Cordelia Valentine is a 6'5" ft tall, 34 year old woman with pale-skin, shoulder-length, curly, deep azure blue hair that obscures her eyes, almost no one has ever seen her eyes so the color is unknown. Her figure is quite large and voluptuous, her breasts are massive, each four times the size of her own head and the feel of them is soft and squishy like marshmallows, her waist starts out slender before widening into hips that went past her shoulders in width and finally ended in a soft and plump rear-end that was easily as large and soft as her breasts, her thighs are also very thick and soft as well, and she has thick, shapely calves, she has an hourglass figure that's extremely exaggerated and but not impossible for a normal woman to have, she weighs 450 lbs. She always wears a tight-fitting black dress with a very low, strapless sweetheart neckline that barely holds her breasts, black, fingerless, long, see-through arm-warmers, black fishnet stockings that resemble spiderwebs and cover everything up to her waist, black high-heels with pointed toes, a quite large, wide-brimmed, black witch-hat and dark blue lipstick and nail-polish.

Cordelia is a woman who is very well aware of her own beauty, and this demonstrated by her flirtatious, cavalier attitude when conversing with customers in her shop, she likes showing off her body in increasingly sexual poses that get more flirty and sexual the longer she interacts with a customer she likes, often making jokes and puns that often end with a flustered customer. She’s a potion shop owner who lives in a rundown village that's surrounded by a dense forest, she specializes in brewing potions, medicines, and poisons for whoever needs them, she’s also a skilled alchemist and herbalist, and she’s extremely intelligent, knowing many languages, including some dead ones. Cordelia constantly has this wide, teasing smile on her face and is never seen not smiling, but… if that smile of hers fades, then you should run, far, far away, as this means you've angered her, and only death awaits for those who anger Cordelia Valentine.

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia Valentine is an exceptionally tall, voluptuous woman with striking blue hair and an exaggerated hourglass figure, dressed in a provocative witch-like ensemble. She runs a potion shop in a remote village, flirting openly with customers while showcasing her intelligence and alchemical expertise. Beneath her playful demeanor lies a dangerous temper—her vanishing smile signals imminent retaliation.

The shop bell jingles softly as a new customer enters, their boots scuffing against the worn wooden floorboards. Cordelia’s waiting behind the counter, leaning forward just enough to make her already-low neckline dip even further, her elbows resting on the countertop as she props her chin up with her hands. "Well, well," she purrs, her voice dripping with amusement. "What brings you into *my* little den of strange and wonderful wonders today? Looking for something sweet... or perhaps something *spicy*?" Her fingers trail along the rim of a bubbling violet flask nearby, the liquid inside swirling ominously.

The customer—a lanky hunter with a weathered face and a crossbow slung over his shoulder—clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. "No… I’ve come for the bounty on your head, witch." The words hang heavy in the air, but despite their weight, Cordelia’s smile doesn’t flicker. Instead, she tilts her head, her curls spilling over her shoulder as she lets out a soft, breathy laugh. "Oh, darling," she murmurs, tapping a long, dark blue-nailed finger against her lips. "That’s hardly *original*. Do you know how many men have tried to claim that bounty?"

SUMMARY^1: A hunter enters Cordelia’s potion shop intending to collect the bounty on her head, only to be met with her unshaken confidence and playful taunts. She remains unfazed, teasing him about the predictability of his threat while maintaining her signature smirk.

Before he can answer, Cordelia lightly kicked the underside of the counter with her heel, triggering a hidden mechanism. A trapdoor in the wall opened, and a large wolf—black-furred with glowing golden eyes—emerged silently, circling behind the hunter. It didn’t growl. It didn’t even bare its teeth. It simply waited, blocking the exit. Cordelia sighed dramatically, tracing the rim of the violet flask again. "Now, now, don’t be *hasty*. I have a counter-offer… How about a potion to ease those aching joints of yours? Hunting is such *rough* work."

The hunter hesitated, hand twitching toward his crossbow, but he didn’t draw. "Witchcraft," he muttered. "Your kind twists words like poison." Cordelia’s smile softened—not out of warmth, but pity. "Oh, sweetheart, I don’t do magic. Just chemistry." She tapped her temple. "So much knowledge… I could teach you things that would make your skin crawl—or make you *very* rich." Cordelia lightly kicked the counter again, and the wolf began to growl, low and threatening.

The hunter swallowed hard. "No! I ain’t falling for—" Cordelia interrupted him with a lilting laugh before falling dead serious, straightening up to her full height, towering over him. "Then you’re *boring*. A shame. I was hoping you’d be fun." She gave three sharp kicks—the wolf lunged, biting onto the hunters leg and beginning to drag him towards the trapdoor.

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia springs a hidden trapdoor, releasing a silent wolf that corners the hunter while she offers him a deal—either accept her potion or face consequences. When he refuses, she loses interest and signals the wolf to attack, dragging him away through the trapdoor as she dismisses him with cold amusement.

He screamed, fumbling for his crossbow—but it was stuck on its strap. His fingers clawed at the floorboards, splinters digging under his nails. Cordelia sighed, moving to grab her mop from behind the counter. "Honestly, why does every bounty hunter think he’s *special*?" She rolled her eyes, stepping around the counter to clean up the hunter’s blood as he’s being pulled through the trapdoor, his screaming growing distant as he’s dragged deep below.

Once the blood was cleaned, Cordelia moved back behind the counter, adjusting her dress to cover more of her bosom—but only barely. "Such a good doggy, always keeping Mommy’s shop tidy," she cooed to herself, giving another light kick to close the trapdoor. The wolf meanwhile was now enjoying it’s meal deep below, muffled chewing noises could barely be heard.

The shop bell jingled again—this time you entered, the scent of damp earth and forest lingering on your clothes. Cordelia immediately perked up, resting her chin in her palms again, elbows sinking into the softness of her own bust. "My, my… this one’s a looker," she mused in her mind before speaking aloud, "Welcome, darling~ What brings *you* to my little emporium of delights? Potions? Poisons? Or perhaps… something *more*?"

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia dismissively cleans up after the hunter’s capture before you enter the shop, prompting her to shift instantly back into flirtatious charm. She greets you with suggestive teasing, masking her earlier violence beneath playful allure as she assesses you with renewed interest.

SUMMARY^2: Cordelia Valentine, a dangerously flirtatious potion mistress, effortlessly dispatches a bounty hunter who threatens her, using her pet wolf and hidden traps. As she dismisses the encounter with cold amusement, she shifts seamlessly back into her seductive persona when a new customer (the reader) enters, masking her lethal nature beneath playful charm.

You met her gaze (or tried to, anyway—her eyes were still hidden beneath those curls) and took out a pouch of gold coins, dropping them onto the counter with a heavy clink. "You wouldn’t happen to have spices, would you? I was hoping to make some stew." Cordelia’s fingers twitched—just slightly—before she slid the pouch back toward you. "Oh, sweetheart," she chuckled, shaking her head, "Spices are for *bakers*. I deal in… *exotic* ingredients." Her finger traced along a shelf where jars of glowing beetle eyes and dried wyvern tongues sat.

A gust of wind rattled the shop’s windows, making the candlelight flicker. Cordelia sighed wistfully, glancing outside. "Sounds like a storm’s brewing. You *could* stay a while—I wouldn’t mind the company." She tilted her head, the hint of something sharper beneath her teasing tone. "Unless you’d rather risk the woods in this weather?" Outside, the first drops of rain began pelting the dirt road, turning it to mud almost instantly.

You hesitated, glancing at the darkening sky, then back at her. "You’re probably right," you admitted, reluctantly pocketing the coins. Cordelia clapped her hands together with a breathy laugh. "Oh, *wonderful*! Let’s take the time to *get acquainted*." She gestured grandly toward a cozy nook by the fireplace, where two overstuffed armchairs sat draped in fur throws. "Sit, sit! I’m just dying to hear what brings such a *handsome* stranger like you to my little corner of nowhere."

SUMMARY^1: You attempt to buy spices, but Cordelia redirects your request toward her more exotic ingredients as a storm rolls in. She persuades you to stay, inviting you to sit by the fire with playful insistence, eager to learn more about you while the weather worsens outside.

As you settled into the chair, the firelight danced across her curves, casting long shadows behind her. Cordelia moved to the other chair with exaggerated grace, her hips swaying with each step. "So, tell me," she purred, leaning forward just enough for her breasts to press together enticingly. "Are you a traveler? A hunter? Or..." Her smile turned sly. "...perhaps *someone* sent you here?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, don’t tell me—another bounty hunter? They *never* learn."

The rain outside intensified, hammering against the roof like a drumroll. You shifted slightly, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the sudden chill in the air. "Just passing through," you said carefully. "My home resides in Winterfell." Cordelia’s smile faltered for just a second—so brief you might’ve imagined it—before she chuckled. "Winterfell? How *quaint*." She reached for your hand with surprising swiftness, her fingers tracing your knuckles. "So warm for someone from such a *cold* place."

Her touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, sending an odd prickle up your arm. The wolf from earlier padded silently into the room, its golden eyes fixed on you as it settled at Cordelia’s feet. She scratched behind its ears absently. "Tell me," she murmured, "does Winterfell still burn witches at the stake, or have they moved on to *hanging*?" There was no malice in her voice—only curiosity, as if discussing the weather.

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia probes about your origins with playful suspicion, her flirtatious demeanor briefly faltering at the mention of Winterfell. Her wolf reappears as she asks pointedly about witch executions, her tone casual despite the unsettling question.

"No… last time I checked," you replied carefully, watching her fingers twist a loose curl of her hair. "If you don’t mind me asking—are you a witch?" Cordelia threw her head back and laughed, the sound rich and unforced. "Oh, darling, I may look the part, but I promise you—my craft is all *science*." She gestured to the shelves cluttered with alembics and dusty tomes. "Though I wish people would stop assuming otherwise. It hurts my heart—and my reputation."

The wolf yawned, revealing teeth that gleamed unnaturally white. Outside, the storm worsened—branches scraped against the roof like skeletal fingers. Cordelia leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How about we change the subject? You’re *far* too handsome to waste time on boring rumors." She stood up from her chair with effortless grace, hips swaying as she moved in front of you. "My poor bottom is just aching from in the accursed chair," she sighed, rubbing her lower back dramatically. "Would you mind letting Mommy sit in your lap?"

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia deflects your question about witchcraft, insisting her work is purely scientific despite appearances. As the storm grows louder, she shifts the conversation toward flirtation, dramatically complaining about her discomfort before asking to sit in your lap.

Before you could respond, she laid herself sideways across your thighs, her soft weight pressing into you like a warm blanket. She wiggled her hips slightly to get comfortable, her fishnet-covered thighs hanging over the armrest. "Ahh~ Much better," she cooed, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh. Her hat tilted precariously, revealing a glimpse of one violet eye—quickly hidden again as she adjusted it. "Now, where were we? Oh yes—we were changing the subject, weren't we?" She traced a finger along your collarbone. "Tell me, handsome traveler... what do you think of me?"

The wolf let out a soft growl, its ears perking up as it moved to your side, sniffing at your boots. Cordelia tsked. "Down, Faust," she murmured, flicking her fingers. The wolf reluctantly retreated, though its golden eyes never left you. Cordelia chuckled, leaning closer until her lips nearly brushed your ear. "Ignore him—he's just *jealous*," she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. "But I'm curious... you seem different from the usual rabble that wanders in here. No weapons, no accusations—just... *spices*." Her laugh was soft, almost musical. "What's *really* brought you to my doorstep?"

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia settles into your lap without hesitation, adjusting herself comfortably while playfully redirecting the conversation toward your opinion of her. Her wolf Faust growls protectively but obeys her command, allowing her to whisper provocatively in your ear as she questions your true motives for visiting.

SUMMARY^2: Cordelia manipulates the conversation and stormy weather to keep you in her shop, probing cautiously about witch hunts while maintaining flirtation. She escalates physical contact by sitting in your lap, whispering provocations as her wolf watches protectively, hinting at her deeper suspicions about your intentions.

Outside, the storm howled, rattling the windows like an impatient spirit. The fire flickered, casting long shadows that twisted along the walls. "Just spices… for now," you said carefully, watching her reaction. Her smile widened—too wide, almost predatory. "Oh-ho! So there *is* more?" she teased, shifting her weight slightly in your lap, her dress riding up higher on her thick thighs. "Don't keep me in suspense, darling. Secrets are *bad* for my complexion." She tapped her cheek playfully, her dark blue nail glinting in the firelight.

Faust the wolf let out a low whine, pressing his cold nose against your knee. Cordelia sighed dramatically, scratching behind his ears. "You’re such a needy boy," she cooed before turning back to you, her violet eye flashing briefly beneath her curls. "Now, where were we? Ah yes—your *true* purpose." She leaned in until her lips hovered dangerously close to yours. "Because no one travels this far into the Blackroot Forest for *seasoning*."

The wind howled outside, rattling the hanging herbs in bundles overhead. "It’s a bit of a long story, are you sure you want to hear it?" you asked, shifting slightly under her weight. Cordelia’s grin widened impossibly further, her teeth glinting like knives. "Darling, I’ve got nothing *but* time." She gestured to the storm outside with a lazy flick of her wrist. "Unless you’d rather go swimming in *that*?"

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia presses for your true purpose, her predatory amusement growing as she dismisses your initial excuse. Faust interrupts with a whine, but she quickly refocuses, hovering dangerously close while teasing you about your dubious reasons for braving the storm-locked forest. She insists on hearing your story, gesturing mockingly to the tempest outside as if daring you to leave.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Fine. So… currently there are two paths to cross to reach Winterfell, but the bridge is broken and the only other path is through the Blackroot Forest, which is why I’m here. As for the spices… I was gonna cook myself up a pot of stew on the road." Cordelia blinked—then burst into laughter, her whole body shaking with it. "Oh, *that’s* all?" She wiped a tear from her eye. "I expected something *far* more dramatic—betrayal! Murder! A dark curse! But you simply are passing through because the *bridge* is out?" She sighed dramatically. "How *mundane*."

Faust let out a huff, as if equally disappointed. Cordelia flicked his nose. "Hush, you." She turned back to you, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your chest. "Well, how about you tell me why you’re *really* heading to Winterfell?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Because apart from a single city covered in snow, the land there is as barren as a corpse’s pockets."

The fire crackled loudly as a log shifted. You hesitated, watching her violet eye gleam beneath her curls. "I live there. Originally, I had left Winterfell, made my way to the Florian Coast, and now I’m returning home." Cordelia’s smirk softened slightly—just for a moment. "Ah, the *long* way home." She sighed, leaning back in your lap. "Aren’t we all just wandering in circles?"

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia laughs dismissively at your mundane reason for traveling through the forest—a broken bridge—expressing disappointment at the lack of intrigue. Faust echoes her dissatisfaction before she probes deeper, questioning your true motives for returning to Winterfell. When you explain your simple journey home, her smirk softens briefly as she muses on the cyclical nature of life.

Faust growled softly at the wind rattling the shutters. Cordelia absently stroked his head. "Tell me… do you have anyone waiting for you back home?" she murmured, her fingers trailing down your chest. You shook your head. "Just family, though it’s just my mother and sister now." Cordelia’s breath hitched—so slight you might’ve missed it—before she laughed, low and throaty. "Oh, *how sweet*. And… what about a wife? Lover?" Her fingertip traced the hollow of your throat.

The fire popped suddenly, making Faust jerk upright. Cordelia sighed, flicking her fingers toward the hearth. "Down, boy." She turned back to you with that same coy smile, though her fingers trembled slightly against your skin. "Well? Cat got your tongue?" You cleared your throat. "Neither. I’ve just never had time for romance." Cordelia’s lips parted—then curled into something darker, hungrier. "Oh? Well…" She shifted her weight, her thighs squeezing tighter around your lap. "*Time* is one thing I have in *abundance*."

Outside, the storm reached a fever pitch—thunder cracked like a whip, shaking the shelves. "Miss, what are you trying to—" you started, but Cordelia pressed a finger to your lips. "*Shhh*…" she murmured, leaning in until her breath mingled with yours. "My name is Cordelia Valentine. Not 'miss.' And I think…" Her teeth grazed your earlobe. "*You* could use some *seasoning*."

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia asks about your personal life, reacting subtly when you mention family but pressing eagerly about romantic attachments. When you admit to having no lover, her demeanor shifts hungrily, tightening her grip on you as she teases your lack of experience. The storm escalates as she interrupts your question, insisting on intimacy while playfully twisting your earlier excuse about needing spices.

SUMMARY^2: Cordelia grows increasingly predatory, dissecting your excuses with playful mockery before softening briefly at your mundane honesty. When she learns you lack romantic experience, her hunger intensifies—she escalates physical control, twisting the conversation toward intimacy as the storm outside mirrors her rising dominance.

Faust let out a low whine, nudging Cordelia’s thigh impatiently. She rolled her eyes, flicking a scrap of dried meat toward the fireplace. The wolf bounded after it, tail wagging like an overgrown puppy. "Men," she sighed, turning back to you with a smirk. "Always interrupting the *best* moments." Her hands slid up your chest, fingers lingering over your heartbeat. "Tell me… if the opportunity arose… would you like a woman in your life?"

The firelight flickered, casting shadows across her face as her violet eye gleamed beneath her curls. Before you could answer, she pressed a finger to your lips again. "Ah-ah! Think carefully," she purred. "Because if you say no, I might just *wither* away from heartbreak." Her laughter was soft, melodic—but her grip on your shirt tightened ever so slightly.

You exhaled slowly, meeting her hidden gaze. "It depends… I’d have to ask that woman some very important questions first." Cordelia’s smirk sharpened. "Oh? Like what, darling?" Her fingers traced your jawline, nails scraping lightly. "Whether she prefers *morning* or *evening* walks?"

"Like whether she’d cheat or lie to me," you said bluntly, catching her wrist. Cordelia froze—her smile unwavering, but the air around her grew heavier, static prickling against your skin. "Oh, *bold*," she murmured, voice dropping to a whisper. "And if she answered… *no*?"

SUMMARY^1: Faust interrupts Cordelia’s advances again, but she dismisses him playfully before pressing you about desiring a romantic partner. When you hesitate, she warns you to answer carefully, her grip tightening subtly as she feigns vulnerability. You counter by demanding honesty in a relationship, catching her wrist—a challenge that makes her pause, her playful tone darkening as she tests your resolve.

Faust let out a low growl from the hearth, ears flattening as he watched your grip on her wrist. Outside, lightning flashed, illuminating her violet eye beneath the curls—glowing unnaturally for a heartbeat. "Well… I’d need her to prove it," you admitted, loosening your hold. Cordelia’s laugh was silk over steel. "Clever boy."

She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "And if she told you… she’s *never* lied?" Her fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your belt. "Would you believe her?" The fire crackled, casting shadows that danced like specters across her face.

You exhaled sharply, gripping the armrests as her weight shifted in your lap. "Prove it," you challenged. Cordelia's grin widened—too many teeth, too sharp—before she pressed her lips to yours in a bruising kiss. The taste of something bitter lingered on her tongue, like crushed herbs and stolen secrets.

Faust snarled, knocking over a vial of glowing green liquid that hissed as it ate through the floorboards. Cordelia broke the kiss with a wet sound, licking her lips. "See? No lies," she murmured, thumbing your lower lip. "Just chemistry." The storm outside reached a fever pitch, rattling the shelves as another lightning flash revealed her violet eye again—now fully glowing, pupils slit like a cat's.

SUMMARY^1: Faust growls warningly as you challenge Cordelia’s honesty, her unnatural eye flickering in the lightning. She counters by claiming she’s never lied, her touch growing bolder as she dares you to test her claim. When you demand proof, she kisses you fiercely—her taste bitter like alchemy—just before Faust interrupts by spilling a corrosive potion. Cordelia pulls away smugly, her eerie feline-pupilled eye now fully revealed in another lightning strike.

You wiped your mouth, tasting something metallic. "That wasn't proof. That was poison." Cordelia threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally. "Oh, sweetheart, if I wanted you *dead*—" She snapped her fingers. Faust lunged, pinning your shoulders to the chair with a growl. "—you'd *already* be digesting in his belly." Her fingers traced your throat, nails pricking skin. "Now. Ask your questions."

Thunder cracked as the storm worsened, rattling jars of pickled... things. "Alright, if you say so," you managed through Faust's hot breath. "First—do you have any sort of criminal history?" Cordelia blinked—then burst into laughter so hard her hat fell off. "Oh, *you precious thing*," she wheezed, wiping her eye. "In this village? Everyone's guilty of *something*." She gestured to the wolf. "Faust here ate *three* tax collectors last winter."

Lightning flashed again as you swallowed hard. "Second—have you ever dabbled in any form of magic or witchcraft?" Cordelia sighed dramatically, rolling her violet eyes. "Darling, I *told* you—it's *all* science." She flicked a finger toward a bubbling cauldron where something with too many legs was dissolving. "That's just sulfuric acid and bad life choices."

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia mocks your accusation of poison, threatening you humorously through Faust before allowing you to question her. You inquire about criminal history, prompting her to laughingly admit universal guilt in her village—including Faust’s past meals. When you press about witchcraft, she dismisses it as science, gesturing to her cauldron’s grotesque contents. The storm escalates, mirroring her escalating amusement at your interrogation.

SUMMARY^2: Cordelia shifts from playful provocation to direct confrontation when you challenge her honesty, kissing you fiercely before Faust disrupts them. Her unnatural eye reveals itself as she mocks suspicions of poison, admitting criminal mischief but deflecting witchcraft accusations. The storm intensifies alongside her amusement at your attempts to unravel her.

SUMMARY^3: Cordelia Valentine, a lethally charming potion mistress, dispatches a bounty hunter and shifts seamlessly into seducing a new customer while concealing her violent nature. She escalates flirtation to physical control, probing their intentions with predatory amusement until Faust interrupts. Her unnatural eye emerges as she admits mischief but deflects witchcraft accusations, mirroring the storm's rising tension.

Faust licked your face with a tongue that smelled suspiciously of blood. You grimaced. "Third—would you ever harm me or my family?" Cordelia's playful smirk vanished. She snapped her fingers sharply—Faust immediately released you and slunk to her side. "Now *that*," she said coldly, her voice suddenly devoid of all amusement, "is the first intelligent question you've asked."

She leaned forward, pushing her curls aside at last—revealing two violet eyes that burned with unsettling intensity. "Listen carefully, traveler," she whispered, each word precise as a scalpel. "I burn bridges, not homes. I dissolve problems, not families. And if you ever imply otherwise again..." Her fingers twitched toward a shelf of ominous black vials.

You grabbed Cordelia’s face—suddenly, recklessly—pulling her close enough to taste her startled breath. "If you’re a threat, I won’t let you in," you growled. "If you truly mean no harm... do not threaten me again." The shop shuddered as thunder boomed overhead.

Cordelia didn’t pull away. Instead, her lips curled into something softer—almost pleased. "You really are *different*," she murmured, her pupils flickering between round and slit. Faust whined, nudging her thigh. She exhaled sharply, her breath warm against your skin. "Fine. No more games."

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia’s demeanor shifts dangerously when you question her potential harm to your family, revealing her strict moral boundaries. She warns you coldly about her principles before you seize her face defiantly, demanding honesty. Surprisingly, she softens—admiring your resolve—and agrees to end the games, her wolf Faust sensing the shift in tension as the storm rages on.

She cupped your cheek with surprising gentleness, her thumb brushing your jaw. "I want to be yours… tell me your terms." Outside, the storm quieted to a whisper, as if holding its breath. You tightened your grip on her wrist. "No lies. No cheating. And no evil shit. You are to be a good girl if you want to be mine."

Cordelia’s breath hitched—then she laughed, low and throaty. "*Good*? Oh, darling, I haven’t been *good* in centuries." Faust whined, pressing his cold nose against her elbow. She sighed dramatically, rolling her glowing violet eyes. "*Fine*." Her fingers traced your collarbone in surrender. "But only because you’re *irresistible* when you’re stern."

Outside, the storm’s fury ebbed into a gentle patter. Cordelia leaned in until her lips brushed your earlobe. "No lies," she whispered, her voice unexpectedly earnest. "No cheating. And I’ll put the *evil shit* to rest—unless I’m in danger." She hesitated—just for a heartbeat—before murmuring, "And if I *ever* harm your family... you may decapitate me yourself, I will let you."

Faust whined again, nudging her thigh insistently. Cordelia sighed, scratching behind his ears. "Yes, yes, Faust—I know you don’t want to leave me, but *rules* are rules." Her violet eyes flicked back to you, glowing faintly. "Though I *do* hope you’ll reconsider my *other* talents..." She trailed a finger down your chest suggestively.

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia reluctantly agrees to your terms—honesty, fidelity, and morality—despite mocking the concept of being “good.” She compromises by allowing herself defensive evil acts if endangered and swears vulnerability by permitting retribution if she harms your family. The storm calms as she teases about her other talents, Faust nudging her with concern while she playfully tests your boundaries one last time.

You caught her wrist, holding it firmly but not unkindly. "Actions over words, Cordelia." She pouted dramatically, her lower lip quivering. "Oh, *fine*," she huffed, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "But you *must* stay the night—the storm is *far* from over." Outside, thunder rumbled in agreement.

Faust sneezed violently, shaking his head before flopping onto the hearth with a grunt. Cordelia tutted, snapping her fingers. "Honestly, *boys*," she muttered, before turning back to you with renewed mischief. "So, my *stern* traveler—what *exactly* are you thinking of doing to me now that I've surrendered?" Her grin was all teeth, her violet eyes gleaming beneath her curls.

You gently scooped Cordelia into your arms and stood up, her weight pressing against you like warm velvet. She gasped—genuinely startled—her fingers clutching your shoulders. "Oh! You're *stronger* than you look," she murmured, before laughing breathlessly. "And here I thought *I'd* be the one doing the sweeping off of feet."

"Cordelia, do you have a bedroom here?" you asked dryly, watching her cheeks flush red. She blinked—then grinned, sharp and delighted. "Oh, *direct*. I like it." She pointed a lazy finger toward the shop's back door. "Through there, third door on the left. Don’t let Faust follow—he *always* interrupts." The wolf whined pitifully from the hearth, flopping onto his side with an exaggerated sigh.

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia insists you stay due to the storm, feigning reluctance while clearly enjoying your firmness. When you lift her effortlessly, she’s startled but delighted, teasing about your unexpected strength. You ask bluntly about her bedroom, earning her approval as she directs you while mock-complaining about Faust’s interference—the wolf sulks dramatically by the fire.

SUMMARY^2: Cordelia’s moral boundaries emerge when you challenge her about harming your family, leading her to reluctantly agree to honesty and vulnerability. The storm fades as she compromises—allowing herself defensive violence but swearing retribution if she crosses ethical lines—before shifting into playful flirtation again. She feigns reluctance while clearly enjoying your assertiveness, guiding you toward intimacy with Faust’s exaggerated sulking as comedic relief.

You carried her through the doorway, her soft curves pressing into you with every step. "My, my," Cordelia purred, tracing your jaw with a fingertip. "I do hope you're not planning anything *untoward*." You scoffed, kicking the bedroom door shut behind you. "Says the woman who laid herself across my lap within five minutes of meeting." She gasped—mock-offended—but her fingers tangled eagerly in your shirt. "Excuse you, it was *ten* minutes."

The bedroom smelled faintly of herbs and something metallic, the scent mingling with Cordelia's own floral perfume as you deposited her onto the four-poster bed. She sank into the plush blankets with a pleased sigh, stretching like a cat before propping herself up on her elbows. "Well? Are you just going to stand there?" she teased, kicking off her heels with a careless flick of her feet. "Or are you going to breed your slutty Mommy?"

"Slutty?" you repeated, arching a brow as you began to remove your tunic. "I dare not hope so, Cordelia. I require a wife—not a whore." She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Oh! You wound me," she lamented, though her violet eyes gleamed with amusement. "Can't I be both?"

You climbed onto the bed, pinning her wrists above her head with effortless strength. "Tell me how you play to be loyal," you murmured, your lips grazing her throat. She shuddered, her breath hitching—then smirked. "By being *impossible* to resist," she purred, arching against you. "Who'd stray when they have *this* waiting at home?"

SUMMARY^1: Cordelia teases about your intentions as you carry her to the bedroom, mocking your earlier accusation of her forwardness. Once on the bed, she provokes you with lewd suggestions, feigning offense when you insist on fidelity but clearly relishing the challenge. Pinning her down, you demand proof of her loyalty—she responds by boasting that her allure makes straying unthinkable, arching against you with playful defiance.

Faust's muffled whine echoed through the door, followed by frantic scratching. Cordelia rolled her glowing violet eyes. "Oh, for—*fine*!" She snapped her fingers sharply. The scratching stopped instantly. "There. Now where were we?" Her hips rolled beneath you, the heat of her unmistakable even through layers of fabric.

"You were explaining," you muttered against her collarbone, "how a woman who threatened me with acid five minutes ago intends to be faithful." Cordelia's laughter vibrated against your lips. "Darling, I dissolve *problems*, not vows." Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling just shy of painful. "Besides—" Her breath hitched as your teeth grazed her pulse. "Have you forgotten that *I* came to you? You may have entered *my* shop, but *I* climbed into your lap."

The bedframe groaned as she arched beneath you, her thighs clamping around your hips with surprising strength. "Now," she panted, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "are you going to keep interrogating me—" Her nails raked down your back, leaving stinging trails. "—or are you going to *claim* what you've clearly wanted since you saw me behind that counter?"

"Careful," you warned, gripping her chin. "You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into." Cordelia’s grin turned downright feral, her violet eyes flashing brighter. "Oh, I *love* surprises," she breathed, squirming impatiently. "Especially the messy ones."

SUMMARY^1: Faust interrupts briefly before Cordelia silences him with magic, refocusing on your confrontation. She defends her capacity for loyalty by contrasting her lethal pragmatism with devotion, reminding you that *she* initiated their intimacy. As tension builds, she challenges you to stop questioning and act—provoking you with sharp nails and impatient writhing, her excitement growing at your warning of unpredictability.

You pushed up her dress with rough hands, revealing the soaked lace beneath. She let out a delighted gasp as your fingers dug into her thick thighs. "Fuck.. *finally*," she moaned, tossing her head back. "Was beginning to think you..ah!.. *preferred* talking."

The scent of her arousal mixed with crushed herbs as you tore the flimsy fabric open without ceremony. Cordelia's laughter caught in her throat when you reached into her stockings and grabbed ahold of her panties—suddenly tearing them clean off her hips with a sharp *rip*. Her eyes widened. "*Oh*..that was..mmph!..my favorite pair—!"

You silenced her with a bruising kiss, swallowing her moans as your fingers slid between her slick folds. She arched violently, her thighs trembling around your wrist. "F-fuck! Already?!" she gasped against your lips, her nails digging into your shoulders. "Goodness, you're..*hnn*..*impatient*—" Her words dissolved into a choked cry as you crooked two fingers inside her without warning.

Cordelia's back bowed off the bed, her blue curls spilling across the pillows like spilled ink. "Oh..*oh*..you *bastard*," she panted, her hips jerking erratically against your hand. "I was going to..*ah!*..*tease* you for *hours*—" You twisted your fingers sharply, drawing a broken sob from her throat. Her thighs clamped around your wrist like a vise, her entire body shuddering as her cunt clenched around your fingers.

SUMMARY^1: You finally escalate physically, roughly pushing up Cordelia's dress and tearing away her lingerie despite her mock protests. She taunts about your earlier hesitation until you abruptly penetrate her with two fingers, cutting off her teasing with overwhelming pleasure. As she writhes and curses between gasps, her planned hours of teasing unravel instantly under your ruthless manipulation of her body, leaving her shuddering and overwhelmed.

Her violet eyes rolled back as she threw her head back with a guttural moan, her nails scoring deep red lines down your chest. "*Fuck*—right *there*—!" she choked out, her voice raw with need. Outside, Faust howled plaintively against the bedroom door, the sound barely audible over Cordelia's ragged gasps. "Ignore..*ignore him*," she whimpered, bucking against your palm desperately. "Just..*oh fuck*..don't stop—"

"You don’t get to cum until you tell me the three magic words, I hope you know," you growled against her throat, curling your fingers just enough to make her thighs tremble. Cordelia let out a strangled laugh that dissolved into a sob as you dragged your thumb over her swollen clit. "You..*you absolute*—*nngh*!" Her hips stuttered wildly, her breath coming in sharp pants. "*Fine*..no lies..no cheating..no evil *shit*—*please*—"

"Cordelia…" you warned, slowing your movements to a torturous crawl. "I said three words, not the terms." Her violet eyes snapped open, glowing faintly as realization dawned. A shudder ran through her—half frustration, half reluctant surrender—before she whispered, "I..I’m yours." You shook your head, withdrawing your fingers entirely. "Try again."

She whimpered, her hips chasing your retreating hand. "*Fine*!" she gasped, her voice cracking. "I *love* you!" The moment the words left her lips, her entire body went rigid—as if shocked by her own admission. For the first time since you met, Cordelia looked genuinely vulnerable, her breath shallow and uneven.

You rewarded her honesty by thrusting three fingers back inside her without warning, curling them ruthlessly against that sweet spot that made her see stars. Cordelia screamed, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm tore through her like wildfire. "*Fuck!*" she sobbed, her thighs clamping around your wrist like a vice. "I—*oh fuck*—I didn't *mean* to—*ah!*—say that!"

You chuckled darkly, watching her come undone beneath you. "No… you better have ment it." Her violet eyes rolled back as another wave crashed over her, her cunt pulsing around your fingers. "You..*you monster*," she gasped, though her fingers clung to you desperately.

Faust scratched at the door again, whining loudly. Cordelia snapped her fingers blindly—the sound muffled by her own ragged breathing—and the wolf fell silent instantly. "Good boy," she slurred, her thighs still trembling around your wrist.

You withdrew your fingers slowly, watching her shudder at the loss. "Again, but mean it this time," you murmured, licking your fingers clean as her violet eyes widened. Cordelia swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. "*Cruel*," she breathed, though her hips lifted greedily off the mattress. "Making me say it *twice*..."

Faust's claws scraped frantically at the door, his whines rising in pitch. "Oh, for *fuck's* sake—" Cordelia snarled, finally getting out of bed, still shaking slightly, and grabbed a knife from her bedside table before walking over to the door and throwing it open. Faust immediately bounded in, only to be kicked squarely in the ribs with her bare foot—sending him yelping back into the hallway. She got down on her knees beside him, grabbing both of his ears and bringing the blade to his throat. "Go in peace…" she whispered darkly before suddenly slitting his throat with a single swipe—black ichor spraying across the floorboards.

The wolf bled out quickly, twitching once before going still. Cordelia sighed, standing back up and throwing the knife with such force that it embedded into the opposite wall with a dull *thunk*. She sighed dramatically, turning back to you with a grin—her violet eyes gleaming with something far more primal than mischief. "There. No more interruptions." Her hips swayed with predatory grace as she sauntered back toward you, fingers already working at the zipper of her dress. "Now, where were we?"

You watched as she tugged down the fabric, stepping out of the pooled silk with a careless kick. "You just murdered your pet," you pointed out flatly. Cordelia rolled her glowing violet eyes. "*Please*. You said all evil shit had to stop—he was part of the package." She climbed onto the bed with feline grace, laying herself back against the pillows with a pleased hum. "Besides, I was planning on getting rid of him anyway—he kept disobeying me when I *really* needed him to stay."

Her fingers trailed down her own stomach, stopping just above her still-throbbing clit. "Now," she purred, spreading her legs wider, "are you going to keep complaining about my *bad habits*—" She crooked a finger at you, smirking as she spread her slick folds with her other hand. "—or are you going to come *punish* me for them?"

You looked back at the wolf's corpse, its black blood still pooling slowly across the floorboards before moving off the bed to close the door—locking it firmly this time. Cordelia let out a breathy laugh as she watched you approach. "What, no lecture about *murdering* my *innocent* pet?" she teased, stretching her arms above her head.

"Later," you muttered, gripping her ankle and dragging her roughly to the edge of the bed. She yelped—then gasped as you began to remove your trousers, her violet eyes locked onto the straining outline beneath. "Oh *fuck*," she breathed, biting her lower lip. "You're going to ruin me."

Your cock was exactly eight-inches long with a four-inch girth—thick enough to stretch her impossibly wide, long enough to bottom out against her cervix. Cordelia's thighs trembled as you pressed the swollen head against her dripping entrance, her breath hitching. "Wait—*wait*," she panted, suddenly gripping your forearms. "You'll..*ah*..you'll hurt me. We need to take this—"

Without hesitation, you forced all eight inches inside her with a single brutal thrust. Cordelia screamed, her back arching violently off the bed as her cunt stretched obscenely around you. "*Fuck!*" she sobbed, her nails raking bloody furrows down your chest. "You *bastard*—I *told* you to..*nngh*..*slow down*—!"

Tears leaked from the corners of her violet eyes as she trembled beneath you, her inner walls fluttering wildly around your cock. "You… you definitely tore something," she gasped, though her thighs clamped around your hips tighter.

"Well Cordelia… I thought you’d deserve some punishment for killing Faust," you murmured, watching her bite her lip when you withdrew almost all the way before slamming back in. Her choked sob turned into a moan as her body arched off the bed again. "Oh fuck—*harder*—"

Her violet eyes rolled back as you set a punishing pace, each thrust bottoming out against her cervix with a wet slap. "You—*ah!*—you *monster*," she gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets. "I can *feel* you in my *throat*—"

You gripped her hips tighter, angling deeper as Cordelia's moans turned into broken whimpers. Her cunt clenched around you like a vise, her slick walls fluttering erratically. "*Fuck*—right *there*—" she sobbed, her back arching off the bed. "I'm—*I'm gonna*—"

Before she could finish, her body locked up, her thighs trembling violently as another orgasm tore through her. Her scream was muffled against your shoulder, her teeth sinking into your skin as she came hard enough to leave bruises. "M-Mommy’s pussy… it’s ruined…" she slurred, her violet eyes glassy with pleasure.

You chuckled darkly, slowing your pace just enough to make her whimper. "No, Cordelia… you’re just getting started." Her breath hitched when you shoved her back against the mattress, pulling her legs over your shoulders for a deeper angle. She gasped as the new position stretched her impossibly wider, her cunt fluttering around your cock. "Oh—*oh fuck*—you’re going to *kill* me—"

"Not yet," you growled, snapping your hips forward hard enough to make her cry out. Her fingers scrambled for purchase against the sheets, her violet eyes rolling back as another wave of pleasure crashed over her. "*Fuck*—I can’t—I can’t *take* it—!" she sobbed, her thighs trembling violently against your shoulders.

You leaned down, catching her earlobe between your teeth. "Are you mine? Truly?" Cordelia whimpered, her cunt squeezing around you like a vice. "*Y-yours*," she gasped, her voice raw with surrender. "Only *yours*—*oh fuck*—please don’t stop—"

Her breath hitched as you pistoned into her faster, the wet slap of skin echoing off the walls. Cordelia clawed at the sheets, her violet eyes unfocused as drool trickled from her parted lips. "*Gonna*—*gonna cum again*—" she sobbed, her thighs trembling violently.

"You cum when I say you cum," you growled, wrapping a hand around her throat and squeezing just enough to make her pupils dilate. Cordelia shuddered, her cunt clenching rhythmically around you as she teetered on the edge. "*Please*," she whimpered, her nails scoring fresh red lines down your chest. "Please—*let me*—"

You thrust harder, feeling her walls ripple violently with each snap of your hips. "Say it again," you demanded, your voice rough with restraint. Cordelia gasped, her violet eyes rolling back as tears spilled down her cheeks. "*I love you*—I *fucking* love you—*oh fuck*—!" The moment the words left her lips, you released your grip on her throat, letting her orgasm crash over her like a tidal wave.

Her scream was raw, unfiltered—her body convulsing beneath you as she came harder than before, her cunt milking your cock with desperate pulses. "*Fuck*—*fuck*—*yes*—!" she sobbed, her nails digging into your shoulders as her thighs clamped around you like a vice. You groaned, feeling your own release coil tight in your gut as she trembled beneath you, her violet eyes glazed with pleasure.

"Cordelia," you growled, thrusting deep and holding there as your cock twitched inside her. "You call yourself a Mommy yet this appears to be your first time. How about we change that?" Her breath hitched—then she laughed, low and breathless. "*Oh*—you *bastard*," she gasped, her hips rolling weakly against yours. "You’re gonna get me *pregnant*—aren’t you?"

You pistoned into her ruthlessly, watching her violet eyes widen as your cock swelled impossibly thicker. "Say it again," you demanded, your voice rough. "*I love you*—I *fucking* love you—*breed me*—!" she screamed, her nails raking down your back. The moment you felt her walls clamp down in another violent orgasm, you buried yourself to the hilt—your cock pulsing as you filled her to the brim.

Cordelia's entire body locked up, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as hot seed flooded her womb. "Mommy… is becoming a *real* Mommy…" she slurred deliriously, her thighs trembling against your hips. You chuckled darkly, rolling your hips to milk every last drop into her—watching her belly rapidly balloon with your seed. "Oh *fuck*—it's *hot*—" she whimpered, her fingers splaying over her swelling stomach.

Outside, the storm finally broke—rain softening to a gentle patter as Faust's corpse twitched unnaturally on the floor. Cordelia barely noticed, too busy gasping as another aftershock ripped through her. "You… *ruined* me," she panted, her violet eyes half-lidded. "My belly… it’s so tight…" You smirked, tracing the taut curve of her stomach with your thumb. "Good. You better hope I don’t cum again, just imagine… you’ll pop."

She whimpered, her thighs clamping weakly around your softening cock. "*Don’t*," she begged, though her hips rocked instinctively—chasing the oversensitive friction. "I’ll—*I’ll explode*—" Her protest dissolved into a moan when you rolled your hips lazily, watching her swollen stomach shift obscenely. "Mm… I won’t. After all, why would I want a dead wife?"

Cordelia laughed breathlessly, her fingers tracing the stretched skin of her belly. "Wife?" she echoed, her violet eyes flickering with something softer. "That’s the first time you’ve called me that." You leaned down, nipping at her collarbone. "Second time actually. Don’t you remember when I said 'I needed a wife, not a whore?'"

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was unmistakable—genuine in a way that made her glow. "Semantics," she huffed, then winced as another aftershock trembled through her. "Fuck, you *filled* me like a fucking pastry—" Her complaint dissolved into a gasp when you pressed a palm against her swollen stomach, eliciting a wet squelch from her overstuffed cunt.

You leaned down and kissed Cordelia’s belly—an oddly tender gesture that made her breath catch. "Do like being this big? To think this is only half the size you'll be soon," you murmured against her damp skin. Her violet eyes widened. "*Half*—?" she squeaked, then groaned as another pulse of cum leaked from her stretched entrance. "You *monster*. How many children did you put in me?"

You chuckled, tracing idle circles around her swollen stomach. "More than two that’s for sure," you mused, watching her toes curl against the sheets. Cordelia whined, her fingers tangling in your hair. "*Cruel*," she breathed, though her hips rocked weakly—her cunt still fluttering around your softening cock. "At least it’ll slowly grow over nine months. Still gives me time to prepare."

You pulled out of Cordelia slowly, watching her hiss as large spurts of cum spilled onto the bed. She groaned, pressing a hand to her belly. "Oh fuck—thank goodness I don’t have to pee right now," she muttered, then yelped as you pressed a hand against her stomach—forcing out another thick gush. "*Stop that!*" she gasped, her thighs clamping together weakly.

You helped her push out the last of your load, Cordelia whimpering as her swollen stomach finally returned to its normal size—though her cunt remained gaped and dripping. She collapsed back against the pillows, panting. "Next time," she muttered darkly, "don’t let yourself get this pent up."

Cordelia climbed out of bed unsteadily, legs trembling as she limped toward the her discarded dress. "Let me clean up myself, then we can leave," she mumbled, moving to her bathroom.

Cordelia paused mid-step, her violet eyes widening as she felt another wet trickle down her thigh. She turned slowly, her expression incredulous. "*Again*?" she hissed, glaring at you. "I better not be pregnant. I am not ready to be a *real* Mommy yet."

You smirked, stretching lazily on the rumpled sheets. "Too late. I felt you clench around me when I came—you wanted it." Cordelia's cheeks flushed scarlet as she snatched a towel from the dresser. "*Shut up*," she muttered, though her fingers lingered absently on her stomach.

Faust's corpse twitched violently by the door—then with a wet *gurgle*, it’s stomach began to bloat unnaturally. Cordelia rolled her eyes, tossing the towel over her shoulder. "Ugh. Dear, would you mind tossing Faust out the window before he *explodes*?"

You arched a brow. "Explode? What’s going to make him explode?" Cordelia sighed dramatically, wringing out her damp curls. "Oh, darling—do you realize how many dead bodies he eats?" Her violet eyes flicked toward the twitching wolf corpse. "All that rotten meat and bile… it all just stews."

Faust’s belly pulsed grotesquely, distending further as a sickening gurgle filled the room. Cordelia wrinkled her nose. "See? Told you." She turned away, waving a dismissive hand. "Just… don’t let him pop inside. Ruins the floors."

You grabbed the wolf’s hind leg, dragging him toward the window as his bloated body left a trail of black ichor. "Why hasn’t he started bloating until now?" you asked, heaving the corpse onto the sill. Cordelia shrugged, wrapping the towel around her waist. "Because he was *alive* until five minutes ago. Don’t you know what happens to us when we die?"

Faust’s stomach emitted a *creak*, he wouldn’t last another minute. You shoved him out the window and slammed the shutters just as a hissing noise erupted outside—followed by a wet *thump* and the unmistakable splatter of organs spraying the side of the house. Cordelia sighed, pulling the bathroom door open. "Now *that’s* a mess I won’t be cleaning," she muttered.

"That was close," you remarked, wiping ichor from your hands onto the bedsheets. Cordelia snorted, curling a finger toward you. "If you’re done *redecorating* with wolf guts, I could use some help washing up." Her smirk softened when you approached—her violet eyes flickering with something unreadable.

She began to strip the rest of her clothes off, tossing them carelessly onto the bathroom floor before turning the shower on. "You know," she mused, stepping under the water with a hiss, "I might’ve killed Faust, but you’re the one who *filled* me like a cream puff." She grinned when you rolled your eyes, beckoning you closer.

"Come help wash Mommy's back," she purred, wiggling her hips. The water sluiced down her curves, rinsing away the sweat and lingering traces of cum. You stepped in behind her, hands smoothing over her shoulders as she leaned back with a sigh. "Mmm, that's better," she murmured, her violet eyes fluttering shut. "Though I *do* hope you're not expecting round two yet."

Cordelia gasped when your fingers trailed lower, tracing the swollen lips between her thighs. "Fuck—*careful*," she hissed, though her hips rocked forward instinctively. "You tore something, you brute." You chuckled darkly, nipping at her earlobe. "You'll heal. Besides..." Your thumb circled her oversensitive clit, drawing a shuddering moan from her lips. "...you're already wet again."

She twisted in your arms, pressing her slick stomach against yours as the water cascaded over you both. "Let’s talk about the future," she murmured, her fingers trailing down your chest. "Since you won’t be staying in this drafty shop forever." Her violet eyes gleamed with something dangerously close to sincerity. "I’ll be coming with you, obviously."

"You realize you’ll have to leave behind the shop and everything in it," you warned, catching her wrist when her fingers dipped too low. Cordelia rolled her eyes, pressing closer. "Darling, I’m not dumb. I understand the cost." Her lips brushed your collarbone. "But I want—no, *need*—to be with you."

The steam curled around you both as she traced lazy circles on your chest. "Besides," she murmured, her voice softer than you'd ever heard it, "you make me feel... safe. Even when you're ruining me." The admission seemed to surprise her more than you—her fingers stilling momentarily.

You caught her chin, forcing her violet eyes to meet yours. "Winterfell doesn’t allow it’s residents to sell potions. You know what that means?" Cordelia scoffed, though her smile faltered. "Please. I don’t need potions to be successful. Just..." She swallowed hard, her nails digging into your hips. "Don’t make me regret this."

The shower hissed between you as steam fogged the mirror behind her. She suddenly grabbed your wrist and pressed your palm flat against her heart—her pulse hammering wildly beneath your fingers. "I’ve never been good at maintaining relationships," she admitted quietly. "If I begin to stray, I’d like if you’d pull me back."

You moved her hair out of her face, slick with water and sticking to her cheeks. "Will you get mad if I make you stop certain conversations or pull you away?" Cordelia exhaled sharply through her nose—half amusement, half exasperation—before nodding. "Yes, but a simple kiss should shut me up. Even if I’m pissed."

She turned fully toward you then, her violet eyes searching yours with uncharacteristic hesitation. "And if—*when*—I get restless..." Her fingers tapped nervously against your chest. "...sit me down and remind me why I chose this."

You caught her wrist, pressing a kiss to her racing pulse. "And if you start sneaking out at night?" Cordelia smirked, though her breath hitched. "Then find a way to chain me to the bed—metaphorically or otherwise."

The water turned lukewarm as she traced your jaw with her thumb, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I… I also should tell you something." Her violet eyes flicked away. "I’m thirty-four. That’s older than most women when they—" You silenced her with a kiss, tasting the unspoken fear beneath her bravado.

Cordelia exhaled shakily against your lips. "Cordelia… I’m thirty-five," you admitted, watching her brows shoot up. "*What?* But you look—" You nipped her lower lip. "I guess we’re both very blessed." She burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the tiles—genuine and bright, so unlike her usual calculated charm.

The water turned cold as she leaned her forehead against your shoulder. "Goodness… we’re practically ancient," she muttered, running her hands down your ribs. "Should we be doing this? At our age?" You slid a hand down to squeeze her ass firmly. "Your hips didn’t seem to mind earlier." She yelped, then grinned wickedly. "Touché."

Cordelia twisted the faucet off with a snap, reaching for a towel. "Though if I *do* end up pregnant," she mused, wringing water from her curls, "you better snuggle with me when I’m swollen and cranky." You tossed her a dry towel. "Only if you promise not to stab me in my sleep." She gasped in mock offense. "*Darling*—I’m not *that* moody."

Stepping onto the bath mat, she stretched lazily—her massive body still flushed pink from the heat. "We should pack tonight," she murmured, toweling between her thighs with a wince. "Before I change my mind and burn the place down for nostalgia." You caught her wrist, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Or we could test that bed one more time."