#THIS IS WHY I NEEDED THIS RESOLVED THIS IS WHY I HAVE BEEN ON BIRTH CONTROL SINCE I WAS 15

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 67

Oilstripe and Halibutdusk have recovered from birth and greencough, respectively. Meanwhile, Paleseed gets whitecough.

[Image ID: Waspdawn says to Paleseed, ““I know fighting whitecough can be awful, so I wanted to give you this tail weave I  made with Rabbitjoy to cheer you up.” Paleseed now has red feathers in her tail. Under her, it says + CONDITION: WHITECOUGH, + ACCESSORY: RED FEATHERS.]

(Waspdawn: 33, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Paleseed: 33, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

Rapidleaf talks with Honeybuzz about what it’s like to be a cleric.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz says to Rapidleaf, “It isn’t worth the pain.”]

---

Honeybuzz adjusted the long hunt pelt covering Tempestshade’s back. The black cat was asleep, one of their few peaceful naps as their leg deteriorated more and more. The thick snowfall outside sent cold air stirring between the wooden walls. Mosspounce and Carnationspeckle tirelessly tended to the fire outside the medicine den, making sure their fellow caretaker would not suffer anymore than they already did. Honeybuzz doubted it would do much, though. Whatever damage the silver jaw caused to Tempestshade’s leg, Honeybuzz and Troutpool only delayed its endgame. 

Honeybuzz groomed Tempestshade’s neck as his patient groaned softly. He muttered a soft prayer and turned to his pots and baskets of medicine. As he checked on the Clan’s supply of painkillers, paws trudged through the clumpy snow outside. Rattlepelt made her way inside, snow gathering in balls on her fox pelt. She slipped it off, seemingly unphased by the storm.

“Are you busy, Honeybuzz?” Rattlepelt asked. Honeybuzz glanced at Tempestshade.

“Not really,” Honeybuzz muttered. He peeked under the wraps on Tempestshade’s leg and sighed. “Are you staying warm, Rattlepelt?”

“As warm as I can be,” Rattlepelt sighed. She strolled by the shelves of medicine sitting along the sand and wood. “I’m hoping to find something for my mood. Something calming. Lavender, maybe?”

“Ah yes, lavender in the middle of winter,” Honeybuzz scoffed, mustering a pathetic laugh. His sarcasm soured at Rattlepelt’s sharp expression. Honeybuzz cleared his throat, further tucked Tempestshade under their pelt, and said, “There are a lot of herbs for mood. What exactly are you experiencing?”

“What am I not experiencing lately?” Rattlepelt sighed, undoing a leather lid from a pot and glancing inside. “You’re the cleric, I would think you’d notice.” Honeybuzz refrained from telling her actually I’ve been quite busy trying to save Tempestshade’s life, interpret a prophecy, and deal with the identity of my mother’s killer, but yes Rattlepelt, I’ve absolutely been studying your mood.

“Mood swings?” Honeybuzz guessed. “Anxiety?” Honeybuzz took the leather lid back from Rattlepelt and sealed the pot.

“The first thing, I suppose,” Rattlepelt huffed. “According to my mate and mothers, I’ve been acting… out of character lately. Not quite as lively as I used to be. You must have something that can bring me back to normal.”

“It might not be herbs you need,” Honeybuzz suggested. “Have you talked with Spikecrash or Paleseed?”

“I don’t need a mediator,” Rattlepelt grunted with a thrash of her tail. 

“You talked with Paleseed all the time when your mother was held hostage,” Honeybuzz pointed out. “Why the refusal?”

“It’s different!” Rattlepelt snapped. She shoved past Honeybuzz and studied the herbs on the other side of the den. “I don’t want others talking about my business. I’d rather deal with it on my own time. You really can’t spare a pot of something? I just need to chew on something so I don’t chew on someone’s head.” Rattlepelt stuck her face into a basket.

“I don’t want to waste herbs on an issue a mediator could resolve,” Honeybuzz said. “Can you please stop looting through our supplies? We need them for Tempestshade.”

“Oh, so you’ll give medicine to an omen but not to one of your Clan’s only artisans?” The curl in Rattlepelt’s lip was like an angry warrior scaring a trespasser from the border. She flung a paw toward Tempestshade’s weak form. Honeybuzz stood his ground; he was not his mentor. Only StarClan could order him around. Defiant blue pierced through angry copper. Rattlepelt’s eyes widened. She groaned, recoiling back to the shelves. “This is what I’m talking about! Can you please just give me something?”

“Rattlepelt,” Honeybuzz said, stressing every word, “I am not giving you a lick of medicine until you speak with a mediator.” Rattlepelt deflated, veiny ears falling. Her claws unsheathed for a moment, stabbing the packed sand floor. She quickly covered them with her tail. She marched to her discarded fox pelt.

“I’d better leave before I do something else I’ll regret,” Rattlepelt grumbled, sliding the wet pelt onto her back. “Good luck with Tempestshade, Honeybuzz.” Rattlepelt stared at the thick falling snow outside the den. She slunk into the gray light with nary a shiver, the fire outside bouncing off her red leather pelt. Just when Honeybuzz began to process the new problem lumped onto his back, Rapidleaf scurried inside. Really? Now, of all moments?

“StarClan, that’s cold!” Rapidleaf yelped, shivering violently. Snow tumbled off her back as she shook.

“I thought you were assisting Troutpool with a ritual,” Honeybuzz sighed, turning to his shelves and pretending to check the herbs in an empty pot. 

“We just got back,” Rapidleaf panted. “I… wanted to talk to you before Troutpool joined you again.” Honeybuzz sighed deeply, gathering his strength. He couldn’t put this conversation off forever. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something to the Clan. Why haven’t you?” Ugggghhhhh why did Rapidleaf have to do this to him?

“You said it was an accident, right?” he huffed, finally facing Scrubmask’s killer. “You didn’t even remember what happened until later. So I’m staying quiet. It isn’t worth the pain.”

“But I killed her,” Rapidleaf said, soft and slow.

“And we moved on!” Honeybuzz groaned, throwing his head back. StarClan, this was like talking to a kit. “Mom took a new mate. My brothers and I graduated. Everyone thinks a Witch Hunter did it. Why would I hurt them all over again with this?”

“Because I killed her,” Rapidleaf said again, emphasizing each word, sinking in Honeybuzz’s strong presence.

“If you want to be punished so badly, confess to a codekeeper!” Honeybuzz snapped. “I am a cleric. I help my Clan. This, what you’ve done? Knowing that now will help no one. Don’t pretend to care about the right thing when you’re just a coward.” Rapidleaf bowed her head low. The bright fire outside turned her fur dark red like dried blood.

“If that’s what you think is right,” Rapidleaf muttered.

“Do your job and we won’t have any problems,” Honeybuzz growled, his golden face burning like the sun in the fire glow. He turned back to his empty pots and said, “Get warmed up. I don’t want to have to treat you for shivers.” He kept his ears perked as Rapidleaf’s paws crunched through the snow. He only looked back when he was certain she was gone. 

Honeybuzz groaned loudly, trudging to his nest and flopping into it. If he had to take this secret to StarClan, he was more than happy to do so. It was just easier. Now he only had three problems to deal with.

Well, that wasn’t true, even if he didn’t realize it yet. He had two problems.

Because Tempestshade had stopped breathing.

(Honeybuzz: 15, male, cleric, daring, constantly fiddling with tools)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

(Rattlepelt: 50, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Rapidleaf: 85, female, warrior, lonesome, prophecy interpreter)

Tempestshade dies from their mangled leg. Mosspounce tells fond stories of his littermate while Trumpetspore mourns and Scaleripple tries to push his feelings aside.

[Image ID: Scaleripple watches Trumpetspore and Mosspounce leave. Under him, it says + CONDITION: SENSORY OVERLOAD.]

---

James quietly loaded Tempestshade’s body onto his back as dawn glimmered through the snowfall. Troutpool gave up an old vole pelt from her nest so Tempestshade’s crusted, wounded leg could be covered during the funeral. The leather wrapped around their leg and concealed their deadly injuries. Dried herbs poked out from under the leather, hiding the decaying smell. 

Scaleripple could still smell it, though. He smelled every decomposing muscle and faded blood-scent that clung to Tempestshade’s pelt. He could smell Trumpetspore and Mosspounce’s sorrow, still strong after a night at vigil. He could smell the concoctions and ointments the clerics used at first to stop Tempestshade’s deterioration, then to soften the end. He could smell death clinging to the snow that drifted over camp.

“Tempestshade would probably say something silly now about how we should just talk to Oilstripe if we miss them,” Mosspounce scoffed, swallowing hard. Trumpetspore laughed softly, leaning hard into Mosspounce. The laugh was like claws tearing at Scaleripple’s ears.

“Do you three have something to mark their grave?” James asked, shifting awkwardly with the added weight.

“I do, I do,” Mosspounce sighed. He stood, groaning and stretching his back. “One of our bowls broke a few days ago. With how much Tempestshade cooked, I want to use that as their marker. What do you think, Scaleripple?”

“Fine,” Scaleripple said. He stared at the spot where Tempestshade’s body had laid all night. The snow formed a hole in their vague shape.

“Scaleripple?” Trumpetspore peeked around her brother. “I know we don’t talk much, but… thank you for being there for Tempestshade. Mosspounce and I can’t say enough how much that… I’m sorry, I can’t.” It took all Trumpetspore’s effort to get even those few words out. Mosspounce groomed his sister, purring through the pain.

“It’ll be a long walk with this snow,” James sighed. “Let’s get on our way.” Trumpetspore and Mosspounce followed James, but when Scaleripple stayed seated, Mosspounce stopped and glanced back.

“You two bury them,” Scaleripple said. “Be alone with them.” No one had any energy to argue; Mosspounce nodded after a moment and rejoined Trumpetspore on their slow procession to the graveyard. Scaleripple stayed trapped in the scent of death. It clung to his fur like salt. Scaleripple closed his eyes.

“Scale?” Weedfoot shuffled across the thick snow, catching fat snowflakes in her fur. The new scar she sported around her ankle made Scaleripple’s paws burn just from its look. Her whole body sagged like a dying weed as she slipped beside her son. “Do you need me today?”

“I’m alright, Mom,” Scaleripple said. Weedfoot’s pelt was a whisker’s length from Scaleripple’s, but it felt like she was laying on top of him. 

Scaleripple needed that.

“I would have thought you’d go with the others to the graveyard,” Weedfoot noted. 

“I didn’t want to,” Scaleripple said. His gaze was drawn back to the hole.

“Well, I won’t be sending you on any patrols for the next day or two,” Weedfoot explained softly (StarClan bless her, finally a soft voice for Scaleripple’s strained mind). “I know your sister has whitecough, but if you need someone to talk to, Paleseed can listen.” 

“I’d rather go on patrol,” Scaleripple said. His expression remained unchanged, neutral and stuck on the hole.

“I don’t think you’re truly alright, Scaleripple,” Weedfoot mumbled. She got between Scaleripple and the place Tempestshade once laid. Scaleripple blinked wildly, trying to focus on his mother’s form as his vision blurred. He knew what was coming as soon as his ears began to ring.

“Do you want the truth?” Scaleripple asked. The tensions in his shoulders made his muscles burn.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Weedfoot hummed softly.

“No, it isn’t,” Scaleripple said. There was no intended malice, yet his tone still struck at Weedfoot like a rat bite. The ringing in Scaleripple’s ears grew louder. “There’s a lot I don’t understand that others do. I understood Tempestshade, though. They understood me. Now no one understands me.” 

Scaleripple’s eyes could not focus, even with Weedfoot standing right in front of him. Color and shadow melted together like beeswax in a pot. His skin burned. Weedfoot said something, but her words were just like the camp; melted, dissolved, burning. No one understands. No one understands. No one understands No one understands No one understands No one understands NO ONE UNDERSTANDS.

Some part of Scaleripple’s mind heard his Clan gather around him, wondering just what he was muttering. He could see worried faces peering into his huge blue eyes, even if he had no way to react to them. Despite all that, all he could do was stare at nothing, pressure building in his chest, sinking deeper and deeper into himself. The caring words of his Clan blurred together, yet each phrase was clear as air, layering over the next in a bloodbath of screeching bird song.

“Scale, come on now, what are you saying?”

“We should get him out of camp.”

“StarClan, does everyone have to stare at him?”

“Scaleripple, it will all be okay.”

“I understand you, Scaleripple!”

“Leave him alone, this doesn’t concern you.”

“How would you feel if we swarmed you after a vigil?”

“We may not understand you, Scaleripple, but we love you.”

If only Scaleripple could thank the soft, careful voices that slipped through the noise. Perhaps later. There was nothing he could say now. Only collapse into the spiral of his own, odd mind.

(James: 143, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

(Scaleripple: 20, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Trumpetspore: 28, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter

(Mosspounce: 28, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Weedfoot: 116, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

Weevilkit and Yarrowkit make snow lumps at the entrance to camp.

[Image ID: Weevilkit and Yarrowkit build a snow cat as Wolfkit approaches. Yarrowkit says, “It looks a bit like a cat!” Under her, it says + PERMANENT CONDITION: ONE BAD EYE. Under Wolfkit, it says + CONDITION: BRUISES.]

---

Weevilkit couldn’t feel her nose, but she didn’t care. She rolled snowballs across the camp clearing toward Yarrowkit, who studied the large snow lump she and Weevilkit had cobbled together. The many, many kits of RippleClan had woken up from their sunhigh nap and now ruled the camp, running and screaming through the snow, entertaining one another. Yarrowkit protected the snow lump from her rampaging littermates, leaving light paw prints in its sides. Four snowballs sat along the corners of the lump like fat, lazy paws. 

“Is this big enough?” Weevilkit groaned. She shoved her giant snowball at Yarrowkit with one last mighty push. Yarrowkit trotted around the snowball, gauging just how big it truly was.

“Perfect!” Yarrowkit chirped. “Help me lift it on!” Yarrowkit and Weevilkit stood on either side of the snowball. They tucked their heads under their mound, snow crumbling into their eyes. Necks straining and muzzles aching, they lifted the snowball off the ground and threw it onto the mound. The bottom chunk of the snowball plopped off, making Yarrowkit and Weevilkit shriek.

“Pack it in!” Weevilkit cried. She and Yarrowkit scooped up snow and shoved it under their lump’s new head. Eventually, the lump no longer threatened to fall off. When Weevilkit was certain the structure was stable, she made two smaller snowballs and stuck them on the lump’s head. She bounced off the lump and admired it from the back.

“It looks a bit like a cat!” Yarrowkit chirped.

“Snow cat!” Weevilkit cheered, rearing onto her back legs like a horse.

It was at that moment that something strange occurred, something Weevilkit would not fully understand until she was older. In fact, in the moment, it felt more like a daydream than anything else, something that had come to her in the night and performed for her once more under the light of day. Yet the way she would describe it matched no daydream or typical trick of the mind.

On the other side of camp, Wolfkit eyed a snow pile a few tail-lengths behind Weevilkit. Harvest helped Robinkit and Currentkit build a mountain to scale and dig into like moles. As Weevilkit watched her sister, the gray kit’s form flickered. She stayed where she was, staring hungrily at the mountain, but another Wolfkit charged forward, slipping out of her body like a ghost. There was a fogginess to this second Wolfkit, a transparent and shiny nature that seemed like Oilstripe’s tales of StarClan cats. The real, solid Wolfkit did not react to this secondary form running out of her chest, unseeing.

But Weevilkit saw it all.

This ghostly Wolfkit darted past Yarrowkit. A misty version of Yarrowkit overlapped her living form, fur spiking and lips curling. Two cats existed in the same space, one in the other, making Weevilkit’s head hurt. Weevilkit watched as the other Wolfkit left deep pawprints behind her, even though the snow was no more disturbed than it had been. The other Wolfkit threw herself at the snow mountain. Harvest, Currentkit, and Robinkit gained their own foggy forms, stepping away from the ghost of the mountain. The nonexistent Wolfkit slammed into the mountain, but rather than the mountain collapsing into light and fluffy clumps, her head made a hole in the stiff snow. Wolfkit’s ghost collapsed at the base of the mountain. Weevilkit blinked, and the ghosts were gone.

And then it happened again.

Wolfkit darted past Yarrowkit. The brown and white kit jumped, fur spiking and lips curling. Harvest, Currentkit, and Robinkit hurried back as Wolfkit threw herself full-speed at the snow mountain. She face-planted into the unyielding snow and stumbled back with a loud groan. Weevilkit blinked again, this time shaking out her snow-dusted pelt.

A smart kit would have questioned that strange sight. However (and with no disrespect intended), Weevilkit was not smart.

“Are you okay?” Harvest asked, trying to force back her laughter at the face-shaped imprint in the snow.

“My face hurts,” Wolfkit grumbled, pulling herself out of the snow.

“That’s what happens when you run into a mountain,” Robinkit said matter-of-factly.

“It’s okay,” Currentkit promised. He slipped beside Wolfkit as the gray molly whimpered softly and rubbed her sore face.

“Wolfkit!” Yarrowkit snapped. “Don’t run past me like that! That’s my bad side!”

“Your bad side?” Weevilkit scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“You know!” Yarrowkit whined, smoothing out her fur. “Your bad side! Your dead eye! How would you like it if I scared you like that?” Weevilkit cocked her head so far to the side, her neck hurt.

“I don’t have a dead eye,” Weevilkit said. “How can an eye be dead?” While Robinkit and Currentkit teased Wolfkit, Harvest appeared behind Weevilkit.

“Mom, can you tell her about your dead eye?” Yarrowkit huffed. “Which one is it?”

“Yarrowkit, I don’t know what you’re saying,” Harvest said softly, getting to her daughter’s level. “Is something wrong with your eyes?” Weevilkit peered closer at Yarrowkit’s face. There was a droopiness to her right eye. Her pupil was huge compared to her other eye. A green haze covered the eye, depriving it of its usual sharpness. Harvest leaned in as well, staring intently at the right eye.

“Wait,” Yarrowkit gulped, “is your other eye supposed to do something?” Harvest sat up, swallowing hard. She buried her twitching tail under her flank.

“Yarrowkit,” Harvest said, “can you come with me? I want you to talk to Troutpool and Honeybuzz.”

“But I’m playing,” Yarrowkit huffed, placing a paw on the snow cat.

“You can go back to your game afterward, I promise,” Harvest stammered. “Now come along. You need to tell the clerics just what you’ve told me.” Yarrowkit deflated as Harvest looped around her and nudged her toward the medicine den. She glanced at Weevilkit as she passed, turning her head far to see her with her one good eye. 

Now, truth be told, while she would have to train around it, Yarrowkit would get along just fine with a bad eye. That was not what Weevilkit should have been concerned about.

(Weevilkit: 2, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Yarrowkit: 2, female, kit, noisy, stares at fire)

(Wolfkit: 2, female, kit, polite, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Harvest: 55, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Robinkit: 2, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Currentkit: 2, male, kit, polite, constantly climbing)

Anchovykit wakes up with a splitting headache and can’t get out of his nest.

[Image ID: Anchovykit says to Tempestshade, now a ghost, “Do you need help?” Under him, it says + CONDITION: SEVERE HEADACHE.]

---

It wasn’t fair. All the other kits were playing in the snow, screaming and cheering at their winter fun, kept warm by the fire crackling between the elder’s den and the warrior’s den. Anchovykit should have been out there. He had to go out there and play! He was missing out on all the joys of the day!

When Anchovykit stood at the edge of the nursery, looking out over camp, his eyes burned. His head smacked him about like an enemy warrior. The snow intensified the pain. He squeezed his eyes as tight as he could, trying to fight off the headache. Honeybuzz had told him to just rest, but how could he rest when everyone else was having fun?

But then again, with a headache like his, Anchovykit couldn’t play. Especially since it made him see things.

The headache added an odd sheen to the camp. A soft sparkle danced around the medicine den like stars in the day. Weevilkit and Wolfkit, laughing over their snowbound antics, shared in this sparkle. Oilstripe, who told her kits stories by the Shiprock, had a glow to her eyes that made Anchovykit’s pelt itch. Even though the shine clawed at his eyes, Anchovykit found it hard not to look at the odd ways his head toyed with him.

Still, the soft awe of the camp was nothing compared to the sheer horror of looking at Rattlepelt. The furless artisan watched the Clan from the corner of camp, using her fox pelt as warm flooring against the snow. Her single white ear twitched casually as she watched Weedfoot return from patrol with Lavendertwist, Waspdawn, and Puddlewhisper. Her claws poked through the snow as Weedfoot laughed at one of Lavendertwist’s jokes. She groaned softly, forcing herself to look away from the family. 

It wasn’t her gray skin or odd behavior that made Anchovykit nauseous, however. Slime covered Rattlepelt’s smooth skin, slick yet dull like mud. Her legs grew black the farther down they went. Slushy pools of black gunk collected at her paws. She had become a river of dark mud, her body as its source. And then there were her eyes. Gone was the warm and cheeky copper shine everyone found so familiar in Rattlepelt. Instead, bright yellow eyes burned with unhidden, unquenchable hatred, a hatred that threatened to seep into every wrinkle and fold of Rattlepelt’s bony body.

Anchovykit ran back into the quiet shadows of the nursery. Headaches were terrifying! He crawled into his empty nest with a whine. He shoved his muzzle into the moss and leather. The sooner he took a nap, the sooner this headache would go away, and the camp would look normal again. He breathed in the leftover scent of his mother and littermates. He was always safe with them. They would protect him from the horrors of his headache.

“You’re a funny little kit, aren’t you?”

“Clammask, go away,” Anchovykit whined through the moss.

“I sound like Clammask? Huh. Isn’t that funny!” 

Anchovykit wasn’t in his nest anymore. He opened his eyes to blackness below. It was not pure darkness, though; tiny stars glimmered far, far away. The floor matched the ceiling. All around Anchovykit, Silverpelt shone in small white specks. There was no ground for Anchovykit to stand on, but regardless, he stood. He could feel something warm and soft under his paws, but when he lifted them, there was nothing but Silverpelt underneath. His mother had told him that on some nights, Silverpelt glowed with a myriad of colors, but all he saw now was black and white. The sunless land was shockingly warm, warm in the way Anchovykit imagined summer to be, that beautiful season he had yet to see. The clawing, tearing pain in his head was now a small worm, wiggling about behind his eye. Anchovykit stated at his pelt. There was no source of light, but his body was not covered in shadow. There was a dullness to him, something in between light and darkness, the pure essence of his colors untainted by the sun.

“Weird dream,” he muttered.

“I don’t like involving a kitten like this, but they shouldn’t have to suffer for long.” Anchovykit turned around. A blue-gray molly stood behind him. Dark, swirling stripes like water criss-crossed her starry pelt. A moth’s wing hung delicately behind her ear in an impossible fashion, as though the moth had perched itself just on the stranger’s head. 

“You look like Weedfoot,” Anchovykit gasped.

“I should,” the stranger laughed. “I’m her daughter! My name is Ripplefern. I’m a member of StarClan, and I need your help.” Anchovykit’s eyes widened. His mother had grown up with second-paw tales of StarClan’s power, while Anchovykit and his littermates got to hear of their glory straight from the mouth of RippleClan. Now Anchovykit was one of those blessed souls that got visited by the ancestors in his sleep, even if he wasn’t a cleric! He kneaded the invisible ground, purring.

“Am I important?” Anchovykit purred, eagerly running up to Ripplefern.

“More than I can explain now,” Ripplefern sighed. “I have a friend who will spend a long time alone if you don’t help them. Do you think you can help my friend?”

“I’ll try,” Anchovykit promised. Ripplefern purred, her blue eyes growing soft as down.

“Follow me.” Ripplefern turned gracefully and wandered deeper into Silverpelt. Anchovykit stayed at her side, eyes scanning the strange land around him. If this was StarClan, it was really empty!

“Where are all the other StarClan warriors?” Anchovykit asked.

“They wouldn’t be here,” Ripplefern explained. “Sometimes, when a warrior dies, they don’t go straight to StarClan. Sometimes they need to wait a while as we sort through some problems. This is where they go to wait.” Ripplefern looked up into the endless speckled black. “My friend was born with a problem. When they died, the problem sent them here, and they can’t leave until we fix it. But it’s not a problem StarClan can fix alone. My friend could be here for moons if we got help the normal way. But we’re lucky. You’re here.”

“What’s the normal way?”

“Rituals, visions, other calls for assistance from the living clerics. Being alive makes you special.” Anchovykit walked a little taller. He was special.

A figure appeared in the distance. It was hard for Anchovykit to see them with their black fur. Anchovykit’s paws grew heavy when he saw black mud clinging to the figure’s legs. He only managed to recognize them when he saw their dark green eyes.

“Tempestshade!” Anchovykit gasped, leaving Ripplefern behind. “Do you need help?” Tempestshade gawked at the kit. They still looked alive; a little hazy, perhaps, but alive. Anchovykit had only known them with their leg bandaged, but now it was strong and free of scars. They could stand and look down on Anchovykit, just as confused as he was. 

“Do I know you?” Tempestshade asked.

“He was born while you were fighting your death wounds,” Ripplefern explained. Tempestshade only just noticed Ripplefern. They grew as still as they had been when their body laid in camp for vigil. 

“You look better than when I saw you last,” they managed to gulp.

“Anchovykit is here to help you,” Ripplefern said. “Do you see all that black ichor, Anchovykit? I need you to rip it off, like when you tear into a fish.” Anchovykit sneered at the ooze on Tempestshade’s legs. He was supposed to touch that? With his mouth? What could he even hold onto? It was mud!

“Why?” Anchovykit groaned.

“You’re the only one who can,” Ripplefern said. Hmm. Well, if StarClan asked it of him…

Anchovykit peered at the ooze. Maybe if he just bit the whole paw…. He shut his tiny jaws around Tempestshade’s front leg. Tempestshade hissed and smacked Anchovykit.

“Alright, not like that,” Ripplefern laughed. “Just… pretend you’re removing the lid off a pot. Peel the ichor off like you peel off the leather.” Oh, that made much more sense! 

Anchovykit spat out the gunk that stuck to his teeth. He took a big breath and dug his fangs into the black ichor. He pulled at the ooze with a violent, suctioning sound. It was like a paw trying to rip itself from the mud. There was no ground to gain a foothold on, but Anchovykit dug himself in regardless. The ichor stuck to Tempestshade like some many-legged monster of the deep. Anchovykit dug deeper into the ooze and pulled harder. As it stretched farther and farther from Tempestshade’s leg, it began to take a new form. Feline ears poked out of the black. A slender form took shape, its scruff in Anchovykit’s grasp. 

It was a cat, utterly soaked in the gut-heaving black ichor, no bone or pelt to speak of. It wasn’t much smaller than Anchovykit himself. Anchovykit dropped the mewling creature and gagged.

“What is that?” Anchovykit groaned. The creature squirmed and twitched like a newborn, making the worm in Anchovykit’s skull spasm once more in a headache.

“The power of the Dark Forest made manifest,” Ripplefern said, her tone low and serious in a way Anchovykit had never heard anyone speak in his short life. “This is Tempestshade’s curse in physical form, the evil energy that struck out against those who got too close. Your special sight shows you their influence, and the influence of the stars. You are the one who can pull them from idea and ethereal being to something tangible.”

“Huh?” Anchovykit said.

“Strike it along its neck,” Ripplefern sighed, waving her paw at the creature. “Now that you’ve pulled the curse off Tempestshade, you can fight it.” Ripplefern needed to get better at explaining things. Anchovykit may have been young, but he understood what it meant to fight like a warrior.

Anchovykit jumped onto the creature with a yowl more suited to a play fight than true battle. The pathetic thing was no match for a harsh wind, let alone Anchovykit’s tiny fangs. He shoved the creature onto its back and bit into its neck. The creature stopped squirming at once. As Anchovykit tightened his jaw, the monster’s ichor dripped through the invisible floor. It tumbled through the starry abyss below, everfalling, never landing. Piece by piece the creature melted away until Anchovykit’s teeth smacked together with nothing left to hold.

“I just fought a Dark Forest cat,” he gasped softly. His flank wiggled as he cheered, “I fought the Dark Forest!”

“In a sense,” Ripplefern chuckled.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised I didn’t go to StarClan,” Tempestshade said with an awkward scoff. “Can’t really let in an omen, I suppose.”

“It’s not your fault the Dark Forest latched onto you,” Ripplefern said. She slowly approached the black tabby. Anchovykit stepped back before he even thought to give them room. “You did well with what you had to bear. But now you don’t have to wait here anymore. You can come with me.” 

Ripplefern’s nose touched Tempestshade’s forehead. A spark danced where skin met fur. Stardust shimmered over Tempestshade’s head. A glittering wave coursed over their pelt. Brilliant stars danced along the stripes in their fur. The gunk that clogged their paws was now a shimmery, sparkling mist. Tempestshade gawked at their new form, lifting each paw to study the shine.

“Oh,” Tempestshade muttered.

“StarClan is excited to taste some of your food,” Ripplefern purred, bunting Tempestshade’s shoulder. “There’s a lot I want to talk to you about.”

“I just want to know how Moss and Trumpet and Scale are doing without me,” Tempestshade sighed, touching noses with Ripplefern. They paused for a moment, then stepped back. “Actually, no, that isn’t the only thing I want to know. What’s his story?” Tempestshade looked at Anchovykit.

“I’ll tell you in private,” Ripplefern promised. She set her tail on Tempestshade’s back.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” Anchovykit asked, marching up to Ripplefern. “I don’t know my story either!”

“I’ve shown you what you can do,” Ripplefern sighed, shaking her head, “but you’ll have to work some things through yourself. I’m afraid StarClan can’t do everything for you. Just remember what I taught you, Anchovykit. Be good to your mother.” Ripplefern touched her nose to Anchovykit’s head. It was as cold as the winter chill blowing off the ocean.

When Anchovykit woke up, he still had a raging headache, but that was nothing compared to the complete and utter confusion that made his vision spin.

(Anchovykit: 2, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Rattlepelt: 50, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Ripplefern: 18, female, historian, charismatic, talented swimmer, good fighter)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

Billowkit can’t stop sneezing.

[Image ID: Billowkit asks Troutpool, “So I’ll be sneezing forever?” Under him, it says + PERMANENT CONDITION: ALLERGIES. In the back, Currentkit calls, “Let’s see what makes you sneeze!” Under him, it says + NEW SKILL: HAS LOTS OF IDEAS.]

(Troutpool: 28, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Billowkit: 2, male, kit, bossy, active imagination)

(Currentkit: 2, male, kit, polite, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas)

[fractallogic]

Please join me in admiring the hilarious disparity between the number of books I’ve read so far this year vs. the number of PAGES I’ve read this year, courtesy of the 1000-page tome I finished this morning

And yeah the next three non-work books I have on deck are each about 700 pages (two fantasy and one contemporary hockey romance????? Wtf is she writing about for that long????????) (don’t worry I’m starting it tonight so I’ll be able to report back soon), so… given my reading proclivities I should have set the page goal higher than the estimate given by the app. Lmfao. But still.

Anyway you should use StoryGraph if you want to use goodreads but don’t want to support Amazon and would rather support a black-owned, woman-owned independent app!! And if you want fun graphs about your reading! And thematic reading challenges! And you can import your goodreads data!

[dee-writes-smut]

RHODODENDRONS (Chapter Eight)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Lucien has found a healer whom he knows well enough to wake in the middle of the night. After ushering you in, you start to realize with a startling clarity that your baby is in much more danger than you had originally anticipated.

CONTENT WARNINGS depictions of labor, pain, and infant dangers, birth dangers (nuchal cord), Eris and Lucien being super sweet, don't worry there's some fluff at the end :)

AUTHORS NOTE I know a lot of you might be angry with me for not having Eris grovel, but because the situation is so dire, I decided that I was going to hold off on that until the next chapter. Don't you worry, he will be on his knees here pretty soon ;)

SERIES MASTERLIST

They turned a corner, the alleyway where you had been left in agony now coming into view. The sight of you on the ground, pale and trembling, sent a jolt of terror through Eris. He could see the blood, the pain etched on your face, and his resolve hardened.

Lucien slowed his pace, his face pale with worry as they approached. "We need to get her to a healer, now."

Eris dropped to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch your face. "I’m here," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I’m here, and I won’t leave you."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of pain and relief. "Eris… it hurts…"

He nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, love. We’re going to get you help. Just hold on a little longer."

Lucien stood nearby, his eyes darting around the alley as if he could will a healer to appear. "Eris, we need to move her. We can’t stay here."

Eris nodded, his mind racing. He lifted you as gently as he could, his heart breaking at your pained whimper. "Stay with me," he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead. "We’re going to get through this."

Lucien led the way, his voice urgent as he spoke to Eris. "There’s a healer not far from here. We need to hurry."

Eris carried you, every step filled with determination and fear. He glanced at Lucien, a question burning in his eyes. "Lucien, do you… do you know why she’s here? Why she came to the Autumn Court?"

Lucien shook his head, his face a mask of worry. "No, she never told me. I assumed she was with you."

Eris’s heart clenched at the misunderstanding. There was so much Lucien didn’t know, so much he had to explain, but now was not the time. "We need to get her to safety first," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

As they approached the healer’s door, Lucien banged on it urgently, shouting for help. Eris held you close, his mind filled with thoughts of the future, of the promises he had made. He couldn’t lose you, not now, not ever.

The door swung open, and the healer took one look at you before ushering them inside. Eris laid you gently on the bed, his hand never leaving yours. "Stay with me," he whispered again, his voice breaking. "I love you, and I’m here."

As the healer worked, Eris stood by your side, his heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. He looked at Lucien, a silent plea in his eyes. There would be time for explanations, for truths to be revealed. But for now, all that mattered was you and the life they were about to bring into the world.

Eris vowed that he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, to be the man you needed him to be. And as he held your hand, he prayed that it wouldn’t be too late.

The moment Eris finally came to your side, a surge of relief and fear washed over you. His touch, warm and reassuring, anchored you amidst the whirlwind of pain and uncertainty. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shirt, the fear for your child gnawing at your insides. The agony of labor had already taken its toll, but the sight of Eris beside you brought a flicker of hope.

As Eris and Lucien carried you to the healer’s door, every jolt and bump sent waves of pain crashing through you. You held on to Eris, your eyes locking with his, the fear evident in your gaze. “It hurts so much,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of your contractions.

“We’re almost there,” Eris murmured, his voice a soothing balm despite the urgency in his eyes. “Just hold on a little longer.”

The healer's door opened, and you were ushered inside. The room was dimly lit, the scent of herbs and antiseptics hanging in the air. The healer, a woman with kind eyes and steady hands, quickly assessed the situation.

“Get her on the bed,” she instructed, her voice calm but firm.

Eris gently laid you down, his hand never leaving yours. The healer examined you, her brow furrowing with concern. “The baby’s in distress,” she said, her tone serious. “The umbilical cord is wrapped around its neck.”

Panic surged through you, your heart pounding in your chest. “No, please,” you gasped, tears streaming down your face. “Save my baby.”

The healer nodded, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. “I need you to push, but carefully. We need to get the baby out quickly.”

The pain was unbearable, every contraction a wave of agony that left you breathless. You gritted your teeth, pushing with all your strength, Eris’s voice a constant presence in your ear, urging you on. “You’re doing great,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “Just a little more.”

But the baby wasn’t moving. The healer’s expression grew more concerned, her hands working frantically. “The baby is stuck,” she said, her voice tense. “We need to act fast.”

Fear clawed at you, the thought of losing your child unbearable. “Please, do something,” you begged, your voice a desperate plea.

The healer nodded, her hands moving with a renewed urgency. She turned to Eris and Lucien. “I need you both to help me. Hold her steady and keep her calm.”

Eris moved to your side, his hands gripping yours tightly. “I’m here,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “We’re going to get through this.”

Lucien stood on your other side, his presence a surprising comfort. “You’re strong,” he said, his voice gentle. “You can do this.”

You pushed again, the pain overwhelming, but the healer’s hands were sure and steady. She manipulated the baby, her movements precise. “One more big push,” she instructed. “This is it.”

With a final, agonizing effort, you pushed with all your might. The room seemed to blur, the pain and fear merging into one intense sensation. Then, suddenly, there was a cry – a loud, piercing wail that filled the room.

The healer lifted the baby, her expression one of relief. “It’s a girl,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “And she’s healthy.”

Tears of relief and joy streamed down your face as the healer placed the tiny, squirming bundle in your arms. You looked at Eris, his eyes filled with love and awe, and then at Lucien, who stood back, a mixture of emotions playing across his face.

Eris leaned down, his forehead touching yours. “You did it,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “She’s here, and she’s perfect.”

You looked down at your daughter, her tiny fingers wrapping around yours, and felt a surge of love so powerful it took your breath away. The fear and pain melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of completeness.

The pain and fear had been worth it. Your daughter was here, and she was safe. And as you looked into her tiny, bright eyes, you knew that you would do anything to protect her and give her the best life possible.

As you held your newborn daughter in your arms, a sense of peace settled over the room. Her tiny fingers wrapped around yours, and her eyes, a vivid mix of green and amber, looked up at you with curiosity. You glanced up at Eris, who was kneeling beside you, his gaze filled with pride and love.

Lucien, standing a bit further back, took a step closer. He had been quietly supportive throughout the ordeal, but now his eyes were locked on the baby. A frown creased his forehead, and he leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he studied the child’s features more closely.

Your daughter yawned, her small face scrunching up in a way that was unmistakably familiar. Lucien’s breath hitched as realization dawned on him. The resemblance was uncanny – her eyes, the shape of her nose, the hint of a reddish tint in her hair.

“Wait,” Lucien murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Her eyes… they’re… she looks like…” His words trailed off, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. He looked at you, then at Eris, searching for answers.

You turned to face him, your heart heavy with the truth that you had kept hidden for so long. “Lucien,” you began, your voice trembling. “I need to tell you something.”

Lucien shook his head, taking a step back. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. “This can’t be. Eris, tell me it isn’t true. Tell me she’s yours.”

Eris looked away, his jaw clenched, a mix of pain and resignation in his eyes. “She’s not mine, Lucien,” he said quietly. “She’s yours.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the revelation hanging heavy in the air. Lucien’s eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and anguish. He stumbled back, his hand covering his mouth as he tried to process the truth.

“How?” Lucien whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “When… when did this happen?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you held your daughter closer. “It was Calanmai,” you said, your voice barely audible. “When… when we thought it was for the greater good of the Spring Court. I didn’t know I was pregnant until much later. I… I’m so sorry, Lucien. I should have told you.”

Lucien looked at the baby, his expression torn between anger and heartbreak. “And Eris?” he asked, his voice shaking. “How did he find out?”

Eris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I found out that you two were together when you showed up in the court. She confessed everything a few weeks ago when I confronted her about it. I… I needed time to process it. That’s why I left.”

Lucien’s eyes flashed with anger. “I cant believe you left her alone to deal with this over… over some stupid opportunity to figure out how you might feel. The girl might be mine brother, but I never fell in love with her mother.”

“I didn’t know what to do!” Eris snapped, his own voice filled with anguish. “I was trying to protect her, to give myself space. I thought… I thought it was best..”

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unresolved emotions. You looked at Lucien, tears streaming down your face. “Please, Lucien,” you begged. “I know this is a lot to take in, but our daughter needs you.”

Lucien’s eyes softened as he looked at the baby. He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the revelation. “I’m here,” he said finally, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m here for both of you..”

Eris stepped back, his face a mask of pain. “I’ll give you some space,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “Take care of her, Lucien. She needs you.”

As Eris turned to leave, you reached out, grabbing his hand. “Don’t you dare leave me again, Eris Vanserra,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “We need you too. Please, stay.”

Eris looked at you, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I don’t know if I can,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can handle this.”

Lucien's eyes were still wet with tears as he looked at the tiny life cradled in your arms. He took a deep, steadying breath, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on him. Finally, he spoke, his voice a mixture of determination and sorrow.

"I want to be part of her life," Lucien began, his gaze shifting between you and Eris. "But not as her father."

You and Eris exchanged a surprised glance. Lucien continued, his voice growing more resolute. "Eris, I want you to take over all rights to the child. You’ve been here for her, for both of them, and you should be the one to raise her."

Eris's eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly in disbelief. "Lucien, are you sure about this? She's your daughter—"

"I know," Lucien interrupted, his voice breaking slightly. "But I believe this is what’s best for her. I’ve seen how much you care for them, how much they both mean to you. And I… I don’t want to disrupt her life by trying to step in now."

Tears welled in your eyes again as you looked at Lucien, gratitude and sadness mixing within you. "Lucien… I…"

He held up a hand to stop you. "I’ll always be here for her, as her uncle. I want her to know she has family who loves her. But I think it’s best if she grows up with you as her father, Eris. Someone she can look up to and trust completely."

Eris swallowed hard, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I promise," he said, his voice firm. "I promise to take care of her, to love her, and to give her the life she deserves."

Lucien nodded, relief and pain evident on his face. "That’s all I need to hear. Thank you, Eris."

A heavy silence filled the room, the gravity of the decision settling over all of you. Lucien stepped closer to the baby, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "She’s beautiful," he whispered, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. "I’m glad she has both of you."

You reached out, placing a hand on Lucien’s arm. "Thank you, Lucien. For everything. I’ll make sure she knows how much you care about her."

Lucien nodded, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "That’s all I could ever ask for."

Eris stepped forward, placing a hand on Lucien’s shoulder. "We’ll do this together. As a family."

Lucien took a deep breath, nodding once more before stepping back. "I should give you some time. There’s a lot to process, and she needs you right now."

As Lucien turned to leave, you called after him. "Lucien, wait." He paused, looking back at you. "You’re always welcome here. Anytime."

A grateful smile spread across Lucien’s face. "Thank you. I’ll see you soon."

With that, Lucien left the room, leaving you and Eris alone with your daughter. Eris looked down at you, his eyes filled with love and determination. "We’ll get through this," he said softly, his voice steady. "Together."

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you held your daughter close. "Together," you echoed, finding strength in his presence.

And as you looked at the tiny life in your arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, as a family.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006 @rosewood-cafe @saltedcoffeescotch @dumblani @paleidiot @rcarbo1 @yourmomsushi

[solitary-traveler]

Ascent to Oblivion part 1 - airborne embrace

The heart imposes how one should act. How they should feel. So how can a puppet constructed without a heart exhibit such distinct qualities?

Notes: This one is very self-indulgent. I swear I wish there was an option to catch him during this scene—

Warning: reader is not traveler btw, slight angst?

A heart is regarded as a mirror that reflects someone’s soul. A sovereign ruler that ordains decrees that the body is meant to follow. 

The heart imposes how one should act. How they should feel.

So how can a puppet constructed without a heart exhibit such distinct qualities?

He doesn't have a soul, nor a heart for that matter. Yet Scaramouche doesn’t fail to display the epitome of humanity. The emotions he claims are cursed act as a substitute; an artificial heart that ushers him in the direction of the deepest desires that he sought after. It spreads within his body like a burning infection, leaving a bitter taste of rage and fury that will never be quelled. Come hell or high water, his resolve never wavers. His ambition to prove to everyone that he is destined for more perseveres. He sprints to his goal like a marathon. To conclude his journey and prove to his mother that he has always been worthy of the gnosis.

That was your understanding of the 6th Harbinger, the Balladeer.

You stand beside the Traveler, along with the Archon of Wisdom you had liberated earlier. You encounter the rising "god" of Sumeru—the existence of who you know as Scaramouche—as he presents himself as the Shouki no Kami, the Prodigal, Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom. A long drawn-out battle that persisted 168 loops before you and the Traveler snatch victory from the harbinger.

You were tired and on the verge of collapsing. Bruises and scars are scattered across every nook and cranny of your skin. Yet despite everything—every word, every truth, every lie—you can't bring yourself to hate him. 

You wanted to hate him.

But why couldn't you?

Was it because you felt pity? Because the solicitude of his sorrows softened the fortification encircling your heart? 

Or was it because sympathized with him? Maybe you too knew how it felt when the cruel jaws of life gnaw on the strings that control destiny, only to give birth to nothing but misery and hatred toward the world?

As you looked up, you saw the electro gnosis in Nahida's possession. The puppet yells, an anguished wail of cries as every word laced with desperation begs to have the gnosis back.

"No! Anything but the gnosis!"

"That's mine!"

It was strange. Watching someone like Scaramouche throw away their pride and dignity, just for one measly gnosis. A gnosis that shaped his entire identity. An item he's been promised when he was fabricated, a promise the Raiden Shogun never kept. 

Your heart throbs. Was this the one you were supposed to hate? A misguided child who grew up hating himself and everyone around him because of accidents he interpreted as his fault?

Scaramouche's slender arms extend to seize the gnosis, to grasp the adhesive that was holding up his fragmented individuality. One by one, the tubes embedded in him fracture. Pink liquid sloshed out like waves, smearing pigments on the platform. But he couldn't care less. He wanted the gnosis. He needed it. With a hushed click, your eyes widened.

He fell.

And you jumped.

Despite the burning sensation of the wounds you had accumulated from the puppet, you rise without hesitation as the overwhelming urge to catch him coursed through your veins. You create a whirlwind that propels you in his direction, with the aid of your anemo vision. Time itself decelerates as you can only hope to reach him. You were praying to any go out there that you haven't miscalculated.

One.

Your arms wrap around Scaramouche, cradling him closely to you. You caught him. Thank the archons you caught him. 

Two.

You were to land swiftly on the ground—but having exerted the last of your energy—your touchdown wasn't as smooth or graceful as you had hoped. Your feet slipped, causing you and the harbinger in your arms to skid towards the rubble of rocks. Even then, you squeezed him tightly, not wanting to let go.

Three.

A deafening crash resounds in the domain as you smash into the massive debris. But your clutch doesn't waver. You held the puppet in your arms, a testament of your newfound will to protect him. To keep him safe. You could no longer watch him be cheated out of everything good. He deserves some peace, a tranquility you were willing to give. In spite of your best efforts to remain awake and asses how Scaramouche was faring, your brain started to deprive you of your consciousness.

Four.

A hand clutches your clothes firmly, as you feel the cold porcelain pressed against your skin. Before you collapse into an unconscious state, you overhear a broken sob. A sound only those with a shattered soul can let out.

Taglist for part 2 is open btw!

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Pink Moon in Scorpio ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

Hey, was your Full Pink Moon in Scorpio great on the 24th/25th of April? It took me a couple of days to realise there was an active shedding and releasing of A FUCKTON of black magick and karmic debris from the collective of people tuned into this PAC. That shedding and releasing was by Divine Mandate, so that’s good to know hahah

After the Full Moon, have you been feeling lighter now? Brighter in the mind? Clearer about your purpose, maybe? More motivated to take the next step? Kinda ironic because Scorpio is the darkest sign of all. But hey, seeds need to break in the dark for them to grow into plants, trees, fruits and flowers, right?

This Full Pink Moon in Scorpio is really associated with rebirth, plant magick and wishing for a victorious blooming of our desires. Scorpio is also a sign associated with the underworld, death and ancestors. Did you know people born with significant Scorpio influences in their birth chart were often born shortly after some death had occurred within the family/bloodline?

Since the Full Pink Moon has passed, have you been feeling the call of your ancestors? You’ve got a huge family of great and wise ancestors you’ve never even met in this incarnation watching over your spiritual development. Each of them loves you and honour all the spiritual work you’ve done in this incarnation. The ripples of your lightwork go beyond what you can comprehend at this moment.

Listen carefully with your pretty heart~ Your ancestors and Spirit Guides are currently very active in guiding you towards your most exciting chapter yet! Stomp forward confidently, babes~!

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Let’s Go Far Away! Far From All the Dra-mama-mama~

s h e d d i n g – Queen of Pentacles Rx

You are not taking anybody else’s karma as yours anymore. You’re done. Fucking done with spiritually taking care of everybody who isn’t even aware of their bullshit karmic load. And on top of that, you’ve been known that these fuckers ain’t ever gonna be grateful anyway. So, why should you bother? You learnt the hard way, didn’t you? Now you’ve truly become a spiritual boss bitch. You ain’t vibing with Love and Light anymore—not like that, at least. You understand now that the whole ‘love and light’ consciousness has been weaponised to neutralise the power of those who can defeat EVIL consciousness.

Now, you understand people are fully responsible for their own healing; for how they react to what’s happening around them and for their own choices. Even their points of view are theirs. You’re not participating in anybody else’s drama anymore. No amount of empathy will ever make you stupid again. That was your decision quite a long time ago and now that resolve has become SOLIDIFIED. Welcome back, spiritual gangster. You’re YOU again~ Now, we watch you quantum jump into your greatest abundance Reality yet!

t r a n s f o r m i n g – 9 of Pentacles Rx

I feel like you’ve been in isolation of sort for quite a while, right? Or at least, there’s a clear indication that you’ve not been in communication with too many people. Your ancestors gave you that push to be alone and to clear your aenergetic field from a lifetime’s worth of bullshit you’d absorbed from other people. During this time, you were shielded from further psychological attacks from your environment. But at the same time, you were also being given clear guidance about your next steps.

Your visions and daydreams are not random, so this Full Pink Moon is giving you more reasons to believe all of your gut feelings about your place in the world—about what you’re put on Earth to pursue and manifest. When you’re excited, make sure you share your good news with ONLY those you feel are vibrationally safe to share with. People you know won’t have any business being envious of your progress. Otherwise, keep moving on in silence, dear ghost~ You’re about to become reborn into real riches!

g l o w u p, BITCH – 6 of Wands Rx

The whole aenergy of this Pile is abundance and material riches. I’m being told, you’re building a massive Empire that’s based on real spirituality. An empire that will serve a great number of people and how that contributes to not only your material security but also to the prosperity of all involved with your projects/spiritual work in the future. With that said, your success is needed by the world! You’d better believe there’s no force on Earth strong enough to mess this up.

Your ancestors, in fact, have been setting you up for this success for literally aeons. Even from the aethers they’re still very much actively making this happen. It’s a family project, babe~ You’ve got important codes stored in your DNA—you bloodline is special. One way or another this will continue to get revealed to you through various means your ancestors can think of ;P Your physical beauty, physical prosperity, physical safety and everything is quantum jumping into a much higher octave of Reality.

You’ve set up the foundation well. You’ve sacrificed a lot with so little guidance. Congrats again, welcome Home to 5D Consciosuness~!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Hello? Ordering From Future Express~

s h e d d i n g – Page of Pentacles

You’ve been in the process of learning (or preparing) for a big change in your Life. This Full Pink Moon, if anything, is just indicating that you’re ready to mingle in the higher level of whatever you’re graduating from. Rather than becoming a student, you’re becoming an actual employee, worker, or expert at this thing you’ve been studying/preparing for. You have a lot of knowledge that’s ready to be shared by those who can benefit from your work. So, congrats~!

Of all the Piles, I sense your journey thus far has been pretty much lighthearted. It isn’t to say some traumatic things haven’t happened, but no matter your age, you’re such a wise optimist. You’re the type that can always say, ‘Oh well, I did learn and gain valuable lessons from it.’ You have an awareness of your surrounding and the events that visit your everyday Life, so you’re not often bothered to the degree some of the other Piles are XD

t r a n s f o r m i n g – Knight of Cups Rx

I sense that many of you reading this have been in the active process of manifesting a new kind of Reality. You’ve daydreamed and fantasised a lot—too much, sometimes LOL But I’m getting that your heart is literally constantly pulled in that direction because you’re literally that close to manifesting this Reality. Of course, when we say ‘close’, some of you may wonder how that’s even possible because you don’t feel like you’ve done a lot.

But I’m being told that your manifestation is heavily ‘water based’, meaning it is highly based on the emotions produced during your daydreaming~ As long as you maintain the feeling, the optimism, the feel-good vibes from those daydreams, you’re GUARANTEED to get every single thing you’ve envisioned for yourself. I betcha you have significant Water sign placements or planets in Water Houses in your natal chart :D

g l o w u p, BITCH – 5 of Cups

I know that recently you feel like you’ve lost something important. Although you’re positive and optimistic, it’s only natural that people can still dwell in the negative emotions caused by the shock of any kind of loss. You can take your time. But also know that this Full Pink Moon is promising you a way to rebuild or rediscover in another form what you’ve lost. What’s been lost or broken will be renewed and you will be a lot happier.

By this, the general message is that you have so much good fortune and success in the future. It’s almost like, your daydreams have been ordered from the future express and delivered to your doorstep as feel-good thought-forms. For now, they may be only thought-forms, but you’re being directed to the right place, so don’t lose sight of those visions, OK? For the most part, I think most of you already know this—you just needed some kind of a validation ^o^v

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

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Pile 3 – Calm in the World, Lucky Girl~

s h e d d i n g – 7 of Swords

Ooohhh my lucky guuurl~ You’re the lucky Pile, but actually, you’ve worked really hard to increase your luck quotient in this world! Of all the Piles, you’ve transmuted a lot of karmic bullshit in your bloodline—things like toxic mindsets which were passed down by your elders. I think you’ve worked the hardest to transform yourself whilst carrying generational bullshit which you vowed would stop with you, because you wouldn’t want these mindsets or ways of living to be passed down to the next generations.

And in your case, I get that you’re not just thinking about your own bloodline; you’re also thinking about stopping these toxic ways of living and being for all people belonging to your generation and the next. You’re thinking global—you’re thinking cosmic. This Pile is definitely for those of you who identify as being a witch or a mystic or something similar in nature. You are now shedding ugliness. All the ugliness in the ways you were brought up.

t r a n s f o r m i n g – 9 of Cups

No matter when you come across this reading, within just a couple months your abundance level is going to visibly get better. This sense of abundance is going to be real—not just a mindset thing—it’s going to be physical. You’ve been working so hard for so long on the mental and spiritual level, and in many cases, you might’ve felt like your spiritual work hasn’t produced anything tangible at all. And this could’ve often dimmed your light and made you cry, because it felt like your struggles were never going to end.

You were going in circles, but babe, you were always spiralling up out of that hell that was created for you. I think you just didn’t realise that. The path was never straight; it was a spiral in which you were spiralling and meeting old wounds and healing them, but the whole time, you were spiralling UP! Okay? The exit is close. Dang, many of you tuning into this are already out! The real physical abundance is following along tightly. Look forward to this year’s Lion’s Gate, Wise Ones~! You’ll be surprised! <3

g l o w u p, BITCH – 10 of Wands

In the deck I’m using, 10 of Wands depicts an array of soldiers who’ve just finished warring. They’re back home now, exhausted, traumatised, needing a lot of care and ease after a long battle, and are probably still in a war mindset after being in it for quite some time, right? But the important thing is that they’re home; that the war is OVER. It is OVER. It’s peacetime now. You’ve just got to celebrate all you’ve done for your country (yourself) and relish in a good bowl of soup to soothe your aching heart.

Recuperation and relaxation are crucial for you right now. You need all the TLC you could give to yourself, so in that sense, if there’s somebody who could be of some assistance to you, don’t hesitate to ask for help so your Life can be a little easier. For the time being, you need to be taken care of. Sooner than later, you will be jumping into a different kind of an exciting bandwagon straight to your Destiny~ Then, you can help others~!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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[local-lamppost]

Something I've Been Reminded Of

Spoilers for Ch 86

Kicking off season 2 of Spy x Family we have the long awaited date of Loid and Yor-which was just lovely-and in that we got this line from Loid:

Of course, this is just him drastically missing the actual cause of Yor's poor mood, but Agent Twilight believes that he has made Yor cross with him for asking for help running the household. This is a marriage of convenience after all, not an actual partnership.

While it's never made the forefront of a scene, at least not in an overtly plot heavy way, Loid is often shown doing the majority of the house work. He cooks, cleans, helps Anya study, cares for Bond, etc. He'll even make sure that dinner is ready for Yor when she comes home late. Not to say Yor doesn't do anything, she's often shown preparing drinks and will help clean up now and then, but the implication is that Loid does 90% of the chores along with raising Anya, caring for Bond, his work as a fake psychiatrist, his work as an actual spy, along with whatever day trips/misadventures the family gets up to.

But he will not ask for Yor's help, because this whole thing is a marriage of connivence; it's 'for the mission'.

Then we get chapter 86. Twilight is hurt from a gun fight with his brother-in-law, has just faced a representation of his worst traits in Winston, and gotten into a "fight" with Yor which he has no idea the cause of. Loid has officially been pushed to the limit and the moment he gets home-the moment he feels safe-the sight of Yor smiling through the threshold causes him to collapse and ask:

And Yor:

Which shocks Twilight. He is at his lowest point and is expecting for Yor to actually get upset with him, under the impression that she'll see his need for help as a burden.

Yor has always been eager to help Loid, but never wanted to overstep this unspoken boundary they have. She isn't his actual wife, not actually Anya's birth mother. She's there to keep up appearances, it's not her place to be a wife helping her husband. She will still hesitate around Anya for actions that are unavoidably motherly. It's not her place, Loid is handling it even if he's struggling.

Which is why Yor is glad to be asked for help.

How many characters both acknowledge Twilight needs help and actually offer help? Let alone with no ulterior motives. WISE is under the impression that everything they ask is within Twilight's capabilities and even Franky, the only person in his life who could be considered a friend, needs to maintain a certain distance as to not arouse suspicion for either of them.

Yor's position as mother for the Forger family has granted her both the closeness needed to see how ragged Loid's been run, but also be in a position to offer help that can be reciprocated. The only thing holding her back has been Loid not asking for assistance and her being to worried for her position in the family to ask.

And now that Loid has reached out, Yor will do all she can to ease his burdens. Even with Twilight resolving to be better, to be the perfect spy he's been slipping from, I don't think Yor's going to let him go back to bad habits. He needs help, he's asked for help, she's going to help.

Yor is going to aggressively care for Loid, and through shenanigins break down those barriers of his.

[lunajay33]

Lost Part.2

•🗝️🕊️🩶•

Summary: Carl Grimes was your best friend since birth, when he died the world turns grey, he was your partner in crime so you shut yourself off from the world, no one could get through, until one day you’re wondering Alexandria seeing Negan in his cell, maybe he could be the one to break you out of this hell

Pairing: Negan Smith x f!reader

Content: Age gap, Depressing themes, Consoling, Spicy themes later on, breeding kink, character development

Part.1

•Masterlist•

After Michonne caught me having a moment with Negan, she told Daryl and now they’re ripping me a new one, I’ve never felt like I disappointed anyone more but I can’t help how I feel towards Negan, I don’t get to chose how I feel

Daryl and Michonne are pacing back and forth in the living room in front of me as I’m sat on the couch waiting for their outburst

“Damn kid what the hell were ya thinking? Ya know what he’s done” Daryl groaned

“I’m going to chalk this up to you trying to distract yourself from Carls death but…..”

“DON’T!” I cut Michonne off feeling that rage

“Y/n…..”

“Don’t talk about him, and don’t tell me how to feel, you don’t understand how I feel, Negan does….he’s helping me, I don’t feel extremely depressed when I talk to him, I thought I’d get better eventually but it’s been 2 months, hell Maggie got herself together quicker than this after Glenn, I don’t know what’s wrong with me” I feel my bottom lip wobble again hating the disappointed look

“Why can’t you let us help? Daryl’s tried, do you want Maggie to come back maybe she could talk some sense into you, see the reason why she doesn’t have Glenn anymore” Michonne huffed before she stomped out the house slamming the door

“I don’t like ya talking to him but…….i can’t watch ya go through this anymore, if yer just talking to him and it helps do it, just be careful sunshine” Daryl said more gently as he rubs my back

“Thanks D, I’m just gonna go to my room” I say defeated but at least Daryl was sort of on board, thankfully Michonne never brought up what she caught me and Negan doing, if so Daryl would’ve probably marched down to his cell and beat him black and blue

It’s been a week since everything happened, the first day after I got up to go see him and right as I got to his cell Michonne dragged me back to the house, she wasn’t as keen as Daryl was, I tried again the next day and the same thing happened, see even got Rick involved so now I’m basically under house arrest, by the third day I could feel that darkness seep back in, I continued to stay in my room, Daryl would occasionally bring me food and water just like now

“Hey kid, ya hungry?” He asks as he sits on the edge of my bed with a sandwich and glass of water

I nod feeling too tired to even speak, this was way out of character for Michonne, sure she could be a hard ass but this…..this was too much

“They still won’t let ya leave?” My silence answered his question hearing him sigh

“It’s happening again isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Negan was helping for a bit, I can’t think of anything else except Carl when I’m locked up in here” I say looking at the letter that I have placed on the night stand, he followed my gaze taking it and reading it

“Ya can’t keep reminding yourself of this over and over”

“I….i didn’t even get to say goodbye”

“Would seeing his grave help?”

I didn’t even know he had a grave, no one even told me but maybe seeing it and talking could help resolve something that’s been missing

“I know this might be a long shot but could I take Negan? Would you be able to convince Rick just for the day to let him out?”

He watched me for a bit with that look I can never decipher what he’s thinking

“I’ll try but I ain’t promising nothing, now come on I’ll walk ya to the cell”

I ate my sandwich on the walk to Negan and of course when we got there Michonne and Rick tried to stop me

“I’m telling ya Rick let her go, ya haven’t seen what I seen, she needs this” as they are arguing I slip past them down to Negans cell

“Hey” I call catching his attention

“Long time no see darlin”

“I’m sorry, if you can hear them you’ll know they’ve been keeping me under house arrest, I tried to come see you but…”

“I know, I heard everytime Michonne tried to stop you, I missed our talks though, I can see you have too”

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation last time, it’s partially been keeping me sane all locked up”

“Can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind baby, but you know I’d never use you right, I ain’t sick like that”

“I know, you’re different now hell I’m different now, I just wish you weren’t in this cell I’m working on it”

“What do you mean?”

“Daryl said I could go to Carls grave, I didn’t even know he had one until today, I asked if I could take you out for the day since I don’t feel judged with you, obviously only if you wanted, he said he’s gonna try to work something out”

“Oh sweetheart, you got a good heart but are you sure you want me out with you?”

“You don’t have to”

“No I want to, I wanna be there for you”

Just being here for a few moments have lifted that weight off my chest

Later that night everyone went to bed early and they left my door unlocked so I sneak out as quietly as possible, quickly making my way down the block to Negans cell and he was still wide awake, I unlock his cell and sit next to him his arms immediately wrapping around me

I sigh in relief to be able to touch him again, to feel his warmth, he moved me around so I’m partially laid against his chest and lap as he sat back against the brick wall playing with my fingers

“Have you tried anything since our conversation last week?” He asks breaking the silence my body feeling on fire instantly

“I still don’t know how”

“Want me to show you baby?” I look up at him feeling my legs tingle

“You’d do that?”

“I’d love it, you need to unwind, forget about your problems for a moment”

“Please, please help me forget” I whine feeling his hand rub up and down my thigh

“My pleasure” he smirks as he plays with the hem of my pants before pushing his hand fully down basically grasping my pussy

“Look at that baby girl, already wet and I’ve barely done anything” I can feel my face redden

“This is so embarrassing” I mumble hearing him laugh

“Nah baby, this is hot as hell, you’re being such a good girl” his praise eased me

His fingers circled my clit making me jolt it felt so foreign, everytime I’ve tried it’s felt like nothing but his strong hands touching me was so much more than I could imagine

“Oh god” I whine as he gets faster pushing me closer to the edge

“You like that angel? Do I make you feel good?” He teased as he grips my hair with his other hand

“Yes Negan! Oh it’s too much fuck” I gasp when he moves his hand down and enters a finger then another stretching me a bit with his big long fingers

“You okay darling?” He asks as he continues to finger me at a slow pace, doing a come here motion hitting a spot I’ve never felt before

“Woah, that feels…….oh god that feels different”

“Different good?” He goes a bit faster making me see stars as my head slumps against his chest

“So good, why does it feel better when you do it” I whine

“Cause I know how to please ya, this tight pussy just need a good man to clear your head, fix all your worries”

Something was building low in my stomach, it felt so weird but good but also like I was gonna lose control

“Negan wait I’m gonna…” but he kept going

“No baby it’s alright I’ve got you, let it go” his thumb came up to rub my clit again and I instantly let go feeling his hand wrap around my mouth as I let out a intense scream my sight going white, my pants felt soak as I came back down to earth laying limp in his arms

“Fuck baby, that was hot as fuck, you’re dripping” I sat up realizing what just happened, I look at him as he sucks his fingers clean making me hot all over again

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I told you something was happening now I made a mess and my pants are full of piss, I have to go” I turn to leave completely embarrased when I feel his arms wrap around me from behind

“Oh baby, you’re so damn cute, that’s normal and it’s so damn sexy, you just came all over my fingers and let me tell you, you taste like heaven” he whispers in my ear as I turn in his arms

“Are you sure this is normal…….it did feel really good couldn’t see for a second” he smirks gripping my hips

“If you think that was good baby, wait till I give you this dick, you’ll be begging for more after”

“Can we now?” I beg as I push him back on the bed straddling his hips

“As much as I’d love to destroy this pussy, I ain’t taking your virginity in some grimy cell where everyone can see and hear us”

“Okay, but what about you I can feel how hard you are, I can help” I say grinding down on him moaning as I feel his bulge rub against my sensitive clit

“Not tonight, tonight was about you”

“Well if I can’t help…..can I atleast see it?” I ask biting my finger aching to see his dick

“You ever see one before?” He asks laughing

“No please I wanna see it” I pull on his belt slowly undoing it waiting for him to stop me but he never does, unbuttoning his pants, we both stand so I can pull his pants down to his thighs, playing with the hem of his boxers

“Go ahead darling, he ain’t going to bite” he says gripping my hair, I pull them down seeing it smack against his stomach and my knees felt like jelly again, it was so big and thick it was mouth watering

“You like what you see”

“Can I touch it” I look up at him seeing his eyes were blown with lust

“Go ahead baby” I run my finger up the bottom till I reach the tip and circle it my finger wet with liquid, I bring it up and lick it and it tastes so good I want more hearing him groan as I do it

“Fuck you know what you just did?”

I shake my head I feel so clueless with all this

“God you’re going to be the death of me” I push him back down on the bed again and kneel between his legs

“Please I want more let me lick it”

“God how can I say no to that”

I lean down flicking my long over the tip tasting him again but I need more, I’ve heard others talk about blow jobs and this must be it, I take him in my mouth circling my tongue around hearing him hiss I look up but her looks like he’s enjoying it as he runs his hands through my hair

I take more of him in my mouth till he hits the back of my throat but I keep going till my nose is flush to his stomach moaning when I finally fit him in

“Jesus Christ baby” his moans drive me insane, I move my head up and down as his groans get more and more louder till I feel a warm liquid fill my mouth it’s surprises me, I lean back on my legs looking up at him with a mouth full of his cum, I swallow it feeling like ecstasy

“Was that your first time cause god damn woman I ain’t ever had my dick sucked like that”

“I want more, god Negan I could get addicted to this” he lets out a low laugh as he tucks his dick back in his boxers

“Oh baby what have I unleashed”

Part.3

Taglist: @lanadelnegan @lvrgirl6999 @aubiewabie33 @mordilwen-of-mirkwood @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @sadgenderfluidmaniac @aleemendoza2425-blog @donniedarkosblog @itsmytimetoodream @twisteduniverse5 @heidiland05 @negandevotee

[blkdaddie]

Empregnas University: Code Gold

I shifted in my seat as Professor Roca droned on. As a second-year law student class, it's important to have good notes but my concentration is shot today. The baby has been sitting low in my pelvis for a week with no signs of labor. At least I can breathe a bit better but a 10 lb baby plus sitting for hours is murder on my back. I feel the now familiar urge to pee, and ease my heft to my feet. Prof. Roca doesn’t miss a beat of his lecture – with almost 40% of our student body pregnant at any time they’re pretty easygoing about bathroom trips during class. I take a few shuffling steps, knowing my waddle has become exaggerated with this bowling ball of a kid between my hips, when I feel a sudden wetness. I try to waddle faster mortified that I’ve wet myself, when a contraction seizes me and I double over with a grunt. “Holy shit, Derek’s finally having his kid!”. If I weren’t in so much pain I would laugh; I realize the wetness is at my rear – my waters have broken.

Prof. Roca finally pauses his speech on the intersection of artificial intelligence and ethics, turning his attention to me with a sigh. “I really thought we’d get through one semester without a labor starting in class. Damn nuisance, these kids.”  I don’t know if he’s referring to me or the baby, but I’m too panicked to care. This baby feels like a boulder between my hips and I sink to my knees aided by a classmate,  Anthony. I distractedly notice he has a slight belly, and he’s clearly freaking out, probably imagining his own labor.  I’m too breathless to reassure him.

Prof. Roca crosses to an old-school landline phone on the wall and I understand why it’s still there when he picks up the receiver. “Code Gold, Memorial Hall Room 242. And send janitorial, he’s leaking all over the place.”

The pressure is immense. I feel like I’m floating outside of my body as I watch my belly warp from the force of my muscles all moving the baby down.   “Derrick, just sit tight for a minute, health center is sending someone with a wheelchair. Now, where were we…”  Professor prepares to continue his lesson but I can’t bite back the pained cry that escapes my lips. I have an overwhelming need to push, and start scrambling for the waistband of my jeans. “Um, professor, I don’t think he has a minute!”  Anthony awkwardly kneels beside me and I feel cool air against my ass as I push my pants lower. A couple of classmates who have delivered before rush to my side, but most sit there gawking. We all know anal birth is normal and natural but seeing it live and in person is some wild shit.   James, who I know had twins last year, probes to check my dilation, and Andre, who has a toddler, starts talking to me softly.  “Bro, you gotta focus. Quit screaming and breathe. Da fuck is wrong with you, coming to class like this?”  He shakes his head but looks resolved when James signals something from over my shoulder. “Next contraction, fuckin’ push.”    My belly hangs low and heavy as I sit back on my haunches, looking for any relief, but it’s futile.  I’m terrified but my body takes over. One push. Then another. Unbearable burning. On the third push the baby’s head is out and I can feel it wiggling. The sensation is surreal but I don’t have time to ponder. I bear down again and the baby slides out into James’ hands. I feel a sudden physical emptiness but my heart is bursting when I hear a mewling, then a cry. My classmates help me lie back; I’m shivering as I come down from the adrenaline high, but my grasp on my wet squawking baby is confident and secure. Professor Roca gives up, slamming his laptop shut. “Forget it. Class dismissed. See you on Thursday.”

[nebulaafterdark]

More Than Anyone Pt. 3

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

More plot than porn this time.

Part 1 | Part 2

It has been some months since the Driftmark debacle. Y/N is growing by the day, about halfway through her term. Aegon delights in holding her close, with her back to his chest. Stroking a gentle hand over her baby bump.

He hesitates for a moment before he speaks. “There is something I’ve been meaning to run past you.”

“Mmm.” Y/N is nearly asleep. Comfortable, happy and he is about to ruin it all.

Aegon breathes a sigh of relief, “it will keep till the morrow.”

“But now I am curious, you must tell me.” Y/N insists.

“My mother wants to organize a hunting party for Laenor’s seconds name day.” Aegon tells his wife. They had a similar celebration for their daughter’s second name day. Where their son, Laenor, had subsequently been born, in a tent with only Aegon’s help.

“This does not please you?” Y/N smirks, “I promise not to give birth this time.”

“She wishes us to name him our heir, during the procession.”

“Laenor is our thirdborn child.”

“He is our firstborn son.”

Y/N purses her lips, “the Iron Throne is Dahlia’s birthright.” She had come into the world first, followed quickly by Visera a few moments after.

“I am advised by the small council-”

“Alicent brought this matter before the small council?” Y/N’s cheeks begin to burn.

“In the interest of the realms, my dearest love. This would help strengthen the reign of house Targaryen.”

“My mother named me.” Y/N reminds him. “Not Jacaerys, Lucerys or Joffrey. Even at the births of the children she shares with Daemon, never did she spurn me.”

“And you will make a fine Queen.” Aegon tells her.

“Then why not our daughter? What makes you think she will be unfit to lead?”

“We are toying with centuries old tradition, a dangerous game, under which we all will be crushed if it falls. I have no taste for duty. I could not care less about a stupid chair made of swords or who sits it. What I give a damn about is you. Our children. Leaving behind a safe place for all of them to live, truly live. If Laenor wearing the crown is all it costs, how could I be opposed?”

“This is much bigger than that and you know it.” Y/N pushes away from him, gathering her dress.

“In what way?” Aegon demands, settling at the edge of the bed.

“Look at the scene in its entirety before deciding on which side you fall.” Y/N brushes past him.

“Tell me then, what do you see that I do not?” Aegon catches her hand.

“I see,” Y/N trails off, staring down at their joined fingers. The metal of her wedding band stares back, taunting her. “I see a better future. One we cannot hope to achieve while the present stands. I had hoped you might sculpt it with me, or at the very least, hold my fucking hand.” She pulls away.

Aegon sighs, “where are you going?”

Y/N laces up the bodice of her dress with little care. “I need a moment to think.”

“I do not wish you to leave angry.”

“I am not angry, Aegon.” Y/N murmurs. “I am hurt. There is a difference.”

————————————————————————

Y/N moves about the Red Keep restlessly. Only servants and guards walk the grounds so late.

“What has you wondering the castle at this hour, little bird?” Daemon. He is the only one ever to call her that.

“I am,” Y/N is lost for words. Or perhaps she is just, “lost.”

Daemon shifts against the pillar upon which he sits. “That is unlike you. Of all my children, I worry for you the least.”

“Aegon and I are at an impasse.”

“That is marriage for you.”

“We do not agree on a line of succession.”

“Mmm.” Daemon hums, “that is a tricky one. Good thing you are not required to name an heir just yet. Not until you inherit the throne and that will be a number of years. Long after I’m gone…and your mother.” The words are slow to pass his lips, as if they pain him.

“Alicent is pushing-”

“Push back.” Daemon replies, flippantly. “You are the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Heir to the Iron Throne.”

“So instead of resolving this issue I should ignore it in favor of starting a separate issue with the Queen?” Y/N begins pacing in the corridor.

“Aegon may not rank high on the list of people I’d save first from a burning building; but he does adore you. Be firm, put your foot down and do not lift it. He will bend to your will in time, he has done so before.”

“I do not wish to manipulate him into doing my bidding.”

“You believe that Aegon has never manipulated you?”

Y/N wraps both arms around herself. Perhaps he has, would that change the way she feels about him? “I don’t believe he has.”

“Marrying you benefited him tremendously, it boosted his favor amongst the King and the value of his words in court. Perhaps he does love you, that is fine. But if he cannot stand against the snakes which whisper in his ear, then he is not the best match for you.”

“We could hardly annul the marriage now, we’ve children.”

“There are other ways.” Daemon smirks, “say the word and we could have you ready to remarry before the moon turns.”

Y/N isn’t sure what he’s implying but she knows no good will come of it. “That will not be necessary. Thank you for your wisdom, Daemon.”

“I will see you on the morrow, Princess. Chin up.”

Y/N loves her husband, different as he is. Aegon has his honor and she has hers. His heart is good, his intentions to grant their children peace are true. She can be patient as he learns that there is more than one way to provide that peace. She wonders for a moment if Aegon would find his way back to a pleasure house that night.

The Princess returns to her chambers, to the bed she has often forsaken in favor of his. Tossing and turning through the night until the sun peaks through her curtains. She dresses in a simple red gown, setting off to bid the children good morrow. Finding Aegon on the floor of their eldest daughter’s room.

Dahlia is still dreaming, back to her father. Y/N makes her way down to the floor, jostling Aegon’s outstretched arm. “Aegon,” she whispers, “Aegon.”

“Shh,” he quiets her, “lie with me.”

“What are you doing in here?” Y/N whispers, making herself comfortable on the rug.

“I could not find sleep, same as you.”

“Who said I could not find sleep?” Y/N says, indignantly. Allowing her husband to wrap her up in his embrace.

“You were here before the children woke and look every bit exhausted.” Aegon buries his nose in her hair.

Y/N traces patterns on the back of his hand.

“I do not wish to be at odds with you, I cannot bear it.”

Her heart seizes, “I need you, Aegon. I need you to stick up for me when others pour their honey in your ear. I need you to make decisions with me, not for me. I need you to stand at my side. Show the masses and our families that we are a united front, that we love each other.”

“I will do this for you.” Aegon vows.

“Thank you.” Y/N breathes a sigh of relief.

“Can you forgive me for being so short sighted?”

“Only if you can forgive me.”

“I could forgive you for anything. You are the love of my life.”

————————————————————————

“Prince Aegon is not in his chambers.” Talia informs the Queen.

“And we’ve checked the Princess Y/N’s apartments?” Alicent asks, fingers ticking nervously at her sides.

“Her rooms are also empty.” Ser Criston confirms.

“The children?” Surely they wouldn’t have taken off in the night. Y/N would’ve at least informed Rhaenyra. They wouldn’t dare be caught in the silk streets either.

“Princess Visera and Prince Laenor have been taken by their maids to break their fast with Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra.”

“Where is Dahlia?” Alicent demands.

“The Princess did not open her doors, the maid is not to enter until she does, by Princess Y/N’s authority. Yvette believes she still sleeps.”

“No.” The Queen shakes her head. “That is not like Dahlia.” She sets off immediately to her granddaughter’s rooms.

“Your Grace,” Talia trails after her.

“I will send for you if I require further assistance,” Alicent dismisses her, “thank you, Talia.” She moves through the corridor faster than what is appropriate, flinging open the doors of Dahlia’s quarters and rushing inside.

The little girl is awake, she waves to her grandmother. Sandwiched between her mother and father in the four post bed, both their eyes closed.

Alicent waves back, perturbed and confused at the state of things, but that is not her granddaughter’s fault. “What has happened here, my dearest love?”

“Mama and Papa were sleeping on the floor.” The girl explains. “I asked if they wanted to sleep in my bed too. Maybe they had a night terror.”

“Perhaps.” Alicent reaches over Aegon’s shoulder to card her hair. “Do you want to get out of there?” The tangle of limbs.

“No,” the little girl admits. “I quite like it here. Just don’t tell Visera and Laenor, they will be jealous.”

“This will be our secret then.”

Dahlia blinks at her. “Can I tell you one more secret?”

“Of course.” Alicent smiles.

“My Papa said I’m going to be hair.”

“That’s silly, isn’t it.” Alicent replies, quietly.

“Like Mama is her Mama’s hair.”

Alicent hopes her face does not display an ounce of her dismay. This is not a jest, or words exchanged during a childhood game. Aegon told Dahlia she is to be heir. Heir to the Iron Throne.

Part 4

Series Taglist: @sophiexoxsblog @alicentswife

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND TWO - PAIR

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a deal is made.

wc: 2k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, official first meeting, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, sassy touya again

note: idk how fake dating premises with plots are created like this took me a good 30 minutes of just straight thinking trying to figure out what is a plausible fake dating idea. anyway thank you for all the love on part one, hope you enjoy this part!! also overdue idea credit to @andypantsx3 who originally created a crown prince!touya piece (read it here!) that probably subconsciously inspired this entire series. thank you and hope you enjoy :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are greatly appreciated <3

Your maid’s face was whiter than her knuckles gripping the sides of her apron. 

“You have a caller, miss,” she informs you carefully, bowing slowly and failing to hide her trembling. “It is…”

“I am aware of who it is,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose between your pointer finger and your thumb. It’d been exactly one week since Prince Touya all but julienned the ego of your pasty-faced suitor and you hadn’t received so much as a letter of greeting from him since then. All you received once the dust settled were mixed expressions of disgust and awe, along with a shit-eating smirk from the royal currently waiting to be led into the drawing room. “My stepmother?” 

“At tea, miss, with the neighbors. She won’t be back for several hours.” You swear under your breath. With all other members of the family out of the house and your stepmother bragging about your prospects with the sought-after prince, you were on your own. 

“Send him in when the minute hand next strikes six. Tell him I’m in the bath, or something.” 

“As you wish, miss.” Your maid nods and promptly exits the room, leaving you slumped on the settee with no ideas but to beeline for the back doors and disappear among the trees of the garden. Hiking up your skirt and slipping into the yard, you’re careful to shut the door quietly behind you. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to see him, even though you didn’t; in truth, it was fear of what he might say to you or how you two may interact. How are you supposed to look at a man suspected of committing treason against the king, his own father, and upkeep the manners drilled into your head since birth? It seemed too great of a burden to bear, so you resolved to forget your problems and the stranger in your house by walking amongst the flowers, blue hydrangeas that continued to bloom despite the sweltering summer heatwaves. It’s calming, being alone with nothing but the greenery. As your fingers brush over the delicately clumped petals, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up stick-straight and you don't need to turn around to see why. 

“It’s rude to enter a lady’s house unannounced, Your Highness,” you say into the open air and hear him step out from behind a neighboring tree. 

“I believe I was announced, considering the shaken demeanor of your poor maid.” His voice is low and raspy, like he’d just woken up.  

“What if I was still in the bath?” 

“You’ll have to tell my maids what you use to dry your hair so rapidly,” he replies and you catch him slinking over to you from the corner of your vision, approaching you carefreely with his hands in the pockets of his coat. You don’t look at him yet; in your mind, he was like a monster under the bed. If you simply didn’t look at him, he’d go away. “Unless, of course,” his voice appears over your shoulder and goosebumps break out over your skin. Not yet. Don’t look him in the eyes yet. “You weren’t in the bath at all. At least, not recently.” 

“I’m not sure what gave you the right to invade my house and muse upon my bathing habits,” you counter, finally turning to meet his stare and willing yourself not to wither under it. He wasn’t close enough to feel his body heat, but the arrogance that radiated from his entire being was enough to make you sweat more than the bright sun. He considered you curiously, tilting his head to the side and narrowing those molten blue eyes that perplexed you so. You risk a glance at the scar tissue just under his eyes and chin, its deep purple color rumored to be the result of a fire accident while he was sent away. It unnerved you, but you still found the courage to stare back with consideration of your own, challenging him to say something else. His eyes narrow again for half a second before he brushes past you, walking further down your current path in the garden. 

“You were keeping me waiting,” he states simply. “Not to mention, I am royalty.” You freeze, keenly aware of the power of the man admiring your daisies. “I believe it is you who should be considered the rude one.” The teasing lilt in his voice is not lost to you, but you’re too dumbfounded by his bluntness to think on it further. 

“Argues the one who won my affections and then refrained from any means of communication for a week,” you point out with slight irritation, following him around the bend at a safe distance. He hums again thoughtfully, walking among the flowers like it was his property. Your tease falls from your lips before you can stop it. “Did His Highness run out of royal parchment to write his letters?” 

“Royal candle wax, actually,” he answers stoically, but you catch the mischievous shine in his eyes when they flick to meet yours. “Dreadful effort, trying to write without my beloved candle lit.” 

“Oh, and what is a prince to do?” You’re unable to hide the smirk that finds its way onto your face and he seems to notice your less-hostile demeanor, the faintest amusement breaking out on his features. Handsome features, you had to stop yourself from admitting. “I don’t understand,” you say after a deep exhale.  

“I believe the candle was a gift from my great-grandfather.” His eyes continue to look over the rainbow of petals lightly swaying in the breeze. “Terribly well-loved by my father and the court alike.” 

“No, Your Highness–”

“If this is to work, you must refer to me as Touya.” He’s still not looking at you. 

“That is precisely what I don’t understand.” You muster up what courage you could to close the distance between you two, crossing your arms to properly confront him. “What are you trying to play at, Your Highness? What is supposed to ‘work?’ With all due respect, I’d like to know now if I am one of your latest games to irritate your relatives.” 

“And what would you do if you were?” Shit. His attention moves from the flowers to your face and you’re met with the same cold, unwavering stare from the week prior. “What could you do, realistically, but play along? I am royalty.” 

“You needn’t keep reminding me, sir,” you mumble. “But before we continue, I feel you must know. I did not have the intention of entertaining suitors this season.” You catch one of the maids peeping from around the corner of a topiary and motion for her to prepare tea for you and your caller. 

“What were you doing at the presentation duels, then?” 

“Fulfilling the wishes of my stepmother,” you answer wryly. “Whatever plans you have devised, I am the wrong lady to assist in enacting them.”

“I imagine that, instead of participating in this season, you would rather be reading from the libraries of King All Might himself?” The Prince falls into step behind you while you make your way to the garden’s gazebo, fully furnished to accommodate callers. You sensed, however, this particular suitor would rather sit on the floor than at your family’s lofty dining set. 

“I’m surprised you understand,” you remark, neatening a stray napkin. When you look behind you, the prince is leaning his shoulder against the frame of the gazebo and observing you. Your manners somehow return, despite his lack thereof. “Do you prefer Earl Grey or green?” 

“Neither,” he replies immediately. “I don’t care for tea.” 

“Nor do I, but the servants will linger if we don’t give them a chance to gossip in the kitchen.” The prince’s eyes narrow once again only for a moment, like you said something unexpected. 

“In that case, tell them green.” You murmur his request to the nearest servant and the handful subtly eavesdropping politely excuse themselves back into the house, no doubt eager to relay what little information you and the prince had exchanged. 

“You still haven’t enlightened me on why, of all the ladies present at the duels, you chose to duel for my hand,” you begin as he takes his seat across from you and pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. “Especially when I am guaranteed to hinder any plans you have for–”

“You know nothing of my plans, as of yet,” he interjects. His face is carefully blank, seemingly too calm for your present situation. “Your reluctance to entertain suitors is exactly what is going to help me leave this kingdom.” 

“I don’t understand,” you reiterate. “Your Highness, I do not wish to be in this season at all.”

“I share the same sentiment. Here is my proposal that will, in theory, rid us of both of our stressors: I will court you and, on the night of my father’s ball where I will surely propose, I will disappear, leaving you with nothing but a broken heart and a humble reparation of $100,000. A percentage of which, I note, can then be used to book passage out of Musutafu and find those books from King All Might’s mythical library. Do you follow?” You don’t remember when your jaw fell open, but it takes significant effort to regain your composure. When you eventually register what the prince had just offered, your face burns from a feeling you had never experienced before. It was a mixture of shame and shock, but mostly…excitement? 

“You’re out of your mind,” you manage to force out. “I don’t think–How could we–It would never work!” What the hell was he thinking? 

“You don’t know that,” he answers coolly. Maybe he’s not thinking at all. Maybe the prince is an idiot. 

“But why not leave now? Why wait until the night of your father’s ball?” An unreadable look crosses over his face, one that makes your stomach turn. He fixes himself in a blink, though, and the sudden darkness that fell over the prince’s face is gone before you can comment on it. “I just don’t understand why you need my help doing this, Your Highness.”

“My father grows impatient,” he admits bitterly and when you meet his gaze, it’s burning. “He wishes to crown me as king within three month’s time, and I–” 

“You do not wish to rule,” you finish quietly, the realization clicking together in your mind. “By courting a lady, you force him to put off your coronation until you propose.” 

“By courting you,” he explains further, “I also guarantee that this affair will remain strictly one of business.” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. 

“You think that if a woman were to fall in love with you, she would reveal your true whereabouts?” 

“Women are fickle creatures,” he states simply. “You did not wish to fall in love this season, so you will not reveal my true whereabouts once I have faked my passing.” He sighs, pulling back the sleeve of his coat and checking the time on his watch. “It really is quite simple. Allow me to court you, stay silent about my disappearance, and be rewarded with $100,000.” 

“And if we’re caught? If this charade is revealed as a farce and your father declares you King the following day?”

“Doubt in my plans is the first step away from succeeding,” he concludes. An approaching servant with a fresh pot of tea momentarily takes your attention and the prince stands, bowing in farewell while you’re still frozen behind your teacup. “I do hope you’ll join me at the races tomorrow afternoon,” he drawls out your name once the servant places the pot on the small table. His voice drips honey-sweet poison, drawing you in even as your body screams at you to run. The message hidden beneath his words, however, is clearer than crystal. “But, in the case of your absence, I will assume my affections have been denied.” You stand, dipping into a graceful curtsy. As you rise, your words ring in your ears before you can stop them. 

“I look forward to our time together, Your Highness.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Afraid to Lose You (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | bit Angsty | Established Relationship | Soulmate AU Word Count: ~9k | AO3 Synopsis: The aftermath of an argument with a supernatural being was something no one ever prepared you for, much less if that supernatural being was someone you were romantically involved with. You figured it’d happen eventually, you just weren’t aware of how much it could hurt. [This is an instalment of my WereRoomies series. You don’t particularly need to read the other instalments to understand this, but it’ll add more depth to the story if you do, so I highly recommend it~]. Warnings: chubby/curvy MC · usage of the word ‘fat’ in a neutral/positive manner · mandatory Christopher Is Intense warning, but the reader is also Intense so it’s very mutual · couple arguments · they’re in love, your honour · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut) .

Author’s Note: i felt like portraying this side of our dearest pack parents. apologies in advance. special thanks to @cursed-mars-bars for reading this and sharing her thoughts with me💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments:  It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: oral [M.Rec] · fingering [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but the reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie.

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

It was rare for you and Chris to have disagreements, but they did happen. You’d argue sometimes, over small things that usually could be resolved by taking some time to cool down and talk it out after. It was usually fine.

What happened just a few minutes ago was completely unprecedented.

You weren’t really sure how it all got out of hand so quickly. It was probably the fact that Chris had arrived home from work at midnight, starving and tired out of his mind, the fact that you decided to talk about such a sensitive topic right then and there, right as he munched on a sandwich.

‘What if you turn me? Wouldn’t that be better?’ You’d had those questions on the back of your mind for a while now, mulling on the possibility of your boyfriend turning you into a werewolf, into what he himself was. To you, it made more sense, since you were essentially leading a pack with him. You being human, in your mind, made it so there were certain things you couldn’t do, or activities you couldn’t participate in, and, sometimes, you’d admit you got a bit insecure about it.

‘Absolutely not’, you’d never heard Chris say something so firmly, so incredibly serious.

For some reason, you got defensive, Chris got defensive, and at some point everything started escalating. If you thought about it in depth, it was probably the time of day, the fact that you were both tired. 

He was so stubborn, and, in that moment, whatever he told you felt just so diminishing, something he’d never ever made you feel, something he never did. Logically, you knew Chris valued you and your opinions, but tonight, it seemed like logic wasn’t leading his train of thought, nor yours.

‘What the fuck’s gotten into you? Why’s this suddenly a problem?’ He’d asked at some point, probably louder than he had intended to, and, it just made you answer louder in return. 

It wasn’t just suddenly a problem, it had always been a problem. Or, at least, it seemed like that to you right then, when you were talking to him.

‘I don’t want you to turn!’

‘And what if I do want to?!’ You’d countered, because, ultimately, wasn’t what you wanted what mattered most?

‘Are you out of your mind?!’

Chris never ever spoke to you like that, and maybe that was why you got defensive. 

‘So if I don’t do what you want I’m out of my mind?!’

‘That’s not what I said!’

It was a seemingly endless back and forth, an endless loop of both you and him further rubbing salt in the freshly open wound. Saying things you didn’t mean, in ways that were nowhere near appropriate, until you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“That’s it. I’m fucking leaving”, you took your phone and your keys, and it was just as you were putting your shoes on that Chris caught up to you.

“Where the fuck are you going?!”

“Away!” You turned to look at him. You weren’t really sure how to read the expression on his face. Angry? Tired? Annoyed? Hurt? You honestly couldn’t reason it too much, you were too preoccupied trying not to cry. Because you’d be damned if you cried right now. “Can’t stand being near you right now”.

“But–!”

“I said I’m leaving”, you interrupted him, still speaking louder than you normally would, but no longer shouting, at least. “I need space, Christopher”.

Chris didn’t follow you after you stepped out of your flat and slammed the door closed. You knew he wouldn’t, and you honestly didn’t want him to, it would’ve probably made everything so much worse.

You knew where you wanted to go, but there was no way you could get there at this time without a car. So you made your way to Changbin’s. If they turned you down you’d try someone else, but, even in the unstable state of your mind, you knew they wouldn’t.

So, as soon as you stood in front of Changbin’s door, you knocked. It was late, you were well aware of that, but there was only one person you felt like you could go to right now, and you were sure they wouldn’t hold it against you.

When Changbin’s girlfriend opened the door, hair mussed, wearing nothing but a nightgown, you hauled yourself at her, hugging her tightly and burying your face in the crook of her neck. You couldn’t stop the tears anymore, it was too late for that.

She was a bit taken aback, but she immediately hugged you back, mumbling a quiet, and very, very sleepy ‘Hey, honey, what’s wrong? What happened?’

You couldn’t mutter a single word, you just sobbed against her shoulder as she waddled back into the flat with you in her arms, closing the door quietly behind her.

When you finally managed to pull yourself away from her shoulder, she cradled your face in her hands, wiping your tears away, but they wouldn’t stop. “Baby, what happened?”

You just shook your head, hugging her again.

“Is Chris okay?” You heard Changbin mumble from somewhere behind you, and you shook your head again, not even looking at him, getting your friend’s shoulder drenched in your tears.

Changbin sighed, but he didn’t sound annoyed. If anything, it was a worried sigh. After a few moments of silence, you heard the front door open and close.

“He’s gone”, Changbin’s girlfriend mumbled, patting your shoulder. “Babe, talk to me. Can’t help you if you don’t”.

With a deep, shaky breath, you finally pulled yourself away from her shoulder so you could look at her.

Wiping the trail of tears on your cheeks, you mumbled, “I need a favour…”

Being in your mother’s house always made you feel safe. Which was why you always ended up here whenever you needed some time to disconnect from the outside world and think about things. 

Your mother didn’t even question why you’d appeared in her house in the middle of the night with one of your friends, she simply let you in and offered Changbin’s girlfriend a warm drink and essentially begged her to stay the night because ‘It’s really late, darling. You already drove all the way here, you should rest before you leave…’

You were honestly happy she took the offer. That night, when you finally made it to your childhood room, Changbin’s girlfriend slept with you, hugging you close in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.

On the way here, you’d told her the details of what had happened, of your argument with Chris, and she had been nothing but understanding the entire time. Even if you’d woken her up all of a sudden, she still drove you to your mother’s place when you asked her to, regardless of the time, and without any hesitation.

‘Call me if you need anything. Hm?’ was the last thing she told you the next day before she left, and you honestly couldn’t help but feel immensely grateful. Not only for her help, but for her friendship in general.

Three days had passed since then, and, as you stared up at the ceiling, way past midnight, with your eyes fixed on the spinning fan, you just couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling in your chest. 

This was the longest you’d spent without talking to Chris, and you quickly realised you absolutely hated it.

Whenever you felt like you needed to think things through and regroup your feelings you had always tried to pull yourself away from the situation, cool down, and then go back to face it head on and resolve the problem. However, what you hadn’t anticipated was how much you’d hate being away from your home, being away from Chris…

You honestly weren’t sure if it’d been worth it at all. All you’d felt these days was this all-consuming feeling of sadness, coupled with an immeasurable amount of longing. All that introspection you’d done during your stay here was quickly bringing you to the conclusion that things had blown out of proportion.

Turning to look at your bedside table, you stared at the journal you’d found this morning in the bottom drawer of your dresser. From things you’d dreamt, to things that had happened to you at school, to arguments with friends…Reading your thoughts from when you were little was a bit amusing, considering how all your problems from back then seemed so insignificant now. You enjoyed reading them regardless, though.

Taking your phone in your hand, you unlocked it and went to your messaging app. Your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you, re-reading the messages Changbin and Seungmin had sent you this morning.

> BroBin💪: i’m sure you have a very valid reason to not be here > i know it’s only been like 2 days > and i know it’s none of my business > but chris is absolutely miserable  > and i just can’t bear seeing him like that > if you asked for space i doubt he’ll reach out to you first > so i’m literally begging you to please consider talking to him

Of course Changbin was worried about Chris. He always was, and you wholeheartedly understood him, but Seungmin’s messages were the ones you’d been mulling over the most.

> Seungminnie🐶: mama > u dont have to respond and i know u prolly wont > no one has said anything > but i noticed ur not here > and christophers moping > are u not talking? > u should talk to him if thats the case > itd be really bad if you dont > i think theres something you should know…

These messages had been staring at you all day. You hadn’t really replied to Changbin, nor Seungmin–just like he’d predicted.

You’d admit you tended to isolate yourself when you needed a breather, even from friends. It was just insanely hard for you to reply to them, maybe irrationally so–not something you were proud of by any means, you were just overwhelmed.

Seungmin’s revelation had been roaming freely in your head since you read his messages… To top it all off, Chris was miserable, and you weren’t that much better, so what was the point of all this? 

Going back to your recent chats list, your finger hovered over your conversation with Chris, and you suddenly felt a knot form in your throat just at the sight of his name. That was enough for you to know it was time, you just couldn’t keep running away from this, so, with a racing heart, you clicked on his chat and quickly sent him a few messages, all before your own self-doubt made you recoil.

&lt; You: i’m sorry < for the things i said < you didnt deserve that

Not even twenty seconds after you sent those, you received Chris’ reply, so you replied as well.

> Chris 🐺💕: mind if i drop by ?

&lt; You: no i dont mind

> Chris 🐺💕: be there in around an hour

&lt; You: i’ll be in the backyard with joaquin < just fyi in case you ring the bell and i dont answer < you can just text when youre here

It was a forty-five minute drive from the den to your mother’s house, and that was not accounting for any possible traffic. Just thinking that Chris was making his way to you as soon as you gave him the go-ahead made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It reminded you that, ultimately, Chris would always respect your boundaries, he’d always lookout for you, and you honestly wanted to cry just thinking about it.

So, you got out of that bed as fast as you could and ran to your bathroom to take the quickest shower you possibly could. You’d honestly barely left your bed the entire time you’d been here–something your mother did comment on, but any of her efforts to get you out of your room were futile.

That shower made you feel as if you’d been reborn. People truly underestimated how a good shower could immensely improve your mood, yourself included. So, with a fresh pair of shorts and the oversized t-shirt you kept in your childhood room’s dresser, you finally made your way to the backyard, and sat on one of the chairs to watch Joaquín chase squirrels around.

Joaquín was your mother’s dog, whose favourite pastime was chasing rodents of all kinds. She adopted him from a shelter around five years ago, so you really didn’t know which breed he was–if any. He was a big dog, with black and brown coat, short haired, and probably one of the friendliest dogs you’d ever met–although, if you thought about it in depth, wouldn’t your boyfriend and your friends be the friendliest dogs you’d ever met? You just chuckled at the thought.

As soon as the one hour mark since you received your boyfriend’s texts passed you started to feel antsy. You’d glance at your phone every couple of minutes, or fiddle with the loose threads of the table cloth in front of you.

You started to worry, too. What if something had happened while Chris was driving here? What if he had an accident and the last thing you did together before it happened was have an argument? What if–

Suddenly, Joaquín bolted out of your sight, and you heard him barking as well as the undeniable sound of your boyfriend’s gentle voice trying to calm him down. “Hey there, buddy. It’s been a while, huh? Shh, yeah, yeah. It’s just me. Yeah, I know you’re excited, but tone it down a bit. You’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood at this rate…”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face as you heard them talk to each other–as much as Chris talking to your mother’s dog and Joaquín barking at your boyfriend could be considered having a conversation. 

Just as you were about to walk back into the house, you heard a thud, and Joaquín quickly made his way to where you were, panting and wagging his tail.

Your boyfriend appeared seconds after, which immediately made Joaquín turn his attention back to him again.

“Hey”, Chris gave you a small smile, and it honestly made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey”, you watched as he instructed Joaquín to go play and give you two some space, to which the dog immediately complied. “I could’ve just met you at the front door, you know? No need to jump over the fence”.

 “Very true, but then I wouldn’t have been able to play burglar and dog with Joaquín”, Chris chuckled.

Silence enveloped you, and you simply took in the sight of your boyfriend. He was wearing one of his hoodies, a cap, and some gym shorts, the first items he probably found in the closet before coming here. Most worrying, though, was how pale his face looked.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” You couldn’t help but ask, the bags under his eyes and his overall complexion looked just like they did when he pulled an all-nighter, but somehow much worse.

Chris shrugged. “Have you?”

You hadn’t.

You’d been sleeping horribly.

Every time you tried to sleep you felt like something was missing, and anxiety made your heart feel heavy in your chest. If you did manage to fall asleep, you’d wake up a few hours after, mindlessly seeking your boyfriend’s body heat and finding none of it, which only fed that feeling of uneasiness that had clung to every fibre of your body.

“Not really, no”, you answered with honesty, because there was no point in hiding it. It was clear that you both were having a bad time, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty. “I’m sorry”.

“I’m sorry, too”, Chris replied simply, taking a step closer to where you were standing, clearly trying his best to not invade your personal space. 

It was so weird. Having Chris so physically distant to you, on purpose, was something you weren’t used to anymore, and the more he stayed rooted on the spot, the more you yearned to be enveloped in his warmth, in his scent.

So you took tentative steps towards him, all while Chris just looked at you with the saddest look in his eyes, resembling a kicked puppy. The only other time you could remember seeing this look on Chris’ face was the night you found out he and the rest of your friends were werewolves, right after you’d finished your confrontational conversation in the landing between floors, right after you told him not to follow you when you left.

“I shouldn’t have…spoken to you like that. I really am sorry”, you finally stood in front of him, but not as close as you wished you were.

“I shouldn’t have, either. I was exhausted that day, I let panic flood my brain, and I was being irrational”.

You couldn’t bear the distance anymore, so you reached for him, taking a hold of the front of his hoodie with an admittedly trembling grip. That simple gesture was all it took for Chris to finally move, to finally wrap his arms around your frame and hold you tight against his body. His sigh of relief didn’t go unnoticed, just like the way his muscles seemed to relax as soon as you were within his arms didn’t.

Relief washed over you immediately, especially when you buried your face in the crook of his neck, when you got that faint whiff of sea air that seemed to always emanate from your boyfriend.

“Pretty…” Chris cradled the back of your head, softly caressing your hair, holding you close. “You know I’d give you the world. Anything you asked me for…But this is something I won’t do, and that I beg you to not ask anyone else to do. It’s not certain you’d survive the turning process, and that’s a risk I’m just not willing to take”.

You hummed, moving your hands from his chest to instead wrap your arms around his waist so you could hold him tighter.

“I know you…can get in your head sometimes with this, but trust me, human you is just as adequate as a possible werewolf you. Why risk your life when you’re already perfect just as you are? I just…” Chris’ voice broke a little bit. It made your heart ache and a knot formed in your throat. He tightened his hold, taking a deep breath. “I can’t lose you, baby. I just can’t…Especially if it’s over something that can be avoided”.

“You won’t…” You mumbled against his neck, pressing a quick kiss on his skin. “You’re right…I was in my head. Overthinking…”

Chris hummed, and he pressed a kiss on your temple. “I’m still sorry for how I talked to you”.

“Me, too”, you rubbed your forehead on his shoulder, getting drenched in the smell of your shared home, in the smell of him. “I love you…”

Chris pulled away from you to cup your cheeks. The warmth of his palms on your face almost made your shiver, the soft drag of his thumbs over your skin had your heart beating fast in your chest, and the way he was looking at you, with his pretty eyes all glossy, as if you held his world in your hands, had tears collecting in your eyes.

“I love you. So much. You’re my everything, you know?”

You just nodded, and the second Chris’ lips were on yours you just couldn’t contain the soft whimper that came out of your throat.

Bringing your hands from where they had been wrapped around Chris’ middle, you took his cap off, held it in your hand, and buried the other in his slightly damp hair in one swift movement. Chris hummed, clearly relishing the tender caress of your fingers on his scalp. His tongue made contact with your bottom lip, and you immediately parted your lips to let him into your mouth.

With his hands on the small of your back, Chris simply held you close as he ravished your mouth, almost like he needed to kiss you to keep his heart beating, just like you did. It might’ve been three days, but those three days seemed to have lasted a lifetime, and now that you had your boyfriend’s warmth surrounding you again, you honestly couldn’t care about anything else.

Chris detached his lips from yours, only to reattach them to your cheek, pressing tender kisses on your skin. “Missed you so much, pretty…”

He said those words in a way that made it seem like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and you wholeheartedly shared the sentiment. “Missed you, too, baby…”

“Come back home”, he mumbled against your cheekbone before pulling back. He cupped one of your cheeks in his hand, while the other remained on the small of your back. “Our bed just feels so empty and cold when you’re not there. I hate it”.

“I will”, you replied simply, leaning into his tender touch. “Tomorrow, though. It’s too late, baby, and you’ve barely had any sleep. Let’s stay here tonight?”

Chris hummed, pressing a brief kiss on your lips. “Sure. As long as I get to hug you to sleep tonight I don’t care where we stay”. 

Chris sent Minho and Changbin a quick message, letting them know he was here with you, and to not turn away any packmate that might need some alpha support tonight–you doubted there’d be any, but it was good they were prepared just in case. You honestly didn’t like that both you and Chris had to be away, but when Minho replied to Chris’ message with a simple ‘👌’ you felt immediately at ease.

“Is your mum sleeping?” Chris asked as soon as you were stepping back into the house, getting out of his shoes. 

You shook your head. “She’s not even home. She went out with her friends and had a bit too much to drink, so she’s staying with one of them”.

“So it was just gonna be you and Joaquín in this big house?” Chris turned to look at Joaquín, just as the dog made his way to the sofa. “You would’ve protected my girl if anything happened, right?”

The dog huffed, jumping on the sofa, turning a few times only to finally plop down on one of the ends, on his usual sleeping spot.

Chris just chuckled, shaking his head.

“What’d he say?” You took a hold of your boyfriend’s hand, offering a ‘Good night, Joaco baby’ to your mother’s dog after you sent her a quick text and went through the motions of switching the lights of the living room, right when you walked past him on your way to your room. 

“Essentially that he’d die for you”, Chris held your hand tighter. “And that he was happy to see you smile again”.

As Chris had explained it to you, animals didn’t really communicate with words. They gestured, their scents would change, and there was just something in their body language that made it so they could understand each other. It was funny to think that your boyfriend could hold conversations with your mother’s dog like this, especially when you knew that the only reason he was verbally talking to him, with human language, was because Chris wanted you to not feel left out, which you appreciated.

As soon as you made it to your room, you got out of your shorts to sleep only in the tee you were wearing like you usually did. After you pulled back the covers, you laid as close to the wall as possible, leaving enough room for your boyfriend. This bed was smaller than the one back home, so it’d be a tight fit, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind, just like you didn’t–if anything, tonight, you wanted zero space between you and Chris. You’d had enough of that the past three days.

Chris pulled his hoodie over his head, and he haphazardly placed it on your desk. He joined you on the bed after, immediately pulling you against his chest. 

“Sleeping in shorts? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?” You couldn’t help but comment, chuckling a little as you started to caress his back.

Chris laughed, the sound a bit muffled against your hair. “I don’t know…being butt-naked at your mum’s doesn’t feel right”. 

“Mm…It’s the first time you’re sleeping here, isn’t it? Hadn’t realised”.

Chris hummed, absentmindedly playing with your hair. “First time laying on your childhood bed”.

“It’s more than a childhood bed at this point. I was sleeping here until I moved to your den”, a minute shiver shot down your spine when your boyfriend sneaked a hand under your shirt, slowly dragging it from your hip to your waist, where he settled to lightly squish the soft roll that usually formed there.

“Our den…But still”, Chris pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you scooted closer to him, relishing the drag of his hand over your bare skin. “Missed squishing you, pretty”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s why you asked me to be your girlfriend, right? To be your own personal stress ball?”

“Mm. That, and because of your child bearing hips, and this scrumptious fat ass”, he moved his hand from your waist to your bum, patting it lightly, giggling.

“What about my thighs, though?”

“God, don’t mention your thighs. I’ll pop a chub”. 

“Ah, of course”, you brought your hand behind him to squeeze his buttock. “You’re just like me, then”. 

“See? That’s why we’re perfect for each other”, there was a playful tone in his voice, but you knew that under all his jokes, laid some real feelings, some very deep feelings that you were sure matched your own. 

You pulled yourself from his chest to look him in the eyes. A soft smile settled on your lips, and you brought a hand to his face so you could lightly drag your fingertips from his forehead, down the curve of his nose, only to finally catch on his plush bottom lip. “You know…I was reading my childhood journal…I used to write my dreams in that diary. I had forgotten so many of them, honestly. Most of them were all nonsensical shit, but…there’s one that was quite interesting. Wanna hear about it?”

Chris nodded, taking a hold of your hand to press kisses on your palm.

“So, started with me in the foyer putting my shoes on before I left the house. I ended up walking for a long time, until I found myself in a forest. There were faeries flying all around, gnomes mining rocks, leprechauns protecting pots of gold… It was fascinating. It felt like I was walking for hours, until I finally made it to a stream, where I found a wolf. And it was like this wolf and I just…knew each other. It laid down on the grass and I laid down as well, propping my head on him, like it was the fluffiest pillow. Kinda like we do sometimes at home when we’re cold, you know?”

Chris just hummed in confirmation, dragging his lips from your palm to your wrist, where he also pressed a few lingering kisses.

“Knowing what I know now, I’d like to think that wolf was you…” You continued, placing a hand on his chest. He was so warm and his heart was beating so fast–faster than usual… “Like it was you meeting me in my dreams before we even knew what we’d mean to each other”. 

“That’s…literally so cute, baby”, Chris mumbled against the skin of your wrist, before he finally pulled it towards his chest, bringing it close to your other hand.

“You’re the wolf of my dreams, Christopher”. 

Chris giggled a bit, averting your gaze and biting his lip, looking incredibly adorable once a rosy flush started spreading on his cheeks. You couldn’t help but giggle with him, leaning in to press a brief, lingering kiss on his lips.

“So…Did I miss anything while I was gone?” You asked as soon as you pulled back from the kiss, and Chris sighed, bracing himself for what he was about to tell you.

Apparently, when Changbin left you and his girlfriend in his flat, he’d gone to Chris, knowing he’d be having a bad time. They fought, or, at least, Chris was trying to pick a fight. He seemed to be embarrassed about it now, but he was grateful that Changbin dropped by to check on him regardless, it did help him calm down a bit.

The rest of the pack clearly knew something was wrong, but no one brought it up to Chris, which he was kind of grateful for, but also annoyed by. ‘If they don’t talk to me, it means they’re talking to each other behind my back, which means they were probably feeding all these crazy theories in their heads, you know how the kids are…’

Nothing really out of the ordinary happened besides that. Felix and Hyunjin’s partner dropped by, and apparently also gave Chris a pep talk. ‘Let’s talk alpha to alpha, they said’, Chris chuckled, recalling how she was somehow trying to help him reason his feelings, but scolding him at the same time because he’d hurt you.

You honestly weren’t sure how long you spent talking to Chris, and you honestly didn’t care much, either. You just loved to listen to him speak, and just the mere sound of his voice and his warmth all around you was immensely soothing. It all made your eyes droop and your head sink further into your pillow.

“Baby…” Chris mumbled against your hair after a few moments of silence, and you simply hummed to let him know he had your attention. “I’d like to…feel you. If you’re fine with that”.

Your boyfriend was a big fan of physical contact, especially skin-to-skin contact, which was very convenient for you, considering you also loved to feel him against you at any given moment. So you pulled yourself away from him, pulling your t-shirt over your head and throwing it somewhere by the end of the bed to quickly snuggle back within Chris’ arms.

As soon as you tucked your head under his chin, and your skin made contact with his, Chris sighed. A sigh of relief that perfectly matched your own, followed by a sleepy murmur of ‘That’s more like it. Love you…’

With your boyfriend’s arm under your neck, curled around your shoulders while the other hugged your waist to keep you tight against him, with your legs intertwined as comfortably as you could, laying close to each other on your much too small bed, you finally let Chris’ body heat and overall presence lull you to sleep.

The second you woke up the next morning and felt your boyfriend’s warmth against your back and his strong arm around your waist, you truly felt at ease. You had noticed it was hard for you to sleep without him there, but you hadn’t fully grasped just how much until now. 

Taking his hand in yours, you brought it close to your face so you could leisurely press kisses on his fingertips and his palm. It was crazy how much you’d missed Chris in such a short amount of time, but here you were, feeling as if it’d been weeks. It honestly puzzled you a bit, but you couldn’t think too much about it, not when the soft presses of your lips on your boyfriend’s hand seemed to have woken him up.

“Morning…” He mumbled, shuffling a bit to mould his body completely against yours.

“Morning, baby”, you mumbled back, letting go of Chris’ hand when he started to move it away from your face so he could rest it on your belly.

“What time is it?” Chris nuzzled his face on your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but chuckle and squirm a little when his hair tickled your skin with the movement.

“Dunno”, the blackout drapes over your windows made it so you truly had no idea what time it was, and you hadn’t even checked your phone since you texted your mother last night to let her know Chris was here. You honestly didn’t even know where you left it.

Chris just hummed, holding your belly a bit tighter and starting to leave kisses on the skin of your shoulder, effectively kickstarting the butterflies in your stomach, and prompting the next words to come out of your mouth.

“Is it too soon to have makeup sex?”

You heard Chris giggle behind you as soon as you asked the question, and the sound alone made you smile.

“You know if it’s up to me, it’s never too soon for any type of sex”, Chris pressed his crotch further against your ass, letting you feel just how hard he already was. “But I don’t wanna be disrespectful”.

“To whom?” You chuckled, laying your hand on top of his on your tummy.

“To you, silly”, he pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “And your mum. This is her house, after all”.

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. “So that time we came over for her bimonthly barbeque and you sat me on the bathroom counter to eat me out wasn’t disrespectful?”

“That was different!” Chris laughed, nuzzling your shoulder.

You turned in his hold so you could lay face to face next to him. “Mhm, tell me how?”

As soon as he looked at you, Chris went serious. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he didn’t say anything. Not until he cupped your cheeks and squished them together with his palms.

“Holy shit. You’re so cute”, you felt heat pool on your cheeks as soon as the words left his mouth. He squished your cheeks further, forcing a pout to form on your lips. “How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

“Babe…” You whined, suddenly feeling bashful under his sparkly gaze.

In an instant, Chris’ lips were on you. He pressed kisses all over your face, making you giggle and squirm a bit in his hold. “God, I don’t wanna wake up without you next to me ever again. I’m so fucked”.

“Hopefully you won’t have to”, you mumbled, melting as soon as your boyfriend pressed a kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully not”, he said simply, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you flush to him.

Chris moved, taking you with him for you to lay on top of him. You shuffled a bit, straddling his hips to lay more comfortably when his lips attached to your neck, kissing and nibbling on your pulse point.

His hands roaming your back, your sides, your ass, squeezing your soft flesh anytime he could, his lips and his tongue on your neck, his unmistakable scent, everything combined had shivers running up and down your spine and butterflies flying freely in your belly. Without even thinking twice about it, you rolled your hips, making Chris groan with the pressure of your centre against his length, and he detached his mouth from your skin immediately.

“Fuck…Yeah. Yeah, we can have makeup sex. Let’s have all the sex. Every sex”, his rambling made you laugh, and you pressed a brief kiss on his forehead before you moved.

Shuffling further down his body, you attached your lips to Chris’ neck. Right now, you felt like you needed to kiss him. Anywhere and everywhere. You wanted to feel his heated skin under your lips, your hands, your body…You just wanted to feel him, so you didn’t hold back.

Slowly, leisurely, you took your time savouring Chris’ body, leaving trails of kisses from his neck, to his chest, his stomach, his tummy…All as he sighed and hummed contently, as he buried his fingers in your hair when you stopped at the waistband of his shorts, focusing on the barely perceptible freckles that littered his skin, making sure not to leave a single one unkissed.

“Can I take these off?” You mumbled, hooking your fingers under the waistband of his shorts.

Chris just hummed, taking them off himself and throwing them right where your t-shirt had landed last night. As you suspected, he wasn’t even wearing underwear.

“You drove all the way here just in your shorts?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, settling yourself between his legs, running your hands up and down his thighs.

“‘Course I did. Had no time to put on an extra item of clothing when the prettiest girl told me I could come over”, Chris grinned at you, and you grinned back, shaking your head from side to side a bit, mumbling an ‘Unbelievable…’

The grin disappeared from Chris’ face the moment you took him in your hand, teasing him with soft strokes that instead had him closing his eyes and sighing. Your boyfriend loved to have his way with you, and you loved letting him get away with it. But, sometimes, you also wanted your fun, and he was more than ready to let you indulge.

You continued your motions, not only the motions of your hand, but the previous motions of your lips, pressing kisses on any freckle on his tummy, and even on his length, simply relishing the taste of his skin. Until you just couldn’t wait any longer, until you couldn’t stop yourself from licking a long stripe from the base of his cock all the way to his head, all so you could finally take him in your mouth.

Chris swore under his breath, bringing a hand to the back of your head, not really moving you, simply caressing your hair, taking in the sight of his length going in and out of your mouth, mumbling. “You’re always pretty, but you certainly look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, baby…”

You just hummed in response, ignoring the heat you felt spread on your face. Whether that heat was caused by the dirty words constantly falling from your boyfriend’s lips, or by the way you were borderline choking on him and slurping him up, you weren’t too sure.

You spent a while just working Chris’ length, sucking him off, swallowing every bit of pre-cum that spilled from his tip, jerking the rest of his shaft you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You did it until the feeling of emptiness in your core was just too much to bear. It truly hadn’t been that long, three days wasn’t even the longest you’d ever spent without having sex with Chris, but considering the circumstances, you figured your body just missed him.

With a lewd pop, you let him fall from your mouth, all so you could climb your way back up to sit on his lap and kiss him. Burying your fingers in his hair, you pulled him as close to you as you could, just as Chris’ fingers dug on your soft sides, whimpering a bit at the feel of his tongue against yours, of his lips on your own.

“Gimme some room, pretty. Hm?” Chris mumbled against your lips, right before biting on your lower lip and tugging it, just as he brought a hand between your bodies.

So you complied, lifting your hips just a bit, enough for him to bring two fingers to your entrance. Chris wasted no time, he spread your essence all over, getting his fingers drenched before he finally stuffed those two fingers within your warmth.

A quiet whimper left your mouth as soon as he started moving his fingers, as soon as he started massaging the utmost sensitive areas within your walls, stretching you open in the process. The slow, calculated movements of his fingers were a complete contrast to the borderline desperate way he was kissing you. You were starting to feel lightheaded, breathless, and you were sure your heart was close to bursting out of your chest.

Detaching your lips from his, you attached them to his cheek, trying to catch your breath. You couldn’t help but whine when Chris removed his fingers from your core. The sight of him bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean, with his eyebrows pulled together in bliss, had you clenching around air, had you craving his warmth, too.

So you brought your hand between your bodies, taking a hold of your boyfriend’s length and lining him with your entrance right as you kissed him again.

“Love, wait…” Chris pulled away from your lips, just before you took him inside of you. “Need to stretch you more first”.

You just shook your head, leaning in to press a brief kiss on his cheekbone. “Can’t wait that long”.

“Baby…” Chris was giving you his Worried Tone, and you appreciated it, you really did, but you also needed to have him inside you now or you were sure you’d cry.

You pressed a few more kisses on his cheeks, mumbling. “I can take it…Need you. Now”.

“Fuck, you’re playing dirty…” Chris chuckled. His need to give you what you wanted and his instinct to make sure you didn’t get hurt were clearly at odds with each other here, but you knew very well what your limits were. “Fine, but go slow. Hm?”

“Mhm…” You placed a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before you took him in your hand and lined him with your entrance again.

With a deep breath, you finally started to lower yourself on Chris’ lap, taking him in one centimetre at a time.

Funny thing, how Chris asked you to go slow, as if you had any semblance of control whatsoever, as if he wasn’t holding your hips tightly to make sure you did go slow. Sure, it was a bit more difficult than usual, but you were already so used to your boyfriend’s body it wasn’t particularly painful, just a bit of tighter fit.

As soon as you were fully sat on his cock, you sighed, almost relieved that you were finally stuffed full, just as Chris swore under his breath. You moved a hand from where it’d been resting against his chest to his cheek instead, and he closed his eyes, turning his head to place a kiss on your palm.

“So warm…” He mumbled against the skin of your palm, and he removed one of his hands from your hips to bring it to yours on his face, cradling it so he could press kisses on your wrist. The soft drag of his lips over the sensitive skin further agitated those butterflies in your belly.

Leaning into him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck, just as one of his arms circled your waist and his hand found its way into your hair, cradling the back of your neck, holding you close once you finally started to move.

“You know you’re my dream girl, right?” Chris whispered in your ear, chuckling when you involuntarily clenched around him. 

Pressing soft kisses on his neck, you hummed. “I know. But I love hearing it anyway”.

“I know you do…I can feel it”, he moved his hand from where it was laying around your waist to grope one of your buttcheeks instead.

Chris let you keep the slow bounce of your hips, clearly in no rush to do anything other than fondle your soft flesh, than enjoying your body and your kisses and your overall attention. You could feel his body getting warmer, his chest heaving, and the low hums and sighs that left his lips under your movements had your mind hazing a bit. 

“I’m so…happy”, you mumbled against his skin, pressing kisses up his neck until you found his cheek, leaving a lingering kiss there. “Happy that you’re mine”.

Chris’ hand that was cradling your head finally moved, finding your other buttcheek. He held you tightly, almost tight enough to bruise, and you knew your little time of control was over. “Love to be yours…Love that you’re mine…”

Finding your lips, Chris kissed you deeply, holding you with a firm grip. He moved you up and down his cock however he pleased, with no difficulty. His tongue in your mouth, pushing against yours, felt like the tastiest dessert you’d ever had, coupled with the feel of him going in and out of you, hitting all your sweetest spots, was quickly clouding your mind, filling it with only your loving boyfriend, the delicious drag of his cock against your walls, and the feeling of his hands on your flesh.

“You know…” Chris moved away from your mouth, attaching his lips to your neck instead to suck a mark on it, making you squirm a little. “Sometimes…It feels like you were made for me…” His hold on your bum tightened, and the pace in which he was bouncing you up and down his cock increased just the tiniest bit.

“Your tight cunt, your fat ass, your soft tits, your thick thighs…” Every word that came out of his mouth had you whimpering, had you whining softly close to his ear. Threading your fingers through his hair, you held him tightly, relishing his wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck and chest. “But not just that…”

Kissing up your neck, Chris found your earlobe, lightly sucking and licking on it. “You’re so kind, smart…so caring, and strong willed…”

Before you knew it, you were rolling, and the tiniest of squeaks left your lips once Chris flipped you both over so he was now on top of you. There were few things in this world you enjoyed more than your boyfriend’s weight on you. It always filled you with a pleasant mix of comfort and arousal. The way he moved your thighs so you could wrap your legs around his torso, to lock one ankle over the other so you could keep him there as he continued to drill into you, it all was quickly filling you with a sense of fullness quite like never before.

His mouth claimed yours, kissing you with want, all while his hips slowly  rocked back and forth to fill you with all of him time and time again. You truly felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest, like it was skipping every other beat.

With one of his arms under your neck and the other around your lower back to tilt you however he wanted, you simply let yourself enjoy the feeling of him all around you, in you, dragging your hands up and down his back, feeling each dip and curve of his muscles, relishing his warmth, his body heat.

“I’m just…” Chris murmured between kisses. “Madly in love with you…”

Your heart swelled in your chest, now full of just Chris. You could only vaguely hear the whines and quiet moans that left your mouth with each thrust, with each word coming out of your boyfriend’s kiss-bitten lips, and your nails dug on his back as he increased his pace.

“I love you…” You simply mumbled back, holding tight onto him, swallowing the almost desperate moan that came out of his lips as soon as your words registered in his brain.

“Say it again”, Chris buried his face in the crook of your neck, bringing a hand between your bodies so he could start rubbing circles on your clit.

The slow movement of his hips was now long gone. His pace grew faster, the headboard started to thump against the wall, a sound you weren’t really used to–unlike your bed at home, this one was most certainly not werewolf-proof. It would’ve distracted you, had Chris not increased the intensity of his thrusts, drilling into you as hard as you knew he could, making you see stars and making you lose your sense of reality.

It took you a moment to comply, too lost in the feeling of it all. “I…I love you”.

“Again”, his voice was a bit strained, but you could barely register it with the unrelenting pace of his fingers on that sensitive bud between your legs, with the feel of him splitting you open time and time again.

“Love you, Chris. I’m–”

With one final moan of his name, you finally felt your release wash over you, dragging warmth all throughout your body. You bit on his shoulder to ground yourself, your nails dug on his back, and the blissed-out sounds coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth joined the ringing that had started in your ears.

“Fuck, fuck…Love you…so much…” Burying himself as deep as he could, Chris finally stilled, filling you up, pumping you full of his release, of everything he had to give.

As you came down from your high, you could vaguely feel his rumble against your chest, and even in your post orgasmic, hazy state you couldn’t help but smile, holding tightly onto him, just as he held onto you, as he pressed soft, tender kisses on your neck. Chris truly never rumbled often, but when he did, it was because he was either falling into a more animalistic state, or because he was particularly vulnerable, and as you held him, you knew the reason was the latter.

When he pulled away from your neck to finally press a loving kiss on your lips, you couldn’t help but notice the blush on his face and his ears. You simply brushed your nose against his, relishing the small giggle that left his lips when you did.

“Be right back”, Chris tried to pull himself away from your embrace, but you held him tightly in place, keeping your limbs firmly around him. Realistically, he was stronger than you, and he could pull you off of his body easily, but he didn’t, he simply regarded you with a curious–and maybe a bit confused–look.

You looked him in the eyes for a bit, until you unwrapped your arms from around his neck to instead cradle his face in your hands, softly stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “I’m so, so in love with you. Truly”.

His flush deepened, just as the widest smile spread on his lips, making his eyes disappear into crescents and his dimples pop on his cheeks. With one more kiss on his lips, you finally let go of him. Chris simply left the comfort of your bed, and he made his way to your dresser, so he could grab a random towel from one of the drawers.

He cleaned you up thoroughly, wiping the fluids leaking from your ruined core, all as he smothered your face with kisses, making your heart flutter in your chest and your cheeks heat up.

As soon as he was done he dumped the towel on the floor, tucking you and himself back under the covers, uncaring of the soiled sheets as he held you close to his body, stroking your back, your thighs, your bum…

“Sorry if I didn’t let you keep the pace for long…” Chris mumbled against your hair, sounding just as sleepy as you felt, even when it was early in the day. You figured the sleepless nights were catching up to you both.

Leaving a quick peck on his chest, you snuggled closer. “It’s okay, darling. You know I love when you manhandle me”.

“Don’t you mean wolf-handle you?” Chris giggled, mostly to himself, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Any-handle me”, you confirmed, draping your leg over his torso and pulling him further into you, pressing yourself fully to his heated skin. “Just love to feel you…”

“Mm…Me too”, he simply caressed your back, keeping you close.

You both kept silent for a while, simply basking in your love and the lingering feeling of your high.

“If we ever fight again…I’ll try my best not to run away”, you mumbled, tracing mindless shapes on his chest.

Chris took a deep breath, and you felt his chest rise and fall under your head. “I understand why you do it. If it helps you, then I won’t stop you”.

“But…it hurts you, baby”.

“I manage…” He brought a hand to your head, softly caressing your hair.

You pulled yourself away from his hold, propped yourself up on an elbow, and looked him right in the eyes. “Chris…Why didn’t you tell me you had imprinted on me?”

Chris’ whole body tensed as soon as you asked the question, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “How’d you–”

“Seungmin sent me some texts explaining…Please don’t be mad at him, he was just worried about you”, you added that last sentence as soon as you saw Chris’ gaze harden, and he pressed his fingers on his eye sockets, just as he let out a frustrated sigh.

“‘Course Seungmin told you…” He mumbled. When he finally removed his hands from his face, his eyes found yours, looking incredibly vulnerable. “Pretty, listen…”

Chris sat down on the bed, and you followed right after, crossing your legs, and listening intently to what he wanted to say. “I didn’t tell you anything about imprinting in general because I just knew that the second you found out about it you’d know I had imprinted on you. There was just no way for you not to know when it’s so painfully obvious that my feelings for you run much deeper than a regular guy’s would…It’s a lot to take in, and it’s a level of pressure I didn’t want to put on you”.

Taking your hand in his, he gave it a squeeze. “I don’t want you to…feel like you have to stay with me because of all this mystical bullshit inside of me. You should be able to put space between us if you need it, to do things you want to do even if they go against what I say…And, most importantly, you should be able to leave if you ever want to…”

You felt your heart ache with that last statement. Somehow, the thought of leaving him, of truly leaving, was unbearable even to you. Sure, people fell out of love often, it wasn’t like it couldn’t happen, but you figured most people didn’t have a supernatural connection with their partner.

“Baby…” You squeezed Chris’ hand, bringing his attention to your eyes. “These couple of days without you have felt like pure torture. I know it sounds silly, considering one, I was the one who left, and two, we’ve been physically apart for long periods of time several times before, but never after an argument. It’s manageable in normal circumstances, but if we’ve fought, or if we don’t speak, you need to know it’s painful for me, too”.

Chris’ eyes widened, like you were breaking inconceivable news to him. He cupped your cheek with his free hand, keeping you close. “What?”

“I’ve never felt anything like this…Like a piece of me had been ripped out of my body. I didn’t understand why, until I read those texts from Seungmin this morning…” You brought your hand to rest on top of his on your face, licking your lips. “Seems like that mystical bullshit is inside me, too, baby. Which, I suppose, makes sense, if your wolf is somehow connected to me…”

“Shit, pretty, I–” You could see it in his eyes, Christopher’s signature Guilty Look. The one he had whenever he was beating himself up. You truly loved him deeply, but, sometimes, you felt like you wanted to murder him for taking the blame for things that weren’t his fault.

“Nuh-uh”, you cupped his cheeks, squishing them together. “Don’t give me the ‘guilty dog’ eyes. Not with this”.

“But–”

Before he could continue, you moved. Sitting on his lap, still cradling his face in your hands, but with less pressure, you simply looked him in the eyes. “Now, you’re gonna be all like ‘ooohh, I dragged you into this’, ‘ooohh, it’s my fault’, ‘ooohh, I didn’t mean to’. Please don’t do that”.

A pout made its way onto your lips, and you saw Chris’ form relax a bit, just as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“What are you gonna do about it now? Take what’s mine away from me? No way”, you moved your hands from his cheeks to his hair, burying your fingers in the soft strands, holding him tightly. “The universe has made you for me, too, babe. I wholeheartedly believe this is a mutual thing”.

Chris looked at you for a brief moment, taking you in. His eyes jumped all over your face, and, in an instant, he was scoffing, and a bright smile spread on his lips. “God, I truly am so fucked. So sickly in love with you, baby. You shouldn’t have said that, I’m gonna be even more insufferable after this”.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way”, you mumbled, right before you pulled him in for a kiss.

Chris just hugged you tighter, and he dropped back on the bed, bringing you down with him, giggling. You just giggled in response, kissing him as many times as you could, relishing his warmth, his presence, and his love.

After a while, when your fit of giggles died down, when you were just cuddling again, holding each other close, Chris tensed under you. “Shouldn’t we take Joaquín on a walk?” His eyes widened, and he suddenly held your waist tightly. “Shit, baby, do you think your mum came back?”

You just hummed, bracing yourself on his chest to sit on his lap. “Let’s hope she didn’t. Not like I particularly care, but if she did come back already, she probably heard you railing me. There is just no way she didn’t. You almost made a hole on the wall with how much this bed was moving”.

“Oh my God…” Chris groaned, covering his face in his hands, and you smiled as you saw his ears grow red. “I can’t believe I let you seduce me!”

“Oh, please. As if you needed me to do anything for you to feel seduced”, you laughed, pulling his hands away from his face, uncovering his flushed cheeks and the pout on his lips.

You tried your best to kiss that pout off of his face, but he was still grumbling, grumpy at the thought that he’d somehow disrespected your mother’s home. Whatever that meant.

“C’mon, baby”, you said eventually, pressing one last, loud kiss on his lips. “Let’s find out if you’re working yourself up over nothing, or if death by embarrassment is a real thing”.

Chris sighed, but he followed you when you stood up from the bed to get dressed, practically holding his breath in anticipation when you finally opened the door to leave your room.

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General Masterlist Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments:  It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

[mattmurdock-wife24]

From a boy to a men

Author's note: hi sweetie! Hope you like this one, have a good reading ✨️

This was a request

Warning: none, just pure soft and fluff stuff, and kisses

He hears his name shouted, adored, praised. He's never felt better, to be idolized, loved. He was raised for this, to be the sparkle in people's eyes, but all the lying and pretending didn't go down your throat.

You are the princess of the kingdom allied to Kenji's, promised to each other from birth. And you couldn't understand why everyone loved him so much, he's arrogant, petty, careless, a complete idiot and you hated him for it.

Today you'll meet him for dinner at his house, with your parents and his father. Where he'll ask for your hand in marriage, since your 18th birthday was not too long ago.

So you put on your most breathtaking dress, tidy up your wavy hair and put a cute bow in it, and drape a blouse over your dark skin. You enter the castle to be greeted by a warm embrace from the king, Gedde Wanatabe. Your eyes meet Kenji's, which have a wicked, dark glint in them.

The dinner itself was peaceful, but as it drew to a close, everyone became tense, and King Wanatabe handed Kenji a little black velvet box. Everyone got up, and Kenji knelt down in front of you, who were still sitting there in shock - it was really happening. You could hear your heart in your ears and you feared that Kenji would hear it too. The ring fit perfectly on your finger.

Everyone smiles, relieved, and leaves the "bride and groom" alone. You put your hands on your waist, trying to get as far away from Kenji as possible after the wedding, you hear him laugh and you grimace. "Why are you always so fucking mad at me?" He exhales.

"Because you're an idiot "And?" " because you're irresponsible" "And what, princess?"

You get angry and your body makes a sign to leave and he grabs your arm.

"I know you think I'm an idiot, but this idiot here is going to become the king" you sigh, annoyed "Your title doesn't matter, what matters is your heart, if you even have one! " you sigh " if you want to be a good king, a good husband. Become a man first, because all I see here is a bruised, asshole boy."

Your words hurt him in a way he had never felt before, it was like a bucket of cold water. He felt dirty, guilt rising through his body, so he was determined to do better, for you, for the kingdom.

He began to work harder, pulling all-nighters to resolve royal issues. He treated his subordinates with modesty and even his relationship with his father had improved, now all that was left was for you in his hands to love and care for... forever.

The big day had arrived, and you were on edge. You hadn't seen Kenji since that night. You look at yourself in the mirror, watching as the beautiful white lace dress dances down your curves. You're startled by the knock on the door, but you open it anyway.

You meet Kenji, who stares at you in amazement. You see a certain desperation in his voice when he says that you two need to talk.

"What do you want? The ceremony is about to start." "I did everything you asked, I changed, for you, for the crown, for my father. I worked until I couldn't anymore. And you were right, I was a piece of shit" you stare in disbelief at his words, this certainly wasn't the Kenji you knew "please"he whispers in your ear "be mine"

You were at the altar, with Kenji by your side, staring at you with a passionate look, which only made you even more nervous. When the priest said "till death do you part" Kenji grabbed you around the waist and kissed you deeply. Part of you felt embarrassed by the number of people watching, but another part of you just wanted to enjoy the moment, enjoy this new Kenji. "I'm already yours, I always have been" you sigh back into his ear.

hiii lovely soul, hope you liked it!

My requests are open and I write for several characters, and sometimes I can make an exception haha

Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 😊✨️

[chosos-mascara]

you shouldn't

𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - arriving at toji's home after a break-up, you decide to finally make a move.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - age gap (reader is mid-20s, toji is late 40s), sex, some angst but resolved, fingering, teasing, petnames, no mentions of birth control, dom!toji, dilf!toji

minors + ageless dni 4k words

"What're ya doing here, kid?" Toji was dishevelled, a bath robe tied loosely around his waist, chest open to reveal a few scars behind the silk. Your eyes were puffy, swollen from tears, lips bloated and peeling, a few marks from where you'd bitten the soft skin a little too much. A state you hadn't wanted him to see, but one he'd answered the door to nonetheless, much to your embarrassment.

"He broke up with me." The sentence left you with reluctance, eyes unable to meet his, instead trailing down to meet the indentations of pink painted on his skin, a mark you knew had been the result of a previous job. Toji sighed and stepped back, opening his door wider to accommodate you, though not before shooting you a disapproving look.  "Told ya it wouldn't last." He couldn't help but to scold you for mistakes, no matter how much you'd been hurt in the process. Though, this was new - you hadn't turned up to his home through tears before. 

"I trusted him," A sob racked over you as you'd explained, the warmth inside his hall kissing your cold cheeks. "I don't know why. They're all the same." The final words were quieter as you sniffled back another cry, shaking your head.  "You keep lettin' these guys fuck with ya. 's your own fault." His voice was a little muffled; you'd understood he had been bringing a cigarette to lips and lighting it with the way the sentence had left the curve of a half open mouth.  "Thought he was different, Toj'." You glanced up to him, sporting the usual puppy-dog eyes - the sole reason Toji couldn't turn you away. His social battery was lower than most, though when it'd come to you, his tolerance had increased. There was something about the way you'd looked at him, your mannerisms, and the fact he'd known you'd needed him. Even if you hadn't explicitly told him, Toji understood he was a big part of your life. 

He'd been your father's friend - not that you'd spent much time with the man himself; a business partner. Toji hadn't thought himself as a good dad, often leaving Megumi for extended periods of time, but when he'd met an eighteen-year-old you over dinner with the old man, he'd realised his parenting had been award-winning compared to his associate's. Your relationship with Toji had been purely business related at first, beginning a career under the family's sector as his secretary, and through pity, the black-haired male had taken time out of his day to look out for you. You'd play back, and he'd appreciate your witty responses, eventually looking forward to the grin greeting him before he'd step into his office. It had been a number of years ago now, and something had bloomed between the pair of you. 

Toji had assumed you'd seen him as a parental figure - he'd been in his late forties while you still in the midst of twenties, a large age gap according to him. Though after a few drinks at the work's Christmas party he'd been dragged to, he'd been met with a confession from yourself - "I used to have a pretty big crush on you." One he found himself remembering late at night, pondering over what would have happened if in that moment, he would've made a move. But, that had been a year ago, and you'd seen multiple people within that time frame - all of which Toji had hated. 

Though, he needn't worry about them because after a month or so, they'd drop like flies. You hadn't been able to figure out why, though indulging in the positiveness Toji would offer to you after break-ups, spilling gossip to him in the break-room and basking in the odd compliment of your character he'd fish out in an attempt to aid your sadness. He'd figured out long ago that the reason had been down to your mental state, and the damage caused over the years by your environment. The male had figured that the men looking for a fling hadn't the emotional capacity to support you, and at times, he wasn't sure he'd be able to either.

"Can we watch a movie, or something?" You questioned, bringing the back of your hand to rub away the tears that had accumulated over your face, glancing back to the male. Toji nodded, exhaling smoke and gesturing to his attire - or lack thereof.  "Ain't doing shit in this, let me get dressed." The male moved toward the wooden staircase in the hall beside you, placing a foot on the first step before turning back to add to the previous sentence. "Wanna change? Get somethin' comfy on - I don't know what girls like to wear 'n shit." 

A laugh escaped tired lips, appreciating the thought he'd had, a gracious nod followed by eager footsteps. Following the male upstairs, you waited outside of the door you'd understood had belonged to his bedroom, listening to the muted noises of movement as he'd rummaged through drawers, pulling a cotton tee and a pair of pyjama bottoms up to study. They'd looked a little too large for you, but with the draw-string, he was sure they'd be good enough. The new outfit had been thrown over his half-bent arm while he'd met you back at the door-frame, stretching the limb out to offer you the fabric. Reaching forward and wrapping fingers around the garments, your skin grazed the silk of his dressing-gown, warmth radiating through the thin attire to bestow heat onto your hand. You'd lingered a little longer than needed, feeling an  emptiness once more as his presence left you.

You brought the clothing with you into his bathroom, sliding-door closed behind you for privacy. It had only taken a few moments to change, the newly acquired outfit smelling just like the man you'd taken it from - it had been likely the garments had been left unwashed after he'd worn them last. A large mirror sat above the sink, one you'd glanced over to admire the clothes over your body. The old tee-shirt was baggy, trousers too, hiding your figure in a slightly unflattering way, yet your chest had still tightened as fingers traced over the creases, a warmth within you knowing these had been worn by him. 

Toji had been sat wide-legged on the old couch, eyes lingering over you as you'd entered the room. The sensation he'd felt rising through him had been unusual, a fluttering within his stomach, one he'd attempted to push away as he'd removed his gaze from you, hoping the thoughts at the forefront of his mind would subside so he could get through the evening without initiating something the pair of you would come to regret.  

"You looked at me funny." The timid voice coming from beside him as you'd seated yourself had caused a strained sigh to leave his lips. He'd wished you'd push your curiosity aside and ignore the tension between the pair of you, something you'd seemingly done with ease when you'd been dating your last fling.  Toji was a little too old for you - not to mention a business associate with your father. If the asshole found out he'd fucked his daughter, it'd be over. "Nah, I didn't." Denial, that was something Toji had done often. 

"Do I look that bad?" You'd laughed while asking, though there had been a twang of pain with the question. It was easy to understand he wouldn't appreciate you in the state you'd arrived in, though you'd hoped there was a chance he'd see a natural beauty through the midst of tears, or now, in clothing two sizes too big.  "You look pretty." The response had his cheeks warming up, face tilting away from your line of sight after the last word had left his mouth. The man beside you hadn't been affectionate, and wouldn't start now. 

The compliment had caused a grin to spread eagerly across lips, though with Toji's line of sight aimed at the television before you, he hadn't noticed the consequence of the sheepish words he'd spoken. A late night talk show had been showcased before you, the host talking with an A-list celebrity, though it had been difficult to focus on the screen. With Toji's legs spread apart, his right knee had rested against yours, back slumped against the cushions behind him. His face ahd been painted with his usual tired scowl, eyes half open.

It was possible your heightened emotions following the conflict you'd faced earlier had caused a small misjudgement, though you'd been aware of the feelings you'd had toward the male, finally feeling a surge of confidence. There had been some contemplation with your actions before you'd executed the desire, a question of whether the activity soon to follow Toji zoning out before the television had been appropriate - it hadn't. Yet, the fight within your mind hadn't been able to stop you leaning forward, wrapping fingers idly under the hairs kissing his neck, pressing his lips to yours. 

You held your lips against his for a moment, awaiting a reaction before continuing. Initially, there had been a jolt of surprise, his palm meeting your shoulder, but following the small movements he'd remained still. There was a weak push, causing you to shift backward, breaking the kiss. Eyes fluttering open, heart beating, you looked at the man wide eyed, the taste of ciagrettes on your lips.

"What're you doing?" His questioning tone had been gruff, eyebrows furrowed with annoyance, yet you could tell from his body language he'd wanted to continue. "I-" You inhaled, face only inches from his, breath fanning over wettened lips. "I really like you." The child-like confession was spoken as a whisper, imagining the scolding words that were about to leave his lips, because even if Toji had felt the same way, there would be an inner-conflict on whether he'd felt he deserved it. 

"You shouldn't." He was quiet, soft timbre from his throat, dismissing the admission. Though as his features moved closer to yours, he'd allowed his actions to counteract his head, closing the gap between you to taste you once more. The motions against one another had been gentle, as if testing the waters. 

Toji's tongue slid along yours, exploring your mouth while he'd kissed you, hands caressing your body before settling over your hips. He'd squeezed over the fat as he pulled you toward him, your legs widening to allow yourself room to straddle his lap. Breathing heavy, you maintained the slurry of sloppiness against him, fingers clutching tightly over the hairs at the back of his head, a groan tumbling from him to show appreciation to the action. 

Your hand fell to the waistband of the jogging-bottoms he'd been wearing, fingers hooking the hem to pull lightly at the fabric, an indication of what you'd wanted. Pushing his hips upward, he'd allowed the movement, hard dick freed from the confides of the cloth prison. Mirroring the display, the pyjama bottoms he'd gifted you had been removed, cock lined at your dripping cunt before you'd sunk down, a gasp as you'd felt yourself stretch over his size. Toji hissed, throwing his head back while tightening his hands over your sides, as if to offer some stability. 

"Fuck, baby." The voice erupting from the male's chest had been one you'd dreamed of, so breathless and hoarse, a demonstration of the pleasure he'd felt through the movement of your hips.  "Feels s' good." You uttered words of appraisal, hands on each of his shoulders to aid in the bobbing movement, messy sounds gushing from between the pair for your thighs. Toji pushed upward, pulling you down in order to bottom out, a whimper falling from your lips at the fullness. Both chests rising and falling at an increased rate, hums cascading from parted lips, Toji brought his head forward, eyes watching intently while you'd bounced on his cock. The way he'd fixated his gaze on you had felt invasive, stare hardened, pupils blown-out from lust. His attention sent a throb between your legs, swollen clit making friction upon his waist with each languish movement. 

"Wanted to do this f'r so long-" The deceleration had barely been articulated through whines, thighs shaking from the strenuous activity. You were sure he'd feel the tremble as his hands dropped to sit on your legs, though if he had, he'd been unfazed, simply appreciating the effort. A squeeze of his grip, jolt of his hips followed by a groan had signalled his release, eyes squeezing closed. Toji hadn't often looked at peace, weighed down by the stress of running a business, and having a teenage son, yet during this moment, his expression relaxing through post-orgasm bliss, he had looked calm. 

You leaned forward, placing a haphazard kiss against his forehead, hands embracing both sides of his face. Green eyes peered up to your fatigued expression, guilt painted over his countenance, though the nervousness his appearance had given you was pushed down with the hopes of what was to come from the encounter. 

"I don't think this should happen again." After holding you close and eventually making your way to his bedroom, the words Toji had spoken while gripping his morning coffee had been the last you'd wished to hear. He took a sip, allowing the statement to brew within your unexpectant mind, panic setting across you. Grimacing, he tore his sight from the kitchen floor to the mug, a reluctant swallow of the liquid before inspecting the coffee machine responsible for the beverage. A large hand flicked the switch on the side, displaying his realisation the machine had been set to cold, pouring the unwanted coffee into the sink before placing the cup back down, whirring filling the thick atmosphere as a second drink had been prepared for him. A situation that, before he'd spoken the short sentence, would have been comical to watch. Now, it had only felt uncomfortable to sit through, pitying the old man's display. 

"Why?" You questioned desperately, dropping your gaze to the granite breakfast bar you'd been propped up against, hands holding your chin for support. An attempt to remain calm through the encounter had you consciously breathing in, and out, controlling the amount of oxygen entering your lungs, though with this manual movement, you'd felt more breathless than if you'd allowed your body's natural response.  "It's not right." Toji spoke, morning voice still low, eyes drooping from fatigue. You'd wodnered if he'd slept at all by the state before you, the man's conscience had been worst than most - odd considering the fact he'd come across as egotistical and blunt. When involving friends and family, there had been something deep-rooted within him, most likely due to a past encounter that had been unknown to you. Pride, and loyalty, had been meaningful. 

"Look, kid." He began, an elongated exhale had signified his lack of desire for debate, mug now placed on the counter beside him, fingers instead pressing to his temple. "I'm old enough to be your dad. I know your old man ain't shit, but I don't wanna defy him either. Imagine he finds out we're foolin' around." Green eyes failed to meet you as he looked to the other corner of the kitchen, and you were left to wonder if he'd shared feelings with you, or had been unable to accept them. 

The thought of either hadn't been comforting. Toji had been the person you'd trusted for the last handful-or-so of years, a person you'd consider a friend. His rejection would mean an alteration in the dynamic you'd shared, something you'd been unprepared for.  "So, you just used me?" The accusation fell from your mouth, anger bubbling through the anxieties you'd felt, thinking back to the night you'd shared, a vulnerability you'd allowed him to see.  "What're you talkin' about? You came onto me-" His voice was raised, hand slamming against the counter beside him as his face contorted in annoyance.  "You could've said no!" Matching the tone he'd served to you, you stood, the chair once housing you now pushed backward with the momentum that indignation had brought you. "I've loved you for years, Toji." His name had your voice breaking, frown trembling with emotion, vision blurring through tears. The fact he'd been like every other male you'd been involved with over the past few years had broken your heart deeper than any pain you'd felt, disappointment in the cracks of your mind. 

"Told ya last night - you shouldn't." There was a pain across his features, one that had been difficult to interpret through your own emotion.  "Because, you're scared?" The question was faint, voice soft as you stepped toward him. His arms crossed over his chest, eyes rolling at the behaviour you'd conducted, unwilling to confront how he'd truly felt. "I ain't scared - god, you're such a brat." Another strained sigh had escaped his chest, Toji shaking his head. "I haven't dated since-" He paused, eyes leaving yours to flicker up to the ceiling in thought, reminiscing on the past. "Since Megumi's mother. I'm not fit to be a boyfriend or whatever shit you've got planned." The admission had your eyes tearing up, a stray tear rolling down your heated cheeks. Reaching a hand forward, you met his face, brushing over the stubble protruding his skin, prickling your finger-tips. Though, you ignored the roughness to bring his face closer to yours, a kiss planted on his parted lips. When it had come to Toji, you were willing to stand up to him, understanding the defence mechanism he'd developed of pushing those he'd cared of away, as if to protect them. 

"I just want you." The four words spoken had been enough consolation. Toji pressed forward, bringing his hands to cup both cheeks as he pushed into you, an increase in passion as your lips danced with one another. A kiss unlike the ones shared the night before - years of friendship, of guidance, support, transferred between the pair of you as a reminder of the moments you'd shared.

Hands moved to cup one another's bodies, his gliding beneath the fabric of the shirt he'd given you to feel the curves beneath, lifting the hem to slide fingers against bare skin. His touch had been electric, a euphoric affection he'd gifted to you through the grazing of his tongue to yours. The way in which each of you had slotted against one another had been mesmerising, a feat of fulfilment you had felt with no other being. Two flames fighting for dominance; after last night's events, Toji had wanted to take the lead.  "Bedroom." The noun had been uttered between kisses, the male eventually pulling back to take your wrist into hand, pulling you toward the staircase.   

The ascent was quick, a silent journey taken with haste, and once through the door you hadn't a chance to look over the room, instantly being drawn to him as large digits encased cotton, his loose tee being removed from your body. With a moment taken for adoration of the woman before him, Toji leaned forward, attaching himself back to you, your own hands undressing bottom half before being ushered to the double bed showcased within the middle of his bedroom. Somewhere between your arrival and the male placing himself between your spread thighs, he'd disregarded his own trousers, though instead of using his hardened member to fuck into you with, he'd caressed sodden lips with his fingers, ghosting over your clit before dipping a digit into you. 

With a gasp, he was encouraged on, adding his ring finger to middle, sliding them into your opening before beckoning them back out. Your back arched, mouth open and static as your body focused on the sensation his fingers brought to you, a smirk on his lips from the lack of your ability to multitask.  "So wet already." His statement was condescending, a rough kiss against your cheek, though despite the cruel action, you'd tightened around him in pleasure. "Like that, baby?" The deep voice tickled your ear, another sloppy press of his lips against neck. Lewd sounds penetrated the atmosphere, a squelching from your increasing arousal. His presence had changed, less conflicted over his actions, allowing himself to take authority over you.  "Listen to yourself, so fucking dirty." Using the hand he had free, Toji wrapped his fingers around your chin, forcing head still to be locked into his gaze. Biting your lip, you challenged his superiority, allowing eyes to meet his.

"Tell me what you want." The demand had been evidence to Toji's desires, wishing to take things further, yet wanting to appear unanimous. He scissored the fingers apart slightly while plunging them in and out of you, a moan being forced from you at the motion.  "Y-your cock, please." The act of begging hadn't been one that had appealed to you previously, though with Toji working you up, you'd understood what it had truly meant to ache for dick. The need to feel his member within your walls, the understanding that his pleasure was as heightened as yours, was all you were able to picture through the haze you'd fell within. 

Toji fulfilled the request without hesitation, moving the digits to grip at your side as he'd pushed himself into you, thumb moving to rub circles across your clit as he'd fucked himself deep into you. The gradual build up to this predicament had meant an inability to keep quiet, moans exiting you with each roll of the swollen bud, eyes squeezing shut and mouth wide. He laughed, though through your own sounds it had been difficult to tell. 

"So fucking tight." His praise wasn't lost on you despite the noise, a faint smile forming over your lips, another clench around the thick cock that had been fucking into you. "You best be thankin' me when you cum all over my cock, pretty girl." Toji's words echoed through your ears, back arching while you'd fallen closer to climaxing, squeezing and pulsing over him. He'd grunted, eyes threatening to close, though forcing them open as he'd refused to miss a moment of witnessing you writhing in his sheets, moments from creaming over him. He could feel your orgasm approaching, walls spasming, desperate gasps for air.  "What'd I say?" Toji reinforced his request, to wish you'd mumbled out the words;

"Thank you, thank you, thank-" Rendered speechless, only a scream had been able to replace the words you'd spoken, eyes rolling back to reveal only white to the male bullying into you. Toji watched you contort under him, succumbing to the high you'd reached, clamping over his cock. The tight squeeze had him groaning, milking his seed to flush within your walls, a unison of pleasure. 

Toji didn't pull out for a few moments, instead basking within the fog of his mind, running hands over the bare body under him. You'd felt cool air when he'd eventually vacated you, opening your eyes when he'd placed hands beneath you, manoeuvring you to lay beneath the sheets, head hitting pillow. He'd joined you, mattress sinking as his weight had been added. You'd wanted to remind him it'd been morning, and protest a nap so early within the day, though as if he'd known the sentence your lips had been about to form, Toji raised a hand.  "Jus' get some more sleep." With his arm resting over you, head residing in the gap between your own and your shoulder, you did as he'd requested, closing eyes to rest beside him once more.  

[nic-coughlan]

If you can add or change anything from season 3 of Bridgerton what would it be?

ohhhhh it's like a having a light shone in my face and "START TALKING!" shouted at me

ok ok ok

a small change?

so the mondrich's needed to be a tiny insignificant part in the BG. no hate to the characters or the actor/actress but it was boring, trivial, and took way too much space in a storyline not meant for them.

a big change?

the most controversial part of the season for everyone I think is the controversy and the angst around the LW reveal. putting the angst in the last two episodes with a 10 minute recovery time of 'oh we're so happy now and we have a baby!!!' did not fucking work. it should have been resolved in episode 7, and episode 8 should have been that kind of awkward getting back on their feet, coming together, having their first time as a wedded couple, maybe even finding out she's pregnant and a skip forward to when she's given birth. it would have felt more satisfactory, it would have felt like we, the audience, who were suffering watching her cry hysterically on her wedding day in her best friends arms, had a lot more contentment and a feeling of "yes! they did it!" instead of like a "oh....ok...is that it??" instead. bc they didn't it's why there was so much backlash amongst the other things that people felt was wrong with the season.

[jackoshadows]

IMO, If there is one person Jon Snow is going to be most affected by after learning about R+L=J, it's going to be his mother Lyanna and not the men - Ned or Rhaegar. He's going to be shaken to his core knowing the truth of his mother.

The mother he keeps hoping to remember. The mother he thinks of when he sees his siblings get a mother's love. The mother he wants Ned to tell him about. The mother he dreams about - who she was, where she was, did she love him?

"Am I?" the dwarf replied, sardonic. "Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure." "I don't even know who my mother was," Jon said. - - Jon, AGoT

"The Watch has need of every man it can get," Donal Noye said when they were alone. "Even men like Toad. You won't win any honors killing him." Jon's anger flared. "He said my mother was—" "—a whore. I heard him. What of it? Words won't make your mother a whore. She was what she was, and nothing Toad says can change that. You know, we have men on the Wall whose mothers were whores." Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. - Jon, AGoT

Your half brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King's Landing either. Even his own mother had not had a place for him. The thought of her made him sad. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her. Because she was a whore or an adulteress, fool. Something dark and dishonorable, or else why was Lord Eddard too ashamed to speak of her? - Jon , AGoT

"They were as close as brothers, once." Jon wondered if Joffrey would keep his father as the King's Hand. It did not seem likely. That might mean Lord Eddard would return to Winterfell, and his sisters as well. He might even be allowed to visit them, with Lord Mormont's permission. It would be good to see Arya's grin again and to talk with his father. I will ask him about my mother, he resolved. I am a man now, it is past time he told me. Even if she was a whore, I don't care, I want to know. - Jon, AGoT

"But it's a lie," Jon insisted. How could they think his father was a traitor, had they all gone mad? Lord Eddard Stark would never dishonor himself … would he? He fathered a bastard, a small voice whispered inside him. Where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of her? He will not even speak her name. - Jon, AGoT

The Old Bear shrugged. "A boy king … I imagine he'll listen to his mother. A pity the dwarf isn't with them. He's the lad's uncle, and he saw our need when he visited us. It was a bad thing, your lady mother taking him captive—" "Lady Stark is not my mother," Jon reminded him sharply. Tyrion Lannister had been a friend to him. If Lord Eddard was killed, she would be as much to blame as the queen. - Jon, AGoT

The old man seemed to sense his doubts. "Tell me, Jon, if the day should ever come when your lord father must needs choose between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other, what would he do?" Jon hesitated. He wanted to say that Lord Eddard would never dishonor himself, not even for love, yet inside a small sly voice whispered, He fathered a bastard, where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of his duty to her, he will not even say her name. "He would do whatever was right," he said … ringingly, to make up for his hesitation. "No matter what." - Jon, AGoT

Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. - Jon, AGoT

I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I'm a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. "I don't know." - Jon, AGoT

Soon they were high enough so that looking down was best not considered. There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. "The mountain is your mother," Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. "Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won't drop you." Jon had made a joke of it, saying how he'd always wondered who his mother was, but never thought to find her in the Frostfangs. It did not seem nearly so amusing now. One step and then another, he thought, clinging tight. - Jon, ACoK

"I am." "Who was your mother?" "Some woman. Most of them are." Someone had said that to him once. He did not remember who. - Jon, ACoK

She smiled again, a flash of white teeth. "And she never sung you the song o' the winter rose?" "I never knew my mother. Or any such song." - Jon, ACoK

"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? He had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard's motherless bastard, with no more place at Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy. - Jon, ASoS

Was this how it was for my father? he wondered. Was he as weak as I am, when he dishonored himself in my mother's bed? - Jon, ASoS

They shared the same sleeping skins every night, and he went to sleep with her head against his chest and her red hair tickling his chin. The smell of her had become a part of him. Her crooked teeth, the feel of her breast when he cupped it in his hand, the taste of her mouth . . . they were his joy and his despair. Many a night he lay with Ygritte warm beside him, wondering if his lord father had felt this confused about his mother, whoever she had been. - Jon, ASoS

Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body . . . and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. - Jon, ASoS

Jon has a mother. Wylla, her name is Wylla. She would need to remember so she could tell him, the next time she saw him.- Arya, ASoS

And knowing that, yes, he had a mother who loved him dearly and made Ned promise to take care of him on her deathbed is going to profoundly affect him and he is going to be bag of emotions!!

That he could visit her in the crypts of Winterfell, that she is buried there - his mother!! Hope we are still getting a Jon Snow POV after death/resurrection/becoming a king because GRRM writing this stuff?

[bonkbobl]

make a deal or play a game

ROOSE BOLTON X READER

a/n: guys im gonna be so fr with yall i legitimately dont know where this energy came from but here you go. this contains possibly the longest sex scene i've ever written in my entire history of fic writing and i did get a little carried away. like a little more than carried away. the keys just dont stop click clacking

summary: You find out Roose has been plotting against your King but you know the Northern cause cannot survive with the North divided between the King's loyalists and a Bolton-Karstark army backing their martyred liege lords. You and Lord Bolton need each other more than either of you would care to admit, grasping for power over each other.

warning: DUBCON!!!! as in the dubbiest of cons, power dynamics, forced marriage, roose bolton is secretly a perverted old man, EDGING like a LOT OF EDGING, wet humping??/thigh fucking, dacyrphilia, wait girl he's literally like obsessed with you eeeeeeeee

You were always Robb Starks most trusted advisor, and who was to question why. A ward, offered by one of the Starks most loyal vassal houses for the honor of have you join their family as a ward. Your father practically begged them to raise you when your Lady Mother succumbed to the failed birthing of your baby brother. He hoped one day you may reach a higher station that you'd have been afforded, and how better to reach that than through the Starks. Your father shared a great great, a few times over, great grand parent with Ned, and ever honorable, the Lord Stark agreed to take you in.

But its difficult for a woman to rise up in the world, even harder still, in the midst of a war. Men did not like to make room for women at war but Robb was like your brother. He trusted you. And he trusted your opinion on people. It's because while the Starks held that honor must be of paramount importance, you understood not everyone held that same principle. You make sure Robb doesn't trust everyone as he trusts you.

Trust is a funny thing because you could trust someone with your life but you may not trust them to cook a chicken correctly. You may trust someone to lead a garrison of ten thousand for you and not trust them with a knife in close quarters without a guard behind you. Trust was what you dealt in — advising Robb on deals that he was to make with other Lords, even so far as traveling on his behalf.

Deals, and diplomacy — charms, and words. That was your strength.

Robb Stark insisted that Catelyn take you to the twins to aid in negotiations with Walder Frey, he deferred to you to send letters to Renly and Stannis Baratheon, you were even the one who had sent out the rallying cry at the very beginning of his great war to all his Bannermen. Everyone knew it. He was the brain, you were the mouth. The pretty, cunning, biting mouth of the young wolf.

—————

One issue you were never able to resolve was Roose Bolton. He was cold, calculating, and distant. Though he seemed to care deeply for the Northern cause, you had little to believe he was truly as passionate about Robb as King.

It began with certain issues in which you would honestly take Roose's side instead of Robb's and since you saw Roose as an ideological ally, you would shoot glances at him after Robb declared he'd have his way after all. In those moments, a bitter gaze that lingered a few seconds too long on the King in the North roused suspicion in you.

It wasn't serious. You're sure its the frustration than anyone would feel being brushed aside so many times. But as the social tension within Robbs camp rose, you felt that you must do something about it.

You don't trust Walder Frey. He wouldn't so easily brush aside a slight as heavy as the King in the North refusing his daughter's hand in marriage. He wouldn't trade it so carelessly, not even for a claim in the Riverlands. The fact was that a young boy had made him a promise and quickly threw it all away the moment he got what he needed.

Frey's resentment of all the Paramount liege lords in Westeros already made any alliance between you fragile. Compound it with more insult and well, you just didn't know what you expected from this.

So when you saw a rave flying even in the general direction of the twins, you shot it down.

The Bolton seal, you noted, as you inspected the short scroll.

Tomorrow the white sun will illuminate the darkness clouding your castle. We will dine on fishes and the hour of the wolf will drown out in history. Ensure final preparations are made.

R.B.

As you read it, you could feel blood draining from your face and you really should have gone to Robb immediately but the need to find out what plot was brewing overtook reason. When the men were drinking and dining, you snuck into Roose Bolton's tent.

—————

"Letters, letters..." You muttered. You had already checked his desk but of course the man isn't dense enough to store proof of treachery in the drawer of a desk where any young squire may stumble upon them. So you were rifling through everything, casting aside bulks of chainmail, furs, coats, anything.

As you did, your mind ran endlessly about what might happen. So the Boltons and the Freys. Eliminate them and you're forced to then castrate your own army. We were already outnumbered greatly. Losing the Boltons is a blow we may not survive even if we survive this bloody wedding.

And the reference to the white sun illuminating the darkness was not so easily lost on you. You weren't sure, but coupled with the rising tensions with the Karstark men who currently stood one third of Robb's entire army, you could take a gander to why the white sun of their sigil was mentioned in Roose Bolton's death letter.

"Looking for something?"

Roose's voice cut clear through the room, it even felt like it sliced right through your heart. Well die tonight or die tomorrow night it makes no difference to you. But it makes all the difference to the North.

You should have gone to Robb first. Your foolishness.

You straightened up and flattened the blankets on his cot down. "Just tidying up. Waiting for you, my lord," And you took a deep breath, braving a sultry look on your face before turning around.

"Me?" Roose asked, pure amusement in his voice. You'd have to work to really get him to believe you.

"All this talk of weddings, it's all I hear now. Everyone, everywhere," You hoped your hesitation wasn't visible as you draped your arms around Roose's neck and stared into his eyes.

"And why are you here, my lady, waiting for me."

You sighed, careful not to drop the ruse. Of all men why did it have to be Roose Bolton. Any other man, after not touching a woman for years, wouldn't have questioned the logic of your seduction and you'd at least have a chance to hit him over the head with a lantern, maybe a knife if you're lucky. But Roose hed his gaze with you evenly. Challenging you.

How to get him to trust you...

"Isn't it obvious?" You tilted your head, staring with the biggest pleading eyes you could muster. And you looked at his lips, just a moment of hesitation overtaking you before you leaned in and slowly molded your mouth to his.

Your heart went wild as he kissed you back, a mix of emotions forming. You were still scared for your life but you were also happy that your trick seemed to be working. And under the two dominant emotions, there was a slight hint of something else at play. You chalked up to the scandalousness of it all. It wasn't your main worry, but as a proper lady you were raised to not be caught in close quarters with another unmarried man, especially if you were doing salacious things — or if it looked like you were about to. It was also the first time you'd ever kissed a man.

Not the greatest conditions, but alas, you could care less about a tender kiss or even a few. You just need a distraction and its working. Roose kissed you back so fiercly it made you dizzy. So dizzying that you hadn't realized he reached into your pockets.

When the kiss broke, you stared up at him, his face composed and hard as stone, almost as if it hadn't affected him at all. But his lips were swollen and he stared at you, eyes betraying him to look down at your equally puffy lips and you smirked.

You made sure to hold his gaze and you let your hand trail down his front, teasing just above his crotch. "Celebrate the happy betrothal with me?"

Roose cracked a smile and nodded, a sarcastic hum rumbling from him, "Your nerves give you away, my lady." Your heart sank. "You quiver like a virgin playing at being a whore. It was almost convincing, but..." He held up the letter that you had stolen from the raven.

You let the dread overtake your face and you ran.

But you couldn't even make two steps before Roose pulled you by your wrist, back into his chest.

You struggled for a few seconds but stilled as soon as you felt cool metal under your chin.

"A deal," You spoke quickly, equally as quickly deciding you really didn't like the feeling of a cold blade pressing against the neck, that you very much did like.

"A deal?" Roose breathed the question into your ear. He was so obviously not scared or even wary of you. And you scrambled to keep the upper hand.

"I could always scream instead. You could kill me, make some excuse to cover yourself up, but that excuse wont pass, not for our King's childhood friend. You could run. You'd be dead within the fortnight if they caught you." You hoped that you weren't just spewing bullshit, "The camp is so dense. How likely are you to make it to Frey before one of Robbs catches you first? And your plan would fail. Robb would know something's wrong."

He was permitting you to continue, so you did. He wasn't so much as urging you to continue but rather, watching, knowing you would.

"I could offer your head to our king. But I imagine you wouldn't enjoy that very much. So many options but I propose the best one — you could turn on Frey, tell Robb. Warn him about Karstark, too. Wouldn't you much rather become the new Lord of the Twins than deal with a petty mess?"

Roose considered it for a couple seconds before releasing you. You're right that making you disappear would be a little more annoying that simply a petty mess. He knows he can't just let you go either. He doesn't trust you.

Whats to stop you from running to tell Robb as soon as he let you go anyway? Then he remembers that his soldiers make up the largest portion of Robb Starks army aside from the Karstarks. And that there was his leverage. That's why you were trying to reason with him. Which really means, despite everything, he could even go as far to say that he's the one with the upper hand in this situation.

You, apparently unwilling to inform Robb of his treachery, asking him to warn your King and continue to fight by his side, all you had was a secret that only the two people in this room know. Not a very good hand. You don't even have proof anymore. Roose walked over to his bed, pulling a stack of letters out from a slit in the mattress.

You sighed, kicking yourself. You were so close. And you watched him, walking to the fire at the foot of his bed with his eyes trained on you. You watched helplessly hope was scorched in the flames.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest and only now had you permitted yourself to notice it. Sitting at the edge of his bed, You wiped your forehead.

Roose chuckled. Clever girl, weighing logic and strategy, no trouble following the shifting power between you two. You knew you needed him. You knew Robb needed him. You knew the odds of winning this war was slim already now that the Tyrells had joined the fray. You knew if you gave him a reason, he might slit your little throat tonight. And sure that meant Robb might get the hint not to attend the wedding, but the Northern army would still be crushed within half a year.

And perhaps you valued that pretty little head of yours above all else.

Now, Roose took interest, evaluating you with a new eye, "What is your proposal?"

"You go, tell Robb of the plans but tell him you intended on being a turncoat this entire time."

"And what do I receive in exchange for this act of mercy."

You chuckled, "My many thanks, redemption in the eyes of the Gods," you offered sardonically, knowing the answer would come as too dismissive. You could tell Roose wasn't impresssed, "I can still tell the King, my lord, if it pleases you.

Roose, ever perplexed by your mind, drew closer but stowed his knife back in his holster, behind him. He made it so that you had to tilt your head up to look at him. "Do not think for a second that you might have the upper hand in this position, my lady. I say that, not as a threat, but as advice. Know when you do not have the upper hand. Know when to serve."

You glared up at him, scanning his eyes, baffled by his audacity. You are— "I am a—"

"Stark Ward. But not a Stark. If you go to Robb, you have no proof. I might have my own story. You and Greyjoy, bitter that you'd never truly be accepted into the Stark family plotted the demise of the King in the North, who I so faithfully served up until now. There is no reason for Robb to view me with less trust than you... The King may grow weary with paranoia. First his brother... then he doesn't know to trust his closest advisor or his sister. "

"But you---"

"I am guilty. And you have no evidence. You are asking for a favor. Tell me, what difference does it make if the King dies tomorrow or three months later on the Battlefield without my men to back him." he questioned, enunciating each word clearly, staring down at you.

You cursed yourself for sitting. The scare was not over, you should have realized. Even if the cold blade was no longer physically at your neck, Roose Bolton still had a knife to you.

"What do you want?"

He chuckled, "One day I will have a need for you. And that day, you will obey. You owe me your life, my lady. And the King's life."

You glared at the ground, wishing you could say something of his arrogance, "And Robb?"

"I will tell him of the plans. And you will not tell him the truth. Any time you think you want to tell the young wolf what we discussed in these chambers remember that it is your pretty neck and your reputation that may be in my hands." Roose gave you one last look, then whispered, "Go on now. Back to your tent."

You stood, meeting him with one last glare.

He smiled sweetly at you, nodding, "I thoroughly enjoyed the display."

—————

Your promise to Roose Bolton loomed over you every day for a month. You spent your days watching his actions closely to know when he was plotting anything, but he's yet to step blatantly out of turn.

He was showered with honors for being savior at the Red Wedding, not only becoming the official Lord presiding over the Twins, but he was given a large portion of the remaining Karstark forces, which thankfully very few deserted the King in the North after the victory at the Twins. Roose sent his Bastard to serve in his stead at Karhold, which was now under close surveillance for their treachery.

You paled to hear these developments. Because in truth you still failed to trust Roose Bolton though you hoped these gifts from the King in the North sweetened the pot enough for him to follow through with his promise to you. You simply shivered at the obscene amount of power that was showered to him.

So long as he retained the upper hand you would continue to be unsettled. You wish he would just tell you what he wants from you quickly so that you may get it over with. Really, something you think he just enjoys watching you squirm.

"Milk of the Poppy," Talisa said calmly.

And you moved to argue with your queen but hearing the screams of agony of the man being tended you, you decided there was a time and place.

The queen finished up with him quickly and turned back to you. That's when you started, "My Queen, I'm sure you're tired of hearing. And I, more than anyone else here understand your concern for the wellbeing of unnamed Lannister boy-soldiers."

Talisa, laughed, ducking her head in preparation for your words.

"But truly... Milk of the Poppy?" You pleaded, "I know it may seem cruel but it's really more of a luxury in wartime than anything. Perhaps that can be saved for the men fighting for our King."

Your queen met your eyes again but then at something behind you. Turning, you saw Roose speaking with Robb. Robb glanced at you, spoke something back to the Dreadlord and patted his arm before making his way to you. Roose spared you a glance before walking in the other direction, toward his tent.

"I'll take your words into consideration, my lady," Talisa reassured, "I understand. Thank you for stating your opinion calmly and without judgement."

You smiled in sympathy, knowing the men in the army could be quite rough around the edges with their opinions.

Talisa started again, taking some time to gather her tools "My husband is coming. I think he wants to speak with you."

Robb came up to the two of you, placing a hand on the small of Talisa's back, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering something short in her ear.

"I'll leave you to it then," Talisa said sweetly and left to find more sick to tend to.

As soon as she did, Robb's features were cast with a stern seriousness. You evaluated it, wondering if it had anything to do with Roose Bolton's conversation with him just moments before.

"What is it?" You asked.

Robb sighed, "You don't have to agree. You can think on it for a while. I know it can be daunting seeing as I'm almost sure he's older than father."

"What is it?" You pressed urgently.

"Roose Bolton asked for my blessing to take your hand in marriage."

Your heart sank, the full weight of the deal you made with Roose falling on your shoulders.

"I gave him my blessing as I have no reason not to. But I warned him that I cannot force you to be amenable." With a laugh, Robb tried to cheer you up but to no avail, "I even warned him you shared Arya's disdain for marriage from a young age."

You simply nodded, expressionless and quickly muttered something to dismiss yourself and you ran straight for Roose Bolton's tent.

—————

The route to Roose's tent felt quick, like you had stormed off from Robb and landed right at his door. Your anger bubbled at your throat and you could hardly wait before storming in and yelling at the man sat at his desk.

"So that's it?" You asked, bewildered, "That's how you aim to make me repay my debt?"

Roose didn't even look up at you as he continued to write on a small strip of parchment. "It seems with my sudden acquisition of the Twins, even if I legitimize my bastard, it will not be enough to sustain my achievements. I'm in dire need of heirs. You owe me a favor."

You were speechless for a second and you felt a laugh be punch out of your chest, the mere ridiculousness — the scale of this favor. "A favor, my lord, usually doesn't include a lifelong bind. A favor, I would imagine is a one and done type of deal." Marching to the side of his table, you attempted to command his attention, "Was the twins not enough? Was having your bastard installed as acting Lord of Karhold not enough?"

Roose looked up at you, calmly speaking. "I'd like to remind you, my lady, that had I not warned the King in the North of the Freys and Karstarks treachery, I'd have been named Warden of the North by the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Closing your mouth, you huffed, amazed by this mans blatant selfishness. Titles.

"The Twins, and temporary reign over the Karstark maneuvers pales in comparison to what I had abandoned."

"Well you our deal wasn't for me to make that loss up to you, it was so you could keep your head and remain loyal to King Robb." You shook your head, "I wont do it. If you're the pragmatic, power hungry man you claim to be, why don't you plot your way into some other lady's bed — someone who could give you another stronghold to place your seed upon? I'd just be a cow to breed, nothing else to gain from there"

"A pretty cow to breed with a respectful name and no brothers to take your family home. I'd say you're as good a match as any."

You gasped at his blatant disrespect, blood rising to your head, and you landed a firm slap to his face. You even went for seconds but he grabbed your wrist firmly. You tried to pull it away but he wouldn't let you.

"Of course, we'll have to do something about that temper of yours once we are wed," He warned, pulling you a little harshly — not too rough but enough to make you fall forward and catch yourself on his table. He stood, circling around the table, as casually as he could managed but he did adjust his jaw from the slap you landed on him. "Your spirit and smart mouth have done you well in the past but only when they are in company with your wits. Don't go losing those wits and getting yourself in trouble. As I'm sure you are aware, there are dangerous men lurking in times of war."

"Dangerous men like you," You pushed yourself off the table and faced him again, crossing your arms, "I owe you my life. What happens if I decide I'd rather die than marry you?"

"Then what will be protecting your King, if not your life?"

That took any retort out of your mouth, as this was not an avenue you'd expected him to take. You stuttered dumbly for a moment. "M-my King? What of him? They—... House Frey and the Karstarks have been dealt with. You—"

"I can still betray him. He trusts me now more than ever. If I write to Tywin Lannister detailing how the plan had been spoiled and I explain that I'd counted our losses and regained the trust of the King so that we may try again well, that'd be easy enough," He stared down at you and said the next part clearly, "You are the only thing stopping me from doing so. If you'd rather die..."

You shook your head at him, scowling. The entire North, dependent on what you say to this man. "I don't want to marry you," you stood your ground as well as you could, "Anything else, I'll do."

Roose looked to the ground next to you, "Well then," He sighed.

Then he glanced back at you, giving you a lazy once over.

He sighed again, this time more sure, straightening his back and that's when you knew he'd had an idea.

You didn't like him getting ideas. You don't like his mind and the thoughts he spins.

"Another deal. A game, more like."

You didn't trust the slight tinge of a smile. Really you just didn't trust or like this man. Every moment you're in his tent feels like a gamble. "What game?" You especially hate the idea of playing his games. Right into the bear trap, it felt like.

Where you excelled in proposing deals that suited the interests of both sides perfectly, the Boltons were infamous for creatively constructing games that were rigged from the start, in their favor.

"Part of it is that you have to figure out the rules," He smiled.

You should have known the odds were against you. They always were when it came to Roose Bolton. How does one negotiate with a man like him?

Your attention was drawn back to him when his hand came up to the pin that secured your cloak to your shoulders. He undid the on on the right, then the one on your left. And you could do nothing but watch it fall to the floor, heart racing, because suddenly you understood.

Why did you have to say "Anything"?

Of course... You watched him, his clenched jaw, barely holding back from just ripping your clothes off, and you realized: Roose Bolton is just like any other man. He only wants one thing. Married to you or not.

One and done, you wondered, Is that better?

He pulled the laces securing your dress in the front, watching his eyes greedily take in your chest as more of it was exposed. Soon, your dress hugged your waist and shoulders, barely covering your top half.

You smacked his hand away as it reached under the fabric draping at your shoulders.

The silent question in your eyes was What the fuck do you think you're doing?

Roose simply chuckled softly, “Letting me see your tits is not as bad as marrying me, is it, my lady?” Dark intentions coated his syrupy smooth voice and it made you shiver.

Breathing a long, angry sigh, you looked up at him, “I could just kill you.”

“Even if you managed, your king desperately needs Bolton men. They'll only follow a Bolton,” He spoke matter of factly, tugging your sleeves so they fell off your shoulders.

He's right. The Starks and the Boltons had no love for each other. Centuries of hate. Many Karstarks remained loyal to Robb because of the history of love between the houses. There was no such history between the Starks and Boltons.

The cool air hit your exposed skin. “Trust me,” Roose smiled satisfied with the sight before him, taking a firm handful of your breast, caressing over it and pinching the nipple as he let go, “You’d rather handle me than deal with my bastard.”

You shivered and took several steps back from him and his touch, and moved to cover your breasts with your hands as well as you could.

You’d definitely heard about his bastard. From what you knew, he was a more unhinged, less predictable version of Roose, more willing to get his hands dirty, more eager to act. You stood and let Roose’s eyes rake over your body, disgust bubbling at your throat.

“So conveniently, my best option is to either marry you or let you fuck me and ruin any marriage prospects in my future?”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Roose raised his brow, playing innocent, “I just want to see you, touch you... feel you touch me. I wont put anything inside your cunt unless you ask me to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, you dont trust his mercy, especially the last clause. Unless you ask him to. Why in seven hells would you ask him to? “What do you want me to do?”

Roose smirked widely and the look should have terrified you — you’ve never seen such twisted joy on a persons face before, especially not stoic Roose Bolton.

He stepped closer to you once more, hands coming to cradle your face and neck gently. Your hands instinctively followed, grabbing his wrists cautiously. Though a hint of that devious smirk lingered, he looked at you with gentleness between his eyes, “Lets start with another kiss,” He said, condescension lacing his voice, “seeing as my lady was so eager the last time we saw each other.”

You couldnt help but fall a little under his spell, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to figure out why you felt dizzy with him so close to you, cold eyes darting all over your face. Why your mind whirred with the memory of how hungrily he responded to you last time you were in his tent. You wondered if perhaps you had sparked something in him. If that was why he was so insistent.

You nodded softly, so soft that upon thinking on it, you wondered if it was even noticable. But Roose had been watching you closely for any sign of submission and he closed the gap between you before you could move to do anything else.

He noted how you tensed just as his lips met yours and he carefully took your hands, guiding them to wrap around his neck. You tried to relax into it as much as possible and kiss him back, but it proved difficult until his arms came around and pulled you closer to him.

His bare hand on your back made you jolt and he chuckled deeply, the rumble of it making you shy away. "Roose," You started, unsure of what you would say. That you already need a break?

Roose ignored you, hands coming back up to cup your breasts, "Fucking gorgeous. And you've been right in front of me this entire time," He spoke so lowly you almost thought he was muttering to himself. But his eyes trained on you told you different.

He leaned down the few extra centimeters to meet your lips again, this time toying with your hardened buds as he did. Your hand shot up to grab his wrist but he just pinched in response. You squealed, lips parting from his but he kept you held close.

"Behave."

You whined, glaring at him, your dignity clinging to any sliver of hope it had of remaining intact.

Roose glared right back and took your hand, leading you toward his cot. He sat you on his lap and again, turned his attention toward your chest after kissing you a few times. This time, his lips wrapped around the bud on your right while his hand toyed with the other.

You tensed as a moan threatened to escape you, especially with his tongue circling around the way it did. When he sucked and continued that technique at the same time it was difficult not to enjoy. To be honest, you didn't even know a man could enjoy a woman's body like this — so shamelessly lewd. But he promised no penetration. You assume that means he deigns to make use of your body in any other way.

It was quickly proving to be too much. You grunted a few times when moans caught in your throat, gutteral noises and sighs to keep the really embarrassing noises down. But even that was wearing thin. Your hand shot up to his head and tugged at his hair. Your back arched into him, body twitching when he'd trigger a sensitive nerve.

And before you could stop it, you sighed something a little too audible, too close to a full moan. You began trying to push his head away.

Roose grabbed your hands firmly, pushing them away and gave you a small nip as a warning. You yelped, staring at him incredulously. Then he switched to your more neglected nipple.

This same torture continued for far too long, but the result was worse than the torture itself, because you couldn't deny the pool forming in your small cloths. The pleasure of him toying with your sensitive buds just goes straight down there. You can't help it.

"My lord, h-how much more."

"I'll play with you until I'm satisfied, darling," He answered cooly, "Don't ask again."

You nodded, looking at his intense, watchful eyes. And he crashed his lips on yours again. This time, he reached beneath all the heavy layers of your skirts and pulled your breeches down. You helped him kick them off.

When the pads of his finger met your cunt, they circled around in search but he cut his search off, chuckling at what he found. You pulled away from his lips, hiding in his shoulder because you already knew what he was laughing at.

"Look at my little whore. Never been touched like this, have you? You're going to let me ruin you for your King?"

You groaned, feeling his fingers gather your slick, then he found a bundle of nerves. It felt like when he was licking your nipples— the way it tingled down there— but he was touching the exact source of it. Sometimes you'd cross your legs or gyrate your hips against a pillow and feel the same way but Wow you always thought that sensation was coming from something deeper inside you. Turns out its right there. Right at the front of your vulva.

And Roose knew. You gripped his knee and spread your legs for him as he toyed with you in ways you hadn't even known to toy with yourself. Your lips fell open but you wouldn't allow a single sound to come out, though you knew this would be far more difficult to bear than what he was doing previously.

Your body would twitch and tense up under his ministrations. Something was building within you. You'd felt this kind of feeling, grinding against soft pillows, but then the feeling would die after a little while. You'd walk away satisfied with the morsel of pleasure.

But with Roose, it wasn't going anywhere. It kept building and building.

Eventually, you thought that perhaps an end to the build was near but he diverted his fingers, playing with your opening instead, gathering more slick.

You calmed yourself, taking a few breaths to calm yourself. You looked down to see Roose staring at you, eyes hooded with a dark cloud of lust, lips parted, just taking you in like you were the most interesting, captivating thing he's ever seen.

His finger teased your entrance, pushing slightly and you ripped your gaze away from his intense eyes, studying you. Gods... Oh gods. You rolled your hips but he pulled his hand away finally.

Roose wiped his hand on your skirt. "Do you like being touched by me?"

You refused to answer, turning your head and looking anywhere else. Weakly, you shook your head no.

"Don't lie," he scolded.

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, brows furrowed, confusion behind your eyes, wondering how your body could betray you like this. But its just biology. Simple as that.

"You came close."

"Close to what?"

That made Roose smirk wider, a twinge of surprise and excitement, "Close to a release that some women can achieve while fucking." Roose took a second to compose himself before continuing, "A release that you won't experience tonight, unless it's around my cock."

Fear filled you, "You said you wouldn't."

"No, I wont," Roose cooed, a false comfort, "Not until you ask."

"I wont."

"We'll see, darling," He moved his arms from you and nudged your behind a little, "Up. Take off your dress."

You stood and obeyed, albeit hesitantly. He also took to stripping himself, but left on his small clothes. You, having already rid yourself of your breeches, were bare as the day you were born once you took off your dress.

Roose, with a hand to your waist, pulled you into him, standing in between his legs and he pressed a kiss to your stomach, trailing down to your dripping cunt. You shuddered at the thought of his tongue circling around that spot the way it circled your nipple. You don't think you could bear that.

Unfortunately for you, that was exactly what Roose had in mind. He lifted your leg so that your foot rested on the edge of his bed, which sat low on the ground. It's height provided the perfect angle for him to duck under and lick a flat stripe over your clit.

Your cunt convulsed and you were embarrassed for it because unlike your moans, you could not hide the reactions of your cunt as easily. His tongue dipped a little further, barely dipping into your hole to taste you and collect your essence on his tongue.

He groaned into you, the vibration making you bite your lip. He feasted on you like a starved man, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and gently shaking his head as he sucked. Each time he flicked his tongue sent shocks through your body and you'd buck your hips against his face.

Even just the image that you were met with when you looked down— Roose Bolton burying his face into those parts...

If him licking your nipples was considered lewd, you didn't know how to describe this correctly. You hadn't even realized that men did this in the first place. Frankly it felt like something a man like Roose would normally consider to be too debasing and submissive.

There was nothing submissive about the way Roose licked up your juices. This was a man who was confident he held all the power and you'd be stupid to underestimate him.

Whines, real wanton whines pushed through your throat, filling the open air of his tent and that only seemed to spur him on. You submitted to it, feeling his hand come under your buttock and his other wrap around your waist. He then hoisted you up in the air and gently laid you down on the bed.

Roose not so gently spread your legs and settled between them, continuing his treatment on you.

Again the coil in your core tightened impossibly tight and just as you thought you'd reach some higher pleasure. He pulled away, peppering kisses to your thigh to calm you. You breathed heavily, staring at the ceiling.

This time, having him stop was frustrating. You cant lie. And you had a feeling you were in for a rather long night. Your hand twitched, almost wanting to give yourself the pleasure that he refused but you knew Roose would not let you. This was his game.

The game where you win if you steel through and manage to out last him.

You whimpered, legs quaking softly when he carefully bent and flicked his tongue against your clit again. Even, at this point, the feeling of his stubbled cheeks brushing your inner thigh was almost too sensitive to bear. Your body was responding to everything.

Soon you were bucking against his face, cursing the gods, and repeating the process again and again.

He learned what you liked quickly and tried everything under the sun. Dipping his tongue into you, he brought you just to the precipice of something amazing by fucking you with nothing but his mouth.

Once you had settled from the near high a fourth time, Roose pulled your body closer to him and through his lustblown eyes. He whispered to you as his fingers came to tease your entrance again, "May I?"

You looked down at him, biting your lip and you wanted to say yes. Your entire being begged for it. But your pride told you to say, "Do I have a choice?"

He merely chuckled at the loss of any desire to argue within you, and he plunged two thick fingers into your cunt. You cried out, the stretch somewhat shocking to you. But you were so wet that it really just felt nice, despite being foreign.

The noise you made was something you didn't even think could be produced within you. You moved to cover your face, laughing into them neverously because holy shit you need to get a hold of yourself. You need to. You've never felt this weak in the hands of someone else.

His fingers filled you nicely but you dreaded to admit it wasn't enough. And you didn't like how stiff they felt inside you. Something softer might feel more like it belongs. something longer and thicker... Something like—

Roose growled and that noise brought you out of your trance. You stared at him for a second, his eyebrows knit together frustratedly. His fingers did their work inside your cunt while his mouth continued to torture your clit.

"Fuck! Ahhh... fuck fuck—" You groaned, gritting your teeth together as you tried to keep yourself up to watch him.

You breathlessly but sort of victoriously took note of his clear frustration. You were proving to be more stubborn than he bargained for, you assume. But he was persistent too. There was no mistaking who had the power here.

He groaned, pumping his fingers into you. It was difficult not to imagine how it would feel when you finally gave in to him. So he let you know, "Your cunt loves me, my lady. You feel it clenching around me. You're so desperate for more. All you have to do is ask."

"Eat shit," you choked out. You meant to say it more confidently, less weak and shuddery but it created the same effect within Roose as it would have either way.

His lips returned, doing only what garnered the strongest reactions from you. And you were tumbling back down the hill again.

Of course he stopped, again.

You needed more than a second to recover from that one. What was it? Five rounds of the same torture. Your body was sure to be feeling the effects of it. Your cunt continued to twitch around nothing after his fingers were unceremoniously pulled out.

You lay there, unable to do anything but watch him clean off his fingers with his mouth. And it was hot because he didn't necessarily make a show of it. Ever the practical man, he probably only used his mouth because it was the easiest, cleanest solution. But you'd never seen anything so salacious and wrong.

Well, you concede, perhaps its not wrong, just something you, again, wouldn't thought of doing. It made your hips wriggle involuntarily and your cunt clench around nothing again, missing his fingers stretching and making you feel a little closer to whole.

Roose made quick work, ridding himself of his breeches and shirt.

You barely had enough time to appreciate the defined lines of his body, toned, even at his age because he stayed active.

He's undeniably handsome. If he wasn't so evil you'd have jumped at the chance of marrying him. Even now, staring at him, the man in control of your pleasure, you wondered if being married to him would even be so bad.

And his cock... You glanced at it, then trained your eyes back on his icy gaze. He cant see you staring down there, he'll get the wrong idea like he's winning or something. But the image was burnt into your mind. You could end your suffering now and beg him to put it inside you. You could.

But then your pride jumped in and told you to stop acting a fool.

He climbed up the bed, staying to one side of you, then wrapped his arm under you, kissing you briefly. Very briefly. So briefly that when he pulled away, you felt trained to chase after his lips, expecting more. The very accidental admittance of submission was not lost on either of you, an approving chuckle leaving him as he flipped your body on its tummy.

He crawled over you, snaking a hand under your stomach to pull you up and your entire backside felt his bare skin upon it. You bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at that feeling alone, again your cunt whined and begged you to just give in. Its right there, hard and pressing against your ass.

It was dizzying, the entire experience. You'd been denied so many times.

"Remember the rules," he murmured in your ear before taking a small bite and kissing down it. "Keep your thighs tight. Until you're ready to spread them like the good little slut you are." And with that, he used his free hand to slip his cock between your damp thighs.

You'd been so stripped of any and all resistance that the dominant emotion filling you was pride at his praise, calling you a good little slut. Something so debasing shouldn't stir you this much.

You were shocked at the warmth, initially scared that he was trying to slip it inside your cunt without you noticing, but Roose stayed true to his word. He wasn't going to put it in unless you asked, unless got to the point of wanting to beg him to. That didn't mean he couldn't put it right next to the entrance to tempt you.

It took him all but two seconds to begin slowly thrusting into the crack of your thighs and you wondered if it was supposed to feel like anything for you because it felt really amazing.

It wasn't as intense as his lips on your cunt but it was more tempting. The head of his cock, when his hips would slap against your ass, would grind deliciously over your clit. You whimpered each time it happened. It was all so wet and warm down there, his cock doing nothing but spreading the mess between your thighs.

His hand came around you to grab your neck, pulling you up so that he could fuck your thighs, using you as leverage. Your cunt pulsed with desire again, wishing he'd angle his hips incorrectly on accident and it'd just slip inside.

Please just slip inside. Please, please. Please slip in.

"Fuck, Roose, It... Its so... please," You said without even thinking

A dark chuckle vibrated right next to your ear. He chewed your lobe and kissed the top of your jaw. "Tell me."

"I... mmm nothing, nothing. I..." You growled frustratedly, burrying your face in the pillow.

Tears pricked your eyes.

The frustration was really getting to you.

Five times denied.

Your hips met him, rolling back to make his thrusts easier and he growled, landing a firm smack to your buttock. You cried out into the pillow.

Having had enough of your muffled cries, Roose pulled you up, situating your neck in the crook of his arm and he hoisted you up to your knees, cock still pumping drenched between your thighs.

It was pure debauchery. Unadulterated debauchery. You felt dirty and you couldn't even bother to be embarrassed by it. You just wanted him to have an accident and slip in. But you knew Roose. You knew he was too careful.

You had to give in first.

Your heart sank, realizing this could go on for so much longer. If he really wanted to, he could release right now, between your thighs and toy with your body mercilessly until he's ready to try with his cock again. He could go on for much much longer than you could ever dream of.

Especially in this position, it was difficult not to imagine him spearing you, your walls clenching and welcoming him instead of your thighs.

Gods, the way he was just using your body. Any part of your body. You were dizzy with pleasure and longing.

“Roose just do it, you win. Fuck me, please,” You spoke through sobs. Frustrated tears trickled down your cheeks.

Roose slowed his movements but that only made your wanting worse. Your thighs literally quivered for him. He took one look at the tear streaks on your face, not having noticed the fact that you were fucking crying for his cock, since your face had just been buried in the pillows a second ago. Roose's heart nearly had a tender little lapse, but it instead, swelled his pride to see you so desperate.

He wiped your tears away with his free hand and kissed your cheek. He wasn't completely done toying with you. He had to make sure you understood what it meant to be fucked by him. Truly understood. “And take my lady’s maidenhead? Will any respectable man take you to be his bride then?”

Your heart sank deeper than it ever had, real dread filling you. You finally understood his play here.

“Of course, as an honorable man, It’d be my duty to inform them of your compromised purity. Tell them this little whore's been tainted.”

He'd riled you up this far. You thought naively that he simply wanted you to admit defeat that you desired him as much as he desired you before taking you passionately.

In reality he wasn't going to let you go even after you gave in. The second another lord comes along for your hand in marriage, Bolton will reveal this little tryst you've had.

This was his goal since the beginning.

Marriage to you has been his goal since the very beginning of this little parlay.

You whined, stomach twisting because your dignity has become a whispered scream within you, telling you not to give in. But your psychology, your biology, everything else was screaming for him. He wanted not just to fuck you but to own you.

Your thighs tightened and you grinded against his long shaft. Still in the weakest attempt to remain stubborn, you stuttered, “Just… only a little, my lord. Only the top part. If you must. But please dont put it all in. Not far enough to break the… m-my maidenhead.”

That was the moment both of you knew you lost. You'd say it was stubbornness. Maybe that's what it was. Maybe you just liked feeling helpless under him, knowing what was inevitable.

Roose reached down, the strain that his smirk had on his cheeks being felt against yours. You're happy he's happy. Truly, you are. It twists your stomach again. You think if your stomach twists again you'll just melt into Roose Bolton. Completely at his mercy.

You whimpered as he used his hand to guide his cock to your entrance and pushed in, only far enough for the tip. Breathy moans tumbled out of you, all effort to hide them completely foregone. You threw your head back against his chest, eyes closed, enjoying the teasing feeling of just his cockhead stretching you.

He alternated between faster pumps and slow ones where you could feel his tip just barely broaching your entrance before pulling away again. He liked to feel your cunt try to suck him into you. Could you get any wetter? Any more ready to take him?

You tried to cheat, you'll admit it. Bucking your hips back, but he always managed to follow your movements, not giving you a single bit more than what you asked for. Tears pricked your eyes again but your heart soared from it. You're at his mercy completely.

“Whats wrong, my lady, you seem distressed.” He wiped a tear away from the corner of your eye, threatening to fall. And the way you whined at that moment, so frustratedly, almost like you hated him, like you might kill him if you had the chance... it actually managed to crack Roose’s composure and he laughed a good hearty laugh from the bottom of his chest.

Still smiling, he tilted his head, giving a condescending hum of mock sympathy.

Roose took your chin in his hand so he can get a good look at you as he continued to tease the tip of his cock in and out of you. Your big eyes looking up at him and begging, begging. He would love to give in but you have to say it.

“I am but your loyal and humble servant. I only do what is bid of me.”

“Fuck me,” You crack, the words coming out not as intelligible words but as part of your moans.

He hummed a deep and clear “Hm?” Pretending he didnt hear but he did. You know he did.

“Please, fuck me.”

“And...”

“Please fuck me and marry me," You forced out, you cringed at the way your voice sounded, so whiny you would have thought it to be annoying and too high pitched. But it deepend the clouds of lust behind your lord's eyes. It made you keep going "Please, my lord, take me as your bride. Fuck me and then save my honor from ruin.”

Your eyes fluttered close, shutting tightly. You expected more taunting from him, anything, but you forced your eyes back to him when you felt his hot breath on your cheek, then his nose ghosting over as well. He pushed his cock in a little past the tip and you whimpered, grateful, melting into him. Your stomach twisted again. Your legs were so so so weak.

Roose tilted his head, leaning in closer and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. When he parted, you blinked, looking up into his striking blue eyes and you whimpered again because he thrusted back in, deeper, only slightly, but he met the little barrier within you and you braced yourself for the striking blow.

He captured your lips more roughly this time as he pushed through, claiming you as his. Your soft squeaks of pain and pleasure getting lost in his mouth. Roose pumped his cock in and out, slowly, waiting for you to stop tensing.

When your ass twitched upward against him, he took that as the permission. Your lips disconnected from each other, both of you left gasping. You stopped trying to hide your pleasure long ago.

Your husband to be let go of you, letting you fall down back to the bed and you caught yourself on your elbows. He grabbed your hips, using your body mercilessly as you damn near sobbed from pleasure.

The view of you bent over for him, the side of your face pressed into the sheet and submissively crying out for him was almost too much. Roose braced himself to last longer but it seemed you were also tumbling embarrassingly quickly to your release after having been denied the pleasure five times over.

"Perhaps tonight," Roose paused to grunt and in his deep, baritone, it was just too good, you whined in response, "Tonight, I will put our first baby in you. A bastard, but no one else but you and I will be privy to that technicality."

"Yes," You shook beneath him, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. And as your cunt tightened around him, Roose knew you were close.

"Beg," was the one worded command, and having learned your lesson, you obeyed nearly immediately.

"Please, let me release. Please, let me carry a son for you, husband. Whatever you need from me, please."

Roose could not deny such sweet words, he came inside you with a few purposeful jerks of his hips and you shuddered for it, the pleasure feeling as if it could blind you if you were even the slightest bit more wound up than you were in this moment. You were unaware of the fact that your pussy, having a mind of its own, continued to pulse, milking Roose Bolton for everything he had to offer.

The sizable load immediately spilled out onto the sheets after your intended slipped out of you. You laid there afterward, with your ass up, desperately attempting to recollect yourself as quick as possible.

You moved to get up but Roose landed a firm but not too painful smack on your ass. It wasn't too hard but in your state, it succeeded in knocking you back down to your hands with how weak your legs were.

"That's for striking me earlier," He said, icily, then he handed you a cup of water, waiting for you to take it before he started to wipe away at the mess he'd left between your legs with a spare rag of his.

The act was more tender than you'd have expected from Roose, especially when he pressed a small, short kiss to your buttock and gave it another playful smack.

"Stubborn little wife."

That brought a pleasant little heat to your cheeks.