1996 / 2021

Sophie Thatcher as NAT SCATORCCIO   Yellowjackets ◆ 2x02 “Edible Complex”

Blue-green colors flashin' I would be your only dream

ah, look at all the lonely people...

🧡Vanessa "Van" Palmer NSFW Alphabet🧡

🧡Read the SFW Alphabet here!🧡

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Warnings: It's all dirty [AFAB Reader/anatomy used]

Word Count: 1,644

A/N: Yall wanted it soooooo bad, so here you go! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!🧡

Vanessa "Van" Palmer Tag List: @blairfox04 @kyleeservopoulos

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-🧡-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Van gets sleepy after sex and will fall asleep if you let her, but she enjoys some mellow intimacy as well when all is said and done. She seems like the type to enjoy a shared shower after sex or just cuddling, maybe even reading 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

That’s a tits woman if I’ve ever seen one. Like, it’s not in an objectifying way by any means, but if she had to pick her favorite part of you that gets her off, it's your boobs. It’s a really common joke of hers to squeeze one without warning and make the stupidest honking sound, and no matter how much you may act like you hate it she knows that you’re lying. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

She loves making you cum. The tight, warm feeling around her fingers and the way you press against her, grabbing at her for support while she makes you feel that way. It always boosts her ego when she can get you going quickly and cumming even quicker. She loves that dopamine smile you give her and how you practically melt like putty in her hands when you finish

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

She’s into primal sort of (though she wouldn't define it that way) but feels guilty about it because it reminds her of how she was in the wilderness. She’s concerned it comes from a place of aggression from her teens and is even more concerned that she could go too far and hurt you in some way. But she loves the feeling of nails leaving white crescent indents on her skin and she tends to bite her hand when you go down on her. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Ms. Plamer is very experienced. She had a very colorful sex life in college (I think she went for a few years but didn’t graduate) and that continued into her adult life.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

She loves pinning you down to the bed while she fingers you and kisses your neck. Her favorite thing is when your wrap your arm around her neck and your hand finds the back of her hair, holding her lips to your neck. She also loves the close-up view of your face as your eyes squeeze shut and you bite your lip, trying to suppress the sounds you want to make, only to eagerly let them go when she tells you she wants to hear.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

She often attempts at being serious but she naturally jokes in nearly every situation, so it doesn't work out, despite her focus. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Girlfriend is all-natural. She’s never been the type to shave and she enjoys her body hair. She isn’t gonna tell anyone else what to do with their body, but she finds it strange when people actively talk about body hair like it’s a negative thing

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

In an established relationship she’s all about romance, but kinda in a jobing way? Like, she of course loves you, and she's not making fun of that, not ever, but she does make fun of those sex scenes in those corny romance movies play out (you know, the ones she insists she doesn’t like but always ends up sticking around for). She’s the type to reference one of those scenes while getting intimate with you if you watched one recently because she knows that a cheesy oneliner is guaranteed to make you laugh, and that's what makes it intimate for her. She loves making you laugh because no one can do it the way she can, and no one else gets to hear that laugh slipping past your lips as they’re pressed against hers as she does. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

If she feels the need or desire to masturbate, she prefers getting off with her hands and knows what she’s doing but she doesn’t do it all that often. She’d rather have her needs met with another person over masturbating if given the choice

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Again, primal. But she doesn’t call it that because let’s face it, she’s not in on modern lingo in general, but especially not kink lingo. Other than that she’s not that kinky in my opinion. Sure, she likes being dominant, but not in a bdsm way. She prefers things more on the vanilla side compared to what some of the other girls might be into shall we say

L = Location (favorite places to do they do)

Not a location, but she loves morning sex, especially in the spring and summer when it’s warm and you wake up with the window open and the breeze coming in. She likes kissing you awake and seeing that pretty smile of yours dripping with sleep as you greet her with a horse, underused whispery voice that eventually turns into breathy moans and whimpers once she gets the go-ahead for her favorite activity. She also loves cooking breakfast after because you’re extra clingy with her

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Exposed skin. Something about you out in public wearing something that shows off just a little extra of the goods she’s used to getting her extra excited if she’s in the mood. Going swimming together is the absolute worst though because once you're home her hands are all over you, insisting that you both need a shower.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Ignore the words “no” or “stop”. Some people are into that and have a different safe word, but the second she hears either one she’s stopping everything she’s doing and insisting that you tell her what she did wrong so she can fix it and that’s completely nonnegotiable. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She prefers giving just bc she’s a giving person, but she just loves eating out and she’s extremely talented at it. She likes smiling up at you when she’s done with a stupid grin and shiny chin. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast because she likes getting her reward, but she’s very gentle about it. She’s not gonna edge you unless you explicitly ask because she’s far too driven to get you to the finish line naturally

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not big on quickies. Maybe in the morning before opening the store, but she’d rather wait and have more time with you than take a quickie 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

She’s willing to experiment but she’s not keen on it. She’s completely satisfied with a routine sex life

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

With you she can go as many rounds as you like, but if it’s her receiving she gets overstimulated quite easily. She doesn’t like going back to back, so she needs time between orgasm 

T = Toys (do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?)

Not really into toys. She's too hands-on. She likes knowing that every bit of pleasure that you’re feeling is thanks to her rather than a toy. But if you really want to use one, she’ll give it a go. But it’ll never be her idea

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s not a huge tease. She will start teasing, but she's far too eager to keep the act up and prefers getting what she wants over getting you hot and bothered because she knows she can do that much faster than she can from teasing you alone. She’s not good about being teased though. She gets easily frustrated and wants what she wants. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not all that loud. Like, not screaming, but she’s not afraid to make sounds. More of a groaner than a moaner shall we say

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think Van could use marijuana for her own personal pain management for her cancer and sometimes that leads to sex while high, which she loves! But it’s always a lot slower, clumsier, and messier than your regular sex. There's a lot of laughing and getting distracted but it’s always a great time for the both of you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Naturally, a more muscular build because she’s always been very active, and of course body hair + all of her scars. She has both burn scars that have faded quite a bit over time but she’s also got more scars like the ones on her face littered all over. She only says they’re from a dog attack when she was a teenager and nothing more and you don’t question it, though you know it's probably a lie. She finds comfort in the way you’ll run your fingers over her scars though. It reminds her that though the way she earned them might not have been very traditional, they’re still a part of her and her story like every scar is for every person. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not that high. Sex isn’t a requirement for her honestly and it's not something she needs regularly but more like something she enjoys.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

She can fall asleep very quickly if allowed and she falls asleep hard.

hi! i was wondering if you would write something like reader (gn or fem, idk if you want to specify) is jealous and sad because of jon’s close relationship with dany and just like him reassuring them and stuff.

thank you! i love your writing by the way!

before it kills me || jon snow

"Are you jealous?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm afraid. I don't know."

you're jealous of the dragon queen, and it's tearing you up. fem!reader. takes place s8.

Thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took so long!Hope you like it!

masterlist

-----------

You'd always been the jealous type. Not just with lovers, but with friends, and with things, and with luck. When you were a child, you'd stare at the highborn whenever they passed through your village, dressed in silk and plate armor, on shining, well-bred horses. Why them?  You would think. Why them, and not me?

At the Wall, you'd been jealous of Jon at first. He was stronger, and faster, and better trained than you-- that is to say, trained in the first place. You'd been jealous of Sam, who could read, and Grenn, who could ride, and Pyp, who could sing. It had faded, of course, and you hadn't let it stop you making friends for too long, but still, it was your first instinct. It always had been.

Now, at Winterfell, after years of fighting, and bleeding, and freezing your ass off on the edge of the world, you found yourself jealous again. Not of someone's skill, or weapon, or training, like would be even marginally acceptable for someone of your age. No, you were jealous of a pretty woman, and how much time she spent with Jon Snow. And it was bad.

That fucking Dragon Queen had you pacing. Pacing, and brooding, and biting your nails, and cursing yourself for all of it. You had more important things to be worried about than the affections of Jon Snow, who wasn't yours to be jealous for in the first place. Gods, when did you even start loving him? Maybe you always had. Either way, this was what you got for dancing around him for years-- you hadn't made him yours when you could've, and now, someone better had shown up to whisk him off on dragonback.

Daenerys Stormborn-- First of Her Name,  Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons. The Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of the Andals and the First Men. How could you ever compete with that?

Did you even want to try?

What could you possibly give him that she couldn't? She was inspiring, powerful, and unmatched in beauty. A Targaryen. A gods-damned dragon rider. And you were a bastard girl who cut her hair and became a man of the Watch. Not even a bastard of someone noble and important, like Jon was. Just a Flowers of some Redwyne or Fossoway who's name your mother forgot. Rough, weary, dressed in old black ringmail and scars.

Daenerys dressed in furs and silver.

Didn't he deserve her?

You should have just talked to him. You knew that. But jealousy was an old friend, a familiar pain. It was easy to sink back into. So you let it claw at you for hours, for days, alternatingly ferocious and grieving. It ate you from the inside out and the outside in, made you irritable and anxious and guilty. Distracted. You slipped up on the sparring field. Battle plans went in one ear and out the other. No sleeping position was comfortable anymore, and your jaw ached from constant clenching and grinding your teeth.

Your friends had grown worried. You hadn't let even Davos coax out what was wrong, though you suspected he already knew. You were growing worried too. Fighting the dead would need you at your strongest, and the dull ache in your chest was taking its toll.

You grit your teeth again, and got out of bed. This has got to end. Fuck it if he loved her, if you had been wrong, and all the glances, the stray touches, the so-nearly-kisses that always seemed to get interrupted had all meant nothing to him. At least you'd know, and you'd move on. Or you'd die fighting Walkers, and none of it would matter. Either way, it'll be better than this.

The castle was sleeping, and nobody but a few wandering soldiers were there to pay you any mind. Poor bastards probably can't sleep either. Some bowed their heads respectfully when you walked past, mumbling "M'lady," or sometimes "Ser," though you were not a knight, and lady of nothing but your sword. You quickened your pace.

When you reached Jon's room, you didn't let yourself think twice. You didn't steel yourself, didn't take a breath, just rapped on the door before you had a chance to go craven and leave.

Jon opened the door. Disheveled, in nothing but a plain shirt and trousers, though clearly awake. Your breath hitched. It felt intimate, seeing him this way, out of his capes and his leather, without Longclaw on his hip. His eyes widened, and you remembered your own appearance. Your bare feet, your undone hair, your dressing gown. At least we're even, then.

Jon ran a hand through his hair. "You need something, Flowers?" He mumbled, not unkindly, a tired smile ghosting his lips.

"Do you love me?"

"What?"

You pushed your way into the room. Jon's eyes flared again, but he didn't stop you. "You heard me, Snow. Do you love me? All those times we sat on watch together. All those times you held my hand, and came to greet me at the tunnel when I came back from a ranging, and fussed over me when I got hurt. How you called for me when the fighting ended at Castle Black, and after the Boltons, and how I called for you. Did all of that mean something to you, or did I imagine it?"

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he just looked at you. Then, his face softened. He took your hand in his, warm and rough and familiar, and threaded his fingers through yours.

"Are you jealous?"

Damn him.

"Maybe." Your voice came out a tremble. "Or maybe I'm afraid. I don't know."

"Come here." He tugged you into his arms, and you found yourself clinging. It had all been so much so fast. All the fighting, the dying, the red woman, the free folk. Ramsay, and Cersei, and the threat of the dead, and the beautiful Daenerys with her dragons. Jon held you as you cried about nothing and everything for a while, rubbing your back and carding his fingers through your hair, murmuring reassuring things that you couldn't hear.

You could've stayed there forever.

But I need to know before it kills me.

With an effort, you stepped back, feeling a little empty without his arms around you, and a little guilty about the damp spot you'd left on his shirt. You took a shaky breath.

"I need to know if you love me, or--" you pushed a sob down, before it could break. Jon opened his mouth, but you didn't let him get a word in. "It's okay if you don't, really-- I just," you offered him a watery smile. "I need to know now. If you love me, or if you love the Queen. Please, Jon. Before it kills me."

You bit your trembling lip for dear life. You would not cry if he said loved her, you swore it to every god you knew. You would not ruin it for him, more than you already had. If he said he loved her, you would smile, and thank him for his honesty, and be done with it.

But Jon Snow didn't say anything. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed, and took your hand, and kissed your knuckles. He kissed your palm, and your wrist, inviting you to sit beside him with a gentle pull. You nearly fell into place. Something about his touch always made you lean into him without thinking. He wasn't magnetic, exactly-- it was something softer than that. More akin to the gentle urge of gravity on a feather.

He held your face in his hands, and brushed away a tear, and kissed you softer than any fur or silk in the world.

"Of course I love you," he said, voice wavering. Tears had made a home in his eyes, just as they had in yours, and the look on his face sent a wave of guilt crashing over you. "I'm sorry you ever thought I didn't. Please, forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Jon. You know how I get, I--" you paused, trying to find the words. "I'm sorry. I'm a jealous woman, a scarred woman. I have no dragons, and no crown, and no beautiful silver hair or perfect face. I have no name of my own. I have nothing to give you but my sword and my love, and Daenerys has seven kingdoms. Well, she will, I mean. Just-- I felt like you'd abandoned me for someone better. Which is stupid, because you're not even mine to think about that way--"

"And who says I don't want to be?" Jon interrupted. He took your hand, took your scarred knuckles to his lips again. The way he was fixing those beautiful eyes on you, with such perfect sincerity, took every word you'd ever known right out of your mouth. Whatever he was going to say next, he meant it.

"I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, and I don't want it because of power, or money, or dragons. I just want to love you. Is that so hard to believe, Flowers?"

"You would love a jealous woman?"

Jon laughed. "You would love a jealous man? I can be just as bad as you, you know. Remember when you got to be a ranger, and I didn't?"

That was true, and you chuckled at the memory. "Gods, you're right, Snow. You had on the most sullen look I've ever seen when you watched me and Grenn ride off for the first time."

"And that was me trying to hide it."

Jon Snow took you in his arms again, smiling now, and kissed your brow. When you buried your face in his shoulder, he smelled of linen, and smoke, and something that was just him. Familiar, safe, and gentle.

"Stay with me tonight. I want to hold you." His whisper fluttered over your ear, tone almost desperate, almost yearning. Your heart skipped about ten beats at once, and you shuddered. He's going to be the death of me, you thought, pulling back to look in those deep, dark eyes. He is going to be the death of me, and I don't mind at all. Gently, you pressed his shoulder, pushing him down to lie on his back, with you settled in the pocket of his arm.

He held you, and you held him, and for the first time in many days, you slept comfortably.

--------

the sellsword's taglist: no one here yet!

jon snow's taglist: no one here yet!

(ask to be added to taglists! 'the sellsword's' is for all of my works on this account. Each character ive written for also has their own separate taglist, if you'd only like to be notified for certain characters.)

okay i’m awake time to write for my silly little phone spiders

exes and oh’s — billy the kid

pairing: billy bonney x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, Y/N usage, established relationship, possessive!billy, arguments, standard billy the kid warnings.

authors note: im starting to think i have a problem.. 3 fics in one day lmfao. this one was based off of this request— thank you anon. i hope you all enjoy this one <33

masterlist

Ever since the day Billy had asked you to be his, he had thought the constant bugging of men around you would come to an end. But it seemed to be that the Bonney man only noticed those men’s stares towards you even more.

He sat at the bar you currently worked as he watched yet another man eye you from the corner of the room. It made his blood boil, his knuckles turning white from the harsh grip on his shot glass.

“Baby, leave the glass alone.” You teased with that charming smile that made him weak in the knees. “It ain’t done nun’ to ya,”

He put it down, your soft southern accent making his anger simmer down in a instant. “Sorry, honey.”

“What’s got you starin’ daggers over there?” You re-poured his now empty glass with whiskey.

“Them men starin’ at you.” His eyes darkened as he looked at you through his brows, his fingertips circling the rim of the shot glass.

Your tongue darted out across your bottom lip at his admission, his words making a deep want towards your outlaw settle in your gut knowing how protective he was of you.

“They can look all they want, darlin’.” You tried to ease his anger with a gentle voice. “You’re the only one that I’d ever let touch me—you know that.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust.” He murmurs as he leans back, his eyes boring into yours.

“Hey, foxy..” One of the men he was talking about now stood in front of you, slurring his words. “You’re mighty fine, mind if we.. talk somewhere privately?” He winked, making you want to throw up. “I’d love to see how you look under them fine clothes of yours,”

You looked him up and down in disgust. “I’m alright, sir. Got someone else in mind for tonight,” You looked at Billy from the corner of your eye, your cowboy smirking up at you. You sighed as you went to grab the drunken man’s glass to refill—he was still a customer after all.

His grueling grip caught your wrist before you could even grab the glass—almost pulling you over the bar.

“You little bitch, can’t take a real man, huh?” He spat as you let out a yelp, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Back the fuck off.” Billy’s menacing figure appeared from beside the man, throwing the man back by his shoulder, causing him to fall on his ass.

He groaned, but was back on his feet within seconds. “The fuck it mean to you, huh? I wan’ her, so she’s mine.”

The second the man finished his sentence, Billy’s fast fist made contact with his jaw hard, the man being back to his spot on the floor. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ say those words about her.” He hissed, leaning down to place more punches to the man’s bloodied face. You watched in a mixture of horror and admiration—mostly admiration.

The man below him only let out a cackle in return. “Oh, I see. She’s your whore,” He spat blood into Billy’s face, and you swore the whole room stopped at his words.

Billy’s cocked back arm stopped at his words, and within seconds his pistol was pointed at the man’s forehead. “What did you just say?” He yelled. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you—”

You grabbed his forearm, pulling him back up. “Billy, please—” He turned to you, panting as you tried to calm that wild look in his eye. “That piece of shit ain’t worth it, c’mon, baby.” Your eyes flickered between his, and after a moment, he sighed before relenting and putting the gun away.

“Yeah, gotta get your bitch to sort out your favors—” The man continued to talk shit, but Billy cut him off with a swift kick to the ribs.

“Shut the fuck up.” Billy rasped out, looking down upon the man.

“C’mon,” You pulled his hand, taking him to the room in the back. You were glad it was around last call—the bar being mainly empty. You sat him down on some old crates before you turned to grab the spare med-kit you had hidden back there months prior.

Once you had everything ready, you held your hand out, signaling Billy to hand you his cut and bruised knuckles. He did, knowing better than to argue with you on the matter.

Your heart sank in your chest when you first saw them. “Billy, you’ve gotta stop gettin’ into fights over me.” You whispered, your eyes not leaving his hand.

His other hand reached out to angle your jaw so your eyes would met his. “Darlin’, I’m never gon’ stop fightin’ for you. You know that.” He shook his head with a smile. “He ain’t even get a lick in—I’m fine.”

“I know you can handle yourself.” You mutter in reply. “I just don’t like seein’ you hurt. Regardless of how bad—I don’t like it. Nor do I like watchin’ you put yourself in danger for me.” You retort with a pointed look.

His gaze lowered. “Now, lady, let’s not pretend you haven’t done the same. I’ve witnessed some pretty crazy cat fights after hours at the boardin’ house,” He teased, his hand now cupping your jaw.

You sighed, trying to fight back the smile that threatened to break free. “Jus’ please, be careful.”

“Always am.” He leaned forward to kiss the frown off your face, his hands sliding down your body in order to squeeze your hips.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him closer to your body as you smiled against his lips.

He pulled back, leaning his forehead onto yours. You both sat there for a couple of moments, enjoying the comfortable silence.

You placed one last kiss to his plump lips. “Alright, let me see that hand of yours.” You asked, and when he placed it into yours, you got to work. You disinfected and bandaged it to ensure it wouldn’t get an infection. “That should do it,” You whispered as you finished tying the cloth, leaning down to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you for defendin’ me, honey.”

You swore that even in the darkness of the room you were currently in that you could see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “I’m always gon’ defend you, baby.” He whispered, pulling you up by your hand to place you in his lap, his arms slithering around you as he placed a kiss to your cheek. He went quiet for a moment before he turned to grab something. You looked at him questionably when you saw that glint in his eye.

He smirked as he placed his signature hat onto your head. “There.” He admired his work as he fixed your hair, styling it to compliment the hat. “That should tell all those fuckers that you’re mine.”

Your teeth sunk into his bottom lip at his words as your eyes flickered between his. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” You whispered, the tip of his hat hitting his head as you leaned in to reconnect your lips again.

He didn’t mind—he thought it looked better on you anyways.

When you've read nearly all the hobie fanfics and now In need of desperate new content

(fr guys I need more hobie fanfics)