#he’s supposed to be the winter king
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feathersea · 5 months ago
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He’s so
Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure
Fae Nightmare by @owl-bones
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brainrotcharacters · 3 months ago
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As far as I care, he's only the worst Wolverine because he's not supposed to end up happy and at home at the end of the story
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pilotsacrilege · 6 months ago
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got this signed by tom kenny
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ajodreja · 7 months ago
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Man fuck the winter king *beams him with the gilf gun*
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gumclones · 1 year ago
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honestly I think that whatever the Winter King did to transfer his insanity was an accident. not necessarily something that came out of nowhere, but more… he was trying to do one thing and then suddenly he felt a lot more clearheaded
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brokentoasterz · 1 year ago
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Ice Onceler looking ass
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scattered-winter · 2 years ago
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aough I'm actually going so insane about peter/caspian again
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winters-left-hand · 1 year ago
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vessel i really am curious how come you can say the f word (NOT the one about gay people!!!) and not get in trouble :(
Of course, of course. I couldn't resist the opportunity to make the joke. At any rate, the answer is mostly to do with the status I have and the respect I am given. I normally avoid it so that the habit does not catch on (and to be polite), but I could very well call someone a dog to their face and they wouldn't be able to do anything about it. If they were of sufficiently low status they might even be expected to agree with me!
A Monarch could, of course, choose to punish a wayward Vessel for being rude to guests. I avoid putting the Winter King in such positions to the best of my ability, but even when I have been disrespectful He has not felt that I have gone far enough to warrant punishment.
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councilofcastamere · 2 months ago
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WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂
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a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.
TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development
A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…
The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.
That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.
But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.
And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.
Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.
Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.
You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.
You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.
What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?
And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.
However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.
For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.
“Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”
“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.
You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.
“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”
You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.
“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”
“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”
You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.
“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”
“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”
No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.
A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.
“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”
“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”
“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”
“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”
✫彡
And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.
“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”
“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”
“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”
You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.
You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.
You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.
You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.
And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.
You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.
“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”
“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”
“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.
Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.
“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.
“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.
✫彡
The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.
You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.
The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.
All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.
Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.
And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.
Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.
With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.
But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.
Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.
You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.
You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.
✫彡
By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.
But you weren’t alone.
Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.
“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”
“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”
“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”
“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”
“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”
“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”
“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”
You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.
“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”
You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.
“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”
You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.
Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”
“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”
“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”
You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”
Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.
“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”
He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.
“…your charms.”
You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.
You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.
Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.
“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”
The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.
“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”
You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.
“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”
“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”
His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.
“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.
All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.
His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.
“Cregan, I-"
And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.
You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.
“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”
Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.
He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.
“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”
“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.
“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”
“I did not think I’d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”
Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”
You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?
You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.
“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”
You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”
He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.
“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.
“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.
“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”
You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”
“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.
His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”
“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”
He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.
“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”
You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.
“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”
“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”
You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.
“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.
“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.
Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.
“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”
“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.
He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.
And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.
Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.
The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.
Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.
“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”
You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.
“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”
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dcvina-claires · 6 months ago
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the year is 2006. you’re an avid fan of collegiate exy. kevin day recently transferred from the best team in the league to the worst after breaking his hand in a skiing accident. before the season starts, janie smalls attempts suicide. she’s a fox, so absolutely no one is surprised by this. however, this means that david wymack has to find a new striker. he picks up a neglected, unremarkable kid from millport. for some reason, this mysterious nobody thinks it’s okay to publicly humiliate riko moriyama, king of exy. apparently, neil josten and kevin day talk shit about riko all the time (this confuses you. kevin and riko are supposed to be best friends). not long after, seth gordon dies of an overdose. once again, it’s the foxes, so no one should be surprised, but something is… off. seth was clean, and it didn’t seem likely for him to throw it away. the foxes don’t get anyone to replace him. despite being short a player, they’re performing better than ever before. you don’t want to admit it, but neil josten can probably be credited with a lot of the foxes success. and something is off about that kid, too. he’s a 5’3 brunette with brown eyes, and then suddenly he’s not. he comes back from winter break with red hair and blue eyes, but more interesting than that is the number four tattooed onto his face, marked for the ravens, marked for the perfect court. the normal minyard twin murders someone in cold blood. neil josten is actually nathaniel wesninski. his father, the butcher of baltimore, tortures him and burns his tattoo off. the trojans throw away their shot at winning. kevin covers up his tattoo with a queen chess piece. he’s never been skiing, the theories behind what happened to his hand are endless. jean moreau transfers to the trojans. this isn’t helping with the abuse allegations. despite everything stacked against them, the foxes beat the ravens. the unhinged minyard twin shatters riko’s hand to stop him from murdering the mafia kid on live tv. for some reason, this is riko’s final straw and he kills himself. some people are blaming kevin, andrew, and neil, but you personally believe that it’s a tad bit dramatic to commit suicide after losing one game and breaking a hand. the rest of the ravens don’t seem to agree, as they’re all suddenly in the most fucked up game of “follow the leader” known to man. jean moreau is spotted being escorted from the foxes dorm room a bloody mess, but that’s only the beginning. one of the ravens stabs himself with a letter opener, another steps onto the subway tracks, and a third overdoses. it’s 2007, and you started saying that the ravens were in a cult as a joke, but you don’t know if it’s a joke anymore. you’re seriously starting to consider that your favorite sport was created solely as a front for the mafia
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dreadsprites · 1 month ago
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fae kings!141
no tws ! minors dni as always
mr kraaaabs!!! i have an ideaaaa!!!
fae kings!141…. each the ruler of a different season…. hear me out…. walk with me. you move to an old cottage in the middle of nowhere out in the english countryside. it’s got dense, deep forests to the back of it, and every time you go out there by the forest’s edge you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
little do you know that you’re right.
each king rules the forest during their season of domain. soap, high king of summer, is therefore the first to spot you when you move out there in the middle of july. he quickly becomes enamored with you, much to the disgruntlement of the fae he’s supposed to be ruling over. he tries to lure you over with bright, beautiful flowers, but you remain too wary of the forest to touch them. a shame.
when fall makes it’s way around and it’s price’s turn to seat the throne, he too falls head over heels for the little human at the edge of the forest. his attempts to lure you into the forest come in the form of ripe, juicy apples that seem to hang just at your eye-level, almost like they’ve been grown for you (they have). your anxiety surrounding the forest remains, and you let them wither and fall to the ground. too bad, really.
winter, in all it’s sharp edges and stuffy-nosed bitterness, is far less subtle. ghost makes sure of this. there are footprints in the snow at the edges of the forest that you’re positive you didn’t make, with little trinkets and nicely made objects left out at the end of them as if a gift for you. what makes you most afraid, though, is the knife. unbeknownst to you, ghost has been killing any predators that find their way to your little home and he takes great pride in this. to show you how good of a hunter he is, he takes a femur bone and carves out of it a beautifully ornate knife, which he then gifts you. except you take neither the trinkets nor the knife, and instead decide to shut yourself inside for the winter out of fear. tsk, tsk.
when spring begins to soften the world again, you timidly begin to return to your backyard, just as gaz intends. he sends you deer for you to sit outside with and big, fat, bumblebees to pollinate your garden for you. he lives for the smile on your face. once you seem comfortable around the forest again, he grows a honeysuckle bush at the edges of your backyard. you’re delighted, and once they’re in bloom, immediately pluck one out to sip the nectar. it tastes funny going down… warm, like alcohol, you think, right before you faint. you crumple inwards, falling forwards just over the boundary line between your backyard and the forest. out cold, you can’t see the four inhuman men standing over you, smiling victoriously.
you’re in their world now.
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the-modern-typewriter · 2 months ago
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your writing is seriously amazing and what got me back into role-play writing! thank you! if possible could we get a human princess who attempted to outsmart a fae king and failed miserably? whether it be for power of her own, or the better good of her people and now she is to be at his side, watching the consequences of her own schemes play against her?
"You..."
"Me," the fairy king said. He sat upon her father's throne with the improper grace so common to his kind - legs dangling over one of the arms. He twirled the crown of her kingdom between his elegant fingers like it was a mere trinket.
The princess squared her shoulders.
"You tricked me," she said. "I asked you to get me out of this - this wretched marriage and you-!"
His head tilted, gaze sharpening a fraction, as she panted. His eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit room, ever brighter with the rain pelting outside of the window, like he was the only thing that the sun still remembered.
"I'm not marrying you," she said, through gritted teeth.
"You didn't ask not to marry me," he said. "You asked not to marry Prince Calloway or any of the other silly mortal men intent on wielding your power as their own. I do not fall under either of those categories."
That was true. But she hadn't thought for a second-
"You asked," he continued relentlessly, "to rule upon your throne forever more. You never specified you would do so alone."
"It was implied."
"Implication is not a contract."
"Why would you even want to marry me!?"
"Why would you think for a second you were capable of outsmarting a fairy king?"
The princess swallowed.
His voice hadn't exactly changed, still light and breezy, but something as old and dangerous as winter lurked beneath his sunny smile.
The deal had been a simple one, a classic tale. He would save her from the stupid fate her father thought best for her, and she would give him her first-born child. Fool on him that she didn't plan on having any children no matter the lineage of her bloodline. Why would she need to do that when she planned to be the first and eternal queen of her kingdom?
"I suppose," he said, with a sigh, "it is because you are a silly, spoiled mortal, no? Incapable of coping with the one time daddy didn't cave to your whims immediately. A child throwing a temper tantrum."
"That doesn't sound like someone you want to marry."
"Oh, you'll learn. Don't worry."
Her fists clenched. "I do not need your tutelage."
"Evidence suggests otherwise."
"I'm not marrying you."
"Your father has already agreed. And you owe me a child."
"It's absurd to marry someone simply to punish them!"
"Your unhappiness is a mere bonus."
"You're insufferable!"
"Careful, beloved." The very rain outside seemed to stop for a moment, two, as the princess's heart hammered. "For a second there it seemed like you'd forgotten who exactly you were addressing."
Her mouth dried.
He was prettier than Calloway was, but it was easy to mistake him as having the same nature. A foolish prince. Some player of the court too dumb to realise when he was being manipulated, as so many of them were.
He was not that.
He was very much not that.
"I'll marry Calloway," she said, a slight quiver in her voice. Calloway, at least, could be controlled. He was a brute, an idiot, but...
"Too late. The deal is done."
"We could make another deal."
"Why would I wish to make another deal? You have nothing else that I want."
"I - but I - I'm not marrying you. I refuse."
"Then you will be in breach of contract." His head tilted the other way. "Do you know what happens to silly little mortals who breach their contract with me?"
She did, regrettably, know that much. She had read about the fae before she summoned him. She hadn't - well, she'd considered some of the lesser fairies of his court and kind, the less powerful ones, but she was a princess. She'd thought it only right that she dealt with royalty. With him.
Now...
"You've made your point," she said. Her pride burned. "Please."
"Kneel."
She'd never knelt for anyone or anything in her life. She dropped to the cool tiles, face aflame with embarrassment, fear twisting in her stomach.
"What is my point, princess?"
"I'm - you're smarter than me," she said. "I'm a fool. A silly mortal girl."
"Indeed."
"So I've learned my lesson. You don't need to do this."
"Are you sorry?"
"I'm so sorry," she said. She managed to squeeze out a few tears. "I was unforgivably rude. You have my deepest, sincerest apologies. Sire. Uh - fairy king."
"Mm." He finally adjusted his pose, no longer so careless, sitting properly, leaned forward a little to appraise her with his handsome face resting upon his hands.
"So..." She dared another glance at him, biting down on her lip. "You'll call off the deal? Write this all off as a mortal mistake?"
"Oh, not at all," he said. He flashed her a smile. "But it's always good to start a marriage as one means to go on, isn't it?"
"You!" She jerked to her feet, dashing the tears from her cheeks. She managed to stop herself from outright insulting him again as he raised a delicate eyebrow.
"Me." Flat. Simmering.
She backed up a step. Her breath caught in her throat.
Thunder rumbled on the horizon.
"You're dismissed, princess," he said, cold, bored. "After all." He straightened. "You have a wedding to prepare for, don't you?"
She really wished, later, that she hadn't asked him for forever.
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moamidzyism · 10 months ago
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house warming (k.mg)
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☆。.:*·゚wc 756 smut ౨ৎ men DNI ˚⁺。˚ ୨୧ mingyu x fem!reader, established relationship, cockwarming [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]
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you really should have planned better.
it was like everything that could possibly go wrong did. you imagined that by now you would be wrapped up in a large, cozy comforter nestled on your cloud soft king size bed in your already furnished new house. but the movers got the wrong date down, so now your house was bare save for the mess of cardboard boxes in every room and the lumpy air mattress in the middle of your lonely bedroom.
the room lacked the warmth you had hoped for, and the chilly air seeped through the gaps. and to make matters worse, you found out that your heater was broken, in the dead of winter. 
it was too much to manage in one night, so you decided to unpack your closet and go to sleep. everything else was tomorrow’s problem.
but in the middle of the night, you stir awake, a kink in your neck reminding you of your less than ideal sleeping arrangement. you turn to the man lying beside you, who is restlessly moving around.
“what are you doing?” you groggily snap at him.
“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “”i’m just really cold.”
“there are extra blankets in the closet, i think.” you suggest, rolling over, trying to lull yourself back to sleep.
“i wanna feel you, baby.” he whispers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. you roll away from him, more focused on checking your phone, causing him to emit a low groan.
“no, baby, come back here.” he pleads, drawing out the last syllable of his sentence.
“mingyu, it’s two in the morning.” you retort, the harsh blue glow of your phone illuminating the room’s bare bones.
“i’m so cold,” he whines again, pulling the comforter over the two of you.
“baby, check in the closet for extra blankets.”
“but you’re so warm here,” he pulls you closer to him. he snuggles into your neck, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.
“god, we need to call a repair person to fix that stupid heater,” you groan when you think about everything that you need to do.
“we can do that in the morning,” he says, as he traces kisses along your jawline to your neck. “but in the meantime, we can keep each other warm.”
“mingyu, babe, i’m so tired, and the movers are coming at ten and we still have so much to do.”
“baby, baby,” he shushes you, wrapping you in his arms. “just relax.”
“i’m trying to go back to sleep.”
“please,” mingyu begs. “baby, it’s cold outside. i just want to feel your warmth.” you feel a shiver down your spine when he begins to nibble on your ear. “you don’t have to do anything, i just wanna be inside you.”
he slides your sweatpants down. slowly guiding his cock to your entrance, he rubs it up and down your slit. his tip pokes around your entrance and you push your hips back, encouraging him to enter into your tight cunt. his hands grip your hips tightly, his face screwing up in pleasure as he slowly pushes. you suck your breath as he bottoms out. “sorry,” he mumbles.
“it’s fine,” you sigh, melting into his embrace. mingyu, still mumbling sorries, moves around until he finally feels comfortable. when he does, his head returns to the nook of your neck. the two of you lie with your figures entwined, your limbs interwoven in an affectionate dance. your head rests against his chest, his heartbeat beneath you serving as a lullaby. his cold hands slide underneath your sweatshirt, and you clench around him.
“fuck,” he groans lowly and now it’s your turn to profusely apologize. “it’s fine, honey, just give me a moment to calm down.” you give him a moment before you place your hands on top of his arms where they rested at your waist. this was supposed to be an innocent moment – as innocent as it could be. it was supposed to be an opportunity to feel close to each other, but, as you’d expect with your boyfriend, innocence seemed to take a backseat to a different kind of intimacy.
slowly he rocks his hips against yours, prompting a soft moan to escape from your lips. “gyu,” you warn him slightly, but he ignores you, his hands slipping down to your hips to pull you closer to him. “what happened to “i just want to feel you”?”
“m sorry,” he moans out, “you know i can’t help it. you just feel so good.”
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entitled-fangirl · 4 months ago
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I'll find you.
Cregan Stark x wife!reader
Summary: the high Septon visits Winterfell, and Cregan would rather do anything else with his time than spend it with the priest.
Warnings: religious trauma, bad theology, blood, fighting, vulgar words and name-calling
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"I don't want him near her."
"My lord, please. You and the Lady must greet him most welcomingly. He's an important ally."
Cregan gritted his teeth. "He's a fucking fiend. I'll not have him anywhere near her. I'll greet him myself."
The maester sighed, "You cannot keep her away from him the entire time. It raises suspicion."
"I find myself hardly caring."
"Speak to her on it, my lord. Perhaps you'll come to an arrangement."
"You're worried about a septon?" She asked in a confused manner.
"You've ever had your gut wrench at the thought of someone?" He asked.
She leaned against the back of her chair with her head tilted in thought, "I suppose so."
"Septon Garren has no regard for life itself. I'd make a better priest than him."
She rolled her eyes, "We're his hosts. We still make the rules here, Cregan."
He sighed and sipped his ale. "I know that. Still, I'll not have him disrespect you."
"I'll stay at your side. How does that sound?"
He let out a long breath, "You won't wander?"
"I won't."
"Fine. Fine."
Septon Garren exited his carriage with a scowl that looked like it was permanently marred to his face.
He looked around at Winterfell with a look that screamed he was unimpressed.
Cregan stepped forward, keeping Y/n behind him, "Septon. How wonderful to have you join us."
He grimaced, "Yes. Yes. Very well."
Cregan had to hold back a sigh, "I've not seen you since I was young. Might I…" He paused, forcing himself to continue, "Might I introduce my Lady Stark?"
Garren's eyebrows shot up at that.
Cregan reluctantly pulled her in front of him, his hands never leaving the woman's body.
She smiled and held out her hand, "A pleasure, Septon Garren."
Garren stared at her hand with an unimpressed stare.
She awkwardly lowered her hand and leaned back into Cregan. 
Garren finally spoke, "'Tis colder than I imagined."
Cregan gritted his teeth in frustration, "Yes, well. You did decide to visit at the beginning of winter. So, I imagine it's much colder than King's Landing."
Y/n felt the tension, "Might we go inside? You must be weary from your travel."
Garren's eyes wandered over her slowly, as if seeing something that she didn't. "Yes. That would be fine."
Cregan sighed and pulled Y/n along with him, leading them into Winterfell.
"He doesn't seem that terrible, Cregan."
"You've no idea, my love. He's like a spider."
She scoffed lightly, "C'mon. He's unpleasant, yes. But you make him seem like a demon."
"He's the closest you'll find."
She sighed in frustration. "I am going to fetch my book from the library. When I return, I expect you to have pieced yourself back together."
She picked up the book she had abandoned in the library, turning around and jumping in surprise.
Septon Garren stood in the doorway.
Just staring. 
She held the book to her chest, feeling exposed for some reason. "Septon. Forgive me. I didn't hear you."
He grunted, continuing his stare. 
She was unsure of what to do but stare back. He was in the door way. What else was she to do?
She made herself walk the various shelves, pretending to scan for a book. 
He continued his stare. 
She finally sighed, "My husband told me you've been the high septon for three kings now."
Garren grunted, studying her. 
She looked around, very uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I should return to Cregan."
He moved one step to the side and grumbled under his breath, "Flee from me, Eve."
Her brow furrowed, "Hmm? I'm sorry?"
He stared with a glare now.
She quickly made it back to Cregan.
Cregan had decided to give the man a single chance due to his wife's words.
So he sat over his dinner, trying his hardest to converse with the man. 
"My friends in the south tell me the weather has been fairing nicely this season."
Garren grumbled, "Aye. A fair amount of rain."
Cregan nodded and sipped his wine, "I see. We're all snow. I understand the feeling of rain."
Y/n leaned forward with an intent to speak, "Tell me exactly what it is you do?"
Garren's brows furrow, "I'm the high septon."
She bit her lip, "Yes. But… what exactly does a septon do?"
He frowned, "Girl does not know the jobs of a septon?"
Cregan's chest puffed out on instinct.
"No, I'm afraid I don't. Please tell me." She tried to reason.
"I… I communicate with the Seven, and relay the message to the people. I perform exorcisms and offer sacrifices to our gods, old and new, to please them."
She hummed, "Oh… is that all?"
Cregan held back a chuckle.
Garren frowned but said nothing. 
Late that night, she sat up from the bed, unable to sleep.
Cregan snoozed loudly as he always did.
It seemed to be the only time he was in a state of pure relaxation, so she never dared to interrupt it.
She pushed herself from the bed and ran a hand through her messy hair in an attempt to calm it. 
After throwing a robe on over her small clothes, she left the room to spend her time in the library until morning. It was a common routine for her to do so, and none of the servants ever batted an eye when she did. 
But when she walked into the library, she froze to see Septon Garren there. She let out a soft gasp that caught his attention.
He turned, a new look in his eye, "Come. Sit."
She held her arms over herself, "No, I couldn't. I'm hardly appropriately dressed. I… I did not expect anyone else up at this hour."
He titled his head, "It does not bother me, my child. Sit."
She forced herself to talk slow steps to him, sitting down on the sofa next to him. 
He watched her closely, letting his eyes wander over her. 
"Couldn't sleep, I suppose?" She asked awkwardly.
He stared at her, debating something. 
He leaned towards her, grabbing her wrists and pulling her arms away from her body, making her expose herself more to him. 
She watched him in freight as he took her in more. 
He finally spoke, "'Tis a shame."
"W…What is?"
"The curse of women."
She let out a breath, "I… I'm sorry."
"You believed you could seduce a high septon? You're certainly a bold one."
She lightly scoffed as her hands began to shake, "W.. What?"
He grinned a sick smile, "You've succumb to your nature, girl. Don't play the fool when your septon discovers so."
She tried to pull her hands out of his, to no avail, "Stop."
He bit his smile back from growing wider. "I bet you've fooled the Stark lord." He leaned in, "No man but a holy one can outwit the dealings of an evil cunt."
"Let me go."
He stands, pulling her up with him, "On the contrary, girl. I believe I know just what to do with you- something Cregan Stark doesn't have the guts to do."
Her eyes welled up with tears, "I haven't done anything… I haven't… I haven't done anything."
One of his hands moved up to her hair, gripping the strands at the back of her neck harshly. "Let's go, Eve."
She could only comply as he began to drag her by her hair with no remorse.
He pulled her from the library and began to pull her down the corridor.
She began to cry, "Stop… please… pl… stop."
He laughed, "Now Eve uses her tears to plead for forgiveness. It's typical."
She tried her hardest to pry his fingers from her.
"You see, every woman is a reincarnate of Eve, sent by Satan to test us all. It's a man's job to keep her evil at bay." He leaned into her ear, "And yours has done a poor job of it, it seems."
She misstepped, tripping herself and falling to her feet. 
He reaffirmed his grip on her hair and tugged her up harshly. 
She let out a loud shriek in pain. 
He pulled her the rest of the way up, letting her go and slapping her across the face so hard, she fell again. 
She cried at the pain that throbbed in her face and head. "I didn't… I… Creg… please."
Garren grabbed her by the hair again, "Don't worry. I'll beat it out of you, girl."
She hiccuped, desperate for breath through her panic and tears as he continued to drag her down the corridor. 
"Please stop… I… I'll do anything… let.. let me go."
He gripped her chin tightly to pull her face to him, "You'll feel better after a proper beating, I assure you."
She felt the smallest but of determination, and she spit in his face.
He let out a grunt and took a step back. His anger grew tenfold suddenly, and he let out a full swing on her. 
She screamed at the pain as she fell to the floor another time.
Blood seeped from her nose profusely.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" Cregan's voice boomed from down the hall. 
He stood in his usual cloak, no doubt thrown over his small clothes. 
She hiccuped but made no effort to move from the ground in worry of having him see the blood.
"My lord," Garren began, "Your wretch attempted to seduce me in the dead of the night! You've not done your duty!"
Cregan's eyes widened in pure anger. A fire was lit behind the pupils. "My what?"
"Your wretch."
Cregan immediately began swinging, throwing a series of punches at the man.
She sat herself up, looking down at her shift and robe that now were stained with her blood. She let a small whine at the uncomfortable feeling of the liquid running from her nose. 
She let out a grunt and pushed herself up on shaky legs, immediately leaving as quickly as she could.
"Let me in."
She turned to look at the door, pausing the patting of the wet cloth to her nose.
She couldn't let him in like this.
"Leave this for the morrow, Cregan. Please."
She heard his feet shuffle.
"I'm not leaving this door until I'm done with the conversation."
"Well, I do not wish to converse."
"Let me in, or I'll break it down now."
She quickly got up, moving to it and unlocking it. But just as quickly as she had gotten up, she moved back to the vanity.
Cregan stepped in, assessing the room before his gaze settled on her, "My gods."
She turned her head to him, immediately beginning a sudden sob at the look in his eyes. 
He took a step towards her, but she shook her head, "Stop… d… don't please."
He paused, "You've got to let me see."
She shook her head more, "Don't come near me."
Cregan felt offended, "Love, why not?"
"I… I'm… nothing. I don't… I can't take more today… please."
His eyes softened, "What?'
She sniffled, "I can't take another beating, please, my lord."
He felt his stomach drop. "I… I'm not gonna hurt you, my girl."
Hot tears continued down her face, "I didn't mean to. I didn't know he was there…"
He nodded, "I never doubted you. I never did." He took a slow step forward, "Can I look at you?"
She studied him in deep thought before nodding. 
He let out a breath of relief and knelt in front of her, taking her face in his hands gently. 
"Nasty hit, huh?"
She scoffed, "That's all you've to say?"
He grimaced, "I have much to say, trust me, pretty."
When her snivels multiplied with the promise of more tears, he quickly corrected himself, "I'm not angered with you."
She looked at him through a blur of tears, "You're not?"
His brows came together, "How could you think that? Of course not. A man beat my wife, and you think I'm mad at you?"
"If you believe him.."
"About what?" He asked incredulously. "You know the horrid things I'll do to that man for what he said?"
She sniffled, "I'm sorry."
He shook his head, "Stop that."
She nodded, "Yes, my lord."
He let out a frustrated sigh, "No. Don't say that."
"What do you wish for me to say?"
"Doesn't matter. You're to call me whatever you wish. You know that." He paused, "Has he brain washed you so easily?"
Another tear fell down her cheek, "I'm just lost."
He nodded and wiped the tear, "I'll find you then. How's that?"
She let out a shaky breath. "Please."
He took the cloth from her hand and tilted her head up as he began to dabble the cloth across her nose.
She spoke after a while, "You can't kill him. He's the high septon."
"He touched you. I'll do whatever I wish with him."
"You'll make an enemy of King's Landing."
"Don't care."
She sniffled, "No?"
"Do you think I'm a formidable opponent because of my worry of making enemies? No." He rubbed a tender spot and apologized, "I'm a formidable enemy because I don't stop until I get what I want."
"And what do you want?"
"His head on a spike and you in my arms."
She smiled, "You have one of those things already."
He chuckled and threw the cloth onto the vanity, "Indeed, I do."
She gasped when he picked her up and took her to the bed.
"In the morning, I'll have them both. Until then, I'll enjoy what I have."
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Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn
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flseur · 11 months ago
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꒰ 𐙚 warmth — satoru gojo ꒱
⟡ synopsis : with each new year spent together, satoru just can't help but fall in love with the warmth you give him.
⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, fluff to smut, cursing, doggy, little bit of rough sex, praising, little bit of overstimulation, gojo cums inside !
౨ৎ note : an intimate new year’s eve with spent with satoru, isn’t he just so dreamy ? love my king
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if there was one thing satoru gojo could always truthfully say, it was irrevocably in love with you. he adores everything about you, down to the simplest of mannerisms that you have.
the way you do your hair, smooth out your clothes, make your morning tea, just every little thing that you do he adores.
satoru wouldn’t utter any of this outloud to suguru and shoko out of fear of embarrassment, but the two are able to see through his facade.
the way that he talks about you, brags about you and even the way he completely ignores any attention that he draws in from people when he goes out in public.
you’d think that due to his past of being a player, he’d enjoy the attention he gets but no. he’s absolutely smitten for you, and you only.
though he does make cheeky jokes about how lucky you are to have him, but he knows it’s the opposite. he’s lucky to have you.
and here you both are now, out on an evening walk during the winter. you’re bundled up because satoru insisted, mumbling about how he didn’t want to take care of you if you caught a cold while he wrapped you up in a knit scarf.
you’re fiddling with the black wool of the scarf with your left hand while your right is preoccupied with holding satoru’s hand.
“i still don’t understand why you forced me to wear this,” you mumbled before glancing over at him. “it’s not that cold out tonight. i would’ve been fine with just my jacket.”
satoru rolled his eyes and let out a little sigh, “i did tell you why, y/n. you just chose not to listen to me.”
“well, what was your reasoning?” you said.
“i said it was because if you caught a cold, then it would be up to me to take care of you.”
you let out a huff of annoyance, the warmth of your breath making a little foggy cloud in the cold weather. “you wouldn’t have to take care of me, satoru. i’m a grown adult. i can take care of myself, y’know?”
“i know that i don’t have to, but i would want do it,” he squeezes your hand. “because i know that you’d do the same for me.”
satoru thinks back to all the times when you’d take care of him, both before and during your relationship.
having to deal with him during late nights when he would show up to your apartment drunk or the one time he came down with the flu. 
you stayed with him until he was completely better, refusing to leave every time he said it was okay for you to go back home and that he’d be fine by himself.
but you knew he wouldn’t.
you knew that he’d still be shriveled up in a ball on his bed, wrapped in blankets and not get up to eat a real meal. 
you knew that he would live off of instant ramen and energy drinks and you didn’t want that to happen, so you stayed.
and now, satoru wants to be that person for you.
he wants to be able to stay by your side when you’re sick (though he’d very much rather you not get sick, so he goes through all measures to prevent that) and he wants to be there for you.
he wants to take care of you just like how you took care of him all those times before.
you let out a laugh, one that satoru was addicted to hearing.
“you’re so cute, ‘toru. i like it when you talk about caring for me.” you give him a warm smile.
he gives you a light bump on the shoulder with his own, before trying to hide his own smile in his jacket.
“uh, hello? aren’t i supposed to care about you? you can’t even let me be the world’s best boyfriend in peace, can you?” he jokes in an attempt to hide that he’s flustered. 
his cheeks flush a brighter pink and you know it’s not from the cold weather.
you laugh more at your boyfriend’s embarrassment. “you should be glad that geto and shoko aren’t here to listen to you! they'd get to see your soft side!”
gojo dramatically sighs, before lifting your right hand and presses a soft kiss to it.
“you’re unbearable…” he mutters against your skin, then letting your hands reassume back to they originally were. “let’s head back to the apartment, it's way too cold out…”
"''kay, are you gonna warm me up, 'toru?" you tease, entirely not expecting him to take the joke seriously.
"you'll see, princess."
and it's private moments like these that you enjoy with him the most. whether it be taking a walk while it snows or having your limbs be tangled in the sheets with his own.
"o-oh, shit, satoru..." you moan out, burying your face deeper into the mattress.
he had you on all fours with your ass up in the air while his thick cock was pistoning into you at an unrelenting pace.
his had one hand gripping at the fat of your hip, the blunt tip of his nails digging almost painfully into the skin, while the lithe fingers of his other danced up the beautiful arch of your back.
"feels good, baby?" he groans, biting his lips.
"yesss, feels s'good!" your words slur, your mind is invaded by the thoughts of satoru.
the feeling of your tight pussy constricting his cock is driving crazy. each snap of his hips delivers overwhelming amounts of pleasure and elicits your cries.
the scent of sex, the sound of skin against skin, and the conjoined moans shared between the two of you permeate your bedroom. every thrust of satoru's is accentuated, calculated, and deep, so deep that you swore you felt him in your stomach.
"so deep, oh m'god..." you mewl, fucking your hips back onto him. you were desperate for more, you needed that one thing to push you over the edge, to finally feel bliss.
reading your body language, as well as hearing your whimpers, satoru pulls completely out of your sopping heat, the tip of his cock resting right outside of your pussy.
you were about to ask him what he was doing before you yelp in surprise, feeling him abruptly shove his entire length back inside of you.
"fuck! love you so much, sweetheart. love this pussy so much..." he babbles, continuing to fuck into you so quickly that his balls slap up against your clit.
"i-i'm g'nna cum... just like that satoru..." you wail, cunt squeezing his length impossibly tighter.
"yeah? cum all over my cock, princess. make a fucking mess." gojo growls, reaching around your waist to pull you up, your back pressed against his chest.
he presses open mouth kisses to your neck, moaning against the skin, while one hand pinches at your nipple and the other one slithers down to your pussy and plays with your puffy clit.
satoru, satoru, satoru is all you could think about as you orgasmed. your arousal coated his cock and your inner thighs as your vision blurred white and ears rang.
and though he didn't want to push you too far, satoru couldn't help but indulge himself in your heat for a bit longer.
"'m almost there, baby... did so good for me." he moans, kissing your temple as you moan out. crystalline tears line your eyes due to overstimulation, he felt so fucking good, too good almost.
you could feel his cock twitch inside of you and his hips stutter against your ass. "cum inside... please 'toru, need you inside..." you whine.
"oh, fuck!" satoru cried out, placing his forehead against your forehead and his hips finally stilling as he stuffed your pussy full of his cum.
"love you s'much..." you whisper, your hands coming up to brush his white strands of hair.
"i love you too..." he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade.
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the-hipster-nugget · 1 year ago
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I think we need to talk about Scott’s third life death scene more often, specifically about the scene directly afterward with Martyn and Ren.
It’s so fucked up that Martyn chases after Scott, not hurting or actually touching him but follows him so his king can get a chance to kill him, but Martyn doesn’t touch Scott. Instead he yells after him these half baked apologies and explanations, trying to tell him “I didn’t want Jimmy to die!” That is actually insane.
As Martyn is chasing that boy he connected with at the start, the one he entered the nether with; they went through this worlds actual hell together. Now Martyn is tasked to take after Scott to not let him escape, someone he used to be close to, he chases with death in mind because his king commands it.
And Scott finally stops to face martyn, as the pathetic hand tries to tell him “we didn’t mean to kill your husband” is SO fucked up. Out of everything Martyn said, before having to watch his king murder him, he tells Scott that it was never his intention to harm Jimmy.
Upon Scott’s death, Martyn does not cheer or rejoice, he just lets out this pathetic noise of defeat after Ren murdered Scott for good. Martyn stands there feeling null and empty, while his king goes into hysterics.
Ren also, upon killing Scott, is immediately rushed with guilt and horror at himself. Starts sobbing, “how many more do I have to kill to this violence comes to an end?”
“It’s dripping into my eyes… I can’t see, I’ve been blinded by violence my hand.”
Ren sacrificed himself using Martyns hand, allowed his head to be chopped off so that he could become a red name- but even after all that, he cannot kill without guilt. Other red names like Skizz and Joel get this bloodlust and hunt like a predator. While Ren, the wolf king, kills and then he cries. He sobs and begs for Martyn to hold him. He’s a red name supposed to be thirsting for blood but it isn’t giving him that rush it should. He had Martyn take his head, and all for what? What was this all for?
He’s a red name, and the king of a red kingdom, with a red shield. He brought red winter in his wake, but he stays awake at night shivering in fear about the death of others. In his heart, Ren is too good hearted to kill without remorse. Despite it being his job, and something he sought out to do on purpose; he feels horribly guilty.
The blood dripping into his eyes blinding him is insane symbolism. Being a red name gives him this urge to kill, and it blinds the players. But doesn’t give Ren a rush of ecstasy or excitement, it scares him. Ren feels so blood thirsty that he gets dizzy, and it makes him want to cry. It makes him scared of himself, and he breaks down as yet another person died at his hand.
He begs Martyn to hold him, and all he can think about is before he had to murder another person. He never wanted to become this red king, never wanted his crown to be stained in blood. He wanted to hold Martyns hand, and enchant with him. That’s all he wanted, was a life of peace with his dear friend. Martyn was his friend, not his hand.
Ren asked for this, he prayed for red winter, but now that it arrived, he is so so cold. Ren just wanted to feel the warmth of spring.
Neither of them wanted to kill Scott. Neither of them felt satisfied watching Scott lose his final life, but they murdered him together anyway. They killed him, and then they cried about it. They hold each other in the dead of winter.
“How many more people do we have to kill before all this violence comes to an end?”
The red king just wishes red winter would finally end. He’s tired of his bloody crown weighing down his head, his weak scarred neck struggles to hold. Martyn holds his king in attempt to comfort him, but all he thinks about is how eventually, they will have to die too. Maybe if they’re lucky, they’ll die together.
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