#and I just think he wants to be so careful and sweet with his baby but he’s terrified of hurting them even more!!!

[xxgoldie]

i’d like to say this is NOT a request i do just be yapping because you're such an inspiration to me!! thinking about a scenario where lighter gets injured protecting his s/o…him downplaying or ignoring his injury until its just the two of you, and when you’re fussing over him and dressing his wounds he’s gently thumbing away your tears and telling you all the sweet nothings about how it’d take a lot more than that to get rid of him, where’s your faith in the red scarf? he’s okay baby it looks worse than it actually is. 

trying to be calm for your sake but he’s so shaken up internally because if he hadn’t jumped in he might’ve lost you…and at the same time, seeing you cry over a guy like him? wrapping him up with such care like he hasn’t broken bodies with his bare hands? he’s so overwhelmed and when you’re done disinfecting and bandaging and try to leave his side for any reason he’s wrapping you up in his big scarred arms and he won't let go for anything. please just stay right here where he can nuzzle against your pulse and smell your shampoo and feel your warmth.

every wet little sniffle from you is met with a kiss from him, he turns your face into a mural for his love, peppering kisses of relief and apology alike across your forehead, temple, cheeks, and nose. and when your lips finally meet it’s like you’re breathing life back into him, he can’t get enough. suddenly nothing is enough. he’s gently coaxing your clothes off because he needs you closer, needs to feel your bare chest against his so he knows your hearts are pounding in tandem. if you try to deny him because of his wounds he’s not afraid to beg, you can ride him as slow and careful as you want he just needs you. ughghgh slow soft emotional sex with lighter where neither of you care about actually getting off has me in a chokehold

i'm,,,,, i'm an inspiration?? anon i will kiss you on the mouth that's like the best thing anyone's ever said to me

the rest of this ask is a close second bc oh my god. soft comfort sex w lighter.

trying so hard to keep it together for him, because he's the one injured, why is he the one comforting you? you're scolding him for being reckless but your heart isn't in it, he sees the way your hands shake as you dress his wounds ever so gently and the tears threatening to spill over, and he's also trying to hold himself together because it doesn't look like you could handle him in any worse state. and that fact alone makes that knot in his chest tighten, how much you care for him, the fact he's lucky enough to love someone so much and have them love him back and he was so close to losing that. he's forcing himself not to think about what would have happened if he'd jumped in just a little later, because the brave face he's putting on is holding on by a thread. he really just wants you as close as possible, needs to feel your skin against skin, needs there to be no doubt that you're still there, and you need the same.

[munsonsmixtapes]

hey is it possible for you to write rockstar eddie on a tour for two days and the reader has been touch starved and when he gets back readers really happy and they have um yk but it’s totally ok if you don’t feel comfortable doing this love you work btwww your so talented 💖💖💖

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it)

It's been months since you've seen Eddie. Since he's been on tour and you've been working, you've haven't had any time to go to one of his shows that was close by or even talk on the phone.

And not seeing him for such a long period of time has led to you being touch starved. You haven't been able to stop thinking about having his hands on you the second you reunite. He's due to be home any minute and you can't wait to see him, to feel his hands on you, to hold him in your arms.

Eddie's been counting down the minutes from the second he woke up. He's constantly been checking his watch since he knows the exact time he's supposed to be home. He just wants to be with his girl and every second that passes that he can't hold you in his arms is another minute he'll spend checking the time.

You hear the front door open and Eddie steps through it, pushing his suitcase aside as he opens his arms wide for you. You jump into them and wrap your legs around his waist as you bury your face into his neck. Eddie holds you tight, one of his hands moving up and down your back as the other holds onto you.

You pull away and stare at him, those pretty, brown eyes that you always love to look into, that hair you love to run your fingers through, to grab onto when he-

"I missed you, baby," he whispers as he leans close, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

"I missed you too," you mumble against his lips. "So much." You don't even have to tell him that but he loves to hear the words, the loving way you say them.

He kisses you again, this time slotting his lips between yours. It's slow and sweet at first but before you know it, Eddie's tongue is in your mouth and he's setting you on the counter, slotting himself between your legs.

"Need your touch. Need your cock," you tell him. "Wanna feel you."

His hands travel down your sweatpants, pushing them down your legs then tossing them somewhere behind him, followed by your panties. Once they're discarded, he removes his own, precum already leaking from his cock that he slides into you as he spreads your legs wide.

"So tight, baby," he groans as he pushes inside you, his hands digging into your hips as he does so. "Didn't take care of yourself while I was gone?" The question is genuine, not mocking like it may seem.

"I couldn't," you tell him between labored breaths as you buck your hips against his. "It just made me think of you and then I got sad."

"You missed me," he says knowingly. "But I bet you missed my cock even more." Eddie slides all of himself inside you and you moan loudly, bucking your hips again, clenching around him as you do so.

"Fuck," you whine as your back arches. "Touch me," you beg. "Please."

He pumps even harder, your moans getting even louder. His hand reaches up your shirt and cups your breast, giving it a squeeze as his lips find yours in a hot kiss, his tongue taking no time to slide into your mouth.

You moan into his mouth as his thumb moves to your nipple, massaging it. His other hand continues to dig into your hip, pulling you even closer and your legs wrap around his waist, your ankles locking at his back.

His pumps continue and you already feel spent having not done this in months. But it's the best you've felt in so long so you don't dare tell him to stop even though you're close to throwing in the towel.

"See?" He asks as he looks down at where the two of you are connected, his his other hand moving to massage your other nipple. "We've still got it. I'm gonna fuck you on every single surface of this apartment until you can't walk. And then I'm going to carry you to bed where we're going to sleep until the afternoon and them I'm gonna do it all again to show you just how much I missed you."

"Yes, please," you moan as he picks you up, his hands grabbing your ass as he carries you to the couch, setting you down on it before lying on top of you, pumping his cock in and out, in and out as you beg for more, scratching up and down his back in response to how good he's making you feel.

"Just like that," you whine, bucking your hips against his again and again, your nails digging into his back, leaving crescent shapes anywhere you can. You're close, you can feel it.

Your eyes roll back and your back arches as you have the best orgasm of your life, Eddie encouraging you as you do, and once you've come down, you push him so he's the one with his back against the couch, fully intent of riding him until he has an orgasm of his own.

And Eddie fulfills his promise of fucking you on every piece of furniture in the apartment, making you come over and over and he does carry you to bed afterwards where he puts you in one of his t-shirts before pulling you to his chest where you fall asleep soundly, knowing that you have your man back in your arms.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

a severe case of the saddies

daddy!chan hurt/comfort

cw: crying, baby talk, pet names (i tried to keep them gender neutral this time bc ive been feeling bad about always using baby girl or princess when i know that doesn’t apply to everyone.)

masterlist

“baby?” his soft voice carried through the closed door, his knuckles softly rapping on the surface. when he received no answer, he turned the knob. he poked his head in. “angel?” his baby voice combined with your favorite pet name, caused tears to spring to your eyes. you squeezed them shut, holding the tears back, though they leaked out of the corners and onto your pillow.

he could just make out your form in the dim light of your shared bedroom, your body under the covers, stuffie hugged tight to your chest and face. you wanted to reach for him, so happy that he was finally home. but you couldn’t force your muscles to work. he crouched down next to the bed, bringing his face level with yours. he used his fingertips to brush the hair out of your face.

“baby are you takin’ a nappie?” he asked, smiling fondly at you.

you shook your head no. though you wanted to take a nap, sleep would not come. so you had been laying there for over an hour.

“is everything okay?” he asked, pouting his full lips in your direction. “are you feeling alright?” he reached out with his index finger and poked the top of your stuffed bear’s head. “is Beary doing his job of chasing the sadness away?”

the tears pooled again at your waterline. you looked up at him, shaking your head no, unable to speak. he took one look at your watery eyes and jutting bottom lip and it broke his heart. “oh my sweet baby..” he cooed. “you got a severe case of the saddies, huh?”

“let me in there.” he gently lifted the blanket, crawling into the bed next to you. you could instantly feel his body heat next to yours, warming your skin. “c’mere baby. let daddy hold you.”

he wrapped his strong arms around you, cradling your head as you buried your face in his chest. you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and they flowed freely down your cheeks. “there you go, baby.” he said, kissing the top of your head. “you’re okay. daddy’s got you.”

he let you cry for a little while, rubbing your back and hair, giving the occasional kiss. you felt better with him there. felt like you could finally let everything out. everything that you’d been holding in for the last few weeks. it all bubbled to the surface and with his arms wrapped around you, you could finally let go.

“my love.. do you want to talk about it?” he asked, softly. he pulled back just enough to look down at you, your eyes red and puffy, you cheeks stained. he used his fingers to wipe at your tears. “my brave little baby.”

“everythi-ing has just been too-o much.” you said, hiccuping, your voice small.

“baby..” he soothed. “you’ve been working so hard, huh? doing such a good job. daddy is so proud of you. but i think you need a rest, yeah? your body is telling you it needs a break.”

you nodded, feeling better after your big cry. you wrapped your arms around his middle and squeezed as hard as you could. “oh so strong.” he giggled. “such a big hug, baby. thank you.” he squeezed you back.

“thank you for always taking care of me.” you said. “you’re the best— the best daddy ever.” your sentence was broken by a big yawn, feeling suddenly sleepy.

“oh my gosh you’re so cute.” he smiled. “gimme a kiss.” his plush lips found yours a few times in quick succession. “you can go to sleep baby. daddy will stay here and keep you safe from the saddies.”

you leaned away for a moment and pulled out Beary from in between your bodies, holding him up.

“oh i think Beary got a little squished.” he giggled. “serves him right for not making you feel better.”

you tucked the bear back under your chin protectively. “he did his best.” you huffed.

“oh well i guess that’s all we can ask for, huh baby?” he pulled you close again, careful not to squish Beary in the process. “and i’m always here to make things better when little Beary isn’t enough, yeah?” he rubbed your back soothingly, your eyes drooping with exhaustion.

“mm.. love you, daddy.” you mumbled against his chest, breathing in his scent.

“i love you too, baby.” he kissed your head and snuggled closer. “now go to sleep, okay? daddy’s here.”

and the weight of the last few weeks melted away, your heart was full, and you finally slipped into blissful unconsciousness, wrapped in the safety and security of his loving arms.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

if you saw my little mental breakdown on here this morning, you know why i wrote this lol i have lots of posts like this on my blog i think, but it comforts me to write them. but anyway, i’m feeling much better now. i honestly just think im so exhausted and overwhelmed that my body and mind are not having it. thanks for allowing me a space to vent those feelings and then post cute little drabbles hehe. if you’re new here, sometimes i have depressive episodes and post some crazy sounding sad shit. and that’s just something that comes with my blog. but i promise im really nice and pretty cute and you should stick around anyways. ♡

[sailornymph]

‘F*CK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME’

how the uchiha men are in bed

cw : nsfw, choking, slapping, etc…

authorsnote : hi everyone and welcome, i hope you enjoy, please stick around for more. 

♡︎ madara uchiha

— at least 8.5 inches, all uchiha men give third leg energy

— he’s really loud, he moans, grunts, calls out your name; anyone passing by could probably hear him, he doesn’t have any shame

— he loves cowgirl, he likes women who are strong like him and he enjoys watching you show him how much you could take

— loves to fuck your face after a long day

— he’s not into foreplay and not much of a eater, but his fingers, they’ll make your toes curl everytime

— he is rough, but with care, asking you if you’re okay, how does it feel, are you ready

— he may be a warrior and clan leader but in the safety of his home with his wife, he is a gentleman

— he’s okay at aftercare, it’s usually you catering to him and he tends to you along the way. if you were to run him bath water, he invites you in and you’ll bath each other

“-just like that,” madara grunted, holding your hip, his other hand exploring all over your body. you were grinding your hips, and it mostly only felt good for you, but watching you was enough to keep him hard.

“madara, fuck me harder,” you whined, gasping then laughing in excitement as his hands instructed you to bounce.

“oh baby, rougher please, fuck me like you’re mad at me,” you panted. your lustful words were enough to make him give in.

madara helped you as you continued to bounce, this time, he made sure you felt every inch, moaning louder every time you took all of him. leaning up, he took your nipple in his mouth. your hands tangled in his messy hair, as you held him closer.

“you’re going to make me cum,” you cried to him.

“cum all over me,” he groaned, going back to sucking your breast.

“yesyesyesyesyes, i’m cummimg, i’m cumming,” you cried out, but he pulled you close, kissing your lips and muffling the lucid noises.

you continued to moan, slowly grinding your hips, as he slapped your ass, squeezing it. his seed squirted all over your walls and you didn’t pull him out like usual, just continuing to grind your hips. once you were satisfied and stopped, he pulled himself out, wrapping his arms around your body.

“the others probably heard us, we were so loud,” you shook your head in embarrassment.

“i doubt it, we were louder last time,” he sighed, thinking of last time he came home from a mission and the two of you went at it for hours.

meanwhile, outside of his home, a few clansmen passed the house, all having horrified expressions.

“lord madara is a very passionate man,” one of the young shinobi said, their face crimson.

“we’ll have an heir in no time with those two,” izuna laughed, turning to leave.

♡︎ itachi uchiha

— 7. 5 inches and is on the girthier side

— low airy moans and sweet words

— missionary so he can see your pretty face or riding him, while he hugs you closely

— this man is an eater and a master with his fingers

— he could lick on your beautiful pussy all night, your cum coating his fingers and he would be content

— he doesn't ask for oral but is fine with it if you initiate

— he is incredibly gentle with you, treating you as if you are fragile and could easily break at the slightest touch

— as his health is declining, sex doesn't happen as much as it used to, but when he has the courage and strength, he wants to make sure it is slow and precious, making the night rememberable for both of you

— the aftercare king, you won't have to lift a finger, he will take care of you and everything else

“i’m cumming,” you moaned lowly, your leg lifted onto itachi’s shoulder. he had been at it for almost an hour now. you were past your third orgasm and didn't understand how his tongue had the strength to keep going.

“you’re so sweet, angel,” he complimented, kissing your inner thighs, as your body twitched. as the reaction wore off, he lowered his head, ready to eat some more, but you shook your head, pulling him onto the bed.

“i’m ready for more,” you said, as he kissed your lips. falling backward into the pillows, you watched as he took off his clothing.

“i love you, angel,” he said, kissing your collarbone.

“i love you too,” you cooed, as he kissed your lips next.

pushing his cock into your cunt, you both moaned, before he moved his head to start kissing your neck.

“i don’t want to make love tonight,” you said, catching him off guard.

“i want you to fuck me like you’re mad at me, just this once, a little rougher,” you encouraged, as he hesitantly nodded.

“if it hurts we’ll stop immediately,” he said, as you nodded, biting your lip.

planting his hands on the sides of your head, he began thrusting. your voice getting louder, as you moaned. the bed frame hitting the wall repeatedly. he was thankful that you lived in the small cottage a good distance from anyone so that no one could hear the noises you were letting out.

“do you like that, angel?” he asked, smirking as you nodded, before begging for more.

placing a hand around your throat, he lightly squeezed, as he spread your legs more with his free hand. you could feel your cunt stretching more and more, making room for every inch he had to give and you loved every minute of it.

“are you going to cum for me, princess?”

“yesyesyes, please make me cum on your cock,” you moaned to him, as he continued thrusting, his hair covering his face.

“it feels so good,” you continued, hungrily grinding your hips.

“fuck,” Itachi hissed, grabbing your hips. he was cumming hard.

“i feel all of it, inside of me,” you giggled, grinding your hips more before you came.

“i don't think i’ve ever came that fast before,” he admitted, burying his face in your breast, taking in your scent.

“perhaps we can do it like that more often,” you suggested.

“perhaps, but we’ll have to come up with a safe word,” he offered. he was always thinking of your wellbeing.

“oh itachi”

♡︎ indra ōtsutsuki

— he’s a big dick meanie having about 9 inches

— he is a dirty talker, calling you everything under the sun but a child of god

— he’s a misogynistic and it will show how he talks to you

— doggystyle! he loves backshots so he can push your face further down, spanking your ass until it’s sore

— lightly slapping your face, holding your nose as he fucks your mouth

— he doesn’t really like you, but you’re his wife, meaning that you are meant to be used by him any way that he sees fit, right?

— he is rough, tossing you around like you are nothing but his personal doll

— he isn’t into aftercare, if anything, it is you who should be offering to care for him because it is your role as his wife to cater to him

“lord indra,” you called out, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, as you stood outside his bedroom.

“what is it?” he asked coldly, he sat legs crossed, obviously trying to meditate.

“i wanted to…i wanted to ask if you if-

“spit it out woman,” he scolded.

“i wanted to ask if you could fuck me,” you said, clenching your thighs together. he hadn’t touched you in weeks, despite you being on your best behavior.

“you really are a whore, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“yes, my lord,” you nodded, as he finally looked at you. your kimono was slightly open, nothing underneath.

“come here,” he tilted his head at you.

hastily you rushed over, falling to your knees, as he stood up. it took all of your willpower to not reach and touch yourself. he looked at you with disgust, but a hint of interest.

“you left your room dressed this way, what if someone else saw you? but you want another man to see your body, don't you?” he roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“no, my lord, i only want you,” you moaned.

“right, to fuck you?”

“yes, my lord, i want you to fuck me like you're mad at me,” you plead, as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. he didn't say anything, pulling his hand back, before slapping your cheek.

“you slut, you interrupted me to satisfy your sexual urges, i'll make sure to fuck you so hard, you’ll think twice about asking again,” he said, as you nodded.

“please punish me,” you begged, nearly moaning as he tore your kimono open. slapping your breast a few times, he opened his kimono, pumping his pink cock.

“open your mouth, bitch,” he said, thrusting into your warm mouth. humming, he grabbed a handful of your hair.

reaching down to rub your clit, you gasp as he yanked your head backward, slapping your cheek.

“did i say you could touch your pussy?” he said, watching as you quickly moved your hands back up, caressing his abdomen and sides, as he went back to fucking your throat.

you were perfect, taking his length like you were supposed to. he had trained you amazingly, from an inexperienced virgin to a slutty housewife, but he would never tell you that. you didn't need to know that you were doing a good job, it would only go to your head.

instead like always, he pulled out of your mouth, grunting a few times as his cum spilled all over your breast.

“thank you, my lord, it tasted so good,” you praised him, before turning around, putting your face against the floor, your ass in the air. sending a slap to your ass, you winced.

“you have a lot of nerve, you stupid whore, bothering me, i should fuck you until you can't walk,” he frowned, slapping your ass again, then again, and again. the pain mixed with pleasure only made your pussy more wet.

pushing his cock into your wet hole, his hands immediately went to your waist. you moaned, lifting your head, but he slapped your ass, pushing your face back onto the floor.

“your pussy is so wet and tight for me, all mine, only mine if you ever cheat on me, i’ll kill them, all of them, you wait until i’m ready to fuck this little cunt, i don't care how long you have to wait,” he said, thrusting in and out of your sweet pussy.

“y-yes, my lord, only yours,” you struggled to speak, squeezing your kimono. as he sped up his pace, you began pulling away from him, but he held you close, as he kept fucking into you.

“stop running, you wanted this, so take it, bitch,” he ordered.

“it's too much,” you whined.

“you interrupted me about getting fucked and now it's too much, it's too late for all of that,” he said, as you moaned loudly.

“oh, kami, i’m cumming,” you cried, clenching around him, as your body jerked at the sensation.

you were hopeful that he would finally cum inside. you had been married for almost two years with still no heir. asuma told you he has overheard indra tell their father it was because neither of you was ready for it.

pulling out, he pumped himself, grunting as the semen sprayed all over your ass and lower back. pushing away the nerve-wracking voice in your mind, whining about how he had yet to cum in you, you sat on the back of your legs facing him.

“thank you, lord Indra, you’ve been very generous to me,” you bowed, going to stand, when your legs gave out. before you could hit the floor, his hand guilelessly went to your waist, catching you.

“sorry,” you nervously laughed.

“you can stay tonight,” he said, his face showing no emotions.

“really?” you smiled, excited.

“i need a bath, and you do too, so crawl,” he said, watching as you nodded, actually crawling to the bathroom.

he could forget at times how much he secretly enjoyed having a dumb slutty wife.

♡︎ obito uchiha

— 8 inch loverboy

— a whimpering mess, he is touch starved and now that he has someone who loves him as much as he loves them, he easily becomes a mess

— this man is a freak, he is doing any and everything, as long as he gets to do it with you

— loves early morning blowjobs, tasting your pretty pussy, mutual masturbation, he just wants to touch and be touched by you

— he is versatile, sometimes he is gentle, sometimes he is manhandling your body

— he loves foreplay and is always willing to try new things, you want to try anal, he will make sure the prep is perfect, you want to roleplay? he’ll even dress up as whatever if you ask

— he never thought aftercare was important until he got with you and now he caters to you

— behind the villain is a soft boi who just wants to love you and treat you like the queen you are

“you scared me,” you jumped, noticing obito. he still wasn’t used to you living with him and oftentimes appeared without making his presence known.

“sorry, love,” he said, taking off his cloak, watching as you approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“how was your day?”

“i accomplished a few things, you?”

“boring and lonely,” you pouted, as he turned to face you, his hand going down to cup your ass.

“maybe i can help fix that, now that i’m here?” he proposed.

“please do”

“how can i help with this boredom and loneliness?”

“fuck me”

“is that all?”

“fuck me like you're mad at me,” you tried biting back your smile, as you stared into his dark eyes.

“anything for you,” easily tearing off your nightgown, his hands explored your body. perfect, everything about it was perfect. no one could make his cock as painfully hard as you.

lifting you into his arms, your legs going around his waist instantaneously. pumping himself a few times, he aligned with your entrance, before letting your cunt pull him in deeper. throwing your head back, you held him close as he kissed along your neck.

“you ready, baby?” he asked, smirking as you nodded.

“yes,” you moaned breathlessly.

without another word, with a firm hold on your thighs, began thrusting into you. your eyes rolled back as he fucked you as if you were nothing but a whore to him. nodding your head, you opened your mouth, tongue out, letting obito spit into your mouth.

“just like that, i love it,” you cried, before smashing your lips into his own.

“you're so tight baby, you're squeezing me,” he whimpered, as you dragged your tongue along his jaw.

“cum inside of me, as many times as you want,” you moaned, your voice getting louder as he sped up.

“fuck yeah,” you laughed, throwing your head back, as he slapped your ass.

“i’m about to cum,” he told you.

“wait for me, we'll go together,” you cried, placing wet kisses along his shoulder, as you both moaned, drunk with horniness.

“right there, i’m cumming,” you whined and finally he released, filling you up.

“hm, so good,” you exhaled, feeling almost refreshed.

“i didn't hurt you, did i baby?” he asked, worriedly.

“no, you were amazing,” you kissed his lips, as his cock fell out of your creamy pussy.

“good,” he said, feeling better after having your reassurance.

“obito”

“yes baby?”

“take me to bed,” you whispered, your eyes burning with lust.

“yes, my love”

♡︎ sasuke uchiha

— 8 inches, i don't make the rules, he's tall, slender, and quiet, meaning it’s heavy

— he's unsurprisingly quiet, but small whimpers and groans will escape his mouth sometime

— he has your legs folded like a pretzel, in the mating press, he has to restore his clan after all

— keeps his shirt on because he's self-conscious, but likes it when you touch him

— likes sucking your breast while he rubs your clit or you jerk him off while kissing him, but he isn't into oral

— incredibly sweet and gentle, while showing his strength

— he knows his redemption won't happen overnight and being more loving to you than before is very important to him

— he isn't the best at aftercare, but with your words of encouragement and instructions, he will get better

“i’ve missed you,” he said lowly, standing in the doorway, he had come home just as you had gotten out of the shower. the fluffy towel still around your body.

“i’ve missed you too,” you smiled. he had been trying so hard to communicate more.

slowly, he approaches you, swiftly lifting you with his arm. his hand resting under your ass, while you held onto his shoulders, peppering his face with kisses. he was still as strong as ever.

“want to know what else i’ve missed since you’ve been away?” you smirked as he nodded.

“your big cock, i miss you fucking me like a slut, do you miss that?”

“yes,” he whispered, his breathing getting heavier.

“are you too tired tonight? i need you so badly, i want to fuck me like you’re mad at me,” you bit your lip. your pussy was already leaking.

“never,” he said and before you could speak again, you were already being gently placed on the bed.

opening your towel, sasuke straddled your lap, taking his cloak off, revealing the gray shirt underneath. leaning down, he lapped his tongue over your nipple. using his hand to pinch the other. reaching down, you unbuttoned his pants, but when you reached for his shirt, he reached for your hand.

“no”

“it’s okay, you’re with me,” you encouraged him, as he hesitantly nodded. unbuttoning his shirt, you opened it but left it on.

taking out his cock, your walls clenched at the heaviness of it. the girth, the length, the visible veins, as he stroked himself. the precum already leaking out. once hard enough, his thumb went to your clit, rubbing a little, before he pushed himself into your wet tight hole.

“yes baby, just like that,” you moaned, as he lifted your legs, crossing them, before pushing himself all the way in.

“so beautiful,” he mumbled.

“you’re making me so wet, keeping going, you’re fucking me so good,” you whined to him, reaching to touch his toned abdomen.

you were already creaming all over him, as he kept going in and out. he was thankful that your eyes were shut because you couldn't see him place the kisses along your feet and ankles. he was disappointed in himself, the fact that it took all this time, for him to finally cherish you and now he couldn't get enough of you.

“ah, sasuke, i’m so close,” you said, your legs shaking, as he held them folded together.

your walls repeatedly clenched around him, as he let out a series of uneven grunts. he was close and he didn’t even know if you wanted him cumming inside. shaking under him, you began to unravel, coating his cock with your juices.

“shit,” he hissed, about to pull out, when you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist.

“cum inside,” you moaned, biting your lip, as he filled you up.

with every drop of his seed released, your legs fell, and you smiled tiredly batting your lashes at him. pulling him onto the bed, you kissed as if you'd never see each other again.

“lord seventh has to stop sending you on so many missions, this house is so lonely without you,” you pouted, playing with the ends of his hair.

“maybe…maybe having a child around could keep you some company, until i am home?” he struggled to say, his face burning in embarrassment.

“you want a baby?”

“with you,” he added on, a small nod.

“then we have to get really busy-

“we can start tonight,” he interrupted, motioning for you to sit on his lap. you were in for a long night.

[kurokawaia]

DAY TWENTY THREE - BABY TRAPPING 彡 Aizen Sosuke

WARNINGS :: x fem reader, afab, yandere, coercion, manipulation, baby trapping, no protection, missionary, fingering, cervix kissing, NC cumming inside, + more

| WC :: 2.8k+ | MDNI | 18+ | kinkmas m.list

You knew about Aizen, what he wanted to achieve-you were the only person he had told apart from three others. You were going to go ahead and help him make this dream a reality. To be in the company of Aizen was to be with a God-the level of control he had, it scared you, couldn't tell if you felt safe too. He's always there to protect you, keeps you hidden away so you can't get hurt. Still, something has always been a bit off about him; you noticed it, how his eyes would follow your every move, every breath. It started innocently enough with Aizen as a perfect gentleman, never forcing and yet giving you just enough space to feel independent. Subtle changes began to happen over time. "Are you going out again?" Aizen's voice came out soft, he is masking his disapproval, he's waiting for the right moment to force you to stay with him. You lifted your gaze from the mirror in front of you and finished styling out your hair. "Just for a little while. Soon I will be back." His eyes stayed on you a moment, his smile false as he stared at you. "I worry about you," he said, moving in behind you and setting his hands on your shoulders before trailing off down to your hands. "The world is a dangerous place, and I'm not always going to be here to protect you. You're only a healer, you can't do much, my love." Comforting, even, his words were sweet. You think. A lump, tense feeling began to grow in your stomach but you laughed it off, brushing his hands with a soft touch. "I'll be fine, Sosuke! I can take care of myself." But the seed had been sown. Over weeks, he came further into your life, and what you used to decide for yourself would, it seemed henceforth, have first to pass through him. And he keeps reminding you so often with a soft chuckle that he wants nothing but the best for you. "You know, you need to take more rest," Aizen said to you one night while doing reports. He leaned over you with his hand tucked in the back of your nemaki, drawing circles, almost to sooth you. "All this stress isn't good for your health." You faltered, words caught in your throat. "I need to finish this." "You don't," he returned smoothly. His fingers closed over your shoulder, tightening just a fraction. "What you need is to unwind. I don't like seeing you overexerting yourself." Before he could object further, he leaned forward and rolled the scroll shut before taking it in his hands. "I'll take care of everything," he whispered. "Just trust me." At first, it was very easy to confuse his overprotectiveness with care. He was attentive, loving in his own peculiar way. Before long, the control started to become more evident with each passing day. 

He never raised his voice nor did he yell. He didn't have to. His words had been enough to lead you to wherever he wanted you to go. And they were so gradual besides, too slight, almost imperceptible. He started taking you away from your friends, from your captain, your lieutenant, subtly making you feel they were not people you should trust. "They don't understand you the way I do," he'd say stroking your hair as you lay in his arms. "They'll only hold you back." And when you fell, he'd lift your chin so it faced his eyes, the skin of your forehead grazing his lips in a feather-soft touch. "I only want what's best for you." You had begun to lean on him, questioning your choices, and if indeed you really knew what was best for you. Then you went to Aizen to see if it was okay-the things you were doing. Aizen had this way of speaking, as though he was the only one who knew you. Lying beside him in bed, as night fell, you said what was pent up inside your mind, "Aizen, am I the only one who thinks this all went a bit too fast? I feel like... I'm losing myself." His response was immediate. "You aren't losing yourself, my love, you're finding who you're really supposed to be. With me, you don't have to worry about a thing. Always, I will take care of you," he says with a softness, but his words are like honey. Still, with those words somehow, it sent shivers down your spine. That was when the future conversations started, light at first, talks about what life could be if you stayed together. A house, peaceful life, children. "You'd make a great mother," he said one afternoon as his eyes latched onto yours. "Can't you imagine building a life with me?" Your heart had skipped a beat, but there was a growing discomfort. "Perhaps someday, but I don't know if I'm ready for that as yet." Aizen didn't press the issue then, but the subject kept coming up. He'd casually touch your belly, remark on how ideal it would be to have a family, how complete your bond would be if you were tied together in every possible way. "It's natural to be wary," Aizen told you one evening while you sat before the fireplace. His hand lay limply on your thigh, his thumb tracing soft patterns. "But do think about it. A child would only strengthen our love. We'd be forever bound." You laughed a little nervously and brushed the suggestion aside. "That's a big step, Aizen. I'm just not sure I'm ready." He smiled gently, his eyes concealing something, something that you don't notice. "You will see, in time, it is the best thing that can happen to us." You didn't know that in his mind, a decision was already made.

Aizen and you have had sex multiple times, so it isn't a rare occurrence for the two of you to have sex at least once a day, at the least, it would be once every two days. But, Aizen makes sure to leave you every night, making sure that you are so fucked out due to pleasure that you forget to notice particular things. 

Specifically, something that is about to happen tonight. 

Your arms are pinned above your head, as Aizen's fingers experimentally push past your slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more.

 A moan left your mouth as your back arched to his touch. Your reaction made Aizen press down slightly more, and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

You felt his fingers slide down, and he found your seeping hols drenched with arousal. A finger slowly slid inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. "Does this feel good?" Aizen asked, and you nodded frantically.

"F-Fuck... feels so good, Sosuke," you whimpered as he started to slowly pump in and out your soaked walls.

"Really?" He asked and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

Overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and intensity, it leaves you unable to hold back your moans. You lean your lips against his shoulder, muffling those sounds that burst from deep inside you. His fingers delve deep inside your core, firing a flame that engulfs every thought. Every movement, every curl sends shockwaves of pleasure across your body.

You let go and surrender to his intoxicating rhythm of touches. The junction of his skilled fingers with the intensity of our connection cossets you closer to the edge and teetering on the precipice of release. It was just a pure moment of bliss, where time seemed to stand still, filled completely with an overwhelming pleasure that coursed through the veins.

With Aizen's fingers pumping in and out of your seeping hole relentlessly, there was a familiar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, and pleasure that had tightened inside your stomach. You wrap your shaking legs around him, trying to hold on to him as the pleasure overflows. Anticipation ripples your body, reacting to every single one of his touches and movements.

You chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

At your pleading, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice husky with desire. His thumb starts pressing your clit with its fleshy pad, another layer added onto the sensations that are already so intense. The touch is electrifying, your back arches in response.

"Please, Sosuke," you sob. "I need to..."

"Let your body take over for you, you want this and I've got you," Aizen reassured, intertwining your mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. You managed to release myself from Aizen's neck and move away from his hold.

"Feeling alright?" Aizen asks cupping my cheeks.

"...yeah..." you breath out slowly while looking into his eyes. Aizen makes you feel so good, all the time, always focusing n your own pleasure, it's like he's trying to win you over for something, to distract you from something-

"There is more coming," Aizen said slowly, his brown eyes piercing into your own and they widened.

"More?" you tease, "What possibly could you give me more of?"

"So much, my love," Aizen hums. "Just let yourself loose, don't focus on anything, just on the pleasure I will give."

He delicately bites the shell of your ear making you let out a quiet whimper. you could feel him smile against your ear at your reaction. Aizen's touch caused you to dig your nails slightly into his chest leaving light crescent marks causing more deep exhales of breaths to get caught in your ear.

Aizen moved his head and his body suddenly firmly pressed against yours and you whimpered at the feeling of his dick pressing up agasint your stomach. His lips mingled with yours his minty taste and smell overflowed your senses making it a complete euphoria for you. you cupped the back of his neck to create a deeper angle for him to go explore deeper into your mouth with our tongues continuing to entangle with each other.

Aizen groans into your mouth, the hand that was trailing down your thigh moved swiftly back to your waist and the other intertwined with your hair at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him. you let out breathy sighs into him as your own hand interlaced with his chocolte and your other wrapped around behind his neck.

His other hand moved its way down to tightly lift your thigh up which made his body mould closer to mine making you feel his dick press up against your soaked core. The kiss slows down and turns soft and almost desperate it's as if he wants to take his time with you, savouring every inch of your taste, to take his sweet time to memorise you.

"Look at you," he teases. "Trembling under my touch."

Aizen pants against your lips and you didn't have time to reply as he pressed them against you once more. "Please," I whimper out.

"Hmm?"

"I want you...." you mumble. "Stop teasing me."

Aizen kissing your forehead like you were a child who listened to their parent. "Good girl."

He presses his lips against mine to take your mind off. you feel a hard tip get lubricated at your entrance making your back arch into him as you let out a strangled moan of pleasure into his mouth. He continues to push further into you making your eyebrows furrow together in pain but the pleasure is still overwhelming your senses making tears prick at your eyes.

"Oh, you feel so good," Aizen whimpers into your neck. "You're so perfect."

You moan. The feeling of pure ecstasy of him fully entered you, the pain gone.

You feel his dick scraping across your plush walls in all the right places as he slowly exited your cunt, but not fully. Your moans and whimpers get swallowed by each other. you feel his thrusts speed up and you moan in response, your walls clenching around him causing the grip Aizen held on your thigh and waist to tighten.

The coil in your stomach getting tighter and your moans slightly became higher. Aizen continued to groan into your neck after he pulled away from the heated kiss.

"You make- me feel so goo- d," you say moaning throughout your sentence, "Feels so good-" you felt the coil in your stomach snap as your back arched painfully into Aizen's bare chest causing Aizen to groan and his arms moved to wrap tightly around you.

You arched your back heavily, able at last to sink further into his embrace. Aizen leaned over, drawing you near to him and initiating a messy, moist kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting out grunts as he absorbed your sounds of pleasure. 

Effectively distracting you as he cums half in your cunt and the rest all over your stomach. He mimics that he's pulled out when in reality, he's got you filled with his seed, ready for you to bare his child.

-------------------------------------------------

 Aizen watched you from his chair.. "You're shaking, dear. What's going through your mind?" His voice was smooth, treacherous in a way that completely made it impossible for you to feel anything but relaxed and on edge all at once.

"I-I just don't understand...," you stammered, your hand falling to rest on your stomach, that for the last couple of weeks had started to show the signs of the life growing inside you. "How could this have happened? We were careful..."

Aizen chuckled low in his throat. "Oh, my love. Did you truly think I would leave something so important to chance? This was always a part of the plan."

You froze, your mind racing. "Wha... what do you mean?"

He stood, moving towards you with the grace of a predator stalking his prey. His hand cupped your cheek as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "I made it happen. I want you bound to me in every way possible. You're mine now-mind, body, and soul."

It swept over you, you realise everything now. Every sweet word, every tender touch, was all an act to trap you. And in one swell, tears began to well within your eyes, but a gentle smiling Aizen wiped them away.

"There is no reason to cry, dear, this is for the best. Now you shall never leave me. You shall carry my child, and we will be bound together, forever." His lips pressed against your forehead. Your breath hitched as his hand slipped into your stomach. How had you not seen this all along? All those nights he had held you close, whispering sweet promises to your ear-all part of his carefully designed trap. He straightened, watching your. "You're too precious to let slip away. You see that, don't you?" His fingers brushed your skin. "You planned this," I whispered, more for my benefit than his. "You wanted this all along..."

Aizen smiled. "Of course. You really didn't think I'd leave a thing like that to chance, did you? I have always had a vision for us-a future wherein you would be mine-completely." You took another step backward, feeling the beating of your heart within your chest, but there was nowhere to go. "What if I don't want it?" you whispered almost soundlessly. "You are emotional now. Understandably so. But time will let you see this as precisely what you need." His voice was coaxing, speaking as he would to a frightened child. You shook your head, fighting down the panic rising into your throat. "I don't want to be trapped like this, Aizen. You can't just take away my choices." Aizen's hand rose to your chin, the pad of his thumb tipping your face upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Oh my love, I have not taken anything from you. I've simply... ensured that we shall never again be parted. Is it not what you wanted, deep down?" "I... I don't know," you said, voice shaking. "Shhh," Aizen cooed, pressing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You are overwhelmed now. But in time, you shall see: our child will bind us together, and you shall understand that was the only way. You shall thank me for protecting our future. "Why?" one finally asked, barely above a whisper. "Why go to such an extent? Aizen's smile pulled taut over his lips, never quite reaching his eyes. "Because I love you. And when I love someone, I make sure they can never leave me." Aizen leaned down until his lips brushed against your ear. "There's no escape, my dear. Not now, not ever."

Do not steal, copy, modify, translate or use for ai Reblogs only!

tag list :: @love-eien @enouche @dreaddful @z8riah

@yanakurokawaaa @princesstiti14 @bontensbabygirl @mitsuyas-version

@kxrfie @clobiss @helenaxh @Tvbox_098 @fullwriterpoemp

[rainroses45]

Cherry Pie with Whip

ᥫ᭡description: Dean thinks there is not a single coherent thought behind those eyes, you prove him wrong ish Dean Winchester x Bimbo Fem! Reader ᥫ᭡a/n: I can't write the whole smut thing BUT I LOVE GIRLY POP READER SO MUCH ALSO LOVE THIS SONG SO VERY MUCH (Not Edited) ᥫ᭡song inspo: Every Man Gets his wish - Lana Del Rey ᥫ᭡warning: mentions of the devils tango

"Dean, I don't get it," you whined, your new glossy pink nails tapped against the table as you tilted your head, lips in a perfect pout. "Why does it have to be salt? Can't we just, like, use sugar or something? It's prettier."

Dean smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching as he stepped closer, his boots heavy against the floor. "Sweetheart, if sugar worked on ghosts, trust me, l'd be throwing cupcakes at 'em." His voice dripped with amusement, “next time you can add glitter to the salt.”

You smiled up at him, your top hitched up as you reached over to place your hands around Dean’s neck. He squeezed you closer to him, pushing your bosoms up.

“Have I ever told you how much I love cherries,” he gazed into your eyes. The fresh coat of mascara and the shimmery eyeshadow made you look like a lost innocent baby doe.

“We should go get cherry pie,” you smiled innocently, unaware of the tall older man starring down your shirt. Your cleavage on full display for his lust full eyes.

“I think I got something better here.” He smirked. “Something bigger and juicier to fill me up.”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled, “maybe we can get some whip cream on top?”

“Now we are talking, got to keep my blood sugar in check.” He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist which caused his shirt to ride up displaying his delicious v-line. Your clotthed cunt rubbing against his abdominal instinctively.

Dean groaned as his hands squeezed your heart shaped ass. You laced your fingers into his hair steadying yourself from floating away from the moment, Dean noticed the fog begin to form in your eyes. “I wonder sometimes if there is ever a coherent thought behind those y/e/c eyes.”

You softly pulled the ends of your boyfriend’s hair in response, “hey don’t be mean,” you pouted.

“You know what I mean princess,” Dean kissed up your neck towards the sensitive spot that he knew would make you weak. You moaned causing your chest to rise further up Dean’s face.

“where did you learn how to be such a tease?” Dean mumbled in your ear nibbling at the skin.

“what does that mean?” You asked.

Dean stopped his actions to view your face, trying to figure out if you were actually joking.

“Honey, do you not know what tease means?” He asked to which you shook your head.

“Do you know about sex?” You nodded.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked again, “I don’t want to pressure you in anything sweetheart, you are in control.”

“I learned how to make love from the movies.” You blushed, hiding away from his gaze. Dean chuckled at your innocent response, before feeling guilty, had he known your level of knowledge on the topic he wouldn’t have been so forward.

“Aww sweetheart that’s nothin’ be ashamed about,” you still avoided his gaze, “why don’t you show me what you learned and I could help you out…wouldn’t that be nice sweet cheeks.” Dean kissed up to your face, trying to pry your hands away from his face. “Of course with your consent and approval it’s all up to you.” You nodded, still a little embarrassed from your previous statement.

Dean smiled fondly at you, “I promise to make you feel so good you’ll be seeing stars sugar.”

“Really?” You moved your hands away excitingly. “Just like in pretty woman?” You asked.

“Even better.” He pecked your lips. “Just say the words princess and I’m on my knees.”

“You’re so sweet Dean.” You blushed kissing his cheek. “How can I ever repay you?”

“I got a few ways but first things first I got to take care of my baby girl.”

[haerinari]

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE — 이 희승

PAiRiNG: bf!heeseung x insecure!fem!reader.

SyNOPSiS: you feel insecure about your body but Heeseung is always there to make you feel better.

WARNiNGS: kissing, skinship, kind of smut, mentions of the female body, insecurities, heeseung is a cutie, nipple sucking,

GeNRa: fluff, smut-ish, established relationship, short drabble.

now playing: just the way you are — bruno mars

Your back was resting in your bed, Heeseung softly on top of you kissing your lips while his hands were roaming all over your body.

Of course you’ve make out with him a few times before, but it never have gotten this far.

Your experiences of having sex with past of previous relationships didn’t end in the best way possible. Instead of being a beautiful and intimate moment with your partner to express the love you had for each other, it ended up in you crying in your bathroom floor.

we should turn the lights off…

damn—you have a lot of stretch marks.

you didn’t shave? uh—maybe we should stop.

your ass has a weird shape.

your boobs are too big.

i don’t wanna see your belly next time, alright baby?

You were so lost in your own mind that you didn’t even notice when Heeseung took your shirt off, leaving only the bra that was covering your breasts and your pants on.

“Hee…” you spoke softly, your forehead resting against his.

“Hmm? Are you okay, baby? We can stop if you want, no pressure. Take you time.” he said, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“I just— are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I want to.” Heeseung stoped and sat on the bed, looking directly into your eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be? I love you.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that…” you sighted. “I don’t want to fuck up this moment because I really love you too, Hee.”

“Y/N, baby, it’s okay. You’re not going to fuck up anything, you can tell me whatever you want.” he took your hand and started kissing your knuckles.

“It’s just that—Boys have said things, about my body. And I don’t want you to think something related to that, you know? I mean—What if you think that my belly has a weird shape? Or you see that I have stretch marks on my waist and you don’t like them? Or—”

“Y/N!” Heeseung spoke, taking your hands between his hands and kissing your forehead. “I love you, okay? I, Lee Heeseung, Love. You.”

“I love your eyes.” he kissed a spot near them. “I love your hair.” then your head. “I love your lips.” he gave you a kiss. “I love every single inch of your body, and there’s no thing on this Earth that would make me change my mind.”

“You’re so fucking cute, oh my god.” you pulled him in a hug. no one has ever said such a beautiful thing about your body, and for the first time in a very long journey, you felt comfortable with yourself. “Thanks, Hee. I love you.”

“You’re going to let me take care of you now?” he smirked.

“Yeah.” you smiled.

Your boyfriend’s lips were in yours once again, his hands touching your breasts over your lacy bra. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your jaw and slowly getting down your neck. Your bra was now discarded somewhere on your room floor, and Heeseung’s kisses were slowly getting down to your tits.

“So perfect… So fucking perfect.” he murmured between kisses.

His mouth went to one of your nipples, sucking the bud softly and kissing it here and there. Your other nipple was between Heeseung’s fingers, who was pinching it to give you the perfect amount of pleasure. He then went to your other nipple, taking care of it like he did before.

Heeseung took his shirt off to now focus on trailing a path of kisses from the between of your breasts to where your pants started. He took them down a little bit, revealing your stretch marks on the side of your waist. He started to kiss them, every single stretch mark or imperfection visible in your body was getting touch by your boyfriend’s sweet and loving lips.

“You’re the most beautiful woman on the entire earth.”

He got up and went to your kiss your lips again, a gesture of reassurance telling you he loved you and every single part of you.

[s6rine]

a sweet disaster

(megumi bday special!) | main masterlist

pairing : megumi fushiguro x gn!reader synopsis : it's megumi's birthday! what's the best way to celebrate it despite megumi obviously not wanting a party? to entrust nobara and yuji with his cake! tags : fluff i think i have no idea on how to tag stuff, drabble, pre-established relationship AHHHHHHHHHH, writing these tags earlier on but like uhm uhm uhm NOT PROOFREAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OFFICER PUT THE GUN DOWN!!!!!! (update: babi lei proofread it what would i do w/o my wonderful beautiful gorgeous queen 💔), i cant write kageyama for SHIZ even tho theyre the same holy cannoli, lower case work intended perchance, yes yuji got beat, its a little lazy gn its 4 am zzzzzzzz word count : 0.4k a/n : happy birthday tpo MY baby 😭💔 i was gonna write for tobio but even tho theyre like the exact same i just cannot but trust one day i'll make up for it...........perchance❓

a/n pt.2 : my vision was something very similar happened last year… like im imagining last year they tried to smash his face into the cake but someone moved it at the cake at the wrong time at his face hit the table instead ykwim

DECEMBER 14, 1:32 PM megumi doesn’t like birthdays.

not because he hates fun or celebrations, but because, in his mind, having a whole day dedicated to yourself feels unnecessary when there are millions of people born on the same day. what’s so special about it? it’s just another date on the calendar. he doesn’t get the hype, and frankly, he doesn’t care to.

and he’s not shy about saying so—even to you.

"you what?" you exclaim, coming to an abrupt halt. "who doesn’t like birthdays? it’s literally the day you were born! it’s supposed to be special!"

megumi lets out a long, tired sigh, rolling his eyes in your direction.

"it’s not special. at least not to me," he mutters. "and celebrating getting one year closer to dying? seems dumb. plus, they never go right. for me at least." his hands bury themselves in his pockets as he keeps walking, not sparing you a glance.

you quickly catch up, narrowing your eyes at him. "that’s the most depressing thing i’ve ever heard! birthdays are about celebrating life, not… getting morbid. you’re alive, you made it another year, and you deserve cake! lots of cake!"

he shrugs, barely reacting. "cake’s too sweet."

you scowl, a spark of playful annoyance lighting in your chest. you shove his shoulder lightly, earning a grunt as he stumbles a step.

"you’re so lame!"

"good to know." he mutters with a sigh.

DECEMBER 22, 4:19 PM "you’re officially banned from picking restaurants." megumi’s voice is flat as he unlocks his dorm room, both of you slipping off your shoes. "that tapioca was awful. undercooked."

you’ve been oddly quiet since leaving, lips pressed tight like you’re holding back laughter. megumi notices immediately, his eyes narrowing as he stops in the entryway.

"what’s so funny?" he deadpans, his gaze flicking to your face and then over his shoulder. it doesn’t take him long to put the pieces together.

he sighs, already defeated. "seriously?" he asks, just as nobara shoves yuji too hard in the kitchen.

it all happens in slow motion—the cake colliding with megumi’s face, the frosting sticking for a moment before it slides down in one messy lump. the room falls silent except for yuji’s grunt as nobara decks him on the back of the head.

megumi stands frozen, wiping frosting from his cheek with a scowl.

“…we should've listened to gojo-sensei when he said cupcakes were… the better option…” nobara mutters, inching backward cautiously.

maybe he was right—birthday parties never seem to work out for megumi. seems like a repeat of last year.

p.s. : a second birthday date made up for it.

© 𝐒𝟔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 | please do not edit, translate or plagiarize my work ! all banners belong to me, please give credits if used !

[altcvnningham]

i'm sick w the flu (and have had a terrible day at work) so take some cringe self indulgent adler x sick!reader s/o headcanons

straightforward and practical. i really don't think adler would initially be the type to coddle or baby you- just very to the point, sternly telling you to drink water and take some meds and painkillers. but he'd make it so much easier for you; he keeps your water bottle filled by the side of the bed, he'll always make sure you've got painkillers in your drawer- he won't dare make a point of it (can't have you knowing he's too sweet on you) but he pops a couple pills out of the packet and puts them at the bedside next to your bottle so you absolutely won't forget. offers to make you hot tea under the guise that i'm makin' myself some coffee, so i might as well. not that he cares, of course. just happenstance.

but i think longer into a relationship with him and he'll let his softer side show. runs you a bath the second he gets home and hears you sniffling, never mind if he needs a shower or not; makes you honey and lemon tea and passes it off as some old army trick he knows and not just common knowledge, because he wants so badly to be the reason you are well taken care of, that only he could look after you like this. washes your hair and gives you deep, slow massages, 'cause it's important for the muscles, obviously, or whatever impartial excuse he gives, not because he's worried about you aching all over or anything. swaddles you in blankets and cuddles you up under his arm on the couch while he puts on an old movie, every so often accidentally brushing a hand over your temple to check for fever.

he doesn't care if you protest that he ought to keep his distance in case he catches whatever you've got- because he won't. or so he insists.

[neiptune]

atsumu miya x will you be my new year's kiss?

Atsumu walks through the door with a few presents balanced in his arms, thick scarf covering his face up to his nose. The apartment is unusually quiet, the only details confirming your presence the colorful lights on the tree you decorated together the first day of december and a few pots left on the stove.

“Babe?”, he calls, confused. Maybe you’re getting ready for the party, which gives him enough time to take his coat off and sort all the boxes. He finally picked up the gifts he couldn’t give on christmas, Bokuto’s legendary new year's eve dinner celebration the perfect chance to check the remaining names off his list: Kiyoomi, Shoyo, Shugo, Rin, Shion. You helped him pick every gift but Atsumu refused to have his sense of creativity fully obscured by your good taste. He hopes Kiyoomi will enjoy his brand new, expensive antibacterial hand sanitizer.

As he walks upstairs, he calls for you again but once more there is no response. He finds you in your shared bedroom, head buried underneath a million blankets, a weak cough the only sign of life he gets.

“Baby? Are you okay?”, he rushes to your side, lifts the covers just enough to get a glimpse of your exhausted face.

“’Tsumu, you’re home”, you try to clear your throat but it still comes out in a hoarse whisper, “sorry, I think you’re gonna have to go to the party alone. I’m sick”.

“You’re sick? How did this happen? It was that asshole colleague of yours, wasn’t it? The one who always comes to the office with a fever, that jacka-”

“I just think going grocery shopping with my hair still wet wasn’t smart”, you chuckle from underneath che covers, “I’ll be fine, just wanna rest tonight. Tell everyone I said hi, ‘kay?”.

Atsumu frowns.

“What? No way I’m leaving ya alone, I’m not going”, he’s alrady taking off his tie by the time your half-lidded gaze emerges once more.

“No, ‘Tsumu! Please go and have fun, it’s new year’s eve!”.

“Nuh uh, I’m making ya soup and putting my pajamas on”.

“But-”

“Rest yer voice, pretty. D’you need any medicine? I can run to the nearest pharmacy”.

You weakly shake your head no.

“I’m fine, it’s just a cold. Some paracetamol will do”.

Atsumu feels your forehead with the back of his hand and smiles, dipping his head to gently press his lips to it afterwards. He murmurs some sweet reassurances into your skin, strokes your hair and tenderly puts out the last embers of your objections. It’s not a bother, his friends will understand, you didn’t ruin anything, he’s happy he gets to take care of his girl.  

Atsumu likes to party but he always says all he needs are those he loves, what he’s doing is hardly important. People make his moments and you happen to be his favorite person.

His new year’s eve is hardly ruined as he hums in your kitchen, puts together your favorite chicken noodle soup as you sniffle upstairs. He cuts fresh bread, makes lemon tea and fills your biggest cup with water, quick and efficient as the situation requires.

When he’s back by your side, tray in hand, you sit up with a deep groan and Atsumu gets comfortable on the side of the bed, insists on feeding you the best soup ever made. After every spoon, the question of whether you can feel all the love put in there makes you break into an exasperated smile.

“Did you eat?”, you take the medicine he hands, grateful, then melt against the pillows once more.

“Yes”, he lies.

“Go eat something”. Atsumu huffs at how easily you read him.

“Later, ’m not hungry”, he feels your temperature with his hand again, then boops your nose to make you laugh.

“I’m sorry”, you sigh, “this is so not how I wanted this night to go”.

“Stop apologizing or I’m gonna have to do it too next time I get sick”, he walks to the other side of the bed and lifts the covers, “and ya know how I feel about apologizing”.

“Go sleep in the guest room! I’ll make you s-”

“Ya talk too much”, once in bed, with a content sigh Atsumu wraps his arm around your body and pulls you in, “besides, I have a question”.

“What?”, you grumble, adjusting yourself to rest your head on his shoulder. He gently rubs your arm, turns his head just enough for his lips to graze your forehead as he speaks again.

“Will you be my new year’s kiss?”.

“Why do I feel like you won’t take no as an answer?”, despite the frustration in your tone, you chuckle.

“Damn right I won’t”, Atsumu smiles. Kissing you is worth getting sick. Kissing you is worth anything, really.

dear @heavenlyakin, a sweet secret santa dropped by to leave this gift for you! happy holidays 🎄

[bisexualbrainrots]

Gentleman.

“D-do you think they know?” 

“Huh?”

Tommy looked up, his gaze on his partner’s eyes. He’d been so focused on stroking the younger’s cock and kissing his neck he sort of forgot about everything around him, and Evan’s voice was an anchor pulling him back to the room, back to Evan riding him.

“A gentleman, that’s what Hen called you the other day” his voice was breathy, it was taking a lot of him to speak clearly, never mind the sounds that came out in between words.

“She did” his hands shifted, now kneading at the area of Evan’s hips, trying but failing to get control of his boyfriend's movements.

Evan scoffed “Of course” and oh, they were going there. Their eyes locked in and he was ready for whatever his baby had come up with “She, and everyone thinks you’re this g-gentleman who— oh fuck, who would never disrespect me but they don’t know” the rolling of his hips messed up with Tommy, a moan coming out of his mouth.

“Don’t know w-what baby?” his chest was filling up with excitement.

He remembers that night, they’d gone out to a bar and Tommy took care of everything: he paid for the table, got them their respective drinks, even gave one of the extra chairs to another group who came to the bar. He didn’t think most about why he did that, he just wanted to; instead, all his focus was on Evan and his thighs, thighs he kept touching and grabbing mindlessly throughout the night. And once they were at his place his head was in between them, kissing and marking them up.

Evan lifted his hips and smirked, half of his length waiting to be buried again inside the younger “That you’re a desperate freak babe” and with that he sank down fast, a loud moan out of his pink lips. Tommy whimpered, closing his eyes hard and feeling his ears ring.

Evan’s pace picked up, and Tommy’s eyes fluttered open when he felt his boyfriend’s mouth on his ear, sucking on the earlobe, his voice sending shivers down his spine “They don’t t-think that all you want to do is choke me up and spank me until I can’t sit for a whole day”

“God, Evan—” he was interrupted by a filthy kiss, the kind that had Tommy reaching for his boyfriend’s ass, and he gave a good hit to prove Evan’s point.

Evan keened, biting Tommy’s lower lip hard enough to feel the metallic taste, and mixed it with their tongues. One of Tommy’s hands went back to the younger’s cock, jerking him off to the speed of his hips.

“You are far from a gentleman Tommy, y-you’re a— Jesus fuck, a beast!” he was jumping on Tommy’s dick, his hands holding tightly on the older’s shoulders, nails digging deep “All you want to do is mark me up and fuck me until I can’t walk, all you want is— oh shit I’m close, ah, you just want everyone to know I’m yours” 

And that set a fire inside of Tommy’s belly, spreading fast like he was being poured gasoline. 

He set his heels deep on the mattress and thrusted his hips up, hard, making Evan’s eyes roll to the back of his head “You’re mine kid, d-don’t forget who you belong to”

Evan cried out “I belong to you, daddy” and let go, shuddering as white stripes covered their chests and Tommy’s hand. He followed three thrusts later, growling with his face buried in the crook of Evan's neck, filling his baby up.

They stayed like that for a while, chests heaving. Tommy held the back of Evan’s head with his clean hand and massaged the scalp, trading kisses throughout his head and face: starting from the sweaty curls, following to the temple, birthmark, nose, and ending on the lips.

A soft, sweet kiss that contrasted with the previous scene. 

When Tommy pulled out, making both of them wince, he took off to the bathroom, coming back with two clean hands and a wet washcloth. Evan was laying with his back on the mattress and smiled at his boyfriend, who took his time cleaning both of them up.

“Guess you can be a gentleman after all” Evan said in hoarse voice as he saw Tommy clean his ass, and giggled when the older kissed his inner thighs “C’mere” 

They ended up cuddling under the sheets, legs intertwined, sharing kisses and I love you’s until they fell asleep.

been trying to work on my nsfw writing, so comments are much appreciated!

[herecirmsims]

My 𝐓𝐨𝐩 24 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 from 2024🎉

Thank you @theplottdump for the tag! I'm tagging @southernsimmin, @sansabirdanne, @lynzishell, @nefaricussims, @raspberrywhimss and anyone else who wants to! I'm also just using story screenshots because that's easier haha.

Big Windows Era: I had a lot of fun with lighting during the medieval arc. Did it make sense? Rarely. But there were big windows and bright sunlight everywhere.

The rest below a cut. CW for blood and censored NSFW!

2. I Love Castles: this is such a basic shot of Elidyr climbing the stairs, but I really liked it lmao. Poor kid was trying to find the garderobe and instead they found a depressed vampire.

3. Beautiful Amari: getting to have @southernsimmin 's beautiful boy play the role of court mage during this arc was the coolest. I think this is my favourite photo of him though. Those eyelashes are so delicate. Plus he looks so elegant laid back like that, while Sax is just slumped on the floor behind him hahahah.

4. I Really Love Castles: big rooms, big windows... it was big. The biggest. I loved building these little movie set style locations (they were all just bland boxes on the outside!).

5. Take A Shot Every Time Sax Passes Out: Fen trying to get some kind of sense out of Sax after the portal yeeted him and Idris back into our world. I just really loved the vibes of this shot, with the focus on Saxen's hand trying to steady himself, while his face is hidden.

6. That Was The Moment He Realised, He Fucked Up: these aren't good shots, but they were very funny to me. Jasper accidentally teleporting himself outside of a skyscraper, and then teleporting in and out of increasingly low altitudes because his magic was malfunctioning lmao.

7. Rudeys: I just really liked this shot hahah. I like the shadows and the soft winter light through the windows.

8. Puppies Are Loud: Sax taking a nap - and then waking to discover that his fiance and kid-he-stole-as-a-baby-and-now-raises-as-his-own have managed to acquire a puppy during that time - was very funny to me. I was really pleased with his expression here hahah.

9. Cute Family Shot, Unless: I was soooo pleased with how this shot came out too, because it is a sweet family portrait of Sax with the people he cares about most in the world (plus puppy) and El and Fen are very happy... but the way his eyes are hidden in shadow give it a slightly darker vibe. He would do terrible things to keep them safe.

10. Sax Try Not To Ruin Christmas By Dying Challenge: I just think they're cute.

11. Creepy: I spent aaaages decorating this room full of illicitly obtained occult goods, because where else do billionaires hold their Christmas parties (my story had Christmas back in July btw). I really liked this shot of Vlad being sinister.

12. Creepy But Now Underwater: also from the Christmas party, this shot from inside the mermaid tank.

13. Boss Fight: Sax walking out to meet Vlad.

14. Fen Saves The Day: to be honest... neither the pose nor the picture turned out how I'd hoped. But I still really like this moment hahah.

15. Idris: it's just a random reaction shot but I really liked this picture of Idris calling her parents! This was before I had relight so it was purely from in game lighting. I liked the softness.

16. Burger King: again, a random scene setting shot, but I really liked how it came out.

17. Idris vs. Vlad: this whole scene contained deeply uncomfortable mind games, so saying I like this shot feels very wrong... but I felt like it got the tension across.

18. The Only Competent Person Here: I looove her focus.

19. Gently Folding Tissue: Sax trying to regain control of his emotions by ignoring everyone and just slowly folding the tissue he'd used to wipe his own tears was iconic behaviour tbh.

20. Jasper Gets Yeeted Again: Jasper trying to attack Sax and being repelled by the cottage's boundary protection. I was really pleased that I managed to get the camera in the right angle to show Jasper flying backwards, Fen reacting in shock, and Sax just standing there calmly because he knew what would happen.

21. Rudey II: I was so pleased and disgusted with myself for putting this conch shell in the foreground of my most NSFW pose hahahaah. Take that IG censors.

22. Shadows: the shadows were a paid actor.

23. I Love Landscapes: help I'm obsessed with snowy landscape shots. I really liked this one of Sax and Fen on either side of the boundary.

24. A Normal Reaction When Being Handed To Saxen: baby boy's already working on his side-eye game.

Oki... now I've said that I actually liked 24 things I made and I feel weird about it, so I'm gonna post before my brain makes me hit delete. 🥲

[stellarsturniolos]

INTRODUCING: nurse!reader ... paired with matt sturniolo. ( inspo credit: @mattsbows )

the bitter scent of antiseptic, hands that are always cracked and dry from washing them so often, always stressed from working too hard yet still feeling like you're not doing enough, back pain that never seems to fade, and the intense desire to stay in bed for an entire weekend.

it had been an exhausting, hectic, and just plain busy day in the emergency room at the largest hospital in los angeles. from severe cases like an elderly man who went into cardiac arrest, to a basic case of the common fucking cold, you'd seen it all. and you just wanted to go home. or, more specifically, to matt's home.

but you couldn't. because you had to work the goddamn 24 hour shift, and you were currently only on hour 12. you hadn't been able to stop for a snack or a piss or even a simple drink of water because you'd been running from room to room, checking vitals and administering medications and answering questions.

at two o'clock in the morning, when most of your patients were snoozing and the hustle in the ER had calmed down a bit, you decided to step away for a quick moment... just to catch your breath.

you walked outside and turned on your phone for the first time in hours. you grinned when you saw text message after text message from matt. just telling you about his day, telling you about the video he and his brothers filmed that afternoon, sending you a picture of a cute dog he met on his run, telling you he missed you.

it was all very, very sweet but it just made you long for home even more.

the latest message was sent only ten minutes ago, so before you could stop yourself, you were dialing his phone number. you had his number memorized, of course, even though you don't even have your own number memorized. which matt never failed to tease you about.

"hey, baby.." he greets you, his voice so soft and full of love. "how's work?"

"it's... work," you say with a gentle laugh before unloading on him like you do way too often. "i'm so tired, babe. like, i desperately need a coffee, but the closest coffee shop is closed because it's the middle of the fucking night and i'm too lazy to walk all the way down to the cafeteria." you exhale heavily. "i wanna come home. i miss you."

he chuckles softly. "i miss you more, pretty girl." you can almost hear his smile through the phone and it warms your heart so much. "hey, i hate to cut this call short, but i really have to take a shit."

you're glad he can't see your sad pout. "that's alright, baby. i should probably get back to work anyway. i love you. see you in, like, ten hours."

"i love you too, my baby. take care of yourself, okay? i'll see you soon." and then he hangs up. he must've really had to shit, you think to yourself.

you allow yourself a few more seconds to pout and miss him and feel sorry for yourself, but then you go back to work. you get water for a few patients and then decide to sit and do some paperwork whilst you can.

that's when one of your fellow nurses taps you on the shoulder and informs you that you have a surprise in the waiting area. you frown at her, confused, but she just winks and waves you away.

when you go out to the waiting room, your eyes widen. because there stands matt, with a large thermos of hot coffee and a few of your favorite chocolate protein bars.

you immediately get teary eyed when you see his beautiful, soft, kind smile. you step closer to him and sniffle, feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

you wrap your arms around him, hugging him tighter than you've ever hugged anyone before.

"matt..." you murmur, your voice muffled against his neck. "you didn't have to come all the way out here just to bring me coffee, y'know?"

"i know, sweetheart," he says, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "but i wanted to."

"you're the best." you say as you pull back enough to look up into his eyes. "seriously, i didn't think guys like you even existed. you.. you're so good to me. and i really do appreciate everything you do for me."

"i know you do, baby." then his lips quirk up into a smirk and he leans in close again to whisper in your ear. "i can't wait for you to come home later.. so you can show me just how much you appreciate me."

you feel a shiver go down your spine. fuck.. now you want to go home even more.

@ stellarsturniolos.

[sequinsmile-x]

would like to suggest a hotchniss christmas fic that's basically the song "i saw mommy kissing santa claus"

omg YES. YES.

Here you go bestie xo

-x-

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Evie Hotchner sees something on Christmas Eve that she doesn't think she should have seen.

AKA - the one in which I've written exactly what you think I've written.

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You excited for tomorrow, Mommy?” 

Emily smiles and puts the book she’d been holding down on her lap as she turns to her daughter, “I am, baby. I love Christmas.” 

Evie’s smile gets wider, the three year old no closer to sleep than she was when she’d brought her up to bed 40 minutes ago, “Me too!! Lots of presents.” 

“Lots of presents,” Emily chuckles and kisses her forehead, thinking of all the gifts hidden in the attic that she’d promised to help her husband with once the kids were in bed. 

“And it’s Zaccy’s first Christmas,” she says, her eyebrows furrowing, the serious look that she’d inherited from Aaron spreading across her face, “Will Santa know about him?” 

Emily runs her fingers through her hair, an old trick that had helped to send her to sleep since she was a baby, and she tugs Evie closer, the love she had for her little brother enough to make Emily want to cry.

When she was first pregnant with Issac, she’d worried about Evie’s reaction to becoming a big sister. Since she was a tiny newborn, she’d always been all about Emily, desperate for her mother’s affection and attention at any given moment. It had made those early days long, when she’d refuse to settle for Aaron - something that Emily knew upset him - and she’d sit up in bed with Evie asleep on her chest because it was the only place she’d sleep for longer than 10 minutes. When they brought Issac home, the final missing piece to their family, and Evie was complacent about him at best,  Aaron assured Emily that their little girl would be fine, that there would be an adjustment period for all of them, but that she loved her little brother even if she didn’t know it yet. 

He was right, just like he was more often than Emily would care to admit, and Evie was obsessed with her little brother now. Sometimes they’d find her asleep on his bedroom floor, curled under her bedding that she’d pulled in after her with her favourite stuffed animal in her arms. 

“Yes,” she says, kissing her forehead again, “Santa knows about Zaccy, don’t worry,” she smiles as she thinks of the 6-month-old sleeping in the next room, “And remember what we said - he’s small so he doesn’t understand it all yet.” 

“It okay, I open his presents.” 

She chuckles, “Okay, sweet girl, you need to go to sleep.”

Evie sighs like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, “I’m too excited to sleep.” 

She hums and continues to run her fingers through her hair, smiling to herself as she tells her daughter the only white lie she’d ever tell her, “But Santa won’t come if you don’t sleep.”

Evie’s eyes go wide before she squeezes them shut, her grip on Emily’s shirt getting tighter, “I go to sleep now.” 

Emily kisses the top of her head and picks the book back up, holding it with one hand whilst the other still plays with her little girl’s hair as she reads to her. She slowly feels Evie get heavier as she falls asleep, her grip on her shirt loosening just as Emily finishes the book. She sneaks out from under Evie and tucks the covers around her, dropping a kiss against her temple before she slips out of the room, making sure she’s quiet as she pulls the door closed behind her. She checks on Issac and Jack, relieved to find them both asleep, and heads downstairs. 

She smiles when she walks into the living room to find the presents all gathered around the tree already, toys and books she’d spent weeks agonising over all wrapped up and ready for her three kids to tear into them all in seconds. She sometimes had to pinch herself when she thought about the fact that this was her life. She had a family of her own, one she’d built together with the love of her life, and she was able to give her children the Christmases she’d always wanted when she was a kid herself. 

Aaron would always gently make fun of her and her love of the holidays, his smile wide and full of love as he patiently stood next to her as she picked out decorations and sparkling lights. It never went further than a playful comment or a raised eyebrow because he knew how important it was to her. 

She hears his footsteps behind her, and she turns, “Sorry, honey, I would have helped but Evie…” she trails off when she sees him, her words turning into a laugh as she’s met with the sight of him in the Santa Claus outfit they’d bought and hidden with all the gifts. He’d insisted on it, his eyes full of excitement as he said he’d surprise the kids with it, something she knew was his own attempt to give them what he’d never had, “Why are you wearing that?” 

He shrugs and pulls the fake beard down, “I wanted to check that it fits,” he asks, and she watches as he turns as if he’s trying out a new suit for work, “What do you think?” 

She hums, love for him thrumming under her skin, “It looks good.” 

He chuckles and raises an eyebrow at her, “Santa? Really?” 

She rolls her eyes and slaps his shoulder lightly, smiling when he captures her hand and kisses her knuckles, “No,” she exclaims, her nose scrunched up with disgust, “Not like that.” 

Aaron leans in to kiss her, “I know that look, Issac exists because of that look.”

She shakes her head at him and wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers curled around the bobble on the end of his Santa hat, “It’s not the Santa suit,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “It’s you being such a good Dad.” 

He hums against her lips, “Love you.” 

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips skimming his as her breath skips across his face, “I love you too.”

She kisses him again, and they get lost in each other, both of them too distracted to hear a quiet gasp from the doorway followed by their little girl's footsteps on the hardwood floor as she runs back upstairs to her bedroom.

__

Emily wakes up at the sound of a bedroom door opening down the hall, closely followed by thundering footsteps. 

“Incoming,” Aaron says from behind her, his voice rough from sleep and misuse as he encourages her closer with the arm thrown over her waist. She has just enough to turn and kiss him before the door opens, Evie and Jack speaking in unison from the doorway, Issac smiling widely in Jack’s arms, his tiny hands already reaching out for his mom.

“Merry Christmas!” 

Emily and Aaron both sit up as they smile at their children, beckoning them over to the bed as Aaron switches on the lamp on his nightstand.

“Merry Christmas,” Emily says as she opens her arms up to take Issac from Jack. She kisses the baby’s cheek several times in a row, “It’s your first Christmas, sweet boy,” she kisses his cheek again, “Are you excited?”

“He was already awake when we went into his room,” Jack says as he settles on the bed in between his parents, “He was just sitting there like he was waiting.” 

“Were you waiting for your brother and sister?” She smiles as she settles Issac into her lap, “My patient little guy.”  Issac was Aaron all the way through, his quietness in comparison to his older sister already pronounced at only 6-months-old. Emily had lost sleep in the early weeks of his life for an entirely different reason to Evie’s, so used to how her little girl had cried for hours at a time that she was convinced something was wrong with her newborn son. She turns to look at Evie who was sitting in Aaron’s lap, her attention focused on a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt, “Are you okay, sweet girl?” 

Evie shrugs and doesn’t look up at her, and Emily and Aaron exchange a concerned look. He adjusts his hold on the toddler so she’s looking at him. 

“Do you want to go give Mommy a Christmas cuddle?” He asks, trying to pull a smile out of her by tickling her, and she shakes her head fiercely, holding on to him tightly. 

“No,” she says, the tone in her voice cutting deeper than Emily thought possible as she looks up at her, “Mommy was naughty.” 

Emily furrows her brow, the serious look on her little girl’s face a vice around her heart as she tries to figure out what she’d done wrong to upset her, “What do you mean, baby?” 

Evie shakes her head again, “Can’t say.” 

Aaron looks at Emily and doesn’t miss the hurt flashing across her face, and he knows he needs to fix whatever is going on before it ruins their first Christmas morning as a family of five, “Princess, you can tell us anything, you know that.” 

The little girl sighs and looks up at her father, her lower lip sticking out as it wobbles ever so slightly, “Mommy kissed someone else,” she says, turning to look at Emily again, “I saw you kissing Santa.” 

Any concern she’d had that she’d somehow upset her daughter without knowing how disappears in a second, replaced with amusement she has to swallow down. She keeps her eyes fixed on her daughter, knowing if she made eye contact with her husband she’d laugh, and that would only upset Evie more right now. 

“Baby-”

“I saw you,” Evie says, her arms crossed over her chest, “Last night.” 

Aaron tries this time, desperately trying to think of how he could explain this to his little girl without running Christmas for her, without shattering the illusion of Santa years before he’d hoped it would happen. 

“That wasn’t the real Santa,” Jack cuts in, missing the look of panic in his parent's eyes as he tries to help. 

“Jack-” Aaron warns, but Jack carries on undeterred. He’d mentioned this year that he knew Santa wasn’t real, which Emily knew Aaron found harder to accept than he’d anticipated. They’d sat him down and explained that it was important for his brother and sister to still believe it, and he’d nodded along, pleased to be in on the secret, his smile wide at Evie’s excitement when they’d gone to meet Santa in the mall a week ago. 

“The real Santa is busy, right?” Jack says, cutting over Aaron. Evie nods in response and Jack carries on, “So he has Mommy’s and Daddy’s help out with putting out the presents - that was Daddy you saw Mommy kissing last night.” 

Evie’s frown loosens a little, her eyes flicking back and forth between her parents, “Really?” 

Emily looks at Aaron and he shrugs, both of them grateful that their eldest had come up with an answer when they hadn’t been able to, “Yeah,” she says, reaching out and tucking some of Evie’s hair behind her ear, “Really,” she looks up at her husband and winks, “Daddy’s the only person I want to kiss.” 

Evie sighs in relief and finally slips into Emily’s lap, “Merry Christmas Mommy.” 

She smiles and holds her close, one arm around her and the other around Issac and she drops kisses on top of both of their heads. She looks over at Aaron and Jack, both of them beaming at her, and she sighs contentedly, “Merry Christmas, baby.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, throwing the covers off of his lap and standing up, “How about some Christmas pancakes?” Jack and Evie exclaim and scramble off the bed, both of them already in the hallway before he can call after them, “Jack, make sure your sister is careful on the stairs.” 

“Yes, Dad!” 

He turns and looks at Emily, his smile turning into a smirk as she stands up, Issac on her hip, “So-”

“Don’t even say anything,” she replies, raising her eyebrow at him, her cheeks warm with embarrassment, “I can’t believe she saw that,” she blows out a breath, “Thank fuck Jack can think on his feet. We’re going to have to be more careful next year.”

He hums and wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her close to kiss her temple, her cheek and then the corner of her lips, “We’ll keep the Santa kissing strictly to the bedroom.” 

She rolls her eyes as she pulls away from him, “How many times do I have to say it was not the Santa costume I found attractive, but you being a good dad?”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulders, taking a moment to run his knuckles down Issac’s cheek before he starts to lead them out of the bedroom. 

“I believe you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “Thousands wouldn’t.”

[oddtinspeas]

I’m kind of speechless still because I suspected that Jace would die and, I’m gonna be honest, with him I don’t really care, but with Jace Jr your explanation that from Red perspective it may be pure and blameless bond was indeed kind of making sense for our girl. Yet, it turned out that Jace Jr just cannot live even if he’s actually Luke 2.0. (even though I’m not 100% certain that the baby is dead.) But also her self-blaming in this chapter makes me wonder if unfortunately, this relationship with her own son wouldn’t be just another addiction to the list of being bad at some “role” (like I said I kind of wanted for Red to be a mother-failure, I know, but now I take it back, because Red suffered through enough, well after this chapter she for sure suffered through enough, let’s have some mercy). Unfortunately x2 now it also can be added to the list because maybe Luke 2.0 is in fact dead and she couldn’t produce a lot of milk so… Red, come here, I’ll give you a hug.

Also my sweet Helaena, my dearest love??? (But also since it’s said through a letter it makes me wonder if it’s true even if her trying to stop something awful from happening also makes sense)

As for Aemond, well, he reminded me that he really is princess, babygurl, but also war criminal, isn’t he? Yes, he is, geez, Aemond, what have you done?

His mass murder aside, the flashbacks always make me think about the matter that he seemed to be more delicate and careful with Red than she in the present narration seems to perceive him to be and it makes me wonder if the bad things he did in their childhood and their bdsm dynamic and her current situation and experience she’s gained don’t maybe cloud her judgement about how Aemond would act/who he is (but I might be wrong, because it’s her who knows him and my judgement also can be clouded by this blond bitch who I cannot defend in many situations/cases because Aemond indeed has done some terrible things)

Cannibals [Chapter 7: Lightning and Rust]

A/N: Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), babies and parenthood, blood and violence, character deaths, I really cannot summarize this chapter you just gotta experience it, I'll pray for you 🙏

Word count: 6.8k

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You’re curled up in bed with a velvet pouch of hot stones that have gone cold, bloody rags bunched between your thighs, trying desperately to sleep, and outside a storm is brewing over Blackwater Bay and bringing with it dark skies and strikes of lightning that stalk ever-closer. Through the open window, the air tasting like late-summer rain, you can hear Helaena and the maids corralling the children back into the Red Keep. They are laughing because nobody is dead yet, not even the ailing and absent King Viserys, not even doomed little Luke Strong.

Aemond lets himself into your chambers and stands over your bed, staring down at you with some combination of annoyance and concern. You have failed him. You were not where he wanted you to be. “Why weren’t you at the beach?” Playing with your niece and nephews, collecting your seashells.

“Because women are cursed.”

Aemond smiles, perhaps a bit relieved; he has his answer. “And you more than any of them, because you’re so wicked.”

“Maester Orwyle says I can’t have more milk of the poppy for two hours.”

“Then we must listen to him. It is a powerful remedy, and we cannot endanger you.” He takes off his boots and climbs into bed, lying behind you, one hand following the curve of your waist to settle on your lower belly. “I can relax the muscles. It might ease your suffering.”

Right now? “Oh no, no, you don’t want to do that,” you warn him. “It’s very messy.”

“You think I’m afraid of your blood?” Aemond says, amused. “Everything we’re built of is the same.” He lifts the hem of your silk nightgown and reaches underneath the nest of rags, sliding there in the coppery wetness as you inhale sharply, startled but not unwilling. When Aemond removes his hand, the carnage he is stained with is bright crimson but dotted with clots. Then he licks the blood from his fingers and paints his tongue red. You can’t keep the shock from your face. Aemond grins, wets his hand again, draws a heart on your left cheek just beneath your eye. You laugh and pretend to try to shove him away.

“You’re deranged, you’re a monster—”

“Let me help you,” Aemond whispers, nuzzling blood from his lips into your silver hair. “Let me take your pain away like you quiet mine.”

And you surrender to him like you always do—worn down, overpowered, intoxicated, bewitched, seduced, perhaps all at once—and as Aemond’s hand works and the gory metallic ether of blood fills both of your lungs, the cramps dissolve into nothingness and then build to desire, and you’re opening your thighs for him and the rags are whisked away, unnecessary, forgotten, and now there is blood on the bedsheets and your fingers are twisting into the pillows strewn around you, and it doesn’t feel shameful at all anymore, because what is blood if not made from the same minerals as coins and blades and ocean and ash, and what is lust if not a fire that burns the constraints of the world away?

You kiss him as you come, moaning into his bloodstained mouth, biting his lower lip, and if the careless pressure of your teeth makes him bleed then that’s just more iron and copper and steel to add to the molten sea you are marooned in, more magma, more rust. “Enough,” you gasp when the last of the waves have passed and you are emptied and too sensitive, and Aemond knows to listen. Then you reach for Aemond’s trousers, where you can see he is hard. You are abruptly and ruinously exhausted—you struggle to keep your eyes open—but it feels wrong to not take care of him in return.

It shouldn’t take long, he’s already flushed, he’s already dripping sweat—

“No need,” Aemond says, gently stopping your hands. And as you burrow into the pillows and your eyes dip closed, your skin and hair still splattered with red, he slips away silently so you can sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jace says, knowing that he has to anyway. “Either of you.”

You are nursing the baby in a chair by the fireplace; you needed a change of scenery from the bed. The upholstery is pale blue velvet. The blanket the baby is swathed in is embroidered with pine trees and foxes, and far beyond your skill; Lady Caro made it. She is nearly as gifted with a needle as Helaena. On the walls of the bedchamber you share with your husband are mosaics you’ve pieced together over the past nine months here at the modest castle of Heart’s Home in a cold, remote corner of the Vale. The fractured faces look in on you like curious gazes through clear windows: Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Jaehaera, Maelor, Mother, Criston. You aren’t any closer to them now, but you feel like you are. The world seems softer, warmer, smaller.

You smile as you ghost a fingerprint over the baby’s faint dark eyebrows. He’s half-asleep as he suckles, hushed and content and entirely helpless. He has Jace’s coloring, but something about the shape of his eyes reminds you of Aegon. “We’ll be here waiting when you get back.”

“I think he looks a lot like Luke,” Jace says, admiring the baby. He’s standing with one arm draped over the back of your chair and the flickering firelight from the hearth on his face, turning his skin from snow to sunstone. “And Joffrey. His face is rounder than mine.”

“Have you been to the Eyrie to see them since the war began?” Joffrey, Rhaena, Rhaenyra’s young white-haired sons Aegon and Viserys.

Jace shakes his head. “I never wanted to be away from you for longer than necessary. I didn��t want to risk being spotted and revealing where they’ve been hidden. And I didn’t know what to say.” About us, about our marriage, about our baby.

“You should visit them, Jace. I would visit Helaena and her children if I could.” You leave out the others intentionally; Helaena is your only sibling that Jace considers blameless. You miss Aegon and Daeron just as much, but in the solitude of your own heart—in the stillness, in the silence—you aren’t sure if you want to see Aemond again. You don’t know if he will be soft with you, or vengeful or cold, or if he has filled the void of your absence with a lover, something that you cannot think about without your stomach lurching and your skull aching, and so you put him out of your mind as much as you can and stay here with the baby instead.

Jace rests a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, then strokes your cheek. He says, meaning the baby: “We’ll have to get him his own egg.”

“I hope he won’t inherit my affliction,” you murmur somberly. “I hope he’ll have a dragon someday.” Without them, we are powerless. Without them, we aren’t real Targaryens.

“Maybe there’s something you need to do first.”

You look up at Jace, not understanding.

“I’ve spent a lot of time considering what inspires a dragon to bond to someone,” he says. And you think, feeling a fleeting stab of betrayal before you stitch the wound closed with invisible thread: Because you’ve been helping the Blacks search for riders. “It seems that each creature has their own preferences. Meleys favored women who were spirited and highly intelligent. Dreamfyre has chosen two riders, both gentle, shy, and fond of animals. Seasmoke bonded to two sons of Corlys Velaryon with similar temperaments, agreeable and charismatic, Quicksilver to a father and son who were both considered weak and died young. Caraxes seems to have an affinity for warriors.” It does not escape you that Jace neglects to mention Vhagar, as if through his silence he can make the beast and her rider vanish. “And Vermithor…” Jace offers you a small, sympathetic smile, remembering that you once wanted him. “The Bronze Fury bonds to riders who are imposing in body and ambitious in spirit. And I suspect he only likes men.”

“So it was always hopeless,” you say gloomily. You recall the miniature Vermithor that Aegon once carved for you out of oak wood. You hope that Aegon is still alive somewhere, scarred but lying in wait, always underestimated, always so much deeper than he seems, an ocean that Mother and Father mistook for a puddle, messy and marginal and inconvenient.

“I believe dragons often gravitate towards riders who are mirrors of themselves. Even Vermax, he is…” Jace considers this. “He’s proud, and he’s clever, but he’s not as formidable as he imagines himself to be.”

“Like you,” you say before you can stop to consider whether Jace will be offended by it, and he gives you an amused smirk. The baby has stopped nursing and fallen asleep; you fix the bodice of your gown and cradle him against you. There are maids to take him when you’re tired, and Jace loves holding him, and Lady Caro steals him away often, but right now you don’t want your freedom. You don’t want your mind to be untethered and to wander to all the places you’re not supposed to be.

Jace continues: “What I mean is, perhaps there is some quality you must cultivate within yourself before the beast you are meant to have judges you worthy.”

“Hardly any unclaimed dragons are left now.” Then you tease: “Do you suggest I become quiet and timid so Grey Ghost will like me?”

Jace laughs. “No, I fear that’s a lost cause, princess. You could never be timid.”

You are intrigued. “Then what am I?”

“I think you’re hungry,” Jace decides. “I think you always want more.”

“I never wanted that many things.” Aemond. My family to be safe. And I wanted Vermithor.

“Every line that is drawn, every place you’re told not to go or act you’re not supposed to do, you insist upon overreaching.”

Is that why Aemond and I were so drawn to each other? you think doubtfully. Because it was forbidden? Because it horrified people who climbed high enough to live alongside Targaryens but could never understand them?

“I think Meleys would have been a good match for you,” Jace says after a while. “If she hadn’t already been claimed by Grandmother.”

“And now the Red Queen is dead.” Like Arrax, and Moondancer, and Seasmoke, and probably Sunfyre too. How many dragons will be left when this is over? How many Targaryens? You clutch the baby closer to you; he stirs in his sleep, tiny fingers grasping at nothing. “What sort of rider does Silverwing favor? What could this illiterate drunk Ulf the White possibly have in common with Good Queen Alysanne?”

Jace snickers. “That’s a good question. I’ve been ruminating on it. My theory is that since Silverwing was never ridden into battle, and has always been relatively docile and accustomed to living peacefully near humans, she was attracted to Ulf’s…how to describe it? His lack of military prowess. Or, alternatively, once Vermithor was claimed Silverwing was very, very lonely.”

You smile, and then it dies. It must be indescribably painful to be separated from one’s mate after a century together. Unsurvivable, even. “Can Silverwing fight, do you think?”

Jace heaves a sigh and shrugs. “I’m not sure if either of them can. Ulf will try, at least. Hopefully it won’t come to that, and Vermithor is enough to protect King’s Landing. Hugh Hammer is an inexperienced rider, but he’s brave and he’s committed. Each time I see him he’s better than he was before.”

Hugh Hammer is a bastard blacksmith, but he has more power in this war than I do. Ulf the White is an idiot and a drunk, but he’s a true Targaryen and I’m not. You rock your sleeping child in your arms, quieting the voices that flutter in your skull like bat wings. You kiss his wisps of dark curls and breathe in his warmth and newness and blood that is interwoven with yours.

“You could learn how to hate your own kind and claim the Cannibal,” Jace jokes.

You chuckle. “I don’t hate anyone.” Not here, not now.

Lady Caro arrives in the doorway carrying a tray of cinnamon tea. “I have come offering a trade,” she says, grinning, and shuffles excitedly across the room. She sets the tray down on the table by your chair and holds out her hands. Reluctantly, you surrender the baby. Lady Caro coos and beams at him as you and Jace sip cinnamon tea, sweet and loosing steam like morning mist into the air. “Surely by now you’ve made the logical decision to name him in my honor.”

“Carolei would be a very strange thing to call a boy,” Jace says.

“Caroson,” she jests.

You add: “Carogon. Carocaerys.”

“Awful!” Jace says, laughing.

“Have you been feeding the baby again?” Lady Caro scolds you. “We have wetnurses for that.”

“They get him all night. I want time with him too.”

“You’re barely even producing any milk. You’d make for a terrible goat.”

“Then I’ll nurse him for as long as I can.”

“You’ll end up with pitiful floppy breasts like mine.”

“Isn’t this what they’re for? Nourishing children, not being gawked at and tugged on by some man?”

Lady Caro turns to Jace, exasperated. “She has some disease. She can’t listen to anyone.”

He smiles. “She’s an untamable beast, I’m afraid. Burns up anyone who makes the attempt.”

Lord Corbray walks in, and nestled in his ancient arthritic hands is a sword in a sheath. There is a large heart-shaped ruby in the hilt. “Prince Jacaerys, I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it has been not only to host you and the princess here in our humble castle, but also to have a future king of the Seven Kingdoms born within our walls.”

Jace stands up straighter, as his mother would want him to. He’ll never look like the heir to the throne, like a Targaryen, but he can act like one. “We continue to be grateful for your hospitality.”

“To commemorate this happy occasion, I wish to gift you a cherished heirloom of my house. This is Lady Forlorn, made of Valyrian steel. She came to House Corbray over a century ago, and now I bequeath her to you. I hope she will aid you in your victory in this unjust war, and that all the realm will soon be at peace and under competent rulership.”

Jace looks at you uneasily; you pretend to be preoccupied drinking your tea. You ignore Lord Corbray’s slight against the Greens. You don’t have much choice, and you’ve had plenty of practice. Jace takes Lady Forlorn from Lord Corbray and unsheathes her, studying his reflection in the cold smoke-colored grey of the blade. His face is grave. Now he feels the weight on his shoulders of being not just a prince, an heir, a soldier, and a husband, but a father as well, something he himself never had in a way that was truthful and pure. You are alarmed to see tears gleaming in his dark eyes.

“Jace?” you say, touching his arm.

He regains his composure. “Thank you, Lord Corbray. I will treasure Lady Forlorn, and I will endeavor to always use her wisely.”

Lord Corbray smiles fondly at the slumbering baby in Lady Caro’s arms. Across the Riverlands, their sole surviving child, Jessamyn, is in hiding with her husband and children. At Lady Caro’s insistence, they fled from the Mallisters’ castle at Seagard in case Aemond and Vhagar descend upon it. He is still burning. A monster? you think. “I assume you’ve named your firstborn?”

You and Jace exchange a glance. You haven’t yet; you are afraid to discuss it with each other. There are so many possibilities—Targaryen or Velaryon or Strong—and none seem to be without some unspoken allegiance or condemnation. There are so few guiltless names left. But you think you know what Jace would choose if he dared to speak it aloud.

“We should name him after Luke,” you say. A boy, an innocent. A victim of a horrific accident that started this war.

Jace is surprised, but there is relief in his face too. “Lucerys?” he says, trying it out. Then he is solemn again. “It feels wrong to use the exact same name. Like I’m trying to replace him.”

“Lucerion,” Lady Caro suggests, still holding the baby. “It sounds like a prince’s name. It sounds like a king’s.”

Jace attaches Lady Forlorn to his belt and then takes the baby, obviously against Lady Caro’s will. “Lucerion,” Jace murmurs, smiling down at his son who is stirring awake and beginning to whimper. “Is that your name? Is that what we’ll call you?”

“Perhaps Luca for short,” you say from your chair, feeling drained and like you need to lie down. You’ll have to change your rags again soon, or you’ll bleed through them.

“Luca, the littlest dragon,” Jace proclaims, touching his fingertip to the baby’s puggish nose. Then he turns to you. “Did you have a nickname as a child? I always did and still do, of course. And Luke…” Jace trails off, thinking of his dead brother, murdered by yours.

You see your red bat traveling around the board; you feel the warmth of blood on your cheek. “They called me Red.”

“Red?” Jace is baffled. “Like the color?”

“There was a game we played when we were young, and my piece…” You close your eyes, not wanting to remember, not wanting to feel the weight of their absence. “It doesn’t matter. It was so long ago.” And you fear that Jace will hear the evasiveness in your voice and ask you more questions; but he is absorbed with the baby, and he has already forgotten.

Two days later Jace and Vermax fly south to King’s Landing, and you and Luca are left in the care of the Corbrays and the maids and the ghosts that haunt the drafty stone corridors of Heart’s Home, soldiers killed in the Riverlands and the Reach, women and children burned and starved, bones devoured by dragons, generations of names forgotten.

Sometimes you giggle with Lady Caro as you drink cinnamon tea in the Great Hall. Sometimes you stand in the castle rookery listening to the ravens caw and stare out into the cold mist of the mountains, wondering what is happening in the world outside. And sometimes you have Luca nestled in your arms and walk with him around your bedchamber, introducing him to the faces of the people you left in your old life, when you were called Red and you believed you could be someone like Visenya. But you never mention Aemond, and not just because there are no mosaics of him on the wall.

You wouldn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t know where to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

You learn Jace is back when he climbs into bed just as you are drifting off one night, silver moonlight spilling in through the glass of the window, his body folding into you, his arm skating over your waist to find your hand and weave his fingers through yours. Two months have passed since he left, moons that grow full and then vanish, milk that dries up and blood that ceases flowing and rebuilds inside you for the next child, if there will be one, when there will be one. Luca is sleeping in his own room with his maids and wetnurses. Jace’s curls tickle your throat as he nuzzles into you as if he wants to disappear.

He says: “The littlest dragon is much bigger than I remember.”

“How was Helaena?”

“Troubled, as is to be expected, but in good health. Jaehaera and Maelor are well too. King’s Landing is cold some days now. I think they’ll have snow soon. The taxes, the riots, the stockpiling of food as the Reach and the Riverlands burn…it’s a disaster. Mother is desperate. She misses Luke, I think. And Baela, and Daemon. She’s lost so much weight I barely recognized her. But she was very, very happy to hear about Luca. Hopefully she can meet him soon. Although we’ll have to be careful traveling with him while he’s so small, we’ll have to ensure he’s warm enough.”

Winter is coming, you think, remembering Cregan Stark’s army under the protection of Daemon and Caraxes. “Did you see Rhaena and the boys at the Eyrie?���

“I did,” Jace admits, as if it was a fraught experience.

“And what happened?”

“Rhaena called me a traitor.”

“For marrying and fathering a son with me?”

“No, that she understands,” Jace says. “But it is treason to love you.”

You turn around to look at him in the shadows, in the moonlight. “You told her?”

“She could tell. I cannot hide it. I am a glass jar and you and Luca are the butterflies inside.” And Jace kisses you softly, his fingers hooked beneath your chin, his flesh coming alive again after so long away: managing and conciliating, lifting Rhaenyra’s spirits, pawing through the heaps of bastards in King’s Landing for dragonriders, flying on Vermax through storms and snow.

When you kiss Jace back, when your hands go to his chest and his jaw and his face, when you open his tunic so you can feel the heat of his skin underneath, you are aware that parts of you are waking up again as well. There is a dull but definite ache of lust beginning to bloom like a blood drop soaking into white cotton.

“Are you…” Jace begins. “Do you think you’re healed enough, I mean…have you stopped bleeding?”

You hesitate. “I have.” You think of your first time with him and how painful it was, the sensation of burning, of tearing, and you can only assume it will be worse now. “But I’m rather terrified too.”

“No, no, don’t be afraid,” Jace whispers, he pleads, running his fingers through your long unbound hair. “We don’t have to do that. I won’t hurt you. I’ll wait for as long as you want.” His dark eyes travel down the white nightgown that clings to your body, your breasts, your belly, and then lower. “Can I…can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, bewildered. Then as Jace begins to push the hem of your nightgown up over your hips to your waist, you grin and kiss him again in the dim celestial light, cool night air rushing up over your bare legs, blood surging through your arteries to where he bends low to taste you once—a long, slow, tentative drag of the tongue—and then moans quietly and pushes your thighs further apart so he can bury himself there and lick, suck, swallow down your clear mineral wetness as it pools for him.

Something isn’t quite right—not enough pressure, not the ideal angle—but it’s exquisite to be reacquainted with this side of yourself, to know you can feel this way again, insatiable and desired. When you reach to touch Jace, there is a moment when you are startled to find dark curly hair in place of silk-smooth silver, and there is a ghost in the room like a voyeur watching, and you think dazedly: If Aemond knew about this, would he kill me?

“There,” you gasp, jolting as your husband stumbles upon the perfect place and rhythm. “Jace, right there…”

He listens, he is groaning with desperation for you, and you roll into a climax that is brief and sharp and a little painful, but good. Instead of being extinguished, you are a kindled flame. You turn over, straddle Jace, and unfasten his trousers. You begin kissing your way down his belly, nipping at him, your palm kneading his hardness, and you know he wants you but for some reason when you go to take him in your mouth, he pushes you away.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace says, alarmed.

“I know. I want to.”

“No, seriously. Stop.”

You look at him, wounded, rejected. “Jace, I’m not doing this out of obligation. I enjoy it.”

He is staring at the wall. “I just…for you to…I’m sorry, it just feels wrong.”

“I can do things you believe are only for whores and still be your wife.”

“Shh,” he says, and his voice is gentle but his face is pained. You think of something Criston once told you when you were collecting bones from the Godswood of the Red Keep: Red, it hurts your mother when you’re like this. Are you cursed to disappoint people, to repulse them, to be eternally misunderstood? “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

Jace gets out of bed and fetches a small wooden box he must have brought into the room with him when you were still half-asleep. He opens the box, debates whether to reach in, decides against it and passes you the whole box instead. “I asked the castle maester to procure some while I was away…”

You squeal with delight when you see what’s inside: three black and white bats the same breed as Sapphire was, large fanlike ears and wiggling noses and small black eyes that peer curiously up at you. When you offer them your open palms, they immediately scramble into them.

“I hope they’re good ones.” Jace chuckles nervously. “I don’t really know what makes a bat suitable or not.”

“They’re perfect,” you say, smiling. “I’ll build them a roost. I’ll introduce them to Luca.”

Yet you cannot stop yourself from thinking: Aemond wouldn’t have cared if I was still bleeding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are snuggled up with Luca in your chair by the fire, cool midday light—the color of steel, smoke, rainclouds, ash—streaming in through the windows. The baby’s eyes have turned dark like Jace’s, and his curls grow longer. He is only half-awake and blinking drowsily, his diminutive hands clasping your fingers. He doesn’t cry often, but he doesn’t smile either. Lady Caro believes he already has the temperament of a good king, a calmness, a graveness. She says: How improper would it be for him to be full of complaints or cheerfulness, the way the world is right now? No, he ought to be serious. He ought to be grateful he’s not starving or being roasted alive.

“I have some new friends,” you whisper to the baby like a secret or a myth. “They’re asleep right now. They sleep all day, kind of like you do. But then at night they come alive and they’re free, and they fly around like hawks or dragons.”

You speak for Luca, a soft bird-trill of a voice: “What are their names?”

“Good question,” you say, smiling. “Iris, Shark, and Flood. And you’ll meet them soon.” Your eyes go to the mosaics on the walls. Jace hasn’t asked you to take them down, but he doesn’t acknowledge them either, except for the mosaic you made of him that hangs by the headboard of the bed. He beams at that one and calls it fine work. “You’ll meet the people I grew up with too. Aegon will make you wood carvings. Helaena will sew you blankets. Daeron will take you on adventures. Jaehaera and Maelor will play games with you. And Mother and Criston will love you because you won’t be like me. You’ll be sweet-tempered and honorable, and when you’re old enough you’ll have a dragon to help protect us with.”

There is a knock on the doorframe; one of Luca’s wetnurses has arrived to feed him. You regret that you can’t anymore. Lady Caro was right; you’d be a terrible goat or cow or yak.

“Princess,” the wetnurse says, curtsying before she takes the baby from you. You watch her leave with him for his own bedchamber—Lady Caro has already filled it with toys and children’s books—and as soon as they are out of sight, the darkness of your losses creeps back in like spiders scurrying down the corridors of your veins and arteries, like rust growing over steel. Then you hear the rumbling of voices downstairs in the Great Hall.

You stand and swish in your gown—one of the Vale’s anemic colors, a faint dusky rose—through the hallway and down the spiral staircase of the tower. In the belly of the castle, the commotion is louder, and you sweep into the Great Hall to find men gathered around the table closest to the roaring hearth, Lord Corbray and his knights and the maester, and Lady Caro too looking on anxiously. Jace is holding a piece of parchment in his hands, presumably just delivered by a raven. He shakes his head as he reads it. Outside, snow is falling.

Lady Caro is saying: “Well you’ll have to tell her. Oh, the poor dear, as if everything else isn’t bad enough. And only the gods know where Aemond is, he hasn’t been spotted in the Riverlands for days…” Then she spies you and shoos Lord Corbray and his men from the room. They bow to you as they depart, swift little bobs of the head. They have to; you are now both the wife and mother of future kings.

“Jace?” you say when the Great Hall is empty except for the two of you and Lady Caro.

Jace’s face is stricken. Lady Forlorn hangs from his belt. The letter is still clutched in his left hand; the right grips the hilt of his Valyrian steel sword. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” you ask, immediately horrified. Aegon dead of his burns, Daeron killed in battle, Mother executed for treason, Aemond…? “What happened?”

“You have to believe that I had no idea about any of this, I never would have given Hugh the order if I’d been there, or let Mother do it—”

“Jace, please tell me.”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond??

Instead, Jace says absurdly: “It’s Helaena.”

You stare at him. “Helaena isn’t a warrior.”

“No,” he agrees. “But she got to Dreamfyre somehow and tried to escape the city.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

That’s impossible. She wouldn’t leave Mother and the children. “No, she couldn’t have, she—”

“She took flight,” Jace insists. “And my mother sent Hugh Hammer after her on Vermithor.”

Vermithor was supposed to be mine, you think numbly. “And Helaena, she…she was…?”

Jace is trying to keep his voice steady; his dark eyes gleam, begging you not to hate him. “Dreamfyre attacked when Vermithor flew close to her. She wasn’t an especially aggressive dragon, but she was large and formidable, and she fought to defend her own life and that of her rider. Vermithor ripped out her throat, though Hugh was burned to death in the saddle. Then Vermithor flew eastward, and no one knows where he is now. Dreamfyre crashed to the earth, and Helaena with her. Their bodies were found on the beach outside the Red Keep.”

She can’t be dead. She never hurt anyone. She just wanted to be with her creatures and her family. She embroidered my blankets with red bats, she put ladybugs into my open palms. “Why would Helaena try to run, why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

You think nonsensically, as you have no way of knowing this: Because she was trying to stop something terrible from happening. “I told you to give her more freedom. And that freedom allowed her to sneak away to the Dragonpit.”

Jace reaches for you. “This isn’t your fault—”

“All of it ismy fault!” you shout at him, and Lady Caro shrinks away and covers her mouth with her hands. “If I’d had Vermithor, the Greens would have been unstoppable! And Rhaenyra never would have tried to claim the throne, and Aemond wouldn’t have been sent to Storm’s End, and Luke and Jaehaerys and Baela wouldn’t have died, and Aegon wouldn’t have been burned, and Aemond wouldn’t be destroying the Riverlands, and Helaena would still be alive, but instead I’ve always been useless!”

“You aren’t useless,” Jace pleads.

“Not normal enough to be a good wife or daughter, not extraordinary enough to have a dragon!”

Again, Jace tries to touch you, to soothe you. “Please don’t—”

You fling his hands away. “What was our marriage for if not to stop this from happening?! To end the dying, to protect the people we have left?” You whirl away from him and flee from the Great Hall, the castle, yourself. Behind you, Lady Caro is comforting Jace with soft tenderness you’ve never been capable of.

“Let her go, my prince,” she is counselling. “Give her a moment to grieve…”

You throw open the first door you pass and trudge out into the snow, no fox fur coat, bare feet. The cold stings and then your skin goes numb and it doesn’t bother you anymore. The icy mountain wind tears at your hair, flowing in long waves like the women of the Vale wear it, delicate and feminine, pretty and powerless. Tears cascade down your face; currents of red magma scorch your throat. When you close your eyes, you see the yellow butterfly that was once Helaena’s game piece.

She never hurt anyone. She never did anything wrong.

Now you are under the shadows of the soaring pine trees, their green needles so thick you cannot see the grey of the sky.

She never met Luca.

You gaze up into the branches, covered with tufts of white snow and icicles like fangs, and you have the overwhelming, ravenous feeling that you need to go home. You don’t belong in the Vale. The Vale almost killed you when you were a child, Aemond’s hands shoving you into a rushing stream freckled with ice.

And then all at once—like you’ve been hit, like you’ve been stabbed with a blade—you are flying high above the castle and the wind is raking over your cheeks, but it is not your face but Aemond’s, half-blind and half-scarred, torrential red waves of a sea of blood in his skull.

He’s here, he’s here—

And if he’s able to see through your eyes that you are outside in the forest…

The castle!!!

You bolt through the trees back towards Heart’s Home, your bare feet leaving tracks in the fresh powdery snow that is nearly up to your knees, and you stumble out of the shadows just as Vhagar soars overhead and unleashes her flames on the castle, wood burning, stones collapsing, people inside shrieking as they incinerate. You’re screaming for Aemond to stop, but he does not hear you and he does not see you either, he is high above in a place you’ve never been and never will be, he is flying, and he is hearing only devastation and he is breathing in its dark, intoxicating smoke, and as Vhagar swoops by the stable and it bursts into an inferno���horses galloping loose and engulfed in fire, dead but not knowing it yet—you run into the crumbling castle.

“Jace?!” you shout, but the air is full of smoke and the sounds of wood cracking and stones caving in are deafening. You feel blindly for the spiral staircase that leads up to the tower where your and Luca’s bedchambers are located. From the part of the castle that was once the Great Hall, you can hear Lord Corbray and Lady Caro screaming as their skin blisters and sloughs away and their flesh is cooked and their bones are charred black, and when the flames reach their lungs the screams go quiet. You cannot think about them. You don’t have any time; you must think of Luca and Jace. “Jace!” you bellow through the smoke.

And then there is a weak reply: “Here.”

You follow it into the stairwell. Parts of the wall have been blasted away; you can see the pine forest outside, the cold barren sky, the Mountains of the Moon. Jace is halfway up the steps, slumped against the fractured wall and pinned there by stones that have rained down on his legs. His bones must be broken; his face is bloodless and his curls matted to his forehead by sweat. His right hand fumbles futilely for the hilt of Lady Forlorn. Now, dimly, you can hear Luca crying.

Jace rasps as he stares vacantly up at you: “I tried to get to him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jace, I can do it.”

“I love you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

You climb over him and chase Luca’s wails up the staircase. Vhagar is back, and the ruins of the castle tremble when she roars, and you feel the heat of her flames radiating up through the floor. You lose your footing and clamber up the last few steps on your hands and knees, then manage to stand again and careen into Luca’s room. Half the roof has collapsed; a wetnurse is sprawled on the floor and half-buried in fallen stones, blood hemorrhaging out of her mouth and ears. You grab the baby out of his cradle and quickly bundle him in his blanket patterned with blue dragonflies. His tiny hands grasp at your face and your hair as you rush back down the spiral staircase to help Jace. Smoke needles your eyes; you and Luca are both coughing as you try to clear your lungs.

You reach Jace and kneel beside him, holding Luca in your left arm and using your right to try to roll the stones off Jace’s legs, but he’s not helping you.

“Jace, please, we have to go now,” you say, but when you look at his face he’s not there. His dark eyes are glassy, his chest doesn’t rise and fall with the tide of air.

He’s gone, you think. Like Father, Luke, Jaehaerys, Baela, Rhaenys, Helaena. And you are struck by an excruciating pang of fondness for Jace more forceful than anything you ever felt for him when he was alive, and you cannot leave him here. He was your husband, he was Luca’s father. And he loved you. He must have. He said it over and over again.

“Jace?” you sob. But outside Vhagar is still flying—the gales churned up by her wings gust into the jagged holes in the castle walls—and she could be coming back, she could be returning to burn you, and Jace is dead but the baby is still alive.

You clutch Luca to you as he cries and you race down the steps, following the smoke-filled, twisted passageway. The heat is suffocating, the sounds of a dying castle engulfing, Heart’s Home turned into a graveyard, into a shattered skeleton, charred and cursed like Harrenhal. You crash through the door at the base of the stairwell and into the ground level of the castle, and you are almost out—

Something ignites, something explodes, and stones from the castle wall you are feeling your way along rip out of their centuries-old mortar and collide with you. Your ribs crack, you are thrown to the floor, but even as you scream and claw your way out of the rubble you don’t let go of the baby. You force yourself upright and stagger with Luca towards a gaping chasm where there was once a wall. There is a tremor like an earthquake. Outside, Vhagar must be landing.

Now you are in the snow again, bare feet and a gown covered with soot and wreckage. The baby isn’t crying anymore. When you glance down at the blanket he is swaddled in, the white space between the blue dots of dragonflies is turning red with blood.

Blood?

You can’t look. You can’t allow yourself to feel it; it will consume you until there is nothing left. The last vestiges of the castle are crumpling. Across the field, Vhagar is devouring Vermax’s small, broken corpse, crushing his bones in her massive, monstrous jaws.

Blood??

Aemond’s footsteps are behind you, crunching in the snow. His cloak cracks in the frigid wind like the sails of a ship. His words are full of dark, euphoric, lethal triumph, a high like nothing he’s ever known, not even when he claimed Vhagar, not even what he imagined he would feel on your wedding day when you’d be bound to each other with fire and blood in the tradition of Old Valyria. “I said I would find you, and I did.”

You hear your own voice as if from a very far distance, lightning strikes miles away but moving closer. “You killed him.”

Aemond is puzzled. You are supposed to be happy. You are saved, you are home. “Killed who?”

“He’s dead, and there will never be another. Not like this one. Jace was his father, but Jace is gone. You killed him too.”

And you turn to face him, and Aemond sees what you are holding in your arms, and only then does he understand.

[crybaby-bkg]

you know what’s absolutely terrifying???? having to cut a baby’s nails………

Katsuki has to cut your baby’s fingernails when he discovers a tiny little scratch by her eye one morning. it’s barely there, a small thing, but it’s there, marring her little face nonetheless. he frowns at her when he holds her the next morning, her dreamy eyes alert and blinking up at him, she smiles.

“Now I gotta cut yer claws down,” he mutters to her, voice quiet as to not wake your sleeping form in the bedroom. he pads throughout the house with her chubby face resting on his shoulder, her gums gnawing at his bare skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

he finds himself in a conundrum though, once he realizes just how fucking—how sharp the damn clippers are. they’re tiny, lavender in color, but they’re meant to cut though the nail with such precision. and yes, he’s a pro hero, has had to adopt the title of EMT, firefighter, emergency surgeon a few times in his life when need be.

but…those people weren’t his baby girl. they weren’t this tiny and precious, and they never looked up at him with a face so similar to his, it makes his heart squeeze tight in his chest. he frowns at her again, even deeper, and this makes her hiccup a little giggle, gummy smile spreading wide.

“You’re only gonna wear mittens from here on out,” he grumbles after a while, finally daring to pick up a tiny hand that she instantly curls around his thick finger. it’s the cutest image, he thinks to himself, but he catches sight of the jagged nail, the culprit. his heart squeezes even tighter though, when he realizes that he can’t protect her from every hurt in the world, even if the hurt comes from her own hands. and the realization is an aching one, but he tells himself that he, at least, can patch her up.

you walk in minutes later, find Bakugou curled over your daughter in the rocking chair he built for her room. his tongue pokes from the corner of his mouth in concentration, his eyebrows furrowed. your daughter babbles to him the whole time, her sweet voice cooing the softest little noises that he responds back to.

“I know, I know,” he mumbles to her. “Ya don’t like baths, and don’t like your nails cut, either. What other shit do you hate, huh?” he asks, and she seemingly responds with a long, sighed out coo. it makes him smile, despite the way his hands slightly shake when he cuts the next nail. he’s terrified, of somehow hurting her even more, of cutting too close, of scratching her. but he treks on, and kisses her fat little fingers every time he clips another nail.