rynwritesstuff

[rynwritesstuff]

How Bad Do You Want Me? - Kylo Ren x ResistancePilot!Reader

Kylo Ren x ResistancePilot!Reader

Warnings: NSFW (PIV Sex, unprotected sex, crying during sex lol), Banter, sassy Kylo Ren, sassy Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Before Kylo Ren was Kylo Ren, he was a padawan with you. Before you were a Resistance Pilot, you were a padawan with Kylo Ren. Now, several years later, you've found yourself in the clutches of the First Order, and, of course, Kylo himself.

A/N: May the Fourth be with you! I decided to celebrate my lifelong love for this series by writing some smut lol, as one does. In case you missed it, I created a sideblog (@rainbow-gelpen) so if you wanna see some non-writing shenanigans from me, head on over there for some fun. Otherwise, enjoy the oneshot <3

The room is cold, that is the first thing you note as you come to your senses. When you open your eyes, everything begins to come together in choppy, drawn-out scenes. 

The village, full and dark. The people, afraid and yelling. 

Lor San Tekka, with his small smirk.

Kylo Ren, lightsaber in hand. 

You startle at the image of him and jerk against the restraints on the interrogation chair. You look around the room. No Stormtroopers are in-sight, and you know immediately that this must be intentional. Stormtroopers are so small-minded, so easily manipulated . . . And, after all, Kylo Ren knows that you are a Force-user. 

Yes, he knows you could have Forced your way through Stormtroopers and escaped out of the base with, most likely, very little effort. Your fists clench at the knowledge, already beginning to feel angry with him. You wonder briefly, foolishly, if generals and officers will be sent in soon to try and force the information out of you. And then, you remember who you are dealing with. 

Kylo Ren will want to get it out of you himself. As, of course, a testament to the fact that he simply can. As proof that he knew you once and knows you still. If you know a person long ago – knew every part of them – that does not necessarily fade with time, does it? Perhaps bits and pieces go, but not whole parts. Kylo Ren is still Ben Solo. Ben Solo is still Kylo Ren. 

You stare at the door, willing it to open, daring it to open. You can feel his energy. It is getting closer. He’s so angry, so sad. You can sense it. Gods, you feel sick knowing just how infected he is. You wonder now, just as you have wondered everyday since he burned down the Temple you once shared, if there was ever anything to be done for him, and if you could have been the one to save him from himself. 

You shake your head. He didn’t want saving, he wanted power, and power is what he received. If it meant losing you, he didn’t care, did he?

. . . Did he?

Footsteps come pounding towards you. You still recognize the cadence even after all this time, after all these changes. You know who it is, and you set your eyes on the door again. The durasteel door slides open with a soft hiss, and there he is. Your jaw clenches, standing tall as the door slams down shut again. Kylo stands there for a moment. 

“It is really you,” he says. You glare at him. Anger swells in your chest, that very same anger that you carried with you all that time ago as you watched the Jedi Temple burn down. You remember looking for him, clawing through pieces of wreckage as you searched and called for him. And then there it was, his hand on your shoulder, and you can still remember how the relief felt when it coursed through you.

And yes, you can still remember the betrayal you felt when you realized what he had done. 

You hate that he still has this hold over you, this grip on your heart, your mind. Has nothing changed? Has time not cast its spell? Here he is in his dark clothes – a leather tunic, leather trousers, boots, a cape, a mask, gloves – and still a part of you feels like it has finally come home. 

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on-board,” Kylo speaks again. You don’t stop glaring. If this is the last thing you’ll ever do, you won’t go down easily. You’ll fight him, you’ll shame him, you’ll combat every remark. You owe him nothing, he owes you everything. 

You could have killed him, afterall. After you’d seen exactly what he had done to the Temple, to your fellow Padawans. People were yelling for you to stop him, to trap him, and you . . . Just let him go. You wonder sometimes, even now, how everything may have played out if you had sliced his leg or stalled him or whipped out your own lightsaber. 

There could be peace across the galaxy today if you had not loved him more than the future of your fellow civilians. 

He looks so strong, so powerful. You remember when he was younger, when his muscles weren’t quite so large and his shoulders weren’t so broad. You wonder what he looks like. Is he scarred? Mutilated beyond recognition? Is that why he wears this mask?

“You’re a coward,” you snarl suddenly, unable to stop yourself. Kylo crouches. You can sense the peculiar look on his face from beneath the mask. “Hiding behind a mask. You don’t even have the guts to look at me with your eyes . . . Do you?”

Hesitation. You sense it from him. How odd. 

Then, his hands are lifting and settling at the sides of the mask. He presses buttons at the side, and it hisses as the facepiece unlocks and lifts. Kylo pulls the mask off as he stands once more. He sets it aside, then looks upon you. 

Oh. 

Oh.

This is the face of someone worth losing everything over.

His eyes are angry. His brows are thick. His nose is prominent, his lips are plush. Moles and freckles dot his pale skin. His hair is longer now than it was years ago, but still wavy. Still curled at the ends. It takes everything in you not to let the emotions swell. Perhaps this will prove to be more difficult than you thought. 

Kylo steps forward, and you don’t dare look away. 

“I know the old man gave it to you,” Kylo says. “The map. Tell me where it is.”

You shake your head. 

“You of all people should know that I’m not that easy,” you tell him. The corner of his mouth twitches. You remember the summer you spent with him, drunk in love under the bright stars. Oh, the smiles he’d give you. This is nothing in comparison. 

“Don’t make me fight for it,” Kylo says. He steps forward again. “We both know I’m stronger. I can take whatever I want.”

Your faces are so close. Your hands are clenched into fists, still. You are aching to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. You look at him and wonder how exactly he plans to take this information from you. The truth is that the map is far away from here by now, and on its way to the Resistance with your BB unit. 

You have nothing for him. Even if he finds out about the droid, Kylo and his people will never beat it to the base. Perhaps you are to die tonight at the hands of Kylo Ren. What a heroic way to go. What a beautiful last face to see. 

Kylo brings a large, gloved hand up to the side of your face, not touching you but nearly doing so. The Force hums, then. You grunt as you throw up your mental walls, fighting to keep him out. 

“You don’t h-have to do this,” you breathe softly, straining against the pain. Kylo says nothing, instead pushing harder. You look away from him, and because you do this, you miss the way his bottom lip quivers briefly. He feels it – everything you’ve carried with you all this time.

“You’re so angry,” he says quietly, almost to himself. You shake your head. 

“I-I’ve been captured by your s-slaves,” you quip.

“No,” comes his firm voice. “You’re angry because of what I did at the Temple. Even now, it’s in here.”

“You sound surprised,” you grunt, glaring at him again. His eyes meet yours. “I loved you.”

“You loved what I stood for.”

“I. Loved. You,” you snarl. You shake against the restraints. “Let me out of this wretched thing, face me properly. Or are you too afraid of what I can do?”

Kylo pulls out of your mind. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at you momentarily. Then, he reaches forward and undoes the cuffs of the interrogation chair. You lunge at him immediately, shoving him so hard that he stumbles back.

You raise your hand to smack him, and he catches your wrists in both of his hands. You knee him in the crotch instead. Kylo grunts, then spins you around and pins you against the wall with his entire firm body pressed against yours. You struggle. 

“Get off of me.”

“I told you you were angry,” Kylo says, as if to prove a point.

“Get off.”

“Where is the map?”

“I don’t know.”

Kylo adjusts your wrists so that he’s holding them both in one hand, then brings his other hand up to rest on your throat. Your breath catches. 

“Where . . . is it?”

“I don’t know,” You say again, softly this time. Kylo hums, and you feel the energy shifting. Your heart begins to pound. Kylo’s body is hot against yours. You tip your head back to rest against his shoulder. An olive branch. A dove. An offer. His hand slides down from your throat to your left breast. You nearly moan at the feeling – how long have you waited for this? How many nights have you laid awake thinking of this exact scenario? Wondering how how hands would feel on your chest, on your hips, on your–

“You want this,” Kylo says as he squeezes your breast. You sigh. 

“I never said I didn’t,” you remark. He leans forward and presses his face against your shoulder, then inhales your scent deeply. 

“If you’re gonna take me, then do it,” you say breathily. 

“Have you no patience?”

“Clearly not,” you tell him. You feel his erection pressing against you, and you chuckle. “Clearly you don’t, either.”

Kylo turns you around so that he can look at you. You reach up to touch him, running your hand along his cheek. He seems to lean into your touch, and this brings you an odd sense of satisfaction. He still wants you, still wants this.

“Take all this shit off,” you tell him firmly, tugging at his tunic. He says your name, and you shake your head. “I don’t care. Take it off. If you’re gonna kill me over this map, I want to see you one last time.”

You’ve always held your head high, but the truth is that Kylo Ren has haunted you from the moment he left the Temple, lightsaber in-hand. Life is . . . Life is a waiting game now. Wondering how much time you have left, how much time you’ve wasted. But now, here? You know how it could end, and Kylo Ren is taking off his cape and his tunic and his undershirt, and you surge forward to grab a handful of his hair and kiss him. 

He gasps against your lips but you only press against him harder. The Force seems to hum around the two of you. Two powerhouses together only means ultimate power, and as Kylo pulls your body forward and yanks at your clothes, you begin to realize that perhaps you should have joined him all those years ago. 

It certainly would’ve made life much easier for you.

Kylo shreds your shirt and throws its remnants aside before reaching around to unclip your undergarment. You let him. He kisses you again, and you feel it again – The Force’s strong presence. 

You lean back against the wall, and Kylo tugs down your pants eagerly, lips parted and cheeks flushed. What an incredible privilege it is to see him in this way again. You wonder how long it has been for him.

You run your hands along his strong arms – which are much larger than they were the last time you had him like this – and then meet his eyes. 

“Please,” you breathe. Kylo nods, reaching down to pull his erection free from his trousers. 

“I know,” he says. The emotion from earlier, you feel it finally. Tears fill your eyes as you part your legs for him, bringing one of them up to hook around his hip. Kylo holds the side of your face as a tear escapes you. 

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around him in an attempt to bring yourself even closer yet. He enters you, and you moan as he fills you up. Your grip on him tightens. You’ve missed this – you’ve needed it for Gods know how long. Kylo begins to piston his hips, fucking into you, and you groan as he holds you up against the wall. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. You moan. 

“Faster,” you sob, holding onto his hair, his shoulder. “F-Faster.”

“I’m trying,” Kylo says, rocking his hips back and forth. You sigh as he pleases you. His cock feels magical, like something that was made for you and only for you. You imagine Kylo at brothels and inns with random women, and it makes you hate him. How dare he be with anyone but you. How dare he even consider it.

“Tell me again,” Kylo says. “W-What you said earlier.”

You moan, mind foggy with lust. 

“Which thing?” you ask. 

“You know.”

You ponder for a moment, then it clicks. You moan. 

“I loved you,” you breathe, a lump in your throat. “I did. I-I swear it.”

Kylo nods, his eyes meeting yours. 

“I know,” he breathes. You yank on his hair. 

“I hate you, now.”

“I know that, too.”

Your chest is hot and filled with unsaid words of affection. Kylo isn’t ready for them, you know that. He may never be. He’s so angry, so full of hate. You can hardly believe he’s doing this with you at all. How will he be when it is over? What will he do to you?

“I hate you for leaving me,” you breathe. Your orgasm is swelling within you, and you know that Kylo is close, too. 

“You should have joined me,” Kylo says. You cry out. 

“Shut up,” you tell him. He says your name as if it’s a prayer. You shake your head. “Don’t. Don’t. Just make me cum.”

Kylo nods. For once, he has nothing to say, nothing to add. He knows that your time – yours and his – has passed. Destinies have been selected for each of you on opposite sides of this war, and when he is finished with this, he will have to act as if none of it meant anything at all. You’re so angry with him, and he’s so loyal to Snoke – none of it would ever work even if you tried.

But at least you have this. At least you have now.

“I’m close,” Kylo breathes. You nod.

“Me, too,” you say. He pounds into you once, twice, three more times, and he’s moaning your name against your shoulder. You groan at the sound of it. You revel in it, in his desperation, his neediness. You shall never have it again. 

He fills you up just like he used to, and you sigh softly as you reach your own peak. His gloved hand travels down to rub your throbbing clit, and when he does, you moan and buck your hips. 

“F-Fuck . . .” you sigh. Kylo takes you through it, and when it’s all over, he pulls out slowly. You lower your leg and reach for your pants. Kylo takes a small step back, looking at you momentarily before redressing. You let out a soft, shaky breath as you do the same. 

Kylo looks at you once he’s fully clothed, watching you finish getting dressed. 

“Tell me where the map is so I can let you go,” he says. You look at him as you tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. Your heart breaks in your chest. His does, too. You both know that this is not the ending that you wanted. 

“I can’t,” you say. He says your name. You shake your head. “I made promises, Kylo.” Feeling weak and foolish, Kylo rebinds you to the interrogation chair. You don’t fight him. He opens his mouth to speak, then reaches for his mask and leaves without another word.

Tagging my Star Wars-loving besties: @mrs-gucci @safarigirlsp @babbushka

(Dividers by saradika-graphics)

rynwritesstuff, 2025

[rynwritesstuff]

you guys will be getting some sexy and angsty kylo tomorrow for may the fourth. as a treat.

[rynwritesstuff]

Your new side blog link doesn't open? Want to join though ♥️

i think i fixed it <33

[rynwritesstuff]

follow my sideblog @rainbow-gelpen if you please <3

[rynwritesstuff]

One of my favorite AUs is old west Flip. Sheriff, gunfighter, cowboy, whatever! Your Billy the kid tag made me think of it. I know that’s a different character, but it made me wonder if you had any thoughts on Flip in the old west?

Maybe there’s an outlaw in town causing trouble. Maybe he has to rescue a woman who’s been kidnapped. Maybe he’s on a train or in a bank when some robbers show up. Maybe he’s just trying to cozy up to the local woman saloon owner. Or anything else you might think of!

No pressure of course, just sending a thought your way in case you like it! I love your writing so anything you write will be wonderful! 💗

Shannon, my dear friend! Thank you SOOO much for these amazing ideas. I included a little bit of everything in the oneshot: Drama, violence, smut, feisty!reader, and a Sheriff who is super sweet on her. I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think :)

You can read Into the West here!

[rynwritesstuff]

Into the West - Sheriff!Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Sheriff!Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Warnings: Brief period-accurate shittiness towards women, mentions of blood, brief violence, NSFW, (unprotected) PIV sex, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Based on a request by the magnificent @safarigirlsp! Sheriff Flip and reader have some eye-opening sex after an incident at the saloon, which reader runs.

The sun is setting over the small Western town. There’s a breeze – soft but there nonetheless – and Sheriff Zimmerman’s hair blows gently before he puts his hat back on. His boots dig into the sandy road as he walks along. His head is held high and his gun is holstered at his hip. Women turn to look as he passes by, and he bites back a smile as he chews on his tobacco. 

Horses whinny and neigh, carriage wheels turn, and working men grunt. The sounds of the town are music to Sheriff Zimmerman’s ears. Nothing is awry. Nothing is out of place. Nothing is wrong. He turns the corner, brows furrowing as the bright sunset peers down at him through the clouds. Zimmerman brings a hand up, blocking the light from his view as he continues on down the way. 

“Sheriff?” a voice calls. Zimmerman looks around as quick footsteps approach. The Sheriff smiles, glad to see his good friend, John Bartlett, approaching. He’s a small man with strawberry hair and red cheeks to match. His brows are knit together, but Sheriff Zimmerman hopes that it’s because of the bright sun and not out of concern. “Ah,” Zimmerman says, “John. Evenin’–”

“There’s a tussle in the saloon,” John tells Zimmerman. “The owner, she–”

John is hardly able to get his words out before Sheriff Zimmerman is taking off down the road, hand flying down to his gun. He knows you’re working tonight. Oh, for Christ’s sake, you work every damn night. You work too much, you deal with too many men who wanna play with fire, something was bound to happen at some point, wasn’t it? 

Zimmerman bursts into the saloon, hand still resting on his holstered gun. People’s heads turn. The music isn’t playing, but Zimmerman figures that it hasn’t been for a while. It almost always stops when something starts happening. It’s in people’s nature to wanna hear the goings on, he supposes. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” comes a loud, familiar voice. Your voice. Zimmerman’s eyes widen, and as he surges forward to round the corner, he hears the sound of glass shattering, then stumbling. He turns the corner, and just as he does, a man falls to the ground in front of him. Zimmerman moves back so that the gentleman doesn’t fall on him, then looks up with wild, confused eyes. You stand in front of the floored man, a broken bottle in hand. Your chest, which is accentuated by your corseted dress, rises and falls quickly.

Your eyes meet the Sheriff’s and he steps up to you as everyone in the room goes silent. He says your name, soft and purposeful. You watch as he approaches you. 

“Let me have that,” Zimmerman says, reaching for the jagged bottle top. You move away. He pauses, then says your name again. 

“The fucker came at me,” you say quickly. You gesture to your arm. “He grabbed me right here, right here–”

“If he tries again, I’ll shoot ‘im,” Zimmerman says in that honest tone of his. You know he’s not lying to you like all the other men in this town do. “Give me to bottle, I don’t want you t’cut yourself.”

You exhale softly, then hand it over. Zimmerman looks at the man on the ground. His head is bleeding where you hit him, and he’s groaning softly. He’s covered in beer and broken glass, and you clench your jaw at the sight. He tries to get up, but Zimmerman nudges him back down. He groans. 

“Let him get back up,” you say, adrenaline pumping. “Let him come at me again, I swear I’ll–”

“I’ll take it from here,” Sheriff Zimmerman says firmly, looking back at you. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. His eyes dart down to your hand, the one holding the bottle. You look down too. Blood drips from your hand to the hardwood floor. You didn’t even feel it. You bring your hand up to rest against your chest carefully, letting yourself bleed onto your dress. It’ll come out, you remind yourself. It’ll come right out. 

Zimmerman grabs a pair of cuffs from his belt, then demands that the man on the ground roll onto his stomach. He does so slowly, clearly not wanting to get further hurt by the glass, but the Sheriff doesn’t seem to care all that much about the glass as he leans down and chains the man’s wrists together. He yanks him up to his feet, then starts towards the door. You let out another shaky breath, then look around the saloon. 

“Get back to your drinks,” you say grimly. You turn away as the music starts back up. You throw the bottle top into the trash, then reach for the broom with trembling hands. Your hand. You feel it, now, the sharp, throbbing pain in it, and pause. One of the barkeeps approaches you with a small smile. 

“I’ll get the mess,” she says to you. “Go wash up.”

You nod, then silently move upstairs to your quarters. There’s an angry lump in your throat. The audacity of that man, you think as you start the water in your washroom. The fucking nerve of him to put his hands on me. I should’ve jammed that broken bottle right into his–

You shake your head as you pull some alcohol from the cupboard and unscrew the top. 

“Fuckin’ Zimmerman,” you whisper. You pour the alcohol over the cut, cringing as you do. “I had it all under-control. Everything was under fuckin’ control.”

The sun has almost completely set, now, and when you put your hand beneath the warm running water, you glance out the window at the town you love so dearly. You really do find this town beautiful and full of hope – if only the men would stop treating you like garbage. 

How many times have you had to defend yourself like this? How many times have you had to push back or pull away or tell a man off? What a curse it is to live in a time where men don’t know how to treat a goddamn woman right.

Still, life goes on. The saloon draws in money, enough for you to keep this place open and thriving. You’ve made a name for yourself out here. You know damn-near everyone’s drink orders by heart, you know names and faces, you know the different walks of life your patrons come from. That’s a gift, being able to hold all of it.

But sometimes you’re tired, and tonight is one of those nights. You dry off your hand and wrap it up, not knowing how much time has passed. On your way back downstairs, you hear feet coming up. The footfall is heavy – a man’s. Your heart surges, and you consider turning back, going to get your gun, but it’s pointless when you see who it is. You exhale. 

“You fuckin’ scared me, Zimmerman,” you huff as the Sheriff ascends the steps. He offers you a smile. 

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, ma’am,” he tells you as he continues towards you. 

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” you say, crossing your arms. Zimmerman stops on the step beneath yours, but he’s so tall that you still have to tilt your head to look him in the eye like this. His smile widens. 

“I thought about you all day long, miss.”

The corner of your mouth turns up. You hate how soft he makes you, but you also fucking love it.

“All day? How’s that?”

“Well,” the Sheriff starts, sliding his hands over your hips, “I woke up and thought about you while I washed up. Then, I thought about you while I got dressed, and headed down to the jail, and–”

“Alright, alright,” you say, pushing at his chest. “Enough’a that.”

Zimmerman catches your wrist. His smile fades slightly. 

“Your hand. It’s alright?”

You nod. 

“Just a small cut,” you say. 

“I’m glad you got ‘im before I did,” he says. You sigh. You know what he means. 

“I know,” you say, looking away. Zimmerman squeezes your hips. 

“Lookit me.” You do. “I’m here to give you a good time.”

Somehow, that lump in your throat is back. Are you angry, still? Or is it something else, do you think? You’ve got half a mind to wrap your arms around him and cry. That’s so unlike you. He knows you’re sweet on him, though, and he is, too. He’d probably welcome any crying, any tears you’ve got in you, but you just can’t. 

“A good time. Zimmerman, what–”

“Don’t call me that,” the Sheriff says quietly. It’s a soft request. A prayer. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck. 

“Flip.”

“Mm.”

“What’re you gonna do to show me a good time, Flip?”

“The same thing I do everytime.”

“No. Give me more than that.”

Flip looks taken aback. His brows furrow slightly. 

“More?”

“That’s right. More. I give all’a myself to this town just to be met with perverts and angry prostitutes and people tryin’ to take down my business, so yes.” You clench your jaw and bring your hands to his cheeks. “I want more.”

Flip glances at your lips, then presses his firmly against them. You sigh, letting your body move forward against his. You pull yourself into him, kissing him back with fervor. 

“I’ll give ya whatever you want, sweetheart,” Flip breathes in-between kisses as you grab onto his collar and tug him up the stairs with you. He goes willingly, and when you reach the top step, Flip pulls you down the hallway to get to your quarters. He turns the handle, and the two of you move inside. He kicks it shut behind him. You unbuckle his belt and toss it aside, letting his gun and other things clatter on the dresser. You unbutton his shirt quickly. 

“Get me out of this dress,” you tell him. He begins to undo it, kissing you again. He lets out a soft grunt against your mouth. He must know that you need this. He must be alright with that. The thought makes you want to weep. 

Flip pulls your dress off and throws it aside, then tugs your shift up over your head, leaving you bare in front of him. You reach down to undo your boots and toss them aside while he shrugs off his shirt. Your body is properly revealed to him when you get your boots off and stand up straight. Flip looks you up and down as you move towards him, and he puts his hands on your cheeks. 

“Prettiest girl in the West,” he says. He kisses you, then, and you never were a religious woman, but this is how you imagine Heaven. If you were to die tonight, you’d die happy and needed. Flip Zimmerman always makes you feel that way. Christ, maybe Heaven isn’t a place, but a feeling. Maybe it’s the way the sunset turns the sky pink and orange. Maybe it’s the way the saloon feels after nine o’clock when the drinks are strong and the music is loud. Or, maybe it’s the way Flip Zimmerman holds your face like you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever seen – like you're the only woman around.

Either way, you’re here now, and you have him like this, and anything else happening outside of this room is unimportant. You get on the bed and Flip follows after you eagerly. 

“Take the rest of your clothes off and get over here,” you tell him, leaning back and watching as he undresses. He chuckles softly. 

“You’re mighty bossy tonight.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you tell him. “I’ve got a lot that I want.”

Flip finishes undressing, his cock hard and proud, you see, and you beckon him towards the bed. He gets on top of you easily and nudges himself against your core. You spread your legs further for him, inviting him to press on.

One of your hands moves up to hold onto his hair, and the other hand rests on his shoulder. You lean up and nibble at his jaw as he presses his tip inside of you. You inhale sharply, then let out a satisfied hum. 

“C’mon, Sheriff,” you breathe, “give it to me rough.”

Flip smiles against you, then thrusts the rest of the way in. You gasp again, brows furrowing.  “Oh, right there,” you sigh. “Right there, give me more, Flip.”

Flip draws his hips back, then pushes them forward again. Your body bounces with each fast thrust. His cock hits your sweet spot over and over and over, and your moans get louder each time. Surely they can hear you downstairs, but you don’t care. How could you when you’ve got Flip like this? How could you, when he’s making you feel this fucking good? You tug at his hair. 

“Is this – Mmm – enough?” Flip asks as he fucks you harshly. You tug on his hair again. 

“Yes, it’s enough, Zimmerman. M-Making me sound n-needy . . . Oh, fuck . . .”

“Not needy,” Flip shakes his head. “Just a woman w-who knows what she wants.”

Your grip on him tightens. He gets you. You like to pretend that he doesn’t sometimes, but he truly does. There’s not another man like Flip Zimmerman. You’ll never need another man as badly as you need him. Hot tears spring into your eyes. 

You’ll never love another man the way you love him. 

“I like a man who u-understands,” you breathe. You smile at him as he pounds into you. Your core clenches around his cock, begging him for more, and he obliges without needing to be told. He gets it. Whatever it is, he gets it. You can always count on that. 

You wrap your legs around him as you pull him closer. You hold him against you, keeping his firm body against yours. It almost feels like an embrace, holding him like this. It almost feels perfect. It almost feels like Heaven. 

“Please,” you breathe. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Flip grunts. He’s close. You moan. 

“Mm, please!”

“I’m almost there,” Flip promises. Sweat beads at his hairline as he continues, and you groan. 

“Fuck, fuck . . . Flip!”

You feel him pull out suddenly, and he grunts as he jerks his cock until he’s cumming across your stomach with a moan. His eyes flutter and his cheeks flush. You love seeing him come undone for you. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you look up at him. You tuck a few pieces of hair behind his ears, then smile at him. 

“How was that?” Flip asks. He goes to grab his handkerchief off of the floor, but you stop him. You don’t want him to pull away just yet. You nod, then kiss him again, blissed out from what he gave to you. You moan quietly against his mouth. 

“More than enough, Sheriff.”

Tagging a few friends: @mrs-gucci @babbushka @safarigirlsp

rynwritesstuff, 2025 | Divider by saradika-graphics

[rynwritesstuff]

Thank you for all of the lovely requests I received yesterday and last night! I can take a few more if anyone has ideas!! <3

Requests Are Open!

I thought I would make an official announcement to let you know that requests are open here on my blog! Please read the guidelines before sending something in :) <3

Happy requesting!

[rynwritesstuff]

Requests Are Open!

I thought I would make an official announcement to let you know that requests are open here on my blog! Please read the guidelines before sending something in :) <3

Happy requesting!

[rynwritesstuff]

Request Guidelines

Below the cut, you will find all guidelines and information needed to make a request here on my blog.

☆ Please remember that I have the right to decline anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't strike my fancy. Please also remember that this is an 18+ space, and you should not be here if you are a minor. ☆

Who I write for: Billy The Kid (Tom Blyth), Coriolanus Snow, Kylo Ren, Flip Zimmerman, Clyde Logan, Charlie Barber, Paterson, and Pale (Burn This). I'm also open to AU's for these characters. If you have an idea for an Adam Driver character that isn't listed, please send me an ask or message.

What I will NOT write: Incest, extremely dark content (murder of reader, rape, etc.), things relating to self-harm or eating disorders. I reserve the right to add things to this list and turn away ideas if they make me uncomfortable.

A few more things to keep in mind: I always try to keep my reader as neutral as possible in terms of descriptions. My writing is for everyone regardless of what you look like. That being said, my reader has a female body because that is what I know as a cis woman.

Please be patient with me, as I am a working individual who sometimes can't find the time to write. I will get to your request when I can if I've decided to write it.

If you want to know if I'm currently taking requests, please refer to my Navigation post and look for the bullet point that says requests are currently... in order to find out

Happy Requesting!

[rynwritesstuff]

Thank you for almost 300 on this even though I’ve been MIA forever <33

Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Thunder claps and booms outside. The rain falls, heavy as hooves against a paved road. Midnight approaches, a massive and dark blanket falling over the town. The window of your bedroom is open, your arms outstretched as if to say: I am here. I am open. I am ready.

Ready, you are, for whatever he may give you tonight. You ache for it, long for it like a man starved and thirsty. Many a time you have gotten drunk off of his touch, and you picture him now, above you with wide eyes like a beast in the night who has caught his prey. His hair, long and dark and wavy – like a black halo around his pale face. His eyes, brown and unshining as they stare into yours. His nose, his cheeks, his forehead – unflushed and white yet still so touchable, so easy to need. 

He is not always nude when he comes to you, but whenever he seems to be, it is something that you savor. You remember the taste of him and bring two of your own fingers to your mouth. You rest them on your tongue. They are heavy when you press down, and your lips close around them. You hunger for him, for the way he makes you feel. What you wouldn’t give, now, to feel those large, cold hands on your breasts, on your cheeks, around your throat . . .

The lawn in the back of the home is well-manicured, trimmed to perfection, but the wind blows leaves and flowers to and fro across it. There is a fountain in the center of the green grass. Rose bushes surround it on both sides, and as you open your eyes and stare out into the wet night, you feel it – you feel him. 

His presence washes over you suddenly, so suddenly that you gasp for breath and pull your fingers from your mouth. Sweet air rushes into your lungs, and a chill runs down your back. However cold it may be, though, it does not diminish the heat between your thighs. The knowledge that he is here, that he sees you . . . It is enough to make your core flood. 

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here. 

Your Kylo Ren.

The ground is wet and cold beneath you. How you got here, you aren’t sure. Your nightgown sticks to you as rain pours from the Heavens. He is coming. You press your hands against the grass as rain water soaks into your clothing from the ground. Your hand moves down your body; over your throat, over your breasts, down your stomach–

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp. 

“You are not for the living,” comes his deep voice. Your breath hitches as Kylo presses his hands against your thighs. He slides his hands up, up, up, and with his movement, your nightgown slides up as well. “You are not for humankind.”

Your bottom lip trembles. 

What an endeavor this is. What sin, what joy. What luck it is that you have this at all. You hardly feel the rain against your face, now. It seems to no longer touch you now that Kylo has thrust himself upon you. You bring your hands up to touch his cheeks. He lets you. 

“Kylo,” you breathe, voice barely audible above the thunder and lightning in the sky. If someone in the house were to look out into the yard, they would hardly see you. The rainfall is too persistent and steadfast for much to be visible through it. You are alone with Kylo Ren, alone amongst the dirt and grass and flowers. 

His tip presses against your core – when did you spread your legs? – and you gasp again, head falling back. His hand comes to rest on your jaw. He holds you there as he presses in. You groan in pleasure, nipples hard from the freezing rain and the pleasure of it all. This is filthy, you know it. You are hardly sure if it’s real or if it’s simply a fantasy you’ve made up for yourself to lessen the pain of being alone, but God, if this is what gets you sent down to the Devil, then perhaps you’ll die pleased. Why see Heaven if erotic pleasures such as this cannot take place?  This is worth it. This is worth everything. 

“Kylo . . .” you moan as his body rocks above you. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes, and hazily, you groan again. Never have you ever felt so full, so complete. The Earth falls away from you. Are you floating, or just imagining it? Is Kylo real, or just a manifestation of all the dirty things you yearn for? 

Oh, what silly questions. None of it matters. Not really. Not now, when his cock is deep inside of you. Dirt stains you – your nightgown, your skin, your hair – But no part of you cares. Perhaps this is what it is like to be buried, you think between thrusts. Heavy. Wet. Cold. Suffocating. Delicious.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you. 

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“You shall be one with me ever-eternally,” Kylo tells you. Your heart swells. He needs you. You are his affliction. What good is a man without a woman? What needs are met? What joys are felt? What is the meaning of anything if Kylo Ren doesn’t have you? “Do you swear it?”

You pull at his hair. You need him. Whatever he will give tonight, you need it now. White hot pleasure fills you. You scream, but the thunder swallows it. He fills you, and the feeling of it makes your body lurch. His hands grip your breasts as you push your chest up. 

“Do you swear it?” Kylo demands again. You feel as if your eyes have opened. Was there a time before him? Does any other man exist? You offer up your chest even further, and he rips open the front of your nightgown. 

“I swear it,” you sigh. Kylo presses his face against the center of your chest, mouth open, and deep down you must know what is coming, because you run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. 

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

Teeth sink into your skin, and you gasp sharply as tears fill your eyes. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Your head is light, your body is numb. You moan softly as he pulls away and looks down at you. His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away the tears and raindrops. 

“You cannot love,” you breathe. A realization, a prayer. Kylo’s mouth presses against yours firmly. You can taste your blood, metallic and warm against the coldness of him. Perhaps this is not a dream . . . 

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

You look into his eyes and hold his cheek. You believe him. A scar runs down the side of his face, and you wonder just how long it has been since this scar was fresh. Somehow, you cannot bring yourself to care about whatever the answer may be. 

“I am yours, just as you are mine,” you say, nodding. Kylo kisses you once more. You close your eyes. The rain is falling against your face again, sharp and chilled. You feel as if you sink against the ground, falling further into the grass. You open your eyes and see nothing but the fountain, the rose bushes, the leaf-strewn lawn. You sit up, soaked from the storm, your heart pounding against your chest. 

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready. 

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

[rynwritesstuff]

The Cabin - Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Warnings: NSFW (PIV sex, dirty talk), bickering, general creepy vibes, potential for supernatural weirdness

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Flip takes you up to the Zimmerman family cabin on a cold, wintery night.

Flip Zimmerman is no stranger to the harsh winds that come with heading up into the Colorado mountains. The air itself feels icy, almost sharp against any and all bare skin. His scruff is frosty, and in this moment, he really fucking wishes he had brought more than his usual fleece-lined jean jacket, but he wasn’t expecting to spend much time outdoors. 

His trusty red truck, though, was beginning to feel strange and abnormal to drive, and sure enough, when Flip had pulled over to investigate, he found a popped tire. Embarrassingly, he’d gone into a curse-filled rant about how fucking stupid this trip is and how this isn’t how the goddamn weekend was supposed to be and, of course, how badly he hates the motherfucker who decided to leave something sharp in the road. It was all bullshit.

And you, because you loved him – and also because you were several hours away from home already – tried to calm him down, to no avail. He didn’t want to hear it, so you stopped and got back into the car like he wanted. 

The sun has begun to set, and as frustrated as you feel, you must admit that you love the view of the mountains against the pink and orange sky. The snow falling creates a dusty effect on the entire view, and you’ve got half a mind to pull out your camera and take a few pictures, but you’re sure Flip wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment. 

You shove your hands beneath your thighs, hoping that doing this will generate some heat for them. The car is getting colder now that it’s turned off. You hum softly, looking to your right at the wooded treeline. The trees are tall and white with snow. They’re thick, too. You wonder how anyone or anything could comfortably move through such a congested forest. 

“Got it!” comes Flip’s voice. You smile as he stands up. 

“Good job, babe!” you say, opening the truck door. You are immediately hit with a frozen gust of wind, and you inhale sharply. “Goddamn.”

“Get back in the–”

“I’m gonna help you put this away so you can warm up,” you tell him over the wind. “Go start the car.”

Flip nods, in no mood to say ‘no’ to the idea of getting into the warm car, and walks around to his side. He gets up into the driver seat and turns the key, making the engine hum to life. The heat immediately starts up. 

Movement. 

Flip glances over to the right. You’re back by the bed of the truck, he notes, and his brows furrow. The trees seem to rustle as something scurries back into the wilderness. Flip gets out of the truck. 

“Here,” he says, keeping his eye on the treeline as he opens your door for you. “I’ll get the rest.”

“You sure?” you ask. Flip nods, and he seems insistent, so you oblige. He quickly finishes loading everything back into the truck bed before getting back into the truck. He locks the doors, which you find odd but not terribly concerning, and he buckles his seatbelt as the hot air blows. 

“Look at me?” you say. Flip turns to you, one hand on the wheel as he prepares to continue up the mountain. You smile at his red face, then cup his cheeks with your warm hands. You give him a quick kiss. 

“This is fine,” you tell him. He nods. “This doesn’t ruin anything.” He nods again. “And I kinda like seein’ you work on the truck, it’s hot.”

Flip cracks a smile at this, then gives you another kiss. 

“I’ll show you ‘hot’ once we get up to the cabin,” he says. You chuckle. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Detective.”

Flip hums and presses on the gas. The truck surges forward up the snowy mountain road. 

The famous Zimmerman cabin is a place you’ve been hearing about since you and Flip began to date. He’s mentioned it countless times, telling you about all of his summers and winters spent there with his family. So much sledding, so much fishing, so much love was experienced there. You’d always sort of wondered if he was talking out of his ass about the whole thing; the two of you have been together for almost six months, now, you figured that any time was a good time, but not Flip. No, he’s too much of a perfectionist. He takes pride in doing things right, so he waited until you really, really needed a break from work to propose a weekend getaway up in the mountains at the Zimmerman family cabin, just the two of you. 

When his truck starts up the path, you immediately notice just how wooded it is – it’s almost the same as the forest you’d seen earlier, down by where Flip was changing the tire. 

“Did you and your cousins used to play out here?” you ask as gravel and snow crunch beneath the truck’s tires. Flip smiles. 

“All the time,” he says. “Hide n’ seek was our favorite.”

“This seems like a good place for hide n’ seek.”

“It was,” he nods. “It would be a group of six or seven of us out here at night–”

“At night? Here, in the woods?”

“Fuck yeah, it was terrifying!” Flip laughs. “We loved it. The worst was being found last.”

“How’s that?”

“You just know there’s a pack out there lookin’ for you. All you could hear was your own breathing and the little fuckin’ bugs, and you’d hear their footsteps getting closer, and closer, and sometimes they’d sneak up on you just to scare the shit outta you . . .” Flip chuckles. “I loved it.”

You shudder. 

“I think I’d be too freaked out.”

“Well, luckily we don’t have to play,” Flip says as he pulls up to the cabin. You look up, brows raised as you take in the sight. It’s bigger than you thought, with beautiful woodwork and a vintage feel. You smile. 

“Oh, wow,” you say, looking out the window as Flip parks the truck and turns it off. “It’s so pretty.”

“It’s even better inside. C’mon, help me so we don’t have to take two trips.”

The two of you get out of the truck. You try to ignore the strange feeling you have in your gut. You can’t quite place the feeling, but you know you’d like to get inside. After all, the sun has almost completely set, and visibility is low due to the thick trees. 

You take your bags and Flip takes his. Snow cracks underfoot as you trudge up to the front door. Flip unlocks it, and you step inside. You smile brightly as Flip comes in behind you. You listen to him re-lock the door as you look over the cabin’s interior. 

The sitting area and kitchen flow together, clearly meaning to make the entire first floor feel social and open. The hardwood floors are beautiful and solid. A large rug sits in the center of couches and chairs facing one another. An old TV sits on a television stand at the front of the room. A hallway is visible, leading to, presumably, a bathroom. Closer to the kitchen is another hallway, which leads to a dining room. 

You turn to the left, running your hand along the railing of the stairs as Flip walks around turning on lights. You start upstairs. The steps creak as you go. The second floor of the cabin is loft-style: The entire first floor is visible if you simply peer over the rail wrapping along the large landing. You count three bedrooms and a second bathroom upstairs before Flip comes up behind you with his own bags. 

“Master bedroom’s down here,” he says, stepping in front of you and turning on more lights. You follow him down the hall and into the bedroom. It’s large and spacious, with a nice, big window overlooking the side yard of the cabin. 

“There’s a firepit out back, but it’s too cold to use, I think,” Flip says. “Unless you really fuckin’ want a fire.”

You smile, setting your bags down and walking towards him. 

“What I really want is you, Detective Zimmerman,” you say, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. Flip drops his bags and puts his hands on your hips. You smile up at him with a twinkle in your eye that he could recognize anywhere. 

“You’re all worked up already?” Flip asks, smiling softly. You sway teasingly, your hips moving from side to side as flip continues to hold them.  “I can’t help it. You just look so fucking good . . .”

Flip’s hands slide down lower to grip your ass, and your smile widens. He kisses you, then, and your mouth works against his desperately. Your hands slide up along his cheeks as he tugs you closer. The heat of his body draws you in and makes you hunger for him. His erection is present and obvious, and you let one of your hands slide down to hold him. 

“You’re worked up, too,” you breathe as he runs his teeth along your jaw and pushes your jacket off your shoulders. Your arms fall back so that the jacket can hit the ground, then you touch him again. Flip’s breath catches. 

“‘Cause you’re kissin’ me like that,” Flip says. His large hands give your ass a squeeze, and you press yourself against him solidly. You push off his jacket and it falls down beside his bags. 

Flip’s hands travel up your body, and he pulls at your shirt. You know exactly what he wants, and you have half a mind to tease him, but you want it, too. You let him pull your shirt up over your head, and he throws it into the pile of bags and clothes already on the floor. 

“Mmm, very forward today, Detective . . .”

You step back towards the bed, then sit down on it. You take a moment to remove your boots while Flip does the same, and once his boots are off, he’s on you, his hands pressing against your breasts firmly. He fits his body between your legs, leaning back only to remove your pants and underwear for you. You grind up against his belt buckle, shuddering at the coldness of it while Flip squeezes your thigh and kisses along your jaw. 

“Take your fuckin’ pants off,” you breathe, a hand in his hair as he kisses your skin. He chuckles quietly, but leans back anyway. His hands go to his belt, and he undoes it. Watching Flip undress always makes you feel lucky, and you suspect it always will. Outside, the wind blows and howls and whistles. You feel cozy and warm inside, especially now that Flip is naked from the waist down. You run your hands along his skin as he gets on top of you again. 

Your legs spread for him, and this serves as an invitation for him to make himself comfortable. He brings a hand to his erection, gives it a few strokes, then presses his tip against your entrance. You hum, smiling up at him. 

“C’mon, don’t tease me,” you say, tugging on his hair. 

“Why not? It’s so much fun.”

You hit his chest playfully. 

“You’re a sadist,” you tell him, lifting your hips. “Get on with it, Detective. I haven’t got all–”

He thrusts in, cutting you off. You gasp as he begins to rock his hips steadily. Your core clenches around him, and Flip grunts. Your breasts bounce, the bed creaks. You close your eyes and think of all the poor fuckin’ people who’ll never get to have this. This . . . Damn, this is as close to bliss as you’ll ever be. Your head falls back, your eyes roll. You feel Flip’s hands on your wrists, pinning you down as he fucks you into the squeaky mattress. 

“O-Oh shit,” you breathe. Flip grunts and sighs above you, his hair falling into his face. He looks so handsome like this. “I love you.”

Flip kisses you, then nips at your bottom lip. 

“I love you, too, babe,” Flip says. “Mm. S-So fuckin’ wet . . .”

You laugh softly, shakily. 

“How romantic,” you sigh. “Ohhh, fuck, Flip . . .”

His thrusts are getting fast and sloppy and hard, and you clench your hands into fists where he holds you down. You lift your hips again, and when his cock hits you at a new angle, a better angle, you groan. It only encourages him. He loves knowing that he’s making his girl feel good. He loves knowing when you're enjoying yourself. 

You lean up and kiss him again. Tree branches brush against the cabin angrily, hitting the windows and the wooden exterior, but you pay it no mind. A moan escapes you. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck–”

Pop!

Darkness. 

You startle. Flip’s hips halt suddenly, and the only sound that is audible is the sound of breathing. You can’t even see Flip, who is mere inches in front of you. You cling to him in the dark, holding his hands. 

“Flip?”

“I know.”

“Was it the wind?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll have to check the fuse box.”

“Where’s that?” 

“Out back.”

You weren’t scared when you arrived, not really anyway, but it’s totally dark outside now, and the idea of accompanying Flip out into the yard sends a chill over your nude body. Still, you know you should offer. You feel him pull out with a grunt, and the weight on the bed shifts as he gets off. You reach into the dark, but it's no use. You can’t see a damn thing. You let out a shaky breath as you listen to Flip rummaging through something – the bedside drawer, perhaps? – and before you know it, a dim light fills the bedroom. He’s found a flashlight.

“Toss me my stuff,” you tell him, pointing to your clothes on the ground. He does so, and you begin to get dressed as he sets the flashlight down and begins to do the same. 

“You can stay here while I go outside,” Flip says. “I should be right back and we can finish this.”

“You don’t want me to come with?” you ask. The wind is persistent and harsh outside, and for a moment, you foolishly wonder if the windows are going to shatter from the force of it. Flip shakes his head. 

“No, no. It’s bad out there.”

“Is there another flashlight?” you ask. Flip nods, then points to the other bedside table. 

“Should be one in there.”

You crawl across the bed to open the drawer, and sure enough, there’s an old flashlight inside. You turn it on. It’s a bit brighter than Flip’s. You pull on your shirt, then your underwear, then wrap the blanket around yourself. When you look up again, Flip is fully dressed.

“Hurry back,” you say. Flip nods, then gives you a quick kiss as he pulls on his jacket.

“I will.”

He leaves. You listen to his footsteps recede until you can no longer hear them, and then you wait. The cabin is completely silent, almost eerily so. You look over at the window. Outside, you can see the snow and the faint shadow of the trees shaking from the wind. You pull the blanket tighter. 

You hear it, then. A loud thud, a thud so loud that you swear you feel the walls shake. And then–

A yell. 

You startle. 

“Flip?!” you call into the darkness, holding your flashlight. No response comes, and you stand up quickly. 

“Flip?” you call again, louder this time. Once again, no response. Your heart sinks, and a dreadful feeling washes over you. 

What happened to him?

Tagging some besties: @mrs-gucci @safarigirlsp @babbushka

Dividers by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

[rynwritesstuff]

I promise I haven’t forgotten, work is just kicking my ass! Hoping to finish it for yall either today or tomorrow <3

Raise your hand if you want some creepy, wintery, snowy, dark cabin vibes with Flip Zimmerman

[rynwritesstuff]

Raise your hand if you want some creepy, wintery, snowy, dark cabin vibes with Flip Zimmerman

[rynwritesstuff]

THOSE EDITS THOUGH 🙌🏻🙌🏻

Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Thunder claps and booms outside. The rain falls, heavy as hooves against a paved road. Midnight approaches, a massive and dark blanket falling over the town. The window of your bedroom is open, your arms outstretched as if to say: I am here. I am open. I am ready.

Ready, you are, for whatever he may give you tonight. You ache for it, long for it like a man starved and thirsty. Many a time you have gotten drunk off of his touch, and you picture him now, above you with wide eyes like a beast in the night who has caught his prey. His hair, long and dark and wavy – like a black halo around his pale face. His eyes, brown and unshining as they stare into yours. His nose, his cheeks, his forehead – unflushed and white yet still so touchable, so easy to need. 

He is not always nude when he comes to you, but whenever he seems to be, it is something that you savor. You remember the taste of him and bring two of your own fingers to your mouth. You rest them on your tongue. They are heavy when you press down, and your lips close around them. You hunger for him, for the way he makes you feel. What you wouldn’t give, now, to feel those large, cold hands on your breasts, on your cheeks, around your throat . . .

The lawn in the back of the home is well-manicured, trimmed to perfection, but the wind blows leaves and flowers to and fro across it. There is a fountain in the center of the green grass. Rose bushes surround it on both sides, and as you open your eyes and stare out into the wet night, you feel it – you feel him. 

His presence washes over you suddenly, so suddenly that you gasp for breath and pull your fingers from your mouth. Sweet air rushes into your lungs, and a chill runs down your back. However cold it may be, though, it does not diminish the heat between your thighs. The knowledge that he is here, that he sees you . . . It is enough to make your core flood. 

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here. 

Your Kylo Ren.

The ground is wet and cold beneath you. How you got here, you aren’t sure. Your nightgown sticks to you as rain pours from the Heavens. He is coming. You press your hands against the grass as rain water soaks into your clothing from the ground. Your hand moves down your body; over your throat, over your breasts, down your stomach–

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp. 

“You are not for the living,” comes his deep voice. Your breath hitches as Kylo presses his hands against your thighs. He slides his hands up, up, up, and with his movement, your nightgown slides up as well. “You are not for humankind.”

Your bottom lip trembles. 

What an endeavor this is. What sin, what joy. What luck it is that you have this at all. You hardly feel the rain against your face, now. It seems to no longer touch you now that Kylo has thrust himself upon you. You bring your hands up to touch his cheeks. He lets you. 

“Kylo,” you breathe, voice barely audible above the thunder and lightning in the sky. If someone in the house were to look out into the yard, they would hardly see you. The rainfall is too persistent and steadfast for much to be visible through it. You are alone with Kylo Ren, alone amongst the dirt and grass and flowers. 

His tip presses against your core – when did you spread your legs? – and you gasp again, head falling back. His hand comes to rest on your jaw. He holds you there as he presses in. You groan in pleasure, nipples hard from the freezing rain and the pleasure of it all. This is filthy, you know it. You are hardly sure if it’s real or if it’s simply a fantasy you’ve made up for yourself to lessen the pain of being alone, but God, if this is what gets you sent down to the Devil, then perhaps you’ll die pleased. Why see Heaven if erotic pleasures such as this cannot take place?  This is worth it. This is worth everything. 

“Kylo . . .” you moan as his body rocks above you. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes, and hazily, you groan again. Never have you ever felt so full, so complete. The Earth falls away from you. Are you floating, or just imagining it? Is Kylo real, or just a manifestation of all the dirty things you yearn for? 

Oh, what silly questions. None of it matters. Not really. Not now, when his cock is deep inside of you. Dirt stains you – your nightgown, your skin, your hair – But no part of you cares. Perhaps this is what it is like to be buried, you think between thrusts. Heavy. Wet. Cold. Suffocating. Delicious.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you. 

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“You shall be one with me ever-eternally,” Kylo tells you. Your heart swells. He needs you. You are his affliction. What good is a man without a woman? What needs are met? What joys are felt? What is the meaning of anything if Kylo Ren doesn’t have you? “Do you swear it?”

You pull at his hair. You need him. Whatever he will give tonight, you need it now. White hot pleasure fills you. You scream, but the thunder swallows it. He fills you, and the feeling of it makes your body lurch. His hands grip your breasts as you push your chest up. 

“Do you swear it?” Kylo demands again. You feel as if your eyes have opened. Was there a time before him? Does any other man exist? You offer up your chest even further, and he rips open the front of your nightgown. 

“I swear it,” you sigh. Kylo presses his face against the center of your chest, mouth open, and deep down you must know what is coming, because you run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. 

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

Teeth sink into your skin, and you gasp sharply as tears fill your eyes. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Your head is light, your body is numb. You moan softly as he pulls away and looks down at you. His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away the tears and raindrops. 

“You cannot love,” you breathe. A realization, a prayer. Kylo’s mouth presses against yours firmly. You can taste your blood, metallic and warm against the coldness of him. Perhaps this is not a dream . . . 

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

You look into his eyes and hold his cheek. You believe him. A scar runs down the side of his face, and you wonder just how long it has been since this scar was fresh. Somehow, you cannot bring yourself to care about whatever the answer may be. 

“I am yours, just as you are mine,” you say, nodding. Kylo kisses you once more. You close your eyes. The rain is falling against your face again, sharp and chilled. You feel as if you sink against the ground, falling further into the grass. You open your eyes and see nothing but the fountain, the rose bushes, the leaf-strewn lawn. You sit up, soaked from the storm, your heart pounding against your chest. 

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready. 

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

[rynwritesstuff]

Oh my gosh fun! These are so rare lol, thank you for the tag, Shannon!!

Fun fact, I'm the pickiest woman ever and only like two (2) men -- Adam Driver and Tom Blyth -- so I'm instead doing my top 9 characters played by those two men lmao :)

Kylo Ren (my number one man forever and always)

Billy The Kid

Flip Zimmerman

Coriolanus Snow

Charlie Barber

Pale

Clyde Logan

Paterson

Maurizio Gucci

Tagging my other besties! @mrs-gucci and @babbushka <3

Fictional Crush Tag Game! 💕

One of my lovely moots invited me to participate in a tag game that I couldn't possibly refuse! The rules were 4 crushes and tag 4 friends, but um.... I couldn't choose 4, so I chose 9! Here you go! Some of my fictional character crushes. None of them should be surprising.

Tagging some moots and friends in case they want to join in! @safarigirlsp @cillmequick @zablife @queenandkingofthedragons @deblou008 @eternalstrigoii

[rynwritesstuff]

Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Thunder claps and booms outside. The rain falls, heavy as hooves against a paved road. Midnight approaches, a massive and dark blanket falling over the town. The window of your bedroom is open, your arms outstretched as if to say: I am here. I am open. I am ready.

Ready, you are, for whatever he may give you tonight. You ache for it, long for it like a man starved and thirsty. Many a time you have gotten drunk off of his touch, and you picture him now, above you with wide eyes like a beast in the night who has caught his prey. His hair, long and dark and wavy – like a black halo around his pale face. His eyes, brown and unshining as they stare into yours. His nose, his cheeks, his forehead – unflushed and white yet still so touchable, so easy to need. 

He is not always nude when he comes to you, but whenever he seems to be, it is something that you savor. You remember the taste of him and bring two of your own fingers to your mouth. You rest them on your tongue. They are heavy when you press down, and your lips close around them. You hunger for him, for the way he makes you feel. What you wouldn’t give, now, to feel those large, cold hands on your breasts, on your cheeks, around your throat . . .

The lawn in the back of the home is well-manicured, trimmed to perfection, but the wind blows leaves and flowers to and fro across it. There is a fountain in the center of the green grass. Rose bushes surround it on both sides, and as you open your eyes and stare out into the wet night, you feel it – you feel him. 

His presence washes over you suddenly, so suddenly that you gasp for breath and pull your fingers from your mouth. Sweet air rushes into your lungs, and a chill runs down your back. However cold it may be, though, it does not diminish the heat between your thighs. The knowledge that he is here, that he sees you . . . It is enough to make your core flood. 

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here. 

Your Kylo Ren.

The ground is wet and cold beneath you. How you got here, you aren’t sure. Your nightgown sticks to you as rain pours from the Heavens. He is coming. You press your hands against the grass as rain water soaks into your clothing from the ground. Your hand moves down your body; over your throat, over your breasts, down your stomach–

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp. 

“You are not for the living,” comes his deep voice. Your breath hitches as Kylo presses his hands against your thighs. He slides his hands up, up, up, and with his movement, your nightgown slides up as well. “You are not for humankind.”

Your bottom lip trembles. 

What an endeavor this is. What sin, what joy. What luck it is that you have this at all. You hardly feel the rain against your face, now. It seems to no longer touch you now that Kylo has thrust himself upon you. You bring your hands up to touch his cheeks. He lets you. 

“Kylo,” you breathe, voice barely audible above the thunder and lightning in the sky. If someone in the house were to look out into the yard, they would hardly see you. The rainfall is too persistent and steadfast for much to be visible through it. You are alone with Kylo Ren, alone amongst the dirt and grass and flowers. 

His tip presses against your core – when did you spread your legs? – and you gasp again, head falling back. His hand comes to rest on your jaw. He holds you there as he presses in. You groan in pleasure, nipples hard from the freezing rain and the pleasure of it all. This is filthy, you know it. You are hardly sure if it’s real or if it’s simply a fantasy you’ve made up for yourself to lessen the pain of being alone, but God, if this is what gets you sent down to the Devil, then perhaps you’ll die pleased. Why see Heaven if erotic pleasures such as this cannot take place?  This is worth it. This is worth everything. 

“Kylo . . .” you moan as his body rocks above you. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes, and hazily, you groan again. Never have you ever felt so full, so complete. The Earth falls away from you. Are you floating, or just imagining it? Is Kylo real, or just a manifestation of all the dirty things you yearn for? 

Oh, what silly questions. None of it matters. Not really. Not now, when his cock is deep inside of you. Dirt stains you – your nightgown, your skin, your hair – But no part of you cares. Perhaps this is what it is like to be buried, you think between thrusts. Heavy. Wet. Cold. Suffocating. Delicious.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you. 

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“You shall be one with me ever-eternally,” Kylo tells you. Your heart swells. He needs you. You are his affliction. What good is a man without a woman? What needs are met? What joys are felt? What is the meaning of anything if Kylo Ren doesn’t have you? “Do you swear it?”

You pull at his hair. You need him. Whatever he will give tonight, you need it now. White hot pleasure fills you. You scream, but the thunder swallows it. He fills you, and the feeling of it makes your body lurch. His hands grip your breasts as you push your chest up. 

“Do you swear it?” Kylo demands again. You feel as if your eyes have opened. Was there a time before him? Does any other man exist? You offer up your chest even further, and he rips open the front of your nightgown. 

“I swear it,” you sigh. Kylo presses his face against the center of your chest, mouth open, and deep down you must know what is coming, because you run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. 

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

Teeth sink into your skin, and you gasp sharply as tears fill your eyes. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Your head is light, your body is numb. You moan softly as he pulls away and looks down at you. His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away the tears and raindrops. 

“You cannot love,” you breathe. A realization, a prayer. Kylo’s mouth presses against yours firmly. You can taste your blood, metallic and warm against the coldness of him. Perhaps this is not a dream . . . 

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

You look into his eyes and hold his cheek. You believe him. A scar runs down the side of his face, and you wonder just how long it has been since this scar was fresh. Somehow, you cannot bring yourself to care about whatever the answer may be. 

“I am yours, just as you are mine,” you say, nodding. Kylo kisses you once more. You close your eyes. The rain is falling against your face again, sharp and chilled. You feel as if you sink against the ground, falling further into the grass. You open your eyes and see nothing but the fountain, the rose bushes, the leaf-strewn lawn. You sit up, soaked from the storm, your heart pounding against your chest. 

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready. 

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

[rynwritesstuff]

Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Thunder claps and booms outside. The rain falls, heavy as hooves against a paved road. Midnight approaches, a massive and dark blanket falling over the town. The window of your bedroom is open, your arms outstretched as if to say: I am here. I am open. I am ready.

Ready, you are, for whatever he may give you tonight. You ache for it, long for it like a man starved and thirsty. Many a time you have gotten drunk off of his touch, and you picture him now, above you with wide eyes like a beast in the night who has caught his prey. His hair, long and dark and wavy – like a black halo around his pale face. His eyes, brown and unshining as they stare into yours. His nose, his cheeks, his forehead – unflushed and white yet still so touchable, so easy to need. 

He is not always nude when he comes to you, but whenever he seems to be, it is something that you savor. You remember the taste of him and bring two of your own fingers to your mouth. You rest them on your tongue. They are heavy when you press down, and your lips close around them. You hunger for him, for the way he makes you feel. What you wouldn’t give, now, to feel those large, cold hands on your breasts, on your cheeks, around your throat . . .

The lawn in the back of the home is well-manicured, trimmed to perfection, but the wind blows leaves and flowers to and fro across it. There is a fountain in the center of the green grass. Rose bushes surround it on both sides, and as you open your eyes and stare out into the wet night, you feel it – you feel him. 

His presence washes over you suddenly, so suddenly that you gasp for breath and pull your fingers from your mouth. Sweet air rushes into your lungs, and a chill runs down your back. However cold it may be, though, it does not diminish the heat between your thighs. The knowledge that he is here, that he sees you . . . It is enough to make your core flood. 

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here. 

Your Kylo Ren.

The ground is wet and cold beneath you. How you got here, you aren’t sure. Your nightgown sticks to you as rain pours from the Heavens. He is coming. You press your hands against the grass as rain water soaks into your clothing from the ground. Your hand moves down your body; over your throat, over your breasts, down your stomach–

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp. 

“You are not for the living,” comes his deep voice. Your breath hitches as Kylo presses his hands against your thighs. He slides his hands up, up, up, and with his movement, your nightgown slides up as well. “You are not for humankind.”

Your bottom lip trembles. 

What an endeavor this is. What sin, what joy. What luck it is that you have this at all. You hardly feel the rain against your face, now. It seems to no longer touch you now that Kylo has thrust himself upon you. You bring your hands up to touch his cheeks. He lets you. 

“Kylo,” you breathe, voice barely audible above the thunder and lightning in the sky. If someone in the house were to look out into the yard, they would hardly see you. The rainfall is too persistent and steadfast for much to be visible through it. You are alone with Kylo Ren, alone amongst the dirt and grass and flowers. 

His tip presses against your core – when did you spread your legs? – and you gasp again, head falling back. His hand comes to rest on your jaw. He holds you there as he presses in. You groan in pleasure, nipples hard from the freezing rain and the pleasure of it all. This is filthy, you know it. You are hardly sure if it’s real or if it’s simply a fantasy you’ve made up for yourself to lessen the pain of being alone, but God, if this is what gets you sent down to the Devil, then perhaps you’ll die pleased. Why see Heaven if erotic pleasures such as this cannot take place?  This is worth it. This is worth everything. 

“Kylo . . .” you moan as his body rocks above you. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes, and hazily, you groan again. Never have you ever felt so full, so complete. The Earth falls away from you. Are you floating, or just imagining it? Is Kylo real, or just a manifestation of all the dirty things you yearn for? 

Oh, what silly questions. None of it matters. Not really. Not now, when his cock is deep inside of you. Dirt stains you – your nightgown, your skin, your hair – But no part of you cares. Perhaps this is what it is like to be buried, you think between thrusts. Heavy. Wet. Cold. Suffocating. Delicious.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you. 

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“You shall be one with me ever-eternally,” Kylo tells you. Your heart swells. He needs you. You are his affliction. What good is a man without a woman? What needs are met? What joys are felt? What is the meaning of anything if Kylo Ren doesn’t have you? “Do you swear it?”

You pull at his hair. You need him. Whatever he will give tonight, you need it now. White hot pleasure fills you. You scream, but the thunder swallows it. He fills you, and the feeling of it makes your body lurch. His hands grip your breasts as you push your chest up. 

“Do you swear it?” Kylo demands again. You feel as if your eyes have opened. Was there a time before him? Does any other man exist? You offer up your chest even further, and he rips open the front of your nightgown. 

“I swear it,” you sigh. Kylo presses his face against the center of your chest, mouth open, and deep down you must know what is coming, because you run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. 

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

Teeth sink into your skin, and you gasp sharply as tears fill your eyes. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Your head is light, your body is numb. You moan softly as he pulls away and looks down at you. His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away the tears and raindrops. 

“You cannot love,” you breathe. A realization, a prayer. Kylo’s mouth presses against yours firmly. You can taste your blood, metallic and warm against the coldness of him. Perhaps this is not a dream . . . 

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

You look into his eyes and hold his cheek. You believe him. A scar runs down the side of his face, and you wonder just how long it has been since this scar was fresh. Somehow, you cannot bring yourself to care about whatever the answer may be. 

“I am yours, just as you are mine,” you say, nodding. Kylo kisses you once more. You close your eyes. The rain is falling against your face again, sharp and chilled. You feel as if you sink against the ground, falling further into the grass. You open your eyes and see nothing but the fountain, the rose bushes, the leaf-strewn lawn. You sit up, soaked from the storm, your heart pounding against your chest. 

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready. 

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025