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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 1 month

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The Northern Winds

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader

Warnings: mention of blood & (domestic) violence, mature NSFW content (18+), mention of sexist and misogynistic medieval notions on women, arranged marriage

A/N: The story is set a few years before the Dance of the Dragons and somewhat inspired by Cregan's first marriage from the book. Many of the characters are fictional of my own imagination but I tried to keep some and the setting as close to Martin’s universe as possible – with some changes here and there for the sake of the plot.

Plot: Arranged marriage between the Lord of Winterfell and a lady from a minor house

Words: 18k

MASTERLIST

***

Letters of more and more wildling invasions of the Wall, reports of their hosts gathering even south of the Wall reached the halls of Winterfell on a weekly basis in the past months. When young Lord Stark rightfully took his father’s seat from his usurper uncle, he also pushed the wildlings back north. However that was some years ago and winter was knocking on the door. The wildlings have become bolder even.

Lord Stark was working with Maester Bennard, his most trusted advisor, on letters of diplomacy and matters that needed the noble seal of the Warden of the North. The solar where the Lord of Winterfell worked was located in Rodrick’s Tower, the largest of all of Winterfell’s towers. A smaller tower grew from its western wall a few hundred years ago where the Lords Stark carried on their duty to their people as masters of Winterfell.

A fire was lit in Lord Stark’s solar and many more candles to light the spacious chamber. The stone walls were lined with scrolls of parchment and important letters, which arrived from both the north and the south, along with some books containing lineages and retellings of the great events of Westeros. There was a great oaken desk in the middle of the solar and yet close enough to the window to allow for some more light. Behind it sat Lord Cregan Stark in the company of his maester, who handed him the most recent letters of the lords closest to the Wall, who were all asking for aid in the fight against the wildlings.

Maester Bennard hesitated as the matters of the day came to an end. “There was another letter, my lord.” Lord Stark pressed his seal into the hot wax. “From Whytefort.” Lord Stark’s hard grey eyes rose to meet his maester’s. Although Cregan Stark was a young man, he was much his father’s son; much a Stark. While his face displayed youth on the one hand, he was a man of solemn expression and of a formidable build. The Wolf of the North commanded respect in his subjects and was regarded as an honourable man and a great warrior. Unlike the Lord of Whytefort.

“Apparently Lord Whytefort shares our struggles with containing the wildlings on the northern side of the Wall, particularly in the mountains. As you know, castle Whytefort lies—”

“At the foot of the Iceraven, yes,” said the Lord of Winterfell. Iceraven was a mountain chain stretching from the north of Deepwood Motte all the way to the Kingsroad. It was in the shape of a flying raven’s wings with its peaks covered in ice and snow all throughout the seasons, hence the name. The Whytefort was built in the foot of the mountain; its stone, white walls making the castle one with the mountain and its caves. Although Deepwood Motte was the seat of House Glover, the Lords of Whytefort had maintained their seat, on what were officially Glover lands, beneath the Iceraven for thousands of years. But what land they had, it was watery and more clay than it was soil. However, it mattered little because the Whyteforters were mountain men. They were shepherds and craftsmen. And although not particularly wealthy or strong of a house, their words read Pride is our honour.

“There was a falling out when my father was still the Lord of Winterfell,” recalled Cregan Stark. The maester nodded. “Jonos Whytefort refused to bend the knee to Lord Glover as his liege lord, not even when Lord Rickon demanded he does so.”

“Why does he send a raven now?” asked Lord Stark rather displeased. It has been a long day of tedious letters and little solutions on how to face the wildling problem. “Which noble house offended his pride this time?”

“Actually,” broke Maester Bennard, “Lord Jonos offers his men to join forces with Winterfell against the wildlings. He speaks in the thousands.”

Lord Stark frowned as he looked at his maester. Even just five hundred and a thousand well-trained even if not seasoned men could make all the difference in defending the Wall and pushing the wildlings back. It would take a significant strain off his own greybeards and the rest of the houses sworn to House Stark on whom he called for aid. Yet although houses honourable and strong like Dustin, Umber, Karstark, and even Glover were more than gland to answer their lord’s call with nothing but good favour in return, that was not the way of House Whytefort.

“What does he ask in turn?” spoke the young Lord Stark gravely.

“He …” began Maester Bennard hesitantly. “He offers his daughter’s hand in marriage, and therefore the end of animosity sealed by this marriage arrangement.”

Lord Stark scoffed. “Of course he does. Does he also suggest which one of my three wretched cousins I should have the pretentious wench wed to?”

“Actually, Lord Jonos’ offer extends only to your person,” spoke Maester Bennard cautiously.

Lord Stark’s eyes darkened at the audacity expressed by Lord Whytefort through the making of this offer. Cregan squeezed the brass seal of his house in his large hand, leaving an imprint of the direwolf on his palm. Still, as the wildling attacks grew stronger by the month, Cregan was not in an entirely clear and straightforward position to refuse thousands of trained warriors.

“My lord will have to marry sooner or later,” offered Maester Bennard in consideration.

“I’d rather have it later than sooner,” said Lord Stark. He had only been Lord of Winterfell some years. It was his duty to marry but he had rather hoped it could wait a while longer. “And you advise it, Maester Bennard? Whytefort is a small house. They have some land but most of it belongs to the mountains. Little wealth to speak of …”

“I do, my lord, under the circumstances. Winter is coming and the Wall must needs be secured before it arrives. We do not know how long the winter will last this time. We might not even have enough for our own, much less to feed a mass of wildlings.”

Cregan Stark knew of that without his maester having to say it. He looked through the window and saw the snows sticking to the grey rooftops of the castle. Although this was still just summer snow he was watching fall, Lord Stark knew one thing was certain. Winter is coming. And with it cold and death. There was no time to waste.

Lord Stark got up. “Have a raven sent, Maester Bennard. I leave the arrangement of this folly in your hands.”

"As my lord commands."

***

“Do you know what the girl is like?” asked Cregan Stark as he took his supper in Rodrick’s Tower. Maester Bennard was often by his side even at mealtimes as the work often could not wait.

“I believe you met her once, my lord. As a boy of nine or ten if I am not mistaken,” said Maester Bennard, helping himself to some black pudding. Lord Stark washed down his meal with a small cup of ale. He had no recollection of any young Lady Whytefort or the Whyteforts ever visiting Winterfell. As mountain men they more oft than not kept to their lands beneath or atop the Iceraven.

“They visited Winterfell on their way to castle Cerwyn for Lord Cerwyn’s son Erick’s wedding. You may remember from your studies that Lady Whytefort is Lord Erick Cerwyn’s half-sister.” Cregan Stark nodded although he had no memory of ever learning that either. His mind must have been on swordplay or horse riding at the time Maester Bennard instructed him in the family ties of the minor houses of the North. He was desperate, however, for his mind to conjure an image of his future wife, even if only from childhood.

“I do not remember them visiting,” said Lord Stark. There hardly passed a week in his life without a visit at Winterfell from this or that house, family, or merchant.

“They only stayed the night before riding out in the morrow, so naturally you may not recall,” said Maester Bennard. “It was a long time ago …” he spoke more quietly as he knew what his lordship would ask him next.

“What do you remember of the girl, maester?”

“I …” hesitated Maester Bennard. “I know you are of age with the lady,” said the maester but that is not what Lord Stark was asking. His grey eyes were as cold as stone as they commanded the maester to speak plainly. “I remember, I believe, as a child she was neither entirely plain nor very comely. Or particularly well-mannered for a young lady - a rebellious child. She favoured the company of her horse and dog to that of the court and needed to be forced into a dress as she preferred breeches and jerkins, often stealing them from her older brother Daeron from what I heard. It was said to be a nightmare for her lady mother,” said Maester Bennard and took a sip of warm honeyed wine. “He, Daeron, is the future Lord of Whytefort and was named after his grandsire. You may remember him better,” said Maester Bennard. He would not lie to his lordship of his recollections. However, no matter how homely, or brazen if she is to be judged after her lord father?s character, the maid might have grown up to be, the wedding was imperative in taking place.

“The brother,” Maester Bennard cleared his throat, “Was said to be the one to have inherited the beauty of his parents. He was three-and-ten when you met him, the same age as you were when your lord father died. “Lord Jonos, however, assures Lady Y/N is as comely a beauty as any northern, or for that matter, southern lady. He sings praises of her wit and promises she is an accomplished young woman,” added Maester Bennard although neither himself nor Lord Stark were inclined to trust the words of a man whose pride exceeded his sense of honour – or duty for that matter. However, to Cregan Stark they represented the same. His duty was his honour and his honour was his duty. No Stark had ever broken his word and he had given his to Lord Jonos Whytefort to marry his daughter in exchange for a few thousand men.

“We shall know soon enough,” said the Lord of Winterfell soberly as he set down his cup and retired to his private chambers. The raven sent by Whytefort’s maester read their lord and his daughter would arrive in half a moon, which meant they would arrive on the morrow when the wedding ceremony would also take place.

***

The summer snows were melted by the sun during the day whilst the nights would remain as cold and crisp as ice. It was afternoon already when Lord Jonos arrived with his surprisingly unnumerous host of noblemen and women to witness the marriage of his only daughter to the Warden of the North. The castle had been in preparation of the feast for days before the arrival of Lord Whytefort. The main hall was being decorated in ribbons and flowers in the colours of House Stark and House Whytefort, whose banner bore a carmine brown fox on a field of black with white trees, symbolising the birchwood of their lands.

The ceremony was to be held in the godswood inside the castle walls of Winterfell beneath the heart tree as was customary in the North, where the faith of the Old Gods remained. As Cregan’s own father was dead, it would be Maester Bennard who would lead the ceremony as the most senior of Cregan’s advisors and one Lord Stark personally considered a friend.

The host arrived late in the afternoon although they were expected in the morning. The Warden was irked but would not let it show. Lord Cregan stood tall and solemn as he waited for his guests, for his future bride, in the main courtyard of the castle. The sound of hooves long echoed the walls of Winterfell before a host of wedding-adorned horse riders crossed the innermost gates. Cregan Stark recognized Lord Jonos from his short visit to Winterfell quickly upon his arrival. He had mousy blonde hair and eyes as blue as the sea of Tarth. He was a reasonably tall man with some belly brought on by age and too many barrels of ale. Lord Jonos rode on a white palfrey with his son by his side on a mount of a coat that matched the Whytefort’s fox in colour. Daeron was a comely young man like the maester said, his eyes as green as summer trees with a head of rich dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He sat high in his horse yet not half as high as his lord father. The host of riders rounded in the vast courtyard, leading the way for an ornate carriage. To the onlookers, Lord Stark, the Warden of the North, was calm and dignified. But inside, Cregan felt a storm gathering. It was the displeasure of meeting a man so prideful that he would offer his daughter to the Lord of Winterfell without invitation; but mostly, a man who was too arrogant to bend the knee at the command of his most senior lord for a petty feud with House Glover over some land later won by the latter. Yet it was not only pride and arrogance that Lord Jonos Whytefort was famous for but also for containing an equal measure of tightfistedness as well as greed.

Half a dozen riders and a couple of wagons with supplies followed the carriage until it came to a stop and Lord Jonos dismounted along with his first-born and only son.

“Lord Stark,” said Lord Jonos Whytefort, bowing his head curtly. His son echoed his actions. Lord Stark was almost surprised at Whytefort’s courtesy. Yet if they had not been expressed properly, more would have been at stake for Lord Jonos rather than for the Lord of Winterfell.

“Lord Jonos,” said Cregan Stark and squeezed the man’s thick, gloved hand warily. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark. It was a surprisingly long journey.”

“Indeed,” said Cregan. “We had expected you this morning.”

Lord Jonos laughed, revealing that not only his belly but his teeth were affected by the too many barrels of ale. “Yes, indeed. The wheel of the carriage broke. There was replacing needed,” said Lord Jonos lightly although the spare wheel rested securely untouched in one of the wagons that followed the host.

“Of course,” said Lord Stark curtly although his hands itched to send Lord Jonos back to the mountains whence he came from. As he continued about their tedious journey from the security of their mountain hold, Cregan Stark’s gaze moved behind Lord Whytefort. The carriage door was held open, a woman round with curves and black hair secured in a net of pearls stepped from the carriage. For a moment, Cregan’s chest grew heavy with the burden of duty as he considered that may be his bride and Lord Jonos had tricked him by singing praises of his daughter's beauty. But the woman could not have been his bride as she must have been twice, nearly thrice Lord Cregan's age. The discomfortable thought disappeared when another figure emerged from the carriage and he realized the first woman must have been Lady Whytefort, the wife of Lord Jonos. She held her daughter’s hand and helped her climb from the carriage. Lady Y/N held up her rich black velvet skirts until her feet reached the floor. Her gown was trimmed with the fur of the carmine fox of her family’s banner and she wore a chain of white gold around her neck. The Lord of Winterfell came to realize that Lord Jonos must have been truthful for the first time in his life when he wrote of his daughter's comeliness.

Maester Bennard, who was among those to greet Winterfell’s guests, recognized the child he saw so many years ago in the young lady before him. Her eyes were still restless and deep as pools but they grew a warmth only changing into a woman grown can bring. There was no sight of men’s breeches or her brother’s jerkins. The gown young Lady Whytefort wore hugged her womanly body, the curves of her figure evident even with a heavy cloak hanging from her shoulders. The person he remembered was a child rebellious and wild, but the one standing before him was a woman grown and noble.

The cold, fresh air filled Y/N lungs, easing some of the sickness the ride in the stuffy carriage inflicted on her insides. Y/N looked up at the tall castle walls, the massive bricks of grey stone and granite towering over her. Her new gaol, she thought. She looked around until her eyes met those just as grey and cold as the castle walls. Y/N averted her gaze as her mother led her to where her lord father and her future husband were waiting. Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage as she suddenly felt as hot as if she had arrived in Dorne and not in Winterfell.

Lord Jonos went on about their journey still, oblivious of his wife or his daughter’s presence or the decency of making their acquaintances. As Lord Jonos finally reached for breath, Lady Whytefort spoke, “Lord Stark, allow me to present my daughter, Lady Y/N of Whytefort.”

Y/N bowed graciously but managed no more than a glance at her future husband’s eyes. He was taller than her father even and the heavy cloak he wore made him appear as if there were two men beneath it rather than one. Lord Cregan Stark was as formidable a figure as any she had met.

“Well met, Lady Whytefort,” said Lord Stark curtly as he kissed her gloved hand.

“My lady,” said Lord Stark and turned to Y/N. He took her hand, not ungently, and kissed the top of her knuckles. Y/N could almost feel the warmth of his large hand although the both of them wore thick leather gloves. There was a sword strapped on his back, almost as tall as he was. Ice it was called, Y/N remembered from a book she read on the Kings of the North many years ago. It was Valeryan steel and passed on from generation to generation just the same as Visenya Targaryen’s Dark Sister.

“Welcome to Winterfell,” said Lord Stark to his future wife.

"Thank you, my lord," Lady Y/N thanked him but her voice collected although weaker than her normal self. She had been fighting off suitors for years and successfully so. But there was no way she was getting out of this marriage. She would not dare as the prospect of it was too good for her family. Unlike her father, whose pride was built on wealth and possession, Y/N’s pride consisted of honour and love she held for her family.

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” spoke Lady Whytefort assuredly. “Our apologies for arriving late. We … Had some trouble on the road,” she explained although her eyes twitched towards her husband for a moment. She was a beautiful woman once with raven black hair and honey brown eyes. The children of Lord and Lady Whytefort were a mixture of their parents each in their own way.

As Y/N fixed her cloak when the evening breeze blew through the courtyard and the courtesies between Lord Stark and her father continued. She took in the many faces which observed the arrival of her family: her arrival – the future Lady of Winterfell. Just the sound of it in her head was incomprehensible to her, what more the reality of her being there, in that moment. Y/N could never imagine herself wed and bearing children for her husband. She was much happier studying books the maesters gave her, happier taking drawing lessons, even doing needlepoint. She could not imagine relinquishing the freedom of riding her mare through Whytewoods, secretly wishing she had been born a boy rather than a girl. The freedoms enjoyed by her brother were always right in front of her eyes but never hers to savour. The life she wanted was denied to her on the account of her existence as a woman. There were times when she wished for a family of her own, a husband to share her life with. But whenever her father would arrange for a suitor, Y/N knew she would rather end up an oldmaid rather than marry and relinquish what little freedom was left to her. However, when her lord father gave her the news of her betrothal to the Lord of Winterfell, to the Warden of the North, she had no choice but to accept the decision for she understood what the match would represent for her family. She would no longer have to worry about her beloved mother in the old age, her brother losing his seat to greater, more powerful houses, or even worry about her father, whom she somehow loved deeply and despised at the same time, for there would be always the power of Winterfell standing behind them.

All the while Y/N attempted to distract herself with the architecture, with the people both common and noble observing her, she could not help but feel Lord Stark’s cold grey eyes burning into her like ice. She would not meet her future husband’s gaze for more than a moment though or she feared her eyes might let in tears. Lady Y/N was very good at letting people to believe she was calm and assured of herself. And the one thing Y/N vowed to herself was that she would not allow anyone to see how she truly felt inside at the prospect of this marriage; of leaving her life behind, her family and friends, her freedoms.

***

Lady Y/N, her mother, and their handmaids were showed to their chambers where Y/N was to prepare for the wedding ceremony. Although the colours of her house were black, white, and carmine, her wedding gown did not have any black in it. Her father claimed it was bad luck. Instead, Y/N wore a gown of cream white fabric as soft as butter. The handmaids helped her with the bell sleeves and the lacing, adjusting her stockings and helping her with her shoes, whilst her lady mother placed a necklace of white pearls and a single carmine ruby around her neck.

Y/N’s hands were cold with sweat at the thought of the night that was coming. Her fingers shook too gravely to clasp her own earrings. Saera, Lady Y/N's handmaiden, who was helping her dress one final time as Y/N would be required to take new handmaids from the morrow forward as Lady Stark of Winterfell, adjusted her earrings. At last, they clasped a heavy maiden’s cloak around her shoulders. This one did sport the black of House Whytefort but only at the hem. The collar was carmine fox fur and the chain a silver link fastened around the neck. Y/N’s mother wept at the sight of her daughter on her wedding day.

It was already dark when the party descended the castle and was shown to the godswood where the ceremony was to take place. Lady Y/N could feel the fire from the torches the guests carried but her body shivered from cold. Or fear.

In the godswood of Winterfell stood the largest heart tree Y/N had ever seen. Although there was some snow on the ground with small, almost invisible snowflakes falling, the tree stood proud with blood-red leaves crowning its branches. Y/N’s breath quivered as she looked up at the guests. There were not very many and yet still too many for her comfort. She saw two dark figures right beneath the heart tree, one tall and one much shorter, the maester Lady Y/N had seen upon her arrival. The face of the heart tree beckoned haughtily for her to approach. Lord Jonos clasped his daughter’s hand around his elbow, leading her to the weirwood tree.

“Stop shaking,” he gritted through his teeth, his intense blue gaze finding his daughter’s. There was ale on his breath as Lord Jonos refused to go sober at his daughter's wedding, particularly when it was at the expense of Winterfell rather than his own house.

Y/N could not say a word, her mouth to dry to speak although she had a cup of mulled wine to warm her up as she got ready. She tried to swallow but it was like trying to swallow a spoonful of sand. “And don’t even think of anything stupid,” said Lord Jonos and squeezed her hand so firmly in his that the bones in her fingers near cracked. “The future of our house depends on this.” His words weighed even heavier in Y/N's chest.

They stopped at the heart tree opposite of Lord Stark, whilst Maester Bennard stood at the head of the party. Cregan Stark wore the colours of his own house, standing tall in the sight of the Old Gods. There was not an emotion on his face that Y/N could read other than what she had learned was his usual, formidable self.

Lord Stark, however, could not help but notice the tremble in his bride's small, delicate hands and the tension in her body.

It was beginning to snow once again but thankfully the ceremony would be short unlike the southern weddings before the Seven.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” began Maester Bennard at once.

Lord Jonos spoke, “Y/N, of House Whytefort, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“I, Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Who gives her?” spoke Lord Stark, his voice strong and unmoving.

“Jonos, of House Whytefort, Lord of Whytefort,” said Y/N’s father as he let go of her hand.

“Lady Y/N, do you take this man?” asked Maester Bennard. For but a moment, Y/N considered what it would be like to run away. She would not come far. She also wondered of the fury her father would inflict on her for ruining such a perfect match. Her mother would be heartbroken and her brother livid.

“I take this man,” spoke Y/N at last, her voice weaker than she intended. She glanced at her husband’s grey eyes for but a moment before looking away. Tears threatened to water her eyes but she forced them back.

Lord Stark unclasped Y/N's maiden’s cloak as her body tensed and replaced it with his own, one with the sigil and the colours of House Stark. The fabric weighed heavy on her shoulders but it was warm, warmer than her own cloak had been. Neither did it smell like her. Its scent reminded her of pinewood and cloves.

Y/N pulled the cloak closer to her. It is done, she thought, and somehow her chest weighed less heavy than only minutes ago. She did not know why because this was the easiest part. It was the night that frightened her. And the morrow. And every day that would follow.

The wedding feast was held in the main hall. There was no scarcity of wild boar, of venison, nor of suckling pig. There was hot bread and tarts, lemon cakes and pastries occupying every corner of every table. Wine was served, Dornish red and Arbor white. There was even hippocras. And ale by the barrel. Her father was the first to be in his cups, having begun before the wedding ceremony, and entertained his noble and less noble friends at the end of the longtable to where he changed seats from his daughter's side. Her mother sat next to Lord Stark chatting happily away with one of the ladies. There was no one for Y/N to talk to but her husband, a man she hardly knew; a man she knew not at all. She thought the night might be easier if they spoke other than just courtesies.

Y/N took a cup of Dornish red from one of the servants and drank until she felt the warmth in her cheeks.

“I remember staying at Winterfell as a child,” spoke Y/N, finding the courage in her cup. “It was just for one night but I thought it looked much smaller then.” Cregan did not know what to say. He looked at his wife, taken back by the sudden break of silence. She had not even looked him in the eye more than half a dozen times since she arrived, much less spoke to him. At first, he thought it vanity yet when he saw her in front of the Old Gods, he understood her silence did not grow from pride or arrogance but something else, a mystery.

“I beg your forgiveness, my lady, but I cannot recall your time here at Winterfell. My maester, however … Given what he said of your being like as a child, I half expected you would arrive on horseback,” confessed Lord Stark, not displeased with the idea at all, yet hardly being able to imagine someone as quiet and reserved as Lady Y/N to arrive in anything less than an ornate carriage.

“Would that I could,” said Lady Y/N, finding her voice as she smiled a small smile at the thought of herself as a child. “But my father insisted I ride in the box.”

“The box?” inquired Lord Stark.

“It’s just as small, it’s wooden, and it’s as uncomfortable as anything. I’d be more comfortable riding on top of a cabbage cart,” said Lady Y/N earnestly, her voice quiet, but Cregan let out a warm, hearty laugh. Lady Y/N turned to him, drawn to the sound of his laughter, which even made her smile. She dared look at him properly for the first time since they met that afternoon. He looked like as a Stark as any: dark brown hair, a somewhat elongated face, and grey eyes, which suddenly seemed a lot warmer to her than the stone cold one's she saw that afternoon. She already knew he was tall but now that he had removed his heavy cloak, she saw the rest of his body too. His shoulders were wide and his chest strong beneath the metal sigil of the wolf clasped where his collarbones would meet. He must have shaven clean in the morning but Y/N could see there were hints of stubble protruding from his strong jaw. His hands were strong and muscular; strong enough to wield that inconceivably large sword belonging to his house, Ice. The thought suddenly frightened her. Her father never raised a hand to her but his raising a hand to her mother was hardly a rare occurrence.

The smile disappeared from Y/N’s lips as she looked at her hands resting at the edge of the table. She reached for her cup and drained what little was left in it. Lord Stark must have noticed the change in her mood.

“I understand Winterfell must seem daunting, my lady,” he spoke sincerely. “I got lost here countless of times myself as a child, and I was born here.” Lord Stark spoke with a warm northern accent. Y/N gazed around the room and nodded. Not because she agreed but because she could not make herself say anything else. She paused.

“It is not the castle that frightens me,” Y/N spoke out of the sudden, regretting it the moment the words flew out of her mouth. Wine be damned.

“What then, my lady?” asked Cregan without thinking. Lady Y/N smiled to herself as she glanced down at her hands before raising her gaze to him. She looked into his eyes but for a brief moment although it seemed to him to last a century at least. Her lips parted gently but no words passed them. Lady Y/N gave him a small, reassuring smile. She looked away and helped herself to a small lemon cake that she did not finish not even by the end of the night. But it was then in her smile that the Lord of Winterfell realized the mystery of his bride’s silence – fear, not of Winterfell itself, but of him. And she hid it so well. There was an air of assuredness and confidence about her, the way she moved and spoke, even if only with her eyes. But underneath it all, Y/N found herself feeling more vulnerable than ever.

As Cregan was about to speak to his wife, Lord Jonos bid her to dance as was customary of the father of the bride. If he hand not been in his cups, he might have been a half decent dancer. Lady Y/N, however, was as graceful a dancer as any. Her creamy white skirts seemed to become one with her body as she stepped and turned to the beat of the waltz. As the song came to an end, Lord Jonos coughed from fatigue as he stumbled back to his company, leaving his daughter alone in the middle of the hall. He considered his obligations at this wedding met and returned back to the feast. As Y/N was to return to the high table on her own, a warm hand caught hers. She looked up and found herself face to face with her husband, the great Lord of Winterfell. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise but there was no time to hesitate as the music already began to play. She moved to the beat of the music, noticing how everyone was staring at them as they became the centre of attention.

“I didn’t think you dance, my lord,” said Y/N, hardly being able to look up into her husband’s eyes. The older she got, the less desire she had to look people in the eyes.

The Lord of Winterfell seemed much more a man suited to the battlefield rather than the cobblestones of a dancecourt. He was too tall and too broad in the shoulders to dance as elegantly as any singer could, nevertheless, he was sure of step and held a strong frame.

“I don’t,” said Lord Stark as their arms locked in a figure that demanded a turn. Y/N looked at him.

“Then why …” she wondered out loud before she could stop herself.

“Because you are the Lady of Winterfell,” said Lord Stark unemotionally as the dance slowly came to an end. “And your father is a wretched fool,” he spoke with distaste just before the music quietened. Lady Y/N stared at her lord husband as he kissed the top of her fingers and escorted her back to the high table where they sat together.

“Thank you,” she spoke gratefully, so used to her lord father forgetting his manners when he was in his cups, or sober for that matter, that the gallantry of Lord Stark seemed as strange to her as the sun rising at dusk. The tone of the Lord of Winterfell's voice, however, made her uneasy.

“There is nothing to thank, my lady,” said Lord Stark, his ice-cold voice melting some.

“It is to me, my lord.” Y/N had some more of that lemon cake for she could feel the Dornish red mingle with her blood far more intensely than she had intended. She had been travelling all day and had been on the road for near half a moon. The wine stuck to her as easily as mud to boots on a rainy day.

As the guests, Lord Jonos' group of primitive nobles in particular, suddenly began shouting “BEDDING! BEDDING! BEDDING!” in unison, Y/N flinched, her hand colliding against Lord Stark’s arm as her eyes widened. She had asked her father not to do this, not to encourage this ribald practice, and he agreed. He even gave her his word. In his cups however, Lord Jonos had no recollection of making his daughter such a promise.

Y/N’s stomach twisted into knots as she grew sick with anxiety when she saw the guest approach her with their greedy hands.

The Lord of Winterfell stood up, towering over most any man in the hall. His grey eyes turned as cold as stone as his brows furrowed into a formidable frown. The music stopped and guests settled down to hear what the Warden of the North had to say.

“I would not draw a sword at anyone on my wedding day, my lords,” spoke Lord Stark in a loud, solemn voice. The bawdy smiles of the wedding guests drained from their mouths. Y/N looked up at her husband, her own lips parting. Her heart was beating so wildly, she thought it might jump from her chest.

“Least of all at my father-in-law,” said Lord Stark with ice in his voice as he looked Lord Whytefort, who stood at the head of the ribald guests, straight in the eye. Lord Jonos clenched his jaw, slowly blinking his blood-shot eyes.

“As you wish,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s your wedding night, my lord.” Lord Jonos grasped his cup, having to lean against the high table to steady himself as he drank. Lord Stark glared at the singers who began to play once again immediately. The guests returned to their cups and cakes grumbling as Lord Cregan took Y/N’s hand as the feast continued without them.

Lady Y/N’s face was flushed with fever, her body tense like a bowstring. Lord Stark held her hand tightly as he led her through the hallways of Winterfell. His step was much longer and faster than hers for she struggled to keep up. As she skipped a step, Lord Stark realized how fast he was walking fuelled by fury. He stopped and took a moment to look at his wife. Lady Y/N’s chest was rising and falling quickly, the skin on her cheeks and neck flushed with heat. Her lips were parted and her eyes big and deep as pools.

“Forgive me, my lady,” said Lord Cregan and kissed her hand, holding it more gently as he calmed his anger. Her fingers disappeared in his large, calloused hand, engulfed by the warmth of his touch.

“Whatever for?” breathed Lady Y/N. I should be on my knees with gratitude, she thought to herself. Because of everything that had just happened – or might have happened. If the bedding had taken place, her clothes would be stripped from her body as the male guests would carry her to her wedding chambers, most likely groping at her body and sometimes even waiting outside the door to ensure the marriage was truly consummated.

“I …” began Lady Y/N, trying to find the words to express all the things she was feeling: the gratitude, the fear, the confusion … But before she could gather her thoughts into words, Lord Cregan cupped her Lady Y/N's face with his large hands, the thumb of his hand brushing across the corner of her lips. Goose pimples rose on her arms as he leaned down some, his grey eyes shifting between her lips and her eyes. Cregan leaned in and kissed his lady wife. The loose strands of his long hair grazed against Lady Y/N’s forehead as she responded instinctively to Lord Cregan’s touch. All the fear she felt beforehand melted from her as her hands gently leaned against Lord Stark’s broad torso. Y/N pulled away slowly but Lord Cregan leaned in once again and found her lips. The fingers of his right hand caught in her hair as they reached further, supporting her neck and jaw. The skin of her entire body tingled with fever as Lord Cregan broke the kiss hesitantly, his hand finding hers once again.

“Come,” asked Lord Stark, his voice quiet and hoarse. He led her up the stairs, some wider then others, taking turns that Y/N could not memorize even if she tried. Her body was trembling with expectation, a mixture of fear of the unknown creeping in as well as Lord Stark pushed open a great oaken door that led to his private chambers. The fire crackled in the hearth as the snow grew stronger outside the windows of Winterfell. The chambers were near as vast as the main hall split in half with its own table laden with cheese, fruit, and wine, and flowers and candles for light. There was the chambers' own dressing area and a private privy that belonged to the apartments as well. There were painted chests, ottomans, and chairs and great, ornate tapestries with scenes of hunting, the godswood, and the red and white heart tree. Opposite of the hearth was the bed with a vast feathered mattress, soft pillows, and furs for warmth.

“Some wine?” asked Lord Stark distractedly as he turned to look at his wife. His eyes were a daze of grey clouds.

“No,” said Lady Y/N quietly and shook her head. A loud bang erupted from the courtyard beneath the tower with Lord Cregan’s private chambers. Y/N winced, her eyes wide as they darted towards the window of painted glass. Lord Cregan frowned when Lady Y/N squeezed his hand and her focus shifted.

“Nothing to fear, my lady” said Lord Stark in a quiet, reassuring voice. “They are only celebrating.”

Y/N nodded to herself, “Of course.”

Cregan gently tugged on Lady Y/N's hand, bringing her closer to him. Breath caught in the back of Y/N’s throat as he towered over her, his nose brushing against hers before he kissed her lips. Her hands rested against his chest as his locked around her waist. Lord Cregan pulled on the strings of her wedding dress, releasing the bow that held the topmost layer of the gown in place. The fabric loosened around Y/N’s chest before Cregan tugged on the open wings of the back of the dress and exposed her shoulders. He left soft yet hungry kisses along her neck as his hands found the hem of her skirt. Cregan pulled the bottom of Y/N’s gown past her hips and knelt. He kissed her stomach never minding the chemise as he blindly found the strings of Y/N’s corset and pulled it apart. The fragrance of her skin, of cloves and orange blossom, urged him on as he rose and began unbuckling his leather jerkin that bore the metal sigil of House Stark. Y/N helped Cregan with the strings of his tunic as best as she could as her fingers were still a trembling mess. Y/N was no longer afraid like she expected it. Her instincts prevailed and she was surprised at herself how much she wanted it. How much she wanted him, the Lord of Winterfell.

Cregan pulled his tunic over his head, allowing for his strong, muscular body to be observed. Perhaps it was the wine or some new found courage but Y/N softly pushed Lord Stark towards the bed where he sat down. They were almost at a height now. Cregan’s hands slid from her upper back to her hips where they settled securely, pulling her to his lap without ever detaching his lips from hers. He reached for the hem of her silken chemise and pulled it over her head. In nothing but her stockings, Y/N helped Cregan undo his breeches as he kicked off his shoes absently, his lips tracing the line from her neck to her chest.

“Gods,” Cregan murmured against her hot skin, his voice as hoarse as broken glass. He left soft, hungry bites and kisses along her breasts as his hands gripped onto her hips securely. He laid Y/N on the bed and quickly pulled off his breeches before his lips found the one place he felt they belonged: between his wife’s soft, creamy thighs.

Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into the furs and linen. She closed her eyes and forgot to breathe as her toes curled in pleasure. When a soft whimper escaped her lips, Y/N’s cheeks flushed redder still but Cregan did not seem to mind. Rather his arms wrapped even tighter around his wife’s thighs as his kisses were fuelled with insatiable hunger. A mass of heat began forming in Y/N’s abdomen, the tension in her body growing higher and higher. She tried to contain her moans but could not help herself. The pressure dispersed from her body as she remembered to breathe and she breathe heavily. Y/N’s eyes closed involuntarily as one of her arms rested across her forehead. For a moment, she was both lost and found, at peace and in chaos.

“S-Stop …” Y/N managed a small stutter as Cregan thought to continue. “Please …” she begged. Cregan did as she asked, leaving one last kiss on the inside of her thigh as he rose. His face was flushed and his eyes as striking grey as a lightning sky. Y/N’s breathing slowly calmed and she opened her eyes, coming down from her high. Cregan was leaning on his elbow beside her, patiently watching her recover. He leaned in carefully and waited for her to tell him to stop but she did not. She responded instead with a kiss, a hungry kiss with which she vowed to repay the pleasure he had made her feel, a pleasure she had not expected.

Cregan pulled her body closer, wrapping Y/N’s thighs around his hips after he pulled off her silken stockings. A quiet gasp escaped her lips as he entered her, his eyes closing in pleasure as his eyebrows furrowed into a heavy frown. He moved slowly at first, evenly. Then his body began moving faster and more desperately. Cregan’s hands roamed Y/N’s body until he had to steady himself against the headboard, feeling himself nearing to his climax. A moan of pleasure caught in Cregan’s throat as he leaned his forehead against Y/N’s, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. Y/N’s hands rested on Cregan’s broad back, his head on her chest. She was breathing heavily as well as two fat tears escaped her eyes. A pool of emotion bubbled inside of her whilst she observed the carved wooden ceiling but not really seeing it, only once again beginning to feel the weight of her life and her duty. She was to make her husband happy. Is he happy, she wondered. Is he pleased? Do I please him?

Another loud bang boomed from the courtyard. Y/N gasped in spite of herself, her body wincing involuntarily. Cregan tensed with her in his arms. He glanced up before he rose once again, leaning against his arms. He looked into Y/N’s eyes but she still could not hold contact for longer than a moment.

“It’s alright,” he spoke once more. “You’re safe, my lady,” said Cregan quietly before pressing a soft kiss on Y/N’s lips, then another on her forehead. Y/N nodded before Cragan leaned on his side and pulled her closer. She rested her head in the nook between her husband’s shoulder and his chest. He pulled one of her legs across his thigh where he rested his hand beneath her hip, drawing soft circles into her skin. In spite of it all, Y/N could not relax. Her body was tense once more, her mind rushing with thoughts of apprehension and self-doubt, even shame. She was a woman wed; it was her duty to give her husband children. What made her feel shame was that she had enjoyed it so.

***

Y/N’s eyes opened when the morning broke, startled by the unknown surroundings. She did not move as she looked around, the memories of last night, only a few hours ago in truth, came back to her. For the hour or two that she managed to close her eyes, Y/N was consumed with a kind of sleep that made one wake up more exhausted than one went to bed. Thoughts and memories of the day past rushed and disfigured in her mind when she slept. Y/N’s chest rose heavily as she looked at Lord Stark lying beside her. He was sleeping on his front, his broad, bare back moving gently with his breathing as he was sound asleep. Y/N was suddenly aware of her nakedness, the recollections of last night made her cheeks flush with shame once more. The wine had made her bolder than she ever would have dared on her own.

Lady Y/N left the bed quietly and slipped on her chemise. Although there was hardly any fire left, only burning embers, the chambers had not grown cold. The walls of Winterfell were built in a way that allowed the hot spring water to rush within them and keep the castle warm.

Y/N glanced over her shoulders, seeing her husband sound asleep. She carefully walked the heavy wooden floors to the dressing area yet none of her things have been brought up yet. There was only a basin and a pitcher. Y/N took one of the soft cloths folded on the washstand and poured some water over the fabric. She washed herself not realizing her thighs were not only painted with her husband’s seed but also her blood. Rosy red stains appeared on the soft white cloth. Y/N could not recall feeling any pain, not any that would disturb her. But there was still blood.

“My lady?” asked Lord Stark. Y/N gasped as she jumped around, clutching the cloth in her hand as the other went over her heart. Cregan’s voice was gentle and quiet but it startled her nevertheless in the hour of the nightingale.

Y/N curtsied instinctively. Her face grew hot at the sight of her husband’s bare chest although he was wearing smallclothes.

“Are you alright?” asked Lord Stark, his eyebrows locked together into a frown.

Lady Y/N nodded. “It’s just … Sleep evades me, my lord,” she spoke, avoiding her husband’s storm grey eyes. Y/N felt exposed in only her chemise although Lord Stark had seen her nakedness and more but hours ago.

“Cregan,” corrected Lord Stark as he took the cloth from her hand. He brushed away a small remain of blood from her calf before standing up. Y/N nodded although she could not make herself say his name out loud. It felt odd to even consider calling the Warden of the North by his first name.

“Are you feeling well?” asked Lord Stark once again, his voice more solemn than before. “Are you … hurt in any way?”

Y/N realized what he was asking. “I’m alright, my—”Lord lingered on Y/N’s tongue as she stopped herself in time. Lord Stark’s stone hard eyes lingered on his wife a moment longer, studying her features. She could not have lied to him even if she wanted to under his formidable gaze.

Cregan nodded to himself and asked her back to bed. It would be hours before anyone other than the smallfolk would consider breaking their fast after the night of festivities. There was no need for the Lord of Winterfell to jump to his duties at the crack of dawn as he normally would, not on this day. Yet it was obvious that neither him nor his wife would find any more sleep that morrow.

It became clear to Y/N that moments of desire and the rest of life were two separate ordeals. One’s courage when powered by lust dwindled in the face of achieving the intimacy of a comfortable silence. Y/N did not know what to say or how to navigate the quietness that settled between herself and her lord husband. She was lying on her side, facing away from him when he spoke.

“Your belongings will be brought up in the morning,” said Lord Stark absent-mindedly. “I was told your new handmaids and ladies-in-waiting were also chosen for you in terms of the seniority of rank …”

Y/N turned on her back, her eyes searching the ceiling. “Alright,” she whispered almost soundlessly. She came to realize once more how drastically her life would change, how it already changed. The people she knew, the persons who had formed part of her every day would suddenly be replaced by strangers she had never met before. Her private rooms were no longer hers but ones she shared with her husband. Y/N shut her eyes tightly and paced her breathing. Tears forced into her eyes but she pushed them away.

“You … You are going hunting today?” asked Y/N to stir her thoughts in another direction. Her lord father boastedabout going on a hunt in the Wolfswood with the Lord of Winterfell in the honour of his daughter’s wedding.

“Am I?” asked Lord Stark. The tone of his voice sounded displeased but Lady Y/N could not be sure. She looked at him.

“I only thought … I heard …” she tried to explain but could not find the words that would not expose her father. The stone in Cregan’s eyes softened some when he saw the fear returning to his wife’s beautiful features although she tried to mask it.

“If Lord Jonos wishes a hunt in the Wolfswood, I will not deny him,” said Cregan absently. He was in no mind to entertain his father-in-law any more than duty commanded of him. The Lord of Winterfell had no taste for arrogance, particularly not one that mingled in one as selfish as he was covetous.

“Ser Duncan Greycliff can take him. He is the master huntsman,” spoke Lord Stark somberly.

“You do not have a taste for hunting?” asked Lady Y/N in an attempt to get to know her husband although she could almost hear him thinking “I do not have a taste for your father.”

“I do,” said Lord Stark instead. “But I prefer swordplay and horse riding.”

“So do I,” said Y/N more to herself than to her husband. “Horse riding, I mean.” She had tried herself at swordplay once as a girl. The sword was hardly a dagger compared to Ice yet it weighed so heavy in her hands that she cut her leg the first swing she took. The blade did not cut through the fabric of her brother’s breeches that she wore but it still parted her flesh on the side of her knee. Her father never learned of it as Y/N’s lady mother made her swear she would not speak of it or else it would not bode well for either of them. The maester bandaged her injured leg and she would never touch a sword again.

“Horse riding then,” decided Lord Stark. He had a scarcity of engagements to attend to that day, still being his wedding day in a way. “We should set off after breaking our fast. The snowing may grow stronger again later in the day. You have a horse with you I take it, my lady?” asked Lord Stark. A true rider never parts from their preferred mount.

“I wanted to bring my mare, Blackspur,” said Y/N as she nodded. “But my father … He said my husband has wealth enough to buy me a horse if I want one,” confessed Y/N. A cluster of anxiety gathered in her throat at the thought of leaving her mare behind. She had her since she was a child. And even if Blackspur had already been past her days as a filly then, she was one of the fastest horses in her father’s stables.

Y/N shook her head and smiled to herself. “Little does he know I asked my cousin to ride her here,” said Y/N, turning her gaze to her husband. “He never even noticed,” her smile grew wider. “So I would only ask for a place in the stables for her.”

Slowly Y/N looked away. Asking anything of her husband, a man she had known for a day, brought her discomfort and shame. She was raised never to ask for anything.

“I will have them build an entire stable for her if that is your wish, my lady,” said Lord Cregan. Y/N could not help but laugh as butterflies awoke in her stomach although there was no doubt in her husband’s voice that he would truly do so. He smiled nevertheless at the sound of her small but bright laughter.

“A stall will do, my lord,” said Y/N as the smile lingered on her lips. Cregan pulled her closer by the waist, Y/N’s back arching against his touch. Their faces were but inches apart as Lord Stark leaned in slowly, his gaze focused on his wife’s soft lips. She was the opposite of everything he had expected from a daughter of a man like Jonos Whytefort.

The heat of Lord Stark's body made Y/N’s arms cover in goose pimples. There was not a hint of Dornish red left in her veins yet Y/N leaned in herself, her hand resting on her husband’s cheek as her lips met his. A soft, almost soundless whimper escaped her mouth as Cregan pulled her closer, his strong grip secured on her body. As his hand reached beneath Y/N’s chemise, there was a knock on the door.

“For Gods’ sake,” growled Cregan, his voice rumbling from his chest. He glared at the door. “Not now!” he called and returned his attention to his wife. The smell of her skin drove him mad with desire, the feel of her soft curves, her gentle touch on his body. He had not imagined it would be so. Cregan Stark was used to perform his duty in all matters and he believed this marriage would be no exception. Little did he expect duty to taste so sweet.

There was another, more persistent knock on the door. “I said NOT NOW!” the Lord of Winterfell rose his voice to a formidable boom. Y/N’s body grew tense in Cregan’s arms, his eyes darting back to her. But before he could speak, another, more familiar voice came from outside his chambers.

“Forgive me, my lord. The matter is of great importance,” sounded Maester Bennard’s voice.

“Gods be damned,” muttered Lord Stark in frustration and fell back into bed. His eyes shut tight for a moment as he gathered his calm. Cregan sat up and pulled on his breeches and tunic in an attempt to conceal the evidence of passion. He opened the door where Maester Bennard awaited. Y/N pulled the linens closer to her body although the bed was hidden from the door’s view. The maester spoke quietly and she could not hear what was said. But there was one word she unmistakably caught – wildlings.

The ladies-in-waiting presented themselves after Lord Stark rushed to Rodrick’s Tower to speak with his lords and advisors. Lady Y/N’s belongings were brought to her chambers along with the wedding gifts of the nobles who attended the marriage celebration. Lady Y/N was helped into a gown of sage green embroidered with string-of-silver. She was asked of her preferences and of her well-being while the servants changed the bed linens and cleared the table with food. One of the ladies-in-waiting, Helaena or Harriett Dustin or Umber, fastened a necklace of white gold and deep green emeralds, which Y/N received from her mother on her sixteenth name day, around her neck. Y/N traced the jewellery with the tips of her fingers, her chest growing tight with pain. She would have to say her fare wells to her mother and to her brother after her lord father returns from the hunt. She will have no one left from her old life, save for her mare Blackspur.

“The breaking of fast will take place in the main hall today, m’lady,” informed one of the servants. She curtsied as best as she could before Y/N’s ladies-in-waiting escorted their Lady of Winterfell to the main hall. The women were kind enough yet unfortunately they were all perfect strangers to Y/N.

The way around the enormous castle that was Winterfell presented itself much clearer in daylight than it did in the hour of the wolf although they remained quite confusing still.

The guests rose as Lady Y/N entered the main hall, her eyes growing wide as she glanced behind her. They rose for her. She was but a young lady of an insignificant house no longer than a day ago. Sometimes people did not even bother to curtsy to Y/N when she was not in the company of her lord father and now an entire hall of noblemen and women stood at her presence.

Y/N sat down at the high table next to a grand, ornate seat reserved for the Lord of Winterfell. Wolves were carved into the handles of the seat, the sigil of House Stark showing off proudly from the top of the back rest. Y/N’s own seat was carved in the same fashion only slightly smaller in size. She sat, allowing for everyone else to do the same. Her cheeks flushed pink as Y/N became acutely aware of everyone staring at her. She knew what they were thinking behind their bawdy grins and hidden whispers, and it cost her her appetite.

One of the serving girls poured her some warm honeyed wine which Y/N gladly accepted. She glanced at the empty seat beside her once again. The seating was different than at the feast. Many of the guests were missing, doubtlessly still asleep. Y/N noticed her lady mother, however, speaking to who seemed to be Lady Hornwood. When Lady Whytefort’s eyes met her daughter’s, she gave a warm, encouraging smile, which reassured Y/N some.

“Is the food not to my lady’s liking?” asked Y/N’s lady-in-waiting, Daela Manderly, the most senior in rank and the one who earned her seat beside the Lady of Winterfell at the high table. She was a girl of seven-and-ten, not much younger than Y/N herself. Lady Daela was tall with long red hair of House Tully after her lady mother.

“I do not have much of an appetite,” confessed Y/N but forced herself to have something at least.

“Are you well, my lady?” asked Lady Daela with great concern. She even went as far as to take Lady Y/N’s hand. Y/N was not accustomed to people touching her, not even Saera who she had practically grown up with. The only person Y/N welcomed touch from was her lady mother. Nevertheless, it was not so much Lady Daela holding her hand that brought Y/N discomfort. Rather, that she was asking on the account of the passing night being Y/N’s wedding night.

“I’m alright,” assured Y/N as she helped herself to a slice of white wheat bread and some butter. She reached for the jar which smelled of sweet blackcurrant and raspberries, spreading some of its contents across her buttered bread.

“Is breakfast usually held elsewhere?” asked Y/N, earning a puzzled look from Lady Daela. “The servant said that we will break fast in the main hall today.”

“Oh,” said Lady Daela. “There is a smaller hall. It is warmer there but Lord Stark often breaks his fast in his solar with Maester Bennard when Winterfell is not host to noble guests. The ladies and myself usually eat in our chambers,” the lady-in-waiting explained.

Suddenly, the people of the main hall rose as did Y/N herself even before she could even see the Lord of Winterfell enter the hall. The last time she saw him that morning he was in his wedding breeches, his white tunic hanging loosely from his shoulders. He had a change of garments since and a clean shave, his long dark hair combed neatly.

Lord Cregan took his seat at the high table, letting the bountiful breakfast to continue.

“Good morrow,” said Y/N gently, unable to explain the reassurance she felt at her husband’s presence. Suddenly, she felt like no one was looking at her at all anymore.

Lord Cregan’s gaze found hers, his stormy eyes raging with thoughts. A dark, solemn expression rested on his already formidable features that Y/N had not noticed when he sat down beside her.

“Good morrow,” spoke Lord Stark nevertheless while he helped himself to eggs, cooked ham as well as bacon and half a dozen slices of rye bread.

Y/N felt as if she somehow misspoke yet she could not have; she only greeted her husband. For a moment, Y/N contemplated it might be Lord Cregan prefers quiet in the mornings since he often eats alone. Yet as Lady Daela claimed he sometimes shared his meal with Maester Bennard so that could not have been the answer. Something must have happened when he was called away that morning.

“Is everything alright, my lord?” asked Y/N carefully as if she were threading on ice. Her voice was soft and discrete as she leaned in ever so slightly. Although they had spent the night together, Y/N did not know Cregan Stark in the least.

Lord Stark stopped his eating, his brows forming into a small frown as he looked at his wife. Y/N thought terribly for a moment, expecting he might throw a plate at her as she had often seen her own father do. Instead, Lord Stark's gaze flickered between Y/N’s big eyes that waited patiently for his reply. She looked away when he did not say anything, focusing on the food in front of her instead before she glanced around the room. Her father would have announced it is none of her business if it had been him she were asking. That or worse.

“Everything is alright, my lady,” said Cregan out of the sudden, interrupting Lady Y/N chain of horrible thoughts. “We will talk of it later,” he added as their eyes met once again to which Y/N could only manage a nod.

After their broke their fast, Y/N changed into her riding gear. She had her father’s castle tailor make her gowns that could be parted and worn with riding breeches underneath and that were able to fit a proper saddle. Y/N picked out a garment of dark blue, brown leather gloves and a fur cloak. The cold winter breeze and the nightly snow made it less than ideal for a nice, long ride yet Y/N could not wait to get out of the castle. She had arrived to the stables before her husband where Blackspur was already waiting for her.

“Hey,” soothed Y/N gently as she glided her gloved palm across the mare’s neck. Her coat was as black as pitch save for the white boots on the three of her four legs. The horse responded to her mistress’ presence, nudging her great big head in her direction.

“Shh …” Y/N leaned her face against Blackspur’s back and caressed her quivering body. For a moment, she could feel the weight of the world storm down on her. For a moment, Y/N’s eyes filled with tears and disappeared in her mare’s coat just as soon as they appeared.

Footsteps approached from the other end of the stall. Y/N wiped away what traces of tears had remained on her face as she patted Blackspur and took a deep breath. The presence that appeared at the stall’s entrance was Lord Stark himself. He did not say anything for a moment. Cregan’s eyes moved across his wife’s attire, never having seen anything like it. Another man appeared behind him, one of the stableboys, offering to saddle Lady Y/N’s horse.

“That’s alright. I will to do it myself,” said Y/N, stroking Blackspur’s neck. The stableboy did not know what to do at such a request from a lady, his small blue eyes flickering between the Lord of Winterfell and his lady wife. Y/N realized they had been staring and she herself froze as her lips parted.

“If I may, my lord,” she spoke much less assuredly, lowering her eyes from her husband and to her beautiful horse whom she caressed still.

“Of course,” said Lord Stark. “Benjin, fetch a saddle for Lady Stark.” Y/N froze at the sound of her new title coming out of her husband’s mouth. She felt like a pretender when she thought it herself. The words coming out of the mouth of the Lord of Winterfell however, carved them into stone.

Lord Stark joined Y/N in the stall, running a hand along Blackspur’s neck himself. The horse shifted at the presence and touch of a stranger.

“Don’t stand too close to her face. She might bite at you,” said Y/N’s arm instinctively stretched past her husband’s body as if to protect him. “She is wary of people she does not know.”

Cregan glanced at his wife’s hand and took it but also stepped back with her as Y/N warned. Her face grew warm when she realized she had tried to ‘protect’ the Lord of Winterfell, who stood even a few inches taller than Blackspur.

“She is a lot like my wife it would seem,” said Lord Stark and closed the space between them. Breath caught in the back of Y/N’s throat as her husband’s lips brushed against hers, seeping into a deep, hungry kiss, when the sound of the stableboy’s returning footsteps filled the silence.

“Gods be damned,” cursed Lord Stark as he pulled away from his wife’s soft lips. Lady Y/N could not help but smile. She took Blackspur from her stall where she could saddle and prepare her for the ride.

Once she was in her saddle, Y/N felt like herself again. The sense of freedom returned to her even if but for a moment. The northern wind swept through her long hair as she gave her restless mare a turn around the courtyard by the Hunter's Gate.

Lord Stark rode a deep brown courser with mane as black as night, hence the name Nightkeeper. The Lord and Lady of Winterfell rode out together, taking no escort as they roamed the snow peppered grounds surrounding the mighty castle. They passed the winter town on their way through the main castle gates. Its houses were mostly empty still but as the winter approached, more and more people would return to stay once again beneath the walls of Winterfell.

The horses picked up their pace when they reached the open fields. Lady Y/N could not hide the smile growing on her lips when fresh air filled her lungs and her breathing became faster.

“Forgive my prying, my lord, but—”

“Cregan,” said Lord Stark. Y/N looked at him. “You need not call me ‘my lord’ when we are alone,” he said once again.

“I fear it may take me some time to get used to that,” confessed Lady Y/N, offering a small smile. The Lord of Winterfell smiled in turn as they steered their mounts up a field path west.

“About this morning,” said Y/N more carefully, “The important matter that needed your attention …”

Lord Stark nodded, his features growing somber. “A growing party of wildlings gathers just north of the Last Hearth,” he explained. “There was a letter in the night from Lord Umber urging we send men north.”

Y/N listened patiently, nodding to herself.

“I will have to ride out soon,” said Lord Stark. “With your father’s host of warriors joining us, we stand a good chance at pushing the wildlings beyond the Wall for good. Or at least for a good many years.”

Y/N’s heart grew heavy. Once her family and her handmaidens leave Winterfell, she will have no one for company but her husband. And Blackspur. Lord Cregan did not count much yet since Y/N was unsure as yet how much she could confide in him as a friend rather than her lord and husband.

“When do you expect to leave?” asked Y/N, even her words growing heavy as she considered being left completely alone at Winterfell.

“In half a moon’s turn,” said Lord Stark gravely. “Sooner if we can gather the men.”

Y/N nodded.

“It will be enough for you to get used to your duties as the Lady of Winterfell. You will rule in my stead when I leave for the north, of course,” said Lord Stark. His voice was laced with thick northern accent.

Y/N’s chest gave a squeeze as she suddenly realized the weight of her responsibilities. Her own lady mother often deputized for Lord Jonos when he was away yet governing over Whytefort could not be compared to ruling Winterfell, much less the North. For the first time since Y/N learned of the marriage alliance between herself and Lord Stark, she could truly feel the weight of duty of her new home rather then her childhood one.

Y/N looked at her husband. He had been the Lord of Winterfell since he came of age at six-and-ten and lost his parents three years prior to succeeding his father’s seat as the Warden of the North. She could not imagine the heavy weight that rested on Lord Cregan’s shoulders nor how he managed to carry it so well; how he made it seem so effortless and natural.

Cregan caught Y/N staring. She looked away quickly and made Blackspur pick up her pace as she gently nudged her belly. Lord Stark did the same and matched her speed, both of the horses shifting from a trot to an easy gallop. Y/N raced her mare up the nearby hill, having Blackspur come to a halt where the view was best. Y/N took in the scenery as she paced her breathing. The fields were neither green nor covered in snow, towered by the mighty grey castle that was Winterfell. From this distance, the castle could fit in the palm of Y/N’s hand. There was forest too as far as the eye could see; dark pines standing strong whilst the summer trees were slowly but surely dropping leaves.

“It is all yours,” said Lord Cregan not without pride when he saw Lady Y/N staring.

Y/N licked her cold-dry lips. I don’t want it, she wished to say. It was too large, too vast, and too many people depended on it; depended on her. Yet for better or for worse she was the Lady of Winterfell. The duty was hers to bear.

“Mayhaps we should go back,” suggested Y/N quietly. “The winds are growing colder.”

“Winter is coming,” agreed Lord Stark as he turned his courser around.

They spent the majority of the ride back in silence yet Y/N could feel her husband’s eyes burn into her for the near entirety of the way. She could not make herself look back at him nor ask about his thoughts. Y/N had spent her entire life as an insignificant lady of an insignificant house leading an insignificant life. She knew her place among the noble lords and ladies – it meant she was to be invisible, quiet, and respectful; never looking them in the eye for too long, never speaking out of turn.

“My lord,” called Maester Bennard as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell returned from their ride. The old maester was waiting for them in the courtyard by the Hunter's Gate, holding a scroll of parchment. “A quick word. Another raven arrived following the one of the morrow.”

Lord Stark dismounted as one of the stablemen took his horse. He stepped away with Maester Bannard whilst Lady Y/N dismounted as well. She had only been able to unsaddle her mare when a party of riders and their dogs entered the courtyard. The lords had gone hunting as per Lord Jonos’ request although the time of day was less than ideal. Nevertheless, Y/N spotted that a wild boar had been the result of their labour in Wolfswood.

“What is that beast doing here?” shouted Lord Jonos when his bright blue eyes saw his daughter’s mare; the one that he had gifted her on her ninth name day. His voice caught the attention of the entire inner courtyard, including Daeron Whytefort, who took part in the hunt. Lady Y/N jumped around, her heart in her throat.

“I told you that nag is to stay at Whytefort!” Lord Jonos slid off his mount and stormed towards his daughter, his whip still in his hand. “You will pay for this trick!”

Lady Y/N’s heart dropped as her eyes grew wide, her back hitting against Blackspur’s side. She held her breath, unable to take her gaze off her lord father, when a man of as stout a figure as any stepped in Lord Jonos’ way. Ser Harwyn, the master-at-arms of Winterfell and a bull of a man, grabbed hold of Lord Whytefort’s whip arm.

“Threatening the Lady of Winterfell is treason and cause for death, my lord. Lord Stark will have your head for that,” warned Ser Harwyn, his grip on Y/N’s father as firm as his words as Lord Jonos tried to set free of the master-at-arms’ hold. Lady Y/N knew Lord Jonos would go for his dagger and he did.

“Don’t!” the Lady of Winterfell cried at her father as her brother could not do anything but watch.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Lord Stark.

“Nothing, my lord,” said Lady Y/N quickly though her voice was weak. The sight of Ice strapped on her lord husband’s back and Ser Harwyn's words made her stomach twist into knots.

Lord Stark turned to his master-at-arms for answers as he saw his wife’s eyes were laced with fright.

“Lord Whytefort threatened Lady Stark. I said it is treason and you will have his head for it, my lord,” Ser Harwyn glared at Lord Jonos. The master-at-arms had trained Lord Cregan at swordplay since the now Lord of Winterfell was in his swaddling clothes. His loyalty to House Stark was unwavering.

“Is this the truth of it?” Lord Stark turned to his lady wife. Y/N’s eyes were big with fear, her lips parted with surprise. She had not thought he would ask her of what had happened. Yet Lord Stark already knew Ser Harwyn’s words had the truth of it. He only wanted to see if his wife would lie to him, even if it was to protect her foolish father. Hot tears welled in Lady Y/N’s eyes.

“It is the truth, my lord,” she spoke quietly as tears stung her cold, wind-lashed cheeks. Cregan’s brows hung in a dark frown, his frame as stoic and formidable as ever. Yet something in the parting of his lips, the colour of his stone grey eyes softened as he studied his lady wife.

“She is my daughter and I forbade it!” Lord Jonos defended his actions. “I forbade that she should bring that beast to this castle,” he insisted.

The Lord of Winterfell turned to him, his cold, hard eyes finding the whip in Lord Jonos’ hand.

“She may have been your daughter yesterday, and you could do with her as you would have seen it fit then, my lord,” spoke Lord Stark, his voice growing darker by the word as he approached Lord Jonos until he towered over him with ease. “But she is my wife now – mine,” Cregan assured to his father-in-law who was as taken aback by his lord’s words as was Lady Y/N.

“I will have you leave the grounds of this castle immediately for I am no longer inclined to extend you the courtesy that no harm shall befall you as my guest,” said Lord Stark with ice in his voice. “But remember that it was you, Lord Whytefort, who forfeited that right as my guest when you threatened my wife, the Lady of Winterfell.”

Lord Stark’s cold gaze rested unblinkingly on Lord Jonos.

“Leave. From this day on you are only welcome at Winterfell at the invitation and pleasure of its lord,” Lord Stark said his final words.

Gentle snowflakes began to fall once again as the Lord of Winterfell showed Lord Jonos his back, commanding his lady wife to follow him inside the castle. Lady Y/N tried desperately for her eyes to meet that of her father but he would not look at her. Lord Jonos yanked his arm free from Ser Harwyn’s hold and spat on the floor before he commanded his men to prepare to leave at once.

Y/N hurried after Lord Stark, hardly matching his pace of long, furious strides. Once in the privacy of their castle walls, of their private chambers, Lord Stark spoke.

“If he so much as speaks another word out of turn, I will have his head,” promised Lord Stark, his voice calm and steady yet ice cold as he faced his wife, the daughter of the most insolent man he had ever had the displeasure to meet. If it had been anyone else, Lord Cregan would have had his head on a spike by then. Or better yet, have him sent to the Wall where he could externalize his impertinent arrogance to winds and snow if they would have him.

“It is my fault, forgive me, my lord,” said Lady Y/N desperately and bowed. “If I had not brought Blackspur with me, this never would have happened.” Y/N shook her head as she looked away when tears welled in her eyes. She could not believe that she had been so foolish. She should have known her father would find out and it would lead to no good.

“I do not say this to blame you, wife,” said Lord Cregan incredulous.

“But I am to blame,” said Lady Y/N. “I should have obeyed his orders.”

“If he had as much as laid a finger on you—” Lord Cregan stopped himself before he could finish his thought. He was holding Y/N by her arms, not ungently, trying to make her understand without him saying anything out loud. Lord Cregan was not a man of words, nor a poet who could sing his lines. The only thing about Lord Stark that sang was his greatsword when he swung it.

Lord Stark let go of her arms, his palms tingling with the warmth of his wife’s body. He gathered his thoughts, pushing his emotions aside.

“I have duties to attend to, my lady,” said Lord Cregan in his usual solemn manner. “And you must needs time to settle in as well. I will see you at nuncheon.”

The Lord of Winterfell left for his solar. Y/N curtsied when Lord Stark was already at the door, his back turned to her.

Y/N sat in one of the chairs by the fire overwhelmed by emotion. She contemplated everything that had happened. Her father announcing the betrothal, the journey, and the wedding ceremony. Last night and this morning, the invigorating ride and the terrible quarrel afterwards. Y/N did not know whether to laugh or cry or to scream. Everything was new and she was so very tired. Not only her mind but her body as she had only a few hours of restless sleep.

There was a knock on the door.

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but your mother, the Lady Whytefort, asks to speak to you,” said a knight of the personal guard of Lord Stark, the one assigned to the new Lady of Winterfell.

“I will see her,” said Lady Y/N almost desperately as she jumped to her feet.

“Very well, my lady,” the knight bowed.

Lady Whytefort was shown into the room, the heavy wooden door closed behind her. She wore skirts of umber red with golden-silver embroidery on the bodice. A necklace of pearls and matching earrings decorated her pale skin.

“Mama,” cried Y/N as she wrapped her arms tightly around her mother’s body. The thought of her leaving made Y/N’s heart part with white-hot pain. As a child, Y/N and Lady Whytefort were not particularly close. Yet as Y/N grew older so did her mother and their relationship not only mended but flourished. They were each other’s best friend, protector, and confidant.

“Oh, sweetling, it’s alright,” spoke Lady Whytefort but neither she could disguise the cracks in her voice. Her cheeks were wet with tears with her daughter’s arms locked around her body so tightly. Lady Whytefort caressed Y/N’s hair, unsure whether it was to comfort her or herself.

“I do not wish for your to leave,” whispered Lady Y/N for if she attempted to speak with her voice, it would surely break.

“Oh, I do not want to leave either, my sweet,” said Lady Whytefort as she pulled away, wiping the tears from her daughter’s cheeks. “But I have to. This is your home now and I have to return to mine.”

Y/N nodded in understanding although more hot tears streamed down her face.

“I will visit as soon as I can, I give you my word,” vowed Lady Whytefort.

Y/N’s chest broke with a painful sob. She began shaking her head, “Y-You cannot.” Her crying grew heavier.

“Why not, my sweet?” asked Lady Whytefort as she wiped away the tears off Y/N’s face. “You mean the quarrel between your father and Lord Stark?”

Y/N’s sobs quietened as her gaze rested on her mother’s. “W-When did … How ... How did y-you know?”

“Your brother told me when I came down to meet him after he and your father returned from their hunt,” explained Lady Whytefort unconcernedly. “Besides, I fear half the castle is talking about it,” she said, less pleased that there would be gossip in such a noble castle.

“I don’t understand,” Y/N shook her head. “How can you speak so lightly?” Her cheeks grew wet with tears once more. She shook her head, “I … I don’t know what to do.”

“You do not have to do anything, my sweet,” comforted Lady Whytefort. “I already spoke to Lord Stark—”

“What?” blurted Lady Y/N. “When?”

“Just now,” said Lady Whytefort. “I went to ask for pardon on the behest of your father but Lord Stark would not hear of it. Mayhaps if Jonos came to him himself and swallowed that foolish pride of his …” said Lady Whytefort tiredly. She had been mending her husband’s messes for years, decades even ever since they were wed.

“What am I supposed to do? And it is my fault—” cried Lady Y/N in desperation but her mother cut her off.

“Whilst the Lord of Whytefort is not welcome at Winterfell unless upon the invitation and pleasure of its lord, the same does not extend to the Lady of Whytefort,” said Lady Whytefort with a small, growing smile. “She is welcome to the hospitality of Winterfell at the Lady Stark’s wish.”

“W-What?” breathed Lady Y/N. Her heart was beating hard enough to escape her chest. “Lord Stark … Lord Stark said that to you, mother?”

“He did,” promised Lady Whytefort. “You will beg me to leave for I will be here so often.”

Y/N could not help but laugh through her tears that her mother brushed away for one last time.

"And the quarrel was never your fault, my sweet," swore Lady Whytefort. "It gladens me that you have Blackspur here with you. At least you will have something of your own ..."

“I will be leaving with your father, however,” explained Lady Whytefort. “So we best say our goodbyes now.” Y/N nodded as she locked her mother into a tight embrace. She would miss the smell of her perfume, the touch of her hands. But mostly, she will miss her voice and her company.

Y/N said her final goodbyes to her family after nuncheon, her beloved lady mother and her brother. Lord Jonos would not look at his daughter, waiting impatiently on his milk-white palfrey. As her family and the host of guests disappeared behind the castle walls, Y/N felt alone in the world. A darkness settled in her body, a sadness for Whytefort, her private chambers, the people she knew, the halls she had walked thousands of times before, a sadness for her home. Yet Winterfell was her home now.

Y/N spend the rest of the day with her ladies-in-waiting, slowly but surely remembering all of their names. Daela Manderly, Ellyn Mormont, Jocelyn Karstark, and Harryett Dustin. Y/N found Lady Ellyn the most agreeable of the lot. She was a few years Lady Stark’s senior with long hair neither brown not gold and eyes the colour of rain.

The ladies showed her the castle from the Great Hall to Benjen's Hall where the meals were usually held, the broken tower and the ladies’ quarters where they spend some time at small talk and a warm cup of mulled wine. Lady Daela was a woman of petite stature who could not handle more than a cup or two before the grape had stuck to her blood. She told a rumour about one of the ladies of the court but Y/N had no taste for it. She neither knew who the lady was nor did she have the energy to keep up with the conversation.

“If my ladies will excuse me,” said Lady Y/N and got up. The women mirrored. “I will retire to my chambers for it has been a long day,” she apologized. “Lady Mormont, if you would be as kind as to escort me.”

“Of course, my lady,” said Lady Ellyn as they left the ladies at their wine. Lady Daela seemed conflicted between her wish to be called upon the new Lady of Winterfell to accompany her to her chambers and between her thirst for more honeyed wine and leisurely whispers.

As they climbed the staircase of Rodrick’s Tower, Y/N’s thoughts drifted off to her husband. They had not spoken at all at nuncheon other than the courtesies demanded of them. Yet come supper, they will be alone and after her lord father’s outburst that morning, Lady Y/N was unsure of how she felt – of how her husband felt. Lord Stark had allowed Lady Whytefort to visit any time she wishes, yet what if he resented that she would come and ask for her husband’s forgiveness; that she would want to change his mind and question his orders. His silence to Y/N weighed terribly on her mind.

Y/N sighed heavily as they reached her private chambers.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” asked Lady Mormont.

“I hope so,” said Lady Y/N more to herself than to her lady-in-waiting. She was yet unsure how much she could trust Lady Mormont. In reality, Y/N was less than hopeful. Her mother was right when she said she had been cleaning Lord Jonos’ messes since they were wed. His difficult character and more oft than not unjustified pridefulness made life difficult not only for him but the rest of the Whyteforts.

“May I suggest a bath, my lady?” offered Lady Ellyn, waking Y/N from her thoughts. “It might help relax you.” Y/N had not even thought about it, yet the idea of it seemed sweeter than heaven in that moment.

“That would be more than welcome, thank you,” she agreed.

“I will have the servants ready it for you, my lady,” Lady Ellyn smiled before she disappeared down the narrow corridor.

Lady Y/N entered her private chambers, making it straight to the bed. She laid down on the comfortable feathered mattress, her fingers running through the soft furs. Despite a headache forming, Y/N wondered if tonight would be the same as last night. The memories of it made her skin tingle with warmth as she battled against the feelings of guilt and shame.

The servants prepared a bath for Lady Stark to which she added some peppermint oil to help relieve her headache and relax her muscles. After the servant girls helped her strip to her undergarments, Lady Y/N asked them to leave. Although many ladies enjoyed having others wash them, Y/N cherished the silence and the solitude whilst soaking in warm water.

Y/N stripped and stepped into the bath. The water was unusually hot as it often already grew cold whilst the servants brought it up to the rooms. Y/N sunk into the fragranced water, allowing for the heat to embrace her. She had had a bath on the day of her wedding, yesterday, yet it seemed to her as if she had not had one in months. If the prospects of supper had not loomed over her, Y/N would be sure to fall asleep that very moment.

As the water grew cold, Lady Y/N washed with soap of orange and had a change of dress. She wanted to look her best. In her own way, it was a way of apologizing for starting the quarrel with her father, which lead to a falling out between the Lord of Winterfell and Lord Jonos. Lady Y/N chose a dress of dark carmine red with golden embroidery on the sleeves. She paired it with a delicate belt made of mountain blossoms of matching gold. Although the gown had long bell sleeves, it exposed the shoulders and had the bosom in the shape of a heart. It was one of Y/N’s best and favourite gowns. She wore pearl earrings in the shape of tears but allowed her hair to fall naturally.

The skirts of Lady Y/N’s gown rustled as she walked down the main staircase of Winterfell. She had her ladies-in-waiting accompanying her, all four of them walking closely behind her. When Y/N reached the bottom of the staircase, she came face to face with her husband. He must have been outside for there were snowflakes slowly melting away in his hair and his coat. Lady Y/N curtsied.

“Husband,” she spoke in a way of greeting. Her voice was stronger than she had expected although on the inside she was trembling.

Lord Stark’s mouth parted ever so slightly as he took in his lady wife’s attire. The scent of peppermint and orange blossom on her skin made his arms prickle with goose bumps.

Y/N had almost accepted that Lord Stark would not wish to speak to her when he finally uttered a curtsy.

“My lady,” said Lord Stark. He paused as if there were something on his mind yet he did not say anything.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell sat down at their high table at Benjen’s Hall where wild salmon was being served in a crust of herbs. There was warm, fresh bread, wine and ale. Yet although Lady Y/N’s plate was full, she could not find a proper appetite, not with her thoughts raging as wild as they had.

“What is it, my lady?” asked Lord Stark, not unkindly. His face, however, held a grim frown that Y/N could not quite read. He seemed tired but not angry. “You have barely touched your food.”

“Nothing,” said Lady Y/N, wondering whether to even raise the subject at all. “I only … I only wished to thank you,” Lady Y/N managed at last. “I was able to speak with my mother, the Lady Whytefort, after she had spoken to you.”

“There is nothing to thank,” said Lord Stark, his frown softening some. “Lady Whytefort had given me no offence, neither you as far as I am aware. She is welcome at Winterfell if you wish her company.”

“I do,” said Y/N earnestly. “And I thank you for it,” she added quickly, her hand instinctively wrapping around Lord Stark’s forearm to profess how grateful she was. She soon realized what she had done and in front of other people of the court that shared their meal although no one remotely noticed in the midst of the music and the laughter.

“Forgive me,” said Lady Y/N quickly as she took back her hand. Little did she know that the Lord of Winterfell wanted nothing more but the small feast with the final guests who had yet not left to finish so that he may be alone with his wife. His mind had been drifting off to her all day. Even as Maester Bennard read him letters of more complains of the wildlings, of disputes over petty lands and water rights, Lord Cregan struggled to keep his thoughts on the matters at hand. His mind kept returning to Lady Y/N and her soft hair, the smell of her skin, the touch of her body in his arms. He remembered her smile when they went riding, the flush in her cheeks. Cregan never minded his duties as the Lord of Winterfell, he even enjoyed them sometimes. Yet that day every one of his lordly duties that impeded him from returning to his private chambers proved more tedious then ever and seemed to last an eternity.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” said Lord Stark whose forearm tingled with warmth. He focused on his meal to keep himself from throwing Lady Y/N over his shoulder and taking her to their private chambers. For a moment Lord Stark considered his wife had chosen the red gown to torture him for the falling out with Lord Jonos. Yet after Lady Y/N thanked him for giving her lady mother the hospitality of Winterfell, the Lord of Winterfell considered the gown either a way of thanking him or a plain but no less torturous coincidence. Carmine was indeed one of the colours of House Whytefort yet even so the red gown hugging Lady Y/N’s curves made Lord Stark’s body prickle with heat.

Lady Y/N returned to her meal, finally being able to think clearly. She could still notice her husband’s gaze on her yet he looked even more grim and formidable than ever.

Lady Y/N was already done eating when Lord Stark finished his meal. He washed it down with a cup of ale before he got up, done with displaying courtesy to his guests. Lady Y/N rose as well as did her ladies-in-waiting and the rest of the court. Before they could even do so properly, Lord Stark had already taken Y/N’s hand, nearly dragging her from Benjen’s Hall.

The moment the doors to their private chambers closed behind them, Cregan’s lips found Y/N’s. Y/N gasped but responded immediately. Her husband’s touch made all of her thoughts quieten down, all but one. Cregan’s fingers caught in Y/N’s hair as he guided her lips against his. His kisses were deep and hungry for more. Y/N could feel his hardness against her body, wishing desperately for him to take off his garments.

“S-Stop,” Y/N managed to say in between kisses. Lord Stark would not hear her at first. Yet once he realized what she had said and felt the push of her delicate arms against his chest, an alarm sounded in his head.

“If you are hurt …” breathed Lord Stark, the only reason that would have him control his desire.

“I am not,” whispered Y/N quickly, finding the clasps of her husband’s jerkin as she undid them. Then she pulled apart the strings of his tunic which Cregan gladly removed, encouraged by his wife’s boldness. He near tore off her exquisite red gown, unable to find the time or the patience to deal with the intricate lacing. Y/N turned around for him to undo the corset supporting her figure. A moan escaped her lips as Cregan’s hands found her breasts. He stood behind her and kissed her neck as his arms held her close. His hips moved as if there were no garments separating their bodies when a deep, raspy moan broke from his chest as Cregan found the release he had been chasing since that morning.

Y/N’s hands were locked around her husband’s strong forearms as he still held her tightly. She, like Cregan, breathed heavily still, yet a part of her wished it had not been over so quickly.

Y/N thought to take off her corset properly and get ready for bed but as she tried to unbind herself of Cregan’s embrace, he would not move.

“I am not finished yet,” Lord Stark whispered against her ear before leaving her neck bruised with ravenous kisses. He spun her around, his lips finding hers once again when his arms went beneath her bum. Y/N yelped quietly as Cregan picked her up and carried her to their bed. Her back hit the soft, warm furs as Y/N pulled him closer, eager to feel the weight of his strong body on top of hers. Cregan pulled of his stained breeches, a groan of pleasure escaping his chest as he entered his wife. Y/N gasped. She was still sore from last night although it did not cause her pain, rather pleasure. Her silken white chemise with the hem of Myrish lace left little to the imagination. The delicate fabric was rolled up to her waist and although it still covered her chest, the shape of her breasts and the colour of her nipples remained seen. Cregan’s lips went to them as his hands wrapped around her wrists. He had pulled out, leaving his wife for more. He took off her chemise, her body all to himself. He could not even imagine sharing the sight of her nakedness with anyone else should the bedding ceremony have taken place.

Moans lingered on Y/N’s mouth when Cregan left sloppy kisses down her stomach, teasing her until he found what they had both been yearning for. His arms locked around her soft thighs as he pulled her closer with ease. Y/N’s legs quivered with pleasure at the skill of Cregan’s mouth. She could no longer contain any of her cries and moans of wishing and wanting for more.

“Gods,” whimpered Y/N, raising ever so slightly before her head hit the pillows and her eyes shut in divine pleasure. Shivers ran through her entire body, her thighs shuddering. Y/N’s breathing began to slow down when she opened her sleepy eyes. Cregan kissed her softly, the taste of her lingering on his lips but she did not mind at all.

“I will be quick, I promise,” said the Lord of Winterfell, his voice low and as warm as crackling embers. Y/N did not think to reply, only allowed herself to be taken further away.

Cregan had her sit on his lap, his arms wrapped around her small back as he held her close. She hardly needed to do anything as he moved his hips eagerly, this time much more slowly. Although drowsy from her own pleasure, Y/N’s fingers tangled in Cregan’s hair, her arms secured around her husband’s shoulders. She kissed him deeply, trying to convey her gratitude for the way he made her feel. She moved against his hips, responding to his body. Cregan’s moans became more and more frequent, his eyebrows furrowing into a heavy frown as he neared his pleasure. He held Y/N's body greedily when he groaned against the delicate skin of her neck as he reached his climax.

Cregan lied down with Y/N still tightly secured in his embrace. Their synchronised breathing slowly calmed down in the gentle silence that their private chambers provided. Fire burned in the hearth whilst it snowed outside the castle windows and Y/N scooted even closer to the warmth of her husband’s body. Her fingertips brushed against an unusual shape in Lord Cregan’s side.

Y/N opened her eyes despite herself and her dying need for sleep. She rose her head slightly. She had not noticed last night, but her husband’s torso was peppered with scars that could only be caused by swordplay or sometimes an arrow.

“You have a lot of scars,” whispered Y/N as she unintentionally voiced her thoughts. Lord Stark’s grey eyes opened slowly. He glanced down at himself.

“Just so,” he spoke easily although his voice was even deeper than normally. Cregan ran his long fingers through Y/N’s beautiful hair.

“Do they … Do any of them still hurt?” asked Y/N carefully.

“I sometimes have an ache in my shoulder," said Lord Stark absently whilst Y/N's entire focus shifted to her husband's arrow scar right beneath his collarbone.

"A wildling arrow," he explained as he saw the question forming in his wife's eyes. She nodded and looked away when his gaze found hers.

“I wish you could feel more at ease in my presence,” said Lord Stark earnestly. “There is apprehension and uncertainty in your every move when I am near. Why is it so different when we are alone?” asked Lord Stark, his eyebrows forming a frown as he stared intently at his lady wife. But Y/N did not have an answer.

“I wish I knew, my lord,” she whispered, her fingers drawing shapes in his side. "Cregan," Lady Y/N corrected herself. She looked up into her lord husband's eyes and held her gaze longer than she would. Her eyes lowered to his lips. Y/N's fingers grazed over Lord Stark's lips as she leaned in. Cregan took her hand and kissed her fingertips before their lips met for a kiss.

***

The days and weeks went by like a breeze. Every day Lady Stark would discover a new corner of the castle grounds and every day she would assist her husband in his duties, learning how to rule Winterfell. The maester instructed her in the affairs between the noble houses sworn to House Stark, yet more importantly, he told her of the ways of the lords who attended Lord Stark's councils. Y/N spoke to her husband on Maester Bennard's thoughts and found they most often concur on the characters and motives of House Stark's bannermen.

Nevertheless, the affairs of the council and the ruling were not the only things Y/N had learned in the days before the Lord of Winterfell would have to march north. Y/N learned of her husband's character. She knew that he was sometimes quick to anger but mostly a very patient man. She discovered that he was nothing like her father, who was arrogant and greedy and more oft than not an unkind man. When he trained with his men in the courtyard, Lord Stark was a strict but patient man, whose faith in his men was unrelenting. Y/N learned the little things too. She learned that he disliked lamb and parsley but would not ask the cooks to prepare something else if it was served before him. She learned that he preferred ale over wine and snow over heavy sunshine. And when they slept, Cregan would always have a part of their bodies touch - be it the hold of a hand, their legs entwined or their bodies embracing fully.

Lady Stark watched the Lord of Winterfell and his master-at-arms train the young boys in swordplay. They would not be leaving for the north with the grown men on the morrow but they are to stay and protect their families.

Y/N's chest was heavy with worry as she watched her lord husband evade one of the boys' training sword with ease. It was already growing dark outside and this would be their last night together after he would leave for what could be months. Lord Jonos' host of warriors would meet them west of the King's Road at the foot of White Knife, the lake where sprang the river of the same name.

There was a large feast for the warriors, the lords, and the commanders of tomorrow's host against the wildlings. But neither the Lord or the Lady of Winterfell stayed long. As they lied in their bed exhausted and their arms wrapped around each other, a horrible silence threatened to settle itself between them.

Cregan caressed Y/N's cheek, brushing away the hair sticking to her face. "Will you take a cup of wine?" he asked her. She shook her head against the pillow.

The bed shifted as Lord Stark got up and poured himself a cup of wine. His back was to Y/N and only then did she feel strong enough to tell him what had been burning inside of her for days.

“Cregan,” spoke Y/N. “You … You will return safely, will you not?” she spoke quietly. Lord Stark froze before he slowly set his cup on the table. He turned around and climbed back into bed, trapping Y/N beneath him as he leaned his arms on each side of her.

"Of course," Cregan assured whispering before he kissed Y/N on the lips. "It might be some time but I will return."

"You might be great with child by then," thought Cregan, a small grin hiding in the corner of his lips.

"Mayhaps," whispered Y/N. She had not thought she would ever wish for children, not truly. But it was different with Cregan. Something changed inside of her with him. The thought of bearing him a child, of having a child with his grey eyes and dark hair filled her heart with unexpected warmth.

Cregan kissed Y/N's forehead and pulled her closer, his strong arms wrapping around her gentle frame as they lied down to sleep. Y/N’s hands found their way to her husband’s back and rested there as she nestled against his bare chest. She let out a long-held breath, savouring the last night with her husband by her side in what could be months.

***

Despite the feast lasting late into the night, the host was ready in the hour of the nightingale. The pale yellow dawn broke the darkness as the Lady of Winterfell watched her husband mount his courser. Her heart was in her throat as she neared him, saying her last goodbyes.

"I will pray that you come back safely, husband," said Lady Y/N. As much as she tried to control her emotions, Y/N's eyes welled with tears. Should something happen to him in battle, this was the last time they would see each other.

Y/N handed Cregan a silken handkerchief with an eight-pointed mountain blossom embroidered in one of the corners. Cregan's brows frowned on his storm grey eyes. His heart had never been felt this heavy leaving Winterfell. He was always battle-hungry and unremitting in defending the name of his house on the battlefield.

The Lord of Winterfell looked around at his men who were already riding out. He cursed them all as he leaned down in his saddle and took his wife's chin in his hand. He kissed her ardently and spoke the words 'I love you' before she watched him ride out into the northern winds.

PART 2

#house of the dragon #cregan stark #house stark #hotd cregan #cregan x reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #the wolf of the north #house of the dragon fanfic #winterfell #game of thrones #got #hotd

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rosesareredrosa · 2 months

Text

Too Hot to Cuddle

Theo Nott x fem reader

Summary: Theo just wants to cuddle but its just too hot to cuddle isn't it? based on this ask by anon thank you <333

Authors note: I made smth up with the enchanted ice water bottle

Word count: around 930 words

Hogwarts in the summer was a different kind of magical. The castle grounds buzzed with the sounds of nature, and the sun cast a golden hue over everything it touched. But inside the castle walls, the stone corridors retained the heat, making it almost unbearable. For Theodore Nott and Y/N, it was too hot to cuddle.

Theo and Y/N had been best friends since their first year, and as they grew older, their friendship had blossomed into something deeper. Summer had a way of intensifying feelings, and for Theo, the heat only seemed to make him clingier.

One particularly scorching afternoon, Theo found Y/N sprawled on a blanket under the shade of a large oak tree by the Black Lake. She was fanning herself with an old Herbology textbook, her face flushed and damp. Theo approached, carrying a basket of cold pumpkin juice and a couple of enchanted ice-cold water bottles.

“Hey, bella,” he greeted with a warm smile. “Thought you might need something to cool down.”

Y/N looked up, gratefully accepting a bottle of water. “You’re a lifesaver, Theo. It’s unbearably hot today.”

Theo sat down beside her, his body already seeking closeness. He draped his arm over her shoulders and leaned in, trying to snuggle closer. “You know, amore, it would be perfect if we cuddled right now.”

Y/N laughed softly, but she couldn’t hide the slight discomfort. “Theo, as much as I love you, it’s too hot for cuddling. I’m practically melting.”

Theo’s eyes widened in mock sadness. “But we’re like the perfect pair, bella. Just imagine how amazing it would be if we were cuddling right now.”

Y/N shifted, trying to avoid his warm embrace. “I don’t know, Theo. I’m already so hot—I don’t think I could handle it.”

Theo gave her a pleading look, his bottom lip jutting out in a way that made it hard for Y/N to resist. “Just a little cuddle, please? I promise I won’t complain if you get too hot. I’ll even fan you with this book.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to hold back a smile. “You’re relentless. I’m serious, it’s too warm.”

Theo sighed dramatically, nuzzling his face into her neck. “But you’re so irresistible, dolcezza. I can’t help it. I just want to hold you close.”

Y/N tried to ignore the pleasant shivers running down her spine from his touch. “Theo, I really can’t handle the heat.”

Theo’s face lit up with a sudden idea. “How about this? If you let me cuddle with you, I’ll share my enchanted ice-cold water bottle. It’ll keep us cool, I swear.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. “You really think that will make a difference?”

Theo nodded eagerly, his arms tightening around her in a playful, affectionate squeeze. “Absolutely. And if you get too warm, I’ll cool you down with my magic ice-cold touch. Deal?”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “You’re incorrigible, Theo.”

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with hope.

Y/N sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, alright. Just for a bit. But if I start to overheat, you’re on your own.”

Theo’s face lit up with triumph as he pulled her into a snug embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close while she settled against him. He conjured a few fluffy pillows and arranged them around them, making their makeshift nest as cozy as possible.

“There,” Theo said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. “Now we’re both cool and comfortable.”

Y/N snuggled into him, feeling the coolness of the enchanted water bottle against her back. The combination of Theo’s warmth and the cool air created a perfect balance. She sighed contentedly, feeling a sense of peace.

“This actually isn’t so bad,” Y/N admitted, resting her head against Theo’s chest.

Theo’s heart soared at her admission. “I told you, amore mio. Sometimes, the best moments come when you least expect them.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with affection. “You’re pretty amazing, Theo.”

“And you’re my everything,” he replied softly. He gently brushed a stray hair from her face, his touch tender.

They spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, their laughter mingling with the soft rustling of the leaves outside. The room they had found was a sanctuary from the heat, but it was Theo’s persistent love and warmth that truly made it special.

As the night drew on, Theo held Y/N close, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her forehead and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Despite the heat outside, inside their little haven, they were perfectly content.

In that cozy embrace, surrounded by magic and love, Y/N realized that even on the hottest days, Theo’s affection made everything feel just right.

#theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott #slytherin x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #reader insert #fluff #oneshot #drabble

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worldlxvlys · 7 months

Note

Can we get a Matt using a vibrator on the reader infront of his brothers and he edges her but she finishes so he takes her homes and punishes her fic plsss.

vibe

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttttt, use of vibrator in public, edging, orgasm denial, p in v, creampie, overstimulation, fingering, spanking, choking, degradation

a/n: hope u like <33

i looked at myself in the mirror, smoothing out the end of my dress.

i tilted my head to the side as matt wrapped his hands around my waist, burying his nose into my neck.

“you look so good, baby” he mumbled into my skin.

“you think so?” i asked, my eyes fluttering closed as he left kisses against my skin.

“matt, we’re gonna be late to dinner” i breathed out, but tilted my head farther to give him more access.

he chuckled at this, “seeing as how i’m everyone’s ride, they can wait” he spoke as his hands crept under my dress.

he moved my underwear to the side and inserted a finger into my entrance without warning.

“fuck, matt” i moaned out.

he used his free hand to cover my mouth while his other inserted another finger into me.

“stay quiet, baby” he whispered as he continued to fuck his fingers into me.

suddenly, his fingers were removed from me just as quickly as they had been inserted.

i whined into his hand as he reached into his pocket for something.

“just needed to stretch you out, my love” he said as his fingers were replaced with a cold object.

“oh my god” i moaned as my tight hole was stretched out.

“matt what- FUCK!” i cut myself off with a moan of suprise when i felt a strong vibration in my core.

i gripped his arm as matt brought his phone into view.

“ i have full control baby” he said.

it’s a vibrator that he can control on his phone.

fuck.

suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door, followed by nick’s voice.

“can you guys hurry up? we’re hungry!”

deciding to tease me, matt suddenly switched the vibrator to the highest setting possible.

my body lurched forward as i brought my hand to my mouth, biting it.

i tried my hardest to suppress my moans as my entire body shook.

this shit is powerful.

“sorry, what was that nick?” matt yelled back, purposely stalling so nick would stay by the door longer.

matt smirked at me, watching me struggle to contain myself.

“just give us a few” i screamed out, willing nick to walk away.

“ok, chop chop!” he yelled back, before his footsteps retreated.

“well this is gonna be fun” matt spoke smugly, before turning the vibrator off.

“hurry up, baby. we’ve made them wait long enough” he raised his eyebrows tauntingly.

this sick fuck.

i just narrowed my eyes at him as i attempted to collect myself.

we were now sat at a booth in a local restaurant, matt and i seated next to each other and across from nick and chris.

matt hadn’t touched the controller for the vibrator since we left his room, and i honestly had forgotten about it completely.

we all looked over our menus, deciding what we wanted before the waitress came over.

as soon as it was my turn to order, i felt the low vibration inside of me.

i shakily inhaled, attempting to keep it together.

as soon as i opened my mouth to speak, however, the vibration intensified.

“can i” i cleared my throat, “ i-i have an iced tea?”

the waitress looked at me oddly, but nodded, nonetheless.

after i struggled through the rest of my order, the waitress collected the menus and walked away.

chris immediately spoke up, “you ok? you seem…off”

“yeah!” i blurted out, rather loudly.

his eyes widened at my sudden outburst, but he decided not to question it, “…ok” he replied.

i swallowed harshly as matt placed his hand on my thigh, making my dress ride up slightly.

i glared up at him as he looked at me with an evil glint in his eye.

he leaned closer to my ear and whispered, “ i promise if you cum, you’ll regret it. be a good girl and hold it. nod if you understand.”

i nodded lightly, and he immediately turned it up to full power.

i immediately gripped onto the edge of the table as my hips jerked forward under the table.

thankfully, chris and nick were too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice my reaction.

my underwear was drenched in my arousal and i bit my lip to stop myself from screaming out.

waves of pleasure shot throughout my entire body and i closed my eyes to hide the fact that they were rolling into the back of my head.

matt’s hand found its way under my dress and his fingers rubbed my clit through my panties.

“seems like you’re close, ma. you better not cum” he whispered as my body began to shake.

i quickly tapped my leg against the ground, making it look like i was shaking due to my leg bouncing up and down, rather than my boyfriend fucking me with a vibrator under the table.

“matt” i moaned under my breath, only loud enough for him to hear.

i was on the brink of an orgasm, when matt turned the vibrator off.

“fuck” i shakily sighed out.

“you ok?” nick asked, catching my sigh of disappointment.

“yeah, my head is just killing me” i answered, before turning to matt.

he looked at me innocently, as though he hadn’t just ruined my orgasm.

“you probably just need some food is all” he smiled before leaving a kiss to my forehead.

the majority of the dinner went like this, up until the food arrived.

matt teased me relentlessly, building up my pleasure and taking it away just before i got the chance to release.

each time, he waited longer and longer to halt the vibrations, trying to see how long i could hold out before breaking.

by this point, i didn’t care about anything other than finishing, i had completely lost my appetite for food. i was hungry for something else entirely.

once our food was placed in front of us, matt turned the vibrator onto the highest setting.

i placed my hand on his thigh, squeezing with all of my might.

tears pricked at the corner of my eyes as the toy pulsated against my sensitive walls, but i quickly blinked them away as i reached for my fork.

what i failed to realize, however, was that i wouldn’t be able to keep my fork steady due to the amount of shaking i was doing.

this caught the attention of both nick and chris.

“hey, are you sure you’re ok? you’re literally shaking” nick spoke up.

“o-oh, yeah. i think i’m just kinda anxious y-you know? lots of people in here” i spoke as a shiver ran down my spine at the intense amount of pleasure i was receiving, “plus, i’m just really hungry” i finished as i shoveled food into my mouth.

matt quickly threw his arm around me, rubbing my arm gently, “hey, it’s ok baby. i’m right here” he pretended to coax me, knowing damn well what the real problem was.

his hand moved to my back, before creeping its way down to my ass.

he gave it a squeeze, and i hid my face into his neck.

“don’t fucking do it” he whispered, knowing i was close.

“matt, i c-can’t hold it” i whispered into his ear.

“you can and you will” he whispered back.

my mouth hung open and my eyes rolled back as i dug my nails into his arm.

i tried not to give any indications of my incoming orgasm, but he knew my body too well to be fooled.

i gently bit the skin of his neck as i felt my juices leak out of me and into my panties.

my body continued to shake lightly against him as the powerful vibrations shot through my oversensitive pussy.

“did you just cum?” he asked in a chillingly low voice.

i lowly whimpered against his neck, not being able to form words as the effects of my orgasm still took over my body.

he gently pulled away from me and turned the vibrator off, and went back to eating his food.

for the rest of the dinner, he didn’t say a word to me, unless it had something to do with the conversation he held with his brothers.

when we got back home, we bid his brothers good night and he took me to his room without a single word.

once we got to his room, he closed and locked the door behind us.

“matt?” i asked as he pulled his shirt off.

“take off your clothes, right now” he spoke firmly, as he did the same to himself.

i quickly followed suit, until i was bare in front of him.

“what the fuck did i tell you in that restaurant?” he spoke as he turned me around, making me face away from him.

he ran his hand along my ass before giving it a firm slap.

i moaned out in surprise, “not to cum!” i spoke in response.

“oh, so you did hear me? you just didn’t feel like listening, huh?”

another slap.

“answer me.” he spoke before slapping me again.

“i’m sorry, i just couldn’t hold it” i whispered out.

he smacked my ass again, “speak up”

“i couldn’t hold it! i’m sorry, matt!” i yelled. at this point, i didn’t really care if his brothers heard me.

“hmm, you just wanna cum so badly, huh? ok. you wanna act like a cumslut? i’ll make you one”

i moaned at the thought of that.

“yeah? you like that? of course you do. my dirty girl” he pushed me onto the bed, making me land on my stomach.

“you gonna make me cum yourself or did you need the vibrator again?” i asked, testing his limits.

i shouldn’t have done that.

—

bang, bang, bang.

his headboard repeatedly slammed against his wall, his thrusts were sharp and hard.

my mouth hung open, spit dribbling out as he pounded into me from behind.

i lost count of the amount of times he had made me cum on his dick.

“you’re awfully quiet, ma. what’s wrong? did i fuck you speechless?” he asked as he slapped my ass.

he pulled out for a second, before turning me onto my back.

without missing a beat, he entered me again, making my back arch off of the bed.

“wanna see the face you make when i fuck every thought out of your brain”

my eyes were crossed at this point, makeup smudged, and my mouth stuck in an o-shape.

“look at you, you’re fucking ruined”

he slapped my tits, making my face scrunch up in pleasure.

his tatted arm reached up, and his hand wrapped around my throat.

“can a vibrator make you feel like this?” he growled out.

“no! no, only you matt!”

“you sure? cause if you want, i can stop. we’ll let your vibrator finish the job” he taunted.

“mmmmmm, no! i mean yes, i’m sure! i’m sure matt, oh my god” i babbled, as i dug my nails into his back.

“matt, i’m so close”

“yeah? me too, baby. c’mon, want you to cream all over my cock” he groaned.

i looked between us where our bodies met, the sight of his pleasure from the previous rounds being pushed into me sending me over the edge.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” i screamed at the top of my lungs as i released on his dick, matt following right behind me.

he rode out our highs for a few seconds longer and pulled out of me.

my body laid limp as i attempted to regain my breathing.

“you ok?” matt asked me, placing a kiss on my forehead.

“fuck yes. are you ?” i asked in response.

“yeah” he breathed out with a smile on his face.

“let’s get you cleaned up” he said as he grabbed a clean washcloth from his bathroom.

while he cleaned us up, he whispered soft praises into my ear, reassuring me how good i was for him.

when he finished, he threw the dirty cloth into his hamper.

he gave me a shirt to wear and pulled on his boxers and a pair of sweats.

“i’ll be back, just gonna go grab some waters for us” he spoke gently, leaving a kiss on my cheek before exiting his room.

i checked my phone, seeing several missed messages.

nick <33

get that dick sisss

wait that’s literally my brother wtf

you two sick fucks are actually disgusting

chris <33

i hate you both

you’re so fucking loud

and the shaking at the dinner table ? you are some freaky fuckers

🌸🌸🌸🌸

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @vib3swithanuk @sturnsdior @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @annelisseakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @lolll1029

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baelabong · 16 days

Text

ᴄʟᴜᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ

ʀɪᴄʜɢɪʀʟ! ʏ/ɴ x ᴏʟᴅᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀꜱʙꜱꜰʀ!ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ

Plot: Y/N lives a life of luxury, lounging by the pool in her mansion, completely at ease. But when her sister’s best friend, Karina, shows up, everything changes. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act like the perfect spoiled princess, she finds herself struggling with feelings she doesn’t want to admit.

Warnings: no, fluff, lowkey angst, y/ns a bitch lowkey

wc/rq: 7.5 k words/no, i was just watching clueless again Notes: guys pls teach me ho tochange the colour of the text in tumblr also this took me FIVE DAYS OMG

it’s another perfect day as you lounge around your mansion, well…. your dads but whatever, and you’re in your element. lounging by the pool is practically a full-time job for you, and honestly? no one does it better. your designer sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your iced drink sits on the little table next to you, condensation sliding down the glass, while your phone is buzzing nonstop with notifications. friends asking about plans, people wanting your attention—it’s exhausting, really. but you couldn’t care less at the moment. the world is yours, and you’re revelling in it.

you stretch out on your lounger, flipping through your phone without much interest, skimming texts, and rolling your eyes at half of them. you don’t feel like replying. it’s one of those lazy afternoons where you can just exist in your little bubble, and everything is going your way.

until you hear her voice.

karina.

the sound of her laughing from inside the house catches you completely off guard, and suddenly your perfect little world feels a bit too small. her voice cuts through the air, light and casual, like she owns the place—and you already know she’s probably leaning against the kitchen counter, looking effortlessly cool, as she does.

god, she’s so irritating.

you sit up a bit, tugging your sunglasses down your nose, the slightest frown creasing your brow. you try to ignore the flutter in your chest, that annoying little skip your heart does whenever you know she’s nearby. it’s stupid, really. she’s your sister’s best friend. she’s here for her, not for you. but for some reason, your body never seems to get that memo.

you roll your eyes at yourself, huffing as you grab your phone again, pretending to be engrossed in something important. but it’s useless. you scroll without really looking, your mind racing ahead of itself. the thought of karina, her presence this close, makes your skin tingle in the most frustrating way. it’s like she invades your space, even when she’s not physically next to you.

snap out of it, y/n, you think, shaking your head. but the moment’s already ruined, and lounging by the pool doesn’t feel as serene as it did five minutes ago.

you sigh dramatically, slipping your sunglasses back up and fixing your hair, running your fingers through it like you’re preparing for battle. because, honestly, that’s what it feels like whenever karina’s around—a constant need to look your best, act your best, even though she’s never actually paying attention to you. at least, not in the way you wish she would.

so you push yourself up, deciding it’s better to face whatever weird feelings are bubbling up rather than sitting here, stewing in your own frustration. you stand and slip on your sandals, adjusting your swimsuit just so—because even if you’re annoyed, you’re still going to look flawless. that’s just who you are.

as you stroll into the house, your head held high, your heart’s racing, but you force yourself to look as unbothered as possible. you walk with purpose, sunglasses still on, acting like nothing could possibly faze you.

and then you see her.

karina’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her black cropped top showing just enough of her toned waist to make your throat go dry. her jeans hug her in all the right places, and her dark hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, making her look like she just stepped out of a photoshoot without even trying. of course she looks that good. she always does.

and what’s worse? she’s laughing at something your sister just said, completely relaxed, as if the world hasn’t just tilted on its axis now that you’ve entered the room. ugh.

you can feel your stomach flip, but you swallow it down, refusing to let it show. you are y/n, after all. you’re always in control.

"y/n, finally. we’re going shopping," your sister, ningning announces, not even bothering to look up from her phone. she says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if she hasn’t dragged you along on three separate shopping trips already this week.

you roll your eyes dramatically, making sure everyone in the room feels it. shopping? again? it’s like your sister has no sense of boundaries, always assuming you’ll drop everything to go out with her. you love her, obviously, but sometimes she just doesn’t get it.

"ugh, shopping? again?" you groan, exaggerating every syllable. you throw yourself into your usual bratty mode because it’s easy, it’s safe. and more than that—it’s your way of keeping karina at arm’s length. you know if you act like a spoiled little princess, you can keep the attention off how much she messes with your head.

karina glances at you, and you can feel her eyes on you before you even meet them. when you finally do, she’s got that smile on her lips—that tiny, knowing smile that drives you insane. like she can see right through you. like she knows exactly why you’re acting this way.

god, she’s so frustrating.

"you’re coming whether you like it or not," your sister chirps, still absorbed in whatever text she’s typing, oblivious to the tension bubbling under the surface.

you huff, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a sharp toss. "fine. but we better not spend all day in some tacky boutique."

you strut past karina, making sure to give her the cold shoulder as you do, acting like her presence doesn’t bother you in the slightest. like the fact that you’ll be stuck with her for the next few hours isn’t making your brain short-circuit. you feel her eyes linger on you as you walk away, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to turn around and meet them again.

you know what she’s thinking—that you’re being a brat, like usual. that you’re throwing a tantrum because things aren’t going your way. and maybe she’s right.

the drive to the shops feels like it drags on forever, but you manage to keep your cool. you’re in the backseat, legs crossed, uour white crop top hugs you perfectly, and your leather skirt shows just enough skin to catch attention without begging for it. it's the kind of look that makes you feel in control, like the world bends to you.

your phone buzzes again, and you glance at it with a small smile. some boy you barely care about has been texting you for days, throwing compliments like they’re going out of style. he’s sweet, but he’s not who’s really on your mind. you’re only half paying attention to the conversation, lazily scrolling through his messages, while your eyes flick towards the front of the car.

karina’s sitting there, chatting with your sister, her voice low and calm, like she has all the time in the world. she laughs at something your sister says, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your heart skip for a moment—annoyingly effortless, just like the rest of her. her dark hair is pulled back, showing off that ridiculously sharp jawline, and she’s dressed in this casual, almost too-perfect outfit that only adds to her coolness. you hate how much it affects you, but you’d never show it.

instead, you lean back, subtly watching her from behind your sunglasses, acting like you’re completely disinterested. every now and then, you catch her looking at you through the rear-view mirror, her gaze flickering over you just long enough for you to notice. she’s not obvious about it, but you know. she’s watching you, and it sends a little thrill through your veins, though you’d never admit that either.

as the car slows to a stop at the shopping centre, you apply a quick swipe of lip gloss, making sure your lips are shiny and perfect. you don’t even look at karina when you do it, but you know she’s paying attention. her gaze lingers again, longer this time, before she quickly looks away, focusing back on whatever your sister is babbling about.

you step out of the car with a smooth, practised ease, swinging your small designer bag over your shoulder as your sister immediately grabs your arm and pulls you into the first boutique she sees. you roll your eyes, but follow her, because it’s easier than making a fuss.

inside the shop, your sister flits around like a kid in a candy store, grabbing clothes left and right, already talking a mile a minute about some guy she’s obsessed with. you’re only half listening, the same way you do with the boy who’s been texting you. instead, your attention keeps drifting back to karina, who’s moving between racks with her usual calm and collected grace.

you can’t help but watch her, even when you pretend you’re not. everything about her is so annoyingly perfect. you find yourself bristling at it, at how unbothered she looks, while you’re stuck in your head, trying not to let her get to you.

as if on autopilot, you grab a bright pink dress from a nearby rack and hold it up, not even thinking about it. it’s not your style at all—too loud, too flashy, too... obvious. but you’re not really shopping for yourself at this moment. you’re trying to pull karina’s focus, to force her to engage with you, to get her to stop being so damn aloof.

"what do you think of this?" you ask, holding the dress up in front of her, your tone casual, like you couldn’t care less what she says. but your heart is already beating a little faster, and you hate that she has this effect on you.

karina looks up, her eyes flicking to the dress, then to you. she takes a moment, her lips curling into a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. "it’s cute," she says with that maddening calmness. "but... i think you’d look better in something less... obvious."

you blink, momentarily thrown off. "less obvious?" you scoff, tossing the dress back on the rack with a little more force than necessary. "i think i know what works for me."

"i’m sure you do," karina replies, moving to the next rack like your little outburst didn’t even faze her. she’s so damn unbothered, and it’s infuriating.

you huff, crossing your arms, watching as she walks ahead. she’s already browsing something else, her attention completely shifted away from you, leaving you stewing in your own frustration. who does she think she is, telling you what looks good on you? it’s not like she’s some kind of fashion expert. she’s just... karina. your sister’s best friend. and yet, here you are, letting her opinion mess with your head.

deep down, you know you’re overreacting. it’s not really about the dress. it’s about how karina makes you feel, like she’s always two steps ahead, always so calm and cool, while you’re over here, constantly putting on a show. and the worst part? you care what she thinks. way too much.

you glance at her again, catching the way she moves, so confident, so sure of herself. and for just a moment, you wish you could be that unbothered. but then, you shake the thought away, smoothing down your outfit as if it’ll somehow fix the mess in your head.

"ugh, whatever," you mutter under your breath, striding past her like you’re completely over it. but even as you move to the next rack, you can feel her eyes on you, and it makes your heart race all over again.

you move to the next rack, pretending to focus on a row of dresses that all blur together in your head. your sister is off somewhere, chattering away to some salesgirl, and you’re left alone in this silent tension with karina. you know she’s watching you, even if she’s not making it obvious. but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking back. not yet.

after a few more minutes of awkward browsing, your sister finally appears, holding up two completely over-the-top outfits. “which one do you think i should get? i have a party this weekend, and i need to look amazing,” she says, thrusting the clothes at you and karina for judgement.

you raise an eyebrow, barely glancing at the dresses. “does it really matter? you’ll look fine in anything,” you say, a little dismissively, still annoyed at the whole situation.

karina, on the other hand, takes the time to actually consider the options, glancing from one dress to the other with her signature calm. “i like the red one. it’s bold,” she says, giving your sister a genuine smile.

and just like that, your sister beams at karina, completely smitten with her opinion. “ugh, i knew you’d get it!” she squeals, already grabbing the red dress and skipping off to try it on, leaving the two of you alone again.

you roll your eyes at the whole interaction, crossing your arms as you turn back to the rack. “she acts like she’s going to prom or something. it’s just a party,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite in your voice. you’re more distracted by how casual karina is, how her attention shifts so easily from one thing to the next, while you’re stuck here, hyper aware of every little thing she does.

and then, out of nowhere, she’s beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “you didn’t answer me earlier,” she says softly, her voice low enough that it makes your skin tingle.

you glance up at her, confused. “about what?”

“about why you’re really upset. it’s not the shopping, is it?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, studying your face with those dark eyes that seem to see through you.

your stomach flips, and for a second, you can’t think of anything to say. because she’s right. it’s not the shopping. it’s not even the dress. it’s... her. the way she gets under your skin, the way she knows how to push your buttons without even trying.

you bristle, putting up your usual front. “i’m not upset,” you say, but your voice wavers slightly. “and i’m definitely not interested in whatever psychoanalysis you’re trying to pull.”

karina’s lips curl into that infuriating smirk again, like she knows you better than you know yourself. “sure, y/n. whatever you say.”

and with that, she steps away, her attention shifting back to the clothes, leaving you standing there, heart racing, your mind spinning. you hate how easily she can mess with you. how, with just a few words, she can throw your whole mood off balance.

you let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing a random dress from the rack and heading toward the fitting rooms. you need a minute to collect yourself, to get away from karina’s stupidly perfect calmness, and figure out why she’s making you feel so rattled.

but as you walk away, you can feel her eyes on you again. watching, waiting. and it only makes your pulse quicken even more.

as you step out of the fitting room, tugging at the hem of the shirt you just tried on, your sister's voice cuts through the air. “you should just tell her how you feel, y/n!”

your eyes widen, and you freeze on the spot, glaring at your sister as if that would make her shut up. she says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. what the hell is she thinking, dropping that in front of karina?

you sneak a glance at karina, who’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. she’s leaning against the wall, her black leather jacket making her look effortlessly cool as usual. her expression doesn’t give much away, but there’s a small quirk of her eyebrow that tells you she’s definitely heard what your sister just said.

“what the hell are you talking about?” you snap, rolling your eyes and giving your sister a hard shove. “you sound ridiculous.”

your sister just shrugs, clearly not picking up on the tension between you and karina. “i’m just saying! it’s obvious.”

you scoff, crossing your arms and glancing at karina again, trying to read her. her jaw is clenched, and she’s staring right at you, not saying a word, but that stupid smirk she always has is creeping up.

“let’s just go. i’m hungry,” you mutter, eager to change the subject. you brush past your sister and head toward the exit, not even waiting for karina to follow. but of course, she does, her boots thudding against the floor behind you.

outside the store, you try to ignore how close she’s walking next to you, her presence making you feel both irritated and flustered at the same time. why does she have to be so... calm? like she knows something you don’t.

“you’re acting real bratty today,” karina finally says, her deep voice low, like she’s amused by your attitude.

you stop in your tracks and glare at her. “i’m not acting bratty. i’m just not in the mood for this,” you snap back, refusing to let her get under your skin any more than she already has.

karina’s smirk grows wider, and she steps closer, towering over you just enough to make your breath catch. she reaches out and flicks your forehead lightly, like she’s teasing you. “sure, whatever you say, princess.”

your cheeks flush with both embarrassment and frustration. “don’t call me that,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the bite you want it to have.

karina just chuckles, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as she keeps walking, clearly unfazed by your attitude. you bite your lip, feeling even more annoyed that she’s so good at getting a reaction out of you.

by the time you all pile into the car to head home, the tension between you and karina is palpable. you slide into the backseat, crossing your arms and staring out the window, pretending like you’re not bothered by her.

but every now and then, you catch her eyes flicking to you through the rearview mirror. she doesn’t say anything, but you can feel her watching you, and it drives you insane.

later that day, while you're lounging on your bed, phone in hand, you scroll through your social media feed without much thought, until a particular post makes you stop. it's from the new girl at school—a blonde who's been turning heads since she arrived. what catches your eye, though, is the company she’s keeping. in a series of photos, she’s with karina. they're both laughing, standing way too close, and sharing what looks like an inside joke. karina’s usual cool demeanour is softened, and it rubs you the wrong way.

your stomach churns as you swipe through more pictures. the blonde has tagged karina in a couple of them. in one, their shoulders are pressed together, and in another, karina’s hand is casually resting on the back of her chair, almost possessively. the knot in your chest tightens, and you toss your phone aside, sitting up as if that will shake the irritation building inside you.

why does she look so comfortable around her? you wonder, pacing your room as your thoughts spiral. you try to brush it off—karina’s popular, after all, people gravitate towards her. but this feels different. the thought of this girl spending more time with her than you makes your chest ache in a way that catches you off guard. you hate that it's bothering you this much. i don’t even care that much... right? but deep down, you know that’s a lie.

the next day at school, the nagging jealousy follows you around like a shadow. during lunch, you find yourself sitting across from karina, your eyes scanning her face as she casually eats, scrolling through her phone like nothing's on her mind. but it’s all you can think about.

you take a deep breath, trying to sound casual as you speak up. “so… who’s that new girl? the blonde.” you fiddle with the fork in your hand, poking at your food without really eating.

karina glances up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “new girl?” she echoes, almost like she’s oblivious. she’s toying with you. you know she remembers.

you clear your throat, trying to sound nonchalant as you add, “you two seemed pretty chummy on her post.”

karina’s lips curl into a small, amused smirk. “oh, her? she’s in my biology class. we worked on a project together. no big deal.”

“no big deal?” you echo, feigning indifference, but you can’t stop the edge from creeping into your voice. “she seems pretty into you.”

karina’s smirk only grows. “what? are you jealous?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “me? jealous? please. i just thought it was interesting, that’s all.”

karina sets her phone down and leans in closer, resting her elbows on the table, her gaze never leaving yours. “you’re cute when you’re jealous, y/n.”

your cheeks flush instantly at her words, but you refuse to let her see how much she’s getting to you. “i’m not jealous,” you grumble, though even you can tell it sounds unconvincing. “i just don’t like the idea of you being so... friendly with random girls.”

karina tilts her head, her gaze softening slightly. “random girls? she’s just a friend, y/n. we worked on a project together, nothing more.” she sounds sincere, but her playful smirk never fully disappears. it’s like she’s reveling in how worked up you’re getting.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, playing with the edge of your sleeve, “she looked pretty cozy for ‘just a friend.’”

karina leans even closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “you know,” she says, eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you want my attention, all you have to do is ask.”

your breath catches in your throat. you’re not used to karina being this direct. she’s always been confident, sure, but this—this teasing, almost predatory energy—is making your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“who said i wanted your attention?” you try to snap back, but your voice is quieter, weaker, and you can tell karina’s picking up on it.

karina leans back, her smirk widening as if she’s won some silent battle. “oh, trust me, y/n. i can tell.”

you huff, crossing your arms tighter over your chest, but you don’t argue further. the truth is, you *do* want her attention—have wanted it for a while now. but admitting that feels too much like giving her the upper hand, and you’re not about to hand that over so easily.

karina watches you for a moment, her eyes twinkling with amusement. she knows exactly how to push your buttons, and she’s enjoying every second of it. “don’t worry,” she says, voice softer but still teasing. “you don’t have to be jealous of anyone else. i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, trying to keep the blush from creeping up your neck. “i’m not jealous,” you insist, but even you can hear how weak it sounds now.

karina just chuckles, shaking her head as she goes back to her phone, but not before giving you a knowing look that makes your heart skip a beat.

“sure, y/n,” she murmurs. “sure.”

the sound of the door dings again, the cheery chime contrasting sharply with the heavy sigh you can’t help but let escape your lips as you settle back into your chair, stirring your iced latte without any real interest. the hum of the coffee shop, alive with the chatter of customers and the clinking of dishes, fades into a dull background noise as your attention drifts elsewhere. your sister, ningning, somehow managed to drag you into this little outing with her friends—definitely not the most thrilling way to spend your weekend. sure, the place is cute enough, but after an hour of listening to them ramble on about the latest trends and drama, you feel like you might just slip into a coma.

“thanks again for dragging me here, ning,” you mutter under your breath, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “really doing wonders for my social calendar.”

ningning, ever the optimist, just rolls her eyes playfully, busy laughing with her friends as they chat animatedly about something you couldn’t care less about. you zone out, drumming your fingers against the table as the door dings again, signalling yet another group of people entering.

your gaze drifts lazily across the table to where karina is sitting, completely engrossed in conversation with the new girl—some blonde transfer student who’s been soaking up attention like it’s her job since she showed up. karina, for her part, seems to be enjoying it far too much. she leans in a little closer, her expression relaxed, laughing at something the blonde said.

you can’t stop the eye roll that follows. typical.

karina’s never like this around you, but here she is, laughing like she’s never had more fun in her life. you shift in your seat, your annoyance simmering as you watch the two of them. they’re sitting just a little too close, and karina’s smile is just a little too bright. you tap your fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for the conversation to shift back to something even remotely interesting, but no one else seems to notice the elephant in the room—you.

with every joke exchanged between them, your patience wears thinner, until you just can’t hold back anymore. the sarcasm slips out before you can stop yourself.

“wow, karina,” you say, your voice dripping with faux enthusiasm. “you and your new bestie seem to be having such a great time. should we give you two some space? maybe you’d prefer to continue this riveting conversation alone?”

the table falls silent instantly. ningning’s eyes widen, and the other girls glance at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to react. karina, though, barely blinks. she turns her head toward you, raising an eyebrow, and the corner of her lips twitch as if she’s more amused than annoyed.

“what’s your deal?” she asks, her tone as casual as ever, like your little outburst barely registered. she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as if to match your stance.

“my deal?” you echo, letting out a scoff as you lean forward, resting your chin in your hand. “oh, nothing. just admiring how fast you make friends. must be nice, really.”

karina’s eyes flicker with amusement as she glances between you and the blonde, who’s now awkwardly fiddling with her coffee cup. “oh, come on, y/n,” she says, her voice smooth, almost teasing. “are you really that bothered?”

you tilt your head, giving her a saccharine smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “bothered? no, not at all. just enjoying the show.” you gesture loosely to the two of them, adding, “it’s like a cute little rom-com, right in front of me. really, I’m thrilled for you.”

karina narrows her eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “you’re jealous,” she states plainly, not a question—more like she’s calling you out, the way she always does. and it infuriates you.

you scoff again, louder this time, and toss your hair over your shoulder with dramatic flair. “me? jealous? of that?” you glance at the blonde, who’s now clearly uncomfortable but doing her best to pretend she’s not. “please. I just think it’s cute, that’s all. watching you two pretend you’re starring in some hallmark movie.”

karina just chuckles, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table as she fixes you with an infuriatingly calm stare. “yeah? well, from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you’re the one starring in a soap opera. all that drama for nothing, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your chair back slightly, but you can’t help the way your heart races as karina’s gaze stays locked on yours. she’s always been able to get under your skin, and you hate it. hate how she can stay so calm and collected while you’re practically fuming.

“right. because you know me so well,” you fire back, crossing your arms again, this time more defensively.

karina shrugs, that lazy smirk still on her lips. “i do know you,” she says, her tone annoyingly confident. “better than you think.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to snap again. you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s right. the truth is, you are jealous. but admitting that would feel like handing her a win, and you’re not about to do that.

before you can come up with a witty retort, karina glances over at the blonde, who’s now pretending to check her phone. “look, y/n, we’re just talking. it’s really not that deep.”

“right,” you say, drawing out the word. “just talking. and all that laughing and flirting? just casual, right?”

karina chuckles, shaking her head slightly. “flirting? really, y/n?” she leans forward a little more, her voice dropping, making your pulse quicken. “if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as her words hang in the air between you. she’s toying with you, and you hate how easily she can make your heart skip a beat.

“oh, please,” you finally manage, but your voice is a little quieter now, a little less confident. “you’re full of it.”

karina’s smirk only widens. “maybe,” she admits, leaning back in her chair, looking way too pleased with herself. “but it’s fun watching you get all worked up.”

you open your mouth to fire back, but nothing comes out. you’re too caught off guard by how effortlessly she’s turned the tables on you.

arriving back at the estate, you rush off the jeep, leaving ningning in the driver’s seat, and stomp towards your room, heart thudding in your chest. your heels click angrily against the marble floor, and the second you reach your bedroom, you throw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the plush pillows. a muffled scream escapes your lips as you let out all the pent-up frustration.

how dare she? how could karina just... dismiss your feelings like that, in front of everyone, no less? it’s not like you even wanted her attention in the first place—at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself all this time. but seeing her with the blonde girl, laughing and leaning in like that, had struck a nerve you didn’t know was so raw.

you flip over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as you replay the entire café scene over in your head. "if i wanted to flirt, you’d know it." you mocked the girl in a baby voice

god, why did she have to say that? why did she have to be so smug about it? it’s infuriating how easily she gets under your skin, how she knows exactly which buttons to press.

staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in your head like a bad movie. karina had been laughing, smiling, totally caught up in her conversation with the blonde—leaning in, listening like whatever that girl had to say was the most interesting thing in the world. it was infuriating.

she never paid attention to you like that. at least, not lately.

you grab a pillow and smother your face with it, trying to block out the feelings that have been gnawing at you ever since you stormed off and practically slammed your bedroom door behind you. karina had a way of getting under your skin, but today? today, it had hit differently. you weren’t just annoyed—you were jealous. though admitting that, even to yourself, felt like swallowing glass.

your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and for a moment, you think about ignoring it. probably just ningning wondering where you went off to, or one of her friends in the group chat. but something nags at you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach for it.

karina’s name lights up your screen.

karina: open the door. i’m outside.

your heart skips a beat. you scramble out of bed, peeking through the curtains, and there she is. leaning against her car, hands shoved in her pockets, looking like she just stepped out of some cheesy rom-com.

you hesitate for a second, debating whether to leave her out there or actually let her in. your stubborn side screams to make her wait, but you know you can’t. not when she’s standing there like that, looking all casual and unbothered, the way she always does.

with a huff, you stomp downstairs and swing open the door, crossing your arms defensively. “what are you doing here?”

karina glances up, her cool gaze locking onto yours as she pushes off the car and steps closer, hands still buried in her jacket pockets. “we need to talk.”

“talk about what? you had plenty to say earlier with your new bestie,” you snap, immediately feeling childish, but unable to stop yourself.

karina doesn’t flinch. instead, she steps up onto the porch, her tall frame making her presence even more commanding. “y/n, cut the crap. you’ve been acting weird all day. i’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lie, turning your back to her, but you don’t close the door. “i just don’t want to deal with it.”

“deal with what?” she presses, her voice dropping lower, firmer, in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “you were practically fuming back there. don’t act like everything’s fine.”

you bite your lip, annoyed that she can see through you so easily. “i said it’s nothing, karina. you’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”

“y/n, stop,” she says, her tone now leaving no room for argument. she steps inside, her boots making soft thuds on the hardwood as she closes the door behind her. “tell me what’s really going on.”

you glare at her, your defences still up, but you can’t help feeling cornered. her calm, unwavering stare makes your heart race, and you hate how easily she can unsettle you.

“fine,” you snap, folding your arms tighter across your chest. “you wanna know? you ignored me all day for that blonde, and it pissed me off. happy now?”

karina raises an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as she steps even closer. “that’s what this is about? you’re jealous?”

you scoff, turning away from her. “no, i’m not jealous,” you mutter, but even you don’t believe your own words. “i just... i don’t get why you were all over her. it was annoying.”

“i wasn’t all over her,” she says, her voice calm but firm as she steps around to face you again. “we were just talking.”

“right,” you mumble, still refusing to meet her eyes. “just talking. whatever.”

karina sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “y/n, why won’t you just admit it? you’re upset because you like me.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze. her words hang in the air between you, and for a second, you wonder if you heard her wrong.

“what?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

karina steps closer, her hand lifting to gently tilt your chin up so you’re forced to look at her. her dark eyes are intense, and for once, there’s no teasing smirk on her lips. she looks serious—dead serious. “you heard me.”

your heart pounds in your chest as her fingers brush against your jaw, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. this is not how you expected the conversation to go. you try to come up with a retort, something sarcastic to throw back at her, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“karina, i...” you start, but the words die on your lips.

she’s so close now, her presence almost overwhelming as she looks down at you, waiting for your response. you swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze pressing down on you.

“you don’t have to say anything,” karina says softly, her hand sliding down from your chin to rest on your shoulder, grounding you. “but you need to stop pretending. i know how you feel. i’ve known for a while.”

you blink up at her, stunned. “what?”

karina smiles, just a little, but it’s softer than her usual smirk. “i’m not blind, y/n. and i’m not stupid. you’ve been acting like this for months.”

“acting like what?” you ask, your voice sounding small even to yourself.

“like you’re trying to push me away,” she says, her hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “but i’m not going anywhere.”

you bite your lip, feeling tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. “i’m not trying to push you away,” you mumble. “i just... i don’t know how to deal with this.”

karina sighs softly, stepping even closer so there’s barely any space between the two of you. “then let me help you deal with it,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“i don’t want to seem needy,” you mutter, still refusing to look her in the eye.

karina lets out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “you’re not needy. you’re just... you. and that’s enough.”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble bit by bit. her touch is so gentle, so warm, and it makes your heart ache in a way that scares you. “yeah, well... maybe i didn’t want to be needy.”

karina’s lips curve into a smirk, but it’s full of affection rather than amusement. “you’re not needy. but even if you were, i wouldn’t care.”

you scoff lightly, but the sound comes out weaker than you intend. “you say that now...”

“i mean it,” she says, her voice low as she leans in slightly. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you for a long time.”

your breath catches again, and this time, you can’t hide the way your pulse quickens. “what?”

karina chuckles softly, shaking her head. “god, you’re so dense sometimes,” she teases, though her tone is filled with fondness. “i’m saying i like you. more than just friends. more than anything else.”

you stare at her, your mind racing to catch up with what she’s just said. “you... like me?”

karina nods, her expression softening as she leans in closer, her forehead resting gently against yours. “yeah, y/n. i like you. so stop pushing me away, okay?”

you blink rapidly, trying to process everything. your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to pass out. “but... what about that blonde?”

karina pulls back slightly, looking at you with an amused smile. “the blonde? you seriously think i’d be interested in her?”

“i don’t know!” you blurt out, feeling flustered. “you seemed pretty into her.”

karina laughs, shaking her head. “god, y/n, you’re something else.” she cups your face in her hands again, her thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “i was just being polite. i didn’t even remember her name half the time.”

you feel your face heat up, embarrassed by your own jealousy. “oh.”

karina chuckles softly, her gaze softening as she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to worry about anyone else,” she murmurs against your skin. “you’re the one i want. always have been.”

you bite your lip, feeling a mixture of relief and nervousness flood through you. “you mean that?”

you blink up at her, feeling your walls crumble just a little more. without thinking, you lean in, pressing your forehead against her chest and letting out a frustrated groan. “ugh, why do you have to be so nice to me?”

karina just laughs softly, running her fingers through your hair. “because someone has to take care of you,” she teases, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re such a brat sometimes.”

you scoff, but the warmth in her voice makes it impossible to stay mad. “i’m not a brat. you just make me act like one.”

“oh, i make you act like that?” she teases again, her voice full of affection as she hugs you tighter. “come on, let’s go inside before ningning sees us and starts asking questions.”

with a reluctant nod, you let her guide you back into the house, her arm draped protectively over your shoulders as the two of you walk upstairs together. the frustration and jealousy from earlier seem to melt away with every step, and by the time you reach your room, you feel lighter, like maybe—just maybe—it’s okay to let someone in, to let someone take care of you for once.

the days after karina’s confession are a blur of stolen glances, secret smiles, and moments that feel like something out of a dream. you still can’t quite believe it, but here you are—walking through the school hallways with karina’s arm slung casually over your shoulders, her presence as grounding as it is exciting.

and it doesn’t take long for people to notice.

whispers follow you both as you navigate the halls, and it’s not hard to tell what everyone’s talking about. the once-rumored, now-confirmed it couple—you and karina. some people stare in disbelief, others in envy, but you don’t care. karina, as always, seems unfazed, her usual calm, confident demeanor only heightened when she’s with you.

you find yourself tucked under her arm more often than not, her protective hold over you almost possessive but in a way that makes your heart flutter. she’s always close—walking you to class, waiting by your locker, her eyes softening whenever they land on you.

at lunch, you sit with ningning and the others, but now it’s different. karina’s hand rests casually on your thigh under the table, her thumb drawing lazy circles against your skin as she chats with the group. ningning teases you endlessly, of course, but even she can’t deny that you and karina just fit.

"you two are disgusting," ningning jokes, rolling her eyes when she catches karina whisper something in your ear that makes you giggle. "i can’t believe my best friend and my sister are the couple of the year."

karina just smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “get used to it,” she says simply, and you can’t help but blush.

the entire school knows about you now—karina’s arm around you is proof enough—but neither of you care. as long as she’s by your side, you don’t mind the attention.

423 notes · View notes

jaylaxies · 8 months

Text

HARD THOUGHT !

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader

cw: smut, unprotected sex, mentions of choking, usage of nicknames.

warning: 18+ content, minors dni

Rival skater!Sunghoon who always keeps you on your toes, never lets you sit down or relax by any means cause you can’t risk him being even one percent better than you, especiallyy with the annual competitions coming up. You hated the smirk he had on his face as he skated past you, doing his usual warm ups on the ice, and soon, it turned into the usual race between you both, and you were the winner this time, by less than a second.

“I see you’re ready to lose this time, Park,” you mocked, your smile vibrant as he scowled, stopping right in front of you, lips pink with cold, head held high despite his unofficial loss.

“Overconfidence is not hot, darling,” he points out. The arena was empty, minus you both—always doing the most to get even a sliver of extra practice in hopes of beating the other one.

“Don’t be a sore loser now,” you coo, and he scoffs, backing you up against the support railings, his cold finger tip on your chin making you look up at him in question, his mouth parted enough for you to get a glimpse of his sharp canines, the dim lights of the arena casting an attractive sort of shadow on his face, making you shut up automatically as you observed him.

“It’s cute that you think you’ll win tomorrow,” he started, “but that won’t happen with me being your rival,” he said, smirking and you rolled your eyes at his own display of overconfidence.

“What if I do win?” You asked, deadpanning, causing him to click his tongue, “then I won’t come close to you, ever,” he whispers, making you look up at him in surprise, “but if I win—I’ll have you as close to me as possible for the whole night,” he proposed.

“What the fuck, Park?”

“Scared you’ll lose?” He chuckles, pushing all your right buttons.

“Fine, we have a deal,” you said, looking at him one last time before skating away with your heart beating faster than ever.

There wasn’t much time to practice, granted the competition took place the very next day. You had won in your respective categories already, leaving the final round, which was the main event. All skaters were lined up for the last race, and the majority of the audience had come to watch the final rundown between you and Sunghoon, which made you want to do better.

“Good luck,” Sunghoon winked your way right before the race started.

You were determined, but Sunghoon’s determination skyrocketed, given that he had to win the bet—to have you in his arms, in his bed.

Which brings you here, right in his cozy bedroom with his gold medal resting on your chest, the cold metal juxtaposing the warmth of your skin, and his body on top of you. He kissed you all over, making you wear the medal he won—winning the bet and driving you back home with him without any delays after the award ceremony.

“You’re so pretty when you just shut up and take it like a good kitten,” he praises, snapping his hips to meet yours in a rushed thrust, making your eyes roll back with pleasure, he rolls his body fluidly as if already in sync with every movement of yours as his cock reached the deepest spots in you, making you feel good no matter how much you tried not to let it show on your face.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped out, only boosting his never ending ego with your whimpers of need, and he complied, “wasn’t planning on to,” he groaned, caressing your cheek gently before wrapping his slender fingers around your neck, fucking you hard as you arched your back and moaned for him, exactly how he wanted you to.

“So pretty,” he murmured, your cheeks heating up at his sudden compliment, paired with no other snarky remark when he pulled out, and then eased back in, his cock twitching just as your pussy clenched around him, signalling that you both were close, however, he wasn’t done with you, not yet.

Because tonight, he was the winner, and you, his reward.

#ria:thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #kpop smut #sunghoon x reader #enha smut #enhypen hard thoughts

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 3 months

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jealousy, jealousy | s.r. x liaison fem!reader

you’ve never excepted to feel jealousy in a work setting, but new things are always happening to you at the bau. although this feeling of jealousy doesn’t pertain to the direct specifics of your position, not exactly.

you busy talking with the local sheriff when something from the corner of your eye caught your attention. being as discreet as possible you shifted some of your attention towards spencer and elle, who were sitting close together as they looked over something. spencer’s fingers tracing over something while elle nodded along, her eyes then moving to settle on his face when he turned his gaze to her.

you saw the tiniest smile tug the corner of her painted lips, just a hint of a shimmer passing over her eyes. your heart felt sore at the simple sight.

“uh, i’m- i’m sorry. forgot i had to make a call, but i’ll talk with you later.” excusing yourself with a polite smile as you hurried to find an empty space in the small station. seeing hotch and gideon in the makeshift conference room, morgan and jj on different ends of the floor, you just headed for the suv outside.

you tried to be discreet hoping no one would notice your figure passing by, you pulled out your phone as a distraction as you scrolled for penelope’s number. the warm sun and gentle breeze greeted you in a comforting summer embrace though your heart felt like it was just frozen in a block of ice.

“oracle of knowledge, how my i assist?” penelope’s sweet voice filled your ears.

you sighed out, “hey pen. how you doing, lovely?” just wanting to talk with your friend. you know you could talk to her about this but you weren’t sure you wanted to have her keep a secret about coworkers.

“i’m lonely in my cave, honey. can’t wait for the group to come home.” her chipper mood made you smile with a slight chuckle, “yeah i miss you too. we’ll be home soon don’t worry.”

“so what’s the real reason for this call? spill.”

you scuffed in defense, “can’t i just talk with my friend? a little hurt you don’t want to hear from me, pen.” putting a hand to your heart in a mock show for yourself.

now she scuffed, “i always want to hear from you, but i also know that a certain boy genius is there and he usually occupies all your attention. what’d he do?”

you ground the bottom of you shoe into the concrete, “just- probably so stupid, but do you think that… spence and elle have something going on?” whispering their names as you looked around the street for any of your team.

“do- do i hear a hint of jealousy?” penelope’s teasing a great joy to have during this conversation. one that you instantly regret since it’s unprofessional. “no! …yes, yes a little.” just admitting to the nauseating feeling whenever you see elle leaning in close to spencer or you catch him looking at her with a certain appeal.

“oh honey, you love this boy. but i wouldn’t worry, i know a thing or two about him. he’s just as crazy for you, just give it a bit of time.”

#erin writes spencer #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x liaison!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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sodaabaa · 4 months

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powdered sugar kisses

anthony bridgerton x wife!reader anthony searches aubrey hall for his wife, only to find her where he least expected a viscountess to be.

tw: slightly nsfw, mostly fluff.

“Excuse me, would you happen to know where my wife might be?” Anthony asked a nearby maid. He’d searched nearly the entire house – quite a feat given the sheer size of his family’s estate – and he was beginning to worry when his wife was nowhere to be found. Most often when Anthony came home from whatever viscount duties required his attention that day, his wife could be found perched on a window sill with her nose in a book or tending to the garden. Today, she was not found reading nor gardening – and she wasn’t in their bedroom or any of the living areas either. The maid looked at Anthony, hesitant to answer his question. He raised an expectant brow, waiting for an answer.

“She’s in the kitchen, my lord,” she confessed.

The kitchen? What on earth could she be doing in the kitchen?

Anthony made his way downstairs to the kitchen, wondering what she could possibly be doing. He was met with the sight of his beloved wife wearing a flour-coated apron, bent over a tray of cookies. Her hair was tied up to keep it out of her face but despite the hastily done updo, stray hairs framed her face. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she held a bag of icing, piping intricate designs onto the cookies – or at least attempting to. “Was the cook indisposed?” He finally said, breaking the silence.

His wife jumped, startled at his sudden appearance.

“Anthony! When did you arrive?” She asked, a smile forming on her face. He looked her up and down, denoting his surprise at finding her in such an unusual position.

"Just a moment ago -- what are you doing?" He asked.

“Oh! I felt rather restless this afternoon without you, so I thought perhaps I try my hand at baking. I made biscuits!” She explained, dusting her hands on her apron before removing it. She picked up one of the sweets, excitedly bringing it over to show Anthony. He watched her dazedly as she walked over, mesmerized by her beauty, even in her current state of disarray.

"Yes, I gathered as much, you are aware you are a viscountess, correct?"

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his question.

“I’m not quite good at designing them just yet – but they taste fantastic!” She said, taking a bite out of the sugary biscuit and then offering it to Anthony. He took a bite as she held it up for him. “They taste lovely, much like the chef,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Nothing could taste sweeter than the woman before him. Though, perhaps that was the light dusting of powdered sugar on her lips from the cookie. He brought his lips to her sugared ones, letting the sweet dust melt away between them. She giggled into the kiss and Anthony had to restrain himself from taking her right here and now. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him to deepen the kiss.

“Anthony!” She squealed.

He pulled away, “Why would one ever need such confections with a wife such as you?” He smiled at her fondly, he hated being away from her for long stretches of the day.

She blushed, narrowing her eyes at him

“Feeling bashful, are we?” He peppered kisses along her cheek, making a path towards her ear. She tried to swat him away but he only held her closer, pressing her chest to his. His breath tickled her ear, eliciting another giggle to Anthony’s pleasure.

“What if someone comes in, Anthony!” She said in a hushed voice, trying to keep her composure.

“Let them,” he found her lips again. She moaned into the kiss, breaking all of Anthony’s last remaining bits of resolve.

He hoisted her up on the kitchen counter, breaking their kiss to remove the rather inconvenient layers of clothing he wore. His wife looked up at him in shock though her chest rose and fell rapidly in anticipation. His hands found his wife’s waist once more, pulling her close and returning his lips to hers. Her hands came up to his chest, untying the laces at the front of his shirt, just as eager as he was to rid themselves of the pesky boundary. His lips trailed down her neck, hands reaching up to pull her neckline down. He made a path from her neck down to her chest and then her stomach, lifting her skirt as he made his way down. He kneeled before her, looking up at her as he found her inner thigh. She gasped, causing Anthony to smirk at her sensitivity. She was supple and soft and sweet as he placed rough kisses on her thighs, leaving a burning path behind as he inched closer to what he truly wanted to taste.

“Anthony, please,” she begged.

“Patience, dear wife,” he whispered. She groaned, her hands snaking up his neck, running through his hair. She tried to push him closer, but before she could, he grabbed each of her hands in his and held them against the counter. She whined and wiggled, upset at his restraint. He only laughed at her impatience, the sudden vibrations causing her to shudder. He would satisfy her eventually but Anthony had always been one to savor his desserts rather than indulge himself all at once.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton family

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animeyanderelover · 3 months

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Anon: NSFW headcanons for Akashi Seijuro, Murasakibara Atsushi, Aomine Daiki, Snake, Illumi, Kozume Kenma, Inumaki Toge and Choso Kamo?

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, obsession, possessive behavior, dependency, delusional behavior, clinginess, stalking, isolation, abduction, Nsfw, dub-con, food play, size kink, bondage, temperature play, Katoptronophilia, shibari, impact play, praise kink, choking,claustrophilia, somnophilia, oral sex, breeding kink, impregnation kink, pregnancy kink, non-con, afab reader

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz @jamayah @cynniical @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59

Nsfw Hc's

Snake

⚕️You'd never expect someone who is a snake hybrid to be as mellow as Snake is as those reptiles normally have a feared reputation amongst most people. Your lover on the other hand is nothing like the unjustified reputation that snakes get, awfully shy and flustered whenever the two of you are together. Truth be told, he doesn't think that he is good enough for you at times even if his snakes try to convince him otherwise as they urge him to give in to his darkest desires. Tight suits and a lot of skin are nothing new to Snake as he spent years in a circus where he saw a lot of exposing outfits during performances yet one mere peek at more skin of yours than what he normally sees is already enough to fluster him greatly, his cheeks on fire as he he mutters a shaky apology before he turns around and quickly stumbles away, barely able to walk straight. He tries to sleep boners off though, feeling far too much shame to masturbate to the thought of you. When his cock doesn't go down though, he sneaks away to find an isolated spot where hopefully no one will catch him in the shameful moment, his relief short-lived as guilt fills him as soon as he has spilled his semen all over his hand.

⚕️Unless he finds himself entering heat, Snake keeps quiet about his arousal and sexual needs around you, scared that you'd be disgusted to find out that you are the subject of his desires. The first time you two share together is going to be most likely initiated by you. A lot of patience and assurance will be required from your side though as Snake is frightened to reveal his full body to you. Even when partially undressed you notice that his shimmering scales cover parts of his arms, his thighs, his chest, abdomen and even his cock but your fascination for this triggers his insecurities as he was often shamed and ridiculed for it. It's very likely that he prefers being partially clothed during sex for a certain amount of time and you don't pressure him as you allow him to do what makes him most comfortable. His body is normally on a slightly cooler side but he heats up quickly, especially the parts of him that are covered in scales radiate the heat of his body. You can especially feel that when you sense the increasing warmth of his cock gliding in and out of you, the scales on it making every stroke smooth, his cheek ablaze with heat as he pants, hisses and grunts softly.

⚕️Snake, inexperienced and worried that he may not satisfy you, prefers to let you be in charge of everything going on in the bedroom. He trusts you to lead everything and to let you do as you please with him. Whenever both of you get intimate, Snake desires extreme closeness so he always wants to be in a sex position where the both of you can hug each other or have as much skin to skin contact as possible. Outside of his heat, it is unlikely that he brings much to sex life but would be willing to try some kinks with you as long as they do not involve any pain. Since he tends to get very hot during sex you start bringing cold towels and ice cubes with you. What initially was only a thoughtful gesture out of worries quickly turned into the introduction of temperature play. Especially his scales are a very erogenous part of his body and you enjoy drawing an ice cube over his stomach, watching it melt on his skin whilst Snake feels his stomach knotting and his cock twitching inside of you. Even after both of you are finished the cold towely serve a purpose simply to cool him down as he clings to you.

⚕️You aren't surprised when you discover that Snake loves being praised given his insecurities and his shunned past. After having even lost his family in the circus, you are the only person he really has left and adores as much as he does even if he has settled down in his new life as a servant of the Phantomhive mansion. He wants you to tell him that you love him and desire him, needs that positive reinforcement to fight against his own inner demons. Snake never demands or begs for it though but the way he clings to you during and after sex is always a silent way of expressing his needs. The gaze in his golden eyes speaks what he can't vocalise and you always see it through to ease his anxieties and doubts during sex about everything he feels insecure about. You make it a point to gently murmur your praises and your love to him, to caress the parts of his body covered in the glittering scales and to praise him for how good he is making you feel. His grip on you always tightens and sometimes you even hear his breath hitching when you express your own love and adoration for him. Sometimes those skillful touches and sweet words led to a premature ejaculation.

⚕️Since the day you found out that Snake is a snake hybrid you have always silently wondered about something. It is the first open-mouthed kiss that confirms your suspicion when you feel his forked tongue tentatively engaging with yours as he allows you to dominate the kiss. You sometimes die on the inside as you wonder how it would feel if he were to use it to eat you out yet you do not wish to make him feel like he has to do it just because you ask him to. His tongue darts out often during sex, tasting your skin on instinct. His bashfulness doesn't mean that he doesn't notice your reaction to his forked tongue as he is quietly on the lookout on how to up his own game and please you better. He's somewhat shy the first time he consciously uses his tongue to play with your nipples, golden eyes glued to your face to see your reaction and you let him know that you enjoy it, encouraging him to keep going. Eventually he gathers the courage to ask you himself if he can pleasure you with his tongue as he wants to provide you with pleasure all by himself even if his preferences are in vaginal sex because of the feeling of intimacy and closeness he always receives during it.

⚕️The only time where you have Snake ever seen like a different person is when his heat drops by. His normally lower libido increases suddenly, he is in a perpetual state of arousal and acts more aggressive as his body longs for your warmth. His pupils turn into slits as he stares at you like a predator, even startling you the first time it happens. He assures you with a shaky voice that you do not owe him anything yet you express your wish to help him, curious how much will change in the sacred privacy of the bedroom. Snake is more dominant and confident as a more feral part takes over even if he still tries to be more careful. Fangs sink into your skin just enough to scratch the skin, his tongue much more assertive and exploring as he smears his saliva all over your body. Even his friends get involved a few times, wrapping themselves around your wrists that Snake pins above your head, hissing and communicating with his snakes whilst you are left in the dark. During this time he feels the excessive need to paint your insides white with his sticky release, the instinct to breed you hard to resist as his brain is addled with a heat that normally has him in a chokehold for a couple of weeks.

Illumi Zoldyck

🤎Illumi is detached from everything around him with his only focus so far having been obsessively lying in the Zoldyck family and fulfilling his duty to maintain their reputation. Sex has never been something he thought of as personal enjoyment and much less as an intimate bonding experience with a partner. It's just been something he has always viewed as necessary to produce heirs and serve his role as a member of the Zoldycks. Things change though when dark feelings of obsessive love blossom in his heart all because of your existence though and initially he himself doesn't quite grasp what is going on with his body. He's had some hard-ons in his life before yet he has never or at least rarely bothered to take care of the problem. Now things take a different turn though. Illumi is an excessive stalker before he abducts you, he gets to see you in all of your glory and even witnesses moments where you masturbate to relieve yourself. He doesn't think much of it as you are his property so it is only right for him to see you like this but what he doesn't account for is the persistent stiffness as dark orbs watch your every movement, his cock pulsing and his tip leaking pre-cum as it is begging for release.

🤎For the first time in his life is he actually unable to ignore his own libido, your existence throwing him off-balance. Instead of seeking out to control himself Illumi decides to indulge himself. His behavior, though highly disturbing and creepy, is something he thinks of as perfectly normal as you are going to be his spouse in the near future and for that will end up serving him and pleasing him as your husband. Until that day comes though, he resorts to different methods in the meantime. His hand always strokes his pale and stiff length when he is stalking you, especially when he watches you undress for the night or catches you masturbating yourself. He even breaks into your house a few times, your scent almost immediately causing him to stiffen. Items of yours gradually start to disappear. Perfume, shampoo, clothes and lingerie all just vanish without ever appearing again. Perhaps it is better to remain oblivious to the reason why they disappear in the first place though as you'd surely burn it all if you were to get it back, covered in dried spunk and saliva. Whatever scent reminds Illumi of your hair, your skin and your body always gives him a hard-on, no matter the situation.

🤎As soon as the abduction has happened, things get extremely uncomfortable for you as Illumi possesses not even a slice of shame. He admits openly to you that he has been watching and stalking you and even returns the things to you that he has stolen as he has kept them with him only to tilt his head confused when he notices the disgusted horror on your face. He's a perverted creep yet doesn't understand what your problem is. He has seen you naked before so why can't he watch you when you undress, take a shower or even masturbate? Black eyes always watch you no matter where you are in the mansion, not allowing you even one moment of peace. You never know where he is though, only know that Illumi is lurking somewhere. Now that you are where you belong though, he seems to be permanently aroused as your mere presence is bewitching. Cold and white hands suddenly grab you from behind, his nose buried in your hair as he takes a deep whiff of your scent as he presses you closer to his body, his throbbing cock pressed against your lower back. You have no saying in this all as Illumi's patience will quickly wear thin. His body is acting like this because of you so it is your job to take care of it.

🤎Consens is not something he deems as necessary and that is rather obvious in his distinctive Somnophilia. There has always been something about the way you so innocently slept all whilst he jerks off right next to you whilst touching and groping you. He has done it even before he abducted you but he takes it to the extreme as soon as you live with him and are married to him. It is not uncommon for you to wake up to him already balls deep inside of you or to him eating you out with his tongue, whether in the middle of the night or in the early morning. He is insatiable now that he finally has his hands on you and his libido needs weeks to calm somewhat down. He mounts you multiple times a day no matter where the both of you currently are. He's taken you from behind in the kitchen, in the garden or even in the corridor even as butlers passed by who professionally ignored the sight of his length shoved in one of your holes as his Nen always picked up dangerously when he sensed one of them glancing at the both of you for longer than one second. You're never let off the hook until Illumi is satisfied and removes himself from you before carrying you elsewhere.

🤎Whenever Illumi discovers something that fawns the heat of pleasure he is very direct in informing you about it. The first time you tugged at his hair during sex he instantly grabbed your hand and told you to keep on doing it, the sensation of having the roots of his hair being pulled at pleasurable. The same counts for scratches you accidentally give him though hailing from a family famous for producing ruthless assassins normally he doesn't allow people to casually wound him. He doesn't even bother hiding scratch marks when he walks around the mansion but servants and family members alike never talk about it, the only exception is probably Kikyo who sometimes tries prodding around to find out about your sex life yet Illumi silences her rather quickly. Then again, he has no qualms to talk about such stuff when you are around even if other people are within earshot. It is embarrassing, uncomfortable and disturbing all at the same time when he trails behind you like a second shadow and questions you about why exactly you didn't want him to fuck you raw this morning all whilst members of his own family could be around.

🤎When he gets a boner throughout the day, he seeks you out and tells you to help him with his problem. Whether you'll get away with only giving him a handjob or fucked raw against whatever surface is currently surrounding you remains a surprise. Illumi gains a certain fixation on your hands though, black eyes watching closely when your fingers trail over his body and brush the head of his stiff dick with fascination. He always wants you to use your hands to touch him somehow, whether by stroking his cock, pulling at his hair or scratching at his back. Kikyo has been pestering you about children within only weeks after you arrived and it doesn't take long for Illumi to bring the topic up to you either. What he has so far only ever seen as duty now has become a much more primal desire as he expresses his longing to claim your body even from the inside by reshaping it with his child as pregnancy is a fate unavoidable to you if you are fertile and capable of carrying. Things don't calm down even if you are pregnant though as your swollen stomach and growing breast only seem to unlock a new attraction within Illumi as he can't seem to get enough of you and your changing body.

Kozume Kenma

🐱Without having made prior encounters with the obsessive part of Kenma's feelings, it is likely to only see him as an introverted and somewhat socially awkward individual who prefers his time clinging to your side. All of that is true of course but it is only a part of the bigger picture that makes up Kenma. I wouldn't really see him as someone who is overly sexual as I can see him as someone who can cuddle with his darling completely naked without letting it escalate to anything sexual in favor of basking in the intimacy and comfort of it all. Whenever Kenma does get in a sexual mood though you'd be probably shocked to discover that he is more kinky than what you may have expected him to be for the entirety of your relationship so far. Has he researched on kinks on the internet before out of boredeom? Yes. Has this given him some ideas of what he would like to try out with you as soon as the both of you are ready? Also yes. Whilst sex isn't something he views as a necessity for a loving and good relationship, he does enjoy it if you are the one approaching him and vocalising to him your desires.

🐱When it comes to his preferences of being dominant or submissive Kenma is a switch who is wiling to lean more into one than the other aspect if you should have your own preferences for one side. Whatever role he assumes though, there will be something involved most of the time. Bondage is something on the frontline of things as it is one of the earliest things he discovered on the internet and the one that he still enjoys as one of the most. He's browsed through online shops to purchase quite a few ropes. Some of them are made out of soft and silky material that won't damage the skin on the wrists, others are rough and more likely to rub the skin raw. He'll use the ones you are most comfortable with whilst he switches back and forth between the both of them depending on whether he is in a slightly more masochistic mood or not. Through his interest in bondage he gets into shibari and starts practicing the art of it so that he can hopefully use it the next time you are down for a good time. You sometimes even catch him in the middle of practicing and your jaw got slack the first couple of times when he asked you unashamed if you'd allow him to practice on you or if you'd like to practice on him.

🐱Sensory depravation is another thing that has caught his eyes on his journey through kinks and another hobby on his on which he has blown quite a bit of money to collect desired items. He has his own cabinet where he stores all the stuff he usually only needs during sex. He's got a couple of blindfolds and earmuffs and together with the ropes restricting movement, Kenma finds a certain thrill in being left with only a few senses whilst having the ones best suited to identify stuff around one cut off. He himself finds enjoyment when light and sounds are taken away from him, leaving him much more aware of the senses he still has left. Every subtle shift of the mattress is something he notices with much more care than he would have before and every ghost-like touch somehow feels more intense when he doesn't know when it is coming as he can only hear his own heartbeat echoing through his body. There is just as much delight when you agree to let him use those tools on you, golden eyes observing the way you wriggle and squirm around whenever he touches you as you never know what's going to happen next yet trust him to hand so much control of you over to him.

🐱He isn't the biggest fan of vaginal sex or anal sex which sometimes is simply because he doesn't get hard enough. He does feel sorry for it at times but his libido is rather low yet he still wants to be able to please you when your body gets needy. So he starts practicing with his tongue and his fingers to please you as much as he can all whilst using your reactions as a guide to learn where to dig his tongue or how to curl his fingers to get the needed reaction out of you. It's also why he has quite a few dildos and vibrators with which he was quite fascinated the first few times as he'd never seen them in person before. He goes through the effort to use all of them on you to determine which ones feel the best for you and which ones bring you the most stimulation and pleasure as he will use those from that day on more commonly. When he takes on the submissive part which happens mainly when he has an errection he may also ask of you to wear a specific set of lingerie and stockings for him as he gives you permission to even degrade him a bit. You always see it through to never be too harsh with him though and make sure to mix in some condescending praises all whilst he is panting and squirming.

🐱On some occasions Kenma is too lazy to bother with ropes and other toys though, especially when he finds himself waking up early in the morning whilst being already half-hard for whatever reasons. Then he'll either try to sleep it off or will turn to you for help if it doesn't get better or maybe even gets worse. In such situations the sex is much more lazy and relaxed as you crawl over him and tug his pants down as he leaves the decision to you what you'll do with his erection from that point on. Whether you give him a handjob, a mouthjob or decide to impale yourself on his stiff length and ride him is solely up to you. Both of you converse in such moments in a more normal fashion, unless you suck him off, as no kinky aspects are involved and both of you just share sweet comments and compliments about each other as you set the tempo. He'll look at you with a lazy and small grin as he watches you, golden eyes half-lidded with occasional pants and grunts tumbling from his lips as you slowly get him closer to his release. Both of you usually get back to cuddling before dozing off again after he's ejaculated.

🐱Eventually he brings up the idea of taking pictures, recording audios or even videos of your sex life and it isn't something you are instantly comfortable with. He promises you to be careful though and to never let those files be leaked to anyone else. He starts with only pictures to ease your still somewhat hesitant mind about it all. It comes very surprisingly when he suddenly pulls your earmuffs off and you suddenly hear the snap sounds of his phone taking pictures of you in your current position. There is always some humiliation that comes with it as you try to imagine what you must look like on those pictures but he allows you just as much to take pictures of him when he is in that position and not you. He creates a specific file where he stores all of those records, can view and watch them without getting aroused most of the time unless he is in a mood. There have been no malicious intentions behind recording your sex life as Kenma deems your relationship to be as very stable yet just in case something unexpected should go down he knows that he has something to blackmail you with.

Aomine Daiki

💙Upon first impression no one would have ever expected for someone like Aomine to be so infatuated with his darling. Sure, he is scaring away anyone who triggers his possessive instincts but he is like a tame panther when he is around you. Now, it is no secret that Aomine has a habit of collecting magazines featuring girls who are on the busty side but he starts getting rid of them the moment he realises that he is making you feel insecure, especially if you are someone with a smaller chest, even tearing them apart in front of you to bring his point across. He's already on a rather touchy side at an early point in the relationship and prefers always having at least one hand somewhere on your body to keep you close and feel you. After you have discovered his magazines though you become suddenly very conscious of the way his eyes always linger on your chest, especially if you wear something that pronounces the curves and shape of your breast. Sometimes he is staring almost too much until you point it out to him. He is definitely a bit of a pervert and he doesn't even try to make a secret out of it. Something wrong with enjoying the sight of what is his?

💙Still he wouldn't coax you into something that you wouldn't want yourself which is why Aomine spends some of his free time masturbating whilst thinking about you. It isn't anything he feels ashamed about, after all how could he not get riled up when you are that sexy and cute? Often he finds himself gazing at a cute picture that he took of you one time on his phone whilst doing so, preferably one where more of your cleavage is exposed or he grabs something that smells like you. He does force you to wear some of his shirts and jackets so he usually always has something that still retains traces of your smell which is used to stimulate him only further. His endurance is already very obvious whenever he jerks off as he can spend hours ejaculating and emptying his balls and still have the energy and spunk for more. At times Daiki can't hide his desire for you and he has probably left you breathless countless times when a hungry kiss turned into a make out session where he pushed you against a wall or forced you on his lap and spent the next minutes letting his hands roam over your body and massaged your breast through your bra all whilst you could feel and see the dent in his pants.

💙From the very first moment you found out about his magazines you have always been aware that Aomine has a thing for breasts and that has been obvious for you ever since. The man loves your bosom and it's the one thing he loves touching and squeezing on your body the most, no matter how big or small they may be. Nipple and breast worship is definitely going to be a common experience for you once you finally let him explore your body. There is always something that will play and pleasure your nipples. Whether it's his rough fingers rubbing, pinching and rolling the nubs around or by using his mouth as his hot breath fawns your sensitive nipples whilst he licks, nibbles and even sucks on your chest. Foreplay exists sometimes entirely out of him pleasuring your breast and he has gotten so intense with it at times that you have actually had an orgasm solely because he was playing around with your nipples. When he finds out that during your menstruation your chest tends to be more sensitive and tender he totally uses that chance if you let him. After all the pleasure may be able to help you with the cramps you experience during your period so it's a win-win situation.

💙A good set of lingerie is always something Aomine knows to appreciate and it isn't uncommon that he sometimes buys you one in his favorite colour in hopes that you'll wear it the next time. It isn't the only thing that sets him in a good mood though. Sometimes it just happens accidentally that a situation, especially physical ones, cause his body to produce adrenaline which causes him arousal and stiffens his cock. Especially basketball has always been a sport that has managed to make his heart race with thrill when he faced an opponent that provided him with a good game. The adrenaline doesn't wear down even after the game and stays with him, his hardened cock persistent to not go down which is why he always grabs you after a good game and starts kissing you deeply. You can feel how much his heart is still racing as soon as you put your hands on his chest and now what is going on the moment you notice the bulge in his pants. Sometimes he doesn't even have the patience to wait until the both of you are home as he simply searches for the nextbest secluded area and takes you then and there with his body shielding you just in case someone still finds the both of you.

💙He is a beast as much in the sheets as he is on the court and whilst he does attempt to restrain himself better, at one point you always end up getting railed into the sheets as his excitement gets the better of him. As someone who stands at 6' 3 feet chances are that you are a good bit smaller than he is and if that should be the case, he is going to develop a major size kink. You're far too precious and cute whenever you are pressed beneath him with his own build dwarfing yours as he gently bullies his erect and thick cock inside of you all whilst trying to soothe you as good as he can if you should experience any discomfort in the process. He loves watching your smaller body bouncing up and down with every thrust of his, your breasts jiggling and your belly bulging when he buries himself fully inside of you as your insides literally get shaped to fit him inside of you. Conscious that he tends to go a bit feral during sex, you two actually establish a safeword that you can use if he gets too rough and if he's too deep immersed in everything Aomine allows you to slap him to snap him out of it.

💙Normally the one who keeps the role of the dominating one sometimes Aomine does prefer you to be on top and ride him. Mostly when it's still early in the morning and he knows that he has the whole day for himself which only motivates him to stay in bed for a little longer with you. One of his hands is still on your hips though and lifts you lazily up and down whilst the other one finds its way to your bouncing boobs, squeezing and playing around with the sensitive flesh. Even when he is technically still half-asleep he can't help the dirty talk that spills from his lips as your warm walls flutter around his cock whenever he brushes against the sensitive bundles of nerves only he has ever touched. He keeps you seated on top of him even after both of you have reached your climax, just enjoying the sensation of you cockwarming him for a few minutes before he pulls out when it gets too uncomfortable for you. Most of the time he just goes back to sleep right after whilst keeping an iron-grip on you. Both of you have the whole day after all so let him relax with you for a little while.

Murasakibara Atsushi

🍭For all of the clinginess Murasakibara expresses when in the company of his darling his intentions never revolve much around any sexual desires he is feeling at the moment. He just genuinely enjoys the physical affection he can get from you. As someone who stands at an astonishing height of 208 cm (6' 10") perhaps it is a natural instinct of his to protect you because you will definitely be smaller than him which in return only increases his desire to just wrap you in his arms and hide you from the world. Who knows, if you are on a small side he may just be able to do that. The first time he actually gets an erection is ironically enough yet in hindsight not surprising when he watches you intently licking a lollipop that he has given you before. Initially he just watches out of boredom because he doesn't have anything else to do but something about the way your tongue swipes over the sweet entrances him, the movement of your tongue fascinating and erotic in his eyes. Before he knows what he is doing, he suddenly asks you what flavor the lolli is but just as you are about to answer that question, his mouth is already pressed against yours whilst his tongue is exploring your own to taste the answer himself.

🍭He is kind of confused for a while after that incident because he has never been one who felt like indulging in sexual things yet it always seems to be from that day on that the combination of food and you seems to stir his cock awake in his pants. The way you lick your chopsticks whilst eating something or when sauce or ice cream drips down your chin and your tongue flips out to catch the droplets before they drop on your clothes. Somehow Atsushi just can't seem to tear his gaze away from you in such moments and you do notice that and sometimes just can't help but tease him a bit by being more sensual with every little gesture of yours all whilst he slowly leans closer, entranced by it until he catches you off-guard as his own long tongue suddenly appears and licks the food away from your face, his breath noticably heavier and shakier as he does so. Your surprise about the fact that the combination of his most favorite thing in the world, you, and another one of his favorite things in the world, food, is rather limited as you would have probably found it weirder if he wouldn't have found it arousing.

🍭That is why food play is something that is almost immediately tried out the moment the both of you find yourselves being more intimate. As his height may be something that intimidates and worries you, especially since he is massive down there, foreplay, handjobs and oral sex is something that is a far more common practice between the both of you than vaginal sex or anal sex. Murasakibara never finds himself complaining much though as he actually prefers this much more as it is literally much more tasty for him that way. He buys tons of sweets and cream the moment you actually explain to him the topic of food play and instantly wants to try out almost every flavor possible. He loves placing candy all over your skin or decorating your body with whipped cream or something else, tracing his tongue all over you, nibbling, biting and sucking whilst savoring the sweet flavor. Your pussy isn't save from being coated in something sugary either but do not worry, his tongue cleans up everything just wonderfully whilst the flavor gets mixed with your own juices as the long muscles slides in and out of you, not letting a single drop get to waste.

🍭He loves combining the flavor of your dripping arousal with ice cream, whipped cream or other sweet things as every combination results in a new favorite flavor for him which is why eating you out becomes quickly a new favorite thing for him. The taste of sugar and your juices is in fact so good that by the end of it he is painfully hard in his own pants, the tip of his cock red and leaking pre-cum. You use your hands and your tongue to coax his own orgasm out of him because he is actually worried that he may hurt you if he would put his entire length inside your mouth. If you can consume the same sweet and sugary creams he gladly uses to paint your body in he would encourage you to rub it onto his cock as well before licking it all off with your tongue. He always cums on you, staining your chest and your chin with his release and his eyes are immediately drawn to you and the way the sticky and translucent load drips down your chin and chest. Seeing you all messy and stained in his release is a sight he rather likes watching, especially if you decide to be a minx enough to use that darn tongue of yours to taste some of his spunk.

🍭Murasakibara has always been someone who has shared all of his food with you and who has fed you everything he consumed as long as he knew that you could digest it without any risks. It is for that likely that his excessive feeding has led you to gain a few pounds but he'd find that only more adorable. If you are on a chubbier side he probably wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself and would constantly want to touch you and squeeze you, loving how soft you are. He even feeds you during sex if his mouth isn't busily ravishing your moist pussy and whatever else he has decided to try out on that day, popping a sugar cube or a fruit inside his mouth before kissing you and pushing it with his tongue inside your own before pulling back and watching you chewing and swallowing it before repeating the process until you are whining that you can't eat anymore. He always makes a mess and after both of you are done, you're always covered in saliva, body fluids as well as sugary creams but Murasakibara enjoys the sight and the smell of the aftermath and prefers to enjoy it for a while longer before the both of you have to clean up.

🍭The few times where you do insist on taking his cock inside of you Atsushi preps you carefully so that you are loose enough to not hurt yourself whilst taking him. Since his height poses a problem, the smaller you are all the more, you are always on top of him as he could literally hurt you if he would move wrongly inside of you or go too hard or too fast which is why he lets you set the tempo. Large hands hold your waist as he lays down or sits whilst lowering you slowly down his erect length, violet eyes holding a hint of nervousness behind his normally passive expression as he watches for any sounds or signs of discomfort and pain from you. Once he has lowered you completely on his length, his hands on your waist prevent you from moving for a while as he wants to give you the time to properly adjust to the feeling of his cock inside of you before you tell him that you're fine and he loosens his hold as you start moving. If he is in a seating position, he just wraps you up in his arms and keeps you to himself whilst you ride him. Considering his insane strength he could probably easily lift you up and fuck you whilst standing.

Akashi Seijuro

🏆Akashi is always a double-edged sword to have as the person obsessed with you and it all boils down to his own self-control. Akashi has without a doubt the best hold of his own obsession but it is this very fact that can make him so very terrifying as this merely means that he is always in control of his own temper as well as everything going on around him. A master manipulator who knows what to do to achieve his goals of keeping you by his side yet also firm to keep his chivalry and have some rules set for him when it comes to you. This can be more of a curse than it is to be a blessing yet it is this fact that keeps him from touching you sexually unless he notices that he has your consens. He may initiate it to test the water but the moment he realises that your body goes tense or that you look uncomfortable he pulls away and apologises. He's always gauging your reaction whenever he even subtly hints at the topic all to observe and figure out your true feelings about it which will determine whether he'll wait for a bit longer or if it would be safe for him to proceed further.

🏆As a hard perfectionist Seijuro has weirdly high expectations for everything involving the relationship. Everything has to fit in, everything has to work seamlessly and if it doesn't he takes measurements to see through that it does. The same logic applies to sex life and especially the first time. He has ensured you that your pleasure is something very important to him yet at the same time Seijuro intends to enjoy you just like the work of art that you are in his eyes. You're going to get dolled up so that you are a treat for his eyes that he intends to savor slowly and sensually. He plans the first love making almost meticulously and makes a fuss until absolutely everything is perfect in his eyes. There is no need to rush the process as he actually prefers to set the mood and stretch everything out just enough until the both of you are on edge and the anticipation is thick in the air. Everything is done in a slower and borderline torturous pace for himself as well as you as he slowly helps you to strip out of your clothes and whilst the movement of his hands are calculated and controlled, the burning look of desire and painful dent in his pants is telling another story.

🏆Clothes are such an important thing to him. Akashi is not only rich but very active when it comes to the clothes you wear as a good portion of them was gifted to you by him. He wants you to look pretty and buys what he thinks would look simply gorgeous on you. Lingerie is no exception to that topic either and based on the clothes he suggests you to wear on certain dates you are actually able to guess how the evening will most likely end. Skimpy outfits aren't part of that collection though as Seijuro seems to view the process of stripping you of all of your clothes just like unwrapping a highly anticipated present. He craves the suspense, partially even views it as a challenge to him to hone and test his own self-control to see how long he can draw the sexual tension out until either you or he snaps. Art like you deserves nothing but praise in his eyes and as your lover he views it explicitly as his duty to see it through that nothing will hamper with your own self-esteem, especially not the words of others. Sharp and viligant to notice insecurities your soul may harbor in regards to your appearance, he'll be quick to correct your thoughts the next time both of you are naked.

🏆Whilst Akashi is absolutely not limited to only indulging in you in the walls of the bedroom, he is very picky with the locations he chooses as all of them will have to be prepared beforehand by him so that the mood is set. He invites you on especially tiring days for you into the bathroom where he has filled the bathtub with hot water for you, rose pedals swimming on the surface as the pleasant smell of oil he has added to the water fills the room as he helps you to undress and ushers you inside. He doesn't pounce on you like a wild animal though as he first and foremost sees it through that you are relaxed and let loose from all the stress you experienced during the day. Other times he preps the balcony in the huge garden, adding your favorite flowers and adjusting other details more to your personal liking before he leads you during the night to the secluded place. This perfectionist attitude of his doesn't allow for any imperfections or dirtiness in places where he plans to claim you for himself to the point where he would feel sorry for you if the both of you were ever forced to become intimate in a place that doesn't live up to his expectations.

🏆Visual representation is a key factor for Akashi. Everything he uses is to enhance your natural beauty even more. The clothes and the lingerie is one such example but it doesn't take long for him until he disovers the art of Japanese bondage. He's almost immediately taken by the idea and starts practicing his skills instantly. He's very picky with the material, the colour and the design he chooses for the ropes though. They're meant to make you look even more ravishing after all and should be firm enough to not allow you to move yet also gentle enough on the skin so that you don't accidentally rub your skin raw. The metaphor of unwrapping you like a gift becomes quite literal as soon as he has learned enough techniques to tie you up beautifully, always pulling away and hovering over your form for a few moments to admire and savor the breathtaking sight underneath him. He enjoys the aspect of having control, though it is more subtle if both of his eyes are of the same colour but shibari as well as his eventual suggestion of blindfolding you are signs he exhibits still when he enjoys you fully for himself. The thought of you trusting him despite being immobilised and blinded thrills and excites him deep down.

🏆Foreplay is always a build-up yet something Seijuro never skips as he deems it as yet another important step to properly set the mood as well as to prepare you to take him in the near future. Through practice, observation and learning he eventually figures out how to use his fingers and his tongue to pleasure you and find all of the right spots to stroke and touch to have you squirm underneath him yet at the same time he also learns to read the signs of your body that tell him that you are close only to then suddenly stop and deny you your incoming orgasm. He keeps you on the brink purposely by denying you your climax, heightens your arousal and your desire to have you completely unwind around his cock much more intensely when he eventually gives you what he denied you earlier. Aftercare is something he has never skipped and doesn't plan to ever do so. He keeps you hydrated and after a few minutes of resting and basking in the afterglow of the pleasure he normally takes a quick shower with you before going back to rest. He's even learnt how to properly give someone a massage and will gladly give you one if you request it of him.

Inumaki Toge

🗣️Inumaki is someone who does things in a relaxed and patient manner in a relationship as long as there is nothing that poses a threat to your life. The topic of physical intimacy is very much put under the same label as it is nothing he thinks of as desperately needed in a good relationship and more of an addition that the both of you can indulge in from time to time. He’d wait for you to initiate everything as he truly doesn’t care much about when it happens as long as he knows that you are comfortable with the thought and don’t feel forced to do it because the relationship has been going on for a while now. If he’d notice that you’re secretly desiring sexual intimacy but are too insecure or shy to speak about it though, Inumaki will step up and become more active by initiating it himself. As both of you can’t communicate verbally due to his Cursed Technique he has gotten very good in reading your body language if you do not convey something with your words which is why he notices the lingering gazes you give him and the way your body reacts when it is aroused.

🗣️In public Toge usually covers up the lower half of his face due to the tattoos there to help him using his power but he’s very comfortable to expose it completely around you as the both of you have a rather strong bond even despite his obsession as he flies much more under the radar in comparison to some of his friends. Inumaki is a major giver as I can’t see him having an overly high sex drive which is why he is able to put much more focus on your own pleasure instead. As he normally can’t use his lips to express his love for you verbally unless he uses his own language, he decides to use it much more actively when he pleases you. He showers your neck, your breasts, your stomach and the inside of your thighs with teasing kisses that he trails slowly down your body before he latches onto your sensitive nub between your legs and starts sucking and biting gently to coax an orgasm out of you. His tongue is just as frequently used as his lips are, swirling around your sensitive nipples, smearing thin trails of saliva all over your body, flicking teasingly over your clitoris before pushing the wet and warm muscle inside of you to eat you out.

🗣️As tempting as you may think the idea is, Inumaki refuses to even entertain the idea of using his voice to demand anything from you. By doing so he would force you to do something you do not have any control over and even if you would give him permission beforehand, he’d feel much too uncomfortable to continue any activity with you. Period sex is surprisingly enough a thing though that is mainly because he offers it to you when he realises that you are feeling horny even whilst you have your blood flow. You may be scared that he will be disgusted but Inumaki assures you that as a sorcerer he has seen and experienced more disgusting things in his life than a natural function your body goes through monthly. He��s heard that an orgasm during menstruation can even help against cramps and if you’re prone to strong cramps during your period he’d be all the more down for it. Admittedly, he does use his fingers during your menstruation to help you with your orgasm or he uses a sex toy if you have one in your possession and afterwards just caters to your needs.

🗣️When he himself experiences an erection he is quite neutral on whether or not you want him to be the one on top or want him to play more of a submissive role. Sex with him is always accompanied by a relaxed and attentive mood. It’s slow, considerate and nothing overly kinky unless you specifically want to try something that he would deem as safe and that wouldn’t make him uncomfortable or worried for your safety. He’s gotten so used to fingering you or using his tongue on you though that it feels weird to not tickle at least one orgasm out of you before he pushes himself inside of you so he always insists on going down on you at least once or ask you to sit on his face to let him do what he is by now quite good at before both of you proceed. It just doesn’t feel right until he feels your body trembling and squirming around, heard your pants and sounds of ecstasy and tastes your orgasm on his tongue. Only after he has fulfilled that task and knows that he has given you your climax by using his fingers or tongue does he feel finally eager and excited to move on to the next part.

🗣️If you decide that you don’t want to lie down and want to ride him, he prefers to still be seated so that he has better access to your body, wanting to litter it with adoring kisses and gentle touches of his. Most important for him though is that he always has a good view of your face and can keep eye contact with you. Inumaki always loves looking into your beautiful eyes and it’s the same even in such moments of extremely physical intimacy as it is important for him to always see that you are enjoying yourself, his pleaser behavior truly shining through. Whilst he doesn't fake his reactions to please you Toge does ensure that he doesn't hide any grunts or groans that linger on his lips when he feels your hot walls tightening around his shaft as he can't express the pleasure he receives in normal words. The prominent blush that tends to quickly spread on his entire face as soon as both of you start moving is a wordless indicator though that the entire experience is quite overwhelming for him and his body as well as slightly exhausting.

🗣️Normally he does feel safer if he is wearing protection because even if you do take contraception he just wants to be entirely sure just in case something does go wrong. If you request of him to not use a condom the next time he would still agree but only as long as he knows that your protection still works. He usually pulls out before his orgasm occurs though, his milky cum splashing all over your stomach instead before he flops down and just relaxes. He doesn't last longer than one or two rounds if he has vaginal sex with him as his own libido is satisfied after those few rounds which leaves him with only exhaustion. Even in that state of exhaustion he continues doting on you though, fully committed to use his tongue and his fingers if you should still have the energy and the arousal to go on. Otherwise he spends a couple of minutes just cuddling with you in bed, his hands soothingly trailing up and down your body before he wordlessly suggests for the both of you to take a quick shower.

Kamo Choso

🩸Choso pretty much thinks of himself as a provider and a protector for the few people he cares about. Those few people are mainly only his younger brothers, at one point only Yuji as he is the only one still alive, and the other person is you. Whilst the love Choso feels for you is obviously different from what he feels for Yuji his desire to protect and provide are at this point integrated into his personality. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if he wouldn't be able to care for you and keep you safe from all harm yet those new feelings also mean that he is introduced to things which were prior to meeting you foreign and unfamiliar concepts for him. One of those new concepts is the sexual need of his own body. You have to keep in mind after all that despite being technically quite old he has only been incarnated into a body made out of flesh and blood a few months ago which means that he is not yet familiar with all of the functions that his body has, leaving him admittedly somewhat flustered and dumbfounded when his cock starts pulsing and seems to get a mind of its own as he can feel the blood rushing into it and see how it starts pushing against his clothes, forming a bulge.

🩸Neither does he turn to Yuji for help nor does he bother to ask anyone else and with not enough knowledge to turn to the internet, Choso is left to figure it out himself. He can eventually draw his own conclusion with what is going on with his body but his own knowledge is limited and his experience is nonexistent yet it is this that seems to stress him out a bit. He wants you only happy and healthy with him yet if he can't provide for you when it comes to sex he can't help but feel like he would potentially fail you and disatisfy you. Somehow he has to figure out how it works though. He starts stalking you more intently, waits until you are in the safety of your own home and start masturbating whilst he watches you and clumsily starts stroking himself at the sight as well. He literally starts masturbating only to learn how his own body and orgasm works yet has troubles getting hard when he isn't watching you so he ends up stealing some clothes from you as your scent quickly causes his cock to stir with interest. Somehow he also stumbles across some magazines but those leave him with more questions than answers and in the worst case with some wrong ideas.

🩸As soon as Choso actually has you physically with him, whether that is through a more legal situation where Yuji was majorly involved or the good old abduction, his body goes absolutely crazy. Your scent, your presence and even the sight of you keep him into a situation of permanent arousal that won't leave him as his body can't stop the excitement and thrill he constantly feels by simply having you with him which means he is always at least half-hard. He's not touching you though as much as his throbbing cock is urging him to do. He can't stop staring at you and staying close to you though which only makes the situation harder for him as he notices every short peak of more skin when you move and always inhales your scent. Choso is a pervert but he probably doesn't know what that means in the first place and if you would explain it to him he would probably mumble that he's only watching you all the time and has done so even in the past because he desires to protect you even if you are undressing or naked. He doesn't really have any bad intentions but his body is in overdrive as he is severely touch-starved and on top of that extremely infatuated with you.

🩸His excessively touchy behavior aside, Choso never touches you unless you consent to it because the few times he did lose his control for a short while and sensed the excessive fear from you he instantly felt his heart drop at the knowledge that you were scared because of him before he pulled away, apologising with a shaky tone. When you eventually do allow him to get intimate with you he initially doesn't even know what he is supposed to do, excitement and nervousness flushing through his system as his hands start trembling. Your first time with him is messy and awkward during the start because he has neither the experience nor the courage to ask you for guidance as he wants to please you without relying on any help and the fact that he feels pressured to provide you with pleasure now that you have let him do this for you only makes his brain go a bit haywire even more. Eventually you are slightly fed up with his stubborn behavior and intend to get his attention as you grab a fist full of his hair and yank on his hair only to draw a surprised and somewhat pathetic moan from him which leaves you flustered and him panting with a blooming blush on his cheeks.

🩸Luckily he drops his stubbornness and accepts advice and help from you after that incident. Both of you make quite a few discoveries as time passes by and the most amusing one you find yourself somewhat abusing is the fact that not only is Choso a helpless simp but also downright masochistic when it comes to you. You can always draw one pathetic moan from him when you grab his hair and pull on it or unexpectantly spank him on his body with enough force to leave a red print on his skin. It's this combination of masochistic attributes and his infatuation that makes it fairly easy to push him into the submissive role yet you also learn that a few praises thrown in here and there are also always needed from him to keep him happy and aroused. Choso himself is never mean to you even if he does feel his cock throb when you are a tad bit mean to him during sex as he is seclusively a worshipper who prefers peppering you in kisses and showering you with compliments. In fact sometimes he is almost too talkative, apparently always having something he needs to praise about you even when his brain is having a short circuit during his orgasm and he just whines and whimpers declarations of love to you.

🩸He gets upset when he can't touch you and always prefers to be as closely pressed against you as possible. When he is the one on top of you it actually looks initially like he is just cuddling with you whilst both of you are naked. His arms are wrapped around you tightly, his head is nuzzled into your neck and he starts with a slow pace that gets progressively faster the closer he gets, especially if you tease him, pull at his hair or scratch him slightly. His needs to always have you close to him and worship you lead him to not only greatly enjoy having sex with you in tight spaces where both of you literally have to be smushed together due to the lack of space but also to love having sex in front of mirrors which allows him to admire you from all angles. His ability is blood manipulation and ironically enough he has a thing for period sex, especially since he heard that it can relieve the pain of cramps and if you suffer from especially intense ones and nothing else he does seems to help he just blurs out the question if he could try to coax an orgasm out of you in hopes that it'll help. Sometimes he gets emotionally almost overwhelmed with the intimacy and love he feels which leads him to shed some tears.

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