#aid to the church in need

[totallyhussein-blog]

“Have courage, dear heart, for there is nothing to be afraid of”

“The kingdom of God is within you” and in images rarely seen in the Western media, members of the Iraqi Christian community marked Palm Sunday.

Just last month, Al Jazeera reported how Christians celebrated the Divine Liturgy in Deir Mar Mikhael (Monastery of Saint Michael) in Mosul, for the first time in more than 20 years!

The residents of Mosul have lived with insecurity since the US-led invasion of Iraq in 2003. In June 2014, the city was taken by IS, which held it till July 2017.

As one resident told Al-Jazeera; “After 2003, as Christians, we used to stay at home for long periods and deliberately not go to churches and monasteries because of the bad security conditions and threats to Christians.”

When ISIL controlled Mosul, many churches and monasteries were destroyed and many are still damaged, but are undergoing reconstruction and are being assisted by fellow Christians through organisations like Aid to the Church in Need.

[chadara]

i'm not trying to be mean but if you're using tarot cards to determine if your ship is going to be canon i think other fans have every right to make fun of you behind your back a little bit

[ajaxdishsoap]

Jesus did not say that every time we rebuke or abuse the poor and down-trodden we're rebuking and abusing Him for Christians to put conditions on their aid for people

[druidgroves]

i don't think "well MY church/xtian faith isn't like that !" is the correct response to have after watching a documentary exposing a christofacist cult. because i can guarantee your church IS like that, you just aren't paying attention.

[inklingofadream]

i have to ask even though i'm afraid of the answer, but what's the homophobia handbook thing you mentioned???

The Miracle of Forgiveness

I literally didn't interact with ANYONE in the thrift store but still got the cashier telling me it's her favorite 🙃I needed it for research on what the attitude towards gay ppl in Utah was like pre-AIDS, so I wasn't expecting that to be great, but it also has some absolutely heinous things to say about all kinds of other """"sins"""" The Miracle of You're Ruined Forever Even If It Wasn't Your Fault

[tearsofrefugees]

This is an article published February 17, 2024.

[reasonsforhope]

"In Saskatchewan, Canada’s first free grocery store is set to open as a flourishing food bank continues to look for ways to support the community.

Located at 1881 Broad St. in Regina, the Food Hub will be stocked like any old grocery store, and unlike similar projects that operate out of churches or community centers, it will feature a produce section, floor-to-ceiling display fridges, and be open all week.

The Regina Food Bank believes that allowing people who rely on the food bank for food security to fill out a cart just like a normal grocery store gives back agency, and may actually help feed more people by reducing waste.

“None of us fit in a box, but that’s what we give our clients today,” Regina Food Bank vice-president David Froh told CBC News. “When you give choices, you give not just dignity, but actually, we figure we can feed about 25% more people.”

One client explained that getting handed a crate of canned/boxed goods put together in a hurry based on what was in stock rarely provides a selection that accounts for things like dietary restrictions, allergies, proper nutrition, or even just synergistic flavors between the foods.

“Normally I barter with my neighbors and we swap back and forth, so it kind of works out that way. But a lot of people don’t do that,” said food bank client Jon White. “So there’s a lot of stuff that just goes to waste.”

The Regina Food Bank doesn’t just support the unhoused or others in dire need of aid; 18% of its clients work full-time, and 2,000 students receive school snacks and meals through their work. Part of their overall objectives with the Food Hub is to reduce societal stigma against using a food bank.

Food banks do not receive government subsidies, so Froh and his colleagues had to look for private donations to raise the CAD$3.7 million they needed to get the Food Hub off the ground. Some of this came from piggy bank-sized gifts, but they also received a CAD$1 million donation from The Mosaic Company.

Much of the stock is produced, grown, or processed in Saskatchewan—part of Regina Food Bank’s goal to improve the sustainability and nutritional quality of the food their clients rely on."

-via Good News Network, June 4, 2024

[trans-axolotl]

also in regards to that last article about varied ways of thinking about psychosis/altered states that don't just align with medical model or carceral psychiatry---I always love sharing about Bethel House and their practices of peer support for schizophrenia that are founded on something called tojisha kenkyu, but I don't see it mentioned as often as things like HVN and Soteria House.

ID: [A colorful digital drawing of a group of people having a meeting inside a house while it snows outside.]

"What really set the stage for tōjisha-kenkyū were two social movements started by those with disabilities. In the 1950s, a new disability movement was burgeoning in Japan, but it wasn’t until the 1970s that those with physical disabilities, such as cerebral palsy, began to advocate for themselves more actively as tōjisha. For those in this movement, their disability is visible. They know where their discomfort comes from, why they are discriminated against, and in what ways they need society to change. Their movement had a clear sense of purpose: make society accommodate the needs of people with disabilities. Around the same time, during the 1970s, a second movement was started by those with mental health issues, such as addiction (particularly alcohol misuse) and schizophrenia. Their disabilities are not always visible. People in this second movement may not have always known they had a disability and, even after they identify their problems, they may remain uncertain about the nature of their disability. Unlike those with physical and visible disabilities, this second group of tōjisha were not always sure how to advocate for themselves as members of society. They didn’t know what they wanted and needed from society. This knowing required new kinds of self-knowledge.

As the story goes, tōjisha-kenkyū emerged in the Japanese fishing town of Urakawa in southern Hokkaido in the early 2000s. It began in the 1980s when locals who had been diagnosed with psychiatric disorders created a peer-support group in a run-down church, which was renamed ‘Bethel House’. The establishment of Bethel House (or just Bethel) was also aided by the maverick psychiatrist Toshiaki Kawamura and an innovative social worker named Ikuyoshi Mukaiyachi. From the start, Bethel embodied the experimental spirit that followed the ‘antipsychiatry’ movement in Japan, which proposed ideas for how psychiatry might be done differently, without relying only on diagnostic manuals and experts. But finding new methods was incredibly difficult and, in the early days of Bethel, both staff and members often struggled with a recurring problem: how is it possible to get beyond traditional psychiatric treatments when someone is still being tormented by their disabling symptoms? Tōjisha-kenkyū was born directly out of a desperate search for answers.

In the early 2000s, one of Bethel’s members with schizophrenia was struggling to understand who he was and why he acted the way he did. This struggle had become urgent after he had set his own home on fire in a fit of anger. In the aftermath, he was overwhelmed and desperate. At his wits’ end about how to help, Mukaiyachi asked him if perhaps he wanted to kenkyū (to ‘study’ or ‘research’) himself so he could understand his problems and find a better way to cope with his illness. Apparently, the term ‘kenkyū’ had an immediate appeal, and others at Bethel began to adopt it, too – especially those with serious mental health problems who were constantly urged to think about (and apologise) for who they were and how they behaved. Instead of being passive ‘patients’ who felt they needed to keep their heads down and be ashamed for acting differently, they could now become active ‘researchers’ of their own ailments. Tōjisha-kenkyū allowed these people to deny labels such as ‘victim’, ‘patient’ or ‘minority’, and to reclaim their agency.

Tōjisha-kenkyū is based on a simple idea. Humans have long shared their troubles so that others can empathise and offer wisdom about how to solve problems. Yet the experience of mental illness is often accompanied by an absence of collective sharing and problem-solving. Mental health issues are treated like shameful secrets that must be hidden, remain unspoken, and dealt with in private. This creates confused and lonely people, who can only be ‘saved’ by the top-down knowledge of expert psychiatrists. Tōjisha-kenkyū simply encourages people to ‘study’ their own problems, and to investigate patterns and solutions in the writing and testimonies of fellow tōjisha.

Self-reflection is at the heart of this practice. Tōjisha-kenkyū incorporates various forms of reflection developed in clinical methods, such as social skills training and cognitive behavioural therapy, but the reflections of a tōjisha don’t begin and end at the individual. Instead, self-reflection is always shared, becoming a form of knowledge that can be communally reflected upon and improved. At Bethel House, members found it liberating that they could define themselves as ‘producers’ of a new form of knowledge, just like the doctors and scientists who diagnosed and studied them in hospital wards. The experiential knowledge of Bethel members now forms the basis of an open and shared public domain of collective knowledge about mental health, one distributed through books, newspaper articles, documentaries and social media.

Tōjisha-kenkyū quickly caught on, making Bethel House a site of pilgrimage for those seeking alternatives to traditional psychiatry. Eventually, a café was opened, public lectures and events were held, and even merchandise (including T-shirts depicting members’ hallucinations) was sold to help support the project. Bethel won further fame when their ‘Hallucination and Delusion Grand Prix’ was aired on national television in Japan. At these events, people in Urakawa are invited to listen and laugh alongside Bethel members who share stories of their hallucinations and delusions. Afterwards, the audience votes to decide who should win first prize for the most hilarious or moving account. One previous winner told a story about a failed journey into the mountains to ride a UFO and ‘save the world’ (it failed because other Bethel members convinced him he needed a licence to ride a UFO, which he didn’t have). Another winner told a story about living in a public restroom at a train station for four days to respect the orders of an auditory hallucination. Tōjisha-kenkyū received further interest, in and outside Japan, when the American anthropologist Karen Nakamura wrote A Disability of the Soul: An Ethnography of Schizophrenia and Mental Illness in Contemporary Japan (2013), a detailed and moving account of life at Bethel House. "

-Japan's Radical Alternative to Psychiatric Diagnosis by Satsuki Ayaya and Junko Kitanaka

[skyscrapergods]

do ponies ever give gifts or make sacrifices to the alicorns?

or did they use to do that and they just were like “stop it it doesn’t do anything”

Gods are powered by belief in them, and their powers are linked to what exactly those beliefs are.

The Sun was long regarded as sublime and benevolent. And she was, as long as she remembered to care about ponies. But as she towered above them, she often forgot to think about mortals while she thought about the planet as a whole, ecosystems and the heavens. Fearing they would be forgotten, the population turned to more and more desperate rituals to command her attention and favor.

Celebrations to her name did more than summon her; they gave her power. Summer sun parties, gift giving, and community feasts caused the nourishing warmth of sunlight. Hospitals erected in her name lent healing touch to the mind in the morning rays. The grander the festival, the more attention The Sun paid. You would surely be blessed with long days and beautiful sunsets as thanks for the artisans crafting stained glass windows for her churches.

Not every pony was happy with happiness. They wanted more. With greater gifts and more breathtaking rituals, surely they could turn her favor toward them and command her aid in matters of war.

The sacrifices began.

They got what they wanted, in the end. The Sun turned her attention on their alters stained with blood and pools running red.

She was not pleased with this new form of worship. She was not pleased with the powers it weaved into her feathers, with the new nature of her lifegiving light.

She smote them all.

In the reeling black of burning villages, she wondered what she had done. She could not wash their stain from her essence. Her act of wrath had cemented their violence into her very being.

Now the sunlight shriveled, it seared, it dried and droughted. To the creatures she loved so much, it caused burns and other illnesses of the flank. She had become one with fire.

The harshness of her love never faded. Society had to adapt. Agriculture now required levies and aqueducts to irrigate the fields and keep the plants from burning. Shade needed to be brought to outdoor events. Flighted ponies created blankets in the sky to give relief from the punishing radiation.

Today, all of this seems normal. Of course the sun burns, that's how it's always been. It seems like such an inevitable part of life that it's hard to remember we caused it.

But we must remember. We must remember to never go there again. We must keep our worship kind, and remember that pain is not holy. Suffering is not divine. Death begets death and fear begets fear. Do not hurt each other for the sake of your god, and do not hurt yourselves.

She doesn't like it.

[babygorewhore]

Sins of the flesh.

Charlie Mayhew x fem reader.

Father Charlie is a young, forward thinking priest with a deep internal battle. You carry the burden of fear from the local horrific murders in your community. But Charlie has his own way of comforting you.

Hi yes I have collected another character to my arsenal. Thank you so much to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with the headers and @fear-is-truth for inspiring me and giving me confidence to write him!

Warnings! Religious themes! Blasphemy! Oral! Fem receiving! Mild clit biting! Finger sucking! Use of the word Daddy! Short and sweet!

“Aren’t you a little young to be a priest?”

Your bold question took the young man off guard. A lot of women were soft spoken, tentative and intimidated by his demeanor. But you, ever since you attended the church regularly again this week, he knew you were anything but ordinary.

“God holds no age limit. I feel he has sufficiently prepared me.” Charlie Mayhew was proud in his reply. Borderline arrogant. It wasn’t that you doubted his faith but you could sense his internal desires.

You lingered afterwards, not wanting to go home yet and unable to fight the curiosity. You crossed your arms, aimlessly circling and looked down at the floor.

“Tell me what weighs on your mind,” it wasn’t necessarily a demand but his tone hinted at desperation. You kept your gaze low, giving him no reply.

He gently spoke your name but his fingers caught your chin. His warmth surprised you, his guidance moved your stare to meet his. “Tell me what weighs on your mind.” This time, it was a demand.

“I’m afraid. Of what’s going on.” You whisper and inhale sharply as Charlie gives you a twinge of sympathy. His brown eyes oozing something you know is forbidden but you can’t deny it.

“Such feelings are natural of the flesh. You don’t need to feel less of yourself for that.” His tone was gentle and you watched his shoulders tense. You pull your lower lip between your teeth and he clicks his tongue.

“Fear makes you human. Humans are moldable by God. So you are just what the lord requires.” Charlie’s voice held anything but holiness. Before you had a chance to answer, his hands seized your elbows and he pushed you into a dark enclosed space.

You lost your balance and landed on a wooden bench as Charlie shut the door behind him. You could see him but shadows cast over his face. He knelt before you, his trembling fingers toying with the waistband of your leggings. Charlie was shaking with anticipation and it seemed like he was about to burst. Your hands steadied you at your sides, you looked at him with wide unsure eyes. He sucked in a breath at the sight of your soaked panties.

“If we are to do the will of God, sacrifices must be made.” He whispered and rested his head against your naked thigh.

“Father-“

“You will not address me as everyone else. You will either remain silent,” Charlie ripped your underwear down, your legs aiding him in the removal and you felt cool air against your cunt.

“Or you will call me Daddy.” His words were barely above a growl and your mouth parted as Charlie’s tongue dragged along your slit.

Your hand cupped the back of his head, his soft hair underneath your fingers as he moaned pathetically. His large hand cupped your tit, squeezing firmly and his other set of fingers spread apart your pussy. Exposing your swollen clit. Charlie sucked it between his lips, a surging aggression coming out as he licked harshly.

Your stomach tightened and coiled. His nose hit your center in the perfect place, his tongue intensely moving against your pussy. Charlie’s sharp jaw was set against your entrance and you whined. At the sound of your pleasure, he nipped your clit. As if reminding you of what he said.

“Daddy,” You hoarsely murmured as your head fell back. Charlie grunted and buried his face impossibly deeper. His digits held your folds open and your muscles strained to stay quiet.

“Pray.” You barely understood his order but you weren’t able to resist.

“Heavenly Father, hallowed be thy name,” You gasped and Charlie nudged your center with his teeth.

“Pray for forgiveness.” He demanded and added more pressure to your pussy.

“Heavenly Father, please forgive me for giving into the desires of the flesh,” You sobbed and Charlie drooled, sucking in your clit.

You gripped his hair, shaking and creaming all over his beautiful face. Your orgasm ripped through you violently, your eyes squeezing shut. Cum coated his full lips and he moaned with you. Charlie kissed your inner thighs, your lower stomach that was exposed and his blackened eyes looked at the cross you wore.

He took it, ran it along your leaking pussy. The silver shined and you looked down. His pants were damp in the center.

Your hand skated along his pronounced cheekbones, dragging to his mouth that still dripped with your cum. He took your fingers in his mouth, sucking softly for a few seconds but then suddenly stood.

You watched as he smoothed his shirt, your panties slipped in his pocket and he placed your cross beside you. Charlie’s expression held rage, madness and sorrow.

“Come to me when your mind is heavy. I’ll fuck it out of you.” With that, he turned and exited. Leaving you half naked and burning hot with a new insatiable need.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Tagging: @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @fear-is-truth @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @justafangirls-blog @chavezprincess

[totallyhussein-blog]

Pope Francis calls for international solidarity with Turkey and Syria

The Catholic News Service has reported that Pope Francis has urged all people to be in solidarity with the regions of Turkey and Syria struck by two powerful earthquakes early Feb. 6 and that are “in part already martyred by a long war.”

Pope Francis prayed for the thousands of dead and wounded at his general audience Feb. 8 and expressed his closeness to the victims, their families “and all who suffer from this devastating calamity.” The pope also thanked aid workers responding to the crisis.

Hundreds of foreign engineers, medical personnel and rescue workers have been sent to Turkey and Syria to search for people trapped under wreckage and aid the thousands without shelter in freezing winter conditions.

“Let us pray together so that these our brothers and sisters can go forth in the face of this tragedy, and let us ask Our Lady to protect them,” Pope Francis said. He then led the recitation of the Hail Mary with the thousands of visitors and pilgrims gathered for his general audience.

JOIN THE INTERNATIONAL SOLIDARITY RESPONSE!

A variety of Catholic charitable and aid organizations are part of the relief efforts. Caritas Internationalis, the umbrella organization of national Catholic charities, immediately launched a fundraising campaign and a request for donations of winter clothing especially for infants and young children. The charity has been active in Turkey since 1991 and in Syria since 2011, primarily providing aid to refugees.

Aid to the Church in Need, a pontifical foundation that provides aid to Catholic communities worldwide, is supporting reparation projects in Aleppo, Syria, to allow people to return to their homes. The charity said an estimated 7,500 people slept in Aleppo’s churches, convents and other locations the night of Feb. 7. 

Jesuit Father Tony O’Riordan arrived in Aleppo, Syria, Feb. 7 to lead Jesuit Refugee Service’s response to the crisis. In a statement, he said JRS’ priority is to reopen its health clinic in Aleppo and help protect people against the cold. The Jesuits have also opened their building in Aziziyé to host people without shelter.

The Middle East Council of Churches is calling for aid to be sent to the region, and for sanctions to be lifted on Syria to allow for access of relief materials.

The Catholic Near East Welfare Association launched an emergency campaign to shelter survivors and provide bedding, food, medicines, nursing formula, diapers and clothing to more than 2,000 families for three months in the Aleppo and Hama areas of northern Syria.

Catholic Relief Services, the overseas aid agency of the Catholic Church in the United States, was collecting funds to assist its local partners, Caritas Turkey and Caritas Syria, particularly in Aleppo and Lattakia, Syria, where extensive damage has been reported.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

hi! i just saw the ask you answered about leaving aemond out and i giggled.

if i may offer an idea, what about if reader finds out where aemond goes to find comfort (the brothel) and is upset because she thought differently of him but maybe he confesses what he actually does there (tittie suckin and therapy) and she offers aemond her own comfort. maybe reader looks more like their mother and it's exactly what aemond wants/needs. he's such a broken boy with horrible mommy issues.

this is not me at all telling you that you NEED to write a fic about this. i just had this idea jumbled around in my head and i don't know how to write it myself. 😂

thank you for your fics. they are truly wonderful. 💜

pairing: aemond targaryen x hightower!reader

word count: ~8.3k

warnings: 18+, cursing, spoilers of s2 of hotd, talks about brothels and prostitutes, fingering, p in v, lactation (milk play? i don't even know what i did), nipple play, slight mommy kink (or a lot depending how you see it), talks of infidelity, slight somno, riding

a/n: it's funny that this ask was sent cause i had something similar in mind. so this came super easily to me. i added some fire to the reader cause after ep 4 of hotd i was so angry at aemond (and still am). i can't believe he did that to aegon (he's my boy of the season) not to mention what he did to queen meleys and queen rhaenys. i'm not sure if i'd be able to forgive him. @heybank i hope this is somewhat like what you had in mind!

it came out a little longer than expect but nonetheless i hope you all enjoy! also aemond is stubborn in this fic but an equally stubborn reader and i love her for it. the reader and aegon are lowkey besties because i only want the best for him lol so don't mind that. i am ecstatic for the next episode and see the fall out of ep 4.

do you know the struggle i had to find aemond's whore's name. omg most difficult part of this oneshot.

after this fic i think i need to go to church and confess. i'm sure the priest will douse me in holy water and make me pray a hundred holy marys or something.

enjoy!!

It slipped out in the midst of their endless teasing and banter. The one secret Aemond never wished for you to find out. You're strong enough to know about the others; you recognize who he truly is at his core: an ambitious, envious man, but this one secret? This one he prayed you never knew about.

Aegon and you had been indulging in the sweet wine imported from High Garden. A delicacy that made your head fuzzy and your body loose. After finding you strolling all alone through the gardens, he insisted on drinking with you. If someone were to appease him by complaining about matters of the council, it would be you.

Those meetings drag on for hours on end on multiple occasions during the day as ravens fly in to share news of the brewing war. It robs you of your husband's attention and robs Aegon of his will to live as they tell him what to do and say, completely ignoring any input he might have—as idiotic as it may be.

You meet your distant cousin midway, complaining about how boring the meetings are and how uptight everyone is, including your husband. You offer the new King honest advice disguised as flippant comments, hoping he'll accept it even if he thinks of it as his own.

"It's not like I'm the only one who indulges in the pleasure of the street of silk. Every nobleman loves to get their cock wet by those whores," Aegon mumbles as a response to being reprimanded for his escapade late last night with his guards.

The charitable King paid for the villager's drinks and entertainment for the night. It was a prosperous night for the brothel. The 'ladies' will do just about anything to get coin. Who says the King doesn't aid his subordinates in need?

You stifle a laugh with the back of your hand and shake your head at him, "Yes, but you're the King now. It's not about laying with a commoner. It's about security. There are people who would do just about anything to gain Rhaenyra's favor, including hurting you, Aegon…"

Reasoning with Aegon is a challenge. His mind spins in ways you will never comprehend, but you try to keep your cousin safe while appeasing the council.

If Aegon values something, it's his life. If he knows there is danger out there, he will hold back, even if it's for a night or two. Her duty as his friend is to keep reminding him of all the danger lurking in the dark corners of the silk street.

"I suppose you're right, dear cousin. Guess we'll have to bring them here," he laughs as he thinks of the pandemonium it will cause. "I'll have Thalia and Margery or perhaps Dorothy. Hell, why limit myself? I'm the King! The guards can have their pick of the lot, Aemond will have his old reliable, and Lord Lannister can have the beautiful Sarah."

Aegon tips his goblet, drinking the last drops of wine to quench his dry mouth, failing to notice his slip-up.

Aemond's name sends a burning chill down your spine, and your mouth turns to cotton as it dries up. As you repeat Aegon's words, your heart promises to break out of your ribcage. Surely, you misunderstood his words.

"Aemond's old reliable?" You laugh to keep Aegon at ease. Grabbing the pitcher of wine to fill both of your cups, urging him to drink more and get his tongue looser. He won't remember your interrogation by morning.

"Ah yes, the first woman he fucked. Thanks to me, might I add. He still loves to visit her. I'd say her tits got him all enamored."

Just like the women in court, Aegon prattles on and on about everything he knows about Aemond and his whore. Including how he found him laying with her just last night—naked as the day he was born, blue sapphire glinting freely under the candlelight.

Blinding hot fury courses through your veins, lighting you up in flames from the inside out. Aegon will assume your reddening face and chest are from the wine and his vulgar words. There is no use in correcting him as you urge him to continue talking.

By night's end, you are equally as drunk as Aegon. The Guards escort you both to your respective chambers, watching amusedly how you argue with Aegon about whose dragon is strongest, Sunfyre or Dreamfyre. In reality, you were plotting which sibling would aid you in yelling dracarys in Aemond's direction.

You wish the alcohol would make you forget, but the sad truth is you will remember every single detail. The pounding headache you'll have in the morning will be a painful reminder of the secrets spilled over red wine.

For a fortnight, you sit and think about the valuable information Aegon shared with you. Anger burns ardently inside of you as it has nowhere to go. As a lady of the court, you're not allowed to train with the men, and as a Hightower, you have no dragon to channel that anger through.

If your fury were to be caused by any other reason, you'd find release in Aemond's arms. His aching cock stroking your drenched walls fervently. His sweaty skin sticking to yours. His fingers digging into your curves to find purchase. The low tone of his voice in your ear whispering words you'd never dare repeat and shamefully make you peak around him.

The thought makes you sick. How many times has he fucked her in such a way? Is it different? Does he let go and fuck her harder as he's not afraid she'll break?

Thinking is your worst enemy. As you imagine every possible scenario, your insecurities rise from their hiding spots. Does he love her? He laid bare with her; he must feel something if he allowed her to see him in such a vulnerable position.

The memory of the first time he took off his eyepatch in your presence pains you. So many conversations and stones of trust had to be set to get to that point, yet he did it with her. A common whore that dares ask for coin to please him with her presence.

You are different from the other ladies of the court who accept their husbands sleeping around with unknown women. You are jealous and territorial, something Aemond knew when you married. Under the eyes of the seven, he swore that his loyalties lay solely with you.

Alas, all men do is lie. Not even the noblest of men can be trusted. All you asked for was a good husband that would not embarrass you. How foolish of you to believe Aemond would be it.

Your fury grows and manifests as you observe Aemond and his whereabouts. It's hard to keep your anger at bay, but he's too busy plotting with Criston Cole to notice your withdrawing nature and emotional distance.

Visiting his quarters nearly every night tells you all you need to know. In that fortnight, you find him missing a multitude of times. There's no doubt he's in the brothel. Where else might he be deep into the night as the world sleeps?

When you ask about his location, the guards hesitate and stumble over their words. They try to save their necks by lying because the Prince continues to slip from their grasp time and time again. They are not as skillful at lying as your husband.

Having had enough, you wait for Aemond's return in his quarters. A goblet of wine is balanced between your fingers. The red liquid swirls along the rounded goblet, mimicking how your anger swirls around you.

You observe the map laid out on the wooden table. His plans are incredibly different from Aegon's. You pity the King as his most trusted advisor and Hand do as they please behind his back.

You've barely drank the wine. The goblet is merely a distraction from your fidgeting hands. You do not need the courage it provides; your anger fuels your intentions.

Old stone rumbles and sets behind you. Turning on your seat, you find Aemond emerging from one of Maegor's tunnels. This is how he sneaks out so damn easily.

"Wife," Aemond greets, keeping his composure, but his tense posture reveals shock. Your husband tends to wear a relaxed stance in your presence. You're the last person he expected to be waiting for him.

"Husband," you reply. The word is bitter on your tongue.

"What brings you in so late? You should be resting," Aemond speaks, taking off his cloak and approaching your seated figure.

Your eyes lazily move up to meet his. "Rest," you chuckle humorlessly. "I haven't been able to find rest in weeks."

"Does something ail you? Should I call a maester?" He asks, giving you a once over. Other than the dark circles around your eyes, there seems to be nothing out of place.

You're still you. Beautiful copper hair that easily identifies you as a Hightower flows down your back, and big brown eyes that resemble his mother's look back at him, although contempt has replaced the unconditional adoration that typically resides there.

His worry sickens you. His existence is an annoyance like a pebble in your shoe. You've harbored this anger for too long, and simple distaste can quickly transform into hate.

"Where were you?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. He's not going to get out of this. He must face the consequences of his actions. You will not live in bitterness while he runs around doing as he pleases.

"Conducting some business for the King." Aemond tilts his head, observing your posture and the set of your eyebrows. There's an electricity around you that shoots warning signs at him.

"Where. Were. You?"

"I'm afraid it is none of your business," Aemond says with a sharp exhale. He steps away to avoid your glaring gaze, unbuckling his sheath and setting it on one of the many desks that litter his room.

"I didn't realize we were keeping secrets from each other." The goblet's thud on the table is as loud as your unspoken fury. Wine splashes on the map like blood will spill in battle.

"There are always secrets. I have them. You have them," Aemond answers, leaning back on the desk.

Your hands smooth down the fabric of your dress as you stand. Finding his calculating gaze, you say, "So that's what you call your whore over at the silk street? A secret? I thought her name was Sylvi?"

Aemond freezes, and his muscles tense. You can't possibly know. He's entirely still as if the action would stop time and give him a chance to come up with an explanation, a lie. "I do not know what you speak of," the hesitancy of his voice unveils the cruel truth.

"Spare me the lies, and do not treat me like a naive maiden, Aemond. You know how much I loathe being made a fool," you snap loudly.

Aemond takes three long strides to reach you. Reacting, you take a step back but have nowhere to go. He doesn't touch you, but Aemond towers over you as he glares back. "Who told you? Was it Aegon?" He hisses.

"Please," you scoff. "The maids talk, the guards talk, husband. It was only a matter of time. Did you think I'd never find out? Are you truly that dense, Aemond?"

Your glare is sharp enough to cut him. He fell in love with that look when directed at others, but now that it's looking straight at him, he finds it's the one thing he might hate most.

All people around him have looked at him like that at some point. Aegon. Daemon. Jacaerys. Alicent. All except for his sweet sister and you, his beloved wife.

That look alone makes him regret stepping into the brothel many moons ago.

You should've never found out about Sylvi. It was meant to be a fleeting moment, but the war takes a toll on everyone, including Aemond.

Alicent's disapproving attitude towards him after Lucerys' incident led him to the whore more times than he can count as he sought the comfort Alicent never gave him and he craved.

"What is it that whore gives you that I do not?" You maintain eye contact as your chest presses against his. Your stubbornness will not let you back away from this argument. You deserve an answer.

You thought you were a good wife. Because of you, Aemond has two sons. You provided male heirs, a nobleman's dream. You warmed his bed whenever he asked and even when he didn't. You confided in him. You chose him.

"Talk, damn it. Your scheming plans won't get you out of this one," you yell, slamming your fists on his chest. Picking a fight is the only thing you have left. You want to scream at him until your voice turns raw.

"There is nothing to say. She's a quick fuck; that's all she is," Aemond seamlessly lies, grabbing your thundering fists. His thumb rubs over the back of your hands, hoping the calming gesture will tame your anger.

"A quick fuck? I could've been queen if I tolerated Aegon's quick fucks. The option was right there, and I chose you because I stupidly believed you'd make a better husband," you scream as your cheeks turn an unbelievable shade of red.

"Wife, please," Aemond pleads as you remind him.

The choice to wed you was not his to make. It was entirely yours. Each night, he prayed you'd choose to marry him. A woman of incredible smarts and hypnotizing beauty deserved to be with a man who acknowledged those attributes, not a blundering man like Aegon, who would only use her for her body.

"Do not touch me," you spit, tearing your wrists from his grasp and pushing him back with all the muster you could gather. "How dare you try to touch me after you've laid with her? After you fucked her? You repulse me."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you spew your words. Aemond stands there, taking it all of your fury—he deserves it. What you hate the most is that he does nothing to defend himself, as if all of your words are the maddening truth.

"It was not my intention to hurt you," Aemond swallows as tears fall down your cheeks.

"These tears do not stem from hurt. They are from humiliation. You embarrassed me, Aemond. Do you know how many hours I've spent praising you in front of the other ladies of the court, speaking about how perfect of a husband you've been these past two years?"

Your pride might be bigger than his, and he's done the worst thing he could ever do— wound it. Such a prideful woman will only forgive him if there's a good enough reason and with lots of begging.

At his silence, you push past him and reach for the door. "I've made my duty as your wife and given you two sons. Do not expect more from me. Go to your little whore and see if she'll perform the wifely duties you asked from me." With one more glance towards your husband, you slam the door.

It is no mystery why Aemond is in a mood from that night forward. Guards stand straighter with him around, Aegon's so-called friends keep quiet, and Criston Cole bears the brunt of it all as Aemond calls him to spar. Each passing day becomes more brutal.

You have stayed true to your word and kept your distance from Aemond. You've never felt as far away from him as when you sit by him during meals. You no longer place your hand on his thigh when Aegon throws jabs at him or smile his way when he says something worth admiring.

If you must address him regarding the children, you do so but with a straight face and without awaiting his answer. The Red Keep has turned grey as you no longer pull him through the halls between duties to find a dark corner to kiss or touch him. Fleeting moments he truly cherished.

He's losing you, and he doesn't know what to do to fix it. He's sure that you will never look at him the same if he comes clean with the truth. It will burn whatever thread is left of your marriage.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Alicent asks. They're in her quarters discussing one of the many plans to prepare for war, and yet he's not paying attention.

"Nothing," he says softly, eyeing the map in front of him. We should send our men to the east."

Alicent tilts her head and sits across from him, studying him closely. "Is this about your wife?"

The glint the young Hightower carries is missing. Her constant search for Aemond throughout the day has ceased abruptly, startling Alicent and Helaena. She rarely mentions him, only speaking about him when asked, and even then, her words have bite.

Alicen believed her son could do no wrong regarding his wife. Aemond adored you. He pinned after you from the moment it was announced that you were searching for a husband.

Alicent was hesitant at first. Marrying inside the family was a queer Targaryen custom, not a Hightower one, yet Otto insisted. Another Hightower in the Red Keep meant more power. He pushed you to marry Aegon while Aemond asked Alicent to consider him instead. She left it in your hands. It was only fair that you made the choice of who you shared your life with.

Aemond is silent momentarily, "She's upset with me." His words are short as he avoids talking about the subject.

"What did you do?" Alicent sighs disappointedly, leaning back on her chair. Why must her sons ruin all good things in their lives?

Alicent's reaction causes him to close back up just as quickly. Yes, it is his fault, but his mother's lack of faith is disheartening. Once upon a time, Aemond would've confided in his mother, but recent events have severed that trust. "My marital problems are none of your concern."

"Then how am I to help you fix this?" She asks in a knowing tone. Alicent feels the weight of her house on her shoulders. She's responsible for keeping everything together.

"I don't recall asking for your help, mother." Aemond ignores her judging eyes, moving the metal pieces around the map. He was here to make war plans, not talk about his feelings.

"Very well," Alicent clears her throat, moving farther away from her son. The gods are punishing as each one of her children drift away from her.

Unlike Aemond's mother, you take your duty as a mother quite seriously. Your children are all you have, and you cherish them equally. You refused a wet nurse when you birthed your first, and when the second followed a year after, you proceeded to do the same.

Feeding them from your breast brings a wave of emotion that is impossible to describe. The bond that forms between mother and child is strengthened by this natural action. Why do the other ladies in court not do the same? All they do is gossip and indulge in the luxuries of the keep. They have no responsibilities other than to please their husbands and care for their children.

The loud cries of your youngest filter through the door and echo throughout the halls of the keep. The babe has been incessantly crying for the past hour for no reason. Feeding and changing his nappy did nothing to ease his discomfort, leaving you overwhelmed. Nonetheless, you continue to soothe your child because if you didn't, what kind of mother would you be?

You ignore Aemond as he steps into your chambers, bouncing the eleven-month-old in your arms. He must've followed the cries. "There, there, Baelor," you coo, placing your hand on the back of his head, brushing through the thin strands of pale silver hair.

The babe continues to sniffle and release weak cries. The poor thing is exhausted yet refuses to sleep. He hangs onto his mother's dress and hair, opening and closing his chubby fist.

Aemond approaches you, extending his hands to take him from you, "May I?"

You cannot refuse him. Baelor is his son, and while he seeks the pleasure of common whores you know he adores his sons.

Baelor is fuzzy and complains when he's taken away from your warm embrace, but he immediately settles in his father's hold when he recognizes him. The smell of Aemond's leather clothes offered him the comfort he was searching for.

Baelor missed his father.

"Clearly, you're his favorite," you murmur, settling down in the chaise that faces the fireplace. You're worse for wear. It's hard to find rest when questions remain unanswered, and you've lost the person you love most.

"Only till it's time to feed," Aemond says to lighten the mood between you.

You scoff, removing your jewelry and tossing it on the cushion beside you. "Great, I'm a glorified cow, only used to feed."

Aemond falters, his hold on his son tightening as he curls closer into Aemond's neck. Baelor's soft breaths tickle his neck. "That's not what I meant, wife."

You continue to stare into the fire as tears line your eyes. "I know," you whisper. It's been a difficult day.

Had you not been betrayed by Aemond, you would've sought his attention and spilled all the thoughts running through your mind so he could tell you you were being unreasonable.

He would reassure you that you're intelligent, beautiful, a wonderful mother, cunning, captivating, and a dream come to life.

You're punishing yourself. You decided to distance yourself, and came to the horrid realization that it is much harder than you bargained. You underestimated what three years of always being together would do to you.

Aemond catches on to your apprehension and puts a sleeping Baelor on the cradle the nursemaid left by your bed. He returns to your side and kneels on the floor right by your feet.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes for the first time since that night. It's been a long, difficult four weeks without you by his side. He misses all the little things you did for him.

All the check-ups throughout the day to make sure he's broken fast or slept well. Brushing his hair at night before he takes you to bed and shows you his gratitude. Your eyes meeting his across the room, suggesting he takes you elsewhere for a stolen private moment away from everyone else.

He misses you telling him about everything Baelor and Rhaegar got up to in the day and about every new milestone they hit, suggesting they are as healthy as they can be. He misses the late nights spent tangled together, talking about what the future holds for you both, the idea of having a baby girl for Rhaegar and Baelor to protect.

"What do you apologize for now?"

"For betraying your trust. I made an oath and broke it, and for that, I apologize. It is my biggest regret in life," Aemond says, reaching for your hand. "Please, forgive me."

"Then why do you continue to lie?" You whisper as a tear rolls down your cheeks.

"That's the only truth there is," Aemond whispers breathlessly. You give him a pitiful chuckle and tug your hand away from his despite wanting to hold onto it forever.

Your nose burns as more tears spill from your eyes. Insecurity wrapping you in its arms. "Please, do not lie. Why do you want me to believe you went to the brothel for a fleeting pleasure when I have always been here? Am I not good enough for you?"

Your anger has simmered down to a smoky sadness that envelops you. Aemond is lying to you when you're the person he's supposed to trust the most. If there is a chance of rebuilding this marriage, he must tell you the truth, even if it ruins you.

"Gods, you are everything I wanted and more, my sweet wife," Aemond speaks, cupping your face to wipe away your salty tears.

He's at a loss. He's hurt you, but the pain can be remedied if he speaks the truth. How can he allow you to believe you're not enough when you're the perfect woman. His endeavors in the street of silk stem from his own damaged soul, never yours.

"I am afraid," Aemond confesses, brushing one last tear with the pad of his thumb before he retreats his hands. You stare back at him, puzzled. "It is not what you believe. I have not laid with another woman since I married you."

"Then what is it, Aemond? Because my mind has conjured up the worst of scenarios."

"You will not think of me the same," he says, ashamed, hanging his head to avoid your hurt gaze.

"Is that such a bad thing?" You ask aloud, and without awaiting his response, you continue to speak, "Until you work up the courage to tell me the truth, things will remain the same. No matter how much it hurts."

Standing, you leave Aemond kneeling on the floor to prepare for sleep. You glance over your shoulder and watch Aemond stare deep into the fire. When you step out of the privacy screen, he's gone.

It takes another week of agony for Aemond to come to a decision. He cannot bear having you so close yet so far away. He misses you and greatly underestimates how much happier you make him.

He hasn't been to the brothel since the night you confronted him. He barely spares it a thought nowadays. You are the only person wreaking havoc in his head.

He fucked up his marriage, and now he has to pay his dues, even if it means coming clean about his intentions with Sylvi. It was barely sexual, he hasn't fucked her since he married you, but he couldn't let go of the comfort she provided, and Alicent withdrew.

He's smart enough to know it's a farce. The women in the brothel will do just about anything if it means they are paid. But Aemond deluded himself into believing Sylvi cared about what he had to say and told her things he hadn't spoken to anyone else. She played the part well, giving advice freely and reassuring him with soft touches and softer words.

When the guard opens the door to Aemond's chambers, allowing you to enter, he instantly stands, approaching you to ask for your hand and kiss the back of it.

You raise an eyebrow at him but allow him nonetheless. The press of his lips to your skin sends a spark up your arm and down your spine.

"Wife," he greets, guiding you to sit.

"Aemond," you reply, not quite giving in to his sweet actions. Aemond summoned you with the promise of the truth. That is why you're here.

"How does the day find you?"

"Aemond, please," you plead. You came for the truth, and niceties won't do anything to soften the brunt of his words. Prolonging this won't help anyone.

"Very well," Aemond sighs, gesturing you to sit. His hands remain on his lap where he opens and closes them anxiously. "I met her when I was three and ten. Aegon forced me to the brothel because he thought it was time I…became a man."

You dare not speak as Aemond justifies his actions. You need to know the truth before your nerves consume you.

This is the tricky part of his story. After a brief pause, he clears his throat and continues, "She was far older than I was and offered something I lacked in the Keep. Comfort, solace, familiarity, whatever you want to call it. I continued to visit her throughout my youth, although it wasn't always to find release rather than someone to listen and give me what my mother never could."

Aemond avoids looking at you, afraid of what he might find written on your face. Perhaps disgust, shame, or disapproval.

He owed you the truth, so he spoke about all the details of this affair. How he liked the intimacy of lying naked with Sylvi, suckling at her breast. How she would hold him in her arms and touch him. The advice she would offer. The things they spoke about. How he rejects her when she makes any advances, thinking that's what he wants. He admits that he is completely vulnerable and free for those hours because she will have his side no matter what he says.

"Do you have feelings for her?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. It's terrifying to think he might harbor feelings for her. Such intimate acts easily allow feelings to infiltrate one's being. "Aemond, look at me."

Hesitantly, Aemond meets your eyes. Your face is blank, devoid of emotion that may indicate what you now think of him.

"No, and I never will," Aemond says, swallowing the lump in his throat. He chooses his words carefully, "She was an escape, someone to listen to the tragedy that was my life. She knew what I wanted and gave it unsolicited. I know it is not real, wife, but I was foolish enough to seek more."

The emotion that surfaces in your face is not directed at him; instead, it reflects the insecurities you have about yourself. "Did you not think I could give you what she did and actually mean it?"

Insecurities of his own rise up and make themselves shown, "I thought you would see me as a weaker man."

You're both so young with so much to learn, yet if there is one thing you're certain about, it's the love you share. That love would never make you see Aemond as weak; it would transform that quality he refers to as weak into something totally different and positive.

"You are not weak but a fool," you shake your head, reaching for him. It is your turn to cup his face to force him to focus only on you. "I know of those feelings you hide firmly, Aemond. I spent most of my childhood here in King's Landing. I watched while Aegon and the Strong boys teased you. I was here when you returned from Driftmark without an eye. I heard your cries of pain. You come off as this stoic man to everyone else, the fierce Aemond, but I know the real you."

"I am ashamed." Aemond is truthful. No more lies weight his beating heart.

"Do you swear to never look for her again? That you will come to me instead?"

"I swear it by the old gods and the new. I swear it by the seven. I swear it by my life," Aemond promises. "Will you return to me, wife?" He asks hopefully, placing his hands over yours, afraid your touch will leave him.

"Yes, husband," you nod, pressing your forehead against his.

Your lips find his as the last word you speak is uttered. It's been far too long, and his dragon blood is calling for you. Aemond is quick to react, moving his lips desperately against yours and pulling you to his lap.

He comes to you late at night once there are no more council calls or responsibilities to tend to. It's around that time when he has nothing to busy himself with, and the ache in his chest makes itself known.

It's a constant reminder that he is far from invincible. Pain and hurt live within him, ready to resurface at the most unexpected times.

"Husband." You greet him with a bright smile when he steps into your chambers.

"Wife," he speaks quietly, standing uncomfortably by your door. While he's agreed to come to you in his times of need, Aemond is unsure how to approach the situation.

"What is the matter?" A pout adorns your lips as you walk over to him. It's genuine concern.

Aemond stiffens when you approach him, tilting your head to assess him. You wrap your arms around his waist, searching for his gaze.

"Aemond?" You call to him softly.

"Please," he whispers with shaking hands that he places on your hips. The expensive material of your night shift is soft against his palms.

The tone of his voice and the reserved behavior tell you what he's asking for. You nod wordlessly and grab his hand, guiding him to your bed.

This is unlike those moments when passion takes over and desperate need forces you to tug and tear his clothes away. With patience and delicate fingers, you calmly help him undress.

Unbuckling the clasps of his leather doublet, you slide it down his arms and throw it to the side. The tunic that covers his chest comes off next, exposing the strong panels of his abdomen and the ropes of muscle of his arms. All a result of his extensive training.

Featherlight touches to his skin make his breath hitch as they slide down to his breeches, where you agilely untie the laces. You don't meet his eyes as you do so, giving him some resemblance of modesty, but Aemond watches intently how you treat him with such care.

You gently push him to sit on the bed, where you kneel to take off his boots and socks. Aemond allows his breeches to fall to the ground, leaving him completely naked, except for the eyepatch he wears like armor.

It protects him from the disgusted expressions people shoot him with because of the deformity he acquired as a child.

It never stops hurting.

You've never been repulsed by his missing eye. On the contrary, you're fascinated by the scar and the sapphire embedded in the empty socket.

Reaching around his head, you unclasp the leather and place the eyepatch with the rest of his clothing. You offer him a delicate smile while placing your hand on his cheek, and he leans into it.

Your touch on his raised scar eases the pain.

Withdrawing from him, you tug in the lacing of your night shift and shrug it off your shoulders to uncover your body. You had promised to offer him the same care she did in that wretched place.

The bed is covered by pillows and blankets to protect you from the cold of the incoming winter, and you mentally thank the maids for preparing the fire before they left you to rest. You lie over the furs, extending your hand towards Aemond to welcome him in.

Aemond's timidness is present, but he pushes it to the side as he climbs onto the bed and settles across your lap. Your skin is soft and warm against his, and your soft curves, molded to accommodate his children, bring him comfort.

As you brush through his hair with your fingers, you gently untie the band holding half of his hair up. You massage the silver tresses, his scalp prickling from the release of tension. He hums quietly, enjoying the feeling of your fingers on his hair.

"What troubles you, my Prince?" You finally ask.

Aemond's head rests on your shoulder, his breath hitting your collarbones. One of your hands rests upon his back, drawing figures across the expanse of it, feeling every bump and curve of his spine and muscles. The other grasps his hand, pulling it to your lips to press a reassuring kiss to the palm of it.

"That title. Prince." He murmurs sadly, taking a deep breath.

That familiar scent of oils invades his senses. It's a smell he remembers from his childhood when Alicent still cared for him. In turn, his body relaxes, and he closes his eyes momentarily.

"It is a stepping stone in the hierarchy," you reply, recognizing what he implies. Aegon does not have what it takes to rule a kingdom, while Aemond years to sit on the throne.

Aemond reaches up to grasp at a strand of copper hair. The same shade as his mothers. He twists it around his finger while shifting to make himself more comfortable. "I thought all of my achievements would be more fruitful," he ponders.

It seems that ruling a kingdom falls on the eldest male heir, even if they are not fit to rule. Aegon sits on the throne, yet the rest of the council rules on his behalf. This puts the Targaryen name to shame; the fool barely speaks High Valyrian.

"Patience is key. Aegon shows no signs of changing. He will be his own downfall," you respond thoughtfully. You hate thinking about Aegon in such a way, but it's the truth. He wants to prove himself so badly but goes about it all the wrong way.

Copper hair leads to naked skin the same shade as his mother's, and for once, he can imagine himself in his mother's embrace. It brings tears to his eyes as he curls further into you, and his nose brushes against your skin.

With the pillows propping you up and Aemond curled on your lap, you press a kiss to the crown of his head. Your touch runs all over his skin, from his face to his feet.

Aemond continues to speak his mind, and you offer the perfect responses to his dilemmas, calming him when his emotions get the best of him and tears spill from his eyes.

He should've come to you sooner. You're a high-born lady who knows much more about life in court. There were always warning signs with Sylvi. She tried to manipulate him into thinking about the common folk and their ailments more than once. She would never understand that while House Targaryen is at war, there is no space to think about the well-being of its subordinates.

When silence ensues, Aemond allows himself to look up at you. You're serene as you hold him close to your body without an ounce of impatience. The resemblance to his mother is there, but he got something much better.

He got a woman who loves him unconditionally, flaws and all.

Lacing his fingers with yours, Aemond closes his eyes and melts further into your touch. You hug him close and whisper your affections. This is how it was always meant to be.

That night, Aemond sleeps in your chambers. It would be wrong for him to leave after you've treated him with such tenderness. You are no simple whore from the street of silk. You are his wife, and as such, you are meant to be treated with utmost respect. Something he had failed to do but no more.

Breathy whines, wake him before the sun rises. Recognizing your voice, he wakes, looking at his surroundings for any danger. When you whine once more, he glances over at you.

You squirm in your sleep, seemingly uncomfortable. Something bothers you, but your exhaustion prevents you from waking. One of your hands reaches for your chest, and another whine spills from your lips.

Aemond's eye is drawn to the action. He reaches for the sheet covering your body and pulls on it to find the cause of your discomfort. His breath hitches, and his cock aches.

Your breasts are swollen and tender from being filled to their capacity, causing beads of milk to leak from the stiff peaks of your nipples.

Aemond briefly remembers you mentioning how Baelor has been fuzzy lately, and Rhaegar is getting older and doesn't seek you as often for food, yet you continue to produce copious amounts of milk. He has been blessed with a perfect wife and an excellent mother who produces enough sustenance for his children.

Aemond's pointer finger traces a path down your neck to your left breast. They are calling to him as his finger follows the curve of your breast up to your puffy areola and tip of your nipple. A slight press to the taught skin prompts more fluid to leak down your sides, and you hiss in discomfort.

Bringing his finger up to his lips, he licks the whitish liquid. Perhaps it's a mistake, as he's left wanting more. Aemond uncovers the top half of your naked body and leans over your chest. With one look towards your beautiful face, he wraps his lips around the plush flesh of your breast.A surge of liquid fills his mouth.

You have the sweetest milk he has ever had the pleasure of tasting. Aemond moans at the saccharine taste. It is so much better than the farce he had in the brothel. This milk comes from his wife, who nurtures his healthy sons.

A loud, sultry moan spills from your lips as some of the pressure is alleviated. You're now between sleep and awareness. Your hand cradling the back of Aemond's head.

Aemond's cock is painfully hard as it presses against your thigh. He's been driven into a frenzy, your milk serving as an aphrodisiac. His hand brushes against your inner thigh to answer a rising question.

Careful fingers find your wet slit, proving his theory right. He's not the only depraved person in the room. Your body is responsive to him even in altered states of consciousness.

Your cunt is absolutely drenched, making it so easy for Aemond to push a finger in. It's enough to fully wake you from your slumber. "Ah, Aemond." You throw your head back in pleasure.

It takes you a second to take in the entirety of Aemond's actions. The pleasure coursing through you, overwhelming your senses. A loud moan tears through your throat at the realization that Aemond is not simply teasing your breasts. Aemond feasts on your aching tits.

"Have your fill, my prince," you beg as that ache in your chest is pleasingly soothed.

Aemond is eager and rough. The light stubble of his jaw sends a current of electricity down to your cunt where you clench around his fingers.

"My Aemond, good boy." He responds to the praise why sliding another finger into your tight cunny. The slick sound of your arousal accompanies the suckling of his lips.

You squeeze your other breast to alleviate the tightening discomfort and drops fall on your hand. Drawn to it, Aemond switches, and you squeal as his teeth scrape the sensitive skin of your nipple.

Aemond ruts into your thigh as he quickens the pace of his fingers intruding on your cunny to part through your walls. The vibration of his quiet moans stimulates your swollen peaks.

If this is not heaven, he doesn't wish for it.

Your fingers tangle in his silver hair when you arch your back to offer yourself to him. His eye meets your hooded gaze and sets himself to give you whatever you please. His thumb circles your pearl expertly, and he curls his digits to hit your spot more firmly.

You cry in pleasure with your hips, riding his fingers until you come with a shudder and his name on your lips. Your walls clamp down on his fingers hard enough it is hard for him to retrieve them.

Aemond rises from your chest and pinches your cheeks with his fingers that remain coated with your slick, prompting your mouth to open. A stream of your milk falls from his mouth to yours as he gives you a sweet taste.

You believe another orgasm rips through your body as his lips press against yours to share a sweet tasting kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, allowing you the pleasure of tasting yourself on his tongue.

"Please," you beg for him, spreading your legs wantonly.

One to indulge his wife in all pleasures, Aemond pulls you on top of him, "Take what you desire."

His cock is fully erect and begging for attention. The tip is swollen and flushed a deep pink as it leaks pre that beads down his shaft.

Aemond acknowledges you've reached your limit when his beautiful wife, who adores worshipping his cock on her knees, grabs his length and sinks onto him without a preamble.

"Go on, my love, you can take it," Aemond hisses as you try to lower yourself to take all of him. His hands grip your hips tightly, urging you on. He swears your walls continue to contract from your previous peak.

"Aemond, husband," you moan lewdly. Your hips tentatively begin bouncing on him, and your tits follow to Aemond's delight.

He's mesmerized by them and how they continue to leak. Aemond mouths one more aggressively, teasing your nipple with his tongue, nipping at the surrounding flesh to leave his mark. His hand massages the other, allowing droplets to fall down your abdomen and onto your cunt.

"My perfect wife, such a good mother," Aemond mutters, praising you, "Pretty tits always full and her cunny always wet."

You hold onto Aemond's strong shoulders, your nails leaving marks across his back. Your hips grind on him deliciously as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

"Aemond, please," you beg, quickening your pace. You're on the verge of yet another delicious peak. "I want another." You'll have as many as he wants as long as he treats you with this much attention.

Aemond kisses up your neck and growls in your ear, "I shall give you as many as you'd like."

Swiftly, he turns you so your back is to the bed. He hikes your thighs up around his waist and snaps his hips fiercely. You first the bedsheets around you as Aemond holds bruisingly against your hips and thighs.

He's close to his own peak as well. Aemond manages to hold back because of all the attention he's giving your tits, but his cock cannot take anymore, especially with how deliciously your walls wrap around him.

Aemond admires his perfect wife. Your hair fans out on the pillows, and your facial expression morphs into one of pure ecstasy as you come once more. Your breasts are less swollen, but your stiff peaks remain puffy and flushed from his attention. Your cunt chokes his cock, knowing exactly what it takes to please him.

His rhythmic thrusting begins to falter, so with a couple more jerks of his hips and a groan, he paints your insides white. "There we go, all for you."

"Thank you," you lilt, biting your lip at the sensation of being filled.

You giggle when he leans down to kiss all over your face, a laugh of his own reaching your ears.

The door creaking open wakes you up, bringing the sheets to your chest, you sit up. Aemond lets the bedsheet fall to his lap, ready to scold whoever dares interrupt his time with his wife.

A small blonde head peaks in, and a big grin unleashes on its lips when he sees his parents. Young Rhaegar toddles into the room, and his head is barely seen as he stands on the edge of the bed. His tiny hands try to grasp the edge, but he's still too small to get himself up.

Aemond reaches over to bring him up, pressing a kiss on his head, but Rhaegar happily crawls over Aemond and falls into your waiting arms.

Aemond's exposed sapphire earns no reaction. In fact, the eyepatch tends to catch his son's attention more. Aemond ensured that when his sons came into this world, he would greet them as he truly is.

You pepper kisses all over Rhaegar's face, and he giggles, squirming on your lap. While Baelor favored his father, Rhaegar was entirely yours. "What are you doing here, little dragon?" You ask him sweetly.

The nursemaid stepping through the open door answers your question, "Prince Aemond, Lady Hightower. My apologies, he scurried away before I could-"

"It is alright. You may leave us," Aemond says, waving his hand to dismiss her. The young girl bows her head, hiding her blushing cheeks, and scurries away without saying another word, aware of the compromising position of the Prince and his wife.

"My sweetest, why are you up so early?" You coo, threading your fingers through his messy hair that sticks up in all directions.

Rhaegar hides his face on your chest, mumbling, "Missed you."

You gasp dramatically, facing the young boy with a surprised expression. "You missed me? I missed you!" Your son laughs and presses a wet kiss to your cheek.

"What about me, little dragon?" Aemond asks, tickling his belly.

Rhaegar cutely shakes his head with a mischievous smile, squealing loudly when Aemond reaches for him and takes him into his own arms to tickle him.

"Mama!" Rhaegar's childlike laugh pierces the air as he asks for your help.

"You're going to get me in trouble," Aemond grumbles, playfully glaring at his son as he continues to tickle him.

"Mama!" Rhaegar repeats, pushing Aemond's hands away and waiting for you to scold Aemond or something.

You watch the interaction with a wide smile. It's nice to see Aemond this calm. "Give me back, my little dragon, or there are no more kisses for you," you threaten Aemond with a furrow of your eyebrows and a pout. Aemond abruptly stops and loosens his hold on the toddler.

Rhaegar laughs and throws himself in your arms, hugging your neck. His giggles never cease. Aemond winks at you and pulls you to lie on his chest.

"How about we go see Vhagar later?" Aemond asks Rhaegar who calmed down to a drowsy state. It's still very early for him to have been up. He must've had a bad dream.

"Sunfyre?" Rhaegar gasps, looking up at his father. Aemond rolls his eyes and nods. He guesses he can invite Aegon so his son can see the golden dragon.

"That's your favorite, isn't it?" You ask him amusedly, although you agree. Sunfyre is a beautiful dragon and much friendlier than Vhagar.

Rhaegar nods enthusiastically as he babbles about the pretty dragon. You lay with your back to Aemond's chest as he envelops you both with his arms.

At that moment, Aemond realizes he feels fulfilled with his little family by his side.

it was not part of the plan to let this oneshot be this long. there is something about the complexity of aemond's character that doesn't let me write something brief.

nonetheless this was a super fun oneshot to write. it took me the whole week because i was so busy but i had been thinking about it nonstop. i think i overdid it with the lactation part but oh well!

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept aemond's sapphire, rhaenyra's crown, criston cole slander, emojis, words of encouragement, a lot of praise, virtual hugs and gushing about sunfyre and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

-nikki ���

[kitscutie]

hush (eric, a quiet place x fem!reader)

pairing: eric!aqp x reader

warnings: injuries, blood, just general pain but comfort too!!

summary: after you obtain an injury which requires stitches, you do your best to keep absolutely silent.

a/n: requests for eric open :)

word count: 744

You and Eric emerged from a hole in the ground beneath the church, the water you had just escaped seemed stained red as you turned, pulling yourself up and onto the marble flooring.

You knew you were hurt, would be stupid not too seeing as there was a burning coming from your shin though it was diluted through shock.

You were pulled from your focus on the pain as Erics arms wrapped under your armpits, lifting you until your legs were completely out of the ground.

You turned to face him as he lifted a hand to his lips, reminding you to be quiet. As if you'd forgotten.

He lay you down gently against a pile of rubble, quickly searching through the group of others in the church for help, 'doctor?' scribbled onto the back of his hand in the ink of a pen he found at the churches alter.

Finally after minutes of staring at the ceiling, eyes drifting in and out of consciousness he returned. Stood behind him wearily was an older woman, maybe sixty five-ish? In her past life she was a nurse, before the monsters came crashing onto New York City.

She seemingly collected a dust covered first-aid kit, hung on the wall near the entrance. You prayed there was actually enough in there to save your leg, though you doubted there would be blood- of which you were losing by the litre.

'The quicker it's closed, the better." He wrote onto a note pad, handwriting scribbled in his hurry.

"Closed?" You mouthed, under the impression you would simply need bandages. Lifting your head up you watched as the woman threaded string through a needle. You knew what that meant.

You began frantically shaking your head at Eric, 'No, no, no.' being mouthed repeatedly as your pupils dilated in panic.

"I'm sorry." He mouthed back moving you to lie between his legs, head in his lap. Your efforts to escape proved helpless as your pain emerged through any shock left over though you were confident stitches would hurt more.

He wrapped his own arms around yours, effectively tying them down. Your breathing turned rapid and shallow, panic setting in as you accepted all the pain you were about to feel.

The first time the needle went in you felt nothing. And then whit, hot burning pain. Your back shot up off the ground, a silent scream leaving your mouth as tears spilled from your eyes uncontrollably.

Eric did all he could, shushing you silently, eyes dark and filled with guilt. Though it didn't ease the pain- nothing could. No amount of sweet nothing and comfort that you couldn't actually hear would help.

He watched in his own emotional pain as your fists turned white, breathing only getting quicker, and quicker as each stitch pierced your skin.

He could no longer bear it, leaning down so his forehead touched yours in an attempt to give you solace. Your cries grew heavier, soft sobs leaving you. Panicked that soon enough they would become loud he put his mouth so close to your ear you could feel every hair on his chin as he spoke.

"You're okay, it's okay." He repeated like a prayer. Were you okay? It wasn't truly clear. Hearing it from him though, Eric with his soft British twang brought you back to reality, even if it did come in the form of a shaky whisper.

This time when he shushed you with gentle care it was audible and soothing. Your breathing slowed but the tears and pain never ended, you could only hope the stitches were almost complete.

He kept his forehead against your own but brought a hand away from your arm, instead reaching up to wipe your burning tears away, thumb moving back and forth smudging ash into your skin.

As he moved away, your eyes stayed locked with his, attempting to disassociate from this moment and focus instead on him. His curly hair, brown eyes, dirty collar which looked pristine and ironed fifteen hours ago. It all brought you pain to think of now- the simple things like clean clothes which didn't smell like smoke but nothing hurt more than the look on his face as he starred at you, as though you were broken.

You never liked that term, never like being viewed as weak or vulnerable though in this moment you had never been so grateful to have someone like him by your side, protecting you and you him.

[coollizzylou]

Everyone’s correct in saying that now more than ever we need to be building our communities, but it can be difficult to know what that actually *means*, especially in our isolating society. So here’s some straightforward practical advice I’ve learned over the few years I’ve been organizing in my own life.

You do not have to reinvent the wheel.

There are people who have been fighting this fight for decades. You are not starting from scratch. You do not have to do it all by yourself. All you have to do is find your allies and engage.

On the ground resistance movements/aid organizations that have legs under them may not have much of a social media presence. You may have to do some legwork find your place.

Check the local papers if you have one for your area. Sign up for your city government newsletter. Go to the library and ask what events are being hosted. Check Churches! Schools! Small businesses! Ask your local old ladies!!!! They have time on their hands and know what’s going on in their communities.

It’s ok if you don’t know anything. Listen to the people around you, ask questions, be respectful and curious. Just show up!! As you do this, you will learn more about the place you’re in and the people that live there. Those people will guide you, and there’s a non-zero chance that you’ll find a mentor willing to take you under their wing.

The logistics make the movement.

Demonstrations are important and powerful, but they are NOT the be all end all. Not even close.

There are people who’s job it is to take notes, people who host meetings, and people who pick up snacks. Some folks are especially good at getting the word out through tabling and canvasing, others are better at making the pamphlets that get handed out. You could be in charge of carrying heavy boxes of donated food, or you might be better suited preparing a hot meal sitting at the table. Are you able to watch young children? Drive carpool?

All of these tasks and more are essential to maintaining a healthy community group. Don’t be afraid to try new things and experiment to figure out where you can do the most good.

Your stories are your power

One of the most effective tools in your arsenal are your testimonies. When shared with friends they remind us we are not alone in our struggles. When shared with adversaries, they are undeniable proof of our humanity. You can quote facts and statistics all day, but a personal experience will always punch above it’s weight.

Think over your life and explore questions of what your personal stake in the game is. What about your life makes you want to fight. Really dig in deep. This can be uncomfortable. I recommend doing this among friends and being gentle with yourself. You don’t have to have any particularly special reason. This isn’t supposed to be performative. You aren’t trying to get a good grade in leftism, your goal is to identify your self interest. For example, I first got involved with the tenet union because I wanted to go to college in the city but knew I couldn’t afford to live there. I first got involved with planned parenthood because I was scared when Roe v Wade overturned. These are selfish reasons, they have to be for this to work.

With that information, you are prepared to sit with other people and ask them the same thing. If you are open and willing to listen to people’s stories, a casual conversation can lead to strong bonds of friendship. And when you’re friends with someone, you fight for them. This is the core of relational organizing.

There is joy here

Organizing can be difficult. Many things are in life. But from personal experience I can tell you that not only is this work worth it, but it can be *fun*. You can sing and dance and play music and scream and laugh and you’ll do it all together. Hold onto your hope, find your joy where you can, and take the plunge. You’ll be better for it, I promise.

[antifainternational]

Kirkcaldy reportback!

On Saturday the 18th of May 2024 a group of antifascist members of the community disrupted an event organised by Women Won't Wheesht in Kirkcaldy.

These people were workers, locals and members of the public. They were transgender, cisgender, gay and straight. They were unaffiliated with any organisation, group or political party. Their actions were their own and were organised on their own initiative. They acted to protect their community from an intolerant group who aim to plant a seed of cruelty, a seed of hate that would grow and overshadow everything around it, which would poison the earth and kill off wildflower and bramble and thistle alike.

"A community is made up of many different types of people," one member of the group said, "and what makes a community strong is celebrating the diversity of its members and standing in solidarity with those who need it most. Trans people are one of the most marginalised groups of people in society, and yet groups like Women Won't Wheesht seek to sow division in our local communities by painting trans people as a danger. Trans people are part of the fabric of our communities and groups like Women Won't Wheesht have no place in inclusive and safe communities. We all need to stand up against hate speech and protect our neighbours and friends."

Women Won't Wheesht is a hate group which peddles anti-transgender bigotry. Their events, veiled under vague 'concerns about women' have historically been attended by anti-abortion anti-feminist groups such as the Scottish Family Party, homophobes such as the Destiny Church, and members of the fascist Scottish Defence League. Their members also attended rallies organised by the neo-nazi Kelly Jay Keen.

Women Won't Wheesht's rhetoric calls for the elimination of drag queens, transgender and nonbinary people from public life. It is the same rhetoric which was used to murder members of the gay community during the AIDS epidemic. It advocates both social murder (murder by inaction from the state) and violence against transgender people. To achieve this, they bully and harass transgender people in society and online. They publicly share people's addresses and names. They accuse all transgender people of being sexual predators, thereby toxifying and dehumanising them so they are seen as less-than-human. They lobby politicians to spread their hate and appear legitimate.

The anti-transgender reactionary movement in the UK has been called explicitly genocidal by the Lemkin Institute for Genocide Prevention.

We, as proud members of our community, denounce all genocides and any who participate in them. We stand for a world where everyone has the right to speak their mind, where everyone has the right to be who they are. We stand for a world where gay, straight, brown, white, man, woman, and everything in between can live and love together. We cannot stand by and allow Women Won't Wheesht platform to spread hate and cruelty. We are fighting for a kinder, more caring world.

If the members of Women Won't Wheesht reach out to their local queer community, if they choose to talk, and listen, and learn, if they come with humility and gentleness, they will be greeted and welcomed with kindness and respect. We understand that many of those who come to join these movements have done so under a deception. They have been told that their alienation is not due to the United Kingdom's misogynist society and the social murder and violence of neoliberal capitalism, but due to transgender people existing. Many of us have been caught and deceived by such lies too. We have learned, and we have grown.

But if Women Won't Wheesht continue their campaign of violence, they will meet resistance. Their platform will be taken away, because it is by the grace of the people of Scotland that they have it in the first place, and the people of Scotland will not allow genocide of any kind.

At the action on Saturday, members of the public were overwhelmingly in support of transgender liberation.

One organiser said "People of all ages stopped to speak to the outreach team and expressed disgust at the transphobia from the Women Won't Wheesht incomers." Over one hundred trans flags were distributed to supportive people of Kirkaldy.

SOLIDARITY. LOVE AND KINDNESS.

ANTI-FASCISTS OF SCOTLAND.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Silver Tongues, like Bullets

Chapter 4

Werewolf!141 x Female Reader

Safe to say you aren't adjusting well to being kidnapped. With your anger at a all time high, names are being called and things are being thrown. Patience is running thin with the men, what lengths would they go to to set you straight?

Warnings: MDNI, violation of privacy, gay sex, cock stroking, masturbation, unconsentual nude viewing, dark themes, manipulation, forced proximity, reader comes from a religious household, childhood trauma, abusive parents, talks of self harm, description of self harm, violent behaviour from you, shouting, crying, name calling, mental breakdown, non-con touching, threats of punishment, You get spanked once in this chapter, sorry if I missed any.

Silver Tongues Like Bullets Masterlist

Words: 7k

-28/11/2023

There were vile people in the world. Simon knew that. His pack knew that. You probably knew that. It was an obvious fact many people tended to ignore for their own convenience.

He witnessed that violence first hand as a boy and then again as a soldier. There were people in this world who'd exploit anyone for their own selfish gain. God awful people who'd do it to their own children. People who didn't deserve to have children in the first place. People like your parents.

He's heard you mumbling in your sleep at the cabin and a couple times here when you managed to fall asleep. It was often the same sentences repeated over and over again. ‘Need to get them out’ ‘are they safe?’ ‘my poor babies’. Your ‘babies’ here probably refer to your siblings if Ghost isn't mistaken. He couldn't find any evidence of you having children of your own. But seeing as it was you managing the majority of the childcare at home spoke volumes as to how you're treated by your parents. You had a lot of responsibilities starting from grocery shopping and food management down to school meetings and pickups. God knows what your parents did while you did their job for them. Unfortunately for Ghost he did know.

Ghost didn't consider himself a good person not by a long shot but looking at the information he pulled on your parents had his sanity slipping. He'd have strangled them both if he was given the chance.

But a digital trail of incriminating evidence would have to do. The worst punishment for a narcissist is exposing their lies and damaging their reputation. Digital trails can be quite damning if put in the wrong hands. Good thing they found their way to him. This would scratch his inch for blood. All he had to do was press send and their lives would come crumbling down. And that's exactly what he did. This would definitely help move the investigation about you along. The town already thought you committed suicide because of your parents. This story was a scandal within itself. Especially since your parents were aid workers employed by the church.

He did feel bad about your younger siblings though. Poor souls were sent to live with a relative for the time being. God knows what they're feeling right now being put in this difficult situation.

Your aunt seemed like a decent woman though, strangely enough you resemble her more than you do your mother and father. Gaz using his connections in the police force made sure she was someone that would keep the kids safe. She'd treat your brothers and sister better than your parents ever did. At least something good came out of this whole incident.

Ghost glances at his watch, it was late. He should be in bed with the rest of his pack and the newest addition to this family of his. It was a shame Gaz and Soap had already called dibs on the floor beside you. Not that you wanted them there.

You're much feistier than any of them anticipated. They couldn't really tell at the cabin because of how often they had to drug you. But Ghost quite enjoyed teasing you. Especially when you bit back at his remarks. It stirred a playful attitude in him that he hadn't experienced in a while. Not to say Johnny and Gaz weren't playful, but it was a boyish kind of playfulness with them.

This was different. He knew you were harmless which made it all the more fun when you tried fighting. It was a losing battle from the start yet you continued your struggle. It was endearing in the sort of way when a bunny runs amuck. He’ll enjoy making you all sweet and pliant in his hands. But that was a problem for another day. For now he'd enjoy the little moments he has with you. If you'd let him that is.

-30/11/2023

The situation was escalating. You absolutely wouldn't let anyone near you. Even when they were very sweet and understanding towards your drastic changes in moods. This wasn't what they had envisioned when they took you. That was weighing hard on the boys, especially when you wouldn't eat or drink. They were growing concerned about your wellbeing. Today was no different. Each meal time they tried making something you'd enjoy based on the pictures you posted on your Instagram. But you were adamant with your choice to ignore them.

Food was running low and they needed to go shopping before they left for their deployment. While they were at it they also wanted to buy you winter clothes and essentials for your room. You were probably sick of wearing their sweatpants and t-shirts anyways. They hoped this would warm you up to them even if it was only a little bit. It was decided Gaz and Soap would keep an eye on you until Price and Ghost got back.

Price gave strict instructions to Gaz and Soap before leaving. They were told to keep you calm above anything else and no funny business, that comment was aimed at Soap specifically. Ghost and Price didn't want to leave when you were so unstable but things needed to get done.

It wasn't too hard finding what you needed considering they got their hands on your online purchase history. Excluding all the stuff you regularly bought for your siblings you didn't have much in terms of essential items that you used daily. It was all cheap stuff so the two men decided it would be nice to get you better quality clothing, skincare, shampoo and anything else they thought you'd like. Price had to text Gaz for that though. Gaz knew best out of all of them of what products to buy especially for hair.

The most indulgent thing you bought for yourself was your camera. And even that was bought secondhand. They felt guilty that it was partially their fault that it got ruined in the lake. But they swore to make it up to you. For now they focused on making your living space more comfortable. Maybe that would get you to eat. With all the groceries packed and a pretty bouquet of flowers in Ghost's hand they decided to go home to make a nice dinner for you.

Unfortunately for them in the short time they were gone, Soap had managed to upset you again. Upset you quite badly at that too. When they had gotten back with their hands full of blankets, bedsheets and clothing they were greeted with a messy living room with things thrown everywhere.

And to make it worse you were crying huddled in a corner. They didn't even have time to get the groceries in before Price let out an audible sigh. They were barely gone for two hours this time. What could possibly have happened in such a short amount of time to make you cry like that? Gaz was trying to soothe you but you cried harder when he tried coming closer.

Soap was looking both upset and guilty sitting on the sofa quite a distance away from you. He was covered in new scratch marks, which in itself gave enough of an indication as to what might have happened. That man really couldn't keep his hands to himself even if he tried. But Price couldn't really blame him. Physical touch was his love language. It's the way he showed his affection for everyone. Which could often be mistaken for him being horny. When in reality he just liked the closeness physical touch brought. Though Soap is horny a lot of the time too.

He wanted to fuck Ghost the first week of meeting him and meeting Gaz wasn't much different. He's an insatiable wolf. They all knew that before forming this pack. But you were fairly new to all this so it wasn't fair for him to pounce on you so quickly. You needed time to adjust to the situation. He'll have to have a talk with Soap tonight after dinner.

“What happened?” Price hands over his bags to Simon.

“I was just trying to relax with her,” Soap muttered. Simon, taking the hint, takes a grumbling Soap with him after he's done sulking. They both leave to go get the groceries out and start on dinner.

“Soap wanted to take a bath with her,” Price approached carefully while listening to Gaz explain the situation.

“Want some privacy luv?” you sniffled to yourself as you looked at them extremely annoyed but nodded your head eventually. Seems like you were still holding a grudge. But you'll come around he knows it. Maybe they should let you get your anger out of your system so they can move past this.

“You can take a bath alone luv, just leave the door unlocked ok? We got you new pajamas, cute ones with strawberries on them.” You stare at them for a while before a soft ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth when Price hands you a bag with all your bathroom necessities.

The rest of the day was spent with you sitting in a corner mumbling to yourself and refusing to eat for yet another day even after they gave you the flowers and made you your favourite dinner. Though your lack of appetite was concerning. He knew you snuck sealed packaged food at night. You just wouldn't eat anything cooked by them. He supposes that it's their fault for drugging you. They'll have to build the trust back up slowly.

Price was growing concerned about when they'll have to leave you alone in the house. He was growing afraid you'd do something to hurt yourself. They were due to leave the coming Monday. But it wasn't like he could push back the deployment any further. They had finally got information on the shadow company and Graves. They weren't going to let that rat slip away again.

But they also had a responsibility to keep you safe. Maybe it would be better to take you with them for the time being. You could stay on base while they figure things out. It would also give you a chance to bond with them. Not that you showed any interest to do so.

Price wishes you'd take more of an interest in them. You just accepted their confession on being werewolves, not a single question was asked in that regard. There aren't many people they would share that information with so they were expecting more of a reaction from you. But they didn't get much of one. Apart from you promising to keep their secret if they let you go.

But then again Simon found your old Whittpad? Wattpad? (Was that how you say it?) history. Apparently it was some app to read stories on and you read your fair share of supernatural romances from what Simon had told him. He did reprimand Simon for digging into personal information about you. Price knows you wouldn't be happy if you knew they knew of your reading habits. Not that they'd judge you for it. Everyone has needs. If that was your preferred method of meeting them, it was none of their business. He did wonder if you learned any silly myths about them through those novels.

Overall the day wasn't the worst they experienced with you. You were clean, dressed nicely and got to use some of the stuff they bought you. Things only escalated when Soap tried apologising to you before bed but you didn't want to let him near you. Some not so nice things were said on your part. And you did end up throwing a few cushions at him to get him to leave.

But at least you looked refreshed dressed in your new pajamas and he knew you'd probably try to find something to eat when they'd ‘fall’ asleep. They'd have to enjoy the small victories for now. This was going to be a difficult journey but Price was a patient man. He knows you'll come around eventually. They just needed to give you time to adjust.

-nearing midnight

The laptop screen finally loaded up. It wasn't for the reason Ghost usually used it for. He needed to see those images of you again. You were strung up today especially after that incident with Soap in the afternoon. More things were thrown and some mean things were said. So Price thought it'd be best to let you sleep alone in the living room since all the doors were securely locked anyway, you weren't going to escape even if you tried.

But Ghost thought Price was being too lax with your increasingly violent behavior. They should nip this in the bud before you seriously injure yourself or someone else. But for now he'll follow the orders he's given. Which means no excessive snooping or going near you for any reason other than necessity.

Despite the violent outburst they were all looking forward to showing you your room tomorrow, just the bars on your window needed to be installed. You'd also get your own ensuite which would give you the added privacy you probably needed. Soap was getting a little impatient but so was he. He just wanted you curled up in arms already but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

There was something bothering Ghost though. His suspicion started at the cabin when he had to undress you. Obviously there was so much going on that it was hard to focus solely on his suspicions but he was sure of what he saw. Your calves were littered with faded scars, he's sure the boys must have got at least a small glimpse of them already. No one has brought it up though. They could very much be old self harm scars. It was a very common occurrence with children in abusive households. He has plenty of his own. Thank god yours looked a couple years old. There weren't any new marks on you apart from a couple bruises you sustained in the forest.

As Ghost goes through your pictures again he realises why you wear stockings in all your pictures. You're never smiling either. There's not a single picture of you smiling. Not on your SD card or on your Instagram. He doesn't think he's seen you smile properly at the cabin either but that was a difficult situation and you were also sick. So that was understandable. He does want to make your life easier here, he wants to make you smile, make you feel loved but you were making things much more difficult than they needed to be.

As he goes through the picture lands on his favourite one. It wasn't one of the exposed pictures of you. You were just holding some wild flowers close to your face. You aren't smiling in it per se but there is a serene expression on your face. You looked the happiest he's ever seen you. Though he's only known you a little over a week but he wanted to make you feel safe. He did have a lapse in judgment at the cabin. His lust and anger spoke for him then. But he wanted to be better for you. He wanted to do better by you. He checks the date of when the picture was taken. And goes to check its correlation to your calendar.

(20/11/23 - 9:00-10:00pm waiting for callback from the London agency)

It was the date you received your job offer in London. His heart felt a little heavy, he felt guilty they took that from you but he had ampled doubt that you'd be able to escape your parents hold even if you did move to London. They'd still expect you to send money back home even if it meant you had to live in extreme conditions to survive in London. That was no life, you deserved better than that. They'll figure out a way for you to keep doing photography. But you needed to learn to trust them first and be a little less violent.

Ghost's door opens just as he's about to close his laptop.

“Ah’ve had enough! Ah made her ah sandwich but she didn't even touch it. Just stared at meh angrily until ah left! How am ah supposed tae be swee-” Johnny stops mid rant, his eyes zeroing in on the image on the laptop. Johnny stares at the screen until the realisation hits him that the pictures were of you.

“Ye greedy bastard! Ye could have told us that ye had them! Ah wouldn't have wasted meh time trying to imagine her naked.” Johnny in a huff just deposits himself in Ghost's lap clearly annoyed at the man for keeping your images to himself. Without asking for permission he quickly finds the picture he's looking for. Ghost wasn't surprised the picture he landed on. Soap was a simple minded man most days. He supposes it's time he makes it up to him, for keeping the pictures to himself.

“It's nae fair if yer the only one having fun! I'm telling Price about this in the morning.” Soap huffs pushing down his grey sweatpants and fishing out his hardening cock.

“Let me make it up to you pup. But you shouldn't treat her so roughly, she isn't like us. She needs time to warm up. Be patient with her.” Ghost lets out an apologetic purr as he nuzzles his nose into Johnny's neck, making sure to leave wet kisses behind as his hands take over Soap's movements on his cock.

“Ah'm nae forgiving ye that easily” Soap throws his head back feeling Ghost fist his cock with more vigor while his eyes stay glued to images of your naked flesh. This is the least he could do for him.

The rest of the night it spent with Johnny on his back begging (quite loudly) for more. He was insatiable with his rut probably approaching. Which was dangerous in this situation. You certainly weren't ready to have sex with all of them. When one of them goes into a rut they all follow pretty quickly. Ghost doesn't falter in his movements as he plows into Soap's stretched hole. Waiting for his knot to catch on Soap's spasming muscles. He thought about covering his hand over Soaps mouth but he desperately wanted you to hear what you were missing out on, on what could be yours if you allowed them to take care of you.

If the spanking was anything to go by it seemed you liked a little rough treatment. But you were still inexperienced so they needed to go slow with you. Kinks and safe words could always be figured out later. It's not long after Ghost's keen ears pick up on the moans of Gaz followed by grunts from Price and the slapping of skin. Seemed like everyone was pent up today. You probably wouldn't get any sleep with the noise they were making.

-01/11/2023

It's been four days, four days of you trapped in this hell, four days of you escaping their wandering hands, four days for you refusing to drink or eat in their presence. Last night being the worst of it all. They had finally let you sleep by yourself in the living room. But the whole night was filled with the noise of slapping skin and lewd grunts and wanton moans.

You bet they did it on purpose too. Your face felt hot remembering how slick and uncomfortable your aching pussy felt the whole night, especially when you had no outlet to relieve yourself. With their stupidly keen sense of smell and heightened hearing they'd know for a fact if you had touched yourself to the sounds of them fucking. It felt like you were trapped in a nightmare with no way out. You just wanted to be rescued already. Please God someone must be looking for you…please anyone…you needed to get home…for them if not yourself…

Your head was pounding, on the verse of bursting from the lack of nutrition and sleep. Your nerves are vibrating with fear, keeping you on your toes. You knew a chase was coming. They had just finished whatever they were doing in that spare room of theirs. The insistent clatter of tools and nails had finally ceased but now you were faced with an entirely new dilemma. A dilemma that involved four men cornering you.

‘Come look at your room’ they said, as if you didn't know that was code for ‘get in your cage’. You weren't stupid despite having ended up in this horrible situation. You knew you wouldn't see the light of day if they managed to get you in there.

Your forever prison. If and only if they get you in there. You didn't plan on entering another type of hell just after trying to escape the last.

“Darling! Please listen! Ow! Sto- Darling!” armed with another padded cushion you don't stop to listen to their stupid excuses as you yet again hurl the non lethal object at the person closest to you. That being Gaz.

We aren't trying to hurt you!”, safe to say you don't listen again as you circle the sofa for the umpt time in the last two minutes.

“Don't come near me! I don't want to look at the room!”

You've been tightroping on a knife's edge for the last four days, making sure they don't get their hands on you for any reason! You weren't going to let all your hard work go to waste! If you were honest it felt so much longer than four days. Hours felt like days when you're trapped in a cage, even if it was a golden one. Time goes so slowly when you have nothing to but wait to be rescued. You watch them circle around you like prey while you try to find any sliver of an opening to escape.

“Look, we know this situation isn't ideal but we promise it isn't forever. You can decorate it however you like later,” Were they purposely acting obtuse? You watch Price put his hands up in surrender. Trying his best to look non threatening while Ghost moves to watch everything unfold from the comfort of the far wall. Stupid prick… You hated the bastard. He's the reason you had to endure such a humiliating punishment.

You don't trust their pretty words, you've already made that mistake once. Well more than once but you get the idea. You weren't going to fall for it again. That you promised yourself.

Price stays back while the younger two of the four men decide to close in on you. They look at you with apprehension and pity. A sentiment you didn't appreciate. You wouldn't even be in the situation if it weren't for them. This entire situation was of their own making. They had no right to be angry with you. Not one bit, but it wasn't like that would stop them from trying to ‘punish’ you. Thankfully they've been busy sorting things out to do anything even with you getting increasingly more violent.

Gaz gives Soap a look and you know what's about to happen, you can tell they were about to pounce. You feel your nerves fraying with anxiety so with your weight pressed against your heels you ready yourself to run. They try creeping closer but the second they decide to take a definitive step you bolt.

“Darling that's enough! You need to stop fighting us!”, Price shouts as you swerve at the last second narrowly escaping the two men when they crowd you. You make a break for the kitchen not listening to their shouts as you evade their calloused hands. Thankfully you manage to get to the other side of the breakfast counter before either Gaz or Soap could reach you. Out of reflex you grab the nearest makeshift weapon at your disposal. That being a very expensive looking vase with the flowers they gifted you yesterday. The very first you ever received and you couldn't even appreciate them because they were given to you by your kidnappers. They both stand on the other side looking less than impressed by your choice of weapon.

“Sweetheart we just want to show you your room, that's all,” you hiss and bare your teeth at Gaz earning you an aspirated sigh from him.

“Don't come near! I-I'll hit you!”, your voice breaks which in turn pisses you off more. Strength! Embody Strength! You shout at yourself internally to steel your nerves. You needed more conviction in your tone to inspire fear. Even if it was only a little bit.

It's a stalemate. They looked annoyed, but more exhausted than anything else. Of course they'd be tired. They were getting fucked the whole night while you suffered….

You know you were making things worse for yourself but you didn't want to be locked in that room. Your chances of escaping would plummet. You just needed to hold out a little longer, just a little longer. Someone must be searching for you. Your friends, your family, at least one person would have reported you missing by now. They must have…you needed to get home…

You watch them with laboured breaths, waiting for them to spring at you again. Waiting for an excuse to get violent and get your built up frustrations out. Price pinches his nose in annoyance before giving up and going to sit on the sofa with Ghost following closely behind. It's only Gaz and Soap cornering you now.

“We promise ye’ll like yer room hen, we even got ye ah fluffy blanket and some plushies. Please stop being difficult. We just want tae take care ye.”

“Fuck off, I don't care! You? y-you?” You have to think for a second for an insult that would hurt them, that would make them dislike you. Maybe then they'd let you go.

“ Y-you?… you Dogs!” You instantly regret the words leaving your mouth kinda grateful you didn't end up calling them mutts. Gaz flinches at your raised voice, or more so at the word ‘Dogs’. Guilt floods your heart the second you see their hurt expression, an apology spills out of your mouth before your anger could block out your guilt.

“I'm sorry that was rude of me…but don't come near.” You look at them wearily, you didn't mean to be derogatory towards their biology. Not that you understood it but you didn't need to be rude about it. Their eyes soften at your apology but you still see the flash of hurt cross their eyes.

“I just want to go home, I promise I won't tell anyone about your secret. Please…please won't you let me go? I have people I need to take care of.” You brandish the vase with shaky hands because they were still on the offensive so you keep your guard up.

“We took you for your own good love. You weren't being treated well at home. We'll give you a better life here. You just need to allow us to.” You’re filled with disappointment at Gaz's words. You feel the ever familiar sting of tears tightening your waterline but you stay strong. No, don't cry! Don't show weakness!

“Hah? A better life? A better life? You must fucking kidding if you think I'd believe that!” You scoff at his ridiculous suggestion. You watch Soap try to approach again only for you to step back vase still in hand.

With your tears pushed down your building anger was rearing its ugly head again. It was boiling your blood to the point where you wanted to scald everything surface near you, you wanted to make everyone feel your pain. After years of working hard to appease your parents, trying to get them to see reason, saving money to escape the cage they put you in. You found yourself in yet another cage. The worst part was you only had two weeks until you left. Just two weeks…

Yet you found yourself locked in again, bound to a fixed location at the mercy of four strangers. This time the bars enclosing your freedom were tinted gold, but they were bars nonetheless. You were slowly losing any form of identity you built for yourself. Any form of escape you manifested was crumbling to the ground, much like an like your sanity. Fear was settling in, you felt it in your bones. The rattling was unsettling, this whole situation was. Why you? Why did it have to be you?

And to top it all off they were supernatural beings. You're more shocked how easily you accepted that fact than you are about them actually being werewolves. You attribute that to all the werewolf wattpad stories you read as a teen…. You had so many questions you wanted answered but you didn't want to ask them just in case they take it as your acceptance to being theirs.

“We'll give ye such ah great life here. Ye’ll want for nothing. We'll buy ye whatever ye want, whatever clothes, whatever makeup, whatever food. We'll even buy ye ah new camera. Ye can take as many naughty pictures as ye like.” You freeze at his words, blood running colder than rivers in the arctic. Shock marred your features as you tried to understand what you were hearing. Gaz clocked it first that Soap had just made a huge mistake. And Soap looked at you with guilt the second he saw your distraught face. They fumble with their apologies but you can't seem to hear. Cold blood rushing to your ears blocks out any sound from reaching you.

They saw…They looked through your camera….they saw you naked. They violated your privacy….

Before you were willing to forgive them for what they did at the cabin, namely because you thought they were helping you when you were sick. But they just needed a convenient excuse to get you naked didn't they? Fucking Perverts!

Feeling anger was an understatement, you were feeling down right ravenous for blood, for destruction. How fucking dare they!

“I WANT TO GO HOME! NOW! RIGHT NOW! I DON'T LIKE YOU! I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE! LET ME GO YOU FUCKING PRICKS!” You scream your built up aggravation out at them. You flinch at your own anger. You've never had the guts to voice your anger out like this. The most you've ever done is slightly raise your voice which often ended up with you being backhanded by your dad. You've learnt to either stay silent or placate him with money. Money always seemed to work to calm him down. Money wasn't going to help you here.

It was different here. The one punishment they inflicted made you feel buzzed and tingling in all the sting places. And they haven't gotten maliciously violent with you yet. No matter how angry you'd get with them, they wouldn't threaten to harm you. Any aggression they faced at your hands was often met with patience and coos to soothe you as if you were a skittish bunny. That didn't excuse them of being perverts though. Especially Soap for that matter. That man had a problem keeping his hands to himself.

If the cooing didn't work they'd just let you tire yourself out. It often felt like you were talking to a brick wall when they'd get like this. If your screaming bothered them they didn't let it show, only looks of pity crossed either of their faces. Which only served to aggravate you even more. Gaz tries to take a step closer but you just take another set back continuing to let your frustrations out as tears prickle your already bloodshot eyes.

“DON'T COME NEAR ME! I'll hit you! D-don’t...*sob*..come near..*cries*,” a wave of fatigue washes over you while you raise the vase as a warning. Everything you knew was crumbling around you. You felt sick to your stomach despite not having eaten properly in days.

“Can ye pick ah different vase? Me nan gave meh that…”

You're stunned into silence for a second, your tears also drying up. You’re discombobulated at his words, your mind racing to understand what he just said. Guilt sits heavy on your chest as the words unjumble in your head. Your arms immediately lower as an apology leaves your mouth far too easily for your liking.

“Oh..*sniffle* I'm so sor- wait…why the fuck should I care!?"

Right!? Why should you care? You should be angry, you should be breaking things.

But despite you trying to school yourself on maintaining a front, your grip becomes shaky and you're forced to return the vase to its original place. You glare at the two men angrily having put the vase down despite wanting to smash. No matter how bad you wanted to hurt them, this just seemed excessively cruel.

“Thanks for putting down the vase hen. Come on now mah sweet girl, promise ye’ll love yer room.” You stare at him incredulously, more accurately at his audacity.

Tears blur your vision again as you curse your frustrations out at them for the hundredth time today.

“This is your fault! I'm like this because of you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you…” You close your eyes for a split second to clear the falling tears, unfortunately for you that's when both of them take the opportunity to block your escape from either side. You can't do much other than struggle with your limited energy. You haven't been eating out of spite for the last few days. And running around definitely didn't help your situation. Everyone was on edge and your tantrums weren't helping.

Soap wraps his bulky arms around you as gently as he could while whispering his insincere apologies to you. You shout at him not to touch you, to get his ‘filthy hands’ off you. All you were doing was wasting your breath though. Which just serves to aggravate you more. You're upset, you're angry and down right exhausted. You just wanted to go home. The cage at home was better than here. At least you were close to escaping that one.

Soap hoists you up in his arms carrying you towards the living room while Gaz trails behind looking upset and guilty. It seems everyone was at their wits end today. And the boys were due to be deployed this coming Monday, you heard them say as much. Why couldn't they just leave already. You didn't want to be near these perverts.

Once you come into Price's view he ushers Soap to deposit you in his lap while Ghost fiddles with the TV channels. The fight has left you now, you're just limp in Soap's arms while you silently cry out your muddled emotions. Soap gently deposits you on Price's lap and immediately your face is pushed to his neck where you cry harder.

“Our pretty Bunny, it's ok, just cry it out.” Nothing was ok, you weren't ok! You weren't safe from their touches.

“I know. I know. It's ok baby, let us take care of you.” You huff out in anger trying to escape his hold but you just don't have the energy to fight them anymore. So your face remains pushed to the crook of his neck while you're forced to inhale the smell of his aftershave. The worst part was that the scent was soothing your frayed nerves. You inhale the smell of the forest and something slightly fruity and sweet. Strawberry….When did he eat strawberries? You wanted some… You weren't going to tell him that though. Your stomach grumbling does that for you. Traitor…

“Everything we've done we've done for your betterment. I know you're hurt now but you'll understand eventually. Just let us love you darlin. Promise we'll take such good care of you.” You stay silent not knowing how to respond to their bullshit. You'll just have to figure out a way to escape once they leave.

“What is it luvvie? Why are you so pent up today? Do y’need some help making yourself cum? We can smell y’slick cunt since last night.” Ghost coos at you while trying to find a channel to watch on the TV. Your blood boils at his words, your anger that's been simmering erupted like a volcano.

“As if I'd let you monsters touch me! Delete my pictures you fucking perverts!” The simmering violence in you burst out unexpectedly as you grab the spare remote near you to hurl it at his head, hitting him pretty hard.

“Fuc- Ow!” Ghost clutches his covered head. You feel bad immediately after you realise what you've done. You don't even get a chance to apologise before Price is restraining your arms while everyone tuts at your actions. You watch as Gaz goes to check-in on Ghost, they remove his mask away from your sight. Probably checking for any serious injuries.

You hear Price sigh heavily beside you when everything seems fine with Ghost. So you're assuming he wasn't too badly hurt, probably just a little stunned you actually tried hurting him. Before you can try to escape and run you feel an iron grip on your arms halting you. It was just shy of bruising so when you tried to push away from him you weren't expecting him to growl so inhumanly at you, or with so much anger. He seemed pissed, very pissed. Maybe you should apologise but you were too scared to do anything other than try to escape.

“Ghost was right. We can't have you getting violent like this. I think it's about time we teach you a lesson luv. This behaviour has gone on too long.” His voice was deceptively calm, while you only heard grunts of approval from the other men. Your emotions were all over the place on one hand you felt bad for hitting Ghost on the other you wanted to escape by any means, even if that meant you hurting them. You still can't believe they’ve seen your pictures. The humiliation just doesn't stop, does it?

Price had you bent over his knee before you could realise what was happening. You're made aware of the power imbalance from the get go. There was no way you'd escape his hold. If you weren't going to be able to hurt them physically while you struggle, you think perhaps you could use your words instead. The first flurry of curses leaves your mouth as wrists are captured and pinned to the small of your back.

“I hate you! You stupid assholes! Perverts! You don't care about me! Let me go!” You repeat the same sentences over and over and over again. Until your own ears felt like they were bleeding.

“Don't make things harder for yourself sweetheart. I think we've been too soft on you if you're acting like this.” This whole time you felt Price's large hand caressing your back down to your ass cheeks. Giving the plush of your bottom a mean pinch before landing a hard slap over your pajama bottoms. You bite down a groan as the sting travels down to your already drenched cunt. No doubt they know you've been soaked since last night.

“What do you think Simon? How do you want to punish her?

Ghost comes into view, mask still on. Only his obsidian eyes were on display. They looked eerily devoid of emotions. You expected him to be more angry than he looked but then again looks are often deceiving. Soap moves out of his way as he crouches to be level with your face. His glove covered hands come up to wipe away the tears staining your face. He was surprisingly gentle when caressing you.

“That throw was personal wasn't it luv? I'll be nice and forgive you if you apologise.” You shake your head to the best of your ability only to be rewarded with a chuckle. You just glare at him seeing that he found the situation funny.

“How about this? You have a nice big dinner with us and you don't have to get a spanking. But you have to finish your food. Doesn't that sound nice?” You glare not wanting to give the satisfaction of doing what they say. Or getting potentially drugged again. Even though you were extremely hungry. Your stomach being the treacherous bitch she is decides this is the moment she wants attention on her and growls for everyone to hear. Gaz and Soap just watched you with sympathy and you hated that even more. You didn't need their pity. You didn't want their care or affection. You just wanted to go home.

“Oh you poor thing, you shouldn't be so cruel to yourself. Come on… all you have to do is have some dinner. It's either that or Price here spanks you so hard you'd be unable to walk without wincing in pain.” You hate that he was making a reasonable offer. It just pissed you off more that they got to pick and choose when they wanted to be cooperative with you.

“So what do you say? Y'want to be good for us?” You glare but don't answer straight away knowing you'd probably get yourself into more trouble. You weigh the options out. Your fear and anger waging a war in your head as you do so. In the end your anger wins. You weren't going to submit to their whims; it was the only thing you could control right now. And you needed the sense of control more than you needed food.

“Fuck you! I want my pictures deleted, you asshole!” That sentence sealed your faith for the night.

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