#take care and you always have my blessing

[always-just-red]

008 with Xavier for Christmas prompts? 🥰

Whoaaaa this was actually my first ever solo request for Xavier? So thank you!!! Hope you've enjoyed the holidays, anon! 🥰

Xavier x Reader ⭐🎄☃️❄️

Prompt #008: lifting up a smaller frame to put on the finishing touch on the christmas tree: the tree topper ( a star, an angel, or something else! )

“Please be careful.”

You feel a gentle pair of hands at your waist as you balance on a stool, up on the tiptoes of one foot. You’re reaching, reaching… but you can’t quite get this stupid star on the tree, and Xavier thinks he’s helping, but he’s not. He’s an anchor, keeping you from achieving maximum reach. You just need to get a liiiiiitle further.

“It’s okay, Xavi, I got it. Sheesh, where’s this concern when I’m tackling Wanderers, huh?”

“I’m always concerned when you’re tackling Wanderers,” he frowns behind you— you can hear it. “Although, in a healthy, supportive way. Not a paranoid, lack-of-faith-in-you way.”

You chuckle to yourself. Stop reaching. “This feels like a lack of faith,” you say, patting his hands.

“Well, it’s healthy support.”

“Okay, okay. Can I get a healthy, supportive boost, please?”

He adjusts: moving closer to you, letting his hands circle lower. After a short countdown, he lifts you. There’s no huff of exertion. No tension. Show off. You still have to reach a little, but you manage to plonk the star on top of the tree.

“Happy?” Xavier asks, and there’s no strain in his voice, either.

“Happy. You may release me.”

With his own, quiet chuckle, Xavier sets you down beside the stool. You sigh and brush your hands together like you’ve just accomplished something difficult. It takes all of your Wanderer-tackling strength and poise to not giggle as you glance up at the tree topper.

Xavier looks up at it too. “Wait.” He narrows his eyes: inspection, not suspicion. “Is that�� me?”

You couldn’t believe your luck when you found that star the other day, when you were out Christmas shopping with Tara. It’s pretty, shiny and golden— as all stars ought to be— but it’s also a photo frame. Maybe for pets? They’d used a picture of a cat on the box it came in, but you had a much, much better idea.

“Yeah…” you confirm. “I was tied, you know? Did I want an angel on top of the tree? Did I want a star? Then I thought—” you stretch, catching Xavier’s face in your hands— “why settle for one? Why not have both?”

His cheeks are being squished by your palms, but his eyes dart back to the tree topper. “Aww,” he says after a moment. “That’s cute.”

“You’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His mouth is still pinched, and his voice? A mumble.

You let him go so you can gaze at the photo on top of the tree.

It’s not a flattering picture. You never thought you’d be able to say that, but you worked hard for it, so you can— it is not a flattering picture! It took you about a hundred ambushes with a camera. About a thousand, failed, flattering photos. His face stuns at literally every angle, and damn it, you now have proof! He’s blessed by gods you didn’t even know existed. He’s impossible. Insufferable.

But then you got that one photo.

… In Akso, when he was maybe sort of kinda unconscious, even bleeding a little, but it’s fine! He was fine, wasn’t he? One flash of your phone, one scathing look from dear Doctor Zayne, and you got it:

The one photo of Xavier where he doesn’t look like a model. At least… not for anything anyone would want.

“It’s… not the best picture,” you answer finally. You don’t know what else to say; you thought your masterpiece would speak for itself.

“I don’t know,” he muses. “I think I look handsome. Why? Don’t you?”

Blue eyes turn on you, wide like the baubles on the tree, and sparkling with just as many Christmas lights. You feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. “Well, yeah, of course,” you stammer, “but still, it isn’t—”

A flash.

You blink, stunned.

Xavier is smiling down at his phone, and realisation dawns on you. “Wait, did you just—”

He turns the phone around to show you the photo he just took of you, and suddenly ‘unflattering’ has a whole new face and meaning. Your eyes are closed. You’re mid-speech, but you look mid-sneeze. “For next year!” Xavier chirps sweetly.

“No, no, no, Xavier, you have to delete that. It’s Christmas! Come on, please, just—”

You grab at the phone but he’s way ahead of you, holding it up out of reach with an easy-going hum. He turns away— walks away— and you can’t see it, but as you nip at his heels, flailing and frantically begging, he smiles, triumphant.

[lavenderprose]

Also, on a hornier note, please tell me more about the Mary Shelly thing? 😉

Assuming you're asking about the Emmrook version of events floating around my head and not the actual story about Mary Shelley losing her virginity on her mother's grave (This is a story I heard a long time ago and might be an urban legend/exaggeration of history. God I hope it's not it's the gothest thing I've ever heard. Either way, cannot be assed to check) Here's how it goes:

After a few nice garden picnics with Emmrich, during which Rook always takes a moment to pay her respects to Emmrich's parents--because she's a Mourn Watcher through and through, and when your in-laws aren't alive to have Family Sundays with, you make due by putting flowers on their grave and politely NOT bonking their son within eyesight of their headstones--the subject of Rook's origin story comes up. Maybe organically, maybe Emmrich's curious about her last name but he's been too polite up til now. Maybe the curiosity has been burning a visible fucking hole in his chest and Rook finally sighs and braces herself and says, "Go ahead and ask," and Emmrich, despite himself, launches into Twenty Questions Mode.

Either way.

"I know almost nothing about myself," is what Rook tells him, and she's made her peace with it long ago, but the sight of his sad eyes makes the old, stale heartache attempt to rise in her again. "No, don't do that. Don't pity me. I don't really care who I started life out as. What matters is who I am now."

"Rook," he says, and it's a statement. He's so intuitive that way. Yes, she's Rook, and that's who she chooses to be every day when she wakes up in the morning. If she tires of it, she'll tell him and they'll go from there. They've probably had this conversation before. Then he says, "I'm curious, dearest--"

"I'm shocked," she teases, and he tuts.

"Curious about the name," Emmrich sighs, and shifts into something she likes to call lecture mode, though it looks a bit ridiculous when he's sitting there on his own boot heels, hands folded in his lap like an eager and precocious boy. "The name Ingellvar is classic Navarran, of noble origin, though the family line has been extinct for over a century. Foundlings aren't uncommon in the Necropolis, and the naming conventions are rather specific. I was wondering--"

"Do you want to see it?" she asks, and leans herself onto his lap. He, as always, simpers to find himself full of her. "I know where it is. Been there a few times over the years. I'll show you the grave where they found me."

"I would quite like that," says Emmrich, so she takes him there.

The upper levels of the Necropolis are sometimes oppulent and sometimes just as dusty and ominous as their lower counterparts. They tend not to shift around as much, but there's no guarantee that anything in the Necropolis will stay in one place forever. Rook keeps track of this particular row of Sarcophagi, for obvious reasons. Several of the most important Nevarrans of the Blessed Age are interred here. Accordingly, it is beautiful and well-lit. The stones under their feet are neatly cobbled and the air is floral.

"They found me there," Rook says, pointing to a particular grave. A low, flat sarcophagus. The epitaph, huge and vaguely glowing even all these years after the initial enchantment:

HERE IS LAID TO REST WILHEM INGELLVAR COUNT OF RUNDEL. GREAT-GRANDSON OF KING BERTRAND PENTAGHAST. HUSBAND AND FATHER. HIS BONES WILL SERVE AS HE DID IN LIFE AS HIS SPIRIT WALKS BY THE MAKER'S SIDE.

It continues in that vein all down the sarcophagus, Nevarran patriotism and Andraste. Rook could recite it all from memory.

"Why this grave, I wonder," Emmrich mumbles.

"No idea," Rook says, which is true, and then, "Haven't really thought about it," which is the biggest, fattest lie she's ever told him.

Emmrich knows it too, because he looks at her and raises his eyebrow.

"Anyway." She slides herself onto the surface of the sarcophagus, which is polished to an almost reflective sheen. "Here's where they found me. Screaming, crying, wah-wah-feed-me." She falls onto her back, legs curled up towards her chest in a mockery of an infant. She wiggles her feet and her eyebrows in his direction. "I was smaller then."

"Evidently," Emmrich says, dryly, and sits down on the end of the sarcophagus. He glances around and, almost to himself, muses, "This chamber is quite busy, comparatively. It's popular for tourists, and close enough to the surface to be part of the Mortalitasi's regular rounds. Whomever put you here must have intended for you to be found."

"Whatever," Rook sighs, and drapes her legs over his lap. "I screamed and screamed until they found me. And the rest is history." She toes off one of her boots. "I have a fun story to tell you."

Emmrich visibly chooses not to address the flippancy with which she thinks of her own origin. Someday, maybe in a few years, she'll wake up in the middle of the night. She'll stumble like one of the dead into another bedroom in their top-level Necropolis townhouse and cling their newborn son to her body. When Emmrich finds her after waking to a cold bed, she'll look at him and with a voice like her own throat is haunted say, "Did she hate me enough to get rid of me? Or love me enough to let me go?" And he'll know she's talking about her own mother. And they'll start looking.

Here, on this day, she isn't yet a mother unless you count fire-slinging skeleton sons. Here, on this day, she plants her socked heel against Emmrich's crotch and curls her toes and says, "Once upon a time, there was a woman, and she was in love with a very beautiful and spooky man, and one time that very beautiful and spooky man fucked her in a sarcophagus and now she can't look at one without--"

"Darling," Emmrich gasps, and wraps his hand around her ankle and very decidedly does not move it. He'd put bangles there, and a chain that disappears into her sock and connects one of the bangles to a thin band that lives underneath the knuckle of her largest toe, and when he did so he looked at her with dark eyes and then did something with his mouth that she still thinks about at least once a day. "This isn't...very respectful of the noble dead."

God, she loves him.

"You've fucked me worse places. Besides, this guy," Rook slaps the surface of the sarcophagus, "was a huge monarchist asshole who's probably been spinning in his grave for the past thirty years because of the little elf girl running around with his last name tacked onto her. Maybe one of these days he'll stop spinning because I'll have a different last name." She's only a little amused that that's what makes Emmrich's cock jump against the sole of her foot.

"Dearest," he says, still consciously sitting still for what her foot is doing, "This really is a very highly trafficked area."

"Good," she says, low and slow.

"Oh," he sighs, and he sounds almost annoyed, like ink has dripped onto his favorite shirt, but he's moving to kneel between her thighs now, pressing her back into the relative concealment of the large flower bushes flanking the sarcophagus. A bit of privacy, such as it is.

"Whatever shall I do with you?" Emmrich asks, even as he shoves clothing aside. He takes off his coat and pillows her head with it, then pulls his shirttails out as some weird attempt at modesty, and she laughs until she feels him inside her.

"You'll figure something out," she tells him.

Emmrich Volkarin, the latest in a long line of esteemed Mortalitasi to be presented with a strange foundling discovered on a long-deceased noble's grave, smiles and makes love to her.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Finer Things 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom surprises you with a visit but has a lot more in store than you could ever imagine.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: my first day back to work but I get to work from home.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

Your phone buzzes on your textbook. It’s early. You don’t know why you’re awake, or studying for that matter, but here you are. Do you not know or are you in denial? 

Last night was strange. All of it. The dinner, the hotel, the drive home. It was all unexpected but you can easily predict the incoming phone call before you check the display. The same restlessness that stirred in you all night intensifies as you answer your mother. 

“Hi,” you squeak. 

She groans. You frown. “Sweetie,” she mumbles, “I feel awful.” 

“Mom, are you okay?” 

“No, my head is pounding. I’m not going to make the train home,” she grumbles. “I need coffee.” 

You tap your finger on the back of your phone. There’s a single-serve in her room. You saw it when you put her in the bed. 

“Do they have room service?” You suggest. 

“It’s so expensive, sweetie,” she whines. You know what she wants but you really shouldn’t give it to her. She is your mom, though. Your phone gives a short vibration but stops. 

“Uh, one sec,” you pull the phone back. ‘Call Incoming’. You shake your head. Probably some sort of robo scam. “Did you have any water?” 

“I can’t,” she snivels. “I can’t get out of bed, sweetie. Uh, I feel so horrid. Can’t you come and take care of your mommy?” 

You look at the ceiling. You really hate when she does that voice. She makes herself sound like a child. 

“I’ll bring my books,” you resign. “Might take me a while--” 

“You know, I called him. Tony. He won’t answer. He must’ve already left town.” She sighs weakly. “I’m so alone, sweetie.” 

“Mom, I’m leaving now. I have to get off the phone,” you say before your agitation grows. “Love you.” 

“Oh, I love you too. More than anything,” she purrs. 

You hang up. You do love her. She’s your mom but you don’t love the way she acts sometimes. Or that she puts so much on you. Every mood swing, every omen of bad luck, everything is your mess to clean up. Since you moved to campus, it dawns on your more and more, your mom has been more a roommate than a parent. 

You get up and pack up your books. You pull on a pair of soft track pants with fleece lining and a loose long-sleeve tee. You tuck your feet into your Ugg style boots and bundle up in your downy coat.  

As you scoop up your phone, it lights up with another call. You’re surprised it isn’t your mother begging you to bring her a latte instead of the hotel tripe. It’s not her but you’ll still get her a latte. You dismiss the private caller. 

You head out, bus pass and apathy well in hand. You get off a stop away from your mother’s hotel and find the cafe from the map app. You order her a pistachio cream and a plain americano for yourself. The hot cups underline the crisp frigidity in the air as you emerge. 

As you knock on your mother’s door, you hear her whine from inside. “Come in.” 

“I can’t, locked,” you call back. 

She sobs dramatically and you listen to her uneven footfalls. She opens the door, slumped forward as she exaggerates her hangover. You hold out the latte. 

“Oh, sweetie. You are a blessing,” she takes it and greedily slurps. “Mmm, oh, espresso, my darling friend.” 

She scurries away and the door shuts behind you. You hang your coat and leave your boots at the door. You pace around with your coffee as she goes back to the bed and hides her bare legs under the duvet. 

“So, you got home safely.” 

“Yeah,” you shrug and peek out the window. “You got advil? For your head?” 

“Of course,” she touches her forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot about my new meds. They mellow me out but oof, they make me so forgetful.” 

You nod. You’re not so sure it’s just the meds. She’s always been flighty. The unpaid credit card statements are evidence enough. 

“It’s so nice, though. An extra day in town to spend together! That’s so sweet,” she preens and grabs the remote from the bedside table. She aims it at the television and it blares on loudly. The reality show crowd jeers as the host reads from a cue card. 

“Mind if I study?” You ask. 

“No, I’m just going to be watching this trash,” she giggles. “Oh, this is a delightful latte.” 

“Right,” you go to the table and unpack your bag. 

You do your best to ignore the television. It’s so loud. She always cranks it so high. You highlight and copy over key points. Your coffee goes cold before you finish it. You choke down the dregs and stretch your fingers. 

“Gotta hit the bathroom.” 

“Sure, sweetie. Ooh, how about breakfast?” She offers. 

“I could eat,” you say as you cross the room. You have to keep yourself from reminding her of her own words; it’s so expensive. 

You close yourself in the bathroom and take your time. You would rather be in your dorm, even if it would be just as loud. Gabourey no doubt has big plans for the weekend. 

You come out. The TV blares and your mother sits cradling her phone. You go to the table and sit with a yawn. “Anything look good?” You ask. 

“So... how’d you get home last night?” She asks abruptly, popping her head up. Her expression is dangerous. 

You squint, “Mr. Stark drove me--” 

“Mr. Stark?” She clucks. “Oh, all the way back to your dorm? As he left me here all alone?” 

“Well, uh, yeah. I wanted to stay but--” 

“But what?” She snips and turns her phone around, showing the image on her phone. You put your glasses back on to see it clearly. You almost forgot about the photographer last night. “Looks like you had lots of fun together.” 

You blink as if she slapped you. Is she accusing you of something? 

“He just drove me to my dorm,” you say in confusion. 

“Oh, uh huh, yeah, I see that,” she sniffs. “I just... I’m wondering,” she sucks her teeth rudely, “why he’s not answering my messages or my calls, but then up pops this? Such lovely photos of you two.” 

“I’m... I’m not sure what’s going on.” 

“I’m not stupid. I mean, when I realised who he is, I knew it wasn’t going to be a big thing. Maybe a few nights but, sweetie, I didn’t raise you to be a slut,” she spits. 

You flinch again and your jaw drops, “what?! Mom, he gave me a ride back to my dorm. You can ask my roommates, I got there like fifteen minutes after we left here--” 

“I could ask and they’d lie to me just like you.” 

“I-I-I--” you sputter. “Wow. I can’t believe you think—when have I ever--” your adrenaline is pumping. Your own mother is jealous? Because some stupid paparazzi photos. 

“It’s here. It’s pasted all over. ‘Mystery girl with Stark’.” She taps her screen then tosses away the phone, “Urgh! Why won’t he answer me? Hm?” She looks at you with fiery eyes. “Because then he’d have to lie. That’s the only explanation.” 

Your eyes tinge hotly. You don’t get it. Your mom has her tantrums. She’s never been very immature, but your emotional punching bag, you’re not her competition. She’s always used you to make herself look and feel better. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” you stand up. “You should know that... mom.” 

She scoffs, “oh, you wouldn’t? Not after last night? All your little smiles? That tiny little voice you put on? Oh and that picture you got together? He’ll forget you too.” 

“I didn’t do anything--” 

“That doesn’t work on me,” she snaps. “Get out of my room before you make this headache any worse.” 

You stare at her. She rolls her eyes and scowls. She swipes up the phone and turns away from you. She taps her finger all over then puts it to her ear. 

“Danica, you won’t believe...” 

You don’t know what to do. You’re stunned. She’s your mom, she’s flawed sure but this is a bit much. You just turn and close your textbook and stack it beneath your notebook. You don’t say a word as she closes herself in the bathroom and sobs into her phone. 

She’ll get over it. It’s like that time she thought you stole her Dior lip stain. You don’t even use lip stain, but she was adamant. She didn’t talk to you for a week. Not until she found it in the bottom of her purse. 

You go to the door and wait a moment. She doesn’t come out. You put on your coat and your boots and leave. This is... absurd. 

Your phone buzzes as you stand in the elevator alone. That could be her but now you’re kind of mad. If she doesn’t want to talk to you, then she can do just that. You’re hurt that she would think you’re that kind of person. Although it does make you want to laugh that anyone would think you could get a man like Tony Stark, or a man at all. 

You come outside and your breath clouds round you, adding to the fuzziness of the world. You realise then that you’re crying. It’s probably just the stress of school. You know this is stupid, that it’s just another of your mom’s episodes. 

You mop away your tears and find the bus stop. You silence your phone. You wish the damn scammers would take a hint. You’re half-frozen by the time the weekend route arrives. 

You get off at the campus gates and walk the rest of the way. As you approach the front door, a whistle cuts through the air. You ignore it as you unlock the door. It’s only your name that stops you. You keep a hold of the handle and peer over your shoulder. 

“There you are. I’ve been calling,” Tony approaches in a long jacket and luxurious scarf. His hands are covered by leather gloves that creak as he rubs them together.  

“You have?” You frown. “Well, you should call my mom.” 

“Joyce? She didn’t answer,” he crosses his arms and pushes his shoulders up. “Getting cold out, huh? Think it’s going to snow soon.” 

“She didn’t? But she...” 

“You been crying, sweetheart, or you just cold?” He interrupts. 

You shake your head, “no.” You lie. “I’m just... my mom’s... hungover. She probably missed the call.” 

“Probably, huh?” He tucks his hands under his arms and chatters. “So, you going to invite me in out of the cold?” 

You stare at him. The tip of his nose is red. You should really just be honest. 

“Sure but I have to study so...” 

“I can stay out of your way, baby,” he winks. “Just wanna get the feeling back in my face.” 

“Alright,” you accept and unlock the door a second time. 

He catches it behind you and follows you inside. As you climb the stairs, you rein in your reeling mind. You stop at the top and turn to him. 

“Tony,” you murmur. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” He peels his gloves off. 

“I saw the pictures.” 

“Pictures?” He arches a brow. 

“They’re online. That guy with the camera put them on the internet,” you explain. 

He chuckles, “yeah, they always do that.” 

You stare at him. He just thinks it’s funny. 

“You can’t stay long, okay? I have a lot of work to do.” 

“Oh my, alright. Got it,” he raises his hands. “Kinda like it when you boss me around.” 

“I’m not... bossing you around. I just... I’ll be busy. You’ll get bored.” 

“Of you? Doubt it.” 

You sigh and spin away. You open your dorm and he enters behind you. You point him down the hall away from the chatter in the kitchen. As you unlock your room, you hear a squeal. 

“Ahhh, it’s him!” Racquel screeches, “Gab, get over here. I told you so.” 

You cringe and look over at your roommates. You drop your keys and groan. You pick them up as Tony turns to them. 

“Girls,” he greets cheerfully. “How ya doin’?” 

“I can’t believe it,” Virgie peeks around. Shouldn’t she be napping? 

“Everybody calm down, it’s just me, the world famous billionaire,” he snickers. 

“This is awesome,” Racquel says. “We were just opening the vodka, want a drink?” 

“At 11am?” He checks his watch, “sounds like a good start to the day.” 

He strolls forward and you star after him. Well, he’s not your problem anymore. You bend to pick up your keys. 

“Hey, sweetheart, coming?” He stops by the kitchen door and looks back. “Seems like you could use a drink or two.” 

[kikyoupdates]

Crushed Velvet ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

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One way or another, you’d made it through the engagement announcement, but your life still showed no sign of quieting down.

Ever since word had gotten out that you were Xeno’s fiancée, nobles kept paying your family visits, no doubt hoping to amass favor with you as quickly as possible. Of course, you saw right through their fickle appearances, but you were still obligated to meet with them and pretend like you cared. It was simple politics of the court. You’d been a high-ranked noble all your life, but you still weren’t quite used to being the center of attention like this.

That would have been all well and good, but as was true of most nobility, there were always those who insisted on poking their noses where they didn’t belong.

A certain countess visiting you had said this:

“Oh, my dear. You must be thrilled to be engaged to the Crown Prince. The rumors that you were already seeing a man must have been false, then.”

You’d done a good job of keeping your cool, but on top of her blatant rudeness, it was clear that she was accusing you of having an illicit relationship. Rumors were just that—rumors. Nevertheless, you’d never had there be such lies circulating about you. And surprise, surprise, they’d started just as soon as you’d been revealed as the Prince’s future bride.

You remembered Annalisa’s bitter expression back at the palace a few days prior. She had clearly been boiling with envy. You couldn’t exactly blame her. She’d probably been convinced that she would secure this position for herself, and to suddenly have it torn out of her grasp must have come as a shock. You also didn’t want to jump to any baseless accusations, but it seemed like a fairly reasonable guess to assume that she was probably the one who’d started spreading the rumors.

If she really is, then that only makes me respect her even less.

Xeno had described her as “filthy”, but he hadn’t really explained what he hated about her so much. You were sure he must have had his reasons, though. Especially if she was willing to resort to petty propaganda like this.

“My goodness,” your mother sighed, wiping her brow off with a handkerchief. “It’s been terribly busy. I think we’re going to have to hold off on any more visitors for a while. There’s just been far too many of them.”

“I’ve gotten quite sick of them as well,” you muttered.

“Is something the matter, sweetheart?”

“Nothing too serious. Based on what some of the nobles have been saying, it’s sounds like someone’s been spreading some rumors about me seeing another man.”

She went silent for a few moments, then pursed her lips in contemplation. “Well, that’s to be expected. Many families are bound to be jealous. They were probably hoping to marry their own daughter off to the Prince. Don’t let these rumors get the best of you. We know it isn’t the truth, and without any proof of the matter, you’re untouchable.”

“Yes, I agree. I suppose I’m just a little annoyed.”

“Why don’t you pay a visit to the Temple?” she suggested. “Go pray, take your mind off things. It would be good to have a priest bless your engagement.”

“Hm. Maybe I will.”

It had been a while since you’d gone down to the Temple. Besides the monarchy, which was the main governing factor of the kingdom, the Holy Temple and the High Council were also consulted when it came to making large scale decisions. Ultimately, the crown still got the final word, but a great deal of power was entrusted to these other two organizations. All nobles were required by law to be approved by the Temple before being allowed to serve under the King. You couldn’t say that you were a very religious person by nature, but every now and then, it did feel nice to have a quiet, safe space where you could focus on your thoughts.

You were escorted just outside the Temple by a handful of servants, since you were apparently a “big” deal now, but they didn’t try to overstep and follow you inside. As always, you could feel the entire atmosphere shift the second you stepped into the building. Light still filtered in through the stained glass windows, but the Temple was always softly lit, even with the smattering of candles laid out all around. Being inside here always gave you a chill. There was some sort of strange energy that filled the walls, and it brought you an inexplicable sense of peace.

There were hardly any people at this time of day. Most came in to do their prayers first thing in the morning. Regardless, you weren’t playing on staying for long. Just a few minutes sitting in silence and clearing your head would be good enough.

You made your way around the pews, headed to the frontmost-facing row. Just as you were about to sit down, one of the doors by the altar swung open and a man stepped out.

“Oh. Lady [Name]?”

It was one of the priests, Mihael Veron. He was the youngest member of the clergy, and he was beloved by the people for his gentle smile and kind mannerisms. Even as far as practicing religious men went, he was practically a saint. He was distractingly handsome too, which you berated yourself for thinking every time you laid eyes on him. He’d been working as a priest for just about three years now, and needless to say, you’d developed a bit of a crush on him.

“Hello,” you smiled back, cheeks slightly warm. “It’s very nice to see you, Father Mihael. I feel like it’s been quite a while.”

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “My, isn’t that because you’re constantly skipping out on your weekly sermons?”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled guiltily.

“Ha-ha. I’m only kidding. Religion is a highly personal thing. Everyone has their own unique connection to God. You should only come to Temple whenever you feel comfortable doing so.”

“Yes, but still… I’ll try to be better about it.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Lady [Name]. I was hoping to see you soon, though, in order to congratulate you on your engagement.” He smiled warmly. “I’m sure you and your family must be very happy with this arrangement. Though I admit, I was a bit taken aback to hear about the announcement so last-minute.”

You fidgeted in place. “It’s, uh… a little difficult to explain. I don’t really understand it either, but it seems like the King and Queen must be really excited for their son to get married.”

“Well, of course they would be, when it’s with someone as lovely as you.”

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the burning sensation on your cheeks. His clear blue eyes were so piercing, yet calm and reassuring at the same time.

Maybe going to Temple more often wouldn’t be the worst idea.

“Lady [Name]?”

“Y-Yes?!” you squeaked, absolutely mortified by the thoughts currently running through your mind.

Mihael just let out a soft chuckle, looking more amused than anything else. “My apologies. You looked deep in thought, so you must not have heard me. I was just saying, if you’d like, you can light a candle and I’ll read a few passages aloud for you. It won’t be a full sermon, just a little something to bless your union and lead the both of you forth in good health.”  

“Oh, that would be perfect, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Here, follow me.”

He picked a fresh candle out of a basket and handed it to you, then gestured for you to light it and place it along with the other lit candles. You did so, and once you’d set it where it belonged, you slowly closed your eyes and allowed the sound of Mihael’s gentle voice to fill the room.

It was a peaceful feeling, perhaps even more so because Mihael was the one reading the passages. There was a reason he was so loved. Initially, the other clergymen had thought less of him because he was so young and inexperienced, but with time, they too had come to cherish his presence. He was the Temple’s pride and joy.

After some time, Mihael’s voice eventually came to a stop. He waited for you to open your eyes and smiled again. “How was that?”

“It was lovely,” you beamed. “Thank you. I’m not all too familiar with most of the passages, but even if I couldn’t completely make sense of all the words, it still filled me with warmth. There were some worries on my mind earlier as well, so I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m very happy to hear that. This is a safe place. If you ever feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, you are always to come here.”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

Mihael leaned forward, his hand coming to rest just atop your head. You flushed, a bit confused, but certainly didn’t complain when he started gently stroking your hair.

“I am overjoyed for you, Lady [Name]. I will pray each day that you and the Prince have a long, happy marriage.”

He was so earnest, so genuine in his enthusiasm on your behalf, that you didn’t quite have the heart to tell him how you truly felt about Xeno. You just stood there, relishing in the warmth of this gentle, selfless man.

His hand eventually dropped, and he almost looked disappointed as it did.

“I should be going now,” you said. “My servants are waiting outside for me, and there’s a lot I still have to attend to now that word’s gotten out about my engagement. You know how nobles can be.”

“Yes, of course. I wish you the best of luck with all your endeavors.”

You thanked him again, and waved back at him up until you’d reached the entrance. You then turned and pushed the door open.

If you’d waited just a second longer before turning away, you would’ve seen his smile drop.

More chapters are available on Quotev!

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[duahauuoplanh]

From the first day we met, my world has always been full of you.

[atoriv-art]

older designs for my specialest guy

[artist-rat]

my old and new tes character Saima <3 she’s a combination of a couple of my prev. ocs!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

well that one comic panel with baby erik activated the sleeper agent in my brain that goes feral for de-aging angst... if you had the choice between erik protecting a suddenly de-aged charles or vice versa, which would it be and how how many years are they losing?

are you trying to killme. this amya very well kil me

[dirt-str1der]

Love characterising nishikiyama as a booze hound drug hound meth addict high every day body mass 75% alcohol hands constantly shaking literally spacing out while driving fifty over the speed limit using elderly folk as speedbumps one hand on the wheel and one hand free to do more drugs and coming into work while functionally deaf and blind and he is still leagues more competent at his job than kiryu

[tautozhone]

idk how to start this so this post is ab individual action, trying to motivate positive change in the world, etc etc

a lot of growing up in the US for me makes things feel more scary than they are. like it’s actually not that difficult to go out of your way to get a bottle of water or iced cup of water from some random drive through if you think you should do it. either fast food conglomerate or local actually, it’ll usually be cheaper than 5 dollars to get drinkable water. i try to have 5-10 dollars i can justify spending on water, and asking for change, because sometimes when i’m out driving i need to go grab water.

i do not do this for me as much as i try to do it specifically when i see someone who’s most likely homeless on a street corner. i’m sure one day i might do this and they might not be there when i come back, but what have i lost really? a bit of time and a bit of money that would’ve meant more to them, that i can hold onto until i see them next.

the pressure that a lot of people feel when they think “what can i do” comes from this grand narrative that the average citizen can singlehandedly fix the housing crisis. rich people? maybe. nonprofits? not in a day, not all one person still. what can i do is a question i ask a lot. what can i do, not just because it feels bad to move along like nothings wrong with the world, but what can i do that will do anything. what can i do that makes even the smallest change.

i feel like it took me too long to figure out a personal method to what i consider individual action. it’s taking time to get to my own financial stability to be able to do more. but for now it’s as simple as water and cash. not water and food, but water and cash.

individual action means a lot in small steps, go get a bottle of water bare minimum and the price of a meal if you can and then just give it to them. if it wasn’t such a miserably hot place where i live i would keep a pack of water in my car, which i still want to do for the sake of having immediate access to water to give someone who might need it- hot or cold sometimes won’t matter. but when it’s hot out, get cold water, if it’s cold out, a warm tea will hydrate more than coffee will as long as it’s not super caffeinated.

[butchnavi]

*starts drafting a rant on tumblr dot com* *writes a few hundred words* *is overcome by lethargy and omg doesn't sleeping sound so much more fun than this because im never going to get everything i want to express down and it's gonna feel forever incomplete* *lets it rot in my drafts forever and ever*

[oddcne]

Claws my way onto the dash after a million years just to rasp into the megaphone: fck american healthcare, all my homies hate american healthcare

[causenessus]

where do i even start. two people in love, but that are hurting. two people who meet each other and are in need of love and happiness, (“do you think you weren’t loved enough?” “somewhere between ‘not enough’ and ‘not at all’. i was always hungry for love. just once, i wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it… just once. but they never gave that to me. never, not once.”). they’re in need of love; the kind of love that reassures them that they are a person. they are a living, breathing human worthy of love. that nothing of their past defines them, there is always the chance to grow. the kind of love that reassures them they are not hated by the world, but that they are loved. and they find that in each other (“i want to hold this moment. i want to believe it. i want his love to have enough salt in it to float me. i don’t want to be swimming for my life.” -frankissstein) they are two people who have been drowning in silence for so long, but then they find each other. and they keep each other afloat. with promises to keep on living and promises that they will always be there for the other. that they will never leave. that they are there to stay. and sometimes one person is all that you need. iwa and y/n have the type of relationship where they cover the other’s ears when it gets too loud, the kind of relationship where they run into the others arms every moment they get. they know each other like the back of their hands, they know what sets the other off and they always know what the other needs. and when they finally retire to bed after a long night of living, and they let down their walls and they finally say it, “i’m so tired.” the other is there to hold them, saying “i know, love. but it’s going to be okay.” and it will be, because they have each other.

ways to live: h. iwaizumi

he’s depressed. she’s depressed. it’s all they ever talk about. she’s willing to try anything to feel better. he’s less optimistic

pairings: iwaizumi x f!reader

status: completed, uploading all the chapters today & then disappearing again

tags/warnings: online friends to lovers, blended smau (every chapter has written parts), university au, mini-series, happy ending, hurt/comfort, lots and lots of frank discussions on mental health, depression tweets, casual discussions of suicidal ideation (no death or sh), disordered behaviors, recovery

taglist: i’m not doing one please do not ask to be added

prologue: the list

chapter one: exercise

chapter two: nurture yourself with good nutrition

chapter three: connect with a support system

chapter four: help yourself by helping others

chapter five: demonstrate gratitude

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. bragging about your oh-so-perfect boyfriend to your friends certainly has its (welcomed) consequences. . .

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff & smut. p in v -> unprotected. missionary. sweet but also nasty and condescending. creampie. body worship. size difference / - kink. nicknames ‘(little) princess, baby’. name calling once. not proof read bcs im sleepy. wc. 2k+

“right! he’s so thoughtful,” you sigh dreamily as you chat with your friends over the phone. you’re laying on satoru’s bed, kicking your feet up while you remove your make-up. of course, you had to call your girls to tell them all about the little date you just had with your boyfriend.

satoru’s in the shower, so you’re taking the time to relive the experience.

“here she goes again y’all,” one of your friends sighs dramatically, to which the others follow with giggles of their own. they know that you can go on and on about your partner. they’ve heard all of it before.

you grin and roll your eyes, rubbing the cleansing wipe over your lips, removing the light pink gloss you had on. you’re all giddy as you recall what satoru has done and given to you this evening. you’ve been pampered—spoiled rotten.

“hey! don’t blame me,” you retort with a chuckle. your friends laugh and urge you to go on since they’re only joking. the stories you tell are always either adorable or heartwarming, and thus they’re happy to listen. plus, debriefing you on your love life is free entertainment.

it’s not unusual for you to stray from the main story. you ramble about the restaurant you’ve visited, the pretty green scenery you’ve walked past, the museum you’ve visited, the way satoru paid for everything and how he made sure to pick activities you’re interested.

you get an occasional ‘aww’ or ‘cuteee’ when you mention your boyfriend’s loving gestures. from the enormous bouquet of flowers he’s gotten you, to the fact that he carried you back into his apartment the moment you told him your feet were hurting.

walking in heels wasn’t the smart move you thought it was, though luckily you had a thoughtful lover by your side.

“he’s just so handsome ‘n stuff. god—“ you squeal, not even bothering to dampen your excitement. you hide your face behind your hands for a split second, gaining a few fan girling squeaks from your friends as well. they’re happy that you’re being treated like deserved.

you don’t hear the door of the bedroom open since you’re too busy gushing about satoru. you’re focused on your small pocket mirror, careful not to forget a spot on your face. you notice that your friends have gone quiet, but you don’t question it.

“his gentle personality is honestly such a turn-on,” you mumble as you rub off the concealer from under your eyes, “and his subtle yet possessive touches? phew, don’t get me started.” you continue to babble on about how hot satoru is when he gets mad, unable to point out a flaw.

you’re about to comment on your friends’ sudden silence when a hand lands on your shoulder. you freeze and finally make eye contact with no one other than satoru—hovering over you from behind. he’s smiling down at you and mumbles a quick, ‘hey, baby’, before kissing your forehead.

you try to explain the situation, yet have no idea where to start. you can hear a friend of yours snickering and another faintly whisper an ‘oh, girl. . .’

before you have the ability to get another word out, satoru cuts you off, waving at your front camera for a second. his smile reaches his eyes and his dimples show;

“hey ladies, mind if i steal my girl from you?” satoru asks as he puts an arm around you. he places his cheek against yours, awaiting an answer. your friends are left speechless at the sudden turn of events.

the white-haired man appears extremely good on screen. he’s basically blessing them with his handsome looks. the towel hanging over his head indicates that he just came out of a fresh shower. there’s a visible vein running down his neck—nearly bulging out of the skin—as if satoru’s holding himself back.

once your friends snap out of their daze, they greet satoru and nod, exchanging quick ‘see you later’s. your boyfriend thanks them with another one of his charming smiles. he waves at the camera again, “bye bye, thank you.”

the call ends and the bedroom falls quiet. you stare at your screen which fades to black, completely dumbfounded. you quickly sit up—your mind a chaotic mess full of thoughts.

“satoru, i uhm, i didn’t know—“ you attempt to form an explanation, though you realise that it’s likely futile. satoru’s probably heard every word that left your mouth. you look up at him, your voice a quiet whisper, “how much did you hear?”

the sorcerer grins. he’s so enamored with you; everything you do is adorable. he grabs your hands and holds then into his larger ones—thumbs gently rubbing your skin. he pulls them up to his lips so he could place chaste kisses on your knuckles.

“everything, princess,” satoru hums, rotating your hands to place kisses on the inside of your wrists. there’s a subtle blush on his cheeks that even reaches his ears. no matter how calm and collected he may seem, he’s still but a complete sucker to your love, “talking about me to your little friends, hm? how cute.”

a shiver runs down your spine. you feel your tummy turn as you’re slowly guided onto your back. multiple kisses cover your body—from head to toe—like a canvas getting painted on. satoru’s taking his sweet time, admiring the art that’s your physique.

every piece of clothing that comes off is a step closer to the grande revelation. the masterpiece that is you. moving from one empty spot - filling it with his kisses - to another. sighs of content leave your lover’s mouth with each reveal, as if he hasn’t seen the sight of your naked body before.

“does this turn you on, baby? my ‘subtle touches’?” satoru mutters against your breasts, remembering your earlier words. his blue eyes stare up at you through his white lashes. not wearing his blindfold may overstimulate him due to his abilities, but he’ll risk anything if it’s to admire you the best he can.

he chuckles when you nod. your boyfriend kisses your hard nipples—taking his time to swirl his tongue around both of them just to feel your back arch off the mattress. your hands holding onto him for life is extremely thrilling. “it turns me on too,” satoru confesses quietly. his slender fingers reach the hem of your panties, “you turn me on so fuckin’ much.”

your breath hitches when your underwear gets tossed somewhere across the room. you’re dripping, obviously. there’s no way you couldn’t get turned on by the way satoru’s been worshipping your entire being.

you can also see the effect you have on him; he’s sweating. the vein on his neck seems to grow more visible when your cunt is revealed to him.

“there she is,” satoru grins in satisfaction. he seems to be in a daze for a second before he regains composure. he looks at you for a quick check, needing to know if he has your consent before he continues. the moment you nod, your lover separates your legs.

you sniff and try to hide your embarrassed expression behind a hand. satoru’s quick to pin your wrist above your head so you wouldn’t have the chance to do any of that. “keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he leans in to place a swift kiss on your lips.

“mhm,” you nod after returning the peck. the white-haired man utters a small ‘thank you’ and undoes his sweatpants with his free hand. he fumbles with his boxers—unable to keep himself from trembling in pleasure from the view alone.

your small body underneath him is a sight he’ll never get tired of. that face of yours morphing into one of pleasure whenever you’re intimate is one of his favorite things to witness. thus why the missionary is his go to position.

“c’mon,” satoru kisses your cheek as he manages to pull his erected cock out of his underwear. it’s standing tall, the tip pointing right at the place it wants to be buried at—your wet, warm and inviting pussy, “you were so loud when talking with y’r friends ‘n now you’ve gone quiet on me.”

satoru pouts, “it’s not fair. i wanna hear my princess too.”

you almost choke on your spit because of how whiny yet demanding satoru sounds. you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, firmly holding your hand down above your head. you’re still flustered by the entire situation. you open your mouth as tears gather in your eyes, “i’m sorry, i’m jus— ngh!”

you can’t even get your words out. the lewd feeling of satoru rubbing his tip between your folds completely catches you off guard. he grins, as if he planned on doing that the moment you tried to speak. he’s such a tease.

“shh, shh, i know,” satoru coos mockingly, acting like he’s not doing it on purpose. you can’t blame the man; he’s been rock hard ever since he heard you praise him so openly through the phone. your lovely voice speaking so highly of him was driving him nuts.

you’re so appreciative for all he’s doing and it makes the sorcerer want to spoil you even more. to give you the love and affection you deserve because of how precious you are—even if you don’t realise it.

he wants to give you more. more, more, more.

without thinking, satoru pushes his cock right through your tight cunt. he shudders at the sight of your poor, small pussy struggling to take his fat dick. he can’t hurt you, he knows. especially with the amount of times the bulbous head of his cock nearly bruised your cervix.

though, it’s difficult not to go all out. you’re so accepting of everything he does—satoru can see that by the way your eyes stare at him. it’s all love. the light reflecting in your pupils makes them sparkle beautifully. he cusses under his breath, “y’re so pretty, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck. y’re making it so hard.”

satoru tries his best not to plunge his cock all the way to the hilt. he reaches halfway with each thrust, the thwacking sound increasing by the second. your legs automatically wrap around his waist and your fingers squeeze his.

“toruuu, fmhh, so big,” you babble, the drool forming in the corners of your lips threatening to drip down your chin. each soft yet firm thrust seems to resonate within you, evoking a sense of pleasurable contentment.

satoru lets out a haughty chuckle at the sight of you going cockdrunk already. he’s still trying to hold his urges back by focusing on your satisfaction alone. “i’ll give you something else to brag ‘bout to y’r friends,” he pants with a confident smirk, kissing your jawline as he ruts into you,

you’re embarrassed by your current predicament. despite that, you find yourself enjoying every consequence that your actions have caused. your moans echo in satoru’s ears, each slap of your bodies connecting sounding twice as loud.

his thick cock is stretching you out so well. your cunt is working overtime to make space for every inch. your boyfriend gently bites your bottom lip, his breath faltering when you clench around him in response.

“‘re ya gonna tell them?” satoru asks through a guttural moan. his hips move non-stop, aiming to please you until you lose your mind. he’ll live up to the expectations set no matter what. he kisses the swell of your breasts, “are ya gonna tell ‘em how you let your ‘lovely’ boyfriend fuck you like this? how y’re a complete slut for his cock?”

you don’t know how to react to his dirty talk. it’s getting you wetter, that’s for sure. your thighs shake around his waist and your tummy feels like it’s doing flips. satoru doesn’t leave it there, “gonna tell them about how good i fill you up, yeah? dirty little girl telling all her friends about our private life, tsk tsk.”

it’s overwhelming. the sudden increase in dirty talk makes you want to cum on spot. you feel like you’re being degraded, however satoru’s touches make you feel appreciated and loved. his hand holding yours above your head never leaves you—a sign that this is still him making love to you.

“am—am not gonna,” you hiccup. the words simply roll of your tongue without much thought. you’re mindlessly responding to your lover. “am not gonna tell them anything,” you continue before cutting yourself off with a string of whiny moans when satoru plays with your clit.

satoru shakes his head, increasing the pressure and speed in which he’s pumping into you. he loves the view of you being so helpless—succumbing to the pleasure he’s granting you. “sureeee, i believe you,” your boyfriend snickers and pushes his pulsing cock in further. his tone is soft but condescending, “i’ll trust my little princess to keep her mouth shut f’me.”

you’re getting so close. your nails dig into his skin and your noises get louder. you’re right on the edge of euphoria. the clit stimulation along with the feeling of being filled to the brim is enough to make you see stars.

satoru nods at your desperate whimpers that alarm him that you’re close to climax. “i got you, baby. cum f’me—i got you,” he places sloppy kisses all over your face and rams his cock in and out of you in a stronger rhythm. there’s nothing satoru wants to do in this world more than to flood your insides with his cum.

his cock doesn’t stop prodding at your sweet spots and it’s making you approach that peak; the peak of pleasure that’s going to push you over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover and he doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace. “it’s okay, do it f’me,” satoru encourages you once again through a husky whisper.

you’re thankful that you have such an attentive partner. he can go from teasing you to comforting you and it’s the most reassuring thing ever. you’ve never had a man hold you so intimately while he’s balls deep into you.

“g’nna cum,” a strangled moan leaves your throat when you try to speak. your chests are pressed together and your heartbeats match—like the perfect pair you are. satoru feels his balls clench with an aching feeling, needing to release every last drop they have stored into your tiny cunt.

just thinking about the way you were bragging about him again, is enough. “take it—fuuuckk—take it all, baby,” the white-haired man takes a deep breath in and can’t help but bury his entire dick inside of you, that one last thrust making you yelp.

you reach your climaxes at the exact same time. your fluids mix as you feel satoru’s thick spurts of cum coat your insides a sticky white. your body spasms and your boyfriend instantly soothes you by rubbing your back. his own legs are trembling a little, but you’re far more important.

you don’t utter a word and simply focus on regaining your energy. all that you can say are incoherent babbles. “easy,” satoru kisses the corners of your eyes and relishes in the fact that he’s fucked you full of his cum. it’s a reminder of just how much he loves you.

a few encouraging words and hugs later and you’ve calmed down. you don’t fully grasp the reality of the situation until the adrenaline and other hormones drop down to a normal level.

you’re suddenly reminded by your previous words and this time, you succeed in hiding your face into the crook of satoru’s neck.

it’s certain that he’s greatly enjoyed overhearing you talk about him to your friends, but it’s still a somewhat embarrassing memory you wish to forget. “not a word, please. j-jus act like you haven’t heard anything,” you mumble quietly now that you’ve come down from your high.

satoru laughs softly. he can’t help but tease you after that—it’s a given. you’re still so caught up on what happened and it’s endearing.

however, satoru wouldn’t be him if he didn’t tease you about your little comments. without pulling out, he tilts his head back and stares down at you with a faint grin, “do i have to act like i haven’t fucked you silly just now too?”

“satoru!”

[iliothermia]

Shana Tova!!! May your enemies, haters, and those who wish evil upon you be cut off. The blessing for the leek has always felt resonant but this year it's been on my mind a lot. For me at least, 5785 is a year of practicing healthy boundaries and taking care of myself - even if I have to run on spite. I hope everyone has a safe Rosh Hashanah ❤️

[targaryen-dynasty]

REDAMANCY.

Cregan Stark x female Targaryen!Reader (Part 4 here)

From the very beginning on you’ve been hesitant to accept your younger brother’s offer to return to the capital for your child to receive his blessings. And when you‘re finally on the way, it’s your husband‘s duty to take care of you.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; p in v, lactation kink, lactating, pregnant sex, pregnancy, slight breeding kink, praise kink, slight degrading, angst, fluff

WORDS: 3.3 K

NOTES: Redamancy means A love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you, and let me tell you: these two are in love. Thanks to @sylasthegrim, it‘s always good to know you help me with my zero grasp on English!

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Ravens from Winterfell flying all the way down to King’s Landing has always taken quite some time. And therefore it was no wonder you were surprised that one of your younger brother’s ravens reached the castle not long after you'd informed him you were with child, inviting you to birth it in the Red Keep for it to receive the young king’s blessings.

Being the ever dutiful Lord of House Stark, there was no way your husband would refuse the offer, and once your pregnancy had crossed the seventh moon mark, a carriage and your husband’s entourage were sent south.

From the very beginning on you’ve been hesitant to accept the offer. Westeros’ capital has brought nothing but pain and grief to you, and you’re afraid coming back ruins the comfort and peace you’ve found far, far away from the castle in the North, in Winterfell. But a part of you misses and longs for your siblings and the part of your family that’s still left, hence it didn’t take too much convincing from your husband.

You’ve lost count of the days you spent in that damned carriage by now, solely accompanied by your maids as your dear husband rides at the front of his entourage, joining his men on horseback. But there’s one thing all days have in common: it’s you being exhausted beyond relief once night comes.

For the longest time you thought your unborn babe to be no-fussy and calm, which proved to be false just one week into the travel. It’s restless, kicking and moving especially when you finally find rest in the bed of the receptive inn you stay in for the night. Your feet are swollen, just like your breasts, and your body provides milk as though the babe has been long born already, and all you crave at this point is for the pregnancy to be over already.

As the wheelhouse comes to a stop, you rub your swollen bump with a sigh, looking toward the door with heavy footsteps approaching. Your beloved husband opens the door, and even though he won’t admit it, he looks just as exhausted as you do.

“Is it time?” you ask, slowly rising to your feet with another sigh. You place your small hand in his large one, allowing him to help you out.

He nods, bringing a hand to the small of your back. “Indeed. We have reached the crossroads. From here we are only ten days away from King’s Landing, which means the end of our journey is in sight,” he replies. “How are you and our son feeling?”

Cregan guides you away from the wheelhouse, escorting you through the crowd of his men towards a large inn sitting right where the river road crosses the kingsroad. And from old tales of your uncle you know it has to be the Bellringer Inn, a place where even your great-grandfather and great-grandmother have stayed at before.

“We do not yet know if this babe will be a boy or a girl, husband,” you chastise him in a teasing manner.

“You are right, we do not,” he says. “But I feel it in my bones. Just call it a father’s intuition.”

You roll your eyes at his words and nudge his ribs with your elbow, yet there also pulls a smile at the corners of your lips. He chuckles at that. “Careful, my love, I am not as nimble as I used to be.”

Shaking your head, you giggle softly. “Do not tell me that you are an old man now, Lord Stark.”

As you make your way through the courtyard and towards the inn, you can feel the curious glances of the passerby; a man of Cregan’s caliber always drew the attention toward him, just like your hair did. But you’re unbothered by it all. You carry a piece of your husband within you, and that thought fills you with a sense of fulfillment and pride.

He looks for the innkeeper as you reach for his hand, pulling it from your back around your frame, squeezing it softly. “Might you join me tonight? I know that you can not leave your men alone, but one night will surely do no harm. I must admit that I have hardly found sleep without your warmth for the past weeks.”

With a gentle, intimate gesture, Cregan brushes his fingers over your swollen bump, before pulling you against his side. “How can I ever be expected to refuse anything my beautiful wife asks of me? Of course I will join you tonight.” Leaning a bit closer toward you, he adds with a quiet whisper: “Your presence has been missed in my bed as well. The nights feel cold and lonely without you by my side.”

Heat crawls onto your cheeks at the proximity and the slight implication that comes with his words, solely interrupted when a stout man with a bushy beard but otherwise pleasant demeanor walks around the corner and welcomes you two.

Upon Cregan’s inquiry about the availability of a room, he hands over the keys and leads you toward your place of retreat for the night. More than once have you told Cregan you’re perfectly fine with sleeping in a tent with him, yet he always came back to your delicate condition, stating he only wants the best for you and his unborn child, and you eventually have given up and accepted it.

The room is decent. Not as big as your chambers at home, but still larger than what you’ve slept in for the last few weeks. Your maids already scurry into the room to bring some of your belongings and clothes to get you ready for the night, while Cregan leans in to kiss your temple. “Let me arrange for my man to sleep outside the inn for the night,” he mutters against your skin. “And then we shall spend the night in warm beds.”

Even with your maids bustling around you, you can’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at his words. The prospect of sharing the night with him is enough to make you forget the soreness of your swollen curves that has become a constant companion over the past few moons.

“I will freshen up in the meantime,” you say, leaning into his touch before he pulls away to take care of his men’s sleeping arrangements for the night. Once everything was adjusted in the chambers, your maids moved to help you out of your clothes, but you refused them, having planned something very special.

Standing in front of the small window, overlooking a stable with a thatch roof and a bell tower, you all but admire how quietly Cregan opens the door, and with the lock falling right into place behind him, the room grows even quieter and the atmosphere becomes charged with anticipation.

“Is everything sorted?” you ask, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“All set,” your husband replies with a low voice as he approaches you.

He comes to tower over your frame from behind, moving his hands over your hips up to your waist. Lifting your head, your eyes lock with his. “Alone at last, hm?” There’s a sultry smile on your lips now, and you gently reach behind you to cup his cheek with one hand. “Now you’re all mine for the night.”

You lean against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths against your back. Cregan seizes the opportunity and brushes your hair over one shoulder before he presses his lips to the crook of your neck. The touch makes you sigh, stirring something inside of you you have had to keep at bay for quite some time. When he brings his large hands to your swollen breasts, fondling them through the thick fabric of your dress, you can’t help but moan, the slight squeezing aiding against the heaviness.

But then his hands and lips leave your body, and he slightly leans around you to look at you – or rather your breasts – and you immediately know the reason why.

The gray fabric has become damp under his touch, two dark spots prominent in the front of it. While it brings a bit of shame to your cheeks, the low rumble that escapes his chest sends a fire straight down between your legs. “I should have warned you I started leaking a fortnight ago,” you admit ashamedly, biting your bottom lip.

“I quite enjoy the sight of it, you know,” he says, voice laced with a combination of awe, adoration and burning need. His hands shift to the lace in the back of your dress. “But let us put this to good use.”

The dress comes undone with ease, falling to the floor in a puddle around your feet. Damp spots are decorating your smallclothes, but this time you don’t mind the sight. Cregan’s hands now roam over your body, tracing the curve of your waist and your growing bump.

Although you know exactly what it is his words are meant to imply, you choose to tease him. “And what is it you have in mind right now, hm?”

His gray eyes briefly flicker to the bed close to you, before meeting yours again. “I have a few things in mind. But for now…” He cups your chin, tilting your head up so he can claim your lips in a slow, deep kiss that’s full of desire and passion. It makes you feel as though the air is sucked right out of your lungs by him, as if you can’t survive without his lips on yours. “How about we make the most of this night, my love?”

“I’m all yours,” you breathe against his lips.

His large hands roam your curves, helping you out of your undergarments, until they settle at your thighs, wrapping around them to effortlessly hoist you up. Although Cregan is quite the bull of a man and appears to be a brute, he possesses a tenderness you wouldn’t expect from him, gently keeping your body against his and lying you down on the bed not far away just as carefully.

Soft, gentle kisses are pressed to your collarbones, igniting a fire within you that has been smoldering for too long. As his fingers glide over your skin with featherlight touches, leaving a burning trail behind, he finds his hands drawn to your full breasts, cupping and holding them, and eventually squeezing them.

More droplets of your milk trickle into his calloused palms, wetting his skin, but he does not care–not when he has you writhing and whimpering beneath him at just the faintest of touches.

Your husband’s eagerness would have almost made you chuckle, watching him rise from the bed to rid himself off his clothes hastily, if it wouldn’t match your own desire and greediness. With his breeches falling to the ground, his cock stands to full attention, hard enough for it to almost seem painful.

His hungry gazes devours your bare form, tall frame slightly hunched forwards as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“Will you just stand there and watch, my wolf?” you tease, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What happened to ‘let us put this to good use’?”

It’s the teasing lilt in your voice that pulls him out of his stupor like a wave, the chuckle he releases low and throaty. “You are a temptress, my love,” he replies. “You are lucky I am a man of my word.”

“Then touch me,” you whine, words coming out more desperate than actually intended.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Slowly approaching the bed, Cregan bows forwards and grabs one of your feet. He lifts your leg and starts to trail sloppy, open mouthed kisses along the inside of your leg, occasionally nibbling on the skin of your inner thigh.

Your back slightly arches off the mattress, body thrumming with desire. Entangling your hands in his dark curls, you use the grip as reigns to where you want him most, but your husband acts completely unfazed, not allowing you to tug him higher up.

He takes his time, kissing and nibbling your thighs, before he boldly presses a kiss to the apex of your legs, tongue briefly dragging through your folds. It elicits a shudder in its wake, and you can’t stifle a moan.

Making his way up, he licks your navel, and eventually traces the curve of your full breast, circling your hardened bud. Cregan laps up every drop of milk that oozes out of your bud like nothing else than a starved wolf, the edge of his teeth applying just a faint pressure to the sensitive skin to stimulate the flow.

But when his other hand comes up to fondle and squeeze your other breast, that’s the moment you lose your composure, shamelessly smothering him with your breasts. “Gods, Cregan…” you whimper, immediately bringing you relief. There isn’t even time to waste a thought about the indecency of it all, not when it feels just so right.

It’s your mewls, your whispered whines and moans, the sound of you saying his name in such a desperate manner that drives him to continue. “You make me ache for you,” he rasps against your skin, voice thick with desire. Your husband never falters to ignite a fire inside of you with his words, especially when there’s an innuendo hidden between his praises.

Bringing his hand from your breast down between your bodies, he aligns himself with you, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds in a way that makes you bite back a moan and grind against him. You grip his dark curls harshly as he finally eases inside, pushing into you inch by inch, agonizingly slow to make sure you feel him enter you.

His suckling falters with the tightness of your walls embracing him, overwhelmed by pure bliss and a feeling he’s missed for the past few weeks.

Every gasp and whine that escapes you only serves to embolden him further, continuing to tease and taste your breast with unrivaled enthusiasm. It juxtaposes the slow, sloppy thrusts of his hips, and brings you two different kinds of sensations at once.

Cregan has made himself home between your legs, rocking his hips leisurely back and forth. He has dropped his weight on one elbow and leant his upper body to the side, determined to not put any weight on your swollen bump. His lips are firmly wrapped around your bud while his hand teases the other, pinching and squeezing it between his fingers. The proximity is unmatchable, feeding into your constant desire to be as close to him as possible.

You can practically watch him lose every ounce of self control, his suckling becoming more intense and the thrusts growing in determination. His groans and grunts are muffled, and droplets of your milk trickle idly down his chin, getting lost in the dark, coarse hairs.

You fully expect him to say something when he releases your bud, but he’s far too eager to get his fill again. Pinching the perky bud of your other breast harshly, droplets of milk run down the curve of it, only to be traced by his tongue, liking a flat stripe over your skin. He chokes on a groan as the sight has you clenching tightly around his hard cock.

“Please– do not stop,” you whimper, applying a bit of pressure to his head to urge him towards your breast again. “... not yet.”

Dark-blown eyes suddenly flicker up to meet yours, and a shuddered breath leaves your lips. “My my, what a greedy wench I have for a wife,” he chuckles to himself. You don’t take offense, but the statement does make you duck your head and bite your bottom lip sheepishly. “I do not intend to.”

Despite the teasing, it’s obvious your pleas fall upon eager ears as he heeds your command and closes his lips around your bud again. Every hungry pull of his lips draws more and more milk from you, and while relief makes itself known in your breasts, a different kind of pressure starts to settle in the pit of your belly.

Squeezing him so well, you make it impossible for Cregan to move on his own accord, and quickly take over, rolling your hips against his. It’s a race for completion, making your pearl throb with anticipation.

The coarse hairs of your husband’s beard drag over your sensitive skin with his eager suckling, tickling you and causing you to arch against him even more. You have your arms wrapped around his neck at this point, keeping him tightly against you.

A string of yesses falls past your lips like a chant, and the pace of your hips increases as far as your bump allows you to. Your mind grows hazy with pleasure, until your peak washes over you with a loud gasp.

You haven’t noticed Cregan watching you through it all, too focused on the sensations coursing through your body. His gaze is mesmerized, clearly relishing in the relief that’s etched onto your features and the way your walls flutter around his cock.

He pulls back, droplets of milk resting in the corners of his lips, and lifts his body to tower over you. The thrusting of his hips grows sharper now, determined to help you through your pleasure.

“That’s it,” he rasps, one hand resting on the mattress next to your head while the other gropes at your now relieved breasts.

“Once this pup is born,” he emphasized the words by rolling your sore bud between his index finger and thumb, drawing out just a few more droplets of milk. “I shall put another in you to keep you round with my seed.”

Your head grows dizzy, lightheaded even, and you can’t do more than whimper and whine through your peak, not fully comprehending what he’s said.

Cregan snaps his hips into yours once, twice before he topples over the edge with a loud groan, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of you. Cupping your breast, his fingers dig harshly into your flesh.

You continue to roll your hips against his, prolonging his pleasure. Switching roles, it’s now your turn to milk him for every drop, taking everything his cock spills inside of you. Every muscle in his body tenses, until eventually, he collapses to the side, careful not to put his weight on your swollen bump.

With his cock slowly becoming flaccid again, the sensation of his seed leaking out of your cunt is more apparent, causing heat to spread throughout your body. If it wasn’t for you carrying his child already, you would have mounted him to make sure his seed would bear fruit.

Cregan eventually lies down on his back, and you seize the chance to rest your head on his chest. It’s hard to keep your eyes open as his hand softly entangles into your hair, scratching your scalp in the manner that usually lulls you to sleep. His breath is slower now, his chest rising and lowering your head.

“I can not bear to spend another night without you by my side,” you all but whisper, bringing a hand to his stomach.

Your finger trails the contours of his muscles, before following the dark trail of coarse hairs down.

“You needn‘t worry about that,” he says. “We shall not stay in King’s Landing for too long. And I highly doubt that anyone could get me out of your chambers during the time we stay there. Once we arrive, we shall stay together.”

Nodding your head slowly, you hum a ‘mh-mh‘, too engrossed in the feeling of his hand in your hair and the other rubbing soothing circles over your back. Having trouble staying awake, you’re hardly able to process his next words, already drifting off to sleep.

“Let us sleep now, my love. We have another tiresome day ahead of us.“

Cregan Taglist: @nats-whore @aemondsbabe