddly painful deep in your stomach, but you brush that off. 

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly. 

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” he asks, bringing his hand up to feel your skull once more, worrying over whether you might have been badly injured. You lean slightly into his hand without meaning to.

“No I promise, it was just my side and my thigh,” you insist, inwardly wishing he’d brush his hand against those spots to check them. For a moment his hand moves like he might, but he stops himself. 

“If you’re sure,” he inspects you once more, hovering behind you as you sit back down on the stool, trying to brush past this whole incident. “Can I grab your plant for you?” he offers. “Which were you going for?” you want to complain, but his eyes are wide and earnest and you know he wants to help.

“The valerian… and could you pop the flitterbloom back for me?” you request, hesitantly testing the tender skin where the stool collided with your thigh, wincing at the throb of pain that followed your touch. Neville dutifully returns the flitterbloom to the counter, then places the valerian bush before you. Behind you, you hear him gently pushing some of the pots that had moved when you smashed into the counter back into place. You flush and keep your head down, pretending to inspect the valerian bush but not being able to focus. Your brain feels a little fogged up, you assume from the shock of the fall. Not wanting to alarm Neville in any way, you grab your tape measure and pretend to measure the leaf regrowth. He quietly moves around the workbench, bringing his pots over to your side of the bench and sitting down beside you to resume his work, his brows furrowed in concern for you. “Really, I’m okay,” you chuckle, but the weakness of your voice does little to reassure him.

“It’s better if I sit here, just in case something happens,” he says, more firmly than he usually says anything. That side of him was new since the war, this ability to stick up for himself in smaller situations. He’d always known how to stick up for the greater good, but little things like this, he would allow himself to be walked all over, too scared of losing a friend. Now that he has more confidence, he’s not so afraid to dispute his nearest and dearest, knowing you’re unlikely to end your friendship with him over this. And if you did, it would be weird and not his fault anyway. The tone of voice is also on the newer side and it stirs something in your belly.

You sit side by side working on your respective projects. Well, Neville is working, you’re more just going through the motions while your mind hovers elsewhere, not allowing you to focus on what you’re meant to be doing. Maybe you were concussed… but you hadn’t hit your head during the fall, so what was wrong? You take a few deep breaths, trying to slow your heart which still seems to be beating slightly fast. Slowly but surely, your body starts to feel a little warm. You glance to make sure the door to the tropical room hasn't opened as your cardigan starts to feel a little stuffy. No matter where you look in the room, you can’t find any source of excess heat. A puff of breath breaches your lips, you’re growing uncomfortable now, the heat only seems to rise and rise. With great unnecessary difficulty, you wrestle yourself free of your cardigan, throwing the wretched thing on the ground beside you with a grunt. Neville gives you a confused look, but not yet seeing anything obviously wrong with you, returns to his measurements. There is relief from the warmth that was engulfing you, but only for ten minutes at most, as soon you are sweltering once more. An awful voice at the back of your head tries to convince you to throw off all of your clothes, but you keep it together, merely squirming in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to try and quell the growing ache in your belly that your mind isn’t quite registering yet. In a last-ditch effort, you sip some water from your lukewarm water bottle, the relief it provides is even shorter than before. Your head whips around now, searching fruitlessly once more for the source of this despicable heat, but finds nothing. Neville is unfazed beside you, still wearing his sweater and looking perfectly comfortable. The only thing you can think of is that Neville must be radiating the heat, as nothing else could explain your sudden discomfort. You reach your hand out toward him, trying to gauge if it gets warmer the closer it gets to his side. This finally catches his attention and when he looks up, he’s met with your flushed clammy face and dilated pupils.

“Whoa! Is everything alright?” he sputtered, leaning back slightly as if worried you’re contagious. This upsets you and you let out an unseemly whine.

“I’m hot,” you huff, pushing your hair back from your face to get more cool air on your skin. “Really hot,” Neville’s eyes brush over you for a moment as he considers just how hot you are, before promptly snapping himself out of it.

“You do look a little… feverish,” he agrees, reaching out and touching the back of his hand to your forehead. You lean forward into the touch, moaning softly. Your skin is burning and slightly tacky with sweat, which makes Neville frown deeply. How could you have suddenly developed such a terrible fever? He pulls his hand back, but you immediately whine and claw at his arm to pull his hand back. Too baffled to protest, he lets you pull his hand to your cheek and watches you lean against it happily. He gently runs his thumb over your cheekbone before catching himself. “Are you alright?” he enquires once more, keeping his voice soothing.

“Don’t stop touching me,” you pout, looking up at him through your lashes with a look that is wholly inappropriate for an academic premises. He swallows.

“Wha-what?” he stammers, watching as you nuzzle against his hand.

“It helps the heat… don’t stop,” you whimper, reaching out to try and pull him closer by his sweater, but not being strong or focused enough to do it. This failure pulls another whine from you. Neville’s mind reels completely and he has to look away from you to compose himself, though he keeps your cheek cradled in his palm. What was going on with you? Were you ill? His eyes find the spot where he’d found you on the floor just earlier in his attempts to avoid the sultry unexplainable look you were giving him. “I need you to touch me,” you mewl, making him shiver.

“I’m not sure that’s–” he cuts himself off when his eyes land on the plant on the counter above where you fell. Lamprocapnos libidinosus, also known as the dripping heart, a magical relative of the bleeding heart flower in the muggle world. A common ingredient in lust potions and aphrodisiacs, highly dangerous in the wrong hands due to the potent amorous effects of its spores. Neville vaguely remembers Professor Sprout's warnings that one of the PhD students was being allowed to grow it for research and to steer completely clear of it. A warning he’s sure you would have headed if you hadn’t been tumbling toward it. Even from afar, he notices a couple of burst spore pods. “Oh no…” he mumbles to himself, dropping his hand from your cheek. You immediately protest but he stops you short. “When you fell… you didn’t happen to breathe in any dust, did you?” his voice shakes slightly, this cannot be happening to you. He always thought they shouldn’t have the plant growing in this greenhouse, even if only experienced herbologists were allowed in. Accidents happened as he knew all too well, and now his vague fears had become a biting reality.

“Yeah, why?” your voice is soft and sweet as you paw at him, trying to get him to hug you, or presumably something more. Neville flushes brightly and shoots upright, making a mad dash for his textbooks, still on the workbench from when he’d been searching through his bag. You wail at his absence, feeling the heat that had reduced to a low simmer return to a full boil. “Please…” you sob at him, not even knowing why you want what you want. “Just hold me, comfort me,” The look in your eye has him breaking, and if he remembers what little he’s read about the plant, you must be rather uncomfortable right now. He returns to your side and allows you to cling to his arm, bumping your head into his shoulder like a loving cat, while he frantically searches for the information he needs to help you. After several panicked flick-throughs, he locates the page.

Lamprocapnos libidinosus; also known as the Dripping Heart or the Flower of Lust.

At the top of the page is information entirely useless to this cause, the best season to plant, how much light is needed, etcetera, but finally Neville finds what he’s looking for under the ‘uses’ section. It’s tough to focus on reading when you’re practically trying to get under his sweater with him, pushing the knit material slightly up his side, your fingertips brushing his abdomen and making him jolt. He pushes your hand away but pulls you into a hug to silence your outcries, which you’re more than happy to sink into. He’s hugged you plenty of times so he pretends this is perfectly normal as he wills his brain to digest what's in front of him on the page. It’s hard to keep this pretending up as he can hear you sniffing him and moaning deeply at the smell of his shower gel, mixed with just a hint of sweat, which in this state only fuels your arousal, acting as a pheromone, worsening your need.

He skims the section frantically. Inhalation of the spores will lead to overwhelming feelings of lust even in small doses, however, the dose may affect who this lust is directed toward. Smaller doses will only worsen lust toward people already lusted after by the infected person, while larger doses will cause these feelings of lust to latch onto whoever is around, no matter prior relationships. The infected person will pursue their object of affection at any cost, they will be unable to focus on anything but the lust that has overtaken them. These feelings of lust, if left untreated, can cause extreme discomfort in the infected person, high fevers, intense symptoms of arousal (such as fluid secretions), shivers, brain fog and other symptoms varying by person and dose. The only way to cure the infected person of these symptoms and return them to full faculties is to have them reach climax.

It seems that you have chosen him as the object of your affections. Neville looks down at you as you hug him tight, continuously trying to slip your hand beneath his jumper. Out of selfish curiosity, he heads for the plant to try and determine how large of a dose you got and whether you may have already experienced feelings of lust toward him before the effects of the plant. When he moves away, you practically sob.

“Please don’t!” you wail, diving for him and into his arms once more. For now, you seemed to be mostly content just being held in his arms, and it’s clear you find it painful when separated from him for even a moment, so Neville has to relent. He delicately lifts you, and although having you wrap your legs around his hips hadn’t been a part of his plan, he supposes it does help keep you steady. He blushes brightly as he walks over to inspect the flower. He’s never held anyone like this, so intimately. Your skirt rides up where your legs wrap around him and he has to tear his eyes away before his thoughts become too inappropriate. You like the sight as much as he does. “You’re so strong,” you purr in his ear, your voice much lower than normal. He shivers and you feel it, the knowledge you’re having some effect on him overtakes your lust-addled brain. 

“Th-thank you, I’ve been exercising a lot since the war,” he mumbles, counting all the burst pods on the plant. He counts five, but he’s not sure if that’s considered a large dose or not. Probably, but the pods do look rather small.

“Mmm, it’s so hot…” you purr, trying to wriggle against him. Neville’s face turns red and he practically drops you, but holds you steady so you don’t fall once more once your feet touch the ground.

“Don’t say stuff like that!” he yelps.

“It’s true,” you pout. “I need you,” you try to hop up into his arms again but he holds you firmly on the ground, practically shaking. Really, this should’ve been a dream come true for him, he’d had feelings for you practically since the day the two of you met, but he felt disgusted with himself for every wave of excitement that passed over him. You were burning up, your cheeks brightly flushed, a deep ache at the pit of your belly and an ever-growing wetness in your underwear. All you could think about was how it might feel to have Neville soothing the fire inside you with deep strong thrusts, you moan aloud, if you focus enough you can almost feel it. “I bet you’re big, I bet you’d fill me up so well,” you murmur, looking up at him seductively.

“I- Merlin…” Now Neville feels overheated, he tries to push you away a little but you aren’t letting him. The image of filling you up won’t leave his head no matter how much he commands it to. It doesn’t help that you’re now trying your best to reach his jaw to kiss it. 

“Please…” you beg once more. “I need it so badly…” his resistance crumbles for a moment and his hands drop from your sides, allowing you to rush forward and attach your lips to his jaw. His eyes slip shut and he whimpers as you hold him close and lavish his neck and jaw with attention. His arms wrap around you, hands gently skimming your back as you continue to pepper him with kisses. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, your hand dropping to the buckle of his belt. The feeling of you tugging at his belt makes his eyes shoot open. He realises in a sudden flood of shame what he’s allowed you to do. You’ll hate him for this once you’re back to normal. He grabs your shoulders harshly and pushes you away. You squeak as he sits you on one of the stools, your eyes filling with tears at the rejection. You’d been so close to what you needed, and now with this newfound distance from him, you were in pain once more, a horrible throb in your stomach. 

“Listen to me,” he breathes shakily. “We can’t do this, you’ll regret it as soon as it’s over,”

“No, I–”

“You’re not in your right mind, you don’t know what you actually want,” he asserts again, reminding himself more than anything. He takes a deep breath and thinks. The only way to cure you according to the textbook was for you to reach climax. In colloquial stories about the plant, he’d always heard that orgasm would have to be reached with the help of another person, but the book didn’t stipulate this, maybe this was the answer. You could do it alone. His cheeks were flushed bright red as he opened his mouth once more. “What you need to do is… er… I’m going to take you into the cloakroom, alright?” he swallows, cautiously pulling you up from the stool onto your feet. You would need to sit somewhere to do this presumably and sitting on the stool or the workbench in here could lead to falling and disaster all over again. The best place he could think of was the bench in the cloakroom where people could sit to remove their shoes. You would have the wall to lean against and wouldn’t be sitting on the cold stone floor. Beneath you, he lays out a towel and then helps you to sit down on top of it. The towel was intended to make you more comfortable, but he considers with a blush that it might be necessary for other reasons also. He clears his throat. “Now, you have to… er… get yourself… uhm…” he can’t seem to make himself say the words. With a soft tug at his sleeve, you pull him to kneel between your legs, your faces nearly level given how much height he has on you. 

Before he can stop you, you kiss him. His brain stops functioning for a moment, all he can do is wrap his arms around you and kiss back, so intoxicated by the way your lips move against his. He didn’t have much experience with kissing, but there was no doubt this was the best kiss of his life. You moan against his mouth and it sets all his nerve-endings alight, making him push even closer to you in desperation. For you, the kiss is a sweet relief, cool water washing over your overheated body, but even so, you need more. There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs, a horrible feeling of emptiness that you know only Neville could fill. Trying to urge him on, you brush your tongue against his lips, hoping for entry. You’re allowed in for one tantalising moment before he pulls away with a start when your tongues graze against each other. The whine that rips from your throat is downright pathetic, but you don’t have the faculties to care at that moment. You look at him through your lashes, watching as he fights to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Never in his life has he felt as weak as in this moment, rendered so malleable by his desire for you. The two of you are friends. How will you react when you come back to normal and discover he let you kiss him in this state? That he’s allowed his selfishness to get in the way of what’s right? He jumps to his feet, ignoring your cries and protests as much as it pains him to do so.

“Look, the textbook says that the only way to cure you of this is… a uh… a climax,” he blushes and chokes on the words slightly. “I’m going to keep watch outside that nobody comes in, all you have to do is… you know…”

“Get myself off?” you supply in a sultry voice. 

“Yes, exactly,” he clears his throat, turning to leave you alone.

“Nev, please… I need your help… I don’t want to do it alone,” you plead, your voice soft and needy.  

“No, you can do it alo– oh… wow,” he exhales heavily as his eyes reach you once more. In an effort to persuade him, you’d pulled up the hem of your skirt and spread your legs, revealing your thighs and your soaked panties to him. The cold air makes you shiver but doesn’t actually cool you down in the slightest. It takes a great deal of strength to keep Neville from lunging himself at you. You look positively delicious, the wetness of your panties allowing him an outline of your most intimate areas, the skin of your thighs soft and plump and enticing. If he was even a slightly feebler man, he’d already be on his knees, devouring you through the thin, damp fabric. Just imagining how you might taste has him weak in the knees. “Oh Merlin…” he breathes, feeling his erection, which has been slightly present for the last half-hour or so, straining painfully against the zip of his jeans. The needy seductive look on your face almost breaks him, he takes a step toward you, causing you to light up, before he stops himself and just stares. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, unable to help himself. He watches you squirm in response. 

“Please, I need you,” you beg, unbuttoning your shirt as he observes. The garment falls to the ground, leaving you in your plain bra. Neville doesn’t seem to mind how simple the garment is in the slightest, his breath hitching as you reveal yourself.

“I really shouldn’t” he tries again, but he cannot rip his eyes from your body.

“I can’t do it alone, I feel so empty,” you whimper, spreading your legs further. “Please, fill me, I need your cock,” Neville nearly faints at those words, at the pleading way you say them, at how desired you’re making him feel. His legs carry him forward before his brain can catch up and he sits beside you on the bench. His brain finally does catch up just in time to stop you from sitting in his lap.

“Maybe I can help a little, but we can’t… I can’t uh… I can’t ‘fill’ you,” he gives in, despite knowing he probably shouldn’t. He had heard many times that another person was needed to reverse the effects of the Dripping Heart, so it was likely he did have to help, given the fact you hardly seemed satisfied with the idea of getting off alone. He could still be as much of a gentleman about it as possible. He knew the both of you had limited sexual experience, he himself was a virgin and though he wasn’t sure about you, he would guess you were in the same boat or had only had one partner before. With both of you having so little experience, he didn’t want to go all the way, as for you it would likely be regrettable. You plead with him softly, trying to climb into his lap still, despite his strong arms holding you at bay. Each plea weakens his resolve and he knows you know it because you’re babbling now.

“Please, please Nev, I need you inside me, to fuck me, I’ve never needed anything so badly, please, I know you want me too,” he deserved a medal for being able to resist you for this long, most other boys would have given in the second the girl of their dreams said something even remotely flirty, but he was somehow just barely resisting your pleas to have sex with him.

“Sit down,” he implores you, and you quickly obey, batting your lashes at him. “I’m going to help you, okay? But you need to stay still and just… take what I give you, don’t ask for more, okay?” These words seem to excite you, you squirm and nod, eagerly allowing him to spread your legs. His shaking hand rests on your bare thigh for a moment as he takes a few composing breaths. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, it was something he had dreamed of incessantly, but now it felt like it could ruin his life if he wasn’t careful. You tug softly at his arm, trying to get his hand where you want it, bucking against the air.

“Please…” you sob, clenching around nothing as you look at his large hand against your thigh. He shushes you gently.

“I’m about to, just give me a second,” he stammers, trying to sort through his brain for any information he has on how to do this. He averts his eyes, figuring you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you so intimately, even if the damp fabric of your panties had already given him a pretty good look. Slowly, he places his hand on the apex of your thigh, shivering at the damp warmth he can feel radiating from your core. You mewl. Despite the pain in his neck from the position, he keeps his eyes locked on the wall behind you, pointedly ignoring how arousing the sounds you made were. Gathering his courage, he carefully slips the tips of his fingers past the fabric of your underwear and groans aloud at how wet you are. Your nectar gathers on his fingers and for a moment he just gently swipes them up and down to gather as much as possible, hearing your desperate moans as you lean your head on his shoulder. He never knew a woman could be this wet, and sure perhaps the flower was exacerbating it, but the thought still had him unendingly aroused. The angle wasn’t quite right, so he removed his hand, whining in unison with you at the separation. Your essence dripping down his fingers was like a siren song, trying to lure him to lick his fingers clean and finally get a taste of you. How could he ever explain that to you later? To his infinite regret, he doesn’t bring them to his mouth, sliding his hand into your panties once more, now from the top. This angle works a lot better, your hips immediately buck as his fingers slide over your clit.

“There, please, right there,” you beg, and he’s glad for the advice. A little unsure but determined (no point backing out now, at least he might be able to cure you), he relocates the spot that makes you shiver and whine. Your reaction tells you exactly when he’s found the little bundle of nerves once more and he takes a deep breath, before gently beginning to circle his fingers around it. It’s something he remembers hearing in the common room, and it seems it was good advice as soon you’re panting in his ear like a dog in heat, mewling his name softly. He can’t believe the noises you’re making, the sinful way you’re saying his name, it’s like perfect torture, it takes a lot out of him not to look. “Yes, fuck… Nev…” you whine, feeling the syrupy pleasure coursing through your body. “Yes, yes! More!” 

“More?” he croaks, unsure what you mean by that. As a guess, he tries circling faster, and though you definitely seem to like it, your hips canting up into his touch, he can feel you shaking your head against his shoulder.

“Need you inside,” you cry, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“We- we can’t do- that,” he stutters, although he’s never wanted to more in his life. He wholeheartedly agrees with your pained sob in response, but he knows it’s for the best. “How about… er… my fingers? Inside?” he gulps, flustered that he’s even in a situation where he can ask such a thing. 

“O-okay,” you whimper. Neville fumbles around for a moment, trying to figure out where to put his fingers. It would be much easier if he could see what he was doing, but he’s already decided he shouldn’t. The fact that he touched you will no doubt be mortifying enough once you’re back to normal. With a little guidance from you, he very slowly and cautiously presses two fingers into you, making you gasp in pleasure. You’re wet and warm and tight around his fingers and he practically drools imagining how you might feel around his cock, almost cumming on the spot just thinking about it. Merlin, he was such a pathetic virgin, maybe he should be taking the chance and losing his virginity now, but it just doesn’t feel right when he doesn’t know how you’ll feel about it afterwards. He presses his forehead to the cool wall to calm himself down and prevent him from looking at how you took his fingers in, withdrawing them just slightly and then pressing them back in. The sound that comes from you makes Neville’s heart skip, so lewd and sinful and full of ecstasy. He wants desperately to kiss you, but he knows he shouldn’t. 

At your renewed pleading, he starts up a steady pace, thrusting his fingers in and out the way he wished he could with his cock, feeling filthy for even thinking it. The wet sound that each thrust made, accompanied by your wanton moans makes him feel like he’s the one who has been infected by the flower, so crazed with desire. Could there have been some pollen on you that he inhaled when he helped you up? It didn’t seem impossible, but he was also a young man, they weren’t exactly notorious for being level-headed when it came to sex. You lean heavily against him, gasping against his shoulder at each press of his fingers, the coil in your belly twisting tighter than it ever had before. You mumble incoherent pleas and he simply shushes you, not trusting himself not to give in to you if you keep talking. 

“Thumb,” you breathe between vulgar moans and though it takes his sluggish brain a moment, he realises what you want. He presses his fingers deeper, fumbling a moment before his thumb grazes your sensitive bud, making you sob in pleasure. His large deft hand pleasures you like it was made for it, all you can think of is the bliss he’s giving you as he hits all the right spots over and over. Your hand flies up, nails digging into his arm as you realise you’re dangerously close to exploding, despite the bite of your nails, he doesn’t let up his pace, too addicted to the sound of your moans to slow down now. “Nev… I’m–” you cut yourself off with a shout, pleasure shooting through your body like you were struck by lighting. Your muscles tense and tremble, your eyes rolling back in your skull, walls contracting around his fingers hard. The pleasure goes through you in strong waves, drowning you in it, not allowing you respite from shivers and moans for even a second as it wracks through you. You’d never felt anything so intense and all-consuming before. Neville feels your essence gush onto his fingers and though he should be relieved it’s over, he finds himself disappointed that he has to stop doing this, hearing those bewitching sounds. Gently, he removes his hand from you and guides your skirt back down your thighs so he can finally look toward you again. His fingers are covered in your essence, creamy and mouth-watering, the only thing that’s able to stop him from having a taste is your hand still clinging to his arm. He waits for you to gather your breath, silently smug he was able to help, but also petrified of what happens next. 

“Are you alright?” he asks delicately, shifting his erection away from your back now that you might actually register it. You open your eyes and look up at him, which immediately makes him frown. Your pupils are still almost comically dilated, your cheeks still pink and clammy, and though it could just be from the aftermath of your orgasm, he immediately knows something is still wrong.

“I feel better… but not entirely,” you whisper and Neville bites his lip. Great. He stands to wash his hands in the sink, and during that brief period of absence, he watches you become consumed by the effects of the flower again, pleading for him to come back. He splashes water on his face and takes a deep breath. You had reached climax, he may not be an expert in female orgasms but he knew what he just saw and felt, so what was wrong? Was the plant in the greenhouse genetically modified in some way? Would he have to call Professor Sprout to ask for help? How exactly could he explain that he’d already given you an orgasm and it hadn’t worked? Looking back, he should have taken you to Madam Pomfrey the second he’d realised what had happened to you, but he thought you would have found it too embarrassing. Now things would be infinitely more embarrassing for the both of you if you sought out help. Lesson learned, just because he’d survived a war it didn’t mean he could deal with anything life threw at him alone. He feels you approaching from behind and turns around, allowing you to sink into his arms. “Stay with me,” you plead, holding him close.

“Okay,” he sighs, because what else can he do now? “I’m here,” He caresses your bare back and tries to forget what he just did to you, but he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, kissing your forehead without thinking. “I’ve made a mess of things, we did all that and you’re not even cured,”

“Why won’t you fuck me?” you whimper. Your boldness doesn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Because it’s not what you really want, you’d never forgive me once things got back to normal, I was just the only person around for the pollen to latch onto,”

“But that’s what the pollen wants, maybe that’s the only way to cure it, I don’t just want an orgasm, I want you inside me,” you suggest. He’s glad you’re slightly more lucid from the relief of your climax, but you’re still not entirely yourself, your voice slow and sluggish like wading through water when trying to formulate logical thoughts. He can’t deny the way his cock, which had softened slightly, was coming back to life at your words. “Please…” you nuzzle against his chest. “I promise you, I want this even when I’m not… whatever I am right now,” you chuckle. He sighs. He doesn’t quite believe you but he’s running out of ideas of what to do, and your friendship is presumably ruined anyway. Maybe he’s making excuses for himself, but it feels more and more like there’s only one thing for it. He prays you’ll remember how much you begged and how hard he tried to be a gentleman and not hate him, even if you avoid him for the rest of your life after this. “I need you,” you whisper and he gives in.

“Forgive me for this,” he pleads, before lifting you into his arms and moving back over to the bench, sitting down and letting you straddle his lap. You smile at him softly, fluttering your lashes. At least the orgasm before made you a little calmer and more agreeable. If nothing else, if he gets you to orgasm again, you might be even closer to normal. He pulls you to his chest taking a moment to embrace you for what he worries may be the last time. You nuzzle into him eagerly. “I’m a virgin, you know?” he mumbles into your shoulder, not knowing why he feels the need to say it. Those words seem to embolden you, you paw at his chest.

“I promise it’ll be good, please…” you purr. He wonders how you might have reacted if you were your regular self. Would you have found it sweet? Would you have pitied him? You probably knew, everyone knew, but you never mentioned it to him. He allows you to pull off his sweater, lifting his arms and watching you discard it across the room. When you lean in to kiss him, he doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight, holding the back of your neck and kissing you back, pouring all his unspoken feelings into it. He tries to keep it slow and gentle, but you’re far too eager, and the heat starts mounting fast. He pushes away all his doubts, telling himself he can enjoy this, or else it would be even more of a waste. The t-shirt that was under his sweater is next to go, as he pulls away to allow you to rid him of it, he studies your face, still flushed and feverish, but so beautiful, full of lust. His hands fall, one to your waist and the other to your cheek, pulling you back in, pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue between them. You moan against his mouth, whimpering a soft sound, a thank you or a plea for more, it’s unclear. He groans back in agreement with whatever it was you intended to say. Your tongues languidly swirl together, caressing one another affectionately. Feeling your warm hands on his bare chest makes him shiver, feeling as you explore the newfound definition of his abdomen, only light, but still a change. In turn, he presses a few kisses to your chest, shakily reaching up to rid you of your bra. It falls away and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare breasts, his breath hitching. He could have never hoped he could see you like this, could have never hoped for any of this, and yet here you were, whining and guiding his hands under your skirt. He runs his hands up and down your thighs as he kisses and sucks at the supple skin of your breasts, giving himself some time to enjoy this despite your hurry. Under different circumstances, he would have liked to have left a mark and asked you to give him one in return, but he knew this was crossing a line as if a million lines hadn’t already been crossed today. At this thought he changes his mind and sucks a tiny mark into the centre of your chest that he’s sure will fade in a few hours, staring at the light pink mark a little wistfully. “Need you inside…” you whine, despite enjoying his affection. There’d be time for that later, but right now it felt completely imperative for him to be inside of you, fearing you might explode if he didn’t give you what you wanted.

“Alright, I get it,” he sighs, placing a few more lingering kisses on the swell of your breasts. Your hands find his belt buckle and without him stopping you this time, they make quick work of it. There’s an awkward shuffle as he helps you lower his jeans around his ankles, but once you’ve settled back in his lap, you take in the sight before you. He looks big even through his boxers, just like you predicted, thick and slightly longer than average. Just the thought of him inside you makes you moan and claw off your skirt with no regard for whether it survives the encounter. Neville’s overheated back presses against the cool wall as he leans back to watch you. He doesn’t bother feeling insecure, as you look like you’ve struck gold as you drool over his length, he supposes in this state you would have been happy with anything. His hands slide up and down your sides, being gentle, taking in the sight of your body, so perfect. He wishes in the back of his mind that this won’t be the last time he sees it, but hope feels too dangerous given the circumstances. He helps you slide your panties down, groaning softly as he spots a string of arousal fluid connecting you and the fabric for a while. You want him so badly. His boxers soon follow and he hisses loudly as your hand wraps around his length. “Oh Merlin…” he whimpers, bucking his hips into your hand. “Fuck, I need you,” he parrots. The ghost of a smile crosses your face as you recognise the words as your own.

“You have me,” you whisper, shifting your hips so you’re above his cock, holding him steady as he twitches. Deep brown hooded eyes stare into yours, he can’t believe his luck. Unable to wait any longer, you sink down onto him. Neville’s eyes squeeze shut in pleasure and he grabs your hips to slow you. You feel perfect around him, warm and silky and inviting, engulfing his whole being in sickly-sweet pleasure. He pulls you close, embracing you as you moan in his ear. Slowly, he lowers you down the rest of the way until your hips are flush with his. For a moment, he simply hugs you and kisses your neck. 

“Feels so good,” he pants in your ear. “So good,”

“You fill me perfectly,” you whine, squirming in his lap for friction. “So big…”

“Yeah?” he coughs, trying to sound smooth but failing, causing him to chuckle nervously. “I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he rubs his hands up and down your spine. “I wish this could last forever,” He lets go of you and leans back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips, taking a moment to admire the sight of you on top of him, him inside you. You feel him twitch within you. “Take what you want, love,” he encourages you to move. There’s no point in him trying to remain in control, all he cares about is that you reach climax, he’s bound to anyway. The nickname makes you even needier somehow, the way his voice is deep with desire. Your hands find his shoulders for purchase, eyes meeting for a moment. You’re both flushed and blissful and the look in his dark eyes shoots a jolt through you. He’s always been attractive, but to see him like this, vulnerable, needy, chest-heaving, it was something else. On his advice, you begin lifting yourself up and lowering yourself down onto his cock, moaning unabashedly with each motion. He stretches you open in the most delicious way, exactly how you’d been picturing all day, or for several years really, perfectly endowed. He relaxes and closes his eyes, groaning and whimpering as you move. Every rock of your hips stokes the flames in the both of you, sending you both toward a common end faster than you regularly might. 

“Thank you,” you purr between moans. “I’ve needed this so bad,” 

“I know,” he chokes out with a tired smile. “I’ve needed it too,” he gently massages the fat of your rear as you ride him, watching in bliss as he disappears inside of you over and over. Your moans rise to a fever pitch, your pace faltering slightly as your climax approaches.

“Yes! Yes!” you practically scream, all your senses heightened as you slam your hips down against him. His face scrunches up in pleasure.

“I’m going to– Ahh!” he grunts, body trembling as he releases thick ropes inside of you, whining with the aftershocks as you continue using him to chase your high. It’s so close, you can’t give up now. Neville’s hands weave into your hair, pulling your face down to his to kiss you. Your tongues meet messily as you struggle to focus on the kiss, preoccupied with your orgasm that is on the tip of your tongue. Heat pools strongly in your abdomen, and you feel the familiar ecstasy of the coil snapping in your belly. Your movement immediately ceases, walls spasming around his length as you moan loudly into his mouth, grabbing him and holding him as close as possible. Your vision whites and your brain goes blank, your whole body twitching violently. He tries his best to soothe you through it, but the pleasure isn’t allowing a single thought to form in your mind for several moments. Finally, your muscles relax and you collapse against him heavily, chest heaving with effort, skin slick with sweat. You vaguely register him removing himself from you and wiping you with a towel, but the corners of your mind are fuzzy and you just cuddle closer to him. You sit in silence for a long while and you nearly fall asleep against his shoulder when he speaks up. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you hum. He tilts your chin up towards him.

“Open your eyes, love,” he implores softly, to which you flutter them open. He sighs a great sigh of relief, seeing your pupils shrink as they react to the light, dilated now a regular amount, and the flush on your cheeks is much less than before. “Do you still need me?” he asks.

“Don’t go,” you panic, holding him closer, but then you realise what he means. “Oh… no, all I want is to maybe have a nap,”

“Thank Merlin, I couldn’t have gone for another round,” he jokes stiltedly. You giggle, cuddling closer once more. “You don’t hate me then?” he mumbles, as if worried he will have reminded you to hate him, gently pushing some hair from your face. 

“No, you… saved me,” you shrug.

“Saved seems dramatic,”

“Well, who knows what would have happened to me if you’d just run away and left me alone? You didn’t have to do what you did, but you did it for me,” you lean up to kiss his cheek. “You gave yourself to me completely, just to save me from discomfort,”

“Trust me, it was my pleasure,” he laughs nervously and you gently swat his chest. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead with a barely contained tenderness.

“Yeah, you’ve proved that,” you grin, kissing his cheek again. “And I for you,”

“You’d have had sex with me if I’d been the one to bump into the plant?” he prompts, sliding his hand up your bare side affectionately. 

“Of course, I’d have done it way sooner too, not wasted time being a ‘gentleman’,” you tease. “Thank you for that though, it was sweet of you, even if it was unnecessary because I don’t regret it one bit,” you promise him, kissing his lips tenderly. He embraces you tighter for a moment and then loosens his grip. 

“We should probably leave, I bet it's past teaching hours now,” he sighs before helping you up and to dress. Your panties are well and truly ruined, so you’re forced to go commando under your skirt. Neville wraps his sweater around your hips to help prevent it from flipping up as you walk through the grounds back to the dorms. He finds it difficult to dress himself as you keep eagerly kissing him, but finally get himself presentable, only to be pulled into another kiss. It’s not desperate or lustful like before, more playful and excited, and he’s happy to accept them. “I take it you like me,” he chuckles as you hug him tight, his arms around you in return.

“Loads,” you sigh into his t-shirt.

“I do too,”

“My room? I promise we can just cuddle and sleep,” you suggest, smiling up at him.

“Hey, give me a few hours, I might be raring to go again,” he jokes.

“Well then definitely my room so I can help you out, I owe you one, don’t I?” you giggle and wink. He blushes slightly and shakes his head. 

“That plant has made a monster, come on,” he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go before someone notices and starts asking questions,” he opens the door into the greenhouse, accio-ing both of your bags over, as well as the open textbook from the workbench. “Stupid inaccurate thing,” he grumbles, stuffing it in his bag. You merely giggle at his frustration. As you turn to leave, you’re met with a gleam of magic, the door to the outside of the greenhouse rematerialising. The two of you exchange a look, neither of you had realised the door was even missing amidst the whole debacle, but it must have been, or else it couldn’t have reappeared. Hogwarts had forced the two of you together, it was likely your fall hadn’t even been organic in the first place. You knew you weren’t usually so uncoordinated.

“Huh,” Neville blinks, checking that the door now works, wondering when exactly it disappeared and how he had missed it. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief before the both of you laugh earnestly.

“Hogwarts is a total perv,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

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[bebx]

[axen-gers]

don't break your promise

summary: eddie munson made a promise to his girlfriend six months ago that after he graduated high school, he'd take her on the most rad road trip of all time. just him, her, and his rust bucket of a van. except eddie munson doesn't stick to that promise. instead he decided to play the hero.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader, platonic!dustin henderson x reader

warnings: major angst, eddie dying after playing hero, cursing (gotta love dusty), fake scenarios, crying, flesh eating bats, use of eddie's full first name, mentions of steve, mentions of robin, mentions of nancy, propsals, blood, gore, mentions of murder, no dialouge except for maybe saying the l word, the l word, me not knowing how to write properly

a/n: decided to torture myself and watch all of stranger things again and now i feel compelled to write about eddie and him dying cuz i just love to torture myself so why not do the same to you!

also if i tag something wrong, be nice about it, cuz im lowkey blind and don't double-check my tags, i just type a name and press. i'll also write almost anything, just ask. if you want a nancy or robin x fem!reader fic, ask, and i shall try my best!

wc: 746

masterlist | requests | taglist | rules

Edward Munson was a damn liar.

He had made a promise and was now choking on the blood of his lies. he decided not to follow the one strict rule that Steve Harrington had given him.

Don't play the damn hero.

Yet he had done so. To try and buy time for you and Dustin to make it back to the right side up, or to buy time for the three people who were supposed to play hero and try and kill Vecna. You didn't know which it was.

What you did know, however, was that Eddie was breaking his promise to you at this very moment.

the twenty-year-old had made a promise six months ago in the back seat of his van, with the air thick with smoke from the blunt being passed between the two of you. he had made a promise that the moment after he graduated, he was taking you, his rusted ass van, and enough clothes to last the end of the world for the worlds best roadtrip ever.

You had giggled at him in your mind-numbing high, thinking it had all been a joke. When he kept making mentions of it after, though, you realized how little of a joke it was.

That reality had started to slip the closer you got to the mutilated body of your boyfriend, with his weirdly younger follower friend limping at your side.

When you had reached Eddie's body, the sight of it made you fall to one knee, Dustin hurrying to his other side.

Eddie has bite marks everywhere. from his neck to his ankles, he had holes in his skin gushing out blood like it was a water fountain. There were marks on his wrists from where the demobats had held him down. There was blood marring his lips, mouth, and face, and when he opened his mouth to talk, it was staining his teeth.

His voice was hoarse from yelling, and the more he tried to talk, the more blood oozed out of his mouth, staining his pale white skin.

Your ears buzzed as the adrenaline started to leave your body, and it was like your brain started to work. Your eyes picked up on he fact that Dustin was sobbing, holding onto your boyfriend's hand, begging him to get up. that he was fine.

It was glaringly obvious that Eddie Munson was not fine.

Tears had started to collect in Eddie's eyes as he turned slowly towards you, taking in the sight of the blood, his blood, that now lay smudged on your skin from him trying to grab your cheek to turn your eyes to his.

You could faintly hear the sounds of him begging Dustin to make sure you'd be ok, to relay the message to Steve and Robin. hell, even Nancy if she would do so.

What brought you out of that adrenaline-filled haze was Eddie talking about the promise he was breaking at this very second.

oh right. the road trip.

The fateful road trip where Eddie was going to take you to see the mountains and hear loud and obnoxious metal music in strange bars in the middle of nowhere. The one where Eddie had wanted to take you to a beach, maybe in California, to see you in the clear blue waters, to watch the beautiful hues during a sunset.

where he planned to propose to the one person who understood him more than any other person on the planet.

Except none of that would be happening now.

because Edward Munson, the banished, the freak, the alleged murderer, was going to die. That fact started to become blaringly obvious.

You could hear Dustin begging you to say something, the sounds of Eddie's ragged breathing and his mutterings of 'I love you' becoming more shallow as you ignored the feeling of the stream of tears down your face.

Before all sounds from Eddie became nothing.

no sharp inhales of breath, no layered muttering from under his breath, no stupid jokes being said. just straight silence.

Dustin's cries for him turned into panicked wails as he grabbed Eddie by his shoulders, shaking him, hoping he'd wake up and make a goofy face while pretending it was a prank.

But the hollow, expressionless eyes of Eddie Munson stared back at both of you, and the sounds of both yours and Dustin's wails made a few things clear.

Eddie Munson was now dead.

And he died a promise breaker.

yay all done. this lowkey sucked, but i wanted to keep my promise of one post a week to you all. hope you enjoyed and if you have any requests feel free to leave them in the comments or my inbox!

as always please do not steal, copy, translate, or share my work on any other platforms. this work belongs to me, @axen-gers

taglist: none for now!

[axen-gers]

i’m working on an eddie munson fic if anyone’s interested! it’ll be full of angst and like sadness so bring tissues. might even make a part two that leads into the epilogue for the end of season 5. i don’t yet though.

it should be done either late tonight or tomorrow morning!

here’s the link for the fic/blurb i wrote! i have no idea what to write for next week so please give me ideas. or maybe i should do a poll? i don’t know.

don’t break your promise

[axen-gers]

Hi Friends!!

Happy New Year!!

As my resolution this year I am proposing to try and make one new blurb/written tumblr post a week as well as start a new series so feel free to give me any ideas or ask for anything you might want.

Here’s to a new (and hopefully better year)!

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Interlude of Jealous Desires

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader x Tormund Giantsbane

Length: 16.8k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, allusions to past rape, smut, outdoor sex, exhibitionism, jealousy and possessive tendencies, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, anal, f/m/m threesome (no m/m interactions), soft dom/sub dynamics

Notes: Tormund will not become a love interest or a consistent participant in Jon and the Readers relationship, his interest is much more casually physical. Takes place during as of yet unpublished chapters, but there are no actual spoilers for any future plot. Can mostly be read as a one shot, but the story does canonically take place in Heart of the Great Wolf.

It was turning into an obsession. What started as a fleeting jealousy, turned into a strange new desire that grew inside him until it burned bright into a need. But he didn't know why at first. Jon had been jealous before. Jealous about many things but he knew a lot were about you. 

He was jealous of how much time in your previous years in Winterfell you would spend working alongside Theon, when Jons duties were further away. He was jealous how he had to spend time with you entirely alone, just to be able to even hold your hand. Jealous that Robb would always be the one to escort you to feasts or events, because it wasn't appropriate that a bastard walked you arm in arm to your seat. 

But this was new. This kind of jealousy was one he never really had before. Part of him felt it a bit, knowing you were thousands of miles away from him married to Robb, but he didn't have to stand there and watch you two so consistently. Didn't have to see the look in his brothers eyes watching you. But he did have to stand there and see that wanting look shine in a different pair of blue eyes. 

Jon knew if he could, Tormund would've taken you for himself. It was obvious early on and it never really went away. He just respected Jon enough not to do anything about it. He would watch, and wink, and flirt and pull you close with an arm around your shoulder, though it never pushed a line that was too far. 

But it made Jon seethe all the same. 

Maybe once upon a time the insecurity would've hit, but the jealousy wasn't about that anymore. Jon was confident in what you two had now. There was an intensity between he and you that was impossible to tame, and he could rest easy knowing you both wanted each other deeply. But he was jealous that being so open with you came easy. That Tormund wouldn't hesitate to joke and smirk and flirt with you, when Jon thought he was bordering on too bold just kissing you in front of other people.

What started as a jealousy of the ease you had with one of his closest friends, turned to a strange taboo of wanting to fuck you out in the open, so whoever just so happened to walk by, could see what he did to you and now it all led here. Fighting against a possessiveness in his head, he wanted this, but he also hated it. 

Part of him felt guilty, he knew how you would react but Jon also was fairly certain he could gently coax you into it. You put a lot of trust in Jons hands during sex and that wasn't about to change now, but he also knew it sometimes was easier to come at you with a plan already in place instead of simple asking. 

He knew what you had been through, and he knew he Would never overstep what he knew were your limits, especially since you yourself didn't necessarily know those limits if asked. 

You technically were more experienced then Jon now. Once at the same level together, you surpassed him in marriage, as he was well aware Robb had experience. Spent enough time around groups of girls Robb used to be involved with and Jon learned quickly his brother clearly had a healthy drive for women. Then Robb married you and Jon only got hints in visions that you knew more of sex then Jon did. 

By the time you returned to him, the only experience Jon had was..well it was forced on him, and that was the end of him wanting to think about that. 

But you didn't go from just marriage to here, no. Things happened in between and now while you still were more experienced then Jon was, it fell into his responsibility to ensure you were safe the whole time. 

It all led here, Jon approaching a certain figure as he was leaned against the landing overlooking the training yard of Winterfell. Knowing what exact details he had been going over again and again in his head to ensure no room for mistakes would be left. But, perhaps it helped, that he trusted Tormund, and maybe that's why he was the only person in existence Jon would ever go to about this.

He could at the least, trust Tormund wouldn't hurt your mind or body. So, after a week of obsessing over it in the dark of night, Jon came to Tormund's side that afternoon. 

Both men looking out to the yard as Jons eyes naturally found yours, trying to navigate what you were doing around a young one vying for your attention. But you so easily let yourself be distracted by the little one. You did so for many of the younger children of the free folk, you had always been good at that. You spent years on and off, helping raise all of Jons younger siblings, and you once had Shireen too. You were easier going and smiled more with children then adults, and Jon loved that. 

So talking about you in such a filthy way as he watched you pick the little one up into your arms with a playful shout, it made Jon feel like a bit shameful. But as he spoke, arms crossed over his front with a low roughness, the second it was out there he couldn't not follow through to the end. 

“You want her.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Tormund slowly formed almost an amused expression as he and Jon kept their eyes both on the same person. “There a question in there, Snow?” 

But Jon didn't look his way, just at you and how bright your rare smile shined, even from up where he stood. “No. The way you look at her, talk about her, I know you want her.” His jaw clenched somewhat, a bit of, not quite jealousy, but something frustrated pooled out. “Lots of men want her. Hard not to, she's beautiful, smart, knows how to take care of herself.” 

“She's also quiet and sweet which is why you're so fucking sappy about her.” Both men smirked with a bit of a chuckle. No denying such a fact there. “And you're so damn territorial, I don't know why you haven't tried throwing me out of this place. Considering if you never came back, maybe I'd be the one fucking her good at night.” 

They had reached the point Tormund could make such a joke and Jon wouldn't take offence, but he didn't laugh, nor smirk. Instead a darker tint fell into his grey eyes as his face sat more like stone as hesitated before almost hissing it out. “What if I let you?” Tormund finally turning to look more at him but Jon didn't face his way yet. “What if I let you fuck her?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

Inhaling deeply, Jon barley could take his eyes from you. As if he had to be watching you to make sure what he was saying always had your best interest in mind. “You wouldn't be alone with her, I'd be there the whole time.” 

He figured the man could live with that, but he knew he was about to have to find the words to back himself up as Tormund smirked, looking back at you. “Little crow wants to watch another man take his woman, is that it?” 

But Jon said no. Short and almost angry as he inhaled and exhaled deeply to will his heart beat down once more. “At first I was only going to make you watch me fuck her. Knew you wanted her, I'd make you sit in the room and watch me take her apart all night, but you wouldn't be happy just watching.” Jons voice lowering even more as if a true secret, “And neither would I.”

Leaning against the wood railing, Tormund appeared far more casual and aloof then what the subject between the men was about. “Would be cruel making a man just watch.”

The agitations sat deep in his chest, but Jon knew it was something he would have to live with in order to follow through with this. He wanted this only slightly more then he hated the idea of sharing you with him, or anyone. “I'd have rules.” Tormund nodded, and Jon leaned forward to rest his forearms against the railing as the other man currently did. “You break any of them, do anything she doesn't like or want, or hurt her in any way-”

Tormund smirked, “Kill me, stab me, toss me in a dungeon. Got it. Your girl, your rules. What about hers?” Nodding to you, currently blissfully unaware as you stood in the yard chatting with Maege Mormont, one hand constantly moving to entertain the child you held, who almost tried turning getting your attention into a game. 

But Jon knew the way you'd look at him, the way you would cling to him when it was all over and even the moments Jon would take you hard and fast in the middle of the day you always held onto him a little tighter just before returning to the world. His heart sunk more into his chest, you put so much trust in him and Jon took every bit of it more seriously then any other. The worst thing in his mind would be to hurt you in any capacity similar to what you suffered through at Ramsay Boltons hands.

“Whatever she wants. But she won't have any.” Tormund glanced to him with a curiosity but it was much clearer that time around that it wasn't just lust bringing Jon to this idea, he was trusting Tormund with something important. “She'll do whatever she thinks you want. Means I need you to listen to what I say, beacuse she won't be confident enough to say no.” 

The two men stood for a little while going back and forth, finally coming to an agreement, and Jon knew there were a few more details to iron out before they parted ways. “You can't cum inside her.” Tormund did nothing but listen, thankfully as Jon lowly muttered out some of his own hard limits. “You can anywhere on her, or down her throat. But nowhere else. I don't care how close you are, you pull out of her, or I'll kick you out then and there.” 

To his credit, Tormund only smirked. In his own mind, he had no problems with Jons rules but it was amusing to him how stern and aggressive he spat them out with while his eyes were somehow soft while watching you from afar. “Anything else?” 

Exhaling deeply, Jon lowered his tone a bit more. “There's something I need you to do. Tonight.” 

You remembered the early days of your time in Winterfell. Late afternoons turned into evenings where you wanted to be away from people in relative quiet and many times you would end up in the small sept with your back against the wall. Legs sat in front of you as you made your way through whatever book found its way into you hands that time. It was always quiet, and you knew the few who visited would come at specific days and times. Meaning you would always be left in a peaceful quiet. 

It felt a tad ironic at the time. Many of your days on Dragonstone were spent finding new and inventive ways to avoid your septa. Septa Moelle in a way fit right in with the company on the island. A wrinkled face that was sharp as an axe, face always twisted in perpetual disapproval with eyes narrowed in stern suspicion and you suspected she hated you as much as you hated her. 

It was easier at first, you spent half of your lessons with her and half with Maester Cressen, and so it didn't leave her much time to sniff out what she disapproved of. Cressen was always far more kind to you, and understood your more difficult moments. 

He hadn't been a fan of Dragonstone as a place to live but he also had lived many years in Storms End previously. He was the Maester there and helped raise the Baratheon brothers, especially after your grandfather and grandmothers passing. Stannis wasn't as charming or wild as Robert and Renly and it left your father as his favourite, making the older mans fondness for you just as natural. 

When you had returned from Winterfell the first time, he was eager to build on what you had learned there and enjoyed that you were able to open up more now. Septa Moelle, was not. She got along with you far less after that. And every time you came back from Winterfell it got worse. 

She would call you difficult, scold you every time she thought you spoke out of turn, say that the Stark boys were teaching you to act like an animal. She was not unlike your mother in such a way during your more difficult years growing up. 

You had been pressed up against a wall listening to your mother speak to your father over their late supper, about Septa Moelle's complaints that you had not shown up for your embroidery lessons again. “She's a stubborn little beast.” 

Your father was quick as he was dismissive, barley looking to his wife and saying, “She's a child.” 

Shaking her head, your mother had her own exasperated tone. “You barley know her. You think because she smiles and listens the days you have her, that makes her sweet. She's sullen, and stubborn, and sinful. We need to stop sending her North.” 

You had felt the urge in your heart to burst into the room and protest, but you also knew you would only get lectured for spying on their conversation. Your father had yet still to change his dismissive tone. “Lord Stark has been a good influence on her education. And it's the only place our daughter has been able to befriend children her age.” 

Selyse shook her head with a dismissive huff of a doubtful tone. “They are a bad influence, nothing more. She shouldn't be spending so much time around boys at this age. It should worry you as well.” Your father asking what specifically should worry him, and you recalled at the time not having a clue what they were talking about. “How old will those boys be soon? Thirteen? Fourteen? Do you really wish for our daughter to spend so much of her young years around these Northern boys verging on men? Septa Moelle already has expressed that it might be prudent to start ensuring her maidenhood is in tact when she returns-”

Your father clearly grew impatient, voice raising. Not to anything close to a yell, but on a man quiet like him, the slight raise was with enough of a tone that it may as well echoed throughout the entire island. “Do you think Eddard Stark is a man raising his sons to violate a young girl, a ward, that we have repeatedly trusted in his care?” Your mother didn't say anything, but you could imagine she was tilting her head with a flatly expressed plead for him to listen to her, which he didn't. “I will not have her septa checking to ensure she is innocent just because you two disapprove of their company. Her attitude is one thing, Selyse. But it is another to say that they've done anything to her. She's more likely to be influenced negatively just being around Allard then she is the Stark boys.” 

That almost made you laugh. Allard was once Stannis's squire, and now was part of your household guard, normally assigned to watch you. He was rash and vocal about deeds you would listen to in as much shock as entertainment. He, each time you sailed North, had been there to accompany you. Telling you of the girlfriends he had in Oldtown, Kings Landing and Bravvos. He would laugh at your shocked expression and jest that were he and his father to have remained smugglers, his father said he'd likely have one day ended up sentenced to the Wall. “Now that's a worse punishment then I could ever imagine, tiny doe.” 

You had asked why and he didn't elaborate. Later when you had brought it up to Maester Cressen, he had laughed himself as he promoted you to continue the lesson he had you writing out. “If you don't know what that means, then I think we can assure Lady Selyse that the Stark boys are nowhere near as a threat as she worries.” He had then told you men of the Nights Watch would take no wives and father no children which is what Allard was referring too, and he almost laughed more at how you almost were more confused. 

“Why would he be thinking about girls like that when at the Wall? He would have more important things to think about.” 

Cressen rose an eyebrow at you, knowing it would pass you by. “If memories of what Robert was like growing up tell me anything, girls would be the only thing that boy would be thinking about.” 

But then you were older, hiding away for quiet in a little sept. Lighting a candle before The Maiden with the thought that if you were going to be here anyways, you may as well be honest about which of the gods would have issue with your actions most. 

It was different now, though. You felt no call to the sept, nor Seven. Especially not in the snows of winter. Now you would some days find yourself in the godswood by the Weirwood. You did not have obligations to the old gods in your words, prayers, or even actions as if always to be guilty. You could stand amongst them, and know they understood you were doing your best. Wondering who could see you here, what they were trying to say as the cold winds blew through your hair. 

Only, the ones which could see you were not quite that of the gods you thought you were speaking too,  and not knowing more then one pair of eyes was watching. 

“Hiding from me are you?” Your head turning quickly to the side only to relax at the sight of Jon approaching. You couldn't help but wonder how he wasn't cold. Not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should, but somehow still managing to look cozier then yourself. Stepping back, your eyes glanced up to the red of the leaves before looking back to the snow and night. 

A small half smirk creeping it's way on to your features. “Actually, I was thinking about what a bad influence you have been on me.” Jons head tilting back in amused question as he repeats you, a smirk forcing itself off your face to remain impassive as you turn to face him. “If I recall I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.” 

His eyes narrowed a little, arms crossing over his chest. “And how did I do that, exactly? Remind me.” 

Just as he came a little too close, you sensed his ploy, and twisted and ducking under where he moved quick to grab you. Flipping around to face him with your eyebrows raised. “Such a brute, grabbing at innocent girls in the woods at night.” 

Jon only rolled his eyes trying to smother a great smirk, before this time catching your arm as you moved from his grasp. Just as he did once before, Jon took little strength to move you. Tossing your back right into the Weirwood tree behind you. Both of his own gloved hands pressing against the bark beside your head as he leaned himself in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eye almost ready to laugh more then it was lustful. “Maybe you have a point.” 

Your laugh almost caught him off guard, letting a hand slip down to run gently along your waist while the other toyed with your hair at the side of your head. Your own hands innocently finding his own waist as you leaned back a little bit more relaxed. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to Winterfell, and what does this strong, Northern boy do? Shove her against a tree because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words. I was never the same after that.” 

His voice low, more of a muttering husk as he glanced to your lips and up. “No, but you are more fun this way.” Your expression falling flat, and it became Jons turn to laugh. 

Trying not to grin nor melt at how little you felt you got to hear it, and how much his laugh and smile made him impossibly handsome. “No, I get it. The charmless, rigid, bore of a Baratheon girl had to be shown how to open up by brute force.” 

Leaning more into you, Jons breath could be felt dancing across you cheek as he moved towards your neck. “That boring Baratheon girl sure responded eagerly for someone who now says she didn't want to be kissed.” A breathy laughed shared between you as it melted away in you, feeling in place a shiver taking home up your spine as he so gently trailed his lips along your neck to up just below your ear. Pressing a tender kiss there before holding your waist tighter, free hand moving your hair from in his way. 

The exhale leaving you was shaking, Jon once more teasing you with light presses of his lips along your neck again. Both hands smoothing up and down your waist as he did so. For only a moment did your hands find their way up his chest before you tried pulling back. Glancing around with more of a flustered whisper. “Jon, you remember where we are right?” All he did was hum though, never letting his kiss do anything but tease against you right over where he knew your neck was sensitive. “You want to do this in the godswood?”

You felt the smirk, not even needing to see his face. Your hands against your better judgment drifting up and already tangling themselves in his curls. “These aren't your gods with all those rules, darling. The old gods don't care what a man and his girl do with each other out here.” 

Head tilting with a sigh, giving him more room. As his lips were gentle and soft, his facial hair scratched at your neck that he knew was the reason your breathing picked up. Another whisper as you tried to hold onto something sensible, “Anyone could come out here and see us,” 

If you thought that would do the trick, you were entirely wrong. Moving his hands to your hips, Jon all but growled into your neck, “Good.” Before shoving you roughly, your back flat against the tree as he pressed himself tight against you, teeth biting down. Keeping you flat and still as his teeth bared. Biting up and down without even giving you a light brush of his lips or tongue to sooth the pain, just marking your skin until it turned colour for him. 

His hips pushing into yours as much as he could, and you hadn't the mind to realize he was wearing far less and far easier layers to feel his cock pressing hard against you through. Doing so on purpose, knowing how easily you worked him up, could fluster you when he was bold about showing it. 

Your voice caught in your throat, trying to hold back whatever deep sound of need was brewing inside of you but your neck burned with how rough he was treating it. Everyone was going to see it come tomorrow morning you knew, but moving to your jaw, Jon gave the same rough scrape of his teeth before meeting your lips. 

Capturing the sound in his own mouth, Jon kissed you deeply. Every breathe from you now poured into his mouth as you clung tightly with your hands in his hair. The feeling of him running up and down your dress before Jon just started to pull the material. The cold hitting your legs drastically, but the whimper only made Jon grow greedy. Hand it all over to him, his demanding kiss spoke. 

Pulling only far enough from your lips did Jon raise one hand up, biting the end of his glove before roughly pulling it off. You didn't even see where it ended up, Jon using that now free hand to grasp your jaw and tilt your head up to once more capture your lips. His were always so soft but he guided you with such a command that you surrendered to him. 

Letting your lips part open the second his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and a needy moan gracing him as he slid his tongue in your mouth to brush against yours. His other hand, still gloved rose up to grasp the side of your face, holding you to him as he ground his hardening covered cock into you at how much you gave yourself over with ease. 

Your nails scratched at his scalp, something almost like a grunt vibrated deep in his chest, moving his uncovered hand back down to where he had yanked the skirt of your dress up, trying to will himself to part from your lips but always pushing you back for more the second he pulled away. Hand moving to the back of your neck, Jon barley tore from your lips, rasping deep against them as the slight trails of saliva still connected. Tempting him right back with each mutter. “You remember the first time I touched you?” 

Your head felt light, floating a bit as you nodded. One of your hands returning the gesture and scratching slightly along the back of his neck, voice hardly a whisper. “In the wolfswood..” 

Nodding, Jon bit your bottom lip, a hiss leaving him as he switched from a kiss to his teeth leaving your lip tingling as he slunk his hand over the thin fabric hiding you. “You have no idea what was running through my head, hearing you've never came before, knowing I touched you even before you did.” Another bite as he brushed his tongue against yours, fighting between a kiss and rambling deep against them. “Almost felt guilty, thought about you every night, trying to imagine what you'd feel like around my cock, knowing it wasn't even close. Only to have you tell me you've never touched yourself as if I wasn't going to lose my mind over it.” 

His fingers ran across the material, already feeling it was damp but increased the pressure anyways against you. Another sound deep in his chest as he held your forehead against his as his own breathing picked up. Voice still rambling, and you knew from how deep and almost mumbling it was, he could barley control what he was saying. “Gasping for me the second I did this,” his fingers slid under the fabric and brushed with purpose over your clit. Rubbing tightly against it, but this time unlike years ago as he recalled, Jon new exactly how to dangle you off that sweet edge right into painful and desperate  for him. “You wanna know what it was I really wanted to do? What I was thinking about while touching my beautiful, innocent girl for the first time?” 

You nodded, and Jon said nothing, skipping right to showing you.

Breath catching in your lungs, your back arched pushing your front right into Jon as he crowded you more. Two thick fingers sinking deep inside you, sliding right to the knuckle as you clenched around them already. His jaw clenched, breathing harsh through his nose as he watched your mouth drop open. As if nothing ever prepared you for when any part of him was inside you, you were tight but soaking around them. Sliding rough along a sensitive wall as he pulled them almost all the way out and sliding right back as deep as you could let him. 

The hand on the back of your neck turned you up again so Jon could watch your face, a slow but steady pace as his fingers moved inside of you. Your hands almost dropping instinctively to his shoulders but you knew he wouldn't let you hide there. It was almost humiliating how much Jon loved making you look deep into his eyes when some part of him was inside you. He didn't do it for that, but his insistent intensity over it always was too much for you. 

The coil inside your core spun and twisted as he sparked such burning pleasure inside you, your lips grasping at anything to say only to have something equally as humiliating come out instead, your hands grasping at whatever you could of him as you did so. “I never-” Your face almost twisting as the sting of a third finger joining interrupted you. But Jon ran his hand over the hair at the back of your head now gently, trying to prompt you. 

His voice was too low and sweet for how steadily his fingers fucked up into you. “You never what, darling? Be honest with me, it's alright.” 

You might have regretted saying it later, but you gasped it out in needy moans trying to follow along with it. “I never touched myself when I was with you.” His brows narrowed slightly as your hips almost grinded into his fingers with a strained gasp. “I wanted, gods, I wanted to do everything with you..wanted..wanted to give you everything..if, if I touched myself I'd be keeping all that from you and I didn't want that.” 

Fingers thick and as deep as they could to the knuckle, Jon leaned back to make you look at him with a slight almost shocked expression. “You never had an orgasm that I didn't give you?” When you nodded, Jon swore deep under his breath before roughly capturing your lips with his. 

Both of you knew that wasn't counting your time with Robb. But Jon never gave that any thought, the fact that during his most insecure years you trusted every single aspect of your pleasure only with him made his head spin. Thinking that maybe he really did ruin you, but that only made him desperate to do it even more. His thumb rubbing at your clit in right circles before giving up and letting the heel of his palm just grind roughly against you as his fingers ran along your walls. 

Jon knew he should've slowed down, but then he finally sensed it. Felt that feeling of being watched, and he knew exactly why. That growing urge to show you off, to prove how perfect you were for him with pride. Pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, he felt you clench around him only to pull out of you the second he realized you were seconds from falling over that edge. 

Lips parting from yours, you watched his eyes so dark they were of black ink as they looked over you blown wide open. Your voice was small as the sting from losing it so close had you feel strained. “Jon, please..”

Shaking his head, Jon moved both hands under the skirt of your dress. Grasping the edges of your underwear he pulled them down. Kneeling slightly to pull them off one foot at a time. Looking up at your heaving chest, his fist tight around the material before he shoved them away on his person without a single intention of giving them back as he stood up.

Your hands moved, trying to undo things to pull him out but Jons hands were faster, and rougher then yours. Looking up to your eyes, he didn't even blink as he did so. Your hands laid useless on his waist, digging into the leather as your heart raced and screamed at you. Running them up to cup both of his cheeks, Jon finally moved, all but kicking your legs apart as he ran the tip of his cock along your soaked core. 

Still one hand on himself, Jon used the other to yank up your leg to rest at his hip. His palm sliding down  to force the material of your dress to pool against you, exposing your actions to that side of the world. Pushing his tip into your clit you whined just as he sealed his eyes shut with a hiss. Holding a groan he swallowed it down to his chest before ensuring you were looking at him. 

Letting it slid back down he just barley sat at your entrance, one tiny slip and he could inch inside of you but his eyes were too soft for that yet. “Tell me you still belong to me,” Your brows narrowed in confusion, but Jons head tilted slightly almost pleading you to be honest. “I belong to you, but tell me you'll always belong to me, no matter what,”

You felt confused but nodded, “I belong to you Jon, I always will belong to you, I love you.” 

Jons face twisted, almost as if conflicted with something before deciding on a path. Sliding his cock slowly but deeply inside of you. The burn from the stretch of his cock was more then his fingers and you shook in his very touch. Sliding just as deep you gasped as you leaned this time into him and he let you for a moment. 

Only a few times did Jon steadily slide almost out of you before coming right back. Your core right back to twisting only this time it was harsh and breath stealing. Hands grasping his shoulders and part of his neck you looked up at him, his mouth parted in need before he grabbed your other leg, not letting himself leave your warmth, Jon picked you up properly. 

Shoving you back into the bark of the Weirwood did Jon barley let himself leave before thrusting hard back inside of you. His cock dragging along that same sensitive wall but now with a roughness that were there nothing in his way, would have loudly slapped and echoed in the empty, cold night. You clenched around him tightly, your heart pounding in your chest as you begged his name. 

Almost having to gasp for air, Jon captured your lips again. His cock not pounding very fast, but hard and rough. Rough enough you felt yourself cry out at particularly painful ones that Jon didn't even realize bordered on too much, but you knew you were utterly soaking his cock each time wanting exactly that pain. Since connecting your lips, Jon didn't let you leave. Leaning into you the second it felt as if you were to pull away for air. 

Fucking up into you again and again, Jon growled in his chest, almost snarling into your mouth the harder he pounded. Chasing something deep inside of you, as you clung and arched into him with nothing to support you behind the clawing inside your core to snap. A burning despite the snow and cold air around, nothing leaving you that wasn't whines in his kiss. 

You both knew it wasn't going to last. But, what you didn't know, was that Jon had other ideas for you that would more then make up for it. Pushing tightly against you, Jon sunk his cock deep as he thrusted only to slide his tongue back into your mouth just as he did so. One hand on your thigh now free to hold the back of your neck, keeping your lips fused to his. 

So close, you soaked around his cock only for Jon to groan your name against your lips. His cock so deep and so rough this time around that as your hands tangled themselves up in his hair, you were begging his name something you weren't even sure you understood. A cry that had to trust whatever he gave you, and all Jon gave you was nothing that was yours.

Pushing you more into the tree, Jon tried to push your free leg more so it widened you to him. His hips pounding rough into yours and only increased in how much it both felt good and was a painful feeling that only Jon could make you desire again and again. 

Muttering against your lips, “Don't come, don't you dare come, darling. I'll make you feel better, I promise. But right now, you need to trust me and not come.” Your head hid in his shoulder, nodding obediently as it almost made you tear up how much effort it took to hold back.

Your name groaned from his lips freely, just as you felt his cock deep inside you throbbing before as deep as he could go, finally came. His cum always was quite warm, but compared to the cold around your skin it felt almost hot in comparison. A deliciously thick never ending sea of his seed pouring deep inside of you as Jon moved you to look you in the eyes. 

A thought coming to his head almost came out of his mouth, but it wasn't the time. Not when he was being watched, not even for what this was this time. Holding it back as Jon once more bit and greedily guided your lips as he came and came deep inside. Nothing would leak out with how much was going deep in you, your whine against his lips as he shook. 

It felt like minutes passed before Jons seed had finished spilling inside of you. Panting heavily against your lips did Jon pull back to look you over, your voice needy as you leaned your forehead against his own. His hands a little less tight but you felt the bruises no doubt already there. A whisper only he could hear. “I love you so much,” 

Lust mixing with the raw feeling of your genuine innocence, Jon hadn't left your warmth yet but wrapped his arms around you. Coming up to pull your head into his neck as he did your hair, smoothing over and over again along it. His voice rasping in your ear, “And I love you, so much, so so much.” 

It took him a good few minutes to convince himself to pull out of you. Forcing himself to remember that he didn't let you cum for a reason, when he could stand there and want to let his cock pound fast until you soaked him so much there was no hiding it. But as you gently helped put his clothes back into place, Jon held both of your cheeks and let another kiss go to your lips and then forehead. 

Your hands around his waist keeping him close to you. “Why am I not allowed to cum?” 

But his answer, almost would've made you laugh were you not so overwhelmed with how much of Jons cum spilled inside, how much of it was there. How you could feel how warm and thick it was, and how he was so deep, it barley left any trace on your upper thighs as he left your core bare under your clothes. Jons answer though, was rasping and low no room for questioning despite his gentle touch. “Beacuse your King said so.” 

You let a breathy laugh escape, and as Jon started to chuckle as well, he nudged your nose with his before a gentle kiss was back on your lips. Eventually, Jon would convince himself to guide you back into the castle. But for now, as you nuzzled into his neck, Jon looked back to the watching eyes he could not see. 

Jon would take you once more in his room, spreading you bare across the fur to taste you before the fire, still refusing every orgasm for you, and yet he still wasn't satisfied. And he wouldn't be until this happened, and despite all the rules, all of the back and forth and the possessive nature inside him? Jon couldn't stop thinking about what he had planned for you the very next night. 

He knew Tormund had watched, and now Jon would ensure the only other person he'd trust with you, got their fill of you. In a very literal sense of such a word at that. 

You had been trying to figure out what had him on edge all day. Nothing seemed to stand out, and no one else acted as if anything was wrong or out of place, yet Jon spent most of the day a bit on the short side with people. Taking more time then normal to hover over you to the point you had spoken without looking, when your eyes had been on the papers in front of you for too long. “Can I help you with something, your grace?” 

Only then did you glance up, something sat on the edge of Jon's tongue but he just shook his head. A hand pulling you somewhat close to press a kiss to your forehead as he passed you by and left. Almost huffing out a laugh, you had returned to the task in front of you and thought little more of it for the time being. Theon had given him a glance as he left, turning to you somewhat amused, “What's wrong with him?”

You had returned to looking over your task at hand, but that time you did smirk with a chuckle. “Rest assured, there is always something wrong going on inside Jon Snow's head. Best not worry too much about it, or you'll drive yourself up the wall.” Tossing him the stack in front of you suddenly you nodded to them. “Now help me sort through all of this before it drives me up the wall, myself.” 

When you had come upon him yourself, it was growing late into the day as the sun had long since set far enough the sky was mostly dim save for the horizon. Almost amused how the tides had turned, him sat in his study with his elbow propped on the table so he could rest his forehead in his hand. You could see a deep, twisting in his expression even from where you stood behind him. Maybe you'd have surprised him were Ghost not to perk up with bright eyes the moment you gently slunk into the room. 

Turning to see what caught the direwolf's attention, Jon had a much softer smile fall over his face then he had any right directing towards you. Reaching one hand out, you returned the gesture. Letting Jon guide you to rest on his lap, you sitting to the side now with your hands gently along his chest and collarbones, his keeping you steady by your waist. “You've been in a strange mood all day.” 

Jon hummed low in his throat, grey eyes soft as he let them trail what appeared to be in an innocent manner along what he could see of you. “Have I?” 

A small nod of your head, you leaned forward with a hand cupping his cheek. Meeting him half way to gently press your lips to his only for a moment, before muttering against them. “I know you have a lot on your shoulders, I just want to know what I can do to help.” You knew Jon had been keeping some of the more difficult parts of ruling from you, trying to give you easier things to focus on, or tasks that he knew you would enjoy rather then feel frustrated with. But now it meant you were watching his shoulders tense, and his mood struggle. 

Running his hand up to rake through your hair, he barley shook his head. “You are helping. You take care of the little things so I have the time to deal with the difficult ones.” 

A smile forming on his face as you sighed flatly. “We can share both of those burdens equally, you know.  Otherwise, I'm just going to assume that you like being somewhat miserable all the time.” Your face twisted, trying to keep a playful smile from it as Jon let his other hand at your waist pinch you. Giving hardly anything of a small shove to his chest before he left your hair to trap your hand against him. 

His eyes too easy to melt into as was his voice rasping and alluring. “And you worry too much about everything. I prefer you like this, relaxed at the end of the night instead of worked up.” Your shoulders dropped a bit as you let your other hand toy with the curls loose and long. Finding his eyes, yours were narrowed only slightly as they shined with a small ask to listen, but he didn't. “You've done enough, I want you to let other people do things for you sometimes.” 

Sighing out, you shook your head with a tired disapproval that you both knew wasn't serious. “And what about you?” His head tilted somewhat to the side, and yet the tenderness in his eyes grew as the frown growing on yours was much more genuine as you looked at him. “Doesn't feel right, letting you do all the heavy lifting. If those people out there are going to insist on still calling me Queen, then I need to be doing more then just stand beside you. I need to help you. I want to help you, Jon.” 

Jon watched you carefully, his face soft but fallen a bit into something harsher as he looked over the seriousness in which you spoke. “You fought and died for these people. That's enough. Spent your whole life doing things for other people, but I don't want that. I'm happy doing all this, long as I know your relaxed.” 

It was barley a smirk or even a lightness but you were close enough Jon caught both. “Not doing a very good job then, are you?” Rolling his eyes, Jon sighed and grabbed your hips to lift you up off of him, onto your own two feet. 

Pulling you into his side with an arm around your waist, Jon guided you out into the halls of the evening castle. “You're difficult, I'll give you that.” Your face twisting as you commented that you weren't sure if he was insulting you or not, the look on Jons face only added to the playful offence. “I'd never insult you. Only tease you.” 

Muttering under your breath with a shake of your head, “Relentless teasing, you mean.” 

Just as Jon had reached the outside of his chambers, he suddenly turned to you. Moving you by the hips against his closed door with a small thud, crowding you with a playful raise on an eyebrow to accompany the bemused smirk. “We both know this is nothing compared to what I could be doing to you. And maybe,” One hand moved to tilt your chin up gently to meet his eyes as he leaned in. “I have far better ways of making you nice and relaxed for me then I've led on.” 

Your hands trailed along his chest resting down more across the leathers on his stomach. “And what does that include precisely, Snow? Going to take a miracle to accomplish that with me of all people.” 

Reaching behind you, Jon opened the door before wrapping an arm behind your back to keep you steady. Yourself not realizing, he also did it, so you would not be able to turn around and see what his plan was before he could properly guide you into it. Slowly stepping inside, Jon only leaned his arm back to slam the door shut with a loud bang. Not wasting time after to run his hands along your shoulders before slipping your cloak off, tossing it off to the side of nowhere. 

Your hands now keeping steady on his waist as he looked down at you with a darkness creeping up and fast that matched the deep rasp of his voice as he held you tight to him by your hips. “Won't take a miracle, just doubling the amount of work it already takes to make you beg for me.” 

Lungs hitching the air flowing through you as Jon eyed you up and down, his grip feeling more like need then it did entirely intentional. But Jon wanted you just the right amount of worked up before he let this night happen. The other pair of eyes was willing at the very least for Jon to do so first. 

Not given much of a chance to respond, Jon trailed his hands up to the middle of your dress, hands hovering right at the small string of clasps that kept it together. Normally he would wait for you to nod before undoing them, but this time Jon only stood silent with his eyes never leaving yours as he unclasped them. Leaving your front open as only the thin, dark shift underneath would remain were he to shove the rest of it all on the ground. 

For now though, he seemed to have left it. Looking down at you, one hand now running along your neck gently, down the middle of your throat as he exhaled deeply through his nose at how you almost nervously swallowed at the sensation. “There's something you should know,” Your eyes flashing in an innocent concern, making Jon feel all the more like a lecher. “Last night, you were worried someone might see us out in the godswood?” 

You nodded, but the tensing in his arms was soothed as Jon traced a hand along your still covered breast while the other tilted your chin to look at him. His fingers tracing around the small bud before he could feel your nipple through the fabric. Not slipping his hand in to touch you, but never quite letting his thumb leave it as he watched your breathing pick up again, your eyes fluttering as you tried to focus. 

“Did someone..” Jon only nodded, stepping a big closer turning your head up better to look at him as he did so, running his other thumb in tandem over what he could reach of your throat. “Who?” You felt the nerves in your blood rising as it conflicted with the sparks of pleasure lighting a fire between your veins. 

For a split second, Jon glanced behind you with a sharper narrowed look and just as you thought you saw him nod he grasped your breast more roughly and pulling a light gasp from you. But one that was far surpassed by the feeling which followed. The loose fabric of the remainder of your dress was pulled from your body and tossed behind you as a low voice rumbled close to your ear. “Fucking cruel not letting a woman cum twice in a row.” 

Jon clearly expected the reaction, as soon as your heart raced in your chest you gasped loudly, turning around only to have Jon pull your back tight against his chest, one hand on your hip the other draped across your stomach to keep you against him as your hands grasped his forearm almost in defence. 

Many blue eyes haunted you now. Deep bright ones which were nothing but memories of sorrow, pale ones that some days you still felt as if right in front of you, and shining unnatural glowing ones like crystal that were coming for you all. But these ones, never were in the realm of intimidating until right now. 

Tormund was said to have the name of Giantsbane and whatever came about to give him that, could've easily come from his stature alone. He was as tall as he was broad and the aura which followed him was that of a man larger then life, but never before did you feel so small in comparison. His eyes ran down you as freely as they ever had, and he spared no care in hiding it in front of Jon. 

His chuckle was deep in tone as he nodded up to Jon behind you, “That why you're always so on edge, pretty crow? Whats the longest he's not let you cum?” 

The fact that Jon hadn't said a word made you feel even more nervous, but as your mouth stammered for any answer and finding none, Jon squeezed your hip. His voice was low, quite low and felt much more rough and controlled then before. “You can tell him.” 

Breathing it out as if one word, it only made Tormund smirk a he stepped closer. “A week..” 

Glancing behind you, he raised an eyebrow with a deep, knowing accusation. “You keep her like this for a week, Snow? Don't know how she hasn't come running to me already, woman like her should be getting more then she can handle.” 

The arm across your stomach pulled you a tad closer, the feeling of Jons hardening, covered cock suddenly pressing into your ass with no shame as Jon grasped the edge of you dark shift, raising it up just slightly too indecent in other company, so Tormunds greedy eyes could look all he wanted. His voice though, wasn't directed at you. “You saw her last night, the way she clung to me when I filled her, imagine how good that feels when she cums around you after a week of denying her.” 

It was the way they spoke to the other about you, Jons hands so greedily all over you and Tormunds eyes seeking the rest, but then they stood there speaking about you as if you weren't even there that made you feel dizzy, but in that moment of quiet did Jon lean his mouth to your ear. “Do you want him too?” 

Something inside you was a mixture of difficult to ascertain feelings. Part of you felt utterly humiliated, nothing was even showing but in just a shift you felt completely exposed in front of Tormund, but you also felt nervous and intimidated the ease in which he was standing in the room getting whatever eyeful he was enjoying. But then again, that rushing of blood between your legs hadn't left even though you thought it should have. 

You didn't answer though, eyes wide and mouth agape as your chest clearly heaved along your heavy breaths, and Jon pulled you back to press your ass into his cock more. “It's alright, we're not trying to force you into anything. Just want you to be honest.” Your voice breathlessly asked about what, and Jon kept you in place as Tormund now stood close enough you could feel his own degree of warmth as he stood tall over you. “Do you remember what I told you about him? That thing you thought I was lying about?” 

Mouth moving to answer, Tormunds large hand tilted you to look up at him. His light blue eyes deep and so blatantly wanting as he rumbled low, “Speak up now.” 

Swallowing nervously, you felt still confused, not quite sure what was going on even though both men were so obviously on the same page. “He, he said if you had the chance..you'd-” Jon squeezed your hip and Tormund leaned down just the slightest as his touch had let to leave. “That you'd take the opportunity to be inside me if you could.” That certainly was a bit more formally stated then what came rambling out of Jons mouth that night, but it was the broad strokes at the least. “But he wasn't..it was only a..”

Knowing you were trying to grasp at your words to claim it to be a joke or an exaggeration, Jon stood firm behind you, letting Tormund run his hand along your jaw and neck with an almost smug shine in his eyes. “Your crow's telling the truth, been wondering how good you'd feel around my cock a long time. Would've taken you for myself all the way back in Castle Black, if he didn't come back first.” 

Just as Tormund moved to reach for the thin straps of your shift, did Jon from behind you glare something mighty, making the man stop mid movement. Almost challenging the other to keep going before Jon rasped out, “She hasn't said yes.” 

Tilting his head down to look over you, Tormund had a knowing in his eyes that you felt as if could see right through the little covering you had left and could see how conflicted the wetness forming between your legs left you, and he knew it wasn't Jons touch alone doing it. “I know want when I see it, Snow.”

But Jon this time, didn't do it to tease. Instead his hands moved to your waist and tugged you back almost half a foot as Jon did. His voice bordering on something dark. “I don't care what you think you see, she says yes or it all stops here.” 

As you quietly muttered, “Jon?” His head turned to look at you more over your shoulder as he realized with a bit of guilt, that you weren't grasping what was going on as well as he thought you would. He could tell you felt embarrassed and turned on to a degree but his heart fell heavy as Jon looked at your innocent confusion meeting the others eyes. “I don't..I don't understand..you want him to...” 

Sighing deeply to himself, on glanced up at Tormund a silent ask to give him a moment. Turning you in his arms to face him, he held you one hand on your upper arm, as it reached up to rest against his stomach, his other cupping your cheek as he spoke much more tender then before. “I just want you to feel good, darling. And I really think letting me and Tormund be with you tonight will feel good, he wants you, and tonight I want you to want him.” 

There were the nerves Jon suspected, flickering eyes to nothing before landing on his chest as you tried to not fumble through your words. “But I love-” 

Running his thumb along the skin of your cheek, Jon leaned down so your eyes met at the same level. “I love you, and you love me, I know you do. But it's okay to want things you don't expect. You're not doing anything wrong by wanting this. I'll be here this whole time, I'm not leaving you alone. I'm here to make you feel good just as much as he is.” 

Your head dropped in thought, Jon gently turning you again to face Tormund who at least looked a little less intimidating as he stepped close to you. He was warned you would be incredibly nervous before you said yes to it, but instead of being off putting as he thought, Tormund found himself rather enjoying seeing you so out of your element, between the two men. “Snow's trusting me with you, and that don't come easy, pretty crow. He's fucking possessive, but he trusts that I'll treat you right. You just have to let me.” 

Looking up at Tormund, you felt his large hand trailing up your thigh and hip and back. Toying with the edge of your shift as you glanced back to Jon. “Are you sure-” Letting a hand grasp at your jaw, Jon leaned over your shoulder as he tilted your head enough to capture your lips with his. 

Cupping the side of your cheek firmly, Jon coaxed you to follow his lips until you relaxed in his touch, him pressing one more kiss before nudging your nose with his. “I was the one who asked him for this. I wanted him to be here, Tormunds the only one I trust to touch you, even just for tonight. But you have to say yes, or it ends here. Either he stays, or he leaves, and I'll take care of you myself.” 

Turning you then to look up at the much more wild man, Tormund was allowed the space finally to grasp at your hip. Leaving only Jons other hand at your waist on the other side, being what kept him to you. “Believe me, pretty crow. I have plenty of ways to take care of you.” 

It was maybe out of nerves, but you knew him leaving this room now felt like the wrong option, so you nodded. Jon mumbling in your ear that he needs you to say it out loud, so you looked more confidently up to Tormund. “Okay, I want this..I..” Turning to partially see Jon in the side of your vision, “What am I allowed or not allowed to do?” 

Jons chuckle was dark, and so was Tormunds as both men now moved to keep you in the middle of them. Jon tilted your head by your jaw back to face the taller one with a whisper in your ear. “Do whatever feels right, he knows what he's not allowed to do.” A hesitant expression still looking up at the taller man, Jon finally gave you an easy prompt. “How about you start with a kiss. Show Tormund how sweet tasting your lips are. I'll be right here.” 

But right here, meant in the room. As Jon gave you a tiny push, you realize he had you leave his touch entirely, only to be grabbed by the hips by Tormund and pulled into his front. Initially your hands found their way on the wrists grabbing you, but slowly you looked up to his face. Willing yourself to calm down enough, and that maybe if you just followed Jons first instruction it would get easier. 

Which was exactly what Jon wanted. He knew part of him would hate this, and already he did, but another part of him desperately wanted you to enjoy Tormund tonight, needed you to feel good when both of them were touching you. Sharing you made him feel angry and possessive, but there was little that didn't make Jon feel that way towards you anymore. This was a step. He needed to work through this angry possessiveness before it frightened you away. 

Slowly, you let your hands drift up to Tormunds chest. The moment you even slightly leaned up, Tormund happily took the reins from you. One hand moving up to your jaw as he pulled you up as he met your lips halfway. 

Your nerves running ragged, his kiss was rough and aggressive. Keeping you dangling off an edge of out of control but never letting you fall. Kissing Tormund was entirely different from the only other three people who ever had to you. Something wild and overpowering as he kept you by your jaw and neck right up against him, distracting long enough to run his hands along your shoulders and shove the thin straps of your shift partially down your arms. 

Pulling away, Tormunds own breathing picked up as did the darker glint in his eye as he nodded to your hands on him. Pulling them away for a moment, Tormund let them free the fabric as he yanked the rest of the material off of you. Left in no clothes did he very freely stand back to look much easier all over you with something that you couldn't decide made you excited or nervous. 

It was a strange feeling actually, realizing that none of what was under mattered to him. Tormund knew about the scar, and the rest of the marks along you, most from Ramsay didn't even phase him as he pulled you right back to him. One hand rough as it grasped at one of your ass cheeks, digging his finger tips into it as he kissed you, only to move with the same ferocity down your neck to match the bruises and teeth marks Jon left the night before on the other side. 

Grasping at his shoulders, you unknowingly arched into the touch, a stuttering gasp leaving you as he pulled you closer, your hips to his with the hand still grasping your ass. The foreign feeling of who was doing it, the scratching of his beard and overbearing size you felt as if you'd be powerless against him. 

From where you were kept, you couldn't see where Jon was or even hear and it made your heart race nervously. You weren't sure what fear made you more uncomfortable. If he really had just left you with Tormund all alone, or if just didn't want to touch you while someone else was. You didn't want that to be the night.

It was like he could sense you though, realizing in an instant Jon had yanked you from Tormunds greedy hold. A soothing feeling as you felt his chest bare as you were. Turning you in his arms, he grasped both of your cheeks as he muttered angrily, “I'm not leaving you,” His lips biting and harsh as he kissed you, the much more familiar sensation easing the tension in your chest as he coaxed you to let him control the kiss. Hardly pulling from you as he mumbled, “We're both going to be inside you, don't you worry,” 

You were trying to interject, wanting to ask what he meant but Jon did not allow you the air. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck into his curls while one of his own wrapped around your waist and back, pulling you into him. His lips stealing your breathe and leaving you lightheaded as he didn't stop. 

Trailing down the side of you neck he left marks on the night before, you gasped and jumped as he followed the exact same trajectory that left your neck so marked in the first place. The sting and burn mixing deeply with how much you arched into his touch. Nails scratching along his scalp and running the other down his chest. For once, his scars felt comforting. They were something you knew. 

Moving up to your ear, his voice was a strained husk, “Let him touch you, darling. He's always wanted to.” Moving so you turned around to where the bed was, that time you almost didn't contain the whine before it left your mouth. Pressing a kiss just below your ear, Jon ran his hands up and down your waist. 

“Maybe she's just impressed for once, Snow.” 

Jons hands tightened in something you sensed was much more possessive then he wanted to lead on, but he nudged you over to the now much more bare Tormund. By bare, you meant completely. Tall and large, giant was the right word for it and you felt yourself purposely trying not to stare but it only made the man laugh. 

Tormund closed the gap, grasping you by the front of your neck and pulling you up for another kiss as he in what felt like what would be much of the night, yanking you from Jon. “If you say sorry for staring, that's going to hurt a mans ego.” This time Tormund felt much more ready to continue, turning you to the bed and effortlessly picking you up by the hips to prompt you onto it. Half chucking you into the middle as he climbed over top you, eyes looking between your legs as they parted naturally. 

Without sparing any time, Tormund kneeled between your legs and spread them wider without a seconds thought before leaning a bit more over you as his hand cupped all of you. Shaking his head as he glanced to the side, “Wonder who all this is for more, your little crow?” Shifting his touch so that Tormund could sink a finger knuckle deep into your cunt, a gasp clawing from your mouth as your head leaned back against the soft fur, already clenching around at the suddenness of him. “Or the one actually touching you?” 

Voice failing you, one of your hands grasped at the fur beside you, as Tormund started steadily moving inside you before letting a second slip beside the first and sinking deep once more. Your other hand reached up as if needing something to hold onto more, only to have your lungs work again as a familiar hand grasped it. Interlocking your fingers with his, Jon had sat down on the bed now leaning across so he could keep a hand on you. 

His other tilting your head to the side where his lips hovered over yours as you stuttered out quiet sounds of need as the twisting inside you spun. “This is about her, Tormund. Not your pride.” Uncaring as to what his response was to be, Jon pressed his lips to yours. Keeping the hand on your jaw so you couldn't get pulled from his lips. A bite to your bottom lip, you instantly parted letting Jon slide his tongue into your mouth to brush against your own. 

Your whines into his mouth only made him kiss you harsher, but your insides twisted as Tormunds other hand grasped at your breast, twisting your nipple until you gasped out a cry into Jons mouth. Your free hand raising up to hopelessly grasp at Tormunds wrist but he twisted the small bud just as he picked up how fast his fingers slid inside of you. 

Ever so slowly, Jon left your lips not without returning for multiple smaller kisses before he helped you up, sitting more upright on the bed, Jon, just as bare, knelt behind you, one hand at your waist while the other grasped at the breast Tormund didn't occupy. Both men working in tandem to grope greedily at your chest. 

Working together now, Tormund moved from your breast to more pull your hips up so his fingers could sink deeper at more of an angle. The coil twisted and suddenly it twisted too fast as a hand belonging to Jon that wasn't at your breast, moved to rub rough and tight circles at your clit. 

One hand holding onto Tormunds forearm as the other reached behind you and threaded through Jons curls as he buried his head leaving presses of his lips along your neck. Both men fast and rough, their hands large and calloused but they sent you hurling towards the end of a desire that had you clench around Tormunds fingers. One more sliding to make three and you whined out with a breathy cry to follow. Your thighs tensed as they spread wide for him, and Jons touch to your clit rubbed at the same pace Tormunds fingers slid in and out of you. 

Propped up with a hand still at your waist, you were forced to sit upright as your head fell back as the coil snapped. Tormunds fingers now sounding much more soaked each time he slid them inside of you that you felt a flush work up your chest to your cheeks. Leaning forward as your orgasm gave you aftershocks as he refused to pull them out. Only slowing his thrusts instead, this time you leaned up to meet his lips as he picked the pace up again. 

Knelt behind you still, Jon seemed to shift as you felt his cock, hard as he could be pressed right into your ass and grinding as he rubbed your clit still. Not having the ability to trail down to your wetness as he liked, you started to almost try and flinch from his touch as it felt like a stinging rawness and yet you pulled from Tormunds lips, to let your head fall onto Jons shoulder at the pain that had you begging for more. 

You didn't even know if words existed for you anymore, your core so stinging and yet the sounds between your legs were so humiliatingly wet. Trapped on the bed between two large, warm bodies before between them they plunged you right into a second orgasm that had you writhing into their touch between your legs desperately. 

Slowly, Tormund begun to pull his fingers out of you enjoying your wide eyes as he moved them into his mouth to taste what you left on him. A nervous swallow heavy in your throat as you reached back more to Jon. His own hands now both moving to your chest, grasping tightly at them and pulling at the small buds just rough enough to have you gasp for him. His rasp low in your ear, “You going to let me taste you?” 

Not anything leading, just a gentle prompt that had you inhale deeply. Your eyes fluttering shut only as you did so, before nodding. Jon gesturing for Tormund, the larger man then grabbed you, moving you right to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off the sides as you kept a noise inside your chest at your heart racing. 

Kneeling on the ground, Jon without any time wasted, gently draped your legs over his shoulders, as his hands on your hips tugged you to lay in the perfect place for him. Easy gentle presses of his lips along the inside of your thighs. Before he reached your soaked core, he moved back to the other thigh. 

Inching close to your heat, Jon once more moved your hips in his touch to just slightly raise up off the fur as he ran his tongue flat against you, running from your soaked entrance to your clit. Stopping to make small motions along it before sucking it into his mouth that had you arch against the bed with a moan, and Jon only repeated himself. Keeping you on edge as he never stayed for the same amount of time on either, always switching between his lips and tongue each time he heard your stuttering cries grow more consistent, he'd change it up. 

All you could see if you sat up slightly, was Jons dark curls between your legs and you would drop back to the bed with a high pitched sigh, sweat covering your body and dampening your hair. 

Tormund tilted your face to look up at him as he pressed his lips to your, now so eager. Covering your breathless sounds and muffled them in his own kiss, Jons hands on your hips grew tighter, the harder it became for him to hear your cries. Tongue slipping into your mouth, Tormund let one hand drift down to rest gently at your neck. No pressure put down but you felt it as his kiss grew deeper. 

Licking down to your entrance, Jon himself groaned between you at how wet you were, licking all he could reach with such fervour that he wished he could lay spread on the bed to at least let his cock grind into the fur, instead his cock sat leaking and painful at how deep his tongue had to run along inside you. Only making you even more wet as your hips arched to his touch and Jon would yank you closer to his mouth with a grunt. 

Your insides twisted, as your cries kept muffled, your hands reaching up to grasp at Tormunds shoulders as he half hovered over your top. Moving though to once more make a striking series of marks along now his side of your neck, rumbling low. “Those fuckers out there have no idea what they're missing, taste like heaven. Look at Snow, turned him into a starving fucking wolf between your legs, bet if he could chose where he dies again it'd be right where he is now.” 

Jons eyes almost black glared up at him without ever letting his mouth stop drinking from your cunt, a growl leaving him as he reached up to grasp at your breast. His eyes slipping back closed as he lost himself with how much you were soaking his mouth, how much of you was coating his tongue, and how little he ever wanted to do anything else. 

You grasped the hand on your chest, Jon not hesitating to let you interlock your fingers as you cried his name. Tormund wouldn't have been able to hear the deep growls into your cunt as Jons tongue licked deep inside you, only vibrating against you and making both his grip in your hand and on your hip tight. 

In only seconds did you have to realize your orgasm was about to wash over you, begging Jons name only to have Tormund put the slightest bit of pressure on your throat to grab your attention and bite into your lips with a kiss. Which only spurred Jon to move, yanking your hips up off the bed so he could more hold you and hear your voice instead, letting him lean down into you deeper then before. Forcing Tormund to have to follow and capture your lips in a demanding contest between them.

Your body burned as it flooded through you, something tight snapping that was white hot and too bright to even comprehend as you came, Jon drinking every bit you gifted to him with an eagerness that would've had you whine were Tormund not there to distract you and keep you tethered to the earth with his lips. 

Slowly, Jon ease up, tongue making smaller and less wide licks before pressing a kiss to your clit that had you almost jump. His own mouth soaked, Jon rested his forehead against your mound for a second as his breathing heaved almost painfully in his chest. Barley controlling himself, Jon suddenly moved back to kiss and suck at your clit, now just spreading your legs as wide as he could manage before moving his hands under to grip the cheeks of your ass tight, one in each hand. 

Part of you wondered if he almost forgot Tormund was even there, swearing low under his breath as he send you into falling tears as you snapped, another orgasm almost growing painful as was his greed attached to your lips, your cries in the open air the only thing having Jon finally come up for air. 

But using his strength to push you further up onto the bed before flipping you over. Your stomach against the furs as Jon knelt behind you, prompting you to sit up on your hands and knees, “Come on, up for me, there we go.” 

His hands grasped greedily at your ass, groping before pulling them wide in a stinging feeling. His own jaw set clenched tight as he looked at you. Tormund suddenly watching the utter dark greed in Jons eyes as they met the others gaze, Jons voice rasping low. “Here's what we're going to do, you're going to get her ready while I fuck her, then when I take her? Her cunt is yours.”  

Tormund nodded as you looked up at him and he smirked down at you, running a hand along your jaw with almost a condescending tone. “Your crow wants to fuck you a way no proper southern girl like you should want.”

Your chest lurched as Jons hands groped the skin there before a thumb trailing just over your ass, almost collapsing you into the bed at the feeling. “Jon?” 

But he didn't answer, not you. “You have it?” Whatever they spoke about, you watched Tormund nod as Jon continued. “Good, turn her around.”

As they both handled you like a rag doll, Jon pulled you up into his lap to straddle. His cock sat heavy and red between you, but he cupped your cheeks with his mouth slightly agape. “Look at you, haven't even been inside you and you're already a mess.” All you did was nod, wanting nothing more then for him to do whatever he wanted, both of them and Jon leaned in to kiss you again. 

Your arms wrapped around him, finding his hair to cling to as Jon wrapped his own arms around your waist and back pulling you to him. His kiss was purposely messy, tongue licking into your mouth to make you taste yourself from him, and rough bites of his teeth to your bottom lip that he hoped was going to leave a mark. Not once did he let you part from it, and as soon as he knew you felt it, one hand cupped the back of your head and kept you firmly against his mouth still. 

Tormund having spread some kind of warm oil along his fingers did he grope your ass just as Jon did before, only the second you felt him pressing a finger to your ass did Jon keep you with a hand at the back of your head to his lips. Tormund sinking a finger slowly inside your tight ass, a cry desperate to leave but Jon kept you right against him and his lips. 

You felt strange, the feeling of Tormund slowly moving in and out, you thought it should be awful, and yet? You clung tighter to Jons front at the feeling, strange moans leaving you that were as pleasured as they were confused. His other hand now, Jon guided your hips without breaking the kiss to hover over his cock and in one rough go, he had you sink down as deep as he could go. 

Barley able to groan your name into his kiss, Jon moved to let go to grab at your hips. Holding you in place for a moment, Jon pulled from your lips, soaked and saliva trailed between you as his eyes so grey they looked black bore intensely into yours. “Tormund?” 

Moving to kiss and bite at your neck, Tormund begun to slide his finger in and out of your ass at a steadily increasing pace. Jon tense as he held you on his cock, watching your face but the second you felt Tormund test letting a second join, Jon waited only until he was about to slide in before moving you on his cock again. 

The slap of your hips against his, only matched by how desperately you cried out. No ability to hide the watering in your eyes as you burned from how much he stretched you, but how much Tormund was as well. Your hands grasping at Jons shoulders as he bounced you up and down on his cock refusing to let you look anywhere but right at his tense expression. The sound already, the slap of skin almost felt filthy in front of someone else. But, Tormund kissed and bit at your neck almost making you tilt your head to give him more space, but his free hand moved you back to keep on Jon as his other started thrusting two fingers in and out of your ass at a faster rate. 

Taking over where Tormund held, Jon cupped your cheek as he pulled your forehead against his, raking his hand through your hair to the back of your head. Your cries nothing but music to his ears, eyes sealing shut as he hissed at the pressure around his cock. You knew you were clenching tight around him, Jon barley able to move but a few short inches as you were sat deep on him. 

Your hands draped down over his chest, pressing against the scars as you muttered out so softly all you could find words, “Oh fuck..Jon..fuck, I can't-”

Voice rough he nodded against you as he helped set your pace even rougher to push back how tight you kept getting around him. “I know, darling, I know, but you can take it I know you can.” Just as you felt Tormund creep a third finger to slip in, you cried out with a jolt a the feeling. Jon pulling you to hide in his neck as you all but collapsed into him with a shake. His voice rough, eyes peeling up from where he held you close to glare at the other. “Go easy, she's never done this before.” 

Tormund reached a hand around placing it against your lower stomach and pushing down making you dig your nails where you held onto Jon even more just as he pushed forward. “Your the one who wants this, Snow. I get my cock in her pretty, slick cunt and I'm a happy man, you're the one making demands of her.” 

You didn't have the right mind set to figure out what was going on with them, but both Jon and Tormund were well aware of what the problem was. Jons need was fighting with how possessive he was getting. How much he really did want this, but it was clashing aggressively with how much he hated anyone else even having eyes for you, let alone getting as much of you as Jon did. 

Tormund knew this was going to be a struggle the second he came to him with this idea, but in his mind, if the crow wanted this he was going to have to shut up and let Tormund take care of you. You weren't some quick fuck out in the North you were someone the man cared about and he knew Jon had to get over it. 

You peeled your head up, finding Jons eyes as he looked almost concerned at you but you smothered that with a kiss. Much more gentle and innocent then the situation called for. Your hands on his cheeks as his returned to your hips, moving you steady but at a slower pace as your heart calmed down. “Do you want to stop?” 

Jon almost didn't move for a second, something slamming him in the gut at the image. You were a wreck, grasping onto him, too overwhelmed by both mens aggresssive ways of taking you but you still found it in you to look so gently at him asking if you were the one pushing things too far. Worried his aggression meant he wanted to stop, himself. 

He didn't expect that to be the thing that brought him down to earth again, but it just made his heart grow heavy. Shaking his head, he pulled you back in for a kiss before muttering against your lips. “What I want is for you to cum for me. Cum on my cock, and if you're alright with it, Tormund's going to have his chance at feeling what a beautiful, perfect cunt you have. Do you want that?” 

Nodding, Jon finally shared a look with Tormund. His fingers thrusting deep caused you to gasp loud, leaning forward himself to somewhat drape your back against his chest with his free arm around you as Jon fucked up into you. Muttering in your ear, “Making him lose his mind over there, getting pissed at me just beacuse he wants his cock deep in your pretty ass.” 

One hand of Jons held gently at the side of your neck as he leaned forward to where Tormund held, kissing more lightly down his side of your neck as the other groped at your breast. One hand of yours raking through his damp curls while the other reached back to rake through Tormunds. Nodding, you could barley keep your eyes open at the fullness of both men in you. 

Jon muttered deeply into your neck as he moved down to run his fingers tight at your clit, “Let me fill you, cum on my cock and I'll fill you just the way you like.” Once more only able to nod your head as your core tightened and your orgasm waved over your nerves, in an instant you knew whatever sound came from you must have been loud, as Jons head flew up to cover it up with a kiss. 

Barley managing any more thrusts, you felt Jons thick, warm cum spill inside you as he kept you sat deep on his cock. Both of you shaking from the intensity. Kissing you until you felt the last of him fill you, Jon moved from your lips to your neck then up to your ear. “Can you take both of us at the same time?” 

Nodding, “Please, I promise, I can take it..” 

Jon pulled back, heaving breaths of his own as he ran his hand over your cheek before nodding. “Turn around for me.” 

Almost nervously exhaling, you felt both men pull from you at the same time, your hand grasping tightly at Jons shoulder at the feeling with a wince. You could see him leaning in to check on you, but you raised your other hand out, indicating you were fine. Slowly, Jon let you turn so you faced Tormund. 

The larger man wasting no time grabbing you and pulling you up onto his lap. One hand at your waist, the other grasping your chin to look down between you with his own smirk. “Your hands going to look that small around my cock, then they do normally?” 

One hand raking up into his hair, the other you reached down letting your thumb run over his cocks tip already with enough for you to run along him leaking. He kept his composure better but his haw clenched tight as his breathing heavied, watching with keen eyes as you slowly wrapped your hand more around him, letting what cum already there smear more down his cock. A chuckle left him, though. “She always this gentle when she's with you, Snow?” 

Finally feeling Jon press against your back, his own hand covering his cock with whatever warm oils Tormund had prepared you with earlier, as his other hand draped across your stomach over your scar, voice deep but a bit more collected now. “Makes me crazy, just makes me want to ruin her more.”

Your lips parted slightly, Tormund sat up to pull your hand away and guide you right over his cock. “Come on, pretty crow. Show me what makes your wolf so fucking obsessed with you.” Tormunds hands were on your waist but you felt Jons on your hips. 

About to find something to say, Jon shocked you by taking charge for your nerves, and pulling you right down onto Tormunds cock, a crying moan leaving you instantly as the man before you let his head drop back with a deep groan. Your own mouth agape, and you knew the strange lurch in your heart was how you truly never expected to be with the man this way and certainly not so suddenly. 

Not sparing any time, Tormund begun fucking up into you as he purposely sat forward catching your eyes as he did so. The slap of his hips against yours had you clenching tight around him and the degree of sensitive you already were from Jon, had you weak. Hands finding his shoulders your head dropped as you moved with him, getting used to who it was inside you as easily as it felt so good.

But then you felt him, you felt Jons hand on your hip  as he urged Tormund to stop. Pressing the tip of his cock right at your ass, Jon draped you with a hand by your neck back against him to mutter in your ear. “You sure you want this?” But you just nodded, and he kept you pressed back against him as the only one who moved was Jon.

Whatever Tormund prepared you for, you almost weren't ready at all for Jon, a flinch a the slightest press. The hand on your neck curling up to turn and rest your face partially against his, he shushed you gently. “Hey, hey, relax for me.  I need you to be calm, okay? I want you to feel good, darling.” You swallowed and nodded, taking deep breaths as Jon slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you. 

Tormund sat forward reaching for the space between the pair of you and holding firmly at the back of your neck as he ran his fingers down over your clit in tight patterns. Allowing Jon to slip just a little further in before you winced again, but strangely even to you following up with a moan. 

They went slow, Jon easing inside of you as Tormund was there to distract you anytime you tensed up from how overwhelmed it felt. And yet, as soon as Jon was deep inside of your ass, he groaned deeply. Resting his forehead against the back of your head, looking down to where he was sunk so deeply before pulling out. 

The feeling was so strange, it hurt, it felt odd and yet as Jon sunk back inside your mouth fell open in a silent cry. Grasping onto Tormund as Jon started a slow pace, not pulling out very much when you found the the mans eyes. Instead of asking though, you had a feeling Tormund would rather appreciate you moving on his cock on your own accord.

And judging by the groan he let out as you were slow moving up and down his cock, you were right. Just as much as you didn't want to stop with him either. Jon slowly made you shake and clench as he started to test out a faster pace. Your insides felt as if you were burning up, something overwhelmingly hot and twisting inside you, and as you picked up the pace on Tormunds cock, Jon thrusted harder into you. 

The closer you got to another orgasm, the closer Tormund got as he met your hips with his own thrusts, the more you enjoyed Jons cock in your ass. A whine leaving your lips as you clenched tightly around both of them before you felt the shocks slam into your blood. Sparking everywhere the burning hot star burst inside you and you collapsed into Tormund. His arms coming around you as he fucked up into you fast, his own end being sped towards and you didn't even have the awareness to understand what was happening outside their touch, your mind was a fog of only the two of them. 

But Jon knew, his voice rough while his cock was in a vice as he fucked your ass. Eyes dark and angry as he hissed out, “Pull out of her.” Tormund swearing under his breath as he pounded harder, but in a split second Jons voice rose to something so close to a growling yell, “Tormund-” 

It all happened too suddenly right as you were still too high in the sky from your orgasm, Tormund pulled out of you quickly, stroking roughly at his own cock before you felt him cum all over your stomach. But as soon as he was the only one inside you, Jon suddenly lost his patience. His thrusts turned to pounding, your head falling back against his shoulder he turned you with his free hand to lean back even more as he pressed his lips roughly to yours. Hand on the back of your hair keeping you there, Jon groaned much more freely as you ended up pushing back against him. 

Fisting your hair tightly, Jons voice murmured together roughly. “Gods, you like this, you like my cock deep in your ass.” Almost in awe Jon kept you tilted so he could look down at you while his cock fucked into you as you moved back against him the force of it was felt across your ass cheeks. “Fuck, my beautiful girl, look at you. Taking Tormunds cock, taking mine like this? I don't deserve you, you're perfect, my perfect girl,” Rambling he kissed you again and groaned. 

Burying his head now in your neck, Jon neared his end, and he knew he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Shifting, Jon moved so that as he pressed your front down, your palms having to brace against the furs, he realize how close to Tormunds cock you were again. 

Looking at the other, Jon with a hand on your spine trailed up to your hair again. “You want her mouth?” You couldn't even tell what the two were saying as Jon guided your head to Tormunds cock as he continued to pound into your ass with his teeth gritting at the warm tightness. “Suck his cock, darling.” 

His hand moved you down to take him. Your wetness still on him and now covered partially in his own cum, Jon moved you up and down the mans cock without letting you stop to breathe. His other hand holding tight as he grew rough. Pushing you to take Tormunds whole cock, Jon beckoned the man to take over with a rough, “Keep her right there.” Your heart racing at the overwhelming pressure in your throat from keeping him so deep. 

But Tormund kept you brushing against the wild, orange coarse hair around his cock as you gagged against him. “Gonna swallow every drop, pretty crow. Don't you waste anything I feed you.” 

Moaning against him, you felt him throb inside your mouth just as Jon growled your name, pounding five, six, seven more times all the while Tormund came deep in your mouth. Flooding you with his cum, dutifully making you swallow every drop with a needy moan. Only to have that increased as Jon pounded one last time before pressing himself against your back, head resting in between your shoulder blades as he came deep inside you. 

Filled in both ends, sweat and cum it felt like stuck to your skin as both men thrusted into whatever hole they saw fit to spill into. As Jons hips slowed, you felt gentle presses of his lips to your shoulder blades. Jons hand reaching around to run gently down the length of your throat, the sensation easing the tension and making Tormunds cum a little easier to swallow so deep.

The sounds of you trying to drink every last drop of cum had both men hold tightly. Tormund in your hair and Jon at your waist. 

If you were being honest, you barley were aware of anything after that for a while. You felt the pain and over stimulation as Jons cock slowly left your ass. How you gasped for air as Tormunds cock finally left your mouth, but you didn't really register anything around you. 

Catching your breathe on your hands and knees, it wasn't until Jon noticed the third time you didn't even seem to realize he was calling to you did he move quickly. Pulling you up into his arms, he turned you onto your back, keeping one wrapped around you as the other ran down your hair, murmuring gentle soothing words as you nuzzled into him. 

Glancing up at Tormund with almost a worry at how far you had dropped, the larger man sat down on the bed. Running a hand over your hip gently. Voice low as to not startle you so close but looking with affection at you all the same. “Just keep talking to her, she'll come back to you.” 

Burying his face in your neck, Jon spoke soothingly as he glanced up to the wildling man now grabbing at his own clothes. “I didn't sign up for your neediness, Snow. You're her problem, not mine.” 

Before he could leave, Jon called his name. A genuine look of thanks as he ran his hand down your hair, “I'm not kicking you out.” 

But the man smirked, “Fucking your girl? I'll be here. Staying to watch you act all cute and sappy after? Fuck no.” They both chuckled, and both had a feeling a discussion about boundaries was coming Tormunds way at some point, but for now, Jon let it go. 

The door closing, leaving just the two of you he turned you better to face him as he just ran a hand through your hair with gentle words until you came back to him. 

Finding his eyes, you reached up to cup his cheek and pull him into a gentle kiss as your bare bodies stayed tangled together. “Jon..”

Nudging your nose with his, Jon smiled. “Rest, darling.  You did so well, I'm proud of you.” 

Nodding as you easily let the sleep take over, you curled into his chest with your hands draped by his collar bones. Your voice quiet and mumbling, “I love you..” 

Mumbling it back, Jon kissed your hair, but for now, that was all he could give while you were drifting to sleep. And until you calmly fell asleep, Jon watched you the entire time, only snuggling down into the bed against you did he allow himself to close his eyes. 

He was glad you enjoyed it, beacuse as much as he did too, a bigger part of Jon hated every single second he was sharing you and the likelihood of doing it any more, was slim to none. 

Jon Snow was far too in love with you to open this relationship up to other people ever again.

[delopsia]

Every time Robert "Bob" Floyd is on screen

[em1i2a3]

When The Sun Hits

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Avengers!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob are starting to test the waters among rampant growing suspicions from the rest of the team (This is a continuation of “Carry The Zero”)

Warnings: AHEM! 18+ Minors DNI! Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts just because of Bob’s involvement (there’s no mentioning of the plot from Thunderbolts or anything just character involvement ex. Bucky, Yelena, Alexei, Walker etc.), Fluff, References to Sex and/or Sexual Acts, Bob…Is a warning lol. There’s a little bit of self-depreciation in this, talking bad about oneself, but nothing too extreme on that front.

Smut Warnings: Grinding, Teasing (kind of on the brink of edging?) Unprotected P in V Sex (Wrap it up y’all…Or Y’know…Take precautions at least lol), Oral Sex (fem receiving), Fingering, Spit Swallowing, Handjob, Praise/Worship Kink. Soft/Submissive Bob (if you squint) (Hopefully I didn’t miss anything),

Author’s Note: I got this out as soon as I possibly could, thank you so much for the activity on the last post :) y’all are frickin awesome. I hope you enjoy this new part of this story, because I’m going straight to horny jail *boink boink* lol (also whoever made this gif you deserve all the fucking flowers <3)

Word Count: 16,150

Two weeks later you found yourself on the training mat, slicked with sweat, and out of breath.

You wiped your forearms across your forehead, chest rising and falling as you rolled your shoulders to relieve some tension that seized up your back, steadying your stance again, angling yourself carefully so your sight was trained on both Yelena and Bucky.

“Ready?” Yelena asked, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, her curtain bangs bobbing with each movement, preparing herself to pounce.

“As I’ll ever be,” You muttered, exhaling hard through your nose, tasting the remnants of blood that you had spit out two rounds ago after taking a pretty hard slap to the face. You kept your mind clear though, because if you focused on anything else in that moment, you’d lose miserably, or get hurt again, which was something that you didn’t want at all, especially after you were benched for a week after you injured your shoulder.

It was two against one today, which was entirely unfair, but also part of the challenge. Bucky called it ‘awareness training.’ Yelena called it ‘fun.’

They flanked you like wolves attacking a wounded animal. Yelena moved first, sharp and precise, going for a low sweep with her leg. You jumped and dodged it easily, pivoting to avoid Bucky’s right hook. He was heavier on his feet, but that didn’t mean he was slower in any sense. You ducked beneath his next swing and caught Yelena’s wrist before she could even capitalize on your evasion, using her own momentum to send her stumbling back, giving you some space to breathe.

”Not bad,” She huffed.

”Not done yet,” Bucky growled, before charging at you again. You anticipated him this time, moving back just enough to throw him off rhythm. He came at you with a series of jabs, but you blocked them all, even the ones that were enhanced by his vibranium arm, which surprised you even. You parried with a side kick that landed square against his hip, catching him off balance. This granted you a window to turn back towards Yelena, who had just regained her footing.

She came in full force and you barely had time to register her moves. You raised your arm to shield your face from her fist, feeling the impact ripple along the muscle just below your biceps, before striking in the open space she left, right at her ribs, which made her take in a sharp gasp of air.

You didn’t mean to, but a little satisfied smirk played on your lips, like you had the upper hand, like you were finally going to win…Then Bucky swept your legs out from under you with a move so clean you barely noticed the impact.

You hit the mat with a hard exhale, the wind knocking out of your lungs as your back hit the floor. The fluorescent light shined down into your eyes, almost blinding you, and in a blink, Bucky was standing over you, looking down with his hands on his hip.

”You got cocky…And let your guard down for the third time.” He muttered, with a small grin plastered on his face.

”That…” You breathed, trying to recoup the air you lost from slamming into the mat, “Was a cheap shot,” You added, blinking up at him, seeing the way his hair framed his face as he shook his head at you. Without another word, he extended his hand out to you, and you took it, fingers gripping his forearm as he hoisted you to your feet in one swift movement. You staggered slightly when the room tilted for a split second, your balance thrown from the impact you took that still surged through you with little aftershocks. Bucky steadied you instantly with a firm hand on your elbow, eyes scanning over your face.

”You alright?” He asked, with concern lacing his voice, trying to determine whether or not you needed another med bay visit. You gave him a nod.

”Yeah, yeah, just a bit dizzy from that slam, but I’ll live.” Right before Bucky was going to respond, Yelena cut in.

”Alright you two. Water. Now. Before I pass out from sweating so much.” She didn’t wait for either of you to agree, she just turned toward the bench on the far side of the room, and snatched up three water bottles from the crate nearby, which were already chilled. She tossed one to you and to Bucky, beckoning the both of you to join her in a nice break.

The three of you dropped down onto the bench with soft grunts and groans harmonizing the air, as you dragged the back of your arm across your forehead to wipe the beads of sweat off it. You were beat, that was for certain. You could already feel a new set of bruises forming on your body, especially where you had landed on your ass just moments ago, and that was just another thing you were going to have to tend to for the next few days.

You twisted the cap off your bottle and took three large gulps from it, feeling your chest go cold from how quick you chugged. Your sweat-slicked shirt clung to your spine, but the introduction of the drink was finally managing your body temperature, as your pulse began to slow down, easing the rhythmic thumping that echoed through your ears. You put the cap back on, and placed the bottle against your forehead with a sigh, watching your teammates settle down–Yelena beside you, Bucky on the bench across the way. That’s when you felt it…The subtle tension in the air, the silence that lingered just long enough that it made you suspicious.

Bucky lifted his brows sharply at Yelena, like he was daring her to speak first, like they had been planning on asking you questions all day but didn’t know how to approach the subject. She shook her head just once, staring at him with pointed daggers, almost like she was saying that it was his idea so he should be the one to say it. He let out a defeated sigh.

“So…Uh…” He started, scrunching his nose like the words that were on the tip of his tongue tasted weird in his mouth, “How’s it going with Bob? Y’know…Rooming with him and all.” The question caught you off guard, but the awkwardness from Bucky gave off the sense that he was asking this more because everyone else around him was talking and making up their own theories, and he just wanted to get the answers once and for all.

That didn’t mean the question didn’t spike your heart rate again though. Just the mentioning of Bob made you immediately go on defence mode, not just because of what was going on between the both of you, but because you both wanted this to be private until further notice. Neither of you were prepared for the team to know about your late night rendezvous, or how deep the connection really went. It was your little secret and you preferred to keep it that way.

“It’s okay…” You answered, trying to cover up the stutter in your words, “He’s definitely one of the easier roommates I’ve had to be honest. Super quiet, keeps to himself. It’s great.” You avoided Bucky’s gaze, your eyes focusing on the water bottle in your hands before glancing over at Yelena, who was already squinting at you.

”Super quiet, huh?” She repeated, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards, like she didn’t quite buy what you were putting down. You looked over at Bucky too, now seeing that he was watching you as well with one elbow propped up on his knee so he could rest his chin on his fist.

“Yeah, super quiet, he just reads and sleeps basically, nothing more, nothing less. What’s with this line of questioning? You two roleplaying as detectives or something?” Bucky huffed through his nose, a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

”We wouldn’t have to be detectives if you weren’t so secretive…” You raised your eyebrows at Bucky, attempting to hold onto your fake innocence, trying to make it seem like they weren’t somehow onto you, even though there was no possible way they could know anything that was going on in your shared room…Not unless there were cameras, but that was definitely not the case…Because you looked for them.

“Me? Secretive? I don’t understand how I’m being secretive, I’m answering your questions, aren’t I?” Yelena made a small humming sound beside you, sipping from her water bottle, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

”Okay then, Miss Transparency…” She started, setting the bottle on the bench gently, “What about the window?” You froze, and instantly your brain spiraled with questions on how the hell she found out about the window. You kept your cool on the outside, while the rest of your internal organs were twisting and malfunctioning on the inside trying to figure out how you were going to get yourself out of this one.

”What window?” You asked.

”The one in your room,” Yelena responded, leaning forward just a little bit to crowd your space, “Maintenance said you put in a request to fix it three days ago because there was a crack in the glass. He said it looked like someone took a sledge hammer to it. Kinda weird, yeah?” You blinked at Yelena, keeping your expression blank, like you were thinking.

“Ohhhh…That window.” You said, as if you had just remembered what she was talking about. You waved your hand vaguely, letting out a shaky laugh, which did absolutely nothing to cover the tension that began to seep through your muscles, “Yeah, no, it’s not that weird. I, uh…Accidently pushed my dresser drawer closed a little too hard and the wood slammed into the glass, kind of a freak accident if you ask me.” Yelena stared at you flatly, watching you flail while trying to come up with something believable off the top of your head. If you had time to actually prepare for the grilling you would’ve at least thought of something as back up, but this was just totally unexpected.

It’s not like you could’ve told them the truth anyways, because it just wouldn’t have sounded good, and it would’ve just put Bob under the spotlight once again, and he didn’t deserve that at all. Not when he was trying so hard to get along with everyone, which he was doing very well at until this point at least.

So you just laughed it off again, muttering something about needing to be more careful, before tipping the bottle of water to your lips to shut yourself up.

But your mind was already drifting back to that night, and you couldn’t stop it.

——————

Four nights ago was movie night.

Alexei had insisted on it—insisted being the operative word, because no one had really agreed to it in the first place.

He said movie nights were a “sacred ritual” from his youth, a tradition that brought people together, made them stronger, and unified the soul. And when someone offhandedly mentioned that Bucky had never seen Rocky IV, that sealed everyone’s fate.

“It is masterpiece,” Alexei declared, standing in the center of the living room with the case held high like a relic. You were surprised that he even had a DVD of it, but then again he had mentioned in passing it was one of his favourite movies.

“American propaganda, yes, but still…Very good representation.” He exclaimed, moving around the living room to locate the video player, as you all watched him.

So Rocky IV became the night’s reluctant feature, and any protests were quickly steamrolled under his booming enthusiasm.

The lights were off, the curtains were drawn, and the only glow in the room came from the TV screen—icy blue and gunmetal gray as the film’s opening credits began to roll. Everyone had found their spots. Yelena curled into one corner of the sectional while Walker was on the other, Bucky sat low in a beanbag chair with his arms crossed, Alexei sat right in front of the television with the reverence of a man watching live theatre…

And then there was you.

You tucked yourself into the corner of the couch with a blanket draped on top of you, leaning against a pillow for support because your shoulder was still giving you a little bit of trouble. Bob was beside you, but he was not close enough to raise suspicion as the both of you had separate blankets and weren’t really touching at all…Not yet, at least.

Somewhere near the halfway point of the movie–just after Rocky’s training montage–Bob shifted slightly beside you, adjusting himself with a slight turn of his hips. It wasn’t a big move, but it was noticeable enough to draw your eyes to him, then you saw his hand sliding beneath his blanket ever so slowly, paying attention to the others in the room, hoping that none of them would turn around.

Even through the terrible lighting you could see him beginning to flush, his pale skin becoming a gentle hue of pink which spread all the way down to the collar of pale green sweater, and below it. You couldn’t help but smirk at the sight, seeing how he tried to keep his profile composed, as he moved his hand with quiet purpose, sliding beneath your blanket in one quick movement, knowing that once he was under there nobody would know any better what was happening.

His fingers found your thigh beneath the covering, completely bare for him because of the flannel shorts you were wearing. The first touch was delicate, almost like it wasn’t even there, though you could feel the heat radiating off his skin as the pads of his fingers ghosted over the wide plane of your flesh. He was waiting for you to pull away, to signal to him you didn’t want him to do this here, but when that moment didn’t come, his hand finally settled against you.

He took everything slow, and moved with such care and purpose that you felt like you were going to melt into the sofa . His palm molded gently to the outside of your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles, drawing goosebumps up to the surface of your skin. The touch wasn’t lewd, nor needy…It was intimate in one of the simplest ways possible. Just the grounding press of his hand against you, soaking up the heat of your body, letting it mingle with his own.

You felt your pulse begin to hammer in your ears, and your eyes flickered to the rest of the team, checking if they were still transfixed by whatever was happening in the movie, which they were. Nobody was looking. So you took this as an opportunity for yourself to make a move now too.

It was a gentle shift, just enough to let your blanket drape a little farther over the space between the both of you, until it overlapped with his. You ripped a page out of Bob’s book and slipped your hand beneath the threshold of the covering, before moving it towards him with the same stealthy patience he had just moments ago.

You found his thigh easily, resting your hand against the soft checker-patterned sleep pants he wore. The fabric was light and thin enough to allow you to feel every flex and shift of muscle beneath your touch, the way it twitched at first contact and relaxed when you dragged your palm against it. He cleared his throat gently, trying to mask the noise that was about to slip out of his throat unwillingly.

His thumb on your thigh had stilled completely in those moments, like you had pulled the plug on all his motor functions by just settling your hand on him in the most gentle way possible. Over the past week of being holed up together during your Bucky mandated break from training, you had learned that gentleness was the key thing that unraveled Bob faster than anything else ever could.

Your fingers slowly dragged upward with the lightest graze over the thin fabric, tracing the line of muscle you could feel there. You didn’t press hard, there was no need to, because you could already feel that he was burning under your palm, coming undone, shifting in his seat, like he wanted to get closer to you but couldn’t.

He was trying so hard not to breathe loudly, or to draw attention to himself by making an unnatural noise. His hand tightened on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze, like he was pleading for you to continue, but for you to also take it easy on him because he didn’t know how much he was going to be able to handle. He felt like he was going to turn into a puddle on the sofa, and the sweating and flushing that he was doing was only a prelude to that. You could feel the tension in his body, the way it practically vibrated through him, and it only made you want to touch him more.

You smoothed your thumb over the inside of his thigh, just above the knee, where he flinched. He sucked in a breath and immediately turned it into a cough, low and forced, like he was trying to dislodge something that was stuck in his throat–even though you knew it was just him trying to stifle a sound that he didn’t dare let out–squeezing your thigh again like it was anchoring him to whatever stability he had left.

You didn’t need more than this. You just enjoyed every morsel of connection you got from him, and revelled in the excitement that coursed through your veins from the small things you learned about him, like how easy he was to read, or how flustered he got from such little contact. Or how touch-starved he was despite all the late nights and quiet mornings you two were sharing up until this point. He was learning how to let himself go, but that didn’t mean he was used to it just yet.

By the time the end credits rolled and Alexei stood to stretch with a complaint about how Americans don’t know when to end a movie, Bob was already clawing at the opportunity to make his grand escape. His hand left your thigh, and reached for his blanket–not to fold it, not to hold it when he stood–but to clutch it, to replicate the grip he had on your skin moments before. You slowly removed your hand from him as well, making sure you discreetly brought it back into your area without anyone noticing.

Every motion he did was methodical, almost exaggerated in its effort to present itself as casual, like the both of you weren’t just touching each other's thighs beneath your communal blankets. You watched from the corner of your eye as Bob adjusted the covering over his lip, gripping the hem carefully as he shifted on the couch, leaning slightly forward.

He was shielding himself.

You could tell by the blush that began to deepen around his neck, and the way he couldn’t seem to look at anyone in the room–not even you–that he was trying very hard not to be obvious about the problem that was currently occurring below his waist. The one you had caused with just the gentle stroking of his thigh.

The realization made you heat up, but also smirk.

”I’m gonna…Uh…” Bob cleared his throat, attempting to cover up the way his words buckled under his voice “Head to my room…Start getting ready for bed and stuff, I had a good book I was getting into before…C-Coming to watch the movie.” He added, standing from the couch, keeping the blanket bunched in front of him with a practiced sort of shuffle that only he could execute with pure awkwardness. He said a vague goodnight and everyone responded in their own little way, as he moved towards the corridor that led to the makeshift bedrooms.

Your eyes followed his movements, watching when he made it out of everyone’s line of sight. He turned around, knowing that your eyes were already on him and mouthed a very light “please hurry,” before rushing down the hallway to seek refuge in the privacy of your room.

You waited exactly thirty seconds, which was long enough for the heat in your limbs to settle so when you stood up you didn’t have shaky legs, or draw attention to any of your actions, even though nobody was really paying attention in general.

Yelena was half-sleep, eyes barely open while she nursed what was left of her electrolytes. Walker had his head tilted back, and was snoring loudly. Bucky was sprawled out in the beanbag chair, and Alexei was still rambling, only now it was about how Ivan Drago’s story in Rocky is just misunderstood. So you took the opportunity to stand, and let out an exaggerated yawn, rubbing your eyes for added effect.

”Think I’m also going to head to bed too. I’m exhausted.” You murmured, which earned a small wave from Yelena, a grunt of acknowledgment from Bucky, and a pause from Alexei.

”Did you not like the movie?” He asked, and you smirked.

”Yes of course I liked it, I’ve just seen it a few too many times, but tomorrow you can give me the footnotes on how misunderstood Drago’s story is, for now though I’m off to bed.” He gave you a wide smile, and as you moved away from the living room you could hear him mumble something about you actually being interested in what he had to say.

You quickly made your way down the hall, feeling your heart racing as you made your way towards the room. You tried your best to not make yourself look suspicious but the anticipation was eating you up on the inside.

The second you entered your shared quarters and closed the door behind you, you felt it–that shift in the air, like the moment right before lightning strikes a tree, the static that ebbs and flows through the atmosphere, like a warning to those who are around. The only light that glowed in the space was the desk lamp, which casted golden shapes across the walls, and once you locked the door and turned around, your eyes fell on him.

Bob stood by his bed, the blanket was long discarded, and his sweater was removed, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. His hands were fidgeting uselessly with the tie of his sleep pants, and when his eyes fell on you it was like he lost all the thoughts that were running through his head. The flush of pink on his cheeks hadn’t faded, if anything it had gotten worse between the time he left the couch and now, like the warmth had fully rooted inside him.

He didn’t say anything right away, he just opened his arms slightly, silently offering himself to you.

In a few quick steps, you crossed the room, taking up the space between his arms, pressing your hands gently to his chest, feeling the way his heart galloped beneath your palm. He cupped your elbows first, tentative and shy, looking down at you with those shimmering blue eyes that you had come to fawn over in secret, before letting his hands slide down to your wrists. You gave him a soft smile, tilting your head back a bit so he could lean forward to kiss you.

His mouth brushed yours once–tentative and silent, like he was asking a question–then again, with more confidence when you didn’t pull away, before fully pressing his mouth to yours. He kissed you like he thought he would never get the chance to do it again. Like he was memorizing the shape of your lips, or the way you sighed into him like you’d been holding your breath for hours while waiting for this moment to come. His hands left your wrists, you slid up to your jaw, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the corners of your mouth

And you melted into him.

You’d been doing this dance for the past few nights now–experiencing these careful, burning moments together that never quite tipped over the edge–and neither of you seemed to mind. You didn’t need the act of sex to feel intimate with him, even though you still had those thoughts that raced through you from time to time.

Every night you got to learn something new about him–how his breathing changed when you kissed his throat, how the muscles in his stomach twitched when you trailed your fingers ever so slowly under the hem of his shirt, and how he arched subtly into your touch like he was too afraid to vocalize that he wanted more.

It was explorative, patient, and gentle, and that’s all the both of you needed to have a good time.

The kiss continued to deepen, as his lips parted for you, letting your tongue through the threshold. He tasted like fresh breath mints, like he had swallowed a few before you came into the room, which wasn’t an out of place thought at all–he typically did small things like that.

His hands skimmed down your neck, and over your shoulders, travelling down to your hips to anchor himself against you. He put a little more pressure into the kiss, feeling your body press flush into his, causing a small gasp to escape and vibrate against your lips from him. He pulled back for a moment, as your arms slid around his neck, guiding him down even more so he could bury his face briefly into your shoulder. He breathed in deeply, letting his lungs fill with the various scents that radiated off of you– the vanilla from your shampoo, the lavender from your perfume, and the sage that constantly stayed on all of your clothes in general–before exhaling shakily, tugging you closer to him.

He guided you backward with a quiet sort of urgency.

”Come here,” He whispered, the words came out so softly it barely made it past his lips.

He led you to his bed, with his hand pressed low at your back, fingers splayed out like it was steadying the both of you. When the backs of your legs met the edge of the mattress you let yourself sit, eyes still locked on his. He was still watching you closely, like you were ethereal, something that shouldn’t exist for him.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling how swollen it was just from the one kiss that you got, and brought your fingers to the hem of your shirt, slipping them under. Bob felt his chest heave for a moment, the beating of his heart only becoming more frantic, as he hung on your movements like it was a sacred text.

You peeled the top off slowly, revealing the curve of your waist, your chest, your shoulders in small increments–it was more than he’d ever seen at once from you. Once you riddled yourself of the article of clothing you threw it to the side, which left you in just a plain white, cotton bra.

Bob’s gaze swept over you modestly, almost like he was too shy to linger on one part of you for too long, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You saw the way he struggled to swallow for a moment, gulping loudly from the way his throat closed from all the tension that was building up in the room, then you saw his hands move down to the hem of his own shirt.

He awkwardly shimmied out of the fabric, tugging it over his head, messing up his light brown mane of hair in the proces. You could feel your chest tighten, and your mouth dry up, seeing the expanse of skin that was exposed to you.

It was the first time he’d allow you to see him like this.

And god–he was beautiful.

His chest was broad and lean. He was dusted with freckles that went across his shoulders and collarbones, like they were constellations begging to be traced. There were a few scars too–old and pale, stretched and softened with time, because they certainly weren’t fresh. You wondered about each of them. Not necessarily the stories, but how they shaped him as the person you were falling for more and more every day.

He was flushed from neck to navel, the pink hue blossoming over his ribs and all the way up to his ears. His arms hung at his sides for a moment, allowing you to drink in the image, even though he was visibly curling in on himself a bit. You reached out for him, beckoning for him to come closer to you, watching as he sheepishly moved into your space now. Your fingers skimmed gently over his ribs, dragging slowly up the plane of his stomach and across the center of his chest. You looked up at him with a smile plastered on your lips

“You’re breathtaking Bob…” You whispered, seeing the way his eyes softened, hearing the sincerity that laced your voice when the compliment fell from you. He felt lightheaded from it, as you leaned in to kiss the skin just above his navel, your smile shadowing against the flesh.

“I think I’m gonna die.” He responded, choking on his own breaths.

”Now, now…Don’t die yet…You haven’t kissed me again.” That is what unraveled him, seeing you pull away from his stomach, looking up at him with those lust filled eyes that he had seen night after night.

He leaned down slowly this time, and when your lips met, it was warmer than before, like a supernova had exploded between the both of you. It started soft, like the last one, but it built. His mouth moved over yours with a kind of reverence that made your toes curl into the carpet beneath you. His hands skimmed down your sides, thumbs brushing along the soft slope of your waist as he kissed you deeper.

Then one hand drifted lower, tracing over your outer thigh. He paused just for a second to look at you, and when you gave the smallest nod, he gently urged you backward.

You let him guide you down until you back pressed into the mattress as he hovered above you, bracing himself on one elbow beside your head while the other stayed on your thigh, as you bracketed his hips with your legs. You could feel how hard he was trying to rein himself in, watching his shoulders tense when you brought him closer to you.

”A-Are you sure this is okay?” He whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the thin space between you.

”Bob,” You murmured, tracing your fingers along the freckles on his collarbone, “If I wasn’t sure, I would tell you.” His eyes fluttered shut for a beat, the words sinking into him like a weighted blanket, before he leaned forward to kiss you again, savouring the contact.

You felt the way he trembled just slightly above you, the way he braced so carefully against his arm, like he was scared of putting too much weight on you, or doing something wrong. His lips dragged over yours, warm and open, letting you taste the cool mint again as his tongue flicked out to meet yours when you deepened the kiss.

His breath stuttered as he exhaled sharply through his nose, attempting to keep up, but you could feel how overwhelmed he was already. Your hands slid over his back, fingers tracing along the soft lines of his muscles beneath skin that practically burned beneath your touch. You felt every ripple, every twitch of control that he tried to maintain, and the thought of it–of him holding himself back for you–made you want to pull him even closer.

He groaned softly against your mouth, almost like it was bordering on a whimper.

“Jesus…You feel so good,” He whispered suddenly, like he couldn’t keep it in, like it was something he had been wanting to say all week and it finally burst free. His voice cracked slightly with the confession, and his cheeks burned as he buried his face against your jaw to hide the heat crawling up his neck, realizing how stupid it must’ve sounded.

”S-Sorry, I just…I just-“ You hushed him for a moment, slipping your hand up his back slowly before curling your fingers into his hair.

”Bob…Don’t apologize. You feel good against me too.” You had barely let the words settle between the both of you, when you hooked your legs a little tighter around his waist and gently guided his hips closer to yours.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat.

His jaw slackening and his lips parting in tandem with one another, as his eyes locked onto yours like he was trying to decipher something written across your irises. You could see it in his face–the unraveling, the awe, the absolute vulnerability of someone who wasn’t used to being wanted like this. And yet, he was burning from the inside out.

“What…What are you doing?” He asked, his voice thin and shaky.

Instead of answering, you ground your hips up against him in one slow, aching press.

The noise he made was soft and strangled, caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second, then snapped open again, and you were able to see the dazed glassiness that shimmered over them. You could see the way the new sensation tore through him, as a full-body tremor made his shoulders tense and his thighs flinch.

He didn’t move at first–he couldn’t. But when you tugged gently on the back of his hair and pressed your lips to his neck, he let go.

His hips rocked forward, not with force but with aching, desperate need, mirroring the movement you’d given him. Your bodies slotted together in a slow, tender rhythm, each motion sending a wave of heat in your abdomen. It wasn’t frenzied or rough—it was exploratory, intoxicating, and so deeply charged you felt like your bones were shaking.

You kissed your way up his neck, feeling his pulse jump under your lips. His hand was trembling against your thigh, while the other one gripped the duvet beside your head. You felt the shudder in his breath again, and the way his hips pressed a little harder this time, a little more urgently. You could feel the outline of him pushing against the thin fabric of your cotton shorts, and it left you breathless, just the thought of being so close almost made your heart stop.

The moment swelled around you–timeless, heavy, and sacred.

Then your fingers trailed down, slow as molasses, brushing over his abdomen and dipping lower, finding the waistband of his sleep pants.

The reaction was instantaneous.

His entire body went rigid, and his eyes snapped open, bright and wide—and in that split second, you saw it. That flicker of gold in his irises. It glinted like sunlit honey, like lightning flashing beneath the surface of a lake.

Then–CRACK.

A sharp, unnatural noise split into the room, and both your heads jerked toward the window, seeing the fracture that had webbed across the glass. It kind of looked similar to when a rock hits a windshield at full speed, only there was a larger impact point. You both blinked at the damage, before your eyes returned to his, seeing that the gold was gone, and he was back to his normal shimmering blue irises that you were enamoured by.

His mouth moved to speak, but no sound came out, then he looked down at himself, and froze. You followed his gaze, seeing a wet spot blooming across the front of his pants.

Then everything happened all at once.

He scrambled off of you, nearly toppling sideways off the bed in the process, and you sat up immediately, reaching for him.

”Bob…Hey…” You said, trying to get him to calm down a bit, but he was already moving.

”Crap…I’m-I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked, as he grabbed his shirt off the floor, pulling it on with frantic hands like he needed to shield himself from you, from the world, from his own embarrassment that floated up into his chest, causing him to shake a bit. He tried to cover up the wet patch as his skin turned a cherry red, spreading all the way over his face and neck. He opened his drawer so fast that it nearly flew off the track as he collected the first pair of boxers and sleep pants that he could find.

“Bob, it’s alright.” You murmured, watching him rush towards the door,

”I-I just…I need…I just need a second.” He whispered before bolting out the door so he could tend to himself in the privacy of the bathroom.

You sat on his bed, still breathless from the closeness, from the way his body had moved against yours, and from the crack in the damn window. But mostly, from the way he looked when he realized what had happened—like the sky had fallen on him. Your heart was aching in the way he reacted, and now that you were sitting alone everything felt amplified.

Your eyes drifted to the window again, staring at the crack that shimmered faintly beneath the golden wash of the lamp–splintering like lightning. Curiosity pulled you from the bed, as you shuffled closer to it, wanting to get a better look.

The fracture was intricate, jagged at the center with spider web veins splitting outward like a slow explosion. You reached up, hovering your hand in front of it.

No air came through, no whistling of wind, and no change in temperature.

You furrowed your brow and pressed your palm against the surface, feeling the cool solidity of the glass. It didn’t flex, nor did it crack even more with the pressure you placed on it, which made you even more perplexed.

You stepped back slightly, squinting at the window. It definitely wasn’t a regular one, it was industrial, reinforced, maybe even bulletproof. The thought made your lips part a little, as you tried to reconcile the softness of Bob–the sweet, awkward, blushing man who mouthed please hurry to you because he wanted to be so close–with the person who had just cracked fortified glass because he was so overwhelmed by your touch.

You huffed out a breath that was caught between awe and amusement, as you continued to stare at the jagged impact, until you saw movement in the glass, noticing Bob trying to sneak in, like you wouldn’t see him. You turned on your heels.

He stood against the door, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as you looked him over. He had changed into navy blue sleep pants, and his hair was clinging to his forehead–you assumed it was from him splashing water on his face to freshen up. He was holding onto a bundle of clothes–the ones he had changed out of–as his eyes scanned over you before dating away. You glanced down at yourself, suddenly remembering that you were shirtless, standing in your bra still.

His face flushed again, but this time it was threaded with much more than just embarrassment. There was remorse in there, maybe even a little bit of fear, like he was worried that you wouldn’t look at him the same because of what happened.

“I…” He started, voice hoarse, “…I’m sorry. Again. I didn’t mean to just…Leave like that, I just–” He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. Or, I mean–you did, I guess, but–God.” He laughed breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut for a second. “I’m making this worse.” You shook your head gently, cutting him off before he spiraled any further.

“It’s okay Bob…Trust me you don’t have to apologize.” You said quietly, stretched out a hand towards him, “Now, come over here please.” Bob glanced down at the gesture, returning his gaze back up at you, hesitating for only a second before stepping forward, dropping the bundle of clothes on the floor. His movements were so timid, like a wounded animal coming over to look at the mess it made.

When he was close enough you leaned forward and wrapped your hand around his wrist. His eyes were wide and glistening as you tugged him toward you even more, his lashes trembling with the weight of remorse. Not just for bolting from the room or leaving you half-dressed and flushed on his bed, but for losing control…For being too much.

“I see those cogs turning in your head. Your brows are furrowing. Stop thinking for a second, and just look at me Bob.” You said, breaking through the thoughts that kept racing through his head, wrapping your arms around his waist. Bob let out a soft sigh, bringing his gaze down to yours. His hands hovered over your back for a moment before slowly coming to rest against your skin, holding onto you like he was afraid you were going to crack.

“…I truly didn’t mean to do that…” He murmured, motioning to the window, “I didn’t even think about it...It just happened.” You turned slightly in his arms, glancing back at the window for a split second, then returning your gaze back to him. You tilted your head up, brushing your lips softly against the underside of his jaw, feeling the beginnings of stubble.

”Pretty sure it’s bulletproof glass too, by the way.” He blinked down at you, his cheeks flushing a deeper red, confused at the statement, and at the way you were smirking up at him, “I must’ve really gotten you going.” You added, trying to lighten the mood. A groan caught in his throat.

”Please…Don’t say that.” He whispered under his breath.

”Why not? It’s kind of hot.” Bob’s eyebrows raised at your comment, letting out a quiet laugh–embarrassed, and flustered, but undeniably touched by the way you were trying to make light of the situation.

”You know…I think you should actually be a little freaked out by this at least,” He stated gently, pulling back just a little bit so the both of you could comfortably look at each other, “I mean…We didn’t even…Do anything and I…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, as he ran his hands along your back, “I’m just saying if I lost that much control just f-from grinding against you, what’s going to happen when we have sex?” He added, his voice laced with worry. You traced your fingers along his spine as you listened, feeling his chest rising and falling against you, the panic simmering underneath all the tension in his muscles. You leaned into him a bit more.

”Well…You don’t really use your powers all that much, Bob.” He raised his eyebrows at you, surprised by what you were possibly suggesting. You continued, gently brushing your thumbs along the hem of his shirt.

“Maybe that’s part of the problem. You’ve been bottling all that energy up without giving yourself a way to release it. Maybe you need to exhaust your powers a little–practice, push yourself in a safe space so you can figure out where the edges are. Then maybe…” You paused mid-sentence, reaching up to him to push his hair off his forehead, “You won’t have to worry about breaking any more windows.” He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling your fingertips trailing down the side of his face to hold his jaw.

“Or…” You added thoughtfully, “We could try some small exercises together. I know there are grounding techniques for people with telekinesis or energy-based mutations–things to help hone it and redirect it before it builds up too much.”

Bob was staring at you now like you were the only stable piece of land in a world that kept shaking under his feet. You ran your thumb along the slight roughness of his jaw, taking in the warmth of his skin.

“Either way,” You said, “We can figure it out together.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“Together,” He repeated, almost like he was testing the weight of the suggestion in his mouth, making sure it was real. His hands gripped you just a little tighter, like he didn’t want to let go, admiring the fact that you were even sticking it out with him.

“And maybe next time,” You whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You’ll crack something a little less expensive.”

That made him laugh for real this time–a breathy, bashful sound as he rested his forehead against yours. “No more windows,” He whispered. “I promise.” You swayed in your spot for a moment relishing in the silence, as your hearts thudded against each other like it shared the same rhythm.

“…Maybe just the bedframe,” He mumbled a second later–so quietly you almost missed it.

There was a pause.

Then his eyes went wide, his entire face lighting up scarlet as the implication hit him a split second too late. “Oh my god,” He breathed, “I didn’t mean—shit—I mean I did but I—”

You broke into laughter, the sound bursting out of you like sunlight, catching yourself against his chest as your shoulders shook. “Robert Reynolds,” You gasped through your giggles, “I didn’t take you as a person to make a sex joke like that…I like it.”

——————

Yelena snapped her fingers in front of your face.

”Helloooo? Earth to Y/N…You’ve been zoned out for like ten minutes, are you concussed or something?” You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your trance, noticing your palms were sweaty, and your pulse was pounding in your head.

”Sorry…I’m fine, I was just thinking about that last round in my head. Trying to figure out how I let my ass hit the mat again.” You lied, grabbing your water bottle, attempting to cool yourself down.

”Uh-huh…” Yelena muttered, clearly not buying it.

Bucky was watching you as well, his expression unreadable as usual, his elbow still propped on his knee. His eyes were sharper now, completely focused.

”Maybe we should wrap it up for the day, I’ve got to go pick up a few things from my old apartment anyways, the renters are getting mad that I haven’t swung by yet.” You looked over at Yelena, who stretched her legs out with a low groan.

“Alright, that sounds fine to me.” She responded, getting up from the bench, cracking her neck before walking to the lockers, leaving you and Bucky alone. You let out a soft exhale, grateful that the plug had been pulled. You were too distracted to go for another round anyways.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You glanced up at Bucky, your eyes meeting his gaze. There was no judgement in his face, just quiet concern. You nodded.

”Yeah, I promise, I just spaced out.” He watched you for just a moment longer, like he was trying to see if you had any tells of a lie.

”Alright,” He said, turning to grab his towel from the bench, “But if you ever want to talk, you know where I am.” You gave him a soft smile.

”Thanks, Buck.” He lingered for a second longer, then gave a quick salute and headed off after Yelena, leaving you alone. You stayed on the bench for a few minutes, gathering your thoughts and swatting around the brain fog that clouded your mind, before finally standing, feeling your muscles groan in protest.

You collected your things and caught a quick shower before making your way back to your room, expecting to divulge the line of questioning that Yelena had for you to Bob, but when you opened the door he wasn’t there. Your brows furrowed in disappointment as you stepped into the room, noticing a little note on his bed. You dropped your bag on the floor, picking up the scrap piece of paper that had his messy handwriting scrawled on it.

“Meet me on the roof, wear a sweater.” You were confused about the sweater part, but you still dug around for one, slipping it over your head once you found one that wasn’t already worn.

———

The rooftop greeted you with silence, except for the low hum of wind and the muffled buzz of distant traffic below. You stepped out slowly, your sweater wrapped tight around your arms, the door clicking shut behind you.

Bob was already there, standing near the edge, hunched slightly, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders curled in like he was bracing against the cold—or maybe against himself. The soft yellow glow from the rooftop security lights carved gentle shadows across his back, catching in his wind blown hair.

“You okay?” You called out, walking towards him, gaining his attention instantly. A small smile came up on his lips, as he wrung his hands together, like he was excited about something.

“I am now,” He responded, meeting you halfway. There was something different about him tonight, he still had that shy uncertainty about him, but it was like he was pushing it off a bit, replacing it with something more…Confident, “I wanted to show you something, if that’s alright of course.” He added stepping into your space, now close enough that his breath was fanning over your face. You tilted your head at him, squinting playfully.

”Are you going to crack all the windows from up here?” Bob let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking his head as a pink flush creeped up the sides of his neck.

”I promised you I wouldn’t break any more windows, and I will keep my word.” Before you could press further, he stepped closer, closing the last inch of space between you, wrapping his arms tightly around your back. It wasn’t hurried or anything, just grounding, and it was done with intention. You inhaled against his chest, the scent of cold air and warm cotton surrounding you as he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to your lips–soft, and gentle, yet brimming with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He pulled back for one moment, before adding one more peck against your lips, a smile draped across his mouth.

His arms hadn’t loosened around you, and you could feel the steady thumping of his heart under your hands where they rested against his chest.

”Okay…” You murmured, brows lifting at him, feeling your cheeks growing hot under his stare, and from the gentle kiss he had given you, “Now you really need to tell me what’s got you in such a chipper mood. You’re smiling like you’ve got a secret, and it’s starting to freak me out.” Bob’s grin widened–shy, crooked, but deeply earnest. You squinted at him a bit, catching little flecks of gold sparkling in the blues of his eyes.

”Just hold still,” He whispered, voice hushed and warm, “And I’ll show you.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he tightened his arms around you, like he was locking you into place against his chest.

Then you felt it.

A strange, delicate lift in your stomach, similar to how it feels when you’re descending on a roller coaster, only just a little more tolerable. The pressure in your knees disappeared, your weight lessened…And your boots weren’t on the rooftop anymore.

”Bob…?” You said, your voice filling with panic.

”Shh, I’ve got you,” He murmured, eyes fixating on yours, “Just trust me.” He whispered. You took in a sharp breath, and nodded. The movement wasn’t fast or jarring. It felt like being exhaled by the Earth–like rising through a warm, invisible current. The wind tugged gently at your sweater, and your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively brought yourself even closer to him, not daring to look down to see how high up you were.

“Holy shit Bob, we’re flying…” You said, your voice shaking, caught between fear and awe.

”Well technically I’m flying, and you’re just one of my lucky passengers. My first and only to be exact.” He corrected jokingly, you smirked at him, continuing to look over his face. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, as the air around you thickened, warming against your cheeks despite the altitude change. You felt like you were suspended in a dream–held against him, hundreds of feet off the ground, with only starlight above you, and a glittering city below.

“How does it feel?” You asked softly, seeing Bob blink down at you, eyes soft and uncertain, “To have all this power…” You added, your hand slowly unraveling from holding onto his hoodie, splaying it across his chest instead, rubbing along the warmth with a soft smile draped on your lips, “To be able to do this–to lift me off the ground, to break windows without touching them, to float above the world like it’s nothing…” The way you looked up at him–half curious, half lust driven–made something buzz in his bloodstream, something golden and chaotic, and desperate for attention as he felt your fingers trailing up the side of his neck.

Bob swallowed thickly, his arms tightening around your waist even more, his breath hitching as he let out a faint nervous laugh before glancing down at you, seeing your face glowing softly from the city lights that reflected in your eyes.

”It’s…Intense. I constantly have this noise in my head, like it’s trying to break out, and I’m always on edge trying to suppress it…But when you’re around, and you’re able to block it…I have those moments of peace, and I love it…So much Y/N.” He emphasized, as your fingers curled gently into the collar of his hoodie, while your other hand cupped his jaw, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

”You know…I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” You whispered, your voice nearly lost in the hush of the night, “The way you handle everything, the way you care about being gentle, the way you hold back even when you could easily just let go…” You went on, looking up at him with such admiration it made him gulp down the lump that was forming in his throat, “You’re just incredible Bob…And I wish you believed that more often.” Bob’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, like he needed to steady himself from the weight of your words, and when he opened them again, they shimmered with something so raw and fragile it made your heart ache.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before,” He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it, just disbelief. “It feels like…You’re seeing someone I want to be. Someone I wish I was.” You reached up with your other hand now, pressing it against his cheek.

”You already are.” You whispered, a soft smile coming up onto your lips, as your eyes trailed over his face.

Bob leaned forward, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warming your skin as it mingled with the air that kissed your face. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, he just held you close, taking in the night for what it was giving him so far. His fingers twitched against your lower back, like he was trying to figure out what he was going to say next.

“Can I ask you something…Kind of dumb?” Your lips quirked at his words, blinking up at him.

”There’s no dumb questions…Go ahead and ask.” He let out a nervous breath of a laugh, pulling his forehead off yours so he could get a better look at you, shaking his head a bit as if he was trying to psych himself up.

”I’ve been…Thinking for the past couple of days…And if it’s too soon or too much just–just tell me okay? I can handle it, I promise.” He started, stuttering through his words.

”Okay, “ You whispered, already feeling your heart climbing into your throat, seeing the way he looked at you with such hope, terror, and utter sincerity. He glanced away for a second, feeling his cheeks flushing hot.

“I was wondering if maybe–if it’s something you’d want–if I could, um…” He cleared his throat, then bit the inside of his cheek, finally whispering, “If I could make love to you tonight.” When the words fell from his mouth it felt like the sky was going to split open and swallow him whole, but he meant every word he said, and you could tell it was something that he wanted to make sure you wanted as well.

”I’ve been wanting to ask that for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin anything or scare you off, or…” His voice faded, as he stopped himself from embarrassing himself any further, “God, I sound like an idiot.” He whispered. You shook your head, cradling his face in your hands, gently tilting his head down so you could look into those soft blue eyes.

”Bob…” You whispered, “You don’t sound like an idiot at all…You sound like someone who cares about me. A lot.” His lips parted like he wanted to protest, but the words never came. You leaned in, brushing your nose against his, “And that’s never something to be ashamed of.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as he trembled from the gust of wind that blew by the both of you, and from the nerves that prickled throughout his body.

”I just…” He started, swallowing another lump that began to form in his throat, feeling like he was on the brink of tears, “I’ve never done it like this before…Where it actually means something…Where I feel…So much that it scares the crap out of me.” You pressed your lips together tightly, removing one of your hands from his face.

”Hold me with one arm, I want you to give me one of your hands.” You instructed, and he obliged immediately, keeping you flush against him and giving you his other hand like you requested. You took it and brought it to your chest, laying it gently over your heart.

”Do you feel that?” You whispered, watching him nod slowly, his palm splaying flat over the pounding rhythm the shook the cavity of your chest, “That’s how I feel when I look at you…When you smile at me, when you hold me…When you ask me things like this, with all these nerves going through you…And that’s also how I’m going to feel when we make love tonight.” You added, feeling Bob’s breath hitch in his throat, and for a second he didn’t move. You thought you put him into shock, but then his fingers curled ever so slightly against your skin, like he was tethering himself to you.

”I wanna be good for you.” He replied, his voice breaking around the edges, “I want to be everything you deserve…I want to take my time…I want to see what you look like when you fall apart because of me, and I want to memorize every sound you make and every place you like to be touched and–and I want to hold you through all of it.” Your eyes softened at his words, feeling your heart folding at the edges from the way he said it with such trembling devotion, like he was offering you everything he had without knowing if it would be enough for you.

”I wouldn’t want it any other way Bob…” He breathed out slowly like he’d been holding it for minutes, like your answer reached someplace deep inside him he didn’t know was waiting to be filled. A small, shaky smile tugged at his lips.

“Okay,” He whispered. “Okay.”

You felt his arms shift, the weight of the wind returning to your skin, and together—slow and gentle—you began to drift back down. The city lights rose to meet you, the rooftop coming back into focus beneath your boots. He didn’t let go. Not even once. His hand stayed tucked between your shoulder blades, warm and steady, like he didn’t trust gravity alone to carry you safely.

The moment your feet touched solid ground again, you didn’t speak. You just stood there for a second, forehead still brushing his, eyes locked and dazed with something fragile and full and beautiful. And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed–it wasn’t even desperate…It was just full. Full of promise. Of understanding. Of anticipation humming low in both your bellies. His hand cupped the side of your face so delicately it made your knees weaken, and when he pulled back, you didn’t have to say a word. You just reached for his fingers and laced yours through them.

“Come inside with me,” You said quietly.

And he followed instantly.

————

You left the light on before you went up to the roof, so when the both of you stepped into your shared quarters, the soft yellow hue of the lamp greeted you with open arms and warmed your skin almost instantly.

Bob closed the door behind him with a soft click, the quiet thud echoing between your beds like a held breath. You stepped into the space between them, turning to face him slowly, your hands sliding up to push your hair from your face. His eyes followed the motion, catching every shift of your body like he didn’t want to miss a second, his fingers fumbling with the edge of his hoodie.

“H-How do you want to start?” He asked quietly, his voice threadbare with nerves. All confidence from the roof had dwindled pretty quickly once the reality of the situation really settled in, and now he could feel his chest tightening from the thought of what was going to come next. You could see it in the way he fumbled with whatever he could get his fingers on, it was the most obvious tell of his. You stepped toward him carefully, and held your hand out like you normally did with him.

”Come here,” You whispered. Bob didn’t hesitate this time around, taking a few steps towards you until you could curl your fingers around the hem of his hoodie, slipping your hands under the soft fabric so you could touch his burning skin. His jaw clenched for a moment at first contact, his lashes fluttering at the featherlight touch you always used with him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, letting out a shaky breath against your mouth.

”We don’t have to start any particular way,” You murmured, “Just be here with me…” Bob gave a slow, trembling nod, bringing his hands to your waist. You leaned forward a bit, pressing your lips against his, taking his breath away in one quick moment of time. You could feel his shoulders loosen a little, as he sighed into you, his fingers squeezing your clothed flesh gently, pulling your body closer to his. You broke the kiss first, removing your sweater quickly because you were growing warm extremely quickly, just like Bob you ran hot, but only when you were anticipating something, and this was definitely something you were looking forward to.

You threw the sweater to the side with a sigh, pushing your hair out of your face again as you adjusted yourself, seeing Bob’s eyes following your movements, and tracing over the skin that was revealed to him. The light camisole you wore hugged your figure just enough that he could make out the subtle shape of your breasts beneath it, and in the dimmed hue of the room he could see the way your nipples pebbled against the fabric. Before he could even stop himself, his fingers curled under the hem of the covering.

”Can I…?” His voice trailed off, looking down at you with dazed eyes. You nodded immediately, raising your arms up slightly, feeling the way he peeled the fabric up gently, wanting to drink in every inch of newly exposed skin. He slipped the camisole off you, throwing it to the side to join your sweater now, as his eyes returned to your bare chest.

For a second, it was like he didn’t breathe. His mouth parted slightly, and a stunned silence stretched between you before he managed to snap himself out of the trance your breasts had put him in, clearing his throat.

”You’re so…Beautiful. I mean–I already told you that, but seeing you like this–“ He cut himself off, looking down at himself, flustered, “Makes me feel overdressed.” You let out a small giggle, seeing the blush that crowded his face turn an even deeper red.

”Definitely overdressed.” You agreed, keeping your tone light, coaxing a nervous laugh from him. He ducked his head with a shy huff of breath, his hair falling into his eyes.

”S-Sorry. Didn’t mean to get ahead of myself, I just–“

“Hey,” You interrupted, reaching up to cup his face with both hands, forcing his gaze to stay on yours–his pupils already blown out from seeing your bare chest– as you ran your thumbs along his cheeks, “It’s okay…I like when you know what you want and ask for it. I also don’t mind being underdressed in front of you anyways. You don’t have to apologize, okay?” His lashes fluttered at you, as the tension in his shoulders melted just a little.

“Okay…” He whispered back, giving you a small nod, glancing down at himself. He pulled away from your touch, and with shaky hands, he reached for the zipper of his hoodie, tugging it down before peeling the garment off his arms and shoulders, letting it land in the soft pile of clothes that began to grow at your feet. You watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as he hesitated for only a second more before pulling his plain grey t-shirt off as well, letting it join the abyss below.

The second the fabric cleared his torso, your hands were on him–warm palms pressing against bare skin, tracing up along his ribs and over the planes of his chest, feeling the muscles contract beneath your touch, before bringing them up to rest at his neck. You pulled him down to you, fingers curling into his hair gently, as his lips met yours. The kiss this time was deeper–hungrier and desperate. He opened his mouth to you, feeling your tongue slip in, as your bodies aligned with each other again.

His hand slid up along your side, tracing over your ribs, until it found the curve of your breast, cupping it gently within his large palm. You let out a small moan of approval, your hips shifting slightly at the sensation and shivers that twinged up your spine. His thumb dragged over your nipple, circling it slowly before giving the flesh a soft and careful squeeze, not wanting to be too rough at first, drawing out a hum from you, and another gentle pull of his hair.

Bob pulled away from the kiss with a shaky smile, before peppering kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, carving out a wet path all the way to your chest, going to the breast that he wasn’t kneading with his hand still. His lips brushed over your nipple, testing, and teasing, waiting until you leaned toward him to close his mouth around it. A soft moan escaped the both of you, his breath warm and uneven against your skin as he sucked gently, his tongue moving in slow circles before fluttering along the peak. His other hand continued to palm and knead the other one, fingers teasing until both nipples were stiff beneath his attention. He switched sides, not wanting to neglect the other one, which earned another shocked gasp, feeling how more needy he was growing as he greedily sucked and nibbled. Your fingers laced deeper into his hair, trying to ground yourself when you felt your stomach somersaulting from the sensation of his tongue and mouth working in tandem together. Your words spilled out before you could really think–

“Jesus, Bob…” The moment you spoke he froze, pulling off your nipple with a soft, wet pop, lips shiny and slightly parted as he looked up at you. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes–God, his eyes–were wide and hazy, like he was drunk on you and the taste of your skin.

“Are…Are you okay?” You nodded immediately.

”More than okay.” You replied, as your fingers slid out from his hair to trail down his chest, moving with slow precision as you found the tie at the waistband of his sweatpants, keeping your gaze locked on his. You made quick work of it, undoing the knot in one swift pull before pushing at the fabric so it shifted down his hips, exposing more and more skin to you. He straightened up a little, taking his hand off your breast to push them off his legs completely, kicking them off to the side before mirroring your actions–going for your sweatpants too.

He bent down slightly to push them down your legs, and you took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from him, catching him off guard. The both of you broke into soft laughter, easing your nerves a bit. Once the sweatpants hit the ground you kicked them off your feet, letting them be banished with the rest of your clothes.

Now in just your underwear, the air between the both of you was thick with anticipation. Your breathing slowed, and deepend, syncing with his as he took you in–really absorbing every inch of skin he could see, battle wounds and all–his gaze lingering everywhere. You let your gaze fall for a moment, catching the shape of him beneath the soft cotton of his boxers. His erection was unmistakable, full and straining against the fabric, the outline was thick and defined, which made you nervous, but also excited. The image alone sent a pulse through your belly, and made your toes curl.

When you looked back up at him, he wasn’t staring at your body anymore, he was watching your face. His expression was so open, so filled with awe and admiration that it nearly made your breath catch in your chest. He reached out, his fingers gently cupping your jaw, his thumb running over the skin, before leaning in to press another kiss to your lips, savouring the moment with a sigh.

Then, without saying a word his hand slipped from your face and slid around your back, while his other arm slid under your thighs, lifting you to him with ease. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carried you the short distance to his bed, throwing the duvet down to the foot of the bed, before lowering you down onto the cool sheets, letting the mattress form around your figure, pushing you up a bit so he could get on top of you.

Bob settled between your thighs with the softest exhale, like he was afraid to ruin the moment by moving too quickly. His knees sank into the mattress, feeling the way your legs guided him closer to you. His hands remained gentle–one braced beside your head, the other holding the side of your hip, absentmindedly tracing circles along it with his thumb.

You tilted your face up to him, and he dipped his head to meet your lips once again. The kiss was slower this time, deep with care and tenderness. You kissed him back with the heat of a thousand suns, your fingers slipping into his hair, pulling him a little closer as your body arched up into his. His hand on your hip drifted up your side, tickling your ribs with the ghosts of his fingertips, letting the intimacy of the moment wrap around you like a second skin.

Then, he pulled back slightly, just far enough to look at you–eyes searching, lips still parted, breath uneven against your mouth. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing idly over your ribs before he finally spoke.

”I-I want to go down on you,” He said quietly, as if the words were sacred to him. His voice was shaky, but you could tell it was just from the nerves that were pulsing through him in those moments, “I want to…Take care of you first…Want to show you how much I’ve been thinking about this…How much I’ve been thinking about you…If that’s okay?” Your heart thudded so loudly in your chest you swore he could hear it. The look on his face–open, vulnerable–was enough to make your breath catch. His words wrapped around you with such warmth that it rooted deep in your body.

You reached up, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as you whispered.

”That’s more than okay.” He swallowed hard, and then nodded, giving you a small kiss, before drifting down your skin, his lips reaching every inch of you, peppering wet little marks across you, committing every detail to memory. Your hands drifted to his shoulders, brushing across the solid muscles of his back. He kissed your chest, then your ribs, all the way until he reached the edge of your underwear. He paused, lifting his gaze to yours again, just to be sure.

You gave him a small nod, watching his fingers hook under the fabric. He pulled the fabric down your hips, and thighs, as you helped him by pulling each leg out for him. He let out a sigh, looking at your completely bare figure beneath him now, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth for a brief moment before returning to where he was moments ago, putting your legs over his shoulders.

Bob leaned forward, brushing his mouth along your inner thigh, peppering kisses along the skin, memorizing the taste of your skin, inching closer and closer to where you needed him the most. By the time he reached your core, you could feel your whole body pulsing against him, thrumming with anticipation and desperation.

When he finally brought his mouth to your core, he slowly licked upwards, wanting to savour the first time he got to actually taste you. The feeling of it caught you off guard, which drew a soft moan from your lips–broken and boarding on a whimper. His hands tightened at your thighs, holding you closer to him as he licked you again–more firmly this time–his tongue parting you gently, working up to circle around your clit without touching it quite yet. You closed your eyes tightly, reaching down to lace into his soft brown strands of hair. You could feel his eyes on you, watching every reaction that he coaxed out of you. When his mouth finally closed around your clit, your fingers in his hair tightened, hips rolling into him with a gasp.

“F-Fuck…Bob.” You choked out, and that was all he needed.

He groaned softly in response–just hearing your voice sounding so wrecked like that almost destroyed him–and he settled deeper between your thighs. He dragged his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes, curling it just right at the tip, then flicking it softly against you until your legs trembled around him. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently, then swirling his tongue with practiced rhythm, giving you just enough then pulling back slightly to tease again, letting you chase the pressure.

Your back arched off the bed slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

”You…Holy fuck Bob…” You whined, not being able to find the words in your vocabulary because your brain was melting from the intense pressure that was building in your stomach. The way you said his name had him clutching at your thighs tighter, grounding himself as he buried his face against you more, like a man starved. He moaned softly, sending another wave of heat through your core, the vibration making you gasp. His tongue flicked, circled, and flattened, lavishing you with such deliberate devotions which drew you closer and closer to the edge.

He shifted slightly, and took one of his hands off your hip, bringing it between your thighs as he adjusted his other hand so it was splayed out along your belly. He traced his fingers through your wetness, dragging two of them along your entrance, teasing for just a second before gently slipping them inside. You bit your lip, suppressing a moan as you looked down at him, seeing how focused he was on pleasing you, his eyes glistening with such intensity that you felt like you were going to die.

His fingers moved slowly at first, letting you adjust to the slight stretch they provided, before curling them slightly, finding the spot inside you that made your back arch off the bed, crying out as your legs tightened around his head. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, he just groaned again, like your pleasure was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Oh my god–Bob–Bob please don’t stop…Don’t stop.” You begged, your voice breathless, and trembling on every syllable. Your fingers gripped his hair even tighter, as you felt the orgasm cresting with a pressure so intense it stole the air from your lungs. Your body was unraveling, and your muscles were tightening like a wire drawn taut. He felt it–he felt the way your walls began to pulse around his fingers, the way your hips started to jerk–and he doubled down, curling his fingers harder, sucking your clit in time with your shattering moans.

“Come for me,” He whispered against you, voice wrecked, barely audible but so sure. “Please. I want to feel it.” You broke apart beneath him with a cry, your thighs clamping around his head as your body seized, pleasure rocketing through you in waves so intense they left your limbs shaking. Your core pulsed around his fingers, your back arching off the mattress as you rode out the release, breath stuttering through sobs of ecstasy.

Bob held you through it, fingers still moving slowly inside you as his mouth gently eased off, switching to open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, grounding you, kissing you through the aftershocks. He watched your body tremble beneath him, his own breath ragged with awe.

Finally, when you dropped back onto the mattress with a long, shaky sigh, he pulled his fingers from you slowly, kissing your hip one more time before crawling up over your body. His skin was flushed, his mouth was wet and glistening with your arousal, and his eyes were glazed and dark with want–but there was so much tenderness in his face that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, before pulling back to caress your cheek, his thumb running just below your eye.

”Are you okay? Did I–“ You cupped his face, and pulled him back down to you, kissing him again, interrupting the words that were about to fall out of his mouth. He let a soft moan against your lips, before you slowly pulled back.

”You did…Absolutely amazing Bob. So fucking amazing.” Bob’s breath hitched the moment you said it, and you watched the praise ripple through him like a tide, flooding his expression with something raw and deeply earnest. He looked almost overwhelmed, like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of affirmation, but he was appreciative of it regardless.

You gave him a second to breathe, brushing his hair back gently from his flushed forehead as he hovered over you, gaze still fixed on your face like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Then you tilted your head toward his ear, your voice soft and steady.

“My turn.”

Bob blinked, his lips parting slightly. “Y-You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” You cut him off gently, placing your palms on his chest and guiding him down onto his back. “I really want to.”

He let you maneuver him without resistance, collapsing onto the pillows as you crawled over him, straddling his thighs with slow, deliberate movements that kept his eyes trained on you. Your fingers trailed down his torso, grazing the firm lines of his chest and stomach, watching as his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

When you shifted lower, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, he let out a sharp breath.

“Wait—” He said quickly, sitting up on one elbow, using his other hand to catch your wrist. “I–shit–I want you to just–just use your hands, okay?” You blinked at him, a little surprised by the request and the sudden interruption.

“Why?” You asked gently. His face flushed harder, eyes dropping to the sheets for a second before he met your gaze again, voice low and a little sheepish.

”Because I’m gonna end up finishing too fast if you use your mouth..And I don’t want to finish unless it’s inside you.” He admitted, his breath unsteady. Your thighs flinched at his words, leaving you staggered. You weren’t expecting it, not from him. Not from soft-spoken, anxious, stammering Bob…But then again he had just given you the best orgasm in the world…So he did have a bit more of a wilder side to him that evidently he only reserved for you at this point.

”…Okay.” You whispered, leaning in to kiss him once more, before easing down his body again. Your fingers curled into the waistband of his boxers, and you eased them down his hips, eyes never leaving his as you exposed him to the cool air. His cock was thick and flushed, twitching slightly with need, already glistening at the tip with precum. The sight of him made your mouth go dry, and your stomach turn. You wrapped your fingers around him slowly, watching the way his jaw tightened at your touch, his head falling back against the pillow with a soft moan. Your hand moved in slow, steady strokes, twisting gently at the tip, your palm slick from how worked up he already was.

“Oh…Oh god you’re going to ruin me.” He rasped, breathlessly. You leaned over him, your free hand braced against his chest as you shifted to straddle his thighs properly. The weight of you over him made his eyes flutter open again. His hands went to your hips, as if just having you there made him feel steadier. Then without warning, he looked up at you with glassy eyes and spoke.

“C-Can I sit up against the headboard?” His voice was rough with need, but still gentle—like he didn’t want to disrupt the closeness, only deepen it.

You nodded immediately, helping guide him as he adjusted, both of you moving slowly so nothing between you was rushed. You cradled his shoulders as he shifted upward, his back settling against the cold wood of the headboard with a relieved exhale. The lamp’s soft glow painted his chest in gold, and his hair was a little messy from where your fingers had run through it, his mouth still parted as he looked at you with awe.

You straddled his lap again, keeping one hand wrapped around the base of him as he pulled you closer again. His head tilted forward and he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, lips finding your breast again like he needed it, sucking gently over the flesh, making sure to leave a mark before pausing to let his breath fan across your skin. All the while, your hand kept moving—slow, slick, steady. You felt him throb in your palm, the heat of him pulsing like a second heartbeat. You could hear him panting, but he didn’t tell you to stop, so you continued until he pulled back from your chest completely, his pupils blown wide with something molten in his expression.

”Y/N, spit in my mouth…” He whispered, “I want all of you…I want everything. I want you in every part of me…Please.” He added, his voice on the edge of a whimper. Your breath caught at his words, not from surprise or shock but from the vulnerability the words had to them. His need wasn’t crude…It was devotional, like it was the only way he knew how to show you how dedicated he was.

You nodded once, slowly, with your eyes locked on his. Your free hand came up to cradle his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly beneath his eye before gently tilting his head back, exposing his throat to you. He kept his gaze on you, wide-eyed and trembling as you leaned over him, still stroking his cock while doing so.

With your lips parted and breath warm, you let a slow, steady thread of saliva slip from your mouth–down past his lips and onto his waiting tongue. He didn’t flinch, he just accepted it with a shuddering breath, swallowing it right when it made contact. A flush bloomed even more across his neck and chest. You smiled down at him, seeing how satisfied he looked. He took a deep breath, then surged forward, one arm wrapping around your waist as he kissed you, open and warm, with his lips parting against yours like he wanted to thank you with his whole body.

You deepened the kiss, your chest pressing flush to his as he held you in his lap, the heat of his body radiating against yours like a shell. His hands roamed over your back, your waist, everywhere he could reach, but it wasn’t frantic—it was gentle and slow, like he was memorizing you by feeling alone. And then you pulled back, just enough to speak, your lips barely brushing his.

“I need you inside me.”

The words left you in a whisper, but they hit him like a lightning strike. Bob’s breath stuttered, and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours—glazed, dazed, and swimming in something so deep it made your spine curl. He nodded, a little frantic, the motion jerky as he grasped at your hips again, steadying you, grounding himself.

“You sure?” He asked, drawing his brows together, his voice hoarse, wanting to be sure you were on board with this completely. You nodded, kissing him one more time.

”Never been more sure.” You adjusted your hips with care, steadying yourself as you guided him to your entrance, the tip of him hot and slick against you. Bob’s breath hitched, his fingers flexing hard at your waist as he tried to hold himself still, trying not to rush you. You watched his jaw tense, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you slowly began to sink down onto him, inch by inch, until he filled you completely.

The stretch made your thighs tremble and your breath catch, and Bob let out a strangled groan that vibrated through his whole chest. His head fell back against the headboard with a soft thump, eyes fluttering closed as he murmured something that sounded like your name paired with the words oh my God. You sat there a moment, your hands planted on his chest, letting your bodies adjust, feeling the twitch of him inside you, the way he was already pulsing with restraint.

And then you began to move.

It was slow at first, just the tiniest grind of your hips forward and back, your slick heat stroking along his length. His eyes cracked open, dazed and glassy, like he couldn’t believe this was real. He brought his hands to your hips, guiding you gently, letting you take what you needed at your own pace, and in your own way.

You moved together like a heartbeat–slow, steady, with increasing intensity.

Bob’s hands slid up your back, then down again to cup your ass, helping you ride him deeper, pushing you just enough to make your breath hitch with every descent. His moans became more frequent, low and helpless against your skin, and he whispered your name like a prayer, again and again, until it bled into the rhythm of your bodies.

“God–you feel so good–so so good,” he rasped against your neck. “I don’t think I can–oh shit–”

Your hips were moving faster now, desperation threading into every motion. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your quiet moans, and his ragged breathing. You felt like you were both on fire—burning, blindingly alive.

And then, suddenly, Bob shifted.

Without warning, he gripped your thighs and flipped you, your back hitting the mattress with a gasp. Before you could say anything, he was there—above you—sliding back into you in one fluid, aching thrust. You cried out, your hands gripping his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, pulling him in closer.

Bob moaned softly, burying his face into your neck as his hips snapped forward with more force now, losing the gentle rhythm he had from before, exchanging it for something deeper, and more primal. One of his hands found yours and squeezed it tight, pressing it against the pillow beside your head, while the other shot out grip the headboard so he could brace himself.

And then the sound hit.

CRACK.

You barely registered it at first–you were too lost in the crescendo building inside your body, the way he filled you so perfectly, the way your name fell from his lips like he was worshiping you with every thrust. But his body shuddered on top of you, his hips jerking erratically now, the pace stuttering as he reached the edge.

“Oh God–God–Y/N–”

He moaned loudly, something close to a gasp punched from his lungs as his hips slammed into you one final time, and his whole body locked up. His hand crushed the top of the headboard–literally splintering the wood under his palm as he came inside you with a broken, breathless cry. You felt the wave of it, the way he pulsed deep inside, the warmth of him spilling into you, and it sent you hurtling over the edge too, your climax crashing through your limbs like a wave snapping every nerve awake. You cried out beneath him, your nails dragging down his back, your body seizing around him.

Bob collapsed, trembling, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot and wild against your collarbone. His hair was a complete mess, damp and tangled and wild across your skin. He was heavy and shaking, still buried inside you, both of you locked in the aftermath–too breathless to speak. You could feel his heart pounding against you–where his chest was pressed against yours.

Then slowly, you felt him lift his head from your shoulder, his cheeks a complete crimson now, lips parted as he gazed down at you with those shimmering blue eyes again, like he was trying to comprehend what just happened.

In those moments he leaned forward and kissed you, like he was saying thank you, or maybe he was trying to determine if this really was happening. You kissed him back with the same softness he gave you, your fingers pushing his hair back from his face. He sighed, and pulled back from your lips, his gaze raising slightly. You could see his mouth drop open slightly, and his eyes went wide.

”…What?” You asked, your brows drawing together in confusion. He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently reached up and tilted your chin, guiding your gaze upward–and that’s when you saw it.

A clean, jagged split ran right down the center of the wooden headboard. Splintered and cracked like lightning had struck it from above. Your mouth parted in shock, and for a beat neither of you said anything.

Then you laughed.

It started soft–with disbelief and surprise–but quickly turned into full, breathless giggles that made your body shake. Bob buried his face in your neck again, groaning quietly.

“At least we still have my bed to move to,” You teased, stroking his hair to calm him down from the embarrassment he was probably feeling. “But maybe we should…I don’t know…Get things that don’t break so easily?”

Bob groaned again into your skin, and you could hear the shy smile behind it. “Y-Yeah…Yeah, maybe,” He mumbled, barely audible.

You could feel the heat creeping back into his cheeks.

“Though…” He added after a pause, voice muffled and sheepish, “If sex is always gonna be like that… I-I don’t think it’ll matter what it’s made of…” You smirked, pushing him off his shoulder so you could look at him–and the adorable way he immediately avoided your gaze. Your heart swelled.

“Sounds like a good time to me,” You whispered, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead before pressing a kiss to it.

Eventually, you cleaned yourselves up, and shifted to your bed, sliding in under the fresh sheets, tucking yourselves into each other. Bob curled around you protectively, your bodies bare and warm together, with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, nose buried into your hair. You fell asleep like that–saturated in the safety of each other, breath syncing, hearts still fluttering.

——————

The morning sunlight slipped gently into the room, illuminating the soft gold glow of the lamp you’d forgotten to turn off.

You were the first to stir.

Bob’s arms were still locked around you, holding you like he thought you might disappear. You turned in his embrace, resting your palm against his chest, letting your fingers trace lazy circles along his sternum, and the little scars that he had around that area that were barely noticeable. His eyes fluttered open not long after, blinking slowly until they found yours.

“Morning,” You whispered.

“Hi…” He whispered back, his voice gravelly from, as one hand moved to push your hair out of your face with the backs of his fingers. “You’re still here.”

You smiled. “Of course I am.”

He returned a smile back to you, cupping your cheek gently before leaning in to kiss you–sleepy and sweet, his soft lips barely moving, while his nose brushed against yours. He pulled back slowly, letting his thumb trace your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it, with a sweet smirk.

”I could stay like this forever,” He murmured, trailing his touch down to the side of your neck, taking in the image of you in front of him, making sure he would remember this moment. You tilted your head into his hand, staring up at him with your heart pounding against your chest.

”Me too.” He grinned, just a little. The kind of grin that was half love-drunk and half processing the events that happened last night, then you remembered what you were going to talk to him about yesterday when you came back to the room, before you found his note.

”Hey I was actually going to tell you something when I came back to the room,” You began, already laughing at the story, seeing the way his attention was on you, hanging off of every word “During training yesterday evening, Yelena and Bucky gave me the third degree abo-“ Just as you were about to tell him you heard Yelena’s voice coming from an already opening door.

”Y/N, missed tra-OH MY GOD! HOLY CRAP!” You jolted, the covers pulling up to your chest as Bob yelped and scrambled to sit up behind you, wide-eyed and clutching the sheets. In the doorway, Yelena stood with her hands over her eyes, then immediately turned and bolted out again.

”I KNEW IT! BUCKY I TOLD YOU!” She yelled. The both of you glanced over at each other.

”…I’m assuming they gave you…The third degree about us?” Bob asked, finishing the sentence you were about to say before the interruption.

“Yeah…” You whispered under your breath, trying to suppress a laugh.

[gigireece16]

my parents

[gtgbabie0]

Him calling for his ‘mummy’ as Alicent was leaving. I’m not well… sick to stomach, curled up in a ball sobbing and screaming.

THAT IS MY HUSBAND!! LOOK WHAT THEY DID!!

[peachysunrize-deactivated202501]

There is no explanation for the people who bodyshamed this body. You guys were jealous cause look at him, look how grabable his waist is.

[axen-gers]

ewan is sooo babygirl too like 😩

[valyrianheirs]

Tom Glynn-Carney | Esquire 2024

This man won't let me sleep. It's not healthy anymore! 🫠

[aemondwhoresworld]

[winterswake]

#peak sibling energy

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

WHAT PROP WOULD YOU TAKE HOME?

— "she's called sue, and she's a good girl."

[barbieaemond]

The most Aegon/Aemond thing ever