#catching snowflakes on tongue

[sorrowcure]

(Original)

Heavenly garden — ALNST | 02/10/2024

Sorry I'm late to this one, t'was my birthday recently so I was busy chilling as one does.

I tried my best with this one, hopefully it's alright bc pronouns in Korean confuse me.

[goldencherriess]

Such a joy to see the first snow of winter

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[lover-of-classic-lit]

it’s SNOWINGGGGGGGG

it was snowing earlier today too and half my class sprinted out into the commons to enjoy it

we’re literally going to be legal adults soon and this is still happening

[randomlyandrogynousfox-blog]

[with-my-calamitous-love]

LEAVE THE WARMEST BED I’VE EVER KNOWN

katsuki bakugou x reader

on a cold winter night, you gain news that your ex boyfriend and pro-hero dynamight has returned from a work trip out of the country. coincidentally, he’s calling your phone right now.

part 1/2

inspired by ‘tis the damn season

everything you learned about katsuki while he was away was against your will.

following in all might’s footsteps, and right after one messy, icy breakup, katsuki left to do hero work in the united states. if you wanted to know who he was hanging with, what girls he was supposedly kissing, or who he was replacing you with, you could have asked. seeing his life in footnotes, on instagram stories and through headlines was the kind of cold that fogged up windshield glass.

theres a lingering ache in your heart, put there by the ache in katsuki’s.

your breakup felt inevitable, more than anything. circumstances, timing, stress… one second, he’s loving you. the next, he’s telling you he needs to think things through. and right after that, he’s on a plane to los angeles with kirishima.

it was almost nice, not having to see him at the agency or anywhere else. you wouldn’t be tempted to call his phone, since the international bill would only break your heart more. you couldn’t go to his apartment because it’d be empty- if you’re not counting the phantoms of lost love.

the 2 weeks he was gone felt like an eternity on your end. you blamed the time zones, though you knew they weren’t capable of freezing time and making your heart ache more each minute.

and with the first snowfall of the season, katsuki bakugou lands back in his home country.

he thanks the attendants in his private jet, shoving his already warm hand into his pockets as he steps out into the brisk air. its colder than he remembered, as if the world felt the same loneliness he was experiencing.

its 10pm, and the snow is glistening against the moonlight like a mirrorball. the sky is blanketed by clouds, a pink hue washing over katsuki as he steps out of the airport and into the night.

he stares at his contacts for a second. he intends on calling an uber.

but either his thumb slipped, or he missed you too much to care about the cold pricking his fingertips. each could be true.

you’re in the process of turning up your heater when your phone lights up through the dark. fingers peeking out the sleeve of your sweater grasp the device, nearly dropping it to the floor when you see who’s trying to reach you.

as if on instinct, your thumb hovers over the green button, before ultimately letting it go to voice mail.

after a hot shower to drown out the chill, you find him calling again. this time, you sit on the edge of your bed, finally resigning to pick up.

you don’t say anything first, wanting to hear him first. maybe you had to make sure this wasn’t some twisted dream.

“…hey babe.” katsuki says, his gruff voice lingering with a soreness in his throat that can only come from prolonged exposure to the cold. that, paired witb the familiar nickname despite the circumstances, makes you clutch your phone.

“hey, kats.” you say, shifting on your bed to get comfortable. after all, any emotional night with katsuki bakugo was destined to be long.

“when did you land?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. you hope he doesn’t hear the trepidation in your voice.

“an hour ago.” he says, stifling a sniffle like a child would. you almost laugh, knowing him too well. he wasn’t the kind of guy you could forget easily.

“i just needed to hear your voice.” he admits, more to himself than to you. crimson eyes watch the way the snowflakes fall to the ground, dancing around in the wind. he remembers how much you love snowflakes. how you’d always try to catch them on your tongue, and how stupid he thought it was. the things he’d give to go back to that.

the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice makes your eyes water. it was something about the cold that brought out the aches in people. like holidays that linger like bad perfume, you both could run from the hurt before getting lost in the snow. you escaped into your warm apartment, away from the world, while katsuki escaped into crowds of adoring fans away from home.

whats funny is that both of you remember how the other left.

the cold air pricks at katsuki’s fingers while he waits for a response. he almost thinks the connections gone out, when in truth, your holding back tears.

with a shaky sigh, you speak. “lets… call it even, then.” you whisper, but he’s captivated by your words like a firework show. “i wanted to hear you, too.”

the breath of relief katsuki lets out can be seen in the cold, night air.

there was about 100 thrown out letters you wished you could send him. you could vomit words onto paper, send them out into the winter air and let the wind deliver your confessions to him.

and honestly, he wants you to. more than anything, he wants to sleep in with you, pull the blankets over that shield you from the cold just for old time sake. and if you don’t want him to stay this time, then he won’t ask you to wait.

if this doesn’t work out, he’ll go back to LA. he’ll let his so called fans write books and stories about him, about his heroism and his nobility without knowing how much his heart hurts on the inside. they’ll wonder about the only soul who knows what that hurt feels like. the only soul who knows all the smiles he’s faking: you.

he hopes that he only breaks his own heart, wanting to spare you from it. if he could, he’d leave you the warmest bed you’ve ever known. he’d call you babe for the weekend, and love you warm against the winter chill.

if somewhere, in his heart, katsuki’s love for you despite the breakup remained the same, then it was the same for you, too. if its okay with you, its okay with him. you could call it even. you’re missing his smile, and you want him to hear you out.

you might have to, with what he’s about to say next.

“…i’m outside, babe.”

part 2 soon 🫧

[oukabarsburgblr]

drabble...hybrid au

where sousuke loves pulling on ur tail, tugging on the bone whenever you were within his vicinity or you wandered a bit too astray from your path of walking with him, in cramped places, he's made sure he had his hold on you although you'd complain how often he would grasp on your hand, his second best choice was your tail as you helplessly let him lead you around like a dog on a collar.

same thing applies in bed where he tugs you back into his cock when you began mewling and crawling away from bed because you said he was too rough, too passionate delving into your taste, lapping up your slick and slurping onto your sensitive nips, his favourite would be when he had you on your knees and he'd pull it back, watching your ass slap onto his crotch, your hole swallowing his dick with your cum coatig his base, dripping onto his thighs, his face was full of delight.

he'd pull it too when you're mad at him about something he did, just to get a bit of your attention whenever you'd give him the cold shoulder because your ass immediately perks and you'd get mad at him again for his wandering hand but all was a skit just so you would talk to him again and he can console you in anyways he can.

if your tail was long enough, he'd beg you to wrap it around his neck, letting him bury his face into the plush of your fur, inhaling your musk, your scent as he fucks you into your makeshift nest during your mating season, he wouldn't let any other human or hybrid near you, just him and his dick would be enough to stuff your hole full of cum.

daisuke wouldn't pull on your tail, he heard a myth of how animals might shit themselves if it was tugged too hard, he loved your ears though, the animal ones that act as an additional receiver to your human ears, it would twitched whenever something would brush past it while you were out of focus, a fallen snowflake, the branch of a tree or maybe even his teasing fingers sometimes he would poke into the sensitive furs, catching your attention.

he'd be more mean during sex though seeing those twitching organs, sitting casually at the head of the bed watching you ride his cock like a gamer with his joystick and he'd pull your ears back, watching you bend instinctively as you creamed around his cock, your hole squeezing around him while your own penis spurted ropes and ropes of semen onto the wrinkled sheets.

but he cares for your sensitive fluffy ears, looking up how to groom, buying expensive products for hybrids, he would be the one applying it on you, treating you like a king as he gently and affectionately brush the tips, pressing lightly along your fur with the rows of the brush, rubbing oils or moisturizer into the canal of your ears, he would consider it the top two of his favourite body part.

the number one would definitely be your mouth, he was a foreplay guy, spending hours sucking on your tongue before letting you paw and pull at his jeans, so many toys were under his bed, one of it was supposed to be for your ass but he saved it for your ears instead, a silicone clip on your ear and there was a vibrating bead humming on the shell of your ear, you didn't even know you had a kink like that, it was daisuke's, to see you go crazy on his cock while your head was spinning and spazzing out from the stimulation on your ears.

[END SCENE]

This was supposed to be short but i always take it too far. I love edging you guys💜

If sou and dai had to be an animal, sousuke would definitely be a black cat and daisuke would be a golden retriever

Taglist :

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo

[fabled-fiction]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺️ Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him. 

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?” 

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?” 

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw. 

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards. 

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

-

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety. 

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…” 

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

[ladymercysletters]

NSFW Alphabet - Cregan Stark

Word Count: 2,864

A/N: I have no words, other than I now have many thoughts about sex on furs. NSFW 18+ only!

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

As much as he seemed like a solid silent brute when you first met him, upon your marriage bed Cregan was soft with you. Easing you through your maidenhead and doting on you afterwards. He removed the stained sheets from beneath you with ease before returning with wine for you. He cares for you the same every time you finish. Soft touches and demands to the maids that they bring in wine and some food after, tucking you up into the furs from the end of your bed and drifting off to sleep with you.

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

Cregan often trained with his shirt off. Partly to harden his body to the cold of the north, but also to intimidate his opponents. When he notices you watching him train from one of the wooden walkways he can’t help but put on a show. Roaring as his sword comes down on the shield, splintering it in two; he makes sure to roll his shoulders when his back is turned from you, flexing the muscles that show there. He is most proud of his strength and he loves that you watch him, satisfied that he can protect you from anything and anyone.

When it comes to your body he is in love with every part of it. Your soft hair that catches the snowflakes when they fall, to your cheeks that glow with warmth when you’re huddled up to the fire in the great hall. But he’s most enamoured with your legs. He loves how strong they are from horse riding. It’s the hidden aspect as well; he knows they’re there under all those layers and folds of your dresses. He enjoys helping you out of your clothes in the evening, trailing a hand slowly up your legs, feeling how they grow warmer as they get to your centre. And then the lovely treat between them, only for him to enjoy, hidden.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) - Winter is coming and so is he!

Cregan loves to cum inside you. This is well documented (thank you to every fanfic writer here!) There has barely been a time where Cregan has wasted a drop outside of your body. His favourite place is where he can breed you; the thought of his seed filling you completely and seeing you all round and lovely with his child sends a jolt of something through his spine every time he thinks of it. He loves to see you splayed out for him, your white shift not even fully removed in the haste of your love making, watching from above as your breasts move in time with his thrusts, your face flushing and soft moans pushing from your lips has him doubling over you to make sure he doesn’t spill a drop.

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

Cregan doesn’t really have any dirty secrets. There’s nothing he hides from you and to be honest, nothing he particularly finds shameful enough to keep a secret. There is nothing shameful in loving ones wife isn’t there? That being said, a blush forms just at the tops of Cregans cheekbones when he thinks of how his hips stutter and the groans roll from his tongue when you rake your nails down his back. That little spot right at the base of his spine, just as the skin of his buttocks gets a bit more sensitive. Right there, if your nails trail down to that spot his hips will stutter and twitch between your thighs.

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

Cregan has a bit of experience before your marriage, but not as much as most men perhaps. He first lay with a woman when he visited an elder cousin south of Winterfell who took him to their silk streets; and he’s had his share of women when away in battle. Those women always seemed to know where there were plenty of men, and when you think you may die there’s no harm in going out with a bang.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press. Face down ass up. Any way he can bend you and bed you he will. He especially loves these two positions as he can get so deep inside you; flipping you over or propping your ankles over his broad shoulders, both are excellent ways to view his wife in his eyes. If he had to choose, mating press would be his favourite. He once got caught up in the heat of the moment and had to steady himself as he thrust into you. It just so happens that he steadied himself by placing his hand on your abdomen. The shock of feeling the movement of his thick cock inside you sent a bolt straight down his spine. He didn’t last long after that.

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

Despite Cregan’s initial intentions in looking for a wife, you married for love. He had never met a woman as witty as you. With every sly jab from one of his men at your being from the south, you batted back with a comment of your own – leaving many stumped in response. Cregan loved your sharp tongue and teasing grin as you bounded past him on your horse. When you were wed this did not stop. Your laughter translated to more heated moments, when he has you pressed against a wall and you would tease him for being so eager for you; or when you shared the warm springs and giggled together at the thought of someone finding you in a compromising position.

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

He’s a hairy man. But not hairy like a bear, hairy like a wolf – an inverted triangle covering his chest, with a long dark trail leading directly over his navel and into his breeches. His back isn’t hairy at all, much to your surprise, but his forearms and legs display a similar coating of dark brown hair.

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

Cregan can be incredibly romantic. His lack of any close family and betrayal by some has left him without really love or intimacy for most of his life. But despite this, he isn’t a cold man. Many a night has been spent sprawled out on thick furs in front of one of the great fires; Cregans body covering yours as he makes love to you. He holds you tenderly afterwards, looking down on your peaceful face he draws a strand of hair away from your face, turning it in his fingers – amazed by the softness. He’s amazed by the softness of all of you. Amazed that you’re his.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s got himself off more times than he’s ever prepared to count, lonely nights in the castle or on the road necessitating this. When you wed this wasn’t something he thought he would need to think much of anymore. But during one feast, when you’d both had your fair share of wine, your hand had wandered to his breeches. First a hand on his knee, then higher. Then, just as he took a swig from his cup, over the thin material of his best trousers. Your small hand wriggled inside his trousers gripping him tightly. Cregan looked over at you and thought of how casual you looked, not a mark on your face would suggest where your hand was at that moment. Even as you carried a small conversation with a maid clearing some plates and replacing your wine, your hand continued its smooth movements up and down his growing cock.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BREEDING KINK! BREEDING KINK!

Once the immediate delight in coupling with you has faded the first thing on his mind when sharing abed with you was what your children would look like. How good of a mother you would be and how you would look cradling his babe. How you would look growing his babe – all round and waddling through the halls. Curled up in the furs that lay over your bed. He’d make sure to hunt the finest fur he could for your first born, make sure you’d both be safe and warm. As soon as he got that thought into his head it was the only thing on his mind every time you fucked. He’d whisper the filthiest things in your ear about how good you’d look swollen with his child – evidence of you were his, his love.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Hi favourite place to have you will always be his bed, your shared bed. He loves that you always sleep together – and everyone knows you do. It’s ones of the worst kept secrets in Winterfell that the lord and lady haven’t used their separate bedrooms since they wed. And if Cregan gets his way, you never will.

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

He can keep quite a good lid on his urges in general. He knows his duty and he never shirks from it; but when you glide past him in the hall to get to your ladies in waiting, when he’s got his mean around him discussing the days business, his eyes flicker up and over to you – and he can see how the bodice of your dress is just a bit tighter than usual, or you’re wearing a lighter fabric over your arms that is practically sheer. Little things like that, that show just a touch more flesh or expose the delicate softness of your neck. Those things just remind him how only he has seen you bare, and it makes him want it again.

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

He’s seen some things in brothels he’d rather not have seen. Some men using bodily fluids Cregan would never think erotic and doing things to women that made his stomach turn. He hated even thinking about those things, especially when he was with you.

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

He would live between your thighs if you would let him. We’ve discussed that he is a thigh man but by the gods; having both of your legs over his shoulders, stroking up and down the fat of your thighs as he buries his face in your cunt. He’s so skilled with his tongue. As much as you may expect him to be rough and a bit clumsy, he isn’t with his face. He nudges you open with his nose first before starting off with gentle licks into your core. If/ when he does use his fingers it only when he’s got you absolutely soaking wet and he can feel the tremor in your thighs.

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

It very much depends on how you’re both feeling. Sometimes he needs to take you slow and soft; tracing his rough fingers over your soft exposed skin and kiss every inch of you. Other times, especially when you’re ovulating and decide to go and watch him train, the two of you barely make it somewhere alone before he’s got you in the air and inside you.

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

He’s not a huge fan of quickies. For one, he doesn’t like having to perform under pressure – not that he can’t! He just likes to savour you. Even if you’re both so desperate for each other and clothes off you both still want to take as long as you like; knowing you can tease each other until you can’t take it anymore or have each other again and again if you wish. The possibilities are endless with enough time.

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

He’s down for most things but I don’t think he’s one to experiment off his own back. He’s more of a tried and tested kind of guy; if he knows something gets you off he’ll do it over and over. You need to be the one to take risks and suggest new things to try.

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

The man is a beast, and his stamina is that of a hunting wolf. Some nights he can go three rounds, with breaks in between, each one making him more ravenous for you. Even if he just can’t go another round he still loves making you cum, just once more. Kissing up your leg before laying lazily between them as he eats you out so slowly; building your pleasure until you break like a dam one final time.

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

He’s not really one for toys; he’d much rather use his own body to pleasure you. That being said he’s not opposed to tying you up. He loves to watch you squirm for him. Maybe once you’re both comfortable enough and Cregan has had time to think about different ways to take you, he uses one of the ties to blindfold you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t particularly get off on it himself; though if you’re into it and he can see how much you’re loving it, of course he’s going to tease the hell out of you until he can get you to cum again and again. He’ll tie you up to stop you touching yourself or reaching out for him and trail a gloved hand over your soft stomach. The leather cool and rough against your warm skin. Cregan loves to watch your muscles twitch and goosebumps raise on your flesh. He loves to go slow when he teases you; the way you get impatient and start begging for him makes him feral.

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

Cregan isn’t that loud, he’s more of a grunter. He’s a stern rough man and he doesn’t particularly want others to hear him or know what you’re getting up to. But the deep grunts and groans that slip past his lips, getting muffled by your shoulder as he doubles over you, vibrate right through to your very core.

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

At your wedding he put his cloak on you, bringing you under his protection and into his family. As a symbol of your marriage and in honour of the fact that your children will carry on his line, he loves to fuck you on his cloak. He lays it out on the bed and throws your naked body onto it – both of you giggling as you know what’s coming next. Its not just about carrying on your line though, it’s the memory of having you laid out for him on there when he wears it outside. Others seeing his cloaked figure as a terrifying symbol of the power and strength of the North; but Cregan also knows that he’s had you screaming his name again and again on it, soaking your scent into the fabric of it. If he risks it he’ll sometime draw his nose closer to the inside of it and inhale deeply.

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

Cregan is completely in proportion to the rest of his body. His girth always surprises you and, if you’re not prepared, still stings a little. And he’s a good 7 ½ inches, if not more. He can get so nice and deep inside of you; he stretches you out gently at first, making sure you can take him before he pushes into you. If he’s in the right position you can almost feel him at your cervix; he loves to get you into positions where he can feel himself through your stomach, knowing he’s so deep inside you and can breed you so easily.

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

He’s very good at controlling himself. His appetite isn’t insatiable – he has duties and responsibilities, and as much as you distract him, he is perfectly capable of holding off. That being said, if you tease him too much; the neckline of your dress lowered to distraction or some particularly lingering touches and soft words, expect a long night later on.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He has the entire weight of Winterfell on his shoulders. As much as he loves to lay and talk with you after a long day, more often than not he falls asleep very quickly. You were talking to him one evening about a letter sent from your cousin in the Riverlands, only to hear soft snores from behind you.

[yandere-wishes]

༄｡° Ice on Ice ༄｡°

𐙚 Yandere!Capitano Drabble

𐙚 Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, gore, manipulation

𝄞 Song: Kill V. Maim by Grimes

⋆˙❅ He's molded you into his perfect darling. His perfect weapon ❅⋆˙

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚‧͙̩̩͙

It's always snowing in Snezhnaya .

Even in the dead of summer.

Capintano glides across the castle like a shadow. Shying away from the moonlight gleaming through the towering windows.

Ice slithers up his arm, forging into the hilt of his glacial sword.

He can smell your bloodlust in the air, good, you've already commenced the integration.

The lower levels of Zapolyarny castle speak only of terrors.

It's where the faithless come to die.

Traitors to Her Majesty.

It was where he'd kept you upon your initiation, where he burned you down and fabricated you anew.

His pretty little deadly thing.

So eager to please.

So loyal

The salty tang of blood permeating the air has his heart racing, furious war drum hammering in his chest. He follows the embers of your rage, standing by the threshold watching as you dig your knife deeper into the traitor's shoulder. Capitano basks in your raw fury. Your anger sweet on his tongue.

"Darling"

His voice is low, a whisper among the screams. Snowflake on ice and yet you still jump to attention. Run up to him with a sweet smile that doesn't quite suit the crimson specks adorning your cheeks.

His eyes glide across your taut body, spine straight, fingers up in salute. Your pyro delusion glowing gently at your waist. Ready to engrave his commands upon your bones.

"Master, the prisoner has confessed to carrying out treason against the crown. But he's yet to disclose the whereabouts of his fellow rebels."

"He will."

Capitano hands you his coat, relishing the delicate way you clench the heavy thing. Cradling it in your chest as if it's more precious than all the constatations above Tyvat. He pulls his helmet up, ever so slightly, enough to press his frigid lips against your cheek and lick the specks of blood. You freeze, fingers grasping the fuzzy pelt.

"Come watch, my darling"

He stalks towards the bloodied man, twirling his sword, letting the tiny ice splinters impale the traitor at random. The man cries, voice hoarse and weak. The slim glaciers replacing blood with frost.

You trail after him, lovesick and devotion in every step, his coat hanging from your shoulders.

Heavy burden upon frail shoulders, such a perplexing thing you are...

Capitano can't help but smile in satisfaction. He's molded you into perfection, sculpted you from the purest ice. He studies your work rigorously. Pain painted across the vile canvas. The traitor's right eye is missing, the socket scorched, torrid flesh pealing from his arms. His shirt ripped, rude stab wounds still fresh, still dripping ruby.

He's trained you well.

Trained you to make nation topple and archons bow. To bend the stars and flames with your fealty.

Maim and kill.

Because this world is too cruel for righteous little boys and naive little girls.

Kill and maim or else it will be done to you.

You pull the informer's hair back as Capitano lands a metal-clad punch to his face, blood sprays unceremoniously, spoiling Capintao's black-silver armor, followed by the familiar clatter of a tooth hitting the thinly iced floor.

Capintano steps back, braces himself for a moment then thrusts his sword into the rebel's thigh. Marring the sturdy hoar a rotten red. Frost blisters skin ripping the soft tissue underneath.

Ice chips bone

Meat falls to the cold ground.

The man screams, crying out locations and names in jetted tongue. His eyes slowly grow darker.

The blood continues to pool.

You clap your hands cheerfully. Letting the man's head fall forward "Well done master."

For a fleeting second, as you skip towards your master, you catch the traitor's picture in the odd light. You gulp, the creature staring back wears your face, your body, your skin. You see yourself in the dead stranger. Stubborn face and blank eyes. You blink and it's gone, a trick of the dark, one you're too eager to forget. Those days have passed, left to decay in snow-covered tombs. You are someone else now, more importantly, you are Capitano's lover, his most devoted soldier. No longer a gullible thing chasing after empty ideals.

Capitano towers over you. A stone pillar etched of ivory paragons. His iron fingers wrap around your smaller wrist as he pulls you forward. Your fingers lace through his ebony main, while your other hand pulls up the helmet, desperate for his kiss. Biting his lips and letting the blood from his armor stain your uniform. He pushes pain and loyalty down your throat with metallic spiced kisses. Replaces the pearls of your spine with molten lava and brimstone. His touches are frostbite running rampant across your body. Peeling away skin and inscribing mortality and ethereal strength into the soft tissue of your organs. Leaving your lungs corked with icy doctrines.

He has sculpted his style of blade work into your blood. Your veins pump explosions through your body.

Capitano's lips trace the expansion of your neck, savoring your essence between harsh kisses and harsher lovebites. You feel like a sword in his hands, meticulously forged with the finest steel. He has killed many apostates with you. Used you to serve the Tsaritsa without fail

Weapon of war, built from the corpse of a little lost girl.

The frenzy in your eyes, the cosmic thumb of your heart, the way your fingers claw, and the silver of skin of his neck.

Deadly deadly deadly.

He plays the role of the virtuous knight.

Only he's come to learn that many mistake virtue for pacifism.

No.

Love and loyalty are delicate threads entwined with massacre and pain.

You must kill to protect loyalty.

You must kill to protect love.

And how better to express both than in love letters penned with fresh scarlet and decay?

"Get rid of the body, we have much work to do." He raises his sword up to the thin ray of moonlight. For a second your reflection flashes across his icy sword, broken and damaged and perfect in every way. He gives you a final kiss on your templet. Before retrieving his coat and turning away. Disappearing in the dark.

You sigh, breath observable in the chill. Your fingers ignite, warmer and warmer. Preparing for another cremation.

Capitano smiles, ridged, grotesque. As a putrid sickly saccharine scent wafts through the castle's dungeon.

He's raised the perfect lover.

Devoted to a fault and stronger than any weapon.

He's looking forward to unleashing you upon the rebel's nest.

Looking forward to the dance of savage carnage.

It's summertime in Snezhnaya 

Although you couldn't tell from the snowy blizzard outside...

When is Varka coming out? I want to be caged between the two of them so badly 😭😭

Also, guys, what if Capintano is Rustam or Arundolyn?? 🤔 I feel like I'm onto something

°🪼° @choueries @animelover6000 @viannasthings

[cregansdingdong]

ɢɪᴠᴇ.

Cregan Stark x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, cregan likes to eat out pretty princesses

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

"Gods—don't stop!" She mewls, gripping the tapestry behind her head like it was her only lifeline. It was. "Don't you ever stop!" His hand against her stomach keeps her pinned to the wall of her chambers, his head buried somewhere pleasant beneath her nightgown. Her thigh was hitched obediently over his shoulder, trembling by the motions of his eager tongue. It was always like this. Sloppy, carnal, desperate—fueled by a lustful guilt as she broke her illusion of maidenhood again and again. Cregan didn't care much for the pretending of his favorite Princess, so long as he was the only man she broke it for. He grunts wordlessly in response, his mouth unyielding in his assault on her nearly throbbing bud, more of her sweet nectar leaking just for him. Just for him. If she wasn't so close to the edge already, he'd probably give her a good slap on the thigh for that desperate demand, but the Warden of the North was feeling particularly generous.

"Come on." He murmurs, gray eyes flicking up at her face as her pretty pearl was locked dutifully between his plush lips. "Give." The vibrations of his rasp—which had sounded less like a soft urging and more like a beg—sent fire up into her stomach, but it was cold all the while, like snowflakes falling onto a lit hearth, both dousing at her and cracking the flames hotter. His mouth was ruthless, free hand digging into the softness of her hip as he waited for what he really wanted. Her own fingers burrow themselves into his dark tresses by his nape, trying not to pull despite how she was already teetering. "Almost!" She gasps, more of a plea than anything else. Her stomach was tightening under his grip, clenching and releasing as she tried and failed to catch her breath. Cregan's presence was an imposing one even on his knees in front of her, head ducked under her lilac nightgown, the hem bunched up over his crown—it was a sinful sight to witness.

A man starved, Cregan's tongue dips inside of her, eyes fluttering closed as he fucked up into her entrance. The bridge of his nose was equally as merciless, pressing against her bud back and forth like a prayer. He was groaning the more she leaked, all the while incomprehensible mewls of what he could assume were appreciative in nature flooded past her lips as she came for him. The thigh over his shoulder was tense, heel digging into his back—his name became a worship. It only worsened as the sounds of indecorous slurping reverberated off the stone walls of her chambers. The Wolf of Winterfell was a greedy one. Even as the bliss came and left behind a lull of peace, he was still there on his knees to lick her clean.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[memepocalypse]

Winter Warmer

It's officially chilly season!

"Ooh, it's cold out here."

"Look! Look! I'm a dragon!"

"Did it snow last night?!"

"There's frost on the ground."

"That's the last leaf falling..."

"I've got shivers."

"I want a hot chocolate."

"Yes, I'm wearing two coats."

"Why aren't you wearing a coat? You'll freeze!"

"Can you get the fire going?"

"What do you mean the chimney's blocked?"

"I'm going to bake cookies."

"I'm shifting in to soup mode."

"I knitted you a scarf!"

"It's not a hot chocolate without a dash of brandy."

"Want to cuddle up under a blanket and watch a movie?"

"Yes, I'm playing Christmas music. I know it's Novemeber. I don't care."

"I'm freezing my fingers off!"

"Here, take my coat."

"I have a flask full of soup here."

"Hold my hand, I'll warm you up."

"I can't take your clothes!"

"Don't worry, I run warm."

"This makes me want to go skiing."

"I'm going to catch a snowflake on my tongue."

"Do you want to go make snow angels?"

"I love this time of night... before anyone disturbs the snow."

"It's so crisp and white out there."

"Let's go make a snowman!"

"I hate being cold."

[is-the-sky-blue]

DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS (PT 1): GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU

Synopsis: When you have questions about physical intimacy Satoru and Suguru are quick to answer them.

Warnings: 18+, satosugu x fem!reader, lots of kissing, praise, teasing

>Part 1< Part 2 Part 3

The subject of physical intimacy never really felt like a taboo topic for you, especially when you were only discussing it with your two close friends and you were swimming in unanswered questions.

The very first time you brought it up was in elementary school when you watched Suguru's mother plant a peck onto his father's cheek. It was a strange sight for your young mind to comprehend as you sat on the floor squished between the two boys, backs leaning against the Geto family's pristine couch that your trio never really used, your fingers toying with tufts of the rug as Digimon played on the television.

"What was that?" you questioned with a tilt of you head, wide eyes parting as the scene dispersed, training your focus on the kid of the two lovers.

"A kiss?" he said confused, unsure on what your question was trying ask, "doesn't your mama do that for your papa too," he raised his brow, pudgy fingers plopping a gold fish cracker into his mouth as you shook your head.

"My mama only kisses my forehead," you tap the space above your brows, "I thought your mama and papa are only supposed to kiss you, not each other," and Suguru stares at you quizzically.

"My mama and papa kiss all the time though," he states before turning to Satoru, "do your parents kiss," he asks, waving his hands in front of the young Gojo's face to pry his blue eyes from the tv.

"What!" he exclaims, glaring at the boy on your other side, not catching the question Suguru threw at him before rudely interrupting his Digimon time.

"Do your mama and papa kiss?" you queried this time, watching as his eyebrows raised.

"Not in front of me but sometimes, yeah," he says, biting the head off a red sour path kid.

"Does that mean my mama and papa are kissing in secret," you wondered, the image of your non affectionate parents pressing kisses to each other's forehead out of view from your eyes seeming like a strange secret to keep from you, especially when they argue with each other in front of you all the time.

"Probably," Suguru nods and the three of you brush past it.

The second time you ask about kissing is in your first year of junior high, coddled in blankets as your head rested on Satoru's shoulder as he munched on the popcorn in a bowl he held in his lap, Suguru on his opposite side. The heater rumbled in the corner as snowflakes fell from the night sky. The three of you sat peacefully on the couch, finally transitioning to sitting on the plush cushions of Suguru's sofa as you watched a cheesy Christmas rom-com movie.

"Doesn't that feel funny," you pipe up, watching as the main characters fell into each other's embrace, lips slipping against one another, and you finally realized why this sappy holiday movie was rated PG-13, as between their pressed lips you could see peeks of their tongue pushing into each other's mouths, holding their bodies close to one another as the camera panned around, showing different views of their searing and long awaited kiss that their impalpable chemistry yearned for.

"Funny?" Suguru mumbles, "why would it feel funny."

"They are putting their tongues in each other's mouth," you state bluntly, watching as their lips part as they pant only for the romantic music to persist as they leaned in once more, "wouldn't that feel... slimy?"

"Maybe," Satoru chimes, highly uninterested in the film you insisted on watching in the name of festivity, claiming it had to be good after seeing so many trailers and teasers for the film, "they are swapping spit"

 "It sounds gross when you say it that way," Suguru gagged, the scene in front of him now making him cringe.

"But it's the truth," Satoru huffs loading his mouth with butter covered kernels as you nodded your head.

"Then why do they do it if it feels weird," you furrow your brows.

"It must feel nice or something," Satoru concludes as though it was obvious, "love interests always talk about how their heart skips a beat whenever kissing is mentioned, but I feel like they might just be sick."

"It's supposed to be romantic," Suguru scrunched his nose and you had to admit the borderline make out scene on the television did seem pretty loving.

"Is feeling funny romantic," you question, confused.

"Well they say that you feel butterflies in your stomach when you like someone," the dark haired boy states, recalling the cliche line that seemed to satisfy your curiosities.

But that was until Satoru asked, "You wanna try it."

HUH!!!!

To say you were shocked would be an understatement with the way you physically flinched at the question. Try it, try kissing, kissing who, kissing them? You could feel yourself grow slightly warmer but as Suguru merely shrugged with a simple "sure," that appeared nonchalant but the blush on his face betrayed him, your mind caught up with your body which you found was already nodding.

Kissing, you were going to kiss them, your first kiss would be with one of them, but with who? It appeared the two boys also had the same internal monologue as Satoru hummed with furrowed brows, "should we just play rock paper scissors," he questioned, "and whoever is holding the same sign kiss first." Your first kiss would be decided by a game of rock paper scissors... you had to admit that this was pretty on brand for your trio.

Soon enough all three of your fists were shaking as the murmured, "rock paper scissors," was said until three sets of scissors appeared on each of your fingers, "again?" Satoru asked but you merely shook your head with a coy little grin.

"The fates have already spoken," you teased, "we all have to kiss."

"How?" Satoru mumbled watching as suddenly the gears began to turn in Suguru's head as his foot reached out to grab the coffee table and pulled it closer to the couch.

"Sit," he merely commanded, eyes on you as he gestured towards the structure and you quickly oblige, finding yourself eager to be apart of his newly formed plan as you peeled yourself from the bundle of blankets, shivering slightly at the feeling of the cool material seeping into the pant legs of your fuzzy pajamas, staring at the two boys who now sat in front of you.

"What now," you ask, staring at Suguru as he merely shook his head.

"I'm not really sure," he grinned bashfully, "but if we all lean it should work." 

"What a plan," Satoru scoffed, earning a light punch to the shoulder.

"What else should we do," Suguru retorted, "if we share each others first kiss then there is less stress," the dark haired boy grumbled, "it's hard to decide who I would want to kiss first," it was said quietly, barely above a whisper but you caught it, a gentle smile crossing your lips as you pressed a hand to his knee.

"We can just try," you mused, "it's just the three of us anyways, no ones gonna tell." 

"Guess so," Satoru huffed "am I supposed to count down or somethi-" but he cut himself off, watching the way you began to lean forward and quickly he followed suit.

It was strange to say the least, two pairs of lips on your own as the three of you kissed, a little triangle of mouths. Your eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the feeling, slightly scared what you'd see if you opened them. The kiss was short, quick, and kind of weird but the warming of your cheeks explained how oddly nice it felt as you pulled away.

You felt suddenly breathless as you pulled your hands into fists, staring wide eyed at the bright blushing boys in front of you.

You had just kissed them.

You had given your first kiss to Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

You might be the only person to say that, say your first kiss was given to not only one person but two. The strange pride you felt in your chest was oddly satisfying.

"What now," Satoru was the first to break the silence and you couldn't keep yourself from staring at his lips as he spoke, mesmerized.

"You two kiss first," you mumble out, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him and you could feel the anticipation in your gut grow as they stared at each other with flushed faces.

"Us two," Suguru murmured, entranced by his friend's eyes before turning to you, "why?"

"I want to watch," you admit shamelessly, adjusting your position as you sat comfortably on the table, enjoying the sight of the two boys on the couch who grew warm at your confident words, but the way Suguru slid his hand to cup Satoru's cheeks had you growing warm.

His finger brushed over his pink skin, holding his head in both his hands, keeping him still as they stared at each other intently and you could see Satoru's adam's apple bob ever so slightly as Suguru took the initiative, head moving closer before their lips melded, and your eyes refused to blink, scared to miss a single second as you watched your best friends kiss each other gently.

It lasted a couple seconds and you drank up every second, their lips didn't move like in the film, tongues didn't dance and part of you wanted to speak up about it, mention how they were doing it incorrectly, but you couldn't, it didn't feel right to comment as you watched the way their chest heaved as they panted into each other's mouth as they pulled away.

Instead you merely queried, "did it feel good," and Suguru turned his hooded eyes to you, hand carefully making it's way to your face and you found anticipation begin to grow.

"Why don't you see for yourself."

Quickly you fell into him, eyes shutting as you let him kiss you and you could feel yourself understanding why they couldn't bring themselves to press their tongues inside like the actors had done in the movie, the rush of adrenaline and pure excitement his lips elicited had you clenching your fists as you leaned against him, you felt like a ball of nerves, scared to mess up but the small area where the two of you connected slowly began to soothe you.

God was your face hot.

You pulled away breathless, closed eyes opening to Suguru's smug smile as he tossed your question back at you, "did it feel good," and you felt a strange warmth in your belly as your post-kissed lips pursed.

"mhm," was all you could hum, tongue suddenly feeling numb in your mouth, you don't think you were going to kiss like the movie tonight but that didn't elicit any kind of disappointment, not when Satoru perked in his spot.

"My turn," was all he said before he began to lean in, hands tracing the spots where Suguru once placed his warm palms, his long fingers extending further that his counterpart as his somehow cold hands held you, pretty pink lips finding their way to yours as he quickly captured you.

For some reason you believed that kissing would always feel the same, sure there were different types of kisses but you thought that kissing Suguru would feel the same as kissing Satoru but quickly you were proven wrong, even if it was through a little closed mouth connection.

Suguru was light, lips pressing yours tenderly and with this all consuming warmth as his hot palms held your head lightly, holding you close whereas Satoru was a little bit rougher, lips pressing hard into yours as though he was trying to devour you, his slightly cold palms cupping your face gently but firmly as he pulled you into him.

They were each other's antithesis and yet despite their contrasting polarities you were undoubtedly attracted to both, finding yourself melting into both kisses with earnest as you found yourself just as breathless as Satoru pulled away, his fingers pinching the fat of your cheek one last time before letting them fall to his sides.

You felt like you were on a whole other plane of existence as your lungs tried to find air, your eyes finding pretty little grins that made you splay one on your own kiss fried lips.

Over the years the three of you had shared many secrets, from Satoru confessing to the two of you that it was indeed him that had broken the principal's window with a baseball, to Suguru confiding that he had practically run away from a girl who tried to give him a love letter.

Now the three of you had shared yet another secret, but this one was far from the rest, settling in it's own little category, hiding from prying eyes, it's content much more intimate than the others.

A dirty little secret had begun to fester and the three of you nurtured it with care.

The moment had marked the very first point in time in which you grew much more intimate.

Farewells were no longer only paired with hugs but kisses to the cheek or forehead as well. Cuddles on the couch oftentimes included a kiss to the lips. Innocent touches began to grow much more common as the three of you found yourself locked in Suguru's room, lips touching lips in the space, as unlike your home, in the Geto household the open door policy was not in effect.

So behind closed doors the three of you stole not only each other's first kiss, but your second, third, fourth, and many more after that.

It was in your second year of junior high when your kisses were born from less desire and more fun, a general domestic love beginning to blossom and snickers parted past your lips.

"Orange!"

"Strawberry."

They threw out their guesses, licking off the gloss coating their mouths. "Strawberry," you nod and Suguru pumped his fists as Satoru slumped.

"How is that strawberry," he fumed, leaning in for yet another taste of your chapstick covered lips only to grumble in annoyance, "Suguru what kind of lip glosses are you buying," he huffs, "they don't even taste right," and Suguru shrugged his shoulders, indulging in your taste once again before sighing.

"First of all these are chapsticks," the boy corrected, "second of all don't blame me because your tastebuds are all messed up." 

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

Currently they were in a battle to see who could guess the most flavours correct after Suguru had given you a multi pack of chapsticks at the store his uncle ran, getting them for free after stocking a couple shelves, determined to place them in your care after an offhand comment you made about your lips being dry.

"Did you taste the flavours before giving them to her like some weirdo pervert," Satoru accused as you wiped off the previous flavour, secretly spreading a different balm over your lips, "are you into licking chapsticks and then giving them to girls!"

"You were there when she opened the package."

"You could've resealed it."

"Stop being a sore loser," Suguru complained before training his attention on you, watching as you laugh in jest, clearly enjoying their banter before stealing your focus, your eyes instinctively falling closed as he cupped your face, thumb trailing over the apple of your cheek as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, your shoulders decompressing as you eagerly melted into him before he was rudely pulled off.

"Stop hogging her, you are going to lick off the taste," Satoru is quick to state before leaning in, capturing your lips before you could even open your eyes again. You can hear a thwack as Suguru smacks the boys back, the jolt lightly jostling your own head.

"I'm not licking off anything," he grumbles, rolling his eyes as the snowy haired boy finally reeled himself away, or rather you pushed him off, hand coming up to his mouth to keep him from going in again as you laughed, trying to catch your stolen breath as Satoru licked his lips.

"You have your guesses," you muse at the two boys, their heads nodding before you count down.

"Vanilla!"

"Vanilla."

You have to bite your lips to keep a giggle at bay, the way they look at each other is filled with so much irritation.

"You stole my answer!" Satoru claims with an accusatory finger.

"Why would I steal your answer if you've been wrong for the past five rounds!" and before you let their bickering continue, you cut them off.

"Well regardless you both are wrong," you confess, openly snickering at their widened eyes before reaching behind you to grab the container, flashing the label.

"Snowstorm..." Suguru trails off.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME," Satoru exclaims, brows shooting to his forehead before he's on you, tackling you onto Suguru's mattress, cupping the back of your head to make sure you don't hit the sheets too hard before he's sitting on your torso, staring down at you. "What the hell does a snowstorm taste like," he scrunches his face, faux anger directed towards you as though you were the one to manufacture the labels.

"Vanilla apparently," you laugh, his fingers merely gripping your shoulders tighter before kissing you once more, mumbling, 'snowstorm my ass,' as he tastes it again, or rather you again.

Until then the dirty little secret the three of you shared wasn't all that dirty, you merely pressed closed mouth kisses to each other's lips, tiny little pecks at best onto your faces in the confines of a bedroom, hands never trailing below the shoulders, never taking the time to explore the intricacies of each others bodies, tongues never taking the time to explore each other's mouths.

Well that was until the holidays rolled around once more, the three of your perched on Suguru's couch as junior high third years, the very same movie playing on the screen.

"Do you still think it feels funny," Satoru chimes smugly, elbowing your side as he sits in the middles, squished between you and Suguru much like a couple years prior as he held the bowl of popcorn in his hands.

"I dunno," you murmur, the scene that sparked the question that day playing on the television as the actor's slipped inside each other's mouths.

"What do you mean you don't know," he huffs, leaning his head on your shoulder as you focus on the screen.

"Well we only really give each other, pecks..." you try, "while they are french kissing," the terms felt quite foreign on your tongue, the only reason they were added to your dictionary because of a youtube video you watched. You weren't signed into your account so the generic algorithm, yet to be fed with your likes presented an array of miscellaneous content, one of which titled 'How to French Kiss' that caught your attention quickly, and despite your brain telling you it was stupid and weird thing to watch you still clicked on it, watching mesmerized as two people went through different types of kisses, ranging from the chaste kisses you were familiar with to ones full of tongue that you had only witnessed in films.

"Isn't french kissing the one where they kiss each other's cheeks," Satoru furrows his brows.

"That is French," Suguru notes, "but a french kiss is like the one they're doing," he gestures to the movie.

"It's the one where they shove their tongues in their mouths," you add and Satoru cringed much like how he did last year when you stated the same words and he sighs before collecting himself.

"You wanna try," and you could feel a strange sense of deja vu as the events began to play out once more. Suguru's foot grabbed the table and you found your seat, as instead of playing rock paper scissors this time you urged the two boy's to kiss first and they quickly obliged your request, never ones to ever really deny you. 

"You sure you don't wanna all touch tongues first," Satoru hums, teasingly eying you as Suguru carefully grasped his face, listening to your laugh before lips splayed onto his.

You stared intently as the scene unfolded similarly to years prior, and the longer you watched the more you realized that this was far too similar to years prior. Their tongues not dancing and instead of biting back your words you blurt them out, "you are supposed to use your tongue," you state and you can hear Suguru hum as he pulls away.

"I was getting there," he grumbles, eying your captivated figure before an all too smug smirk graced his lips that soon captured Satoru once more. You were glued to the scene, a muffled gasp playing into your ears as Suguru finally parted their sealed lips, mouths moving in tandem as between their newly angled heads, pretty peeks of pink tongues were spotted. You watched as though they were a film, two teenage boys holding each other tightly, Suguru's hands cupping Satoru's face gingerly while he threaded his fingers through dark locks, their faces illuminated by the tv screen behind you, painting reddened cheeks with a frosty blue glow as they moved their eager mouths.

They were an oil painting, a beauty that you felt unworthy to bare witness to as they displayed themselves to you, vulnerable and full of desire as they slid against one another, hands beginning to wander as Suguru slid from Satoru's warmed cheeks to his shoulders before planting on his hips, the hands threaded in his hair yanking and you licked your watering mouth, their eyes closed in bliss as hums of contentment rang through your ears, audio of the movie that once played ignored as the only music you wanted to listen to was them, the only art you wanted to consume was them.

It was delicate in the way the two finally pulled away, kiss bitten lips finally experiencing what it was to kiss, what it was to love, to pour yourself into a single part of yourself, to share that love with a partner despite the labels placed on one another being friends, they experienced a yearning for more and that yearning included you.

"Does it feel nice," you muse, the nostalgic words bringing Suguru's love drunk hooded eyes towards you, hair that was once neatly tied in a pretty black bun falling in rivulets as they framed his face.

"Do you run on a script or something," the boy mused, glittering at the familiar words as he reached for you.

"Just following tradition," you hum, "after all isn't that a large part of the holidays," you smile as he begins to lean closer.

"I don't really like traditions," he sighs, "but if those traditions include you two, I'll follow them until the day I die," and he shifted closer before murmuring, "why don't you see for yourself," to appease you and just like that he was on you, leaving you no time to laugh at the sappy words as he pressed himself into you, and finally you began to understand why he placed a chaste kiss to Satoru first.

The nerves that jumbled beneath your skin at the thought of participating in a tongue driven dance melted as he consumed you, the familiar feeling of his lips that you've felt against yours for hours at a time gracing your mouth, nothing different, nothing new, your fear of the unknown now deceased as he gave you a comfort of the known, warm lips against yours as his warm hands pressed against your cheeks before he pulled away, letting you take in a breath of air before he stole it once more.

He grasped you in his spell once more, enchanting you to his whims as he angled his head in a way you've never felt before, his lips hitting yours as he urged you to open your mouth alongside him, gently guiding you in a waltz as you finally felt his warm tongue enter your mouth, the foreign intrusion not unwelcome as he helped, his roaming hands finding purchase on your hips with one on the back of your scalp, pushing you into him as you fisted the fabric of his shirt, scared to explore as you went dizzy as he drank you in, guiding you so gently as you kissed, lips glued as he moved you in sync.

It was heated, with a fuzzy feeling lighting up your brain as you focused on him and only him, his two hands that were on you, drinking in their warmth until that warmth multiplied to four and you immediately recognize his touch, his slightly colder hands running along the length of your waist, lithe fingers squeezing as they scaled every curve. You were being devoured, nibbled upon by gentle lips and groping touches as they both set off on an adventure, wandering around on the island of your body and you let them.

You couldn't help but whine when you felt the warm kiss break off, cold air rushing into your screaming lungs that you couldn't care less about, you wanted him, needed him but before you could even make an attempt for his pretty lips he sang those oh so familiar words, "did it feel good," and just like last time your fumbling mouth couldn't run, words stolen by him as you merely hummed.

"mhm," airy and light as you stared at him with desire, feeling your beating heart thrum in your ears as you felt the hands that traversed your waist pull you towards him, grabbing your attention with his beautiful blue eyes, pink lips awaiting your arrival as he grinned.

"My turn pretty," he didn't ask but rather commanded, and you couldn't give yourself time to dwell on the pet name that spilled from his lips, the name that didn't refer to you as pretty but the embodiment of the word itself, your warmed cheeks the only evidence of his effect as he pulled for you and you shut your eyes to wait, only to hear a soft, "Tilt your head Toru," and as you peeked them open you could see Suguru's large fingers guiding Satoru's mouth to yours, angling his face to the side and you could feel yourself burning, lips parting and then you could feel Satoru on you, lips finding purchase on your own and you reached for his face, hands cupping Suguru's who merely interlaced your fingertips upon Satoru's cheek.

Satoru was, much like with all the sweets he ate, eager, tongue delving into your mouth. He was Suguru's opposite in all forms as his sloppy, unpracticed lips took whatever you had to offer. It was a clash of teeth and tongue and while it was messy and far from the tender guiding kiss Suguru offered it still made your mind blast off fireworks.

He didn't guide you but dominated you much to your compliance as your melting lips put up no protest. His hands travelled high up your torso, barely brushing against the side of your boob before travelling back down, elated fingers brushing and squeezing as he kissed you, finally and truly kissed you.

The two of you separated against your own will but to your lungs relief, as your heaving chest gulped down air as soon as your connected mouth parted, but despite your detachment a single clear tether held your two mouths together,  the thin bridge connecting you two slowly dissolved the further your head shifted away.

Suguru could feel himself gulp, the lewd saliva strand that stood between his two friend's mouths doing things to his body he couldn't quite understand, the very image something he wanted to burn into his memory, a picture he wanted to frame and as he watched the two of you pant he couldn't help the tug on his chest that filled him with lust.

He watched as your form straightened, bleary eyes blinking as you stared at Satoru, cloudy vision trained on his lips and as you opened your mouth to speak he expected to hear your sultry voice spill a praise that'd make his heart skip a beat, but he was quick to put that thought to rest.

"S-Satoru are you..." you pause, catching your breath, "eating sour gummies," you question, eyes wide with shock as Satoru flinched at your words.

"W- Wha, huh, N-No!" he stumbles, taken aback.

"You are," you gasp, "you totally are!" and you are pouncing forward, trying to pat around the couch to find where he hid the package as Suguru quickly removed the popcorn bowl from the vicinity, placing it on a side table as you and Satoru begin to wrestle, the white haired boy trying to fight you off as you peel away the blankets.

"Get off me you psycho!" he exclaims, "I don't have anything."

"Then why do you taste like blue raspberry!" you yell.

Soon enough your dirty little secret grew a little bit more filthier as instead of quick little kisses the three of you entered in contact that would be considered make outs. Bodies tightly wound as hands wandered from waists, to hips, to light brushes against chests and sliding over an occasional ass. Lips were more fervent in their approach with erotic sounds to match the pace as little whines and gasps graced the room.

Kisses were often given in more risky places eliciting slight protests as you hid between tall abandoned shelves in the library, pinned between bodies and books as they'd shush you. Kisses placed in the Gojo estates bathroom as you did your best to stay quiet as to not alert the wandering workers as they cleaned the manor. 

Your kisses never escalated into anything more but the two boys always seemed to scratch the irritating itch at the back of your brain that blossomed every so often, the itch they clambered over to soothe. The kisses you shared were always heated, lasting for nearly hours as the time between each session was lingering near months as times like this came few and far between. Despite the fact that something like this should've signaled something more in your trio, should've alluded to the three of you taking the next step in your relationship, you all stayed at the title of friends, or best friends, if that made it any better.

You were just a couple of pals who made out once and a while and went out together all the time, some would say you were dating but the thought never really crossed your mind, mainly because you didn't dare think about it. Especially since the kisses you shared weren't given on the regular, even quick pecks hidden from the public's eyes, it was because these were your dirty little secrets.

[agirlsguidetolove]

OBSESSED

pairings: draco malfoy x fem!gryffindor!reader, platonic!golden trio x reader.

word count: .9k

summary: Draco Malfoy was your least favorite person in the world, and you thought the feeling was mutual. What happens when you realize he’s actually obsessed with you?

part 1

Hogsmeade was your all time favorite place, especially in winter. Dressed in your favorite patterned scarf, big black jacket, long tights, and black boots, you felt warm and cozy. You and Hermione have your arms draped around each other’s shoulders as the two of you exit the Three Broomsticks, the taste of Butterbeer still on your tongue.

The two of you giggle at who knows what, stumbling from how hard you’re laughing. The slight falling of snowflakes doesn’t effect your mood, you watch as one lands on your nose as you and Hermione come down from your fit of giggles, choosing to focus on what you guys came here for; Christmas shopping for the boys.

Harry and Ron were a pain in your arse, but that didn’t mean they two weren’t simple. They wanted quidditch gear for when the season starts up again in spring. Easy as pie for you and your seemingly infinite money.

You and Hermione’s feet leave footprints in the snow, it crunching beneath your boots as you walk to Spintwitches Quidditch Supplies. Your smile seems untouchable as you walk with a pep in your step, staring down at your shoes. When you look up your smile falters, a frown threatening your lips at the sight of him.

White blond hair, a tight hoodie and a jacket thrown over that. Malfoy stands with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott on either of his sides. He leans against the wall of Honeydukes that leads you down into an alley. He nods along to whatever Nott was saying, clearly not paying attention. His eyes drift from his friends to yours.

Draco Malfoy is, simply put, your least favorite person in the entire world. There are no words to describe the absolutely anger the boy causes you. His arrogance and disrespect towards you and your friends is a mood sourer, and he was ruining your amazing day with just one look at you. His effect on you was irritating, and you could feel your own heart race and hear your breathe hitch when his blue eyes met yours. Fuck.

Your warm eyes turn cold in an instant as you watch Malfoy smirk. He reaches a hand up to ruffle his already messy hair as he starts to walk over to you and Hermione.

Too busy glaring at Malfoy as he saunters over, you miss the knowing look Nott and Zabini share with Hermione.

“Just ignore him,” Hermione urges. You give her a look, a pout plastered on your lips. She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

Easier said then done.

“Well, well,” Malfoy taunts. He’s grinning over at you, hands tucked into his pockets as he tilts his head at you, not even bothering to glance at Hermione. “Look who escaped the clutches of her boyfriend,” he spit, the words directed toward Harry, even though he wasn’t your boyfriend. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Your eye roll is immediate. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Malfoy?” you sneer, before sarcastically saying, “Surely a man like yourself has much better matters to attend to then bothering some Gryffindors.”

Malfoy’s smirk deepens as his eyes flicker down your body for a moment. “Don’t cut yourself short. I prefer it here.”

“Can’t we go, Y/N. Please.” Hermione tugs on your arm, already dragging you up the hill, away from the boy who seemed to never be capable of staying away from you.

“Yes, please,” you groaned, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes as you linked yours and Hermione’s arm together.

You can hear Malfoy’s footsteps behind you as he hurries to catch up to you, desperate for whatever he gains from annoying you. “Running away so soon? I knew you were a coward,” he exclaims.

That makes you pause, turning around, eyebrows scrunched in aggravation. “Excuse me?” you scoff, releasing Hermione’s hand and rushing to where the boy stood. “I’ll punch you in the face just like I did third year, don’t doubt that.”

His eyes sparkle as he looks down at you, your threat bouncing off of him. “Believe me, I don’t doubt you. Never have.”

What in the bloody hell was he on about?

”Mate,” Nott called from behind him, deep voiced annoyed with his friend. He raises his brows at Malfoy. “Let’s go.”

He shrugs at his friends, sticking his hands into his pocket. He smirks at you, tongue coming to press into his cheeks. His cheeks are red from the cold (or, maybe, from his raging crush on you).

“I’ll see you around, L/N.”

“Screw you, Malfoy,” you sneer, hair whipping as you trudge up the hill to meet Hermione where she stands, looking at the pair of you with an unimpressed expression.

When you make it to her, you link your arms together again. You smile at her. “Shall we?”

Hermione rolls her eyes, but nods.

When the two of you begin to walking, you stick your tongue out over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Malfoy still standing where he last stood, watching you.

Draco doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile.

not proofread 🥰

xx, lovey🫀

[lipglossanon]

Day 31

Kink: Free Use (reader)

Pairing: Stepdad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, stepcest, stepdad!Leon, dirty talk, free use reader, teasing, edging, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, incest kink, oral (f & m receiving), titty fucking, window sex, nipple play

not proofread

This is the last fic of the month! Thank you all for joining me in this year’s Kinktober!! Kudos to those who liked/commented/reblogged and sent in asks! I appreciate it all! 💜 👻 🎃 Happy Halloween!!

You press your face against the window, breath fogging the glass as you peer out into the darkness. From the light behind you, you’re just barely able to catch a few snowflakes drifting with the wind. 

“Forecast said to stay indoors,” Leon moves to stand at your back, exuding warmth and blocking the light. “Sorry we won’t be back in time for your little Halloween party.”

You shrug, “Mom’s the one hosting it. I’m not too worried about it.”

“Does she know you’ll be stuck up here with your dear old stepdad?” He murmurs into your ear and you press the dough of your thighs together. 

You shake your head, words dying on your tongue when he slides his hands under your shirt to unclasp your bra. His palms smooth around your ribs to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples.

“I think now’s a perfect time to have a little fun, sweetheart,” his low smoky tone has your clit throbbing for attention. “Think it’s time you let me use you however and whenever I want.”

Relaxing back against him, you whine, hands reaching up to clasp around his neck. His fingers tug and pinch your nipples until your hips rock forward, cunt aching to be touched. 

“Daddy, please,” you tilt your head to look up at him. “Touch me.”

“Ah ah, that’s not how this works,” he chuckles, squeezing your breasts in his warm palms. “Gonna stuff this chubby pussy right here against the window.”

Gasping, you help him slip your shirt and bra off. He bats your hands away when you reach down to slip off your skirt and panties. 

“Leave’em on,” he murmurs, raising the back of your skirt up, pushing your underwear to the side. “Can fuck your hot cunt just like this.”

Whining, you try to brace against the windowsill as Leon notches his cock at your slick hole. You both moan when he pushes inside, inch after inch until his dick is completely buried in your pussy. 

“So tight,” he grunts, fingers digging into the fat of your hips. “G’nna pound this greedy pussy all night.”

More than your breath fogs the glass; now your body heat is leaving an impression. Your bare breasts squish against the icy glass and you whimper, nipples tightening further until they’re stiff and sensitive. 

His pace doesn’t slow down at all, hips pumping against your ass as he fucks you at his own leisure.  No matter how you beg and plead, he ignores your swollen clit and just concentrates on slipping in and out of your clenching heat.

You lose track of time, arousal making your brain mush as he seeks out his own pleasure and ignoring yours. It’s so hot, your pussy is soaking wet; you can hear him pull his cock free with a wet suctioning noise on every thrust. 

“Daddy, daddy, please,” you whine. 

He growls and spanks your ass, “Shut up and take it, little girl. About to breed you full.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you drool, face smushed against the glass. “Wan’ it.”

“Slut,” he laughs under his breath before groaning. 

He fucks into you a few more times before his pelvis presses tightly against your ass, cock throbbing as rope after rope of hot thick cum fills your pussy to the brim.

Your eyes roll back, “‘m so full, daddy, s’too much.”

“Nonsense, sweetheart, look at this greedy little pussy just gobbling it all up,” he chastises, pulling his cock out with a plap. 

He fixes your panties back in place and pats your ass, “Leave your shirt off, wanna be able to play with those tits whenever I want.”

Standing on shaky legs you nod, “‘kay.”

He guides you back over to the couch, “And no touching that wet needy cunt. Only daddy can make you cum.”

You whine and a short little slap to your tits draws you up short. 

“Behave,” his eyes narrow. “Or you won’t cum at all.”

“Okay, daddy,” you pout, cunt throbbing and hot. 

The rest of the night, Leon does his best to drive you insane with horniness. He bends you over the couch and spanks your pussy until you nearly cum, then fucks you rough and fast until he can pull out and jizz all over your ass. 

Later, he corners you on the stairs and fucks your tits, making you spit all over his cock so he can glide against your skin easier. When he finishes, he coats your face and mouth with thick ropes of his cum before wiping it off and feeding it to you. 

The final straw for you is when he tosses you down onto the kitchen table and eats your cunt like it’s his last meal. 

“Daddy, please, I need to cum,” you cry openly, tears dripping down your cheeks. “It hurts.”

“Aww,” he blows cool air across your soaked slit and you whine. “My sweet girl needs to cum?”

“Please, daddy, I need it so bad.”

“Well, if you need it,” he coos mockingly. 

Raising up, he grabs your thighs and yanks your ass down to the edge of the table. You squeal and wrap your hands around his biceps. Notching the head of his cock at your cunt, he wastes no time in bottoming out in your sopping wet hole. 

“Damn, you’re soaked,” he groans. “Little hole’s just made for daddy’s fat dick, isn’t she, baby?”

“Uh huh,” you scratch at his arms. “S’all daddy’s.”

“Yeah you are,” his eyes darken. “My sweet daughter’s soft chubby pussy’s just too good for daddy to leave alone.”

Shuddering, your legs wrap tightly around his waist, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, so good.”  

“You’re just a cockdrunk slut,” he chuckles in your ear and you keen. “Squeezing me so tight, you gonna cum, sweetheart?”

You nod wildly, hips bucking up against his thrusts, “Uh huh, ‘m so close.”

He slips his hand between your bodies and pinches your clit.

“Oh, this clit’s so swollen,” he licks across your ear and your body spasms. “So fat and sensitive, huh?”

 “Daddy, daddy, ‘m gonna cum, oh god, oh god,” you ramble, mind lost to the pleasure building higher and higher with every stroke of his cock and fingers. 

He says something else but it’s completely lost to you as your climax whites out your brain. Crying out, your back bows, body thrashing underneath his as your orgasm washes over you in waves. 

“Fuck, good girl, god, gonna cream your tight fucking pussy,” he groans brokenly, humping your pussy like crazy until he stills, shooting his load into your milking and clenching hole. 

You lay there together, breathing heavily as you get your heart rates back down. He pulls away with a soft grunt, cock sitting half hard against his thigh. Cum oozes from your puffy cunt and he dips his head down to lick your clit. 

“Ready for another round, sweetheart?”