#A strange letter...[Anon]

[constelationprize]

something i often think about in relation to kayleigh day is we don't actually know anything about her

she could have been as abusive as tetsuji or at least close to it and it's not like kevin would've been able to tell

i dont actually believe she was abusive but its an interesting thought, that in any universe kevin would have ended up with an abuser at one point

God that would be fucked up. Entirely plausible, though. A big point of the Kayleigh Lives AU is that I don't believe that anything could have stopped Kevin from going down the path he did, not just because of The Plot™, but because it's integral to how the AFTG universe works that the Moriyama's will get what they want, and I can't see a reality where Tetsuji doesn't want Kevin for his team. I can see a universe where, if their worldviews were similar enough, Kayleigh could surrender him willingly to Tetsuji.

But yeah part of what makes me so interested in Kayleigh is how much of a character she isn't, you know? Even compared to the other Dead Moms™, we know very little about her personally. The circustances of her death and the details of what her relationship with Wymack was like all are things Nora only answered in the EC. And I think it's fun to extrapolate what she might have actually been like. What we know of her personality comes from very biased sources, people who loved her, and the picture of the kind, generous person is a sharp contrast to the actual facts we know about her. I don't think I can say enough times that LIYING to someone, with whom you had an otherwise positive relationship, about having their child because YOU think that's what would be best for them is not a Good Person thing to do. It's very fun playing with the contradictions! I love ruthless evil ambitious Kayleigh just as much as well-intentioned naively optmistic Kayleigh and everything in between.

Realistically, she probably wasn't neither good nor bad. They (Kengo Moriyama) just hated to see a girlboss winning.

[protagonistau]

You match! 😍😍

>"Are these... Rat ears?"

[You feel the ears and, sure enough, they are.]

>"How did you do this to me..?"

[Cashew continues sniffing your rat ears with curiosity.]

[2/10]

[maidonduty]

Tag dump pls ignore

[passionlead]

Tags just ignore

[idiotmf]

omg please write a piece about reader getting fucked by a ghost i neeeeed it

Hey, anon! Fear not, I shall deliver. I wasn't sure whether you wanted afab or amab, so I went with the usual afab. I'm happy to rewrite it into amab, if anyone wants it!（＾ω＾）

Edit: Here is the amab version!

Feel free to send me asks and requests or little imagines, I'm always happy to expand upon it, it gets the creative juices flowing a little. ^-^

NSFW, Minors DNI, I can see you.

TW: dub-con

Anyway, enough talk. Here's Reader getting not-so-respectfully railed by a ghost:

When your grandma left you a house after she passed, you assumed your troubles would finally be over, and for a while, they were. When you moved in, things were amazing. You didn't have to worry about rent anymore, and the utilities were surprisingly cheap. It's like you hit the jackpot, finally able to live with a few less worries.

Obviously, when you weren't working or hanging out with the odd friend that came over, you spent your time at home, keeping yourself occupied, mostly by either watching something, playing something, or masturbating out of boredom.

Things continued like that for a while, until you found a rather cryptic note from your late grandma that explained in unnecessary detail how there was a ghost living in the house. She strictly referred to the ghost as "him" and mentioned he was fairly friendly, unless provoked, and even then he would only play pranks on you.

Being the rational person that you are, you chalked it up to grandma being senile and that she was just keeping herself entertained since she lived in the house all alone. It would have been fine if that's where it stopped.

One night, your old friend came over, and you did your usual routine of watching something, and then halfway through, you ended up fucking. That's where it really all began.

The next morning, things were on the ground, not like someone had ransacked the place, but it was noticeable enough, though of course you thought it must've been just your old friend who had knocked some stuff over while leaving in a hurry. When you went to bend over to pick some things up, you could feel something grabbing your ass, and without hesitation, you turned around, only to be faced with nothing. Maybe you were going crazy, you thought; it wasn't an awfully strong grip, so maybe it was something your body did.

This excuse became increasingly less effective as time went on. You felt hands everywhere and at the worst times. Caressing your arms and legs, tracing your stomach and back. Eventually it got to the point where you could feel a hand slipping into your pants, playing with your clit. Of course, you were scared at first. Something was clearly there, and it reminded you of the letter your grandma left you.

You began shouting at the ghost. Telling it to stop fucking around and leave you alone. However, the ghost didn't really care; you broke his one rule that he had agreed on with your grandma, and even if you didn't know, he was going to punish you. How dare you bring another man into his house and have the audacity to fuck him?

His touching escalated the more you allowed him. Eventually you noticed a mouth and a wet tongue licking your neck, tracing down to your breasts. It seemed strange, considering you were usually clothed when this happened, yet it felt like it was touching your skin directly. The licking felt nothing like what your old friend would do, although in truth the sex with him wasn't all that good and really just a way to get fucked every once in a while.

Before you knew it, multiple hands were all over you, joined by at least three tongues licking you. This made no sense; you wondered if there were multiple ghosts. It became increasingly difficult to even find the logic in this when you were constantly being groped and licked. One tongue had found its permanent place on your sensitive nub, flicking and sucking it with every move you made; one was carelessly sucking on one of your nipples, alternating with one hand that usually played with the other one. The third mouth seemed to like making out with you, its tongue constantly shoved in your mouth, wrestling yours.

Despite feeling all these ministrations as if they were real, when you looked at your reflection, there was nothing there. Your mouth was gaping, but nothing was in it; your panties were soaked beyond belief most of the time, yet nothing seemed to be there. But truly, the worst part about it all was that it wouldn't let you finish. Whenever you were just about to cum, the mouth disappeared before continuing its torture. It took about two days before you couldn't take it anymore, pleading with the ghost to let you cum. It didn't listen, though it did use more hands to restrict you when you went to touch yourself before shoving something inside of you.

It wasn't much of a sensation, and you felt it curl, so you naturally assumed it was the finger of another hand. “Please,” you began whimpering every other minute, your tone getting more needy with every ruined orgasm that he put you through as minutes began to feel like hours.

“I'll do anything,” you finally managed to choke out through tears as he played with your sodden pussy for what you could only register as an eternity again, bent over the kitchen counter, legs held apart, wrists gripped tightly by the ghost. For a moment, there was nothing but stillness; all the mouths stopped what they were doing, and most of the hands disappeared too, except the ones keeping you in place.

“Anything?” A shiver ran down your spine as you heard the noise that you assumed to be the ghost's voice. It sounded distant and more like the wind howling than a human voice, yet you knew immediately who it was. You nodded, the tears running down your face falling onto the kitchen counter, your twitching cunt trying to feel any sort of stimulation now that the mouths and hands were gone.

“Yes, anything.” The words came out before you could even attempt to stop them, accompanied by a howling sound, which made you wonder whether it was meant to be a laugh or not.

Another few moments passed before a loud noise forced itself out of your mouth at the sensation of something stretching you open. It was long and thick, covered in strange bumps, providing nothing but the most torturous pleasure as it thrust into your hungry cunt at a punishing pace.

Despite your mind still questioning whether this was okay and logical, your body was writhing against the kitchen counter, hands still held still by him, your legs forced apart as he fucked you from behind. No matter how much you attempted to stop it from happening, desperate, high-pitched mewling sounds escaped your lips at a rapid rate as you felt another orgasm approach, hoping this would be the one to finally let you cum after two days of torture.

“What a willing little slut,” the ghost taunted with his howling voice, making him sound distant yet all around you at once. The insults made you mewl louder; something about being used like this by a ghost made your pussy clench harder.

In a small moment of defiance, you glanced back at what might be behind you, but just as expected, there was nothing. Despite your pussy being stretched to an almost painful level, gaping around air, no figure was there to account for it.

Just as your orgasm threatened to spill over, something was shoved into your mouth, making your jaw hurt, before it found its way down your throat, drowning out your mewls and desperate groans.

“Be quiet, whore. I'm not done with you yet.” With those words, your eyes fluttered closed as you let this torture continue for another minute or two, pussy and throat both stuffed full with invisible cocks, bigger than any human's you've ever had. The thought alone was enough to trigger your orgasm, finally sending you over that sweet edge with a loud groan that only came out as a hum. Your body went limp from the impact, and you saw stars in front of your eyes, the ghost holding you up by your wrists as if it were nothing.

Without a word or even a moment to spare, he kept slamming into you, the bumps rubbing against your insides, making you feel like you were stuck in a never-ending orgasm for a moment before it did finally subside, though you could feel the cocks twitch, their movements becoming more erratic and aggressive. You tried to say something, but your throat was simply too stuffed to make any worthwhile noise.

Suddenly, you felt a hot sensation in both of your holes, almost making you gag and cry in pain, as the sheer amount of ectoplasmic seed forced its way into your womb and down your throat, spilling back into your mouth, even running down your chin. Before you could fully register what happened, you were dropped, the ghost probably leaving you to deal with the aftermath. As you lay there, the sheer amount of cum almost formed a small puddle on the ground, your fucked-out pussy leaking more as you desperately tried to swallow the remnants in your mouth.

[peachpitfics]

Loml

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: You have been married six months, and it is fresh hell trying to conceive an heir with somebody you are repulsed by. Luckily, your old friend is willing to help you get through it while your husband is out of town.

Length: 2.6k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Infidelity/adultery, themes allude to SA with unwanted husband (not described or mentioned), cunnilingus, face sitting, oral sex (male & female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex for the sake of breeding, breeding kink?, orgasm.

a/n: This is part ii of Wildest Dreams, requested by anon here! This turned out a little more angsty than I had planned!

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Six months ago, your father inflicted the cruelest curse upon you when he married you off to his vilest friend, Lord Howard. Six months of marriage, six months of scheduled contact, attempting to make an heir. Agreeing to once per month, having to allow Lord Howard access to your body in order to do so, six attempts were far too many already.

As soon as Lord Howard informed you of his business travel plans, you began thinking about Benedict Bridgerton. Somebody you thought about relentlessly, however, in this case, you were hoping to hold him to a promise he had made you earlier in the year.

Immediately penning a letter addressed to him at Bridgerton House, with details regarding location, date and time. The staff had been quite loyal to you since moving into the grand house. Most of your time was spent in the country, avoiding your new husband – the service staff there thought you were a gift from heaven, far too good for the old codger, as they called him. They looked after you, and you ensured the same for them. They would keep your secret.

Benedict arrived by carriage a week later, the afternoon after your husband’s departure, having written to accept your invitation, but only to discuss what had been promised in the past. Benedict looked the same, but cleaner, his hair shorter. He looked grown up. He stepped from the carriage, baring in easeful smile, just for you.

“Lady Howard” He bowed properly, it felt like a jive.

You did not speak a word, jumping forward and into his arms, throwing yours around his neck. It was the first time you’d felt safe in months. Benedict’s eyes flicked between the housekeeper, the footman and you, desperately trying to understand if this was okay.

“They are my friends; they would never harm me. I know it is strange, but they really do help me keep my secrets” You tried to reassure Benedict, whispering in his ear.

“It is not strange, it is very country, I suppose,” His arms tightened around your back, lifting you off the ground slightly, “I have missed you. I did write” Benedict squeezed.

“I know,” You let him go, holding out a hand to walk him into the house, “I have your letters hidden in my dressing room. I do apologise for not replying” Ben took your hand and followed you into the house, leaving his luggage on the carriage for the staff to care for.

Benedict was amazed by the house, its long concrete walls and vaulted ceilings. It felt similar to a castle, empty and cold. After your evening meal, you took Benedict for a walk around the gardens. Two swings hung from the branch of a very old tree nearby, one of your favourite places to hide from Lord Howard.

“Where has he gone to?” Benedict asked, lighting a cigarette and passing it to you.

“France… I think. I was not paying very much attention when he was speaking. I was too focused on getting you here. I have been waiting for months, building rapport with the staff, friendships even. I just needed him to leave, so we could do this right” You stuttered, watching your feet dangle as you swung back and forth.

Benedict paused, taking the cigarette back and drawing in, “It has not been going well then?” The question was serious, but even he snorted when he got the words out.

“We have been intimate too many times already. I thought this was supposed to be easy. Women get pregnant all the time” You sighed.

“Yes, when they do not mean to of course. Also, you must account for your husbands age” Benedicts eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Please, do not call him that” You interrupted.

Benedict exhaled heavily, “That is who he is, y/n. He is your husband. If we do this, we commit infidelity. There are consequences for such acts, are you prepared to accept those consequences?” Benedict asked. You had not ever seen him quite this serious. It scared you, seeing what six months will change in a person.

“I am!” You said adamantly, one stiff nod of assurance. There was no way you could take any more of this. One child, that was all you needed, to make it all stop.

You reached over to Benedict’s swing, his sweet face resting on the rope, thumb caressing his cheek, “Will you be able to live with this? Your child, raised as another mans? Never being their father, or having a role in their lives?” You asked, hoping it was not too cold a question. Benedict pulled slightly away from your touch.

“That is what I wanted to speak to you about…” Benedict whispered, “I know that Lord Howard is your husband and that I am too late, y/n. I will give you a child, if I can. I will give you as many as you damn well want. But I must know that after Lord Howard has passed, you will come to me” Benedicts eyes were soft and glassy in the moonlight, the burning ember of the cigarette fading in his laxed hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head and closed your eyes. How could you make such a promise?

“I do not care if the old bastard lives another 20 years, y/n, I will wait. I will wait in torment for you. Even if I must spend the next decade in hell, learning to bend time, I will. And if we are only allowed a short time together, then so be it because whether it be 5 minutes or 50 years, it will still never be enough time. There is an inexhaustible amount of love for you in my heart. I did not recognize it before, I was selfish and hopeless. The two of you will come home to me, and we will be deliriously happy” Benedict dreamed aloud, starry eyed.

You sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other with tragic longing deep set in your eyes.

Benedict’s eyes cleared, his smile faded, “I know you love me” He breathed boldly.

You jaw clenched shut, your eyes closed over slowly, a single tear running down the far side of your face so Benedict could not see.

“I love you,” He howled toward the moon, “I loved you the moment I saw you. I have adored your passion and cherished your friendship, while cowering in the frozen solitude of my own mind. I have dreamt of you and our life together every day since your marriage date, stirring in agony, every night. Every time I close my eyes, the profound pit of blackness inside consumes me – until I wake again, then my existence is marred by its lack of yours. Your name haunts my tongue, its ineffable song too wistful a sound on my lips. I am left stumbling through life, scattered across the universe, searching for you” His once invincible foolhardiness nowhere to be seen. The peaceful eloquence of his voice so familiar to you, always a poet.

Standing from your swing, hand outstretched to Benedict, you tried to allow your eyes to do the speaking. His sad, desperate eyes, staring up at you in solemn hope, his hand bound for yours. You escorted him inside in silence, the air surrounding dense with disquiet. Leading Benedict into your bedroom, separate from the Master bedroom, you closed the door behind him.

Locking eyes in malicious yearning, your bodies came together, navels pressed, hands roaming across every inch of your torso. Benedict grasped the back of your neck, enchanted look in his eyes as he littered kisses along your jawline and down your throat. You breathed heavily under his lips, breasts heaving against his chest. Reaching around for the bows on your dress, undoing them as quickly as you could, desperate to shed your clothes for him, Benedict palmed at your breasts through your dress. He halted his movements when he noticed your hurry and began stripping himself down also.

“I have been thinking, of one thing in particular, all these months” Benedict panted, leading you over to your bed. You nodded, waiting for him to elaborate. Benedict laid, his back to the bed, your hands in his, guiding you over top of him. You hovered over his nude hips, he smiled cheekily, waving you up higher. You frowned down at him, completely confused by what he was asking. He tugged you upward, your knees resting either side of his head.

“You will have to trust me” He gave a soft, dreamy smile as you gave him a befuddled one back, bare behind resting on his chest. You pursed your lips, Benedicts hands digging into your hips pulling you down onto his face. His breath hot against your skin, his wet tongue sinking betwixt your folds, starting gently at your clit. You jerked in animated surprise, finding yourself lowering back down instinctively. Benedict’s hands kneaded your behind, rolling your hips down onto his tongue. You had done your darndest to replicate the way Benedict made you feel, to no avail, at a complete loss for how you would miss his devastating body.

Your fingers tangled into his hand, drinking in every tangible flick of his tongue against your clit. His lips pressed, sucked and kissed at you, pulling you further into his indulgent dreamland. Benedict’s big, blue eyes staring up at you, grinding down on his face, his premeditated attack on you began, wrapping his flexed arms around your thighs and holding you firmly in place. Blinding pleasure laved over you, your eyes uncontrollably clamping shut so hard you swore you saw every colour imaginable. Screaming Benedict’s name, his amused tongue swirling you to completion, you panted animalistically, unable to move.

“That was incredible. I do not believe I could have prepared myself for how much better that was going to be outside my dreams” Ben moaned into your pussy, lapping at your juices, drinking you in. You rested a moment, watching Benedicts crowning smile, his asinine eyes filled with everything else he wanted to do with you.

Freeing Benedict from beneath you he shuffled up the bed, resting upright against the grand wooden bedhead, his legs out in front of him.

“Shall we try?” Benedict asked delicately.

“Please” You whimpered, crawling to him, taking his cock in your hand.

You laid between his legs a moment, holding him in your hands, moving gently. Leaning forward to kiss his tip, your tongue flicked over his pink flesh, Benedict could not help but moan. Taking him into your mouth, you sunk down in long hot strides, pressing his cock to the back of your throat. His fingers wrapped into your hair, pulling you onto him further. Benedict relished your working on him, libidinous smile engraved on his face, pure bliss.

“I do not think that is how one makes a baby” Benedict chuffed, pulling you up quickly, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. Face to face, you grinned into his splendidly hot kisses, his hand slipping between the two of you to situate himself. You felt his tip nudging against your entrance, hard and waiting, slipping inside of you. You gasped loudly, burying your face into his neck as a biological urge forced you to bounce.

Benedict growled lowly into your ear as you moved into a groove together, slow and tedious in perpetual delight. Benedict placed his hand in the smallest of gaps between you, his thumb adjacent to your clitoris; every movement, sinking to his hilt, he brushed against you softly. You were not aware that it could happen more than once, your heart quickened aggressively, Benedict tongue descending into your mouth as you whimpered louder and louder. Nails embedded into Ben’s shoulders, blood nearly drawn, your eyes holding his gaze, sheer hunger lived in his eyes. Hunger for you. Your pussy began quivering around him, aching, throbbing, trying desperately to take in more of him. Excruciating pleasure erupted from you, grasping his cock hard from within, your legs shook as your wetness spread between the two of you. Benedict did not stop this time, taking his hands to your hips as you ceased moving, manipulating your movements, grunting into your neck. Every time he led you to release, he seemed to get harder, more attracted to you. You did your best to get deep breaths in, to bring yourself back to reality, his cock still pounding into you steadily made it difficult. His teeth edge to edge in painstaking need, his forceful hands and powerful thrust told you he was close.

“Please,” Your voice rang out, his eyes needy and frenzied, “Please, Benedict, put that baby in me!” You continued to beg, his ragged panting and dreary eye contact wavering as you took control of your body again, bouncing heartily onto his cock. Every muscle in his body seemed to tighten at the same time, his hands aggressively pressing you down, as he groaned and grunted fiercely. You squeezed him inside, gently rolling your hips forward, feeling his cock pulsate inside you.

Benedict’s head rested against the bed head, his breath uneven and heart throbbing in his chest. Attempting to get off him, to allow him room to breathe, Benedict stopped you. He blinked himself back to this plane of existence.

“No, it helps if we stay like this” He explained through puffs.

“Really?” You frowned, never having thought about it.

“Yes,” He nodded frantically, “If we stay like this, everything will stay inside” He explained. You hummed in agreement, thinking perhaps that was what you had been doing wrong. Whatever it was that you were doing wrong, you were glad for it. If this made you an adulterer, a traitor, a betrayer, you did not care. Not for this.

Your hands rest on Benedicts chest, fingers splayed in brown chest hair, your eyes lingering over his collar bones and shoulders.

“What are you doing?” He asked, feeling rather observed.

“Taking you in” You purred, taking mental pictures in case you never saw him again. Benedicts hand rose to your face, his thumb rolling over your bottom lip, sliding down your neck to lure you into his most romantic kiss yet. Moments later, Benedict allowed you to slide off him, laying you with your legs up parallel to the headboard. You wondered how many more times you would get to feel like this.

“Shall I leave in the morning?” Benedict asked, a tremble in his voice.

“Absolutely not!” You exclaimed, Benedict lying next to you, a huge grin on his face.

“I joke, my Lady” Benedict laughed as you shoved him gently.

“You will be staying the entire week. I will hold you prisoner if I must” You chortled.

“Excellent, better treatment than home I expect. I will take it” Benedict stretched, every strained muscle flexing in exhilarating sex appeal. “We need every opportunity if we’re to make this baby” He smiled, thrilled at the chance to say such things, hoping one day his babies would come home to him.

“That is not the only reason I want you to stay” You said mellifluously, your soft, thoughtful eyes inspecting his reactions. Benedict frowned placidly, unsuspecting of your joyful surrender.

“You are the love of my life, Benedict Bridgerton,” Tears welled grievously, guileless love calm in your smile, “We will be together. I will be your wife, and I will bring our children home to you”.

Benedict leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, unhurried and glorious. Tears streamed down his face, amazed and implicit, his sureness of his love for you unwavering.

“How ever long it takes, whatever I must do, we will be together” Benedict smile was humble, but fearless.

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Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr // @marvelouslyme96 // @moreover-clover // @dollarstore-lydia-deetz // @newavenger // @lifealot // @rosie-posie08 // @saintmagx //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me, please let me know!

[nekonaps0]

Girly pop your writing is immaculate. Don't stress, cause you got that dawg in you. :D

Also can I be known as Idia anon? Cause I ask for him the majority of the time. :>

So my request-

Actually I didn't check if you were accepting any...

I got too overjoyed, sorry :(

So incase you are taking requests--

House wardens dealing with a reader who's from like...the 1900s, so she's really bad with anything technology related.

Um anyway have a good day!!

You from the 1900s !?!?

✦characters: House warden

✦ gn!reader

Thank you so much! I’m trying my best!^^

And yes the requests are open!

And OMFG I LOVED WRITING THIS! I had so much fun writing it!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle has no patience for breaking rules… unless it’s you.

He watches you poke suspiciously at a tablet, muttering something about how

“this strange mirror-box must be possessed.”

You nearly scream when the screen flickers.

“It’s not a cursed object!” he snaps. “It’s just a MagiTab! Everyone uses them nowadays!”

But when he sees the genuine confusion on your face, he exhales and sits beside you.

“It’s okay. I’ll teach you. Just don’t touch any random buttons. And absolutely don’t try to boil it in a kettle again.”

He ends up patiently writing out a guide for you in fountain pen ink because “it feels more familiar to you.” You keep it folded in your coat pocket like a love letter.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona groans when you stare at the washing machine like it’s going to explode.

“Herbivore, it's not gonna bite you.” You shoot him a dry look.

“We didn’t even have electricity in half the town I grew up in. This thing looks like a metal beast.”

He’s lazy, sure, but he ends up tossing his book aside and swaggering over.

“You put the clothes in, close the lid, hit the button. Boom. Magic. Now stop actin’ like it’s a damn ritual.”

You squint at the buttons. “Which one’s the ‘start’?”

“��You know what, move. I’ll do it. You’re gonna break something.”

But secretly, he likes it. It makes him smirk seeing how wide-eyed you get at the simplest things—like it’s all new magic. He tells Ruggie to record your first time using a microwave “just for the laughs.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is delighted.

You’re from the 1900s? You have no idea how phones, networks, or cameras work? Oh, what a dream client.

“I see… so, if I offered you a little contract that would instantly teach you how to operate all current-day magical tech…”

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

Azul pushes his glasses up. “No catch! Only a… minor magical pledge of servitude—er, assistance! For educational purposes only.”

But you’re stubborn. You refuse. So, instead, he ends up painstakingly drawing diagrams and holding tech history lectures just for you. Floyd laughs at him for it.

“You’re such a nerd for them, Shrimpy’s like a time traveler and you’re still blushing!”

Azul glares, but doesn’t deny it.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim thinks you’re amazing. You’re like a walking, talking history book! He once finds you trying to light a candle with flint and steel because “electricity is unreliable.” You flinch when the lights flicker.

“WHOA! You’re like… ancient…cool!” he gasps, stars in his eyes.

He insists on giving you the tour of the century he teaches you how to use smartphones by letting you decorate his with beads and charms. He even buys you a flip phone

“because it’s got buttons! You like buttons, right?!”

When you confuse the intercom with a telephone, he goes along with it and starts calling you over it like it’s a telegram line.

You both get in trouble for yelling into the hallway speaker system. He just laughs it off and offers to help you write your first email like it’s a royal decree.

Vil Schoenheit

You nearly faint the first time you see yourself in a selfie camera. You swat the phone out of your hand and scream.

Vil just blinks. “Dear, that’s not black magic. That’s your reflection. Honestly, you look rather radiant—”

He catches the phone before it hits the floor and sighs dramatically.

“You’re going to give me gray hairs.”

At first, he finds it exasperating until he realizes how refreshingly natural you are. No filters, no tech addiction, no social media dependence.

He starts calling you his “timeless darling,” and he adores how you prefer letters to texts. Vil even plan a classic-style photoshoot: vintage clothes, candlelight. It goes viral.

He won’t admit it, but he’s charmed by your innocence.

Idia Shroud

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

You don’t know what a smartphone is? You don’t have a favorite game? You’ve never even seen an anime?!

Idia short-circuits.

At first, he’s horrified. You stare at his glowing screens like they’re cursed runes. You once asked Ortho if he was a ghost.

“You’re like… a time traveler NPC,” he mutters, nearly spiraling. “No firmware update… no RAM… Y-you don’t even know what a meme is!”

But then…

He starts showing you all his favorite things. One by one. Old-school games, slow-burn anime, classic consoles. He sets up a CRT monitor just so it’s “authentic” to your time. You think the pixel art is “darling.”

It becomes your thing: old meets new. You even help him write a game based on “your era.”

You don’t get half the references, but you love his excited rants.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus… doesn’t think you’re strange at all.

You shyly explain your fear of cell phones, how the “mirror network” feels eerie, how magic-infused technology makes your skin crawl.

He just smiles, serene.

“I can’t agree more, you don’t have to worry about those dear” he says gently.

When you accidentally burn toast in the toaster and start panicking like you’ve summoned a fire demon, Malleus calmly puts it out.

“It’s only toast.”

He takes your hand and teaches you to send letters with magic, introduces you to enchanted paper that writes itself, and listens truly listens when you talk about your old world.

He even arranges a ballroom evening for you, with string quartets and vintage dancing. No phones. No electricity. Just you, stars, and a smile that makes you feel right at home.

..............................................................................................................................

[kurokawaia]

❛ SIT ON MY FACE ❜

Himejima Gyomei X Fem!Wife!Reader

WC; 800+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: oral -> female receiving, female reader, she/her, female bodily terms used, praise, brief thoughts on gyomei seeing u preggy but reader is not preggy

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) is it alright if i can get some nsfw w him? mainly because i see him as that one audio "sit on my face, put your whole body weight on me" - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

"Sit on my face," Gyomei says against the fabric of your underwear.

"You won't be able to breathe," you reply shyly avoiding his gaze, but he doesn't care, he loves your weight pressing up against his face.

Gyomei can only think of how it would feel to have you, his pretty wife full of his seed, all plump and pregnant with his child and sitting on his face. 

"Come on, please," he hums, placing kisses over your lower abdomen as you sit on his upper chest, your arousel soaking his bare skin.

You nibbled your lip, you were truly worried that you would suffocate him. This wasn't the first time you have sat on Gyomei's face but it still worries you that he won't be able to breathe. Gyomei doesn't care, so what if he can not breathe? He'll die a lovely death if it's your weight and cunt soaking him.

"Alright," you said while lifting your hips over his face before slipping your panties off, hovering your dripping cunt over his mouth and you looked down seeing his eyebrows furrow in annoyance before a tight grip held your thighs and pushed your weight onto his face. 

A gasp leaves your lips, not only due to the fast action of Gyomei but the instant hot sensation of his tongue and nose bumping against your puffy clit, causing you to gasp. You grip his black hair, your fingers tightening onto the strange and he groans into your cunt causing vibrations to shudder through your body.

His tongue drags up from your soaked hole to your clit and moans slip from your lips. You are desperate to keep quiet, but you know that Gyomei doesn't like it when you hide your voice. 

"So pretty," Gyomei mumbles as his tongue plays with your clit making your thighs squish agasint his head, arousing a moan from him. you grind yourself down on him as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your high, the could in your tummy growing the more Gyomei pleasures you.

"That's it," he murmurs agasint your slick cunt. "So good for me."

"Hah~ Gyo-Gyo," you chant his name through broken syllables as his movements become faster and his fingers dig into your plush thighs. Thighs clench around his head through his restricting hold and a moan reverberates into your clit causing you to grind down into his face. Chants of his name spilled from your mouth, and he loved every second of it.

As your orgasm approached, two fingers pressed through your folds and into your gummy walls, instantly finding their spot. With his fingers curved as he quickly inserted them, he rubbed them on the tender spot inside your walls causing more maons to slip from your mouth.

God, Gyomei loves to hear you fall apart with his mouth.

You chant his name again through broken letters, just wanting to think straight but you couldn't, his movements becoming faster, more needy and the single hold he had on your thigh tightened. The coil in your stomach tightened and your fingers secured around his locks, preventing him from moving but causing him to moan more into your folds.

"'m gonna come," I moan. "Gyo, ngh~"

As the moans spilled from his lips and your lips, the only thing it did was tip you over the edge and the moment he pressed his tongue hard against my clit, was once a soft scream left your mouth. The coil in your stomach released, drenching his face entirely.

Gyomei lifted you off of his face gently spinning the positions around so that you lay comfortably on your back and he towered over you, a concerned expression on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, making sure that the orgasm wasn't too overwhelming for you.

"I am, Gyo," you sigh before your lips pout seeing how much your cum is stained and spread on his face. "Lemme clean you up!"

"You don't have to-"

"No, Gyo. I wanna take care of you," you replied a smile on your lips and he did the same, a smile plastered on his lips.

"Alright."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[seaborgium-dazies]

Are requests open? I can’t tell cause it says love letter, so if not you can ignore this! Buttttt if they are…

May I have Kirishima, Iida, Todoroki and Midoriya (you can add all them if you want I just like those 4 the best lol) with a reader who was gone for a bit, maybe they were in another country due to family drama or someone died so they’ve been gone for a couple months, and reader surprises them one day without telling them they’re back???

I love you’re writing by the way, so beautiful

Waiting here for you to come back around

Aweeee thank you so much!!! I hope you enjoy this anon! <3 Seeing mha boys after being apart for a while because of family stuff cw: mutual pining; fluff; no established relationship but something better (mutual crushes ayeee) 🌊: deku, iida, kirishima, shoto

Deku:

Deku was deep in thought, analyzing a quirk he saw earlier when he heard a familiar knocking pattern. As soon as he recognized it he bolted to the door. You would've expected the door to be ripped out of it's hinges with the force deku put into his swing.

"Y/N!"

Deku was beaming and upon seeing you standing in front of his door with a sheepish grin he embraced you in an enthusiastic hug.

"Izuku!"

You couldn't help but laugh at the adorable display of just how much he had missed you. That hug of his nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. He seemed to realize the gravity of his actions only after he pulled away.

He scratched his neck as he bashfully explained.

"Sorry ... I've just been a little worried about you, come right in".

So you took him up on his invitation, spending the rest of the evening talking about any and everything. Satiating Izukus curiosity and getting anything heavy off of your chest.

Mid sentence you noticed a tall stack of papers on his desk and you couldn't help but give izuku a questioning look.

"Ah, yes I almost forgot! These are for you; the notes from the classes you missed! I even color coded it after your system to make it easier to catch up-"

In that moment you really had no idea what you had done to deserve such a beautiful and kind soul. Thinking about you even when you were so far away. And going as far as inconveniencing himself every day while not knowing when you would come back. It brought tears to your eyes and a strange warmth to your chest.

Iida:

Iida sighed in frustration as another one of his text messages went through. No answer from you. How irresponsible can one even be?! He massaged his temples before writing out another stern text.

He was so fired up that he was already hearing things. Iida rolled his eyes at himself for imagining the characteristic ping of your phone when it receives a text message. And just as he was about to put his phone down to collect himself he heard another one... Did that come from the hallway?

He swiftly opened the door to his dorm to reveal you standing there with your hand already in a knocking motion. Instead of going through with the knock you reverted to small jazz hands and a meek

"Surprise?"

Iida called out your name and immediately embraced you in a bear hug. But he pulled away after a couple of moments to give you a piece of his mind.

"What are you doing here y/n? And why haven't you been responding to my messages? What were you thinking?! It's extremely reckless and unsafe to do such things!-"

And even though iida went on a detailed lecture about not keeping him in the loop you could see in the pink of his cheeks and the way his hands were gesturing more wildly than usual, that he really just wanted to reprimand you because he missed you so much.

But you knew just how to make it up to him. Mid sentence you pulled one of iidas favorite snacks out of your backpack, this time in a limited edition flavor which was unavailable in japan. That got him to abandon his scolding to marvel at the package you were holding out to him.

He grabbed you by the wrist as he dragged you into his room for you to try the new candy together. You knew that iida would let go of any petty words now since your temporary absence had one upside.

And even though iida blamed his forgiveness on the joy about his favorite candy of all time, in reality he couldn't handle the fact that even when you were in such a difficult situation you remembered what his favorite candy was and even went out of your way just to make him a little happier. His rosy cheeks betrayed him though.

You still weren't in the clear after that because iida demanded that you talk about the situation with him for your own good; so your mental health and school performance won't suffer.

Todoroki:

"It's open"

Shoto's neutral voice made you grin, but opening his dorm door while holding something heavy was kind of a challenge. So mid struggle the door was opened by shoto himself, revealing you with a giant bag of fruit in your arms.

"Y/n?" Shoto's voice betrayed him, the positive surprise apparent. But Shoto took you down a couple pegs as he observed

"You look rough".

Without waiting for an answer he took the heavy bag out of your arms and before you could tell him that they were for him he asked you

"How was travel? When did you get back?"

"Hello to you too Shoto"

You walked into his dorm room before continuing

"Everything was fine, the whole experience was just rather exhausting"

You had been a little anxious because shoto hadn't been messaging you that much while you were away although you knew that it just wasn't his style to text lots. The truth was that he wanted to give you space because he was sure that if you wanted to talk about it you would reach out.

He was more than glad that you were here now and although he enjoyed the souvenir you brought him, it didn't measure up to the joy he felt to see you again. He practically had to restrain himself because his hands were drifting towards yours all the time. So even if he didn't explicitly tell you how much he missed you, it was clear as day.

Kirishima:

Kirishima was biting the inside of his cheek while staring at the message he last sent you. It was left on delivered and he couldn't help but be worried sick. The whole situation you were in worried him to hell and back.

Leaving in a hurry seemed terrible enough but bad cell service and cryptic sad messages? He felt as if he was trapped in the ninth circle of overthinking hell. Did you eat enough? Drink enough? Did you family give you a hard time?

Speaking- or rather thinking- of the devil he heard you calling out his name from outside of his dorm room.

Kirishima opened his door in record time and upon seeing you he opened his arms which such élan it made you wince. You braced yourself for impact but were met with the most gentle bear hug imaginable instead.

As if Kirishima had sensed exactly what you needed you melted into his warm embrace like butter on top of pancakes. He released you out of his grip after what felt like ages, both of you grinning from ear to ear.

He invited you in and after catching up you spotted a little figurine on his desk that you never saw before.

"Oooh who got you this?"

You took the small figurine into your hands. It was a baby chick with a cute pink ribbon and a blue flower on its head - the craftsmanship was insane and it must've been expensive. The thought of some girl gifting this to him made jealousy well up in your chest. But before you could get the wrong ideas he explained,

"Uhm.. It's actually for you... I saw it and it reminded me of you so I just thought I'd get it in case you were feeling bummed after returning."

"Awww wait, really?"

And as Kirishima saw a hot pink blush spreading from your shoulders to the tips of your ears he thanked the heavens that you safely returned to him.

Buy me a coffee? <3

©️ seaborgium-dazies 2025

leave some love! Reblogs and comments are dearly appreciated<3

[rafesbabygirlx]

BREAK FROM WORK

𝙲𝙴𝙾!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚜𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✧ Summary: Rafe misses his appointment for the first time and reader takes it upon herself to make a visit to him instead.

✧ Warnings: SMUT (riding)

✧ P2 to Deep Tissue Deep Desire

✧ Prompted here (by my sunshine anon 💛)

✧ 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

It was 7:20 on Thursday. Rafe hadn’t been late to a single appointment since your first encounter. You didn’t want to think anything of it, but it was strange. He was always your last appointment of the day so you decided to do something you’ve never done before. You took his name off your schedule, making this a complimentary session and packed up come oil and candles.

You made your way through uptown before arriving at the large building. Cameron Development lit up the top of it in bright bold letters. The parking lot was practically empty, most employees seemed long gone by now. This made your visit much more special and a little more comfortable.

You made your way through the lobby to the elevator. You take it up to the top floor. It’s a lucky guess but from what you’ve seen you didn’t think his office would be anywhere but. When you step out, bag of goodies on your shoulder, you see someone you don’t recognize sitting at a desk with his head in his hands.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Mr. Cameron.”

“Who are you? You can’t be here.”

“I’m his masseuse, he missed his standing appointment. I was just checking that he was ok.”

“Ohhhh right.” The man gives you a slight smirk, that makes you uncomfortable wondering if he really knew how your appointments went. “He had a rough day, must’ve slipped his mind. He’s in his office, if you couldn’t already hear.”

He points in the direction and you take it as a welcome to make your way over. You enter the room to see Rafe facing the window, phone glued to his ear and yelling at someone on the other end. You just stand in the doorway not knowing what else to do.

He turns slamming his hand in the desk saying something about real estate, you don’t understand. His head rises and his eyes fall on you. He stops mid sentence on his call. “I gotta go. But you better fix this shit or so help me god.” He hangs up before an answer could be given.

“What are you doing here.” He smiles faintly at the sight of you. Frustration seeming to melt away already.

“You missed our appointment, just wanted to check in.” You make your way closer to his desk, dropping the bag in front of him.

“Is that so?” He makes his way around the desk and over to you, slipping his hands around your waist.

“Mm-hm, I figured you’d be busy. You’d never miss one of our sessions.”

“You’re right and I’m sorry doll. I should’ve called.”

“No need to apologize, I’m here now. On the house.”

Rafe smiles and walks over to the door. “Damian, shut the lights off and head home. We’re done tonight.”

You can see him nod over the shoulder and do exactly as he’s told. You recognize who that is now. His assistant, the one who made the first appointment for Rafe. He starts to close the blinds to the windows and lock the doors. You carefully stack papers and move them to the side and begin lighting candles.

“Shirt off and sit.”

Rafe complies unbuttoning his dress shirt and sitting in his desk chair before you. You squeeze some oil onto the palm of your hands rubbing them together to warm it up. Stepping behind him and placing them onto his shoulders. He lets out a relieved sigh and melts into your touch.

You continue to knead out any knot that has formed in his upper back. Tense from the day, he’s a man that carries his stress a little too well. You get in front of him, your movements have a purpose. You rub up and down his neck, as you slowly straddle his lap.

Your short skirt yanks up higher as you adjust and his hands find your thighs immediately. Slowly inching up, until an eyebrow is raised in the realization you aren’t wearing any panties. You continue to knead your thumb just above his collarbone, when you notice he starts to get hard.

Your hands stray away from shoulders and make their way to his belt. Unbuckling it agonizingly slow. His eyes flutter close, wanting to rip your hands away and do it himself but his fingers just rip into the arms of his chair trying to be patient.

“God you’re gonna kill me.”

“Just relax. It’s my job to make sure you do.”

You finally free him. Stroking his length before lifting up and sinking onto it. Your heads throw back simultaneously. You lift again before dropping down, gaining a steady rhythm. He reaches up pulling your shirt over your head, revealing a pink lace bra.

“This your regular work attire?”

“Just on Thursdays” you giggle softly.

He grunts as you speeds up. He wants to give you all control but he can’t help himself. He picks you up before spinning the chair to face the window. The illuminated room leaving the perfect reflection on the glass. He pulls you back into his lap, sliding right back into you.

He holds your legs up by the bend of your knee and plants his feet firmly on the ground as he begins to thrust up into you. “Watch the way I fuck you. Look at how my cock goes in n out. You were fucking made for me.”

Your eyes are locked on where you connect. Jaw slack and your breath is caught in your throat. You’re so in awe and so trained not to make a noise they just don’t come out anymore. Rafe drives into you like a mad man.

“Cl-close.”

“Good baby, soak my lap.” He watches you in the mirrors as your eyes roll back. “Fuck, look at you”

You go limp in his arms, feeling your body convulse in tight grip. Rafe fucks you through your high chasing his own. You feel him twitch and pause his movements as he spills deep inside you. He drops your legs and holds you close by your waist, pressing soft kisses on your exposed back.

You look over your shoulder and smile, “it’s good to know where I can find you, when you decide to no show your appointment.”

He buries his face in your shoulder and murmurs into your skin, “I swear I didn’t mean it. Why the fuck would I purposely want to miss out in this?”

Tags: @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @runawayrafetrain @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @larema121 @sc0519-blog @k4yr14 @chromeheartsbaby @jennieonline @littlelamy @rafesfavegf @cherrywriterrr @rafeysvenicebitch @nemesyaaa

[flutterbabee]

hallo can i request logan w/ pup reader like your deadpool one :3 i rlly liked it and i look forward to more works from u !!

DOG TAGS!

Summary: You and Logan have been having teetering on the edge of a relationship for quite some time now. It isnt until you're gifted something during another one of your 'meetings' that you can finally feel how deep his love for you goes

Includes: Logan calls the reader "Mutt" and "Pup," Reader has dog ears and a tail, Mentions of being "owned" and "claimed," Sniffing kink? Size? Sorta kinda

Who: Logan Howlet x puppy! mutant reader

Notes: hope you enjoy anon, this is my first time writing Logan so beware...I'm also not completely satisfied with this but if I don't post it now I never will (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) hope you enjoy it anon despite how long it took lol

Logan was lounging in the living room, the low hum of the fireplace crackling in the background. His eyes lazily follow your mundane movements across the room. The swish of your tail, how your clothes would fit into your curves whenever you turned, your subtle breathing, and the occasional twitch of your ears. You were unsure, anyone could see that, but you'd never admit it, especially to him. Looking away for a moment and back again, he saw your eyes on him, and he smirked. The night had been quiet, too quiet, and he found himself wanting to break the silence. To finally re-visit something without a name. "Hey," he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the stillness, "You look like you're itchin' for somethin' to do." And deep down, you couldn't agree more.

Logan led the way down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing softly against the walls. His attire was casual, yet rugged: a worn leather jacket, a faded gray T-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, and dark jeans that showed signs of wear. His hair, unkempt as usual, fell messily over his brow, and his sharp eyes flicked to the side as he opened the door to his bedroom. As the door swung wide, a scene unfolded, a room that felt lived-in, a reflection of its inhabitant's no-nonsense demeanor. The bed was unmade, the sheets twisted in a tangle, and a few clothes were scattered across the floor, evidence of a hurried departure from the day. The faint scent of leather and old wood lingered in the air, a blend of masculinity and a space that rarely saw tidying up.

Once inside, Logan motioned to the bed, his voice low but welcoming. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair before making his way to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes briefly meeting yours as he took a seat on the it, singling you to follow suit. He helped you to sit on his lap, the scent of week old cologne wafted off him. You'd try to subtlety sniff around his body, to inhale as much of his scent as possible. The room, though chaotic in some ways, carried a strange sense of comfort, with its dim lighting and soft, worn-out furniture that had clearly been with him for years.

Logan had taken his time undressing you both with deliberate, almost reverent motions. His calloused hands, already familiar with the curves of your body, had slowly peeled away the layers of clothing that separated your bare skin from his hungry touch. He had savored each revealed inch, his dark eyes drinking in every dip and swell as if committing your naked form to memory. With a gentleness that concealed the intensity of his desire, Logan had trailed his fingers along your collarbone, tracing the delicate line of your throat, before allowing the last of your garments to slip away. Only then had he stepped back, his own muscular frame now bared to your appreciative gaze, the air between you heavy with lust and anticipation.

"Hold on, I got something for you." Logan, with his jeans still on, removes something from his pocket. Two thin and flat pieces of steel connected to a chain. They were dog tags, his dog tags, and in bold letters was "Howlett, Logan" written on one and "Wolverine" on the other. He fastens the cool, metal around your neck, the tags glinting against your bare skin. Your ears, perked and alert, flick as the coldness hits your neck. A furry tail sways behind you, its glossy coat catching the light with each movement. "Don't you look pretty like this?" he smirked at you with those familiar canines before wrapping his large forearms around your waist and tilting his head upwards for a kiss. His beard felt a bit scratchy rubbing against your cheek.

The bedroom was stuffy, sweat clung to your bodies, and the soft cushion of the bed did well, enveloping your back and easing the full weight of Logan's body on top of yours. His grunts masking your pitched squeaks and creaking from the bed. You're laid bare, both of your legs bent back, one of your ankles over Logan's shoulder and his hand pushing down on the bend of your other knee.

"—Fuckin' look at you, spoiled Mutt." His words held a certain bite to them, and despite his harsh tone, you were receptive to it. It's not like you had much space to move under Logan, but the beating of your tail against the bed and Logan's thigh could still be heard along with the squeak of the mattress and your pitched moans. Among the sound was the jingle and clink of the two silver dog tags. Their coldness still apparently on your heating skin.

"—Mhmp...!" Your body tenses as you let out trembling moans, and your quivering thighs try so desperately to find some stability around his broad shoulders. The rough texture of his beard against your neck, occasionally brushing his canines over your throat. Letting out broken wails of his name, and even then he doesn't let up. Pumping his cock in and out of your gummy hole.

The sound of Logan's raspy growls greatly contrasted with your babbling. The sheets below you were drenched in a mix of sweat and slick; it was all too much to take, but at the same time, you didn't want it to stop. Unbeknownst to you, you had started to pant, taking turns between lolling out your tongue and tugging at Logan's ear with the points of your teeth. The thump of your tail hitting against Logan's thigh and the amount of times you'd pull at his ear quickened. "Quit whinin', Mutt," Logan grunted after a particularly rough thrust. "Patient, pup," he spoke in a growl as he yanked his ear out of your teeth.

Logan took your mouth in his, his teeth clashing with yours. Opening your mouth, you allow his tongue to envelop yours. The steel of the dog tags finally feeling a bit warm as they sat between you. They were a reminder of who laid on top of you, whose cock you were currently creaming around. Your moans gradually got more airy and whiny; you continued making such shameless noises through the kiss Logan had you in. Shifting his head so he'd get better access to your tongue, he started to focus on it, sucking and licking on it, and you tried your best to keep up, but by this point you were just too far gone. A moaning and droopy mess below him.

Logan's intense gaze locks with yours, his eyes blazing with primal desire as he looms over you, his muscular frame glistening with exertion. "You're just perfect for me, aren't you?" he growls, breaking away from the searing kiss to place a large, calloused hand on your head, gently wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow. His hips never cease their relentless assault, the obscene sound of your slick arousal squelching lewdly with each powerful thrust as he splits you open on his thick, pulsing cock. The dog tags bouncing against your collarbone. You adored the sensation of being so utterly claimed, so completely owned, it sent electric volts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You're just loving this, me fucking you like this?" Logan snarls, his voice a low, guttural rumble. Mute with ecstasy, you can only manage a frantic, jerky nod of affirmation, your body quivering with the sheer intensity of sensation. "You going to cum?" he demands, punctuating the question with a sharp, deep thrust that punched the air out of your lungs. "Whose pussy is it?" Logan barks, his eyes wild and feral as he stares down at you with blatant, unbridled lust. "Whose is it, huh?" he repeats, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Yours—it's yours!" You managed to voice in a pathetic whimper. "That's right, prove it to me," he commands, his hips slamming into yours with vicious, unyielding force. "Prove to me and cum on my cock" Logan barked, his body coiled with tension, eagerly awaiting your ultimate release. Your throat closes around a strangled moan, your vision blurring at the edges as the first searing waves of your climax begin to crash over you like a tidal wave.

As the final spasms of your intense orgasm subside, a profound sense of tranquility settles over you like a soothing balm. "Ghgnn—" "Hmm—mm." You moaned. Logan touches you gently, his hands now tenderly brushing sweat-dampened hair from your face as he gazes down at you with a look of deep satisfaction. "Shh, that's my good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble. The air around you feels charged, yet somehow light and airy, as if the very atmosphere has been infused with the lingering essence of your shared ecstasy. Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, the coolness of the room a refreshing contrast to the residual heat radiating from your skin. In the aftermath, a serene stillness envelops you both, broken only by the soft rustle of sheets and the gentle whisper of Logan's fingers through your hair, a loving caress that speaks volumes about the intimate connection the two of you have made. You reach up to caress the metal around your neck, tracing your fingers against its ingraved lettering.

"Logan, Howlett"

"Wolverine"

[fenya-scribbles]

Thunderstorm

Network: @staynotes

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!Reader

Other Characters: none

Summary: You hate thunderstorms almost as much as Hyunjin loves you.

Genre: angst (with kind of a happy ending), strangers to lovers, exes to lovers

Content warnings: reader is terrified of thunderstorms, reader has severe self-worth issues, break up, heartbreak, inability to accept love

Word Count: 1,639

A/N: I’m so sorry, this is so much angstier than I had planned. Requested by a lovely anon for my 150 Follower Event :3 Hope you like it!!

It was raining. 

No, pouring. And as if that wasn’t enough already, there was thunder roaring in the distance. Your heart dropped, knees feeling suddenly weak, and your mind raced with just about every worst case scenario ever. You had to get out of this storm, you had to leave, you had to be somewhere safe. So you rushed into the next best store, not even looking what it was. The door softly closed behind you, shrouding you in sudden silence, and you froze in place. You were dripping on the floor, a puddle of rainwater forming at your feet. You looked up - it was an art store. It smelled of paper and paint and old wood. It was a comforting place to be while the thunderstorm raged outside, but you didn’t dare move. 

“Hey”, a soft voice forced you out of your stagnation, “are you okay?” You looked up. A man was towering over you, but not in a menacing way. More like he didn’t know how to make himself smaller. You had to do a double take, because he was quite possibly the most gorgeous person you’d ever seen, all cheek bones and plush lips and silky hair. His beautiful eyes filled with genuine concern for this strange, rain-soaked girl that stood frozen in the entrance way. 

“I…uhm…”, you stuttered, hugging yourself to keep from shaking. Another roar of thunder had you flinch involuntarily. “There”, he said, shrugging off his hoodie, “you should get out of those wet clothes, but we can only do so much here.” An adorable crooked smile spread over his face. Stunned by his kindness, you shrugged off your soaked cardigan and let him drape his big, dry, warm hoodie around your shoulders. 

That’s how it started. 

That’s how you met Hyunjin, who asked you for your number and then for a date. Who’d arrived to said date with red roses. Who’d paint you on your second date and begged you to stay at his place on the third. Quickly, you let yourself get lost in him, lost in the way he loved you - but a part of you always knew he was too good for you. As the months went by, you found yourself feeling overwhelmed with his display of affection, unsure of how to accept it, unable to see yourself like he did. 

Because this was you, just you, and you weren’t worth all of this affection, all of this care, all of these gestures and paintings and flowers and letters. Hyunjin told you, he’d never fallen in love like this before. He talked about your future together. He held you through every thunderstorm, draping his hoodie around your shoulders like a ritual, but the more he gave, the less you could take. 

Until you finally broke. 

It was raining again. Thunder and lightning and a mean storm, and you were curled up on your couch, hugging your favourite stuffed animal and watching a well-known movie. Hyunjin sat beside you, eyes more on you than the movie, worry painted all over his handsome face. He’d been noticing it for weeks now, how you pulled away. Allowing him to touch you less and less, not bearing his closeness, not able to hold his gaze. And his heart was already cracked, held together by only the blind hope that this would pass and the bone deep love he had for you. The love you didn’t know how to accept. The love that you were sure you didn’t deserve. 

The thunder came again, and you winced, tightening your grip on the stuffed animal in your arms. “Here, my love”, he said, hushed and careful, as if you were a scared animal he didn’t want to upset. Carefully he shrugged out of his hoodie, like he’d done during every other thunderstorm. Gently he placed it around your shoulders like a blanket, like he’d done a million times before. Violently, you flinched. 

It was too much, right then and there, it was too fucking much. “No”, you said, “take it back.” You moved, turning away from him, slithering out of the hoodie, jumping off the couch. “No!”

He looked at you with doe eyes, visibly terrified by what he knew was about to happen. “You hate thunderstorms”, he whispered, “It’s just a thunderstorm.” “It’s not! It’s you! It’s me. It doesn’t work, it doesn’t…I can’t do it, Hyunjin. I can’t do this! I can’t be with you. I can’t…I can’t…”, you were half yelling and half sobbing, arms still wrapped tightly around the stuffed animal. “It’s just the thunderstorm”, he repeated, like a mantra, like it would calm you down, like it would change your mind. But he knew you were already slipping from his grasp. “You have to leave”, you said, quieter now, voice shaky. Another roar of thunder had you fall to your knees, sobbing, burying your face in your plushie. 

“You have to leave, please. I can’t do it anymore. Please go. Please…” You were begging him, urging him to just leave you be, oblivious to the searing, burning, earth-shattering pain that spread all throughout his body. “Baby please”, he said, slipping down from the couch to kneel before you, “please don’t do this, please. It’s the storm, you hate thunderstorms, please. I love you. I love you so much.” He was reaching for you, but didn’t dare to touch, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Hyune”, you whispered. “I can’t do this anymore, please just leave. Please go.” 

And even though it shattered his soul, he did. 

The weeks that followed were a nightmare. You walked around on autopilot, functional but not quite alive. He sent you texts every day until you found the strength to block him. The weeks turned to months and you slowly found ways to almost feel like yourself again - almost. But even with all your efforts, you could never escape him. He was everywhere. A Versace ad here, a magazine cover there. Glaring at you from a concert poster. Singing to you through the grocery store speakers. He haunted you every day, reminding you of what you’d pushed away, what you’d given up. All because he had loved you too hard. 

You made it through a total of 6 thunderstorms without him, each one tearing you apart worse than the last. You found yourself missing his hoodie around your shoulders, but even more so, you found yourself missing him and the love he’d given you on his own accord. Every time it stormed, you asked yourself why you’d done it. Every time it rained you wondered where he was. Every time the lightning had you shiver you begged the universe to fix it. Fix you. Make you whole, make you right, so you could deserve him. So you could accept his unconditional, unwavering, unbreakable love for you. 

It had been 8 months, when the 7th thunderstorm hit. It was a bad one, too. Loud and intimidating and all consuming. 

Hyunjin watched the city drown, streets looking like rivers and not a car on the move. And he thought of you. He always thought of you. His mind was overtaken by you, had been ever since you met him. The break up hadn’t changed that. Because he knew that you were it. You were his person, you were his end game. His heart was bleeding but he’d never stopped loving you. He’d tried to stay away, but he never stopped texting. Not even after you blocked him. And when he saw how bad the rain was, how loud the thunder roared, how bright the lightning struck, he couldn’t stay still.

So he moved.

You felt bad. Horrific. Worse than you had in months. The storm had triggered every single bad thought you’d ever had and you were curled into a ball on your bathroom floor, gripping your phone so hard your knuckles turned white. It was not okay, you were not okay, nothing would ever be okay. You couldn’t take it anymore. In a moment of sheer impulse, you unblocked his number. 1430 messages. He’d messaged you every day, multiple times. He’d sent pictures and poems and short little notes and videos of Kkami and I still love you over and over and over. So many messages. For a moment you were so overwhelmed that you forgot about the storm. 

But then you got to the last message. “Come down.” Sent 3 minutes ago. He was here. He was here. 

Never in a million years would you have ever thought that anyone could get you to leave your home during a thunderstorm. But now you were moving, putting on your shoes, grabbing your keys. No jacket, no umbrella, just your worn out sweatpants and that damned cardigan you’d worn when you first met him. It was like your heart was urging you, pushing you out the door, demanding that you finally do the right thing. And you were too weak, too broken, too incomplete without him to deny yourself.

You were soaked the moment you stepped foot outside your apartment building. But you didn’t care, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the man standing there, in the pouring rain, looking at you with those eyes, those damn beautiful eyes. Your favourite eyes. The only eyes you ever wanted on you. You stepped closer, meeting him in the rain, and for once not jumping when the thunder came again. Because you didn’t even register. All you could see was him. 

You stared at each other for a moment, standing there, close enough to touch but not daring. “My love”, he said, barely audible in the rain. “Hyune”, you answered, and then:“Why are you here?” You watched his eyes flicker over your face as tears started to stream down his already wet cheeks. “Because you hate thunderstorms.” 

Fenya’s Masterlist

Taglist @lov3rachan @breakmeoff

[ozzgin]

https://www.tumblr.com/ozzgin/751732947596541952/yanmonster-who-is-a-famous-author-of-human?source=share

Oh, oh, oh, what if he suddenly has a strange reader? Apparently, his ordinary readers are just as humanefucker as he is, and this is noticeable, but in this particular reader such interest is almost unnoticeable. But he's full of interesting observations and ideas about his stories and delicious, quirky, strangely specific and deep interactions with people. With them you can reflect on interactions with people and this is always interesting. And that’s how they start a kind of pen pal friendship. This unknown friend slowly thawed and began asking strange questions about monsters. And I didn’t come up with anything further, and as you guessed, this unknown friend was a human with a strange and quite possibly sexual interest in monster’s works. Monster, of course, does not know that he is corresponding with a human.

Scratch the hiking encounter, this is so much better! Bless you, anon. 😭 Monster Author Concept here.

The human fan is obsessed with monster author’s works, but for completely opposite reasons. You like to self insert as the human protagonist.

So you begin to write him letters, praising his talent, and asking questions about the monsters featured in the books. Are they an accurate depiction? Is this how it really works with monster mating? The beastly writer, in return, is somewhat confused: he would’ve guessed you want to know more about the humans, not the plain, cardboard characters he threw in just for the sake of a spicy plot. What do you mean you want to know more about monsters in heat? Surely you know yourself better than he does.

And then, another peculiarity: you’re shockingly knowledgeable about human lore. He’ll occasionally try to prove you wrong, only to receive a flawless argument in the next letter. He’ll click his tongue in annoyance, envious of your creative endeavor. Where do you get your sources from? How do you come up with these ideas? He’s rather confident that hardly anyone in the monster realm can match his literature on the topic. He’s been researching humans for decades.

Who exactly are you? He insists on a meeting, curious to see this potential rival with his own eyes. Similarly, you’d like to confirm that he is indeed a monster as he claims.

You knock on the door to his office, and he demands to know who’s visiting.

“It’s the human you’ve been corresponding with”, you state with a cheeky grin.

[luiluvr]

treacherous — luigi mangione

genuinely spent so much time pondering how to write this out, thank you to the anon who sent the request i really love how it turned out :,) also in my head luigi loves taylor swift, hence the ending mwahahaha

WARNINGS: none, fluff, a moment where luigi snaps from stress, f!reader, kinda (not really) proofread

SUMMARY: After being freed from prison, Luigi has plenty to catch up on and he tries his best to reply to letters from supporters, but between keeping up with them in a timely manner, having a new girlfriend and other things he’s trying to do — he snaps at you.

WC: 2.1k

It had been over a year since he walked free. Through thick and thin — it had been endless hours of pondering, worry and prayers to a higher power; unsure if they were even listening. By some miracle, the verdict fell on the courtroom like an angelic tune: “not guilty.” His legal team had spent so much time in understanding every aspect and working through so many kinks that they encountered. But they did it.

It was you he found in the midst of it all, an escape from the hells he suffered through, when he saw you, when he read your letter – he felt like he had found heaven. There was something about you that fascinated and intrigued him. He impacted you equally – the male’s image, what he stood for… Something almost revolutionary that somehow united a split nation. Your heart ached every time something new was revealed about his case, the way he had been treated was diabolical. A disgrace to the country – to the world – to the people.

Strong as a tree he stood, resilient and kind despite his circumstances. Even behind bars – he was such a darling before it all happened. You always believed in his innocence. The mere thought of support made his heart cheerful, even in the strange, various ways people expressed it. He was proud to bring people together.

So, now that he sat in the comfort of his own home, still haunted by the memories of the life he endured inside that prison – he kept a smile on his face and continued to spread positivity, more than happy to keep in contact with those who showed him nothing but love in a time of pain. It was difficult to write back to what seemed like over a thousand different letters, but he kept persistent and worked diligently day in and day out to be sure everyone received a response from him. He was writing a letter back to a mother, to whom he pondered his reply for a few days now. It troubled him more than most letters normally would, considering these types were always heartbreaking. The ways the healthcare system treated families was so dehumanizing. It was a sad reality.

He wasn’t all for the public eye and attention on him, he never was – he appreciated it nonetheless, he would never not be grateful for people caring. It was a rocky process, getting out so many responses. Sometimes he’d get a bit stressed because of it. Today was one of those days, he had a major hand cramp, a slight headache on the left temple and a sudden stump. His fingers trembled, causing a shake through the pen he jotted with; a cramp in his back made him sit up straight forcefully and he glanced out the apartment window – a little break for his eyes.

When sense finally sunk back in and he focused on the paper, you had walked back in from running a few errands. Luigi had been so indulged in keeping up with his replies for weeks. It became a little annoying for you, not necessarily because you needed his attention – okay maybe you did; but all he did lately was write. Day in, day out. He tried not to overwhelm himself with anything else so it didn’t disturb his thought process while reading then replying to letters. Perhaps tonight you would cook something for him, and he could take a break to talk with you. His routine was just: wake up, clean up, read through letters, have lunch around noon, then he’d start responding to all of those letters he spent reading during the morning. He’d grab a snack for dinner or order out for you both, and still be writing.

Sure, his dedication was endearing, however it could be too much on you. It felt like your partner had just become another person in the house rather than what he was before he decided: “I think I’ll start replying to all of those letters.” 

“Hey Lu,” you said softly as you hung your keys on the hook by the door, kicked off your shoes and sat your bag on the couch. He doesn’t reply, just hums something as he writes. You sighed and carried the bag of groceries to the kitchen, then sat them on the counter. “I’m cooking dinner tonight, so we can sit together and eat. Maybe you can tell me about your letters?” You smile, placing some refrigerated things in their place; and all you’re met with is a nod from the back of his head. Shaking your own, you slowly pad off to the bedroom. You had been ready to shower since you got up, while you were out, you went to the gym. 

After, you winded down. Drying your hair carefully, applying skincare and dressing comfortably. Maybe an hour went by – you weren’t entirely sure. You stand, sliding into your fuzzy slippers and emerging from the bedroom, no surprise that Luigi’s still sitting there silently. “Hey, I’m gonna start cooking now, I know it’s a little early but I was thinking we could have a movie night.” 

No response … You continue on with what you please. 

He was hyper-focused on making the best response, and all he heard was the nose you were making. Clanking a pot or two, rustling food packages, popping oils, every sound sinking into his ear drums and driving him nuts. Accidentally, you dropped some tomatoes, they were just the small cherry ones. “Shit,” you muttered, they rolled around and scattered. Luigi rubs his temple. When dinner was finished, you were so content with it, you glanced over at Lu. “I’m done with supper, are you ready to eat?” ...  “Luigi.”

Silence. “Babe.”

Nothing. Again. “Luigi,” You call, and he turns, staring at you. He then rises up, comes over and picks up the plate you were holding for him. “Mhm.” He hums and walks back off to the desk. Like getting a toddler’s attention – the casual span of a gnat of course, Luigi plops back down in his chair and eats while reading another letter. You dine alone at the table, quietly. The only sound to flow throughout the room is the gentle scrape of the silverware on the plate, or small swallow. You offer Luigi seconds, but he denies. So, you take his plate and begin cleaning up – normally he would assist with that, or do it himself if you cooked; alas, tonight he wouldn’t.

Your hands are rushed over by warm, soapy water as you scrub the plates, the silverware, the pan and pot you used. Then carefully wiped down the stove, the countertops and the table despite you being the only one who sat there tonight. You were able to sit down, just let out relief knowing that was all set and done – in the corner was Lu, writing again. After dinner you guys would relax on the couch and watch a series or movie together, soak in life. He was able to enjoy breathing freely again when he’d sink into the cushions and throw pillows – wrap his strong arm around your side as you lay your head on his broad chest, your serotonin bursting out as you burrow in his embrace.

It's the opposite, you don’t lean into anyone, no extra warmth, no company, just you, the couch and the black TV screen you hadn’t turned on yet. You wanted to wait, perhaps he’d change his mind tonight, he’ll set everything aside and come to you. Tuck himself behind your body as he cradles you into his side, cover both his and your legs with a fuzzy blanket, pet your hair until you eventually fall asleep right there so he’ll carry you to bed.

Not tonight.

You take yourself back to bed after TV time – if you even consider it that. The TV stayed on mute as to not disturb your boyfriend’s intense writing session in the corner of the apartment. It only bothered you somewhat. 

What finally tipped the iceberg was waking up at 2 AM and finding the illuminating light from a small lamp on his desk still on. His eyelids droopy, his pen hovers over the page hesitantly, shaking ever so slightly. Luigi was one blink away from passing out.

“Lu, come to bed will you?” Your voice replies gently – there’s no visible reaction from the male. “Luigi,” you repeated. He draws in a breath, sitting up, his back cracks quietly, causing his face to contort in a reflection of mild discomfort. Being hunched over the desk all day is equally worse to being hung over a laptop or phone all day. Which he normally was against doing to himself. He cut a connection with electronics at a certain point in his life, and he swore it was one of the greatest things he did to help his mental and physical health. Now here he is, sleep deprived and ruining his posture simultaneously 

“Please come to bed, you look so exhausted.” 

He tilts his head and continues to write (what you’re assuming is) a new letter. You just missed him, you wanted to cuddle to sleep and know he was there in the bed by you as you close your eyes and let peace swallow you whole. Your heart aches to be without him – even if he is there. You love him too much. 

“Luigi, babe–” “Oh my god, don’t you see that I’m trying to write these letters?! Just shut up for five seconds, I’ll go to bed when I’m ready!” He snaps at you, the tiredness is clear as day on his face. Normally his skin is a gentle tan, slowly losing its color – going pale again. HIs eye bags were saddening and as you stared in disbelief that he snapped at you like that. It’s truly painful to you. You understood he was busy, overly stressed trying to respond to more letters than possible every day. He needed to slow down though. He was driving himself crazy by not sleeping enough and not socially interacting only through letters.

He sat silent after his little snap, he sighs as immediate guilt crept over him and he looked at your expression. Never used to that, he never gets angry or upset with you, he always talks it out slowly, genuinely, lovingly. He had no idea what came over him, but now – staring at you – his beautiful, tender-loving girlfriend who he probably just startled by yelling at – was eyes-wide and arms folded. 

“Baby, I’m so, so sorry – I didn’t mean…” His apology is delayed when you walk off to the bedroom. He rubs his aching face, then combs his fingers through his curls and stands – finally. After hours. He swallows a lump in his throat as he makes his way back to your shared room and leans against the doorframe. “Look, baby…”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Lu.” Your voice is muffled by the way you lay against the pillow – facing away from the door. “Look – I didn’t mean to snap at you okay? I’m really stressed right now… That’s not an excuse though, I should never yell at you, bellissima.” He murmurs, sitting beside your feet at the edge of the bed, his weight sinks the mattress awkwardly. His hand reaches out, lanky fingers wrap around your leg and he gives it a squeeze through the fabric of your pajama pants. When you don’t respond, he clenches his jaw, he has no idea what to do other than to give you attention. He should’ve done it before, never ignored you, he felt horrible.

“I’m so, so sorry princess.” He whispers, crawling up on the bed behind you. He snaked his arms around your waist, his breath heats the side of your neck as he begins peppering kisses right there. All he knew was he wasn’t letting either of you go to bed until you were happy again. He squishes your back against his front. “Dolcezza,” he sighs, “Please talk to me.”

You shake your head slowly, he kisses your jawline. “You’re my princess,” his breath tickles your skin. “I’m gonna make time for you, I shouldn’t prioritize anything else in the world over you, my love. Even cheesy letters.” He says, you turn onto your back and he immediately grins, the corners of his lips turn up, his cheeks blush every time he sees that pretty face of yours. He inches towards you, resting his chin in the valley between your breasts, harmlessly.

He flaps and flutters his big hazel eyes, those flawless lashes – like a new puppy. “Oh fine, you big baby.” You smile, but his smile’s brighter. He leans up and plants his plump rosy lips against yours. “So treacherous.” His eyes meet yours again.

You squint and raise a brow, “Was that a Taylor Swift reference?”

“Maybe.”

“You actually like Taylor Swift!”

“All too well.” He says cheekily.

[yanderedrabbles]

I spy with my little eye some new upcoming works 👀

You spy quite well anon. I've updated my WIP list to include ideas I definitely plan to work on as well as some requests. Take a look:

Upcoming Works

Yandere Roommates [dubcon] With your boss mysteriously firing you and your job applications getting lost in the mail, it's no surprise that you can't afford rent this month. Lucky for you, your roommates have a very generous offer.

Yandere Wild West Sheriff: Ain't you just the sweetest lil thing?

Yandere Dictator:  He's a high ranking member of the ruling party, with all the wealth and power denied to the working class. And when he says he wants you, that's exactly what he gets.

Dairy of a Vampire:  You find a strange book in your husband's library, and on closer inspection, realise every entry is all about you. [Sequel to Letters from a Yandere Vampire]

Yandere Aztec Warrior x Āhuiyani Reader:  His body is sworn to war and yours to pleasure. How strange, that you find comfort in each other.

Yandere Sugar Baby:  It's not uncommon for a wealthy, older woman to take a younger lover. But the way he looks at you isn't normal at all.

Yandere Witch Hunter x Witch Reader: In a last ditch effort to save yourself from execution, you cast a love spell on the town's witch hunter.

Yandere Aliens [noncon] Human women are the most prized slaves in the galaxy, and when your ship crashes on an unknown planet, it's inhabitants are keen to find out why.

Yandere Southern Gothic Cowboy: He doesn't come to church and you never see him out in the sun. Who exactly is this stranger?

Yandere Rockstar: He's a rockstar punk who wants to fight the whole damn world. But all his songs seem to be about one special person.

Yandere Dragon x Princess Reader: This fairytale isn't what you expect.

Yandere Slasher [noncon] With all your friends dead and no way to escape, you offer the killer something else in exchange for your life.

Yandere Ex-boyfriend [noncon] You wake up to a ship over five hundred million kilometres away from your home planet and an ex desperate to prove his love.

Yandere Pirate x Mermaid Reader: You've seen her time and time again, leaning against the stern and staring out at the horizon. She always seems so melancholy. Maybe a song will help?

There are also quite a few requests about the Yandere Boys ™️ so I'm working on those too.

[sluttysnowangel666]

The Wolf & The Wildling

Part 2 to The Woman Beyond the Wall, last part.

masterlist

Summary: One year after Cregan’s near death experience with the wildling woman he met, he returns beyond the wall to find and recruit her in hopes of fighting alongside him for Rhaenyra Targaryen at the start of the Dance of Dragons.

cw; smut af come on you know me, really rough cregan, overstimulation, bit of angst but a happy ending :3, talks of SA, childbirth, no use of Y/N but an x reader,

stop not me getting emotional at my own story bc i imagined the end of scott street by PB playing at the ending😭am i a cornball?? anyways, thank you to the anons in my asks for the inspo, i wasn’t even really sure how to continue this story, although i knew i wanted more for cregan and his wildling, you guys gave me the inspiration i needed to give them their ending! tag list: @rebeccawinters

Every day Cregan hadn’t gone back out there felt like another day wasted.

He struggled to do his duties, struggled to sleep, fight, listen, do anything that required attention from him.

And yet despite their rather harsh separation, Cregan still thought of her with every free moment he had. It didn’t help many lords were also insisting the Warden of the North marry a noble daughter. He knew he had to do his duty, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.

It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d begun to forget his favorite parts about her. It felt as if her strange laugh no longer echoed in his mind, as if he could no longer envision her scarred yet still smoothed skin.

He had the dagger with him always. It was like keeping a piece of her with him. He remembered the pain so vividly, could still feel the throb in his shoulder if he thought about it too hard.

Yet, the ache was nothing compared to the painful thought that always seemed to stay in his mind.

Would he ever see her again?

He couldn’t help but wonder if the Gods had greater plans for them. He prayed that they did.

“My Lord.” A voice interrupted Cregan from his thoughts. He stood, turning to face the person. “A raven has arrived from Dragonstone.”

Cregan took the scroll from the maester, quickly opening it to reveal its contents. It was a letter from Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was sending her son in hopes of gaining the support of the North, and requested Cregan have an audience with her heir, Jacaerys.

He would have to return to the Wall.

He hadn’t returned, much to the dismay of the Nights Watch, since he had nearly died from his wildling’s arrows. Even the thought of going near the Wall made his heart skip a beat. She would be so close, yet so far. He knew he could no longer avoid the wall. His duty to the men there was dire, and he had let his own fears get in the way of that.

As for his lover, he wasn’t even sure she still wanted him. As far as he knew, she hated him; she wanted to put an arrow through his eye, his dagger through his chest. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her again. No lady had ever compared to her. He had found his other half, and now felt empty without her.

If he did find her, what would he even do? They were bonded by love, yet separated by more than a Wall.

The separation would soon not matter anymore.

Winter is coming.

��——

A fortnight later

Castle Black

Cregan had welcomed the prince to Winterfell, then accompanied him to the Wall.

The young men walked, discussing terms of Cregan’s service.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing. I need my men here.” Cregan says to his prince.

“Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather,” Cregan twitched at the word wildling. “the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming, to the whole of the realm my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.”

Jacaerys trails off, standing against the guard that overlooked the entire outside of the Wall.

“My father brought King Jahaerys and Queen Alyssane to see the wall. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross… Do you think my ancestors built a 700 foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?”

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan finally looks beyond the Wall for the first time in a year, his mind thinking of her for a brief moment, and then the darkness that lies beyond it. “Death.”

“I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters. They are… wellhoned. I can ready them to march at once.”

“If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.”

“They’ll fight hard.” Cregan says, his mind once again thinking of his love as he says his next words. “Like Northerners.”

Jacaerys senses something; more words that the Warden of the North wished to speak.

“Is there something else you can offer us, My Lord?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan hesitates. “There is a woman…” He looks. beyond the wall again. “She is fierce, deadly with a bow. If I can find her… I can ask her to lead the graybeards into war.”

“Should she accept, my mother will be more than pleased to have her.” Jacaerys asks.

“My Lord!” Cregan turns, “A raven has arrived… Urgent news from Dragstone.”

Cregan looks at the man holding the scroll, who holds a sight of worry on his face. Cregan quickly opens the scroll, reading its contents.

Cregan looks at the prince, and Jacaerys tries reading the man’s stoic features.

All Cregan can do is hand Jacaerys the scroll, and let him read for himself.

———

Another fortnight passed following the news of the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Jacaerys had left the Wall at once to return to Dragonstone, whilst Cregan began to prepare his graybeards to march.

“My Lord, why must you go back beyond the Wall? The graybeards do not need a leader. I do not think it wise to let them be lead by a woman beyond the Wall, let alone the one who killed the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.” His maester tells him, worried of how the people of Winterfell and the men on the Wall will react.

“They will not know she’s a wildling. Tis’ not important information. All they need to know is she will lead them well into battle. I trust you’ll keep this information I’ve shared with you private, Maester Windell.”

“Of course, My Lord. You can count on my discretion, always, but I fear wonder if this journey is for more than a leader.”

Cregan stops his packing, not wanting to share more information than he already has with his maester. “No, maester. I only am going to help the Queen. I will be back shortly, with or without the wildling. Winter is coming, and I will not get lost beyond the Wall.”

The maester didn’t argue, so Cregan made his fortnight journey back to the Wall, and then beyond it.

He felt fear when his horse took its first steps onto the icy tundra outside the Wall’s gate. He feared he would not find her, feared she may have died, feared she would kill him before he got to kiss her one last time.

The late summer snow was not too harsh yet, but Cregan knew he did not have long to find her before Winter came.

He searched for days for her.

He returned to the spot where he first set up camp, finding the bark where he had carved a dire wolf had been completely torn and shredded by a knife.

When he returned to the cave it was dark, and no trace of her had been left behind. It made it feel like the moments they shared in there never happened.

He felt lost. He set up his camp in the cave, but she had not snuck to it during the night like last time. If she had, she truly left no trace. But, he knew he hadn’t felt her yet. She wasn’t there.

2 weeks into the journey, he had dreamt of her.

He dreamt he was a wolf, hunting, when he finally saw her.

She was sleeping, ever so soundly, beneath a bright red weirwood. He growled at her, and she awoke quickly, immediately grabbing and aiming her bow at him.

She gasped quickly, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

She released the arrow into his eye, and he awoke.

He was sweating despite the cold, and the burning feeling in his eye was lingering.

He rubbed it softly, but then directed his attention back to her in the dream. It was really her. She looked different. She looked stronger somehow, and her hair had grown greatly. She had it in a long, thick braid. There were bags under her eyes, like she had been exhausted from something.

He stood and exited the cave. The sun was slowly rising, but there was a blue hue that made the snow on the ground glisten. He closed his eyes, stretched, and yawned when he heard a sound.

It was a familiar sound… the sound of a bow string being pulled tightly.

He lowered his arms from his stretch, and opened his eyes.

There she was.

There she was.

She knelt on one knee, aiming her arrow at his eye. Her eyes burnt with a fire that he’d never seen, her breathing was quick and angry, her lips turned in a sad scowl, she was fueled with adrenaline.

He smiled, laughing softly. He couldn’t believe she was here. She pulled the string tighter at his sweet smile, her heart breaking at seeing him truly here.

He took a hesitant step towards her, but stopped.

A soft whining sound came from her back.

His smile faded.

She lowered her bow slowly, eventually dropping it completely. She had a fabric diagonal across her body. She moved it underneath her arm, and then twisted it around her body.

Her hands gently found and cradled the babe.

Cregan gasped. He couldn’t believe it.

She softly hushed the babe, tracing her fingers over its face. She whispered soft, comforting words to it. The babe made gentle little noises.

“Is that…” His voice was barely above a whisper. She looked at him solemnly. His hand covered his mouth.

“This is your son, Cregan.” She finally spoke. Her voice was smooth and melodic, different from how he heard her last time. He stepped towards her, falling to his knees. His whole body was shaking, and not from the cold.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, holding his arms out, hoping she’d trust him enough to hold his son.

She nervously hands him his child, fearful he might take her little babe, her only piece of Cregan, and never return again.

“No.” She says. “I only birthed him a moon ago.”

Cregan can’t hold it in anymore, and begins sobbing. All of his emotions pent up from the last year pour out. He holds the babe close to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

He’d missed her so greatly this past year and now seeing her here, alone with this little babe, he’d realized how badly he erred. He wasn’t there to comfort her, hold her, help her. She had suffered it all alone.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

She stares at him, her face unwavering. She was so angry. She wanted to kill him so bad, to take back her babe and cut his throat.

But, she couldn’t.

He’d broken her heart in such an unimaginable way. She’d cried over him for weeks, and when her blood hadn’t came she knew the worst had happened. But now he was here, holding their babe and sobbing like a child. She didn’t even know Cregan was capable of such emotions. She didn’t truly know him, and he didn’t truly know her.

Her hand found its way to his broad shoulder to try to comfort him. Her other hand moved to cradle his cheek. He rested his face into her hand, spilling wet tears on her.

“Oh, Cregan.” She whispered, wiping the never ending tears from his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, hushing him like she did their babe. She wrapped her other arm around him, bringing her warm body against his while still being careful of their infant.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I should not have left you. I should have killed those men and brought you home-“

“Sh, sh, Cregan.” She whispers again. “I’m yours, as you are mine.”

Her words send him back into tears. She presses soft kisses to the tears on his cheek, weaving her fingers in his curls that she desperately missed.

“Where have you been?” He asks, minutes after calming down. “I’ve searched these whole damn woods for you.”

She smiles softly, “You think I don’t know that?” He smiles. “Why did you come back here, Cregan?”

He looks down at their sleeping babe, then back at her. “I’ve wanted to come back every day since I have been apart from you… But, I couldn’t find the strength. I regret it more than anything. I regret leaving you, I regret not coming sooner, I-“

She cuts him off, placing her warm lips onto his. Not breaking the kiss, her hands take the babe from him, setting him aside next to them.

“What are you-“

She slaps him across the face, with such a strong hand that he can’t help but stop and look back at her in total shock. She pulls his lips back into her, confusing him with her back and forth attitude. “If you ever leave me again, I really will put an arrow through your eye.”

He smirks, pulling her back into him with his strength. “Now we’re even.” She whispers.

“We were even when you nearly killed me last year.” He says, she growls at him, but they continue kissing. “I wear these scars with honor.”

She tears into his soft clothes, “Take him inside, and then come back out here and make me yours again.”

He pulls away with haste, grabbing his babe gently and walking back into the cave. She follows, right on his heels. He finds a safe spot for their babe, setting the sleeping child down.

He turns, grabbing her by the neck and kissing her, pushing her backwards out to the cold.

“Be gentle with me.” She whispers into his lips.

“No.” Cregan says, ripping off her furs and throwing them on the ground. She smirks, not wanting him to anyway.

He grabs her by her hair and she shrieks. He pushes her down to her knees, and she sits in the cold snow once again. He unlaces his breeches, and she quickly tugs them down with his soft clothes.

She presses her cold fingers onto his pelvis, and she places gentle kisses along his length. She looks up at him with her big, doe eyes. He pulls her head back by her hair again and she gasps. He pushes himself into her mouth, immediately groaning at her warm tongue. She moans around him, placing her hand at what she can’t fit in her mouth. He grabs both sides of her face, thrusting his hips into her mouth, not realizing his roughness. He had missed her so much, and he was so lost in the pleasure of her mouth.

She gagged repeatedly, her eyes flowing with tears. Her free hand rested on his toned stomach for balance, and she scratched her nails into him from time to time.

He pulled her head back with a pop of her lips, and looked down at the little mess before him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, drool spilling from her lips, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the tension between her legs.

He pushed her back into the snow and got on his knees, placing himself between her legs. He wrapped his hand around her throat again, rubbing his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

“You’ve missed me?” He asks.

“I’ve missed that cock.” She teases.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be much to miss soon.” He presses a harsh kiss to her lips, sliding himself into her. She gasps into his lips, trying to pull away to cry out, but he refuses to let her go. He pulls one of her legs to his chest to give him a deeper angle and she whines into his lips. He starts thrusting, fast and harsh, into her healing cunt. His hand moves from her throat to her breast, now round and large with milk than the last time he’d had her.

“Cregan!” She cries out loudly, finally breaking free from his lips. She throws her head back into ecstasy, her hair becoming wet from the snow. Cregan moans loudly, his thrusts sloppy and quick.

“I’m putting another babe in you.” He moans, forgetting why he was there to retrieve her in the first place.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She says, slapping him across the face. He looks at her angrily, a wolf awakening inside him. He grabs her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he fucks her harshly and angrily.

“I’m gonna cum.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t.” He says. She gasps, begging and pleading for her release. He slows his thrust, leaving her in agony. She bucks her hips towards him, but he pushes them down, locking her in place with his strong arm.

“I fucking hate you.” She moans.

“Cum for me then, and we can see if that is how you feel for me after.” His thrusts go back to their fast, sloppy pace, and she moans. Her hands grab his wrist, clawing her nails into his forearm.

She hits her peak and moans his name repeatedly. Her fingers dig into the snow again, the other hand digging into his arm. He growls, not stopping and continuing to thrust.

“Stop it.” She whispers, her body shaking at the sensitivity. Cregan doesn’t listen, only maintaining his harsh pace. He lifts both of her legs to his chest, his length touching her womb. “Please, Cregan, fuck!” She whines, tears spilling from her eyes at the overstimulation.

Her fists hit his chest, and yet he continues. She slaps him across the face, over and over again, and he still continues, his face stoic, desperate for nothing more than to see her writhing beneath him.

She sobs as she cums on him again, slapping and hitting him harshly. Her body is a trembling mess, peaking with pleasure and pain. Finally satisfied, he lets his own peak wash over him, filling her to the brim with his seed again, right against her womb. He rests over her, moaning and biting her neck, despite her nails scratching and drawing blood against his neck.

“Cunt.” She moans into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her shaking body. He pulls out, gently, allowing her to rest before he carries her back into the cave, stepping into the hot spring with her in his arms.

She rests against him, and it’s as if they had never been apart. He looks over at their sleeping babe on the ground, smiling gently. He looks back down at his love, his smile fading.

“There is a war brewing in Westeros.” He finally tells her.

“What for this time?” She asks, drawing little shapes on his chest, not seeming to really care about his answer.

He decides to wait to tell her, instead wanting to enjoy the moment with her.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you… before I left.” He says. She sighs.

“Cregan… Do you wish to know why I killed the Lord Commander?”

He looks down at her, confused. He assumed her only reason was she hated crows. She looks up at him.

“Why?” He asks.

She waits before explaining. “He’d come out there before with some of his men. They often hunted wildlings for fun. They’d tell the men back at the wall it was for a hunting exhibition, but really… They were tired of the women from some place called Mole’s Town.”

Cregan was still confused.

“That was years ago, when I was in a tribe… But, the crows just kept coming back… And our tribe refused to leave, because our ancestors had settled there hundreds of years before.” She pauses, “The Lord Commander always said I was his favorite… I left eventually. Turns out I’m safer alone. That’s when I started killing crows.”

Cregan realized he was gripping her arm too tightly, and loosened his hold. What she said changed everything. Men were coming beyond the Wall to force themselves on wildling women. He wanted to be sick. Cregan’s last words to her before he left… that he would kill her for what she did.

Anger ignited inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Lord Commander was dead, she got her revenge. But, the thought of that happening to her, the words he spoke before he left her alone. It was too much.

She noticed his tension, and placed her hand on his cheek. “My wolf.” She whispered. He closed his eyes and turned away from her touch.

“I’ve failed you… Again, and again, and again.” He says, tears spilling from his eyes.

She straddles him, forcing him to look at her. “Aye. You have.” He looks at her, not expecting brr bluntness. She wipes his tears. “But you’re still mine, Cregan Stark… and I’m not perfect either.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips, wrapping his arms around her.

“So, what were you saying about the war?” She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is a war forming between the dragons. It is growing more and more dire.”

“Dragons?” She asked. “Like in the stories?”

“Aye, my lady. Except these are no stories. The dragons are dancing, and the North must stand ready to fight with the true Queen.”

“Queen?” She asks. “Aren’t you King in the North?”

“No, my love. Starks bent the knee over a century ago.”

She leans back to look at him. “Bend the knee to me.”

“I do every time I stick my cock in you.” She laughs, a sweet and gentle laugh, no longer the chaotic one she used to do.

“You’re different.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I am a mother now. My child has softened my witch heart.” She jests.

Mother. The mother to his child, specifically. He couldn’t ask her to lead the gray beards no longer. She needed to return to Winterfell with him to raise their son. His smile fades and she notices.

“You’re different.” She repeats his words. “Why did you come? Truly?”

“You are a warrior… and the North must stand ready.” He looks at her, his eyes worried.

“You… You want me to fight?” She asks, stepping off him and standing. The water stops at her hips, and he tries hard to keep his attention focused on her face. “Just a moon after I nearly died pushing out your fat little babe?”

“No, no, my lady. I do not want you fighting no longer.” He looks at her, taking her hands in his. “I want you to come home… with me. To Winterfell.”

“My home is the North.” She says, taking her hand away.

“No, no.” He stands, resting his hands on her arms. He looks over at their sleeping son. “He changes everything.”

His son would be considered a bastard, by all traits, but he was his son nonetheless. He would raise him as a Stark… as his heir to Winterfell.

“Home is not a place.” Cregan says. “A home is what you make it… My place may be in Winterfell, but it is not my home if you and my son are not with me.”

She sighs. “I’m no lady, Cregan.”

“I know… and I don’t care.”

“I will not watch you marry a noble while I am your whore that you force to work in your castle and fuck at night.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Cregan says, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. “Starks are honorable men. You will be my wife, and my son will be my heir. I will kill any man who ever dares harm you again.”

She stares at him as he continues. “I needed an excuse to come back out here… If I told them I came out here to get you to lead the Northern army, then it raised less suspicion. But, I care no longer. I only care about you.”

“What if I say no? That I won’t join you?” She asks.

“Then I would accept.” He looks at his son. “All I ask is you let me bring him.”

She looks at their son. Cregan continues. “He will never know a cold night, he will learn to fight among men, he’ll have a full belly every time he goes to sleep, he’ll be respected by all those around him… and if you came, so would you.”

She looks back at Cregan. “He will join you.”

Cregan closes his eyes, her hand resting against his cheeks.

“As will I.” He opens them to look at her again.

“Truly?” She nods. He laughs, breathlessly, pulling her in for a deep hug. His fingers weave into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I will fight for you as well.” He pulled away to look at her.

“No.” He says. “No, I need you with me at Winterfell.”

“Cregan… A queen! You honor me, choosing me to lead your Northern army.”

“I don’t want you to.” He says. “What of our son? You could be gone for years… You could not return.”

She laughs, “My Lord Stark… You’d be a bloody fool to think any man could kill me.”

“This is hardly a war between men, my girl. This is a war between dragons, and none will ever be so bloody.”

“Cregan… I am of the free folk, which means I will always be free. Being free means I have the choice to fight for you… and for a Queen.”

———

Cregan returned to Winterfell a week later, carrying his babe in his arms on his horse, with a wilding woman behind him.

His maester was bewildered at the sight before him. “My Lord… Who is this babe you carry?”

“Maester, this is my son and this woman here is his mother… and my betrothed. She will be leading the graybeards in the war. Call upon wet nurses and maids to help foster our son while she is gone.”

“A-At once, My Lord.” The maester stumbled over his words, giving the wildling one last look before going to do his task.

Later that night, her and Cregan sat in his chambers. His lover couldn’t help but explore and ask questions about everything in the castle.

“What is this?”

“A pen and paper.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you tell the maester a message and then he writes it down and gives it to a raven to send off.”

“And this?”

“A tub.”

“What does it do?”

“Bathes you.” It went on like this for hours, but he didn’t care. He was glad to share with her his way of life. Her naiveness at noble life was sweet.

When they cuddled up in his furs in their now shared bed, she laughed with giddiness. “Ask them to bring more.”

“My love, you’re under four bear pelts and the hearth is at full flame, you’re going to get hot.”

“Hot?”

“Warm, my girl. Too warm.”

“I don’t care. This is all so exquisite. You should’ve brought me here much sooner, you know.”

Cregan simply smiled, looking down at their son in his arms. “Did you have any names in mind for him?”

She hums, resting on her elbow to face them. “Cregan is quite a handsome name.”

“We can name give him a Stark name if you like mine.”

“Like what?”

“How about… Benjen Stark.”

“Benjen.” She whispered, sitting up and touching her son’s dark locks. “I love it.”

Her and Cregan locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

“I do.” She says, cradling Cregan’s cheek.

“I wish to marry you, make you Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

“I will be your… Lady… when I return.” She says, unsure of the proper term to use.

He laughs, “Wife. You will be my wife. I can have the maester teach you to read and write upon your return.”

“Truly?” She asks. “Like stories?”

“Stories, history, anything my betrothed wishes to read she can.”

“Betrothed?”

“It means we’re to be wed, at some point.”

She presses her forehead to Cregan’s. “I can’t believe I am here.”

“Neither can I, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, and they fell asleep like that, Benjen full and warm in his father’s arms.

Cregan and his love were only able to share a few nights together before it was time for her to march with the graybeards.

“You are strong, my lady. Command these men like you did me, and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

Cregan lifted her onto her horse, and she nervously settled into the saddle. He stepped onto his own, Benjen tightly secured to his chest as the babe was to his mother when Cregan stumbled back upon them.

She took her hand in his, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Come back safe to me, my girl.”

She smirked, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kill some Southerners.”

“Goodbye, my sweet boy.” She says, touching Benjen’s hair one last time.

“Take care of our son, Cregan.” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“I have a gift for you before you go.”

His master at arms came to him, handing him the freshly made dire wolf crest. He pinned it on her chest, and she looked down, tracing her fingers over the craftsman ship.

“You are a Stark… from this day, until your last day.” He said. She looked at Cregan, pride in her face.

“I’ll make you proud, my Lord Stark.”

He handed her the dagger, the very thing that brought them together. “I know you will.”

With that, she turned and slowly began to leave with her horse.

She turned to look back at them. “By the way, I killed your horse last year.”

Cregan’s smile faded, but then she laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. She turned back around, and he looked down at his son, his beautiful little pup. The babe’s big gray eyes staring back at the ones he inherited from his father.

Cregan rode the opposite direction from her. He turned again to look at her one last time, and she turned to look at him too.

He smiled at her, letting the tears fall. She smiled back. He watched her ride the opposite way, and she watched him as he rode back to Winterfell until they could no longer see each other.

He would miss her greatly, but he knew she would return. This parting would not be forever, for they knew that they were bonded by love, seperated by only distance this time. No wall, no duty, no pain would ever come between them again.

He couldn’t wait for her to get back to them so they could start their life together.

Forever.