callsignfawn

[callsignfawn]

I have been so extremely inactive because my motivation to write has died down a ton.. I have a few requests that I want to do, but no promises 😔

[callsignfawn]

── MORNING GLORY.

pairing: robb stark x wife!reader

summary: robb wakes up needy for his wife. good thing she's right there to help.

warnings: slight somno, fingering, spooning to prone bone, breeding kink (it's required), biting, lazy morning sex idk, this was written so quickly I just really needed to post something, not proofread cause I'm too lazy right now, mdni.

notes: this is not what I planned on posting today but I didn't get a lot of progress done on what I initially wanted to do, so enjoy this in the meantime. I woke up horny and I'm ovulating this week and this is the outcome. also regular text size won the poll!! I'm just keeping the notes and stuff small text.

word count: 1.5k

The ache between Robb's legs was the first thing he noticed when he awoke. The morning light was just beginning to filter in through the curtains, rays bathing the bedchambers in hues of orange and yellow. Even with the thorough love-making from the night before, his body ached for more before he was fully conscious.

Your soft form was curled beneath the furs, silky hair sprawled across the pillow, your lips parted ever so slightly as you slept. You were surely a pretty sight, one that only served to make him grow harder in his smallclothes. It was almost pathetic, Robb thought, that the mere sight of his wife could make him ache. He hoped the feeling was mutual. Your body was so warm and pliant against his own, one firm arm slung over your waist as he held your back to his chest.

Robb didn't want to disturb your slumber, not when you slept so peacefully, but his need for you was getting harder to ignore. He would make sure your abrupt awakening was well worth your while. His lips found your neck, planting gentle kisses over the marks he had left the night before. He could feel the shift in your breath, even if it was unconscious, your body responding to his familiar touch in your slumber. His hand, once splayed over the soft plane of your stomach began to dip lower, fingertips gliding across the skin of your thigh that was left bare from the way your shift had tugged up on the night. He savored the warmth of your skin and the subtle shift of your hips as you began to wake.

Robb's touch grew bolder as his fingers moved to the honey between your legs. He groaned softly at the wetness he found there, eyes squeezing shut as his calloused fingers found your clit. The little nub was already slickened with your arousal, two fingers easily gliding over it in tight circles. The whine you let out was so soft, so needy, it had your husband throbbing.

“Shhh, my lady,” he murmured, voice rough from disuse, “I've got you.” The scratch of his stubble against the delicate shell of your ear had you shuddering, hands clutching the bedsheets as you began to come back to reality.

“Robb.”

The breathy call of his name had his fingers speeding up on your clit, and it was then that he realized he was rutting against your rear, too desperate to stop himself like a dog in heat. His mouth found your neck again, teeth gently sinking into the sensitive skin before he soothed it with his tongue. It had you gasping, and Robb took the opportunity to slide a finger into your welcoming heat. “You're soaked, love,” the smirk was practically audible in his words. His hips rolled slowly, grinding the hard outline of his cock against your ass. “Were you dreaming about me?”

“Mhh… perhaps,” you replied, eyes fluttering shut with a small pinch of your brow. Your walls clamped around his invading digit, already wanting for more as you subtly rocked against his hand.

In tune with the tells of your body, and the soft little sounds that escaped you, Robb slid a second finger inside of you. He scissored his fingers for a few long moments, stretching you out for what was to come. “I hope it was a good dream,” he spoke huskily, lips still planting open-mouthed kisses along your neck and behind your ear until your skin glistened with his spit. “But never better than the real thing. I am here, my wife, let me love you.”

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, reveling in the whimper of protest you let out, ready to be filled again. He made quick work of shoving down his smallclothes, his cock springing free. It was hard and aching, leaking with his need for his wife. One hand tugged up your shift in a haste, revealing the swell of your rear and the shape of your hips. His fingers sunk into the supple flesh of one of your cheeks, spreading you open for him. He grasped his cock, guiding the leaking tip through your folds. He watched, enraptured, as your folds parted around him, his length gliding easily through your arousal.

“Husband!” You gasped when his head caught on your clit, the delicious drag sending heat through your core as your body tensed.

“Shhh, my lady wife,” he repeated. Without more preamble, Robb lined himself up with your entrance. He groaned as soon as he slid inside, your warmth pulling him in further as he dropped his forehead onto your shoulder. His hand slid from your ass to your hip, fingers clutching onto you as he bottomed out. The moan you let out had him exhaling shakily, and it took all of his strength not to move until you adjusted.

Slowly, agonizingly so, Robb began to rock his hips. He dragged out of your clenching cunt until only the tip remained before pushing back inside. The pace was slow and deep, and he reveled in the soft moans he could draw from your lips, he reveled in the feeling of your warmth around him. It was what he had been aching for, and now he was lost in the pleasure. His hand slid up your body, arm looped over your waist, as his hand cupped one of your breasts through the thin fabric of your shift. He kneaded the soft mound, thumb circling your pebbled nipple as he sped up. Robb's hips slapped against your ass, the sound of flesh against flesh mingling with his grunts and your moans.

“So pretty,” Robb gasped, words falling from his lips without rhyme or reason, “so perfect. My lady. My wife. My heart."

As his thrusts grew more erratic, he eased you onto your stomach without missing a beat. His chest was flush against your back, body covering your own as he continued to run into you. “Robb!” You cried out, the noise strangled as his weight pressed into you. He pried open the tight grip you had on the pillows, fingers locking with your own. The other hand slid up your body, finger wrapping around your chin to tilt your head to look at him. His lips found yours in a messy kiss, though it was far too quick for your liking.

“You feel so good beneath me, my darling,” Robb panted, eyes glued to the way your brows furrowed, your hair clung to your sweaty forehead, your lips parted around soft gasps and whines. He felt his balls begin to tighten, threatening with his incoming release. He dropped his head upon your shoulder again, teeth biting at the bare skin he found. “My love, my lady, I'm close.”

“In… inside!” You managed to gasp.

That was all it took.

“You want me to cum inside, darling? Want me to fill you up and fuck you full of my seed?” The words were ragged as his hips stuttered, his hand sliding away from your jaw to clutch your hip. Robb squeezed your hand, and though his next words were spoken in a daze of lust, he meant them. “I can't wait to see you round with our babe. Let the whole North know you're mine.”

With a few punishingly hard thrusts, Robb stilled, and spilled inside of you. He felt your walls clench and spasm around him, a shrill cry falling from your lips as you met your orgasms together. He screwed his eyes shut, lips parted around gasping breaths and raspy moans. His hips stuttered as he rode out the waves of his climax, each pulse of his cock sending jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last spurts of his release dribbled out.

You were both panting, trembling with the aftermath of pleasure. Robb rolled his hips lazily, feeling his softening cock still nestled inside you. He could feel their combined releases starting to leak out around him, dribbling down your thighs. Marking you. Claiming you. He let go of your hip, hand propping himself up so he did not fully crush you with his weight. Nuzzling against the crook of your neck, he placed a reverent kiss to your skin.

“Are you alright, love?”

His question was almost laughable.

“Never better, husband. Only.. tired.”

Robb grinned against your neck, peppering kisses up the expanse of it until he met your jaw, your cheek, your forehead. “Well-spent, hm?” He hummed. He hissed as he slipped his softening cock out of you, rolling onto his back to gather you on his arms. He didn't miss the way you clenched your thighs together, an attempt at keeping his warm seed inside of you. It made his heart stutter, not entirely with lust, but hope. Hope that it would take.

“Sleep, wife,” he whispered, placing a final, lingering kiss upon your forehead as you rested on his chest. “I will be here when you wake.”

[callsignfawn]

Being Simon’s fuck. But you’re not the type to scream and cry and beg.

warning; “whore”, “bitch”, unprotected p in v sex, dominant reader, poorly written brain dump at 2 am, spitting, not proofread, longer than intended but still short, mommy kink, “ma/mama” (sry mama @lay-z and her version of simon with a mommy kink stroke something hidden in me)

You’re the type to sit back and enjoy as he goes through a whole cardio routine trying to pleasure you, closing your eyes and mumbling “shit” when he hits the right spot. Silent, so silent because you hold your breath Simon is doing whatever the fuck he can do make you moan.

He’s over the moon when you whimper, and preparing for his next load when you moan with closed lips, as if tasting your mom’s cooking and not having his cock at your throat, bruising your cervix and creating a bulge in your stomach.

“Fuck” you whisper to yourself, barely even making a sound, just your sweet lips moving slightly. But he’s looking at you like you hung the stars, eyes hooded, swimming in his own pleasure as he pushes his body harder than he ever did.

If it wasn’t for you clenching around him, he’d think you were on the verge of asking “is it in yet” and laugh in his face.

You sigh and turn your head to the side, your hair now draped over your gorgeous face. You’re the first person he doesn’t have the audacity to grab by the hair and pull or wrap his fingers around their throat.

He’s still drilling into your pussy like a mean, mean guy, trying to keep the 120 mph pace he’s set to impress you. You’re not kicking and clawing at him like any other chick would. It’s arousing.

When you dig your nails in his back, it’s so harsh it causes him to bleed. The pain sends a wave of something dark and unspoken through his spine, you feel him twitch inside you with it.

You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him closer, whispering in his ear. “Go slower, Im there.”

He chokes on a gasp, almost cums from hearing you speak like that. But he obeys, slowing his pace, allowing you to feel every stroke of his humongous prick and fuck— ain’t this guy a beast. He’s the best one you’ve ever had, not that you’d ever make it obvious to him but he’s good.

Maybe it’s just his cock, or maybe he’s good at sex too. Whatever it is, you’re enjoying yourself. That’s what matters.

His cock drags in and out of you, your folds making a squelching noise every time so. And you lean in again, and choke on something. He doesn’t know what it is. He can’t hear the rest of it. All he knows is that it was a curse that sounded so much like the dirtiest talk he fucking busted.

He’s lucky you followed close after, or it would be embarrassing.

You gasp, sucking on his neck to muffle a groan, and he fucking bursts another load into you.

Then you slide away from under him, climbing on top before he gets the chance to speak. And sit pretty on his cock without letting it soften, bouncing on it like a damn trampoline.

You hook your lips with his, riding him like you have the goddamn fbi on your tail, occasionally grunting or huffing and puffing in his ear, causing him to twitch.

You know the effect you have on him, so you toy with it.

“Does that feel good? Y’like that, yeah?”

“Yes mama, damn it feels so good— fu-fuuuucckkk!”

You slow down when he tries to speak, spitting in his mouth and plunging a thumb in there, pressing down when you feel like a response is on the tip of his tongue.

“You feel that? Feel m’pussy swallowing your cock?”

“D-deep mama—“

“That’s right. Feel every inch. Every.”

Plop.

“Single.”

Plop.

“Fucking.”

Plop.

“Inch.”

“Shit!” He groans, his head thrown back. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—“

He starts to repeat your name like a prayer as he quivers, his whole body convulses, you press two palms on his chest to keep him still.

“T-too much ma— fuck! Too much… too- shit!”

He’s almost hyperventilating, his orgasm is like a train hitting the both of you. You feel the pressure of his semen squirting up into your walls and you laugh.

“Damn Lieutenant, had no idea you were a nasty little bitch.”

He pants, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“And you’re more than a silent mouth and a tight cunt. Possessive fucking whore. All because I looked at another girl wrong?”

“She was giving you the doe eyes!”

“Baby, she was literally the lunch lady!”

Oh wait. You forgot he’s your boyfriend.

Very sorry for this shitty writing but this had to be discarded off my system asap for me to go to sleep

[callsignfawn]

Fucks me up to think about how every character in the world is literally just someone's OC

[callsignfawn]

HELL YEAH

── JON SNOW x CHUBBY!READER HEADCANONS.

notes: this is my first time posting my work online, constructive criticism is very much appreciated! this man has me barking like a rabid dog in heat I ain't even gonna lie. not proofread oops. this is rushed because I am very sick this week.

warnings: fem!wife!reader, basic body descriptions, small mentions of insecurities, tooth-rotting fluff, written with later seasons jon in mind, sfw and nsfw. mdni. jon's a munch for his wife.

— SFW. (slightly suggestive)

I feel like jon wouldn't care what his lover looks like, as the saying goes, beauty is on the inside, but there are pluses to having a chubby wife. a soft, plush woman to call his own.

jon loves having a hand on you at all times, and not even in a sexual way. he simply needs that contact, feeling the way your softness contrasts against his own hard build. whether it's a hand on the small of your back as you walk alongside or a steady grip on your plump thigh beneath the table during feasts, jon wants needs to feel you. his favorite thing is probably holding your hand. it's so simple and innocent, and yet the feeling of your soft skin against his own is near maddening. his palms are rough and calloused from years of swordplay and hard work, while yours seem just as delicate as the petals of a rose.

the way your body fits into dresses is one of his favorite sights. the bodice hugs the flare of your hips and outlines the curves of your beautiful body in all the right ways. whenever you wear a gown with a particularly low neckline, it offers a tantalizing view of the swell of your breasts, a teasing sight of what he already knows lies beneath, but still feels his mouth run dry like some green boy. because it's you. you, his gorgeous, sweet, perfect little wife.

if jon could curl up in bed with you and bury his face in-between your chest, in the soft pudge of your stomach, or lie his head upon your lap, and stay there forever — he would do so in a heartbeat. it's one of his favorite places. it makes him feel safe, it makes him feel loved. especially when you delicately trace over his features or run your fingers through his hair.

another thing your husband adores is the way your rounded cheeks split into a grin each time you see him. it's so very endearing, watching the way your visage shifts, enlighten by his very presence alone.

very much gives grumpy x sunshine. jon, your quiet, brooding, king in the north who only ever shows his sweeter side to you, all vulnerable and caring in the warmth of your embrace. he would not hesitate to defend you whenever needed. while jon loves your body, all its softness, all its warmth, he knows that self-love is much harder for you. some lady from the court whispered under her breath about you? not happening. a drunken lord called you a horrid name between a snicker and another swig of ale? not on jon's watch. you're his wife, his love, and he will not stand for any disrespect. he only wishes you could see yourself through his own eyes.

and then there's the more practical side that comes with the extra bit of weight you carry. winters in the north are harsh and unforgiving. jon doesn't want some frail, delicate woman who he fears won't make it past the season. you come with a bit of extra hardiness, extra warmth.

another aspect of such topics is the prospect of carrying children — if that was something you both would wish for — again, jon doesn't want a fragile thing to worry about. he doesn't want you to break while you're carrying his child, and while he will still worry, he knows your body is practically made for bearing his little wolf pups.

— NSFW.

we already know that jon is canonically a munch. between your legs is surely better than whatever paradise comes after death. the way your fingers thread through his dark curls, tousling them from their bun, your pliant body squirming beneath him. oh, it's his own personal heaven. jon loves the way your plump thighs wrap around his head as he worships you with his tongue and lips. he could spend an eternity there, slurping up your nectar and suckling on your swollen clit. it has him groaning against your cunt and grinding against the featherbed.

jon loves the sight of your body sprawled out beneath him, your hair splayed across the pillows like a silken halo, framing you as his angel in the flesh. he loves to watch the way your flesh molds to his fingers as he grips your thighs or waist, the way the skin ripples with each one of his thrusts.

and your boobs. gods, your boobs. it doesn't matter what shape they are, or how big they are, he would kiss and suck and knead them until you were whining, crying out for him for more. I am a firm believer that jon snow is a boob guy.

his favorite thing when you are intimate is simply holding you as close as possible. with one strong arm tucked beneath your body, keeping you pressed against the hard planes of his chest as he drags his hips against yours. his other forearm is propped beside your head, keeping him up so he can watch the way your face scrunched in bliss, the way you look up at him like he's your whole world. his hand cradles your cheek, thumb reverently stroking your skin as he keeps you close and makes you cum.

[callsignfawn]

I have been so extremely inactive because my motivation to write has died down a ton.. I have a few requests that I want to do, but no promises 😔

[callsignfawn]

[callsignfawn]

Some sketches about ghosts healing journey…..

(Captain price would listen to his thoughts and calm him if he’s having bad dreams, and ghost would bond mich more with gaz imo)

(Also laswell would make him tea)

[callsignfawn]

Think of a reader who can’t fucking sit straight even the manliest men are anxious fucks while they consider manspreading near her, before deciding against it.

Think of a reader who could and would have her feet on the table in front of the fucking president or something.

Think of a reader who puts her feet on Simon’s shoulders while sitting behind him in briefing, while the entire room freezes in fear.

Think of a reader who nudges his temple with her boot when he opens his mouth to object behind the balaclava.

Think of a reader who got uncomfortable in a vehicle during a co-op mission with some other team, and even though she’s reckless, she knows her limits and shows respect. So she’s not sitting weird, not when everyone’s trying to fit.

So think of the reader’s reaction when the men near her finally take this chance to manspread as if it’s a competition.

“Close them the FUCK up, your dick isn’t even that big. It doesn’t need more space than me.”

haha this happened to me in metro today, the woman saying that was so badass omg😭

[callsignfawn]

bunnies 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ🐇

[callsignfawn]

"If you use em dash in your works, it makes them look AI generated. No real human uses em dash."

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A HUMAN AND YOU USE EM DASH

[callsignfawn]

been a while since I posted but I am still alive 😁

18+ MINORS GO AWAY!!! just some johnny thoughts...

soap gets pussy drunk soooo easily. he's barely slipping inside you and already muttering breathless praises of, "feels s' good for me, lass. so wet. such pretty sounds." the feeling of your velvet walls enveloping his cock simply makes his brain to turn to mush with nothing but the desire to fuck you taking over every atom in his body.

his hands grasp your hips, nails digging into the plump flesh with enough force to leave crescents. his thrusts have long since grown erratic, a creamy ring forming where your bodies meet. he's sweaty, noisy, and so, so desperate. he's already lost track of the times he's made you cum, but "jus' one more, little dove. one more, i know ya've got it in ya."

but we all know that he doesn't truly mean what he says. soap will drag peak after peak after peak until you simply can't take it any more. your skin glistens with sweat, sticking to his own. soap's brow is furrowed in a pout as he ruts into you like a dog in heat. one his hands dares to leave your hip, sloppily grasping your chin. your lips purse, cheeks squished as his fingers dig into your skin and he pushes a forceful kiss against your mouth.

[callsignfawn]

18+ MINORS GO AWAY!!! just some johnny thoughts...

soap gets pussy drunk soooo easily. he's barely slipping inside you and already muttering breathless praises of, "feels s' good for me, lass. so wet. such pretty sounds." the feeling of your velvet walls enveloping his cock simply makes his brain to turn to mush with nothing but the desire to fuck you taking over every atom in his body.

his hands grasp your hips, nails digging into the plump flesh with enough force to leave crescents. his thrusts have long since grown erratic, a creamy ring forming where your bodies meet. he's sweaty, noisy, and so, so desperate. he's already lost track of the times he's made you cum, but "jus' one more, little dove. one more, i know ya've got it in ya."

but we all know that he doesn't truly mean what he says. soap will drag peak after peak after peak until you simply can't take it any more. your skin glistens with sweat, sticking to his own. soap's brow is furrowed in a pout as he ruts into you like a dog in heat. one his hands dares to leave your hip, sloppily grasping your chin. your lips purse, cheeks squished as his fingers dig into your skin and he pushes a forceful kiss against your mouth.

[callsignfawn]

girl dinner

💪

[callsignfawn]

Are you the same callsignfawn that makes edits on TikTok ?

nooo haha i don't have tiktok!!

[callsignfawn]

another gaz study ehe