#the lost boys x child!reader

[l0stglitch]

Omg ik we just got completely broken in the last request but imagine the one day we’re walking around the boardwalk and we see this helpless kitty so we try and help it ofc you forgot to tell your dad so there pissed but they kidnapped you when you were a helpless kitty in there eyes so why can’t you do the same?? sorry if this doesn’t make sense and for bad spelling :,/

History repeats itself

Platonic Yandere lost boys x reader

Notes- Sorry I know this isn’t exactly what you asked but I thought your request would tie perfectly into a part 2 of the last fic/hcs.

Warnings- Depression, Mental illness, Angst(?), Yandere behaviour, Dissociation

Part 1

It had been five weeks since your cruel punishment had ended, and nothing had improved.

David watched you from his wheelchair throne, not even bothering to hide his concern. Marko was sat to your right, an arm slung round your shoulder as he quietly read to you.

It was a quiet evening in the middle of October. You used to love Halloween, but this year David wasn’t even sure you were aware of the approaching holiday.

He so desperately wished you would snap out of this strange state of mind. Even if just to scream at him and call him an awful father- anything was better than this. It was like someone had stolen every part of your mind linked to you and replaced it with a numb, complacent animal.

“Y/n you haven’t left the cave in a while, sweetheart. Why don’t we go to that diner you like in town?”

Your eyes slowly tore themselves from the page and met with David’s. It broke his heart to see how empty they looked. “Ok.”

Marko frowned, “You used to love that place, pumpkin. Not feeling up to burgers tonight?”

Your only response was a small shrug as you shifted your attention back to the book resting in his right hand.

Your two fathers exchanged a worried glance. Marko squeezed your shoulder sympathetically before continuing to read.

David sighed and stood up, “I’ll go let the others know.”

You hadn’t realised in your state of depression, but things had grown tense between your fathers. Dwayne in particular had become noticeably colder towards David.

Said man was cleaning your room for you. A somewhat futile attempt at trying to win you over, David assumed. Either that or he was trying to distract himself from the distressing reality of the situation.

David leant against your doorframe, watching as Dwayne carefully folded your freshly washed clothes.

“You just gonna pretend I’m not here?”

Dwayne finally looked up from his task, “Wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk or just watch me folding our daughter’s clothes.”

David narrowed his eyes at the man before him, but decided not to argue, “We were gonna take the kid to that burger place if you guys wanted to join.” He glanced over at Paul, who was sprawled across your couch with a cigarette.

Dwayne glared back at David, “The kid has a name, David. It’s Y/n.”

He huffed, “Are you coming or not man?”

“Of course I’m coming. She’s my daughter as much as she is yours.” Dwayne shot back, grabbing his leather jacket before striding out the room to go find you.

Paul stood up as well, shooting David a wary glance before brushing past him in pursuit of Dwayne.

David sighed in frustration before following his two partners out the room.

He returned to find Marko helping you into your jacket. You stared off into space passively, allowing him to guide you arms into the sleeves.

David frowned at the sight. You would’ve never let him do that before.

Dwayne cleared his throat, “I’ll take her over to the bikes.” Marko glanced up at him before looking back at you.

“You wanna ride with Dwayne, baby?” His tone was uncharacteristically gentle, as if he was trying not to spook you.

Your only response was a shrug, which he took as a yes, allowing the other man to take your hand and lead you out the cave.

David watched you leave before turning to Marko. “She spoken to you yet?”

The shorter man shrugged uncomfortably, “Not really. She’s like a zombie.”

“Hey man- she’s still our daughter,” Paul interjected with an offended frown.

Marko raised his hands in defense, “I know! That kid means the fucking world to me, but I’m not gonna sit here and pretend something isn’t wrong.”

Paul just scowled at him before turning around and leaving to join you and Dwayne outside.

“Well this is fucking fantastic. Now they’re both pissed off.” David grumbled under his breath.

Marko ignored the statement, “You think she’ll get better?”

David hummed, “She’s a strong kid.”

He frowned at the half answer, “I guess so.”

“Cmon. The others are waiting for us out there.”

Marko didn’t reply as he grabbed the keys to his bike and lead the way out, trying to hide his concern about your deteriorating state.

They hadn’t even left and things had already become tense. This was going to be a long night.

By the time David reached the others, Dwayne had already gotten you sat on the back of his bike, arms wrapped half heartedly around his midsection.

“She ready to go?” David asked, catching Dwayne’s eye.

The other man simply revved his engine and turned his attention over to the space ahead.

David rolled his eyes and mounted his own ride, growing tired of Dwayne’s attitude. Had it been Marko or Paul, he would have already put a stop to it, but Dwayne wasn’t as easy to order around.

Being the oldest meant that whilst he wasn’t as hotheaded and rash as the others, he did stand his ground in arguments. They didn’t occur often, but when they did it affected the whole pack.

Dwayne didn’t wait for David to adjust himself. His bike raced ahead without warning, leaving the others to catch up.

~

Despite the borderline overwhelming smell of greasy junk food, you couldn’t muster enough energy to eat the meal before you.

A delicate voice in the back of your mind reminded you of your need for food, but no pangs of hunger could overpower the numbness you had felt since David had chained you to the wall.

Dwayne rubbed your knee from under the table and leant in closer so you could hear him properly, “I know you don’t feel hungry baby, but you gotta eat some of it.”

You remained silent, focusing your attention on the bubbles fizzing in your coke.

“How about you try some of the fries?”

Still, no response came from your mouth. All thoughts withered away before your mind was able to comprehend any intelligent idea about the external world around you. You didn’t know if you wanted the fries or not. They tasted good- you knew that, but the taste of what you were eating seemed so much more trivial now.

What was the point in making the effort? They wouldn’t last long anyway. You’d be better off just giving them away to the scrappy kids lingering around the car park.

Dwayne sighed beside you. “Do you know how much it hurts seeing you like this princess? Please just eat the fries for me, Y/n. I don’t wanna lose my baby girl.”

You looked up from the coke and accidentally locked eyes with David. He was watching you with an expectant stare, his icy blue eyes boring into yours.

Normally you would’ve squirmed under the attention, but it no longer affected you the way it used to. “I’m not hungry,” You replied, voice raspy and quiet. It didn’t matter what volume you spoke at- they’d be able to hear every word even if you had whispered.

David sighed, “You haven’t eaten since yesterday. We’re not leaving this diner till you finish those fries.” You shifted your gaze back to your plate as he spoke, “You can’t force me to eat.”

Marko glanced over at you from his seat beside David, “Wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.” Dwayne sharply kicked him under the table, eliciting a hiss of pain. You didn’t react. They definitely could force you to eat if it came down to it, but you knew that all four of them were still walking on eggshells around you. It wouldn’t be worth the risk. Dwayne shot Marko a stern glare before speaking to you, “We’re not gonna force you to do anything baby. If you don’t want the fries that’s ok. We could go get you something else if you want?”

You continued staring meekly down at your full plate of food. This one sided conversation had began to tire you, and you didn’t see the point in answering Dwayne’s constant questions. In the end it didn’t matter- if you didn’t make a decision then they’d make one for you. You were happy to just let them take the reins, allowing you to fall into a state of dissociation.

David made a clicking sound with his tongue and locked eyes with Dwayne, “Can I have a word?”

The brunette hesitated, shooting you another concerned glance before standing up from his chair and moving out of earshot. David was quick to follow.

Dwayne frowned as he walked over, “What do you want, David?”

The man shoved his gloved hands deep into the pockets of his trench coat, “We can’t keep tiptoeing round her like this man.”

“Well what do you suggest?” Dwayne snapped back, “We tried things your way, and look where it fucking got us. Our daughter is practically unresponsive and showing no signs of improvement. All this because you thought that she needed to be isolated for two months.”

David scoffed, “Yeah, well we all know that your ‘gentle parenting’ act is not only complete bullshit, but also fucking ineffective. As for Marko, you think breaking her legs would’ve been any better than this?”

At the mention of his name, Marko glanced up from the food in front of him. Both he and Paul had heard the whole of their argument, but neither had wanted to get involved.

Dwayne shoved David back, his eyes flashing gold momentarily. “This is your fault David! Look what you’ve done- she’s broken.”

David gritted his teeth, suddenly aware of the attention they had gained from the other customers. He lowered his voice and took a step closer to Dwayne, “I can fix this. You don’t.. understand her mind the way I do.”

He glared back at David, “I’ve walked her dreams countless times. I think I know our daughter’s mind well enough.”

The other man just shook his head, almost condescendingly, “No.. not like that. You just don’t get it- you never will. It’s not something that can be learned. It’s instinct.”

“Well your ‘instincts’ to have her chained to a wall for two months seemed a little off.”

David opened his mouth to argue back, but was cut off before he had a chance to speak. “She’s not eating anything guys. We should just, like, take her to the beach or something. Perhaps she needs a little fresh air…” Paul suggested, trying to focus their attention on something else.

David paused, caught off guard by the interruption. Apparently Dwayne hadn’t seen Paul approaching either, because he stayed silent too.

“Yeah I think Paul’s got a point,” Marko added, standing up and nodding towards the other man. He rounded the table and pulled you to your feet, wrapping an arm round your shoulders possessively. “Should we go?” He asked pointedly, his voice bordering on threatening.

David nodded and Dwayne took a step forward as if he wanted to pull you out of Marko’s hold, but then stopped himself and hummed in agreement.

You stared at the grime on the floor- it sort of reminded you of the cave. The hand that rested on your shoulder gave it a squeeze before you were guided outside the diner. Nothing felt real. The voices around you sounded different, and your body felt alien to you. Perhaps you would see a stranger if you looked into a mirror. Perhaps not. Did it even matter anymore? This wasn’t your life. This wasn’t happening.

“She’s completely out of it man,” Paul murmured to Dwayne, eyeing you as they walked towards the bikes. “Our baby’s in there somewhere… she’s gotta be.” Dwayne replied, trying to keep the doubt out of his own voice.

Marko turned around to address the others, “I’m gonna take Y/n on my bike.” Despite him usually being the most reckless driver, nobody argued back. Paul hummed before speaking up, “So we’re still going to the beach, right?” His eyes darted between each of his lovers, searching for confirmation. David nodded in response, “Yeah, unless anyone else has a better idea?”

“Nah man, the beach is fine,” Marko replied as they finally reached the bikes. Mounting his ride, your father turned to help you up, only to find you had disappeared from your previous spot.

He frantically twisted around, “Where the fuck-”

Paul’s barking laugh cut him off, “Chill out dude, she’s right there!” If Marko hadn’t been dead, he was sure his heart would’ve been pounding from within his chest.

“What the hell is she doing?”

That question was a little harder to answer. Whilst your fathers had been talking, you’d found yourself drawn to a small black cat huddled against a nearby fence. The poor thing was shivering against the October wind, its scrappy black fur doing little to protect itself from the weather.

For the first time in months you felt something other than empty detachment. You couldn’t describe the emotion- it felt strange and alien to you, but there was no denying it was there.

This tiny, helpless creature seemed akin to you in every way. Those lost eyes, constantly searching for a meaning, bore into yours with an eery familiarity.

You found yourself unconsciously reaching towards the cat, offering a trembling hand. The frightened animal hesitated before your crouched form. Your voice was hoarse and quiet when you spoke to it, “It’s ok. I can keep you safe.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had subconsciously projected all of your repressed trauma onto this cat. A sudden overwhelming desire to protect and nurture filled you. Instinctively, you picked up the kitten and brought her close to your chest, stroking her soft fur before turning around and staring up at the four men behind you.

Your fathers watched in startled silence as you turned to look at them. Your eyes held more emotion than they had seen in months, and you held each of their gazes with a resolved stare. It was obvious you weren’t going to let go of the cat, David noted, glancing down at the black scrap of fur.

Marko cautiously took a step closer, crouching down to your level. “Hey sweetie.. who’s this?” He asked softly, motioning towards to animal.

For a moment, you stayed silent. How were you going to explain to them that this cat was you? Perhaps not physically, but you were convinced that spiritually you two were the same.

After earning no response, Marko tried again. “Does she have a name?” You nodded slowly, “It’s pumpkin.”

Marko frowned, “But that’s my name for you. Maybe we should call her something else?” You shook your head, “Her name is pumpkin.”

Your father sighed. The name sort of made sense- considering the fact that the cat had remarkably bright orange eyes. It irked him a little though that you had given his pet name for you to a mere animal you had found on the street.

“She’s cold; I need to take her home.” Marko watched as you abruptly stood up and carried Pumpkin back over to the bikes. This sudden change in demeanour was perplexing, but not entirely unwelcome.

You stopped in front of Dwayne, tilting your head expectantly at him. He shifted uncomfortably, “Why don’t you ride with Marko, baby? He’s good with animals.”

Paul sniggered behind him, “You’re not scared, are ya bud?” Dwayne rolled his eyes, “Just don’t want it scratchin’ up my jacket.”

You ignored their banter, bringing Pumpkin over to Marko so that he’d be able to help you up onto his bike. “You sure you wanna keep her?” He asked you quietly, glancing down at the kitten in your arms.

You nodded certainly, eyes sparkling dangerously under the streetlight, entranced by an obsession they recognised all too well.

“She’s mind now. She’s staying with me.”

Tag list- @bella-goths-wife @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @whatispopping69 @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @humbuginmybones

I guess this is my Christmas present to you guys! Sorry it took me so long to post. 😅

[knyontop]

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

Being a little lost kid in neverland! >0< thought this was rly cute <3

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

[bella-goths-wife]

Paul not knowing how to take care of baby reader:

REAL

Love this

[tac-the-unseen]

[trashvampiree]

having adhd is crazy i just got home from hanging out with friends but im so hyper im like about to run up the walls and hang on the ceiling but I cant so im sitting here about to explode ANYWAYS in my head Marko and Paul get hyper like this after being on the boardwalk so they go home and actually run up the cave walls and start biting eachother (this is so incomprehensible)

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

[targaryen-dynasty]

REDAMANCY.

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

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

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

WORDS: 3.3 K

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

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cregan Taglist: @nats-whore @aemondsbabe

[jacesvelaryons]

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

[entitled-fangirl]

Fatherhood.

Single father!Cregan Stark x reader

Summary: the reader comes across a young boy. It seems the boy's worried father becomes quite taken with her.

A/n: He's got cheekbones sharp enough to kill a man 👀

Part 2

Masterlist

..........................................

She gasped when something grabbed her leg. 

The lady looked down to see a small boy, no older than two, holding her leg tightly. "Oh."

She ran a hand over the boy's hair as she looked around for someone, anyone in the crowd—his parents or her guard. Neither were in sight, it seemed. 

So she managed to pry him away enough to bend down to his level. 

"Where are your parents?" She whispered to him. 

When he didn't answer, she brushed his hair back from his forehead. "That's alright. We'll find them, yeah? They must be missing you fearsomely. What is your name?"

The boy stared with watery eyes. 

"Well," the lady continued, "Will you let me help you?"

The boy managed a nod and accepted the hug she offered him. 

She thanked the merchant that she had been speaking to and picked up the boy, now focusing her attention on the people rather than the goods they were selling. 

Darkish hair, she assumed from the boy's looks. Someone with blue eyes. Surely he was precious to someone.

"Hey," she lightly reprimanded when he tucked his face into her neck. "I need you to look for them. I don't know what…" Her voice trailed off. The boy was tired and scared and she could hardly blame him.

She roamed the long street once over, just looking for someone that lost their child. A worrisome mother or a stern father. But nothing. 

She sighed, rubbing the boy's back, "Father won't like this."

She continued on as before, shopping lightly with the boy in her arms. Her heart was warmed by the soft snores that came from his small body.

She walked down the cobble road, noticing a guard whose eyes lit up at the sight of her. It sent her on edge. She turned the other way. 

Another guard was coming from that direction. She froze. 

Trying another way, she tried to use the crowd to manage around them, but was met with another guard, quite literally running into him. She backed up in fear, her free hand over the boy's head as if she could protect him. 

"Hand over the boy, my lady."

They looked so angry. "N-No." She tried to display confidence but that's hardly what she accomplished. "Whatever the boy did, I can pay for-"

"My lady!" Her guard's voice came through. 

Her guard, Ser Marten, pushed through the guards and the crowd that seemed to not even notice the chaos that was happening. 

He pulled an arm around her. "Are you alright, my lady?"

She nodded and looked at the other guards. Her eyes flitted down to the sigil that laid on their cloaks. 

Stark. 

She feared Lord Stark was more cruel than she made him out to be, having three grown men chase down a small boy. 

"I won't ask again. Hand over the boy," one of the guards tried again.

"Ser," Ser Marten tried to ease. "Whatever the boy has done can be paid-"

The guard behind her reached out and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck. 

Ser Marten's eyes widened, and he pulled his sword from its sheath. "Unhand her."

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" A loud voice echoed through the street. 

The crowd practically split in two as the great Lord Cregan Stark ran to them. "Where-" He paused. "You've found him, my lady?"

Her brow furrowed. "W-What?"

"Unhand her and go," Cregan barked at the guards. "And you," he ordered Ser Marten, "Do sheath your sword. I'll not have violence on my streets."

Ser Marten blinked and did as he said. 

"You may go as well."

Marten looked between the two, only stepping back at the sight of his lady's nod. 

With him gone, she felt vulnerable. 

Cregan held his arms out, expecting her to hand him the boy. 

She turned away from him out of instinct, shielding the boy. "I-"

He frowned. "My lady." He extended his arms further. 

"Whatever he's done, my lord, I can pay for. I am not the richest and I hardly know what House Stark would want, but I can try. Please, don't hurt him."

Cregan's mouth opened in a reaction of shock. He tilted his head. She was more than meets the eye. "My lady, I am only a worried father. Please."

A feeling of embarrassment filled her stomach. "Oh." She pulled the boy out in her arms, seeing that, indeed, the Sigil of house Stark laid on the boy's chest. "Oh, forgive me!"

Cregan took his son with caring hands, careful not to wake him. "Oh, my boy," he sighed as he held him close to his chest. "Gods, I've never felt fear like this." He closed his eyes, not caring if he seemed weak for a moment. He was a terrified father and he wasn't afraid to seem it.

"Do forgive me, my lord. I-I didn't not realize-"

"-You did not realize that you held my future, the future of the North, in your arms?" He let out a breath of a laugh. "I owe you greatly." He looked down at the sigil on her cloak. "Lady Bolton? Are you Lord Bolton's new wife?"

She flushed. "No. NO. I am his daughter." She smoothed down her skirt in embarrassment. 

"Ah, forgive me. I thought his second wife was young. Perhaps I was mistaken."

"You weren't," she assured. "She's not much my elder. An honest mistake."

"But you are still of House Bolton? Unmarried, I mean?" He asked.

"Yes, as of the current time, yes."

He nodded with the information. "Strange to see a childless woman with such motherly instincts. He seemed quite content with you."

"He was quite frightened to be alone."

Cregan hummed. "Let me reward you. You've protected my boy and returned him to me."

"No, I couldn't-"

"-Nonsense. It's the very least I could do."

She watched the boy stir in the large man's arms. His tiny hand gripped Cregan's fur cloak tightly, as if finally feeling the full comfort of his home again. "Knowing I've done you a service is gratitude enough for me."

"Please." He looked around. "Are you alone, my lady? Surely I would have heard of Lord Bolton's arrival before this."

She nodded. "I come to the market every few months. This is the only place I've found dried lavender. Father says I have an obsession," she laughs. "Perhaps so. But I'm old enough now of course to journey alone. With my guard."

"And have you found it this time?" 

"Hmm?"

"The lavender?"

"Oh. Um," she looks around. "No, I haven't."

Cregan sighs. "That's a shame. Are you sure you won't accept a reward?"

She smiles. "Truly. I am sure." She reached out to brush the boy's hair, but stops herself when she realizes how inappropriate that is now that she knows it's Stark's son. "G'day, Lord Stark."

He stops her before she can turn to leave. "Lady Bolton. Do I get a first name?"

"Y/n."

He repeats it, as if committing it to memory. "Good day, my lady. I won't forget your kindness."

…

Cregan was honest about that. He didn't forget her kindness.

…

"My lady."

Her handmaiden interrupts her quiet time. 

"There's a gift for you, my lady."

Her eyes lit up. "What? From who?"

"I'm not sure. Shall I bring it in?"

She nodded and watched the woman disappear for a moment before reappearing with a small cloth sack.

She took the bag with nimble fingers, pulling it open. 

Dried Lavender. 

A small letter laid inside, sealed with wax, but no sigil.

A small gift to represent my gratitude.  - A relieved father

She let out a breath. How thoughtful of him to scour the market for this, even after she was unable to find it. 

"Who is it from, my lady?"

"Just a man I helped back in Winterfell."

"Well, how thoughtful."

Yes, she thought, Cregan Stark was quite the thoughtful man.

…

Cregan sat at his council meeting, his boy, Rickon, sitting in his lap, tapping his wooden horse against the table as he played with it. The northern lord hardly noticed the sound at this point, the boy's antics becoming second nature to him. 

"I agree, my lord," one of his councilmen spoke, "perhaps that would be best for the North."

A servant interrupted. "Forgive me, my lord. But it's a letter."

Cregan's mind snapped as he looked up. "Is it? Hand it here."

The servant walked it over to him and dismissed himself.

Cregan's fingers brushed over the wax. 

The Bolton sigil. 

He could practically feel his hands shake as he opened it.

My heart is lightened at the news of your relief.  I thank you for your gift. It was more gracious than I fear I deserved. I'll remain in awe of how you managed to find exactly what I had failed to.  My house, my father, and I as well, remain loyal to you.  - Y/n Bolton

"My lord?" One of the men asked lightly.

Cregan looked up from the letter.  "Write urgently to Lord Bolton. I have an offer."

Cregan tutted lightly when Rickon reached out for the letter. "Easy, son. This is your father's keepsake."

…

My dear lady,  I fear writing yet another letter to you may be deemed inappropriate to some, but they do not understand the kinship we share.  My son grows by the day, and still, I remember the day you and I met so starkly.  Take this gift, and dare I ask that you think of me when you wear it. - A content father

The bottom of the letter was all scribbles and scratches from the quill, no doubt something that his son had added. It made her heart warm, like perhaps maybe the babe was trying to say something to her as well.

Her eyes wandered to the dress that he had gifted. A Stark blue. She thought it perhaps a bit too bold for the man, but she wouldn't deny his wishes. 

Her father may question it, but he couldn't refuse such a thing. 

She took out a quill.

…

I am starting to believe that you have overdone your gratitude. I fear as a young lady, I have not much to give, but perhaps it is true that the thought of a gift is greater than the price or amount of the object itself. I find that this specific type of fabric strips make for wonderful ties for the hair. I mean no harm, but I did notice the way you grew annoyed at the hair in your eyesight when we met.  I'm going to send this now before I realize the intent of my actions and grow embarrassed.  Do tell your son I enjoyed his drawings per your last letter. - Y/n Bolton

Cregan held the fabric strips in his hand, rubbing the soft material. 

How ink on a page could make his heart feel alive, he wasn't sure.

…

Cregan spent the next two days in contemplation. 

While he wanted to immediately write her back, he knew that he should wait. The letter to her father surely arrived at that point, and he didn't wish to seem overly hasty.

But when another letter from her arrived, he almost ripped it in earnest to view its contents.

I fear our letters must come to an end.  My father had spoken of a marriage proposal and it seems quite unladylike to be writing such letters. Though we two know of our kinship, I fear it is unfair to my future betrothed.  Please forgive me, and know that this was not of my choosing.  - Y/n

He paused at her lack of a last name. 

She wrote as if she had no idea. Her father hadn't told her the entire truth. 

He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands over his eyes. He wanted to ease her worries, tell her the truth, but it was not yet his place, and he was to wait for her father's response. 

But it ate at him. What if Bolton was truly marrying her to another? It made him sick. 

There was a sound in the doorway. 

Cregan looked up to see Rickon standing with his toy on ground, obviously fallen from his hand. He smiled at him, "Hello, son."

Rickon took his time leaning down to get his horse, then took steps around the long table until he got to his father. 

Cregan waited patiently, not wanting to rush or correct his boy, but once Rickon was close enough, he reached out and held him up in the air. The little son's squeals filled him with joy. He brought him down to kiss the boy's cheek then set him on his lap to face him. "What have you been doing, my boy?"

Rickon set his horse on Cregan's chest, his attention enamored on it. 

The lord brushed his son's hair from his face with a longing look. "Think I'll get to hear that voice anytime soon?"

Rickon hit his horse against the man's chest, causing a sigh to come from his father. 

"Well, maybe eventually, hm?"

Everything sat in such uncertainty. He only hoped that it all worked out as he had planned it.

........................................

A/n: part 2

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[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Hero (Chosen One) x Saint!Reader

In all of his life, Elias only remembers crying once. It was when he was a young boy, no older than six years old. He had been taken to the Church for a baptism, only for his holy power and status as the Chosen One to be revealed. He had then been stolen from his parents and beaten black and blue until he was molded into the Hero that would save everyone.

Resigned to his role, Elias never allowed himself to feel any semblance of emotion. He only needs to fulfill the prophecy, after all. No one cares about who he is as a person, about him. They’ve put him outside to protect the borders of humanity by sacrificing his life. They’ve put a distance between him, parading him as a Hero while masking their selfish desires of having him take on the entire burden of bringing salvation to humankind. He is nothing more than a glorified sacrifice without the privilege of feeling emotions. 

But if that’s the case, why does his heart ache when he’s with you? Why does his stomach flutter? Why does a smile he had thought he lost in his youth come back when you’re around? Why does rage burn his fingers when you get hurt? Why do tears wet his cheeks when he holds your cold, lifeless body?

Please, please tell him that you’re just sleeping. Tell him that you’ll greet him when morning comes. Please, use your warm hands to brush his tears away. Tell him that it’ll all be okay.

Despite Elias’ ardent desires, the dead cannot comfort the living. 

“My child,” a voice from the Heavens calls, a beam of light surrounding Elias. “I thank you for your service.”

“Please,” Elias murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I cannot live without the Saint.”

The voice above is silent as it observes Elias, who cradles you in his arms like you’re his most important treasure. “I cannot change the hands of fate.”

“Then I will,” Elias responds. “Turn back time for me and I will find another way to seal the Demon Lord.”

“It does not exist. You will only put yourself through the same pain.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. As long as I can save the Saint.”

The voice from the Heavens is silent, before it says, “Very well. If that is your desire.”

And so, time is rewinded back to when Elias was a young boy. He once again goes to Church to receive baptism. He is once again shown to be the Hero. He is once again stripped from his parents and beaten black and blue, but this time, he does not cry. Instead, he looks forward so that he can find a way to save you.

But no matter Elias’ efforts, bad end after bad end follows his footsteps. No matter what he does, no matter what he changes, no matter what, bad ends are the only ends he meets with. A good ending where the world is saved and you are still alive just doesn’t exist. So, Elias has no choice, really. He’ll create his own bad end, except this time, the world will be sacrificed for you.

[l0stglitch]

Platonic yandere lost boys

Notes- I’ve had this idea for an au in my head for a while now after reading the lost boys daughter au by @bella-goths-wife. I don’t usually post so sorry if the quality isn’t the best (I’m also from the UK so I might get some slang mixed up 😭).

Warnings- Light yandere behaviour (Reader is unaware), Non violent kidnapping

• You moved to Santa Carla when you were young- around 6 or 7.

• After a fatal illness stole your father’s life- you, your mum and your two half siblings packed your bags and left for the coastal town.

• Unlike your siblings, you seemed to instantly fall in love with Santa Carla. Your little eyes wide as you took in the beauty of the vast beaches with their towering palm trees.

• To say you settled in quick would be an understatement.

• It was only a month or two after moving that you first met them.

• Your siblings, much to their dismay, had been tasked with watching over you for the night.

• The moment your mother had left you to do her ‘adult chores’ (no one had bothered to tell you what she was actually doing) the two of them were quick to do their own thing.

• Kelly, being 16, left to go and chat up a couple of guys with her friends.

• Sean stuck with you a little longer than his sister had, however upon seeing a group of kids from school, the 14 year old mumbled some half-hearted excuse and told you to stay by the carousel before promptly ditching you.

• So that left you, a defenceless child, all alone.

• You weren’t particularly bothered, after all, this wasn’t the first time they had left you by yourself.

• You found it interesting to watch all the different people go by.

• Santa Carla was a lot more diverse in terms of population compared to your previous home.

• There, you had lived a pretty sheltered life. Only exposed to a small slice of the world. Everyone there was like you. Or at least, like your family.

• Here though, everyone was different.

• You thought it was amazing.

• Dwayne noticed you first. An alarmingly young child sat by the carousel all by yourself. He didn’t usually take much notice of the people around him, but seeing you alone had awakened some long forgotten feeling from within.

• He wasn’t sure if that uncomfortable squirming in his stomach was some strange vampiric instinct Max had failed to tell them about, or if there was still some humanity left in his unbeating heart.

• Either way, it put him on edge.

• The others were quick to notice Dwayne’s change in demeanour. Particularly David- the self appointed leader of the pack.

• Every now and again the brunette’s gaze would drift over to the carousel, land on you, and then flitter around in search for someone who may be looking after you.

• Needless to say, he couldn’t find anyone.

• After around an hour David grew tired of his partner’s divided attention, and suggested they just ask you where your parents were.

• You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little intimidated by the four men who for some reason had decided to surround you.

• Dwayne crouched down, so that he was at your level, and regarded you thoughtfully. He didn’t smile, but his expression wasn’t exactly threatening either.

• He asked where your parents were, and upon finding out you had no idea, offered to stay with you until someone came looking for you.

• David left, refusing to be seen with a child, and dragged a conflicted Marco with him.

• Much to Dwayne’s surprise, Paul stayed, although it was obvious he was too high to understand what was actually going on.

• For the rest of the night, you stuck by Dwayne’s side as he guided you through the busy crowds of the boardwalk.

• Eventually the three of you stopped at a stall selling handmade jewellery.

• You couldn’t help but stare at one of the necklaces laid out on display.

• To your young brain, it was beautiful.

• The necklace was made of leather, with beads and feathers hanging from a knot at the end.

• Dwayne noticed the way you fixated on the jewellery.

• “Do you like the necklace?”

• You nodded, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy. You knew your mama hated jewellery like that. If she were here, she’d scoff and call it ‘tacky’.

• Dwayne didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his attention to the woman running the stall.

• He waited until she had turned away, before snatching the necklace and grabbing your hand.

• You had to jog to keep up with his giant steps.

• Once you were a fair distance from the woman, Dwayne bent to your level and carefully fixed the necklace round your neck.

• It was ridiculously long for you, but you didn’t care.

• “You shouldn’t steal.” You said, looking up at him with an innocent frown.

• Behind you, Paul cracked up laughing, making you flinch at the sudden loud noise. A large hand came down to rest on your little shoulder as Paul crouched next to you.

• He looked between you and Dwayne with a grin, “Hear that Dwayne? Little missy here’s telling you off.”

• Dwayne chuckled slightly at Paul’s comment, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground, as if trying to compose himself.

• When he finally met your eyes, he sent you a gentle smile.

• “Stealing’s only bad if you get caught. If nobody knows you did it then it doesn’t count.” You blinked, not entirely understanding his logic but trusting him nonetheless.

• “Yeah- no point in paying for shit when you can just steal it,” Paul chimed in, patting your head as he stood up.

• Dwayne sent his lover a stern look at his vulgar language but didn’t say anything.

• The three of you continued wandering around for some time after that. You weren’t sure how long it had been since your siblings had abandoned you, but it felt like hours. Your feet had become sore from walking so much, and you were struggling to keep up with Paul and Dwayne’s pace.

• Thankfully, you eventually ran into Sean, who seemed slightly disturbed by the two men you were accompanied by.

• You were surprised by his mistrust towards them: after-all, they had been very kind to you. A small smile graced your face as you remembered the necklace that hung limply from your neck.

• Well, you didn’t care what Sean thought of them. They were nice to you. Nicer than your real family.

• After that incident, you began noticing Dwayne and his other friends more whenever you visited the boardwalk at night.

• Sometimes you’d run away from Sean and Kelly, preferring the attention you got from Dwayne and Marko.

• You were introduced to Marko not long after meeting Dwayne and Paul.

• He had greeted you with a lot more energy than the other two, surprisingly happy to meet you.

• You liked Marko a lot. He always seemed excited to see you, and never grew tired of playing games like hide and seek.

• David, on the other hand, you weren’t so sure on.

• He never spoke directly to you, in fact, you weren’t sure he ever looked directly at you either.

• One night you had asked Dwayne why David didn’t like you. He simply gave you a sad smile and said, “He will one day, Y/n, just give him time.”

• Unbeknownst to you, David did like you.

• He liked the way you giggled at Paul’s jokes. The way you squealed with joy when you caught up to Marko in a game of tag. The way you stared up at Dwayne with absolute adoration every time he spoke.

• It pissed him off how much he liked having you around.

• After all, you weren’t their kid. You already had a family. A neglectful one at that- but a family all the same.

• You weren’t theirs.

• You should be, David thought, watching your face light up as Paul somehow managed to win you a giant bear at a carnival game. You fit in with the pack perfectly. He had never understood Max’s desire to start a family until you had shown up. Whilst at first David couldn’t stand the thought of being seen with such a young child, he now felt a strange, sick sort pride when people saw you with them.

• Unfortunately, he wasn’t the best at showing it.

• But for now, that didn’t matter. You had been living in Santa Carla for around 6 months, and most nights were spent with at least one of the boys.

• You never questioned why they were so eager to see you all the time, or why you only ever saw them when the sun was down and the moon was out.

• To your naive, 6 year old brain, those details were irrelevant.

• Your big sister Kelly, however, thought otherwise.

• She had brought up your strange company over dinner one evening. As per usual, your mother was out, so she had left her eldest daughter in charge food, which unsurprisingly meant that the three of you had ended up eating greasy pizza from a takeaway.

• “You need to stop running off with those creeps, Y/n,” she had told you sternly, taking a small bite out of the slice of pizza in her hand.

• Your gaze dropped down to your lap, and you anxiously began fiddling with your fingers. You hated being told off.

• “But they’re nice to me,” you looked back up and met her eyes timidly, “And they spend more time with me then you two,” you added, looking over at Sean, who kept his eyes firmly fixed on the food in front of him.

• Kelly scoffed at that. “I don’t care how much you like them. You’re 6! Mum’s gonna kill us if she finds out me and Sean left you by yourself!”

• You flinched at her harsh tone, tears beginning to gather in your eyes.

• Sean finally looked up from his food, immediately noticing your distress.

• Your head was bowed, so he couldn’t properly see your face, but a fat droplet falling onto your plate told him all he needed to know.

• “We just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said gently, leaning in slightly.

• Unfortunately, his words seemed to provide no comfort whatsoever, as you jumped down from you chair and ran out of the room.

• Sean scowled at Kelly.

• “That went well.” He snapped, shoving another slice of pizza into his mouth.

• She glared back at him, “I’m trying to make sure our sister doesn’t get kidnapped.”

• “…Half-sister.” Sean mumbled through the food in his mouth.

• “Yeah.. well she’s still our responsibility- mum’s too busy to help.” Kelly replied, unaware that you were hidden behind the door, listening in.

• You had no idea what a ‘half sister’ was, so hearing Sean’s comment made your throat tighten uncomfortably as you fought another fresh wave of tears. You didn’t understand why you were only ‘half’ a sister. Were you not good enough for him?

• Sean had always been nicer to you than Kelly, but suddenly you weren’t so sure either of them liked you that much.

• Not wanting to hear any more of their conversation, you ran upstairs to your room and buried yourself under the covers.

• You fell asleep quickly. Crying always seemed to make you tired.

• It wasn’t until at least a week later that you were able to see the boys again.

• Your siblings had made sure to keep you in sight every time you went to the boardwalk.

• Fortunately for you, there was a concert one night.

• The crowds made it easy for you to slip out of Sean’s hand and run away as far as possible.

• You weren’t even looking for Dwayne and his friends, really. You just wanted to get away from Sean and Kelly- their conversation about you still fresh in your mind.

• Despite this, you ended up running into David.

• He was leant up against some metal railing, a lit cigarette hanging leisurely from between his lips as he listened to whatever the woman beside him was talking about.

• You weren’t sure what to do. None of the others were around, and you didn’t want to be walking around the boardwalk alone, but you still weren’t entirely sure David actually liked you. Sure- he had never been outright rude to you, but there was something about the way you’d catch him staring at you that creeped you out.

• After significant hesitation, you walked over, your stomach twisting into knots as you caught his eye.

• He seemed slightly surprised to see you, but not necessarily unwelcoming.

• The blonde woman beside him took a step closer to you before squatting down and holding your hands in hers.

• “Are you lost sweetie?” She questioned, her head tilted slightly and her lips curving up into a gentle smile.

• Your eyes jumped from hers to David’s, unsure of what to say.

• He came closer and rested a hand on your small shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. You blinked. This was new.

• “Alyssa, this is my daughter- Y/n.”

• You kept your expression neutral, but internally you were just as shocked as this ‘Alyssa’ woman was.

• “Oh! I didnt realise you..” She started, before trailing off, processing the new information.

• “Well, it’s not something I usually tell people right off the bat,” David replied, completely unfazed by the whole interaction.

• He glanced down at you, almost theatrically, before looking back up and meeting the blonde girl’s eye. “Her mum’s a total druggie, so it’s just us two now,” he continued, lowering his voice slightly with a crestfallen expression.

• Alyssa rubbed your knuckles pityingly before standing back up to her full height and looking at David. “I’m sorry- that’s terrible. Y/n is lucky to have you as a father.”

• David just smiled at that, before glancing down at you, “Y/n, Marko and Paul are hanging around the video store- why don’t you go and say hi. They’ve missed you.”

• You nodded eagerly, offering up a quick goodbye to the pair before running over to the video store, almost tripping over your own feet in your haste.

• You weren’t sure why David had introduced you as his daughter to that nice lady, but you weren’t completely opposed to the idea. David might be scary, you thought, but he would certainly make a pretty cool dad, with his spiky blonde hair and long black trench-coat.

• By the time you had reached the entrance to the store, you were completely out of breath, breathing in short, excited gasps as you walked in.

• For a moment, you were distracted by all the screens. You had never seen so many TV’s in one place, it was hard to know which one to look at.

• Suddenly, a hand came down to rest on your back, jolting you out of your thoughts.

• Turning around, you were surprised to find a man who seemed to be in his 40s or 50s (you weren’t particularly good with ages) smiling down at you.

• He wore a pair of pale rimmed glasses and his brown hair was nearly combed into a side part. The complete opposite of who you were looking for.

• Max knew exactly who you were. He had overheard the boys talking about you numerous times when they thought he was out of earshot, and additionally, he could feel it through their shared vampiric bond.

• He could feel their possessiveness every time you were with your biological family. That burning desire to protect.

• Max wasn’t at all surprised. Despite his boys’ apparent ignorance to the reason behind their strange situation, he knew exactly what was going on.

• You had unknowingly wormed your way into their pack, and they had become obsessed. Unintentionally of course, Max mused. David in particular wasn’t exactly the nurturing type. Despite that, there was little anyone could do to combat their instincts to protect the youngest member of the pack, especially with how vulnerable you were.

• “Hey kiddo, you in need of any help?”

• You blinked up at him, momentarily forgetting why you had ran into his store in the first place.

• “I um- I’m looking for my…” You trailed off, unsure of how to describe your relationship with Marko and Paul to the man.

• “Your parents?” He offered up gently, his eyebrows quirking a little.

• You shrugged timidly. Were they your parents? You weren’t sure at this point. You already had a mum, but she wasn’t around much anymore. What about your dad? You realised you couldn’t remember a whole lot about him.

• Dwayne and his friends seemed to have taken his place. Although you were starting to wonder whether they actually were his friends, or perhaps something else.

• They held hands a lot- particularly Marko and Paul. And when no one was around, sometimes you’d catch them exchanging tender kisses. It reminded you of how your mama and dad used to kiss. She’d often tell you how in love she was with your father. Maybe Dwayne was in love with David, Marko and Paul?

• The two latter individuals strode into view, as if summoned by Max’s question.

• Marko greeted you with an excited grin, “Hi pumpkin! Where’ve you been hiding all this time?” He questioned playfully, picking you up and spinning you around.

• You laughed, happy to see them. “I wasn’t hiding silly!”

• Paul gently hit Marko’s arm, “Stop hogging her man!” He huffed, prying you from his lover’s grasp.

• You wrapped your arms around Paul’s neck, causing him to chuckle slightly.

• “I’ve missed you baby. Where’ve you been?”

• Max, who was stood slightly off to the side now, didn’t fail to notice how keenly they wanted to know your whereabouts.

• For the past week or so, all he had felt through the pack bond was a painful longing for you. It was very sweet, but unfortunately quite distracting for a man who was trying to run a store.

• You smiled sadly at Paul, “Sean and Kelly didn’t want me seeing you guys anymore- they said you were creepy…” You trailed off, noticing how Paul’s expression had grown considerably darker.

• “Did they now?” You looked over at Marko, who had just spoken. He was staring at you intently, almost as if you were the one who had said those things.

• You looked down at the floor and nodded, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

• “You don’t agree with them do you?” Paul asked softly. You weren’t sure you had ever heard him sound so… dejected?

• You quickly shook your head in response, desperate to try and cheer them both up. It made you uneasy seeing Paul sad and Marko angry- they were both usually so cheerful around you.

• “Well, as long as you know that they’re wrong about us,” Marko said with a shrug, his lips forming a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not that you noticed, only being a young child.

• “I know!” You assured him, smiling back.

• Paul and Marko shared a look, both of them feeling slightly threatened by the apparent worry of your siblings.

• Max cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “Perhaps it’s time you took her back with you.” It came out as more of an order rather than a request, but that wasn’t what bothered Paul and Marko.

• They were more confused about how their head vampire somehow knew exactly what was going on with you and what their plans were.

• “You uh- you know about..?” Paul gestured down to you, frowning at Max, who merely chuckled at the younger vampire’s confusion.

• “Trust me. I know what it’s like to crave a family, that’s only natural for… people like us,” he explained, amused by the bewildered looks that adorned both their faces.

• Max looked down at you briefly, making sure you weren’t paying attention to their conversation before adding, “Might I suggest you get her-” he paused, searching for the right phrase, “-settled in as quickly as possible. The sooner you remove her from that neglectful mother and her spawn, the sooner she’ll forget about them.”

• The harsh choice of words caught them off guard, but neither said anything.

• Marko couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face, “That shouldn’t be a problem Max,” he replied, resting his hands on your shoulders and crouching slightly so he was eye to eye with you.

• You weren’t sure what had caused his mood to change so erratically, but you weren’t in a hurry to complain.

• “Me and Pauly wanna show you a very special place, but you have to be a good girl for us.”

• Behind him, Paul scoffed quietly at the nickname.

• “I’ll be good!”

• “You promise?” He asked seriously, holding out a pinky finger.

• “I promise.” You answered solemnly, linking your finger with his.

• He nodded, satisfied with your answer before standing to his full height and glancing back at Max, “We’ll see you around then I guess.”

• Max hummed in reply, and watched as the two of them led you out, Paul holding your small hand in his.

• You excitedly squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. “We gotta go find Dwayne and David now, Y/n,” he told you, carefully scanning the surrounding area.

• “I already saw David earlier!” You replied gleefully, trying to tug Paul over to where you had seen him before.

• Marko stopped you before you could lead them over. “David told us to meet back at the bikes,” he countered, mainly speaking to Paul rather than you.

• Paul nodded in agreement, “Yeah I remember now. We should probably head over there then.”

• You felt slightly dejected by the way they had both completely ignored your help, but that feeling melted away as the bikes came into view and you saw David and Dwayne hovering nearby, clearly deep in conversation.

• “Hey! David! Dwayne! Look who we just ran into!” Paul called over, grabbing both men’s attention.

• Dwayne snapped around the moment he heard his lover’s voice, his eyes immediately landing on you.

• “Dwayne!” You cried gleefully, slipping out of Paul’s grip and running over to hug the long haired brunette.

• He embraced you tightly, as if worried you were going to disappear at any moment.

• You were surprised by how firm the hug was, but thought little of it. You were back with your favourite person, and that was all that mattered.

• “I’ve missed you princess.” You smiled, happy to hear his deep voice again after a week of being stuck with your siblings.

• “Me too!” You replied, pulling back so you could look Dwayne in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to hug you more, but refrained from doing so- not wanting you to feel smothered.

• “Marko says that you’re all going to show me somewhere special!” You informed him matter of factly, unable to contain the excitement that was leaking into your words.

• Dwayne’s brows shot up in surprise. He knew exactly where this “somewhere special” was, but he was caught off guard by the suddenness of it all, and the fact that Marko of all people was the one to call the shots.

• His gaze flickered over to said person, shooting him a questioning look.

• David seemed equally confused, almost choking on his cigarette smoke. “Tonight? You knew we were going to wait longer.” His tone sounded slightly more threatening than intended, but he didn’t care. David hated feeling undermined- even if it was from one of the men he loved.

• Marko’s head cocked to the side as he casually met David’s irritated gaze, completely unfazed. “Change of plan I guess. It was Max’s idea, not mine.” He paused momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly, “And those other two kids are starting to become a problem.”

• Had you been a little older, you might’ve realised that the ‘other two kids’ they spoke about were your half siblings, but instead you remained completely oblivious. Unaware of the tension hanging in the air.

• “You told Max?”

• “He already knew,” Paul answered with an unbothered shrug, failing to understand Dwayne and David’s concerns.

• David nodded slowly, not entirely surprised that Max had caught on. “So… we’ll take the kid back to the cave and then sort out our little problem.”

• “The kid? She has a name David,” Dwayne muttered, shooting him a pointed look.

• “Fine. We’ll take Y/n back to the cave.” He hesitated before continuing, “I’m assuming you’ll want her to ride with you?”

• “Well, I was the one who found her first. And Paul and Marko aren’t exactly the safest drivers.” Dwayne shot back defensively.

• “What the fuck man? We’re great drivers!” Paul retorted, nudging Marko, who stumbled slightly at the action.

• The shorter man steadied himself on Paul’s shoulder before nodding passionately in agreement. “Yeah- some might say we’re the best in Santa Carla!”

• David scoffed, “That’s debatable.”

• You were still stood at Dwayne’s side, waiting patiently for the four of them to finish their grown-up conversation.

• You hadn’t been listening very closely, but it seemed like they had finally come to an agreement on something.

• Dwayne squeezed your shoulder, grabbing your attention. “You’re gonna ride with me now Y/n, so you gotta hold on real tight.”

• You felt an uncomfortable twisting sensation in your stomach at his warning. It was probably just the nervousness that came with riding a motorcycle for the first time, but something about the situation felt off.

• “I can’t. Mama doesn’t like motorcycles- she says they’re dangerous.”

• He sighed, “Look sweetheart, I know you think your mum knows best, and that she’s some amazing parent who would do anything for you, but the reality is she’s not.”

• You frowned. Dwayne’s words hurt a lot more than he had intended them too.

• “But she loves me..” You protested timidly, confused by the pitying look he was giving you.

• “Then why isn’t she here looking after you?”

• The question caught you off guard. He had a point. Where was your mum? You hadn’t seen her since yesterday, and even then she hadn’t even spoken directly to you.

• Dwayne took your silence as an answer, cupping your cheeks in his hands and making sure your full attention was on him.

• “She doesn’t matter anymore Y/n. We’re your family now, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

• “You promise?”

• “I swear Y/n, I won’t ever let anyone or anything hurt you. You’re safe with us- ok?”

• You nodded silently, finding comfort in his words.

• Dwayne smiled reassuringly before picking you up by the waist and placing you onto the back of his motorcycle.

• You watched as the four of them all mounted their rides, before revving their engines and racing down the path.

• It wasn’t a particularly long trip- especially with how fast the boys rode. The whole journey you clung to Dwayne’s waist like your life depended on it, eyes tightly shut and head curled into his back.

• Eventually the five of you stopped near the edge of a cliff. Dwayne twisted round and set you on the ground before dismounting and checking to see if you were ok.

• You nodded wearily, unable to fight the way your eyelids kept fluttering shut.

• “She won’t be able to make it down those steps if she’s practically falling asleep,” David said taking a step closer, “I’ll have to carry her.”

• Dwayne’s head shot up. “I can take her.”

• “You’ve had Y/n for the whole ride- I’m sure you’ll survive the short walk to the cave without her,” David remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

• Dwayne glared at the blonde but stepped back to allow him to pick you up.

• You didn’t resist when David lifted you up, it was a relief to not have to worry about standing up, or keeping your eyes open. Your small arms wrapped around his neck and your head came down to rest on his shoulder.

• You were asleep before he even started walking.

• The walk down to the cave entrance was spent in complete silence. They spoke to each other telepathically through the pack bond, discussing what they were going to do about your previous family and how they were going to get you settled into the pack.

• It wasn’t until they reached the cave entrance that anyone spoke.

• “So she’s sleeping in the room we prepared?” Paul asked from behind David.

• “Yeah that’s right.”

• You stirred at the sound of a voice, lazily lifting your head slightly to look at Paul and Marko behind you.

• They were oblivious to your sleepy gaze watching them from David’s shoulder as he carried you through the dimly lit cave.

• Not before long they eventually reached the ‘room’ that had been prepared for you.

• Being in a collapsed hotel, it was an unusual shape, with a ceiling that slanted down towards the far end before abruptly being cut off by the jagged roof of the cave. It wasn’t completely ready yet, so the only furniture was a queen sized bed and an unusually large bean bag in the corner.

• David carefully settled you down onto the bed, and you blinked up at him.

• “This is your room now baby. We’ll decorate it how you like later on, but right now you’ve got everything you need.” Dwayne said softly, crouching down to the side of the bed.

• “Where’s your bed?” You asked through a yawn.

• He smiled, “Not too far.”

• Paul took a step closer. “We’ll be down the hallway, Y/n.”

• Your eyes flickered back over to Dwayne, “Why can’t you just stay here? I don’t like the dark.”

• He gently brushed some of your hair out of your face, “We can stay if you want.”

• You nodded with a smile, and shuffled further into the middle to let him climb in next to you. Dwayne wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer protectively.

• The bed dipped to your left, and you turned over to see who it was.

• You were surprised to see that it was David rather than Marko or Paul, but you didn’t say anything. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open, especially with the inviting darkness of your new room. As you were drifting off to sleep, you felt a hand gently rubbing your arm, and the soft murmur of David’s voice.

• “She’s finally ours now.”

Final notes- I do plan on writing more for this au. This was more of an introduction/explanation of how reader ended up being a part of the pack, and it wasn’t originally supposed to be written as an actual fic but I kind of got carried away.

I have some vague ideas for where I wanna take this but nothing is really set in stone at the moment. One thing I do know however is that it will definitely get darker as the reader gets older (sorry if you were hoping for smth fluffy). Updates might be slow so I apologise in advance 🙏

[cathnospam]

Continuing from This Drabble about you and your BF Katsuki answering sex questions about each other<3

Black Female Reader x Katsuki Bakugo , mentions of panty stealer bakugo, slight smut???

“Okay uh, how do you rate your partners kisses 1-10.”

“9”

“9?! Muthafucka I taught you how to kiss—-“

“You always push back first like you can’t handle it, it pisses me off.”

“I like breathing.”

“So.”

Rolling your eyes, “I was ganna say 12/10, but since you’re being a bitch—“

“So, 12/10 got it. Next.”

“Does your partner have any dirty secrets?…oooh.—-”

“M’going to bed.” Bakugo immediately gets up to take off his tank top seeing as he was going to sleep in your dorm tonight, but as the shirt clung to his semi flexing biceps you grab him, “No, y/n.”

“Oh c’mon boy are the secrets THAT bad?! I’ll tell you mine at least—-fuck.” He considers for a moment. Curiosity weighing heavier than his will to sleep at the moment, “You ass.”

“What did you call me—“

“I think…” You place two fingers on his soft lips, “One secret is that……….one time, when you were out on work study you left your black tank top in my room….and….i missed you….and i was ovulating so i….put on your tank top and ….played…with myself.”

The air was thick, it’s as if Bakugo took it as he grew closer to you while speaking, there wasn’t much to make him speechless but dammit that’s a new one.

Fuck. That’s actually more sexier than he wants to admit right now. He crossed his legs, hoping a tent won’t form in his grey sweats and noticed your eyes wandering at every part of your room but his eyes.

“I…moaned your name too.”

“You…you damn….pervert fuck—-“ His voice almost broke into a groan, looking away also embarrassed you knew he didn’t mean it in a malicious way from how he looked back at you, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, “Stop acting fucking weird. You did it. Who cares. As long as it was MY name you moaned.”

“Of course dumbass. I only want you…”

Bakugo felt his ears burning, already annoyed he was flustered once he groaned, “I took your panties once.”

“What?”

“Why the hell would you wear that lacy frilly shit during class in that short ass skirt? It’s like you want those idiots to see you.”

“That CANNOT be the reason—“

“IT IS. If you’re ganna wear ‘em wear them IN OUR dorms you dumbass.”

“…well.”

“Well what.” He pouts.”

“Well where the fuck are they I like wearing them after I get waxed.”

Bakugo hesitates, not wanting to actually answer mainly because he doesn’t just have ONE pair of panties. But a few. “I’ll show you later.”

“Tch.” You mock his sounds, “Ever use ‘em to masturbate?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggle, you can only imagine what his perverted ass has done with them. And the last time you seen them was in your hamper so you assumed they got lost somewhere in the laundry. Honestly it’s kinda….interesting he’s telling you this.

“Does your partner have any no’s during?”

“I’m not calling you a bitch.”

“Aw.” You sarcastically sigh, “Why.”

“Why the hell would I call you out your name—“

“You called me your slut yesterday.”

“…Slip of the tongue.” He crosses his arms like a child, making you giggle. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize it was hot.” You say adjusting yourself closer to him, you could actually feel the heat from his body rise as you kept speaking, “It’s fine. Degrading isn’t something I’d need from you anyway.”

“I don’t get that kink, who the hell likes to be disrespected by someone they…are y’know with.”

You shrug, you understand why certain people have kinks, but it’s hard to put in words for someone like Katsuki. He’s a very simple man when it comes to relationships. Almost traditional and old fashion which is what charmed you the most about him. He never even called you a bitch before in any sense nor has he ever told you anything that would genuinely hurt your feelings, “Some people are just into that.” You concluded, your boyfriend looks at you with an unresolved look, but accepts it anyway. Weirdos.

“I wouldn’t hit you either. Like in the face or anything. Only on the ass”

“Good because my face is too pretty for that.” Katsuki smirks at you, you’re absolutely right you’re too pretty for him to hit.

“Nobody else.”

“Hm?”

“…Nobody else is allowed to join us.”

Squinting for a moment his statement clicks , “OH! No threesomes and stuff. Oh yeah of course not. If I see you with any other girl I’ll kill you and her.”

Katsuki swallowed his laughter, masking it with a clearing of his throat, your eyes not tearing from his making sure he knew you were serious. You don’t scare him typically, but he knew the moments when you genuinely had an aura about you that screamed “Fucking try to play with me.” And this was one of those moments. “You look at me like I didn’t just fucking say —“

“I know.” Your voice cracked a little trying to cover up the jealous tone you were about to spew out. Just the thought of Katsuki touching another girl had you upset.

Little did you know it was the same for him with you.

“Anything else?”

“I won’t do race or age play.”

“What the hell…?—-“

“Well I am black so obviously no and then you have age play which is just a cute way of saying you like children—-“

“WHAT?”

You pause to cover up his loud mouth with your small hands, “SSSHH! Before we get in trouble again!…anyway moving on!”

Not wanting to argue, he takes your laptop and smacks your hand away, “What is something you DONT like that your partner does during sex.”

“Take my laptop away from me.”

He strikes you and look, he doesn’t say anything verbally but he says “quit fucking around” with his eyes, admitting defeat that he won’t give you back your laptop you sit back and think for a moment.

“Eh…Oh! I don’t like that you won’t let me ride you.”

Damn it.

He had a feeling you’d say that too. Bakugo scratches the back of his neck roughly while letting out a groan. Throwing his head back a little he side eyes you, “Why do you wanna be on top so bad. I’m the man I should—“

“It’s not even about dominating you or anything you can still fuck me from below, ‘Suki. You’ll still have all the power.”

Bakugo has seen porn videos where the guy fucks up into the girl. Even some where the man is straight up holding the girl up and pumps her full. It’s so erotic he couldn’t even finish the video, but even though he enjoys vanilla sex, he is quite certain riding him isn’t too far off from what he likes.

Besides he loves having your tits bounce in his face and feeling your nipples practically bounce into his mouth makes up of great reason.

“…Fine. But when I’M ready.”

“Yaaaayy mkay….now what is something YOU don’t like about me.”

“You’re ganna be pissed.”

Your smiles immediately transforms into a straighten line, “Uh oh.”

“I don’t …like when you cum too fast.”

It was a bit embarrassing yet confusing to hear. Clearly that means he’s doing a good job so why —

“Because I want to keep fucking you.” Bakugo speaks up as if he read your inner thoughts, all you could do was blink a few times at him, and he continued more, “Even though I don’t cum until after you do which isn’t that long, sometimes I wanna keep going. I’ve timed it, the moment I start fucking you sex only last about 6-8 minutes.”

“That’s average. Some people are 2-3 minutes.” You spoke with an unimpressed and deadpanned voice mostly because this sounded ludicrous to you and Bakugo seen it in your expression causing him to sigh in annoyance. “Shouldn’t your ego be filled knowing you make me cum fast?”

“Yeah, but —-fuck sue me for wanting more. And don’t say some shit like I’m a nympho or some shit because that’s fucking disgusting and those freaks are usually only in a relationship to fuck—-“

“OKAY OKAY CALM DOWN, BOY!” His voice kept getting louder and louder and you refused to have another write up because you have him in your dorm past curfew…again. “I get it though.”

“You want to be overstimulated.”

What? Bakugo scrunched yo his eyebrows. He never heard that term before used when talking about sex.

“Overstimulated means …well… showing you is actually better than telling you.”

In an instant Bakugo’s furrowed eyebrows soften, his gaze transitioned from confused to darker and subtly lustful. You felt the vibe of the room change so quickly you practically had to clear your throat to make him focus again.

“So the next question…”

“Nah, show me.” He firmly shuts your computer and places it on your nightstand. Arms still crossed, “Show me what that word means or should I look up a video and figure it out myself.”

“….y’can.”

It wasn’t ideal for your evening to end like this with him, but it’s just you and your slightly horny boyfriend watching porn videos.

What’s the worse that can happen?

[bella-goths-wife]

“This is probably a bad idea, but so worth it”

Dimitri x lost boys daughter

Warnings: sexual tension, porn with barely any plot, smut, cunnilingus, blood play, biting in a vampire way, slight pain kink, clit biting (barely and gently), possessiveness, humiliation, mentions of daddy issues, mocking use of the title ‘daddy’, sex on a bar, semi public sex, probs cringe but we move on

For many nights now, you and Dimitri had found yourselves working late together at the bar. Though in vampire terms working late just means working through the night and until midday, where the rest of dimitri’s clan had gone to their homes and hidden away before the sun could reveal itself and damage their sensitive skin.

At first, working late was just a ploy to get overtime since yours and Michaels rent had doubled and his and your job was barely covering it.

But now, now working late wasn’t a ploy but a distraction.

Something about the way Dimitri handled you, it was both foreign and familiar all at once. It had hints and notes of your past relationships but with a new sense of adventure and freedom to it.

With faith, you were protective of her as you battled with your fathers and society in defence of her and the love the two of you shared.

With James, you were the protected as he kept you safe from the outside and from yourself. He’d shield your eyes from the unpleasantness of your life and would offer distractions to you in order to avoid your self destructive tendencies.

With Dimitri, you feel almost like equals.

Logistically you understand that it’s impossible for you to be equals, he was a centuries old vampire who could crush you within moments and you were just a human girl, a smart human, but still a human.

But he never particularly used his vast power to show his superiority like your fathers had, despite the first two times he used his power being to harm you, he now went out of his way to almost humanise his mannerisms as if to show his lack of intent to harm you.

He never spoke down to you, never made you feel stupid despite your age differences and your lack of knowledge on the world outside of Santa Carla.

But while you appreciated the equality of the dynamic, a part of you wanted to tip the scales in his favour. Wanted him to talk to you low tones in an almost condescending manner while you look up at him with big eyes filled with admiration and wanting. You wanted to be treated like his plaything if only for a moment.

The late shifts also made you look at him more carefully. You always knew him to be conventionally attractive, but had you paid closer attention to him you would have come to appreciate his dark eyes and his butterfly inducing smirk much sooner.

The same smirk he gives you in this very moment as he drys his freshly cleaned glasses and you lean against the bar and watch him.

“What does blood taste like?” Was the question that you had asked that had induced said smirk, curiosity and boredom had taken over your mind at this point and you felt adventurous enough to ask

“Why?” He had asked in return with his stupidly attractive smirk “thinking of switching to the supernatural side?”

“No” you reply with a scoff “just curious, vampires don’t just kill for sustenance so there must be something other than hunger that drives their choices to eat from certain people”

“You have a point there, though it could just be explained away with some vampires being sadistic” dimitri says calmly “but you are partially right, the taste of blood does depend on the person”

“How?” You ask curiously with a cocked brow

“Different flavourings, different scents, different blood types, they’re all different” he explains as he continues to clean his glasses “some are sweeter, some are bitter, some are more salty, every person different”

“So you can know how someone’s blood tastes from their scent?” You ask curiously

“Not particularly, there are outside sources that can impact your scent” Dimitri says with a shrug “yours is sweet, but there’s a bitterness to the edge of it because of the cigarettes you smoke”

“You’ve smelled me?” You say with a slight shock inflicted tone

“Kinda hard not to when I’m always next to you” Dimitri answers playfully with a smirk “your permanently stuck in my senses”

“What do I smell like?” You ask curiously wit an almost eager expression

“Like warm vanilla and caramel but with an edge of bitterness from the smoking” he answers calmly, finally stopping his task at hand to pay attention to you and your curious mind

“So my blood would taste like that?” You assume with a guessing expression

“Well I’d have to taste your blood to know that, little bird” he points out with a teasing smile

“Okay” you say without hesitation

There is a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other and you process the decision you had just made.

You look away in slight humiliation as he fails to respond, turning your head to look at the door instead

“Sorry, that was stupid” you say quietly

“No, it wasn’t” Dimitri responds quickly as his fingertips gently redirect your gaze back on to him “I just dont think you know what your offering”

“I know what I’m offering Dimitri” you say with new found determination “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“It will hurt” dimitri says apprehensively “I could make you uncomfortable, or scared”

“I trust you, Dimitri” you declare with a gentle tone you hadn’t used in a while as you put your hand on his cheek “I know what I’m offering”

“Okay, little bird” he says with a nod as he places his hand over yours and pulls you closer so that he can place a kiss to your pulse point “if your sure”

You nod and he kisses your wrist once more before his teeth expanded and began to bite into your wrist.

You let out a small gasp of pain which had his eyes widening and hesitation to spreading across his face, but you reassured him by running a hand through his long black hair.

It was a new sensation, to be drained. You expected it to feel like agony and while there was a considerable amount of pain as you felt blood leaving your body, there was also a small amount of arousal that came with the experience.

The combination of pain, intimacy and eye contact from Dimitri’s delicately dark eyes had your panties becoming wetter with every moment, an affect that surely Dimitri could smell by the moan he lets out against your bleeding wrist.

He pulls away after a few moments, still holding your wrist as his long tongue licks up any blood drops from the puncture wounds.

“So” you say almost breathlessly “how do I taste?”

Dimitri hums against your wrist with a smirk as he begins to press his lips against your arm in a forward motion

“You taste….” He says in a low tone as he leave a trail of your blood through his kisses on your arm as he reaches your neck and whispers in your ear “exquisite”

“Really?” You ask quietly as your eyes close and you enjoy the feeling of his lips on your neck

“Like warm vanilla and caramel” he speaks lowly as he bites your neck gently, fangs not penetrating your skin this time “like a fine delicacy waiting to be devoured”

He finally reaches your jaw with his kisses before pulling away and looking down at you once again, almost like he was scanning for your reaction.

You don’t let him contemplate asking you if you were okay as you reach up and pull his head down to smash your lips against his.

He follows in suite as he kisses you back with the same amount of ferocity. Your teeth and tongues clashing messily in this dance of passion.

He took it a step further as he pulls you closer and holds the back of your thighs in almost an attempt to ask permission.

You don’t break the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him to hoist you up by the back of your thighs and place you on the bar with no effort, his supernatural strength being used as a tool to only arouse you further.

He slots himself between your legs while keeping his hands on your upper thighs, still kissing you passionately as your hands pull him closer by his shoulders.

After a few more moments of kissing you, he pulls away slightly and leans his forehead against yours and watches you pant.

“I want to taste more of you” he says lowly as he nuzzles nose against yours “is that okay, little bird”

You nod your head but your only granted tutting in return

“Words, little bird” he reprimands gently “tell me what you want”

“I want you to touch me” you say quietly with a yearning tone

He nods as his hands reach under your skirt and begin to pull your soaked panties off. You lift yourself slightly to help him as you watch him remove your panties and slip them into his trouser pocket.

You’re about to protest but it dies down in your throat as you feel him flip up your skirt and begin to kiss up your thighs. Going from your knee to your inner thigh and only sparing a small kiss to just above your clit that had you squirming before repeating the same process with your other leg.

“Please” you say with a quiet desperation which has his eyes shooting up to look at you “please”

“What would your fathers say if they saw you now?” He asked with a teasing tone as he let his fangs graze your inner thigh “seeing that they failed you so much that you’re begging a dangerous man centuries older than you to touch you?”

“I don’t care what they think” you say quietly with blush coating your face “please, just touch me”

“Maybe I should have you call me daddy instead” dimitri says teasingly with a wide smirk

You roll your eyes and you’re about to snark him back when he leans down and spreads your thighs wider before kitten licking your clit gently. All arguments fade from your mind as your hips buck to meet that pleasure again, eliciting a small chuckle from Dimitri.

He swirls his tongue around your clit tantalisingly in small circles that had you panting.

He continues to break you down slowly for a few moments before extending his tongue and giving your pussy a deep stroke of his tongue from your twitching hole to your swollen bud that he takes into his mouth and sucks harshly.

The movement has you crying out and your hand tangling itself in his hair as you guide his head gently, griping his long black hair into a makeshift ponytail in your palm.

As your moans grow louder, your gaze is locked on the still unlocked door of the bar. Anyone could walk in on you, anyone could see you in the scandalous position of being pleasured so desperately by the man whose head takes up residency between your thighs.

As of sensing your lack of attention, Dimitri doubles down on his efforts by removing one of his hands from your waist before playing with your clit in a hypnotising manner as his tongue reaches deep inside you and presses against your sensitive walls.

“Fuck” you cry out with tears blurring your vision and your grip in his hair tightening “please don’t stop”

“Every part of you tasted exquisite” he speaks into you as he nibbles on your pearl gently, letting his fangs graze the swollen bud teasingly “like the forbidden fruit of the gardens of Eden”

Your thighs squeeze against his head as you feel the familiar coil in your stomach tightening, letting out desperate cries as you feel your peak approaching

“Give it to me, little bird” dimitri demands in a low tone as he thumbs at your pearl and his tongue enters you once again “give me what’s mine, show me your mine”

You feel your release soak his face as your jaw goes slack and you pant and cry, thighs squeezing his head so tight that you would wager a guess that without his supernatural strength he would have been in pain by now.

You’re seeing stars by the time he comes back up to your level and kisses you gently, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“This is probably a bad idea” you point out the obvious breathlessly as your thumb brushes against his lips to wipe away your essence

“But it’s so worth it” he whispers back as he takes your hand and licks your essence off your thumb with a low groan

This is going to piss a lot of people off, is your last thought as Dimitri carries you up to his room above the bar and prepares you for a night of stupid but pleasurable decisions.

[bluesidez]

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane. 

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway. 

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up. 

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself. 

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head. 

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying. 

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door. 

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband. 

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display. 

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button. 

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming. 

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island. 

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips. 

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response. 

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest. 

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined. 

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips. 

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting. 

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment. 

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you. 

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading. 

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back. 

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection. 

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you. 

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it. 

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama. 

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom. 

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early. 

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door. 

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself. 

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did. 

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues. 

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek. 

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.” 

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time. 

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven. 

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet. 

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly. 

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.  

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10. 

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit. 

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure. 

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone. 

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away. 

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.  

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner. 

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight. 

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths. 

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms. 

You couldn’t ask for anything better. 

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think. 

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it. 

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good. 

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much. 

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped. 

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn. 

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you. 

You’re starting to think the worst. 

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working. 

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time. 

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with. 

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had. 

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house. 

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom. 

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.  

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand. 

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat. 

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry. 

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp. 

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back. 

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.” 

So much for communication. 

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides. 

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout. 

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight. 

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length. 

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers. 

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep. 

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length. 

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face. 

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better. 

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him. 

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls. 

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically. 

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time. 

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it. 

It was all too much. 

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message. 

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper. 

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you. 

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[majinbangus]

was tempted to write more of this idea of simon x single mom!reader. ty to @weemansoap for the meet cute idea. mention of past abuse/domestic violence in one paragraph, nothing graphic.

-> more here

There's a young lad that can't be more than five or six years of age crouched behind the overgrown bush near the entryway that leads to his flat complex. A strange sight to come home to after months away on deployment. One he's not sure what to make of yet, but Simon approaches, coming up on the kid's blindspot. He doesn't see any parents around. Best find out what this kid is up to.

"Oi, what're you doin' out 'ere, lad?"

The kid startles comedically, nearly falling on his rump, but he manages to catch himself before looking up at Simon, a toothy, mischievous grin on his face. "I'm gonna scare Mama!"

Simon raises an eyebrow. "Your mum doesn't know you're here?"

"No." The boy giggles. "I ran ahead while she was putting on her shoes."

"You shouldn't do that," Simon says, though not quite admonishing him. "You probably scared your mum enough pulling that stunt."

The lad frowns. "I only ran away. What's so scary about that?"

A lot of things. Simon remembers his own mother frantically calling out his name once upon a time. The fear in her eyes. The trembling grip when she finally found him again. The sobbing. The apologies. The promises to be a better mother. The pain she experienced when his father blamed her for losing track of a son he didn't care about. Pain that was Simon's fault. Pain that his father later inflicted on him.

Lots of things are scary when a child runs away. But this lad doesn't need to know the extent.

"Your mum loves you, yeah?" He waits until the kid nods, continuing, "Then it'll always scare her when you runaway. Not knowing where you are. Thinking she lost you. Would it scare you if you lost her?"

"Oh..." The kid looks at the ground, penitent. "I didn't think of it that way."

Simon grunts, studying the lad, debating with himself before deciding fuck it. He clicks his tongue twice and the lad looks up. "Which floor you live on, mate? I'll bring you back to your mum."

"3C."

Simon hums thoughtfully. That one was previously vacant last time he was here. "Right next to me."

The lad perks up. "Really?"

He nods, gesturing towards the building, ready to guide the kid back home, but a voice suddenly rings out like a shock of ice water running down his back.

"Simon, you stay right there, young man!"

For a brief- very brief- second, Simon tenses up. He hasn't heard that angry motherly tone stemmed from fear directed at him since he was a boy. Part of him feels reprimanded, as if he needs to bow his head and meekly apologize for upsetting his mother, fleeting memories of his mum scolding him flashing through his brain. But the feeling quickly dissipates when he sees you, frazzled and anxious, running towards him like an unstoppable force that reminds him of the ocean wind.

It's a stunning sight, Simon notes absently; however, he doesn't take any longer to admire the view you make running towards him. Or, well, the boy. Rather than looking at Simon, you're looking at the lad he's been talking to, a wild, worried look in your eyes the closer you get, glancing at Simon quickly, warily, then back at the boy, the look of a mother bear ready to defend her cub gracing your features, and that's when it clicks.

Ah. Simon.

Your boy's name is Simon.

Funny, that. It almost makes him snort.

The lad in question doesn't seem to register your near feral state, but Simon steps away from your wayward son as to not aggravate you any further.

"Mama, I made a friend!" Your son announces proudly once you rush up to them. "He lives next to us! In, um..."

"3A," Simon interjects when the kid falters. You glance at him in acknowledgment before turning back to your child.

"Oh? How sweet." You smile tightly at the lad, giving him a subtle once over for anything out of place, and reach out to gently tug him further away from Simon, crouching to pick him up. "It's good to make friends with the neighbors, honey, but you can't go running off like that. I was worried when you took off without warning."

The boy in your arms looks properly contrite, bowing his head and wrapping his arms around your neck, voice muffled as he apologizes, "I know. I'm sorry, Mama. I won't runaway ever again. Promise. The nice man told me you would be upset."

"Did he?" You look at Simon, gaze still guarded but there's a hint of something grateful in your eyes. "Well, he was right. I was upset, but as long as you keep your promise, you're forgiven."

His little name twin perks up, giggling and hugging you tighter. "I will! I love you, Mama."

"I love you, too, hon." You give your son a tender look, pressing a kiss to his temple, but it drops once you look at Simon, studying him with a cautious look. You hesitate for a second longer before adjusting your hold on your boy then hold a hand out, giving him your name and your gratitude. "3A? Are you new? I haven't seen you around... Regardless, thank you for keeping an eye on this one. I hope he didn't cause you any trouble."

"I travel for work." He grips your hand and gives it a squeeze, "And he didn't. Your boy's a good lad. I'm Simon."

Your eyebrows lift, mouth dropping slightly agape and hand lingering in his perhaps a tad too long before you recover, letting go, and smile sweetly at your boy who stares up at him with wide, awed eyes. "My name is Simon, too!"

You don't make a sound, but Simon can see you shake with silent laughter, your eyes sparkling for the child in your arms. He catches your eye, and you tilt your head with a hopeful, doe-eyed look for him to indulge your boy a little longer.

Ah, what the hell.

"Really?" Simon raises a disbelieving brow. "Since when?"

"Since I was born!" The boy laughs and you shoot Simon a genuine smile. "You're funny, Simon."

Oh, Johnny could tell your boy just how funny he could really be. He can already hear the groan his sergeant would give.

Don't put the poor lad through that, LT.

He's not hearing any complaints, Johnny. The lad seems to appreciates his humor. And you do too from the looks of it.

"It's a fine name, innit?"

"Uh-huh! Mama named me!"

He switches to look at you. "That right?"

Your smile turns a hint shy under his attention, but you nod with a noncommittal hum, adding nothing more to the conversation. Instead, you start your own. An abrupt, obvious dismissal. "Well, sorry to hold you up, Simon, but we should get going. This Simon needs to go school supply shopping."

Your son pouts, but otherwise doesn't complain. Good lad.

"Say goodbye to," your eyes wash over him, darting up and down, properly taking him in, "Big Simon, Simon."

A rush of amusement passes through him. That's a new one. Not the worst thing he's ever heard, but certainly accurate. He might even like it.

Big Simon tilts his head, raising a brow, and immediately you fluster at the nickname you've given him, eyes widening and head ducking down so you don't have to look him in the eyes, but it's too late to take it back. Little Simon is already waving goodbye at him.

"Bye, Simon, it was nice to meet you!"

There's a flash, and for a moment, Simon sees another young lad waving at him in another mother's arms, another Riley's voice echoing in his ear, asking him when he's gonna settle down, but then they're gone in a blink and he's looking at you and Little Simon again.

It almost makes him pause, but Simon forces them out of his mind and focuses on you and the boy in your arms.

"Nice to meet you too, kid." He gestures to you next. "Be good for your mum. She's a lovely lady, and lovely ladies deserve the best, yeah?"

Your son agrees with an enthusiastic nod, but while he remains oblivious to your flustered state, Simon feels an unfamiliar sort of satisfaction when you stutter out your own goodbyes, leaving him to ponder on things he hasn't thought of in years.

Settle down, huh? That's not for him, but looking at you and your lad...

Simon can almost see the appeal in a domestic life.

-

wrote this kinda sleepy, idk how I feel about it hope its alright tho

[raven-dor]

me and my husband

In which gwayne hightower is overprotective of his pregnant wife, and she begins to worry about the outcome of the birth

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader

WARNINGS: angst, anxiety, rough pregnancy, mentions of blood, arguing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

AN: I read "chose me" by @entitled-fangirl and had to write something similar for gwayne!! this could also be read as part of the come back to me universe, but you do not have to read any other fic to understand the context!!

She watched from the dark hall, her heart fluttering as he leaned back, exposing his neck and upper chest. Pregnancy awoke a dangerous animal inside her, one that needed her husband near her at all times. 

Instead, he sat in his office. 

She could not blame him; it was hard work, taking care of Old Town in place of his uncle’s absence. Seeing as his cousin had died recently, Gwayne would stand to inherit the Hightower title, and he all but jumped at the chance to begin his training.

But as of late, it seemed as if she needed him more than he needed her. Mere thoughts seemed to drown out her happiness, every attempt to block them futile. The larger she grew, the closer she got to the inevitable. She cleared her throat, making herself known to her husband. 

“Gwayne?” He looked up, smiling brightly. 

“My love! You should be in bed.” He stood up, ushering her over to a cushion. She glared, letting him coddle her for now.

“I am not inept.” 

“I know, darling.” He knelt in front of her, kissing her hand gently. “But you also know that I cannot help but worry for you.” He caressed her stomach, whispering. “And how is our little one?” 

“You have no need to worry, I assure you. The Maesters say the babe is perfectly healthy; there is no cause for concern.”

“And you?” He kissed her hand once more. “How do you fare?”

She was taken aback by that question, avoiding the question. “Do not worry about me.” 

“That is my job as your husband.” He walked back to his desk, putting out the flickering candle. “And Maesters are not always correct.” 

“That is a rather skeptical view.” She grabbed the handles of the chair, pushing herself up. Gwayne glared. 

“Please ask for my aid next time you plan on standing.” 

“Shall I ask you to help me relieve myself as well?” She glared back. “I love you; you know that I do. But I am not a frail piece of straw. I will not break from a gust of wind.”

“You are carrying the future heir to the Hightower name, my dear.” 

Terms like that make her uneasy. That is all she heard all day. ‘Future heir,’ ‘Hightower name,’ ‘a boy.’ All phrases she had heard over a hundred times. She just wanted a moment of peace where she was not reminded how little she mattered in this situation. A tight smile graced her lips, and she lost all humor in her tone. “As I am constantly reminded.” 

He grabbed her hand, walking slowly out of the office. “All I ask is that you take care. If not for me, then for the sake of our child.” 

“I am careful.” She glared. “You know this. It’s not as if I go looking for things to hurt the babe. Do not treat me like a child to be watched over.” 

He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. “I do not mean to upset you-” 

“Well, you have.” She scoffed. “You have somehow managed to insult my care for your future line and my child in one blow. It is astonishing, truly. I applaud you.” 

“You know that was not my intention.” He shut their bedroom door, removing his shirt. Y/N tried to keep herself from blushing at the sight, but when he looked like that, it was hard to do. He knelt in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. “I am sorry.” 

She hummed, walking away and sitting in front of her vanity. “Yes, well, I suppose I forgive you.” 

He grinned. “I am glad of it.” 

The woods were peaceful, a nice retreat from the bustling of Old Town. Her velvet green dress dragging behind her. She hummed, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the trees swaying. There was a lake nearby that she desperately wanted to swim in, and stare up into the sky of blue. Pushing the tall grass out of her way, the clearing stretched out before her, the lake at the center. She grinned, running down the hill with a newfound joy.

“Y/N? Where are you?” 

Her smile fell, remembering the whole reason she had even been ‘allowed’ to go on this excursion. He’d only let her go if he came along. She sighed, turning around and walking back up the hill. “Coming, my love.” 

The auburn-haired man smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Where did you run off to?” 

“The clearing.” She traced shapes on his chest. “I was thinking, perhaps you could join me for a swim. It is a perfect day for it.” 

“I-” 

“My lord.” Their guard’s voice echoed through the forest. Y/N groaned, falling against her husband’s chest. Gwayne kissed the top of her head, smiling sympathetically. “Another time, I swear to you.” She sighed, nodding. A finger hooked under her chin, his eyes serious. “You look far too melancholy, my love.” 

“Well, perhaps if-” 

“My lord, I’m sorry, but it is most urgent.” 

Gwayne sighed, intertwining his hand with hers. “What is it?”

The Maester’s Wing was dim, with just a few candles keeping light. Gwayne had been summoned to settle a squabble between the townfolk, leaving Y/N to visit the old man herself. She tapped her foot, waiting for the Maester to ask her the questions she dreaded. But those questions never came. 

“My lady.” 

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Maester Jon, it is wonderful to see you.” She held her stomach. “Tell me, any developments my husband or I should be aware of?” 

“Unfortunately, yes, my lady.” He sat down. “It seems, from what we can tell so far, that the birth may result in a breach pregnancy.” Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she felt her breath catch. “A breach pregnancy may result in a choice needing to be made.” He leaned forward, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do you understand what this means, my lady?” 

She nodded, standing up quickly. “I do. Thank you, Maester Jon. I shall relay the news to my lord husband.”

She gave one last look at the dark corner before practically running out of the wing. She burst through the hall doors, dinner in full swing. There sat Gwayne, eyes drooping, visibly exhausted from his duties. 

Who was she to worry him anymore?

Y/N sat beside her husband, kissing his cheek. “How was your day, my love?” 

“Infinitely better, now that you are here.” He smiled. “How was the visit?” 

She took a large sip of her wine. “Well. All is well.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you.” 

He grinned, squeezing back. “I love you much more, my dear.” 

If he chose the babe, she knew she would surely die from heartbreak before she bled. She laughed, her eyes watering. “I do not think that is possible.” 

Since learning of the news, she’d been restless, barely sleeping and often waking before the sun. Its bright rays peeked through the curtains, hitting her skin. The warmth soothed her for a moment, but it was just that, a moment. 

The babe kicked harshly, a quiet groan leaving her. She stared at the ceiling, thinking that in just a few short weeks, she’d be giving birth in this very bed, staring at the same ceiling. 

It had always been described to her as horrible and painful beyond recognition. And now that she was carrying an heir, which could possibly be breach, she almost wished she could go back to when they first met and stop herself. When she didn’t have to worry about what she did or where she went, she could just be free. 

He would be pressured into choosing the child over her; she knew this. Sometimes, when the need for an heir was strong, women had been carelessly cut open, being left for dead. It had been done many times, most notably in her lifetime, by King Viserys. Rhaenyra had told her of his actions: how he’d carelessly cut Aemma open, and her mother bled out on the bed without ever getting to hold her babe. 

She looked over at her husband, fast asleep and dead to the world. His hair covered his eyes; his face was shoved into the pillow haphazardly. She giggled; he’d always slept like there was no tomorrow; it was heartwarming, to say the least. She leaned over, pushing the hair out of his face, kissing his forehead gently. 

 Rolling to her side, she quietly stood, careful not to wake him. Grabbing her robe from the wardrobe, she made her way to the dining hall, eager to eat something of actual sustenance. 

After learning of the news, she had picked at her dinner, telling Gwayne it was because the babe made her nauseous. 

In a way, it had. 

The smell of bacon and eggs flooded her senses, and she rounded the corner, the doors of the hall wide open. Greeting the occasional servant that passed by, she sat down, piling food onto her plate. 

“My lord.” Y/N looked up to see her husband stalking toward her, not even acknowledging the man who had greeted him. Odd, he normally slept as long as he could before starting his day. She smiled brightly. “Good morning, my love.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it a good morning?” 

“Quite.” She tilted her head. “Why? Is something amiss?” 

He nodded, crossing his arms. “I awoke, and my wife was gone. Imagine my surprise.” 

She had felt horrible leaving him, and fighting would only give him more cause to choose the babe. “I am sorry if I scared you.” 

“You should be. And another-” He stopped, shock adorning his features. “You are sorry?” 

“I should have woken you. It was my mistake.” She pat the chair next to her. “Please, join me.” 

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have to meet with the steward this morning.” 

Her heart clenched. “I can join you if you’d like-” 

“It is not necessary. I will only bore you.” 

She murmured, reaching out to grab his hand. “You have never bored me.” 

“You are kind, but I’m sorry, I cannot be distracted.” He grabbed a plate, placing a biscuit and two pieces of bacon haphazardly.

She scoffed, glaring at her lord husband. “I did not realize I was such a distraction."

"Y/N...."

"Perhaps I should stay in my chambers for the remainder of my pregnancy. To keep you from further distraction.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” 

She stood, her eyes cold. “I know nothing of the sort.” She looked over his shoulder, beckoning over a servant. “Please move my things into the adjoining room. I will be sleeping there-” 

Gwayne sat his plate down, looking at the servant. “Do not move her things.”  

“My lady?” The young girl looked frightened, scared that she was caught in the middle of their argument. 

Y/N sighed, dismissing the girl. “It is alright.” She walked away, yelling back at her husband. “I shall do it myself.” 

“Y/N!” Gwayne yelled, dropping his plate and running after her. “Come back here at once.” 

She ignored him, walking faster. The stairs proved to be a challenge, holding the railing tight. Gwayne placed a hand on her back. “Let me-” 

She flinched, pushing him back. “Don’t.” 

He mumbled. “You may hate me all you want after this.” 

“After what-” He hooked his arm under her legs, carrying her up the stairs. “Gwayne Hightower! You let me down right now!” 

The top of the stairs was a relief; she practically jumped out of his arms. She walked into their joint chambers, filling her trunk with things she would need. Gwayne sighed, watching from the doorway. “Will you please just-” 

“I will leave you to your devices, my lord. I hope your meetings prove well spent.” Dragging the trunk through the door, she slammed it in his face. 

That had been three days ago. They’d seen each other in the halls and at meals, but other than that, Y/N steered clear of her husband. For the better part of the day, he’d been in a meeting with the patrons of Old Town, or so she’d heard. Y/N took that as an opportunity, rushing out of the castle’s gates. Squealing, she cut through the tall grass once more, racing down the hill towards the lake. She threw her dress off, her petticoat barely revealing her modesty. Not that anyone would see, this part of the wood was only known by the family. 

The water did wonders for her nerves, cooling her skin. Her hair stretched out past her waist, flowing like the tall grass that surrounded this oasis. She floated for what seemed like hours; the babe had not stirred once. She hummed, rubbing her bump gently. “It is quite peaceful here, is it not?” 

A kick. 

Y/N grinned, her eyes tearing up. “Please, try your best to make this an easy birth. It would break my heart not to meet you. If that is the case, don’t worry. Your father’s a good man; he’ll raise you well.” 

No kick. 

She laughed. “Do not ignore your mother. It’s quite disrespectful.” 

A kick. 

“I miss him too, my love.” 

A voice broke through the silence. “Miss who exactly?” 

Y/N jumped, standing in the water. “My lord, I did not expect you-” 

“I was in a meeting when a guard informed me you were running out of the castle gates.” His face looked conflicted, but she didn’t want to address the fact that he most likely heard that whole ‘conversation,’ so she remained silent. “Is there something you wish to tell me?” 

So he had heard. She smiled, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. “I do not know what you are referring to, my lord.” 

“Stop.” Gwayne sighed. “You haven’t called me that since before we were engaged, and I do not wish for you to start again.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Please come out of the lake.” 

She walked past his hand to her dress, every attempt to retrieve it proving futile. “Here.” Gwayne knelt down, picking it up off the stump. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?” 

“I would have figured it out, thank you very much.” She glared, pulling the frock over her head. “Do you not have another meeting to attend, my lord?” 

“I canceled them.” He laughed, stepping forward. “After I heard my wife was running away from our home, I thought it best to tend to the matter myself.” 

“How wise of you.” Y/N crossed her arms. 

“Shall we go to bed?” 

“I am not tired.” She walked up the hill, leaving him behind. “Have a restful night, my lord.” 

She slammed her bedroom door shut, leaning against it. She was tired; she hated to admit it. But she wouldn’t have told him that. She walked over to the window, placing the bouquet she picked on the mantle. A reminder of the freedom she once had. A reminder of life before she faced death itself. 

A knock rang out. “May I come in?” 

She tensed. “If you must.” She faced the window, too scared to face him. If she looked at him, truly looked at him, she thought she would start crying. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“I have to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

She nodded, walking away from the window and placing her robe in her wardrobe. “Ask it then.” 

“Do you still love me?”

Her heart stopped. “I-” 

Gwayne stepped forward, wrapping a singular arm around her waist. He drew her in, his scent engulfing her senses. She fought herself not to fall for his spell, but as he leaned his head down, and his breath hitting her neck, she knew she would not last. “If you do not, speak it plainly because I- I cannot go on like this any longer.” 

She turned around in his arms, placing her arms on his chest. “I do not believe I could ever stop loving you. Trust me when I say this.” She smiled. “I’m afraid it’s terminal.” 

“Ah.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Then what is it that troubles you so?” 

“I do not know what you-” 

“I beg you, do not finish that sentence.” He tilted her chin up, worry in his eyes. “What ales you, my love?” 

“I am simply nervous.” She to be out of his arms. The longer she stayed in his embrace, the more compelled she felt to tell him. “It is nothing, I swear to you.”

He raised his eyebrows, pulling her hands from his chest and kissing them gently. “Please do not lie to me.”

“That night I visited the Maester, he told me something.” He nodded. “He said with the way the pregnancy is progressing, it is possible that the babe will be born breach.” Her voice grew quieter the longer she spoke. 

“That’s not all, is it?” 

She pushed out of his hold, walking to the other side of the room. “I’m so sorry, Gwayne. Truly, I am. Please forgive me-” a sob wrecked her body. “But I want to live. Please.” 

Gwayne shook his head. Where was this coming from? “Whatever are you talking about?” 

“I know I have been acting radical as of late, and I apologize, I just thought-” She hiccuped. “I thought it would make your choice easier.” 

“What choice, darling?” 

She whispered. “Between me and the babe.” 

“Why would I-” It dawned on him. Had she really been dealing with this all by herself? “Oh, my sweet girl. Why did you not tell me?” 

“I didn’t want to stress you any further.” She hugged herself. “Please, Gwayne. I swear I will give you another heir if this pregnancy-” She shivered. “Just don’t cut me. I beg you.” 

He dropped down in front of her, grabbing her hands in his. “Listen to me well. I could sire a hundred children, but you. You are one of a kind, and I will always choose you.” He kissed the back of her hands once more. “Irreplaceable. You must know this.” 

“Gwayne, no one is truly irreplaceable.” 

He stood, his eyes dark. “Do not say such things again. Swear it to me.” 

“I-” 

“Swear it, Y/N.” 

“I swear.” She whispered, cheeks red. “I swear to you.” 

He nodded, smiling lightly. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For coddling you.” He stepped closer, caressing her bump. “I am scared as well. My own mother had many a difficult pregnancy, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” 

“I am sorry as well.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “I should have come to you with my worries. I did not want to burden you. And I will make sure you have your heir. I promise you that.” 

“I do not care if the Hightower name crumbles away into nothingness. As long as you are content, I will be as well.” He leaned down, their foreheads touching. “There would be no point to this without you. I fear I could not do this if you were not by my side.” 

“You have been doing perfectly fine as of late.” She winced. "I truly am sorry.” 

“No more of that.” He whispered, staring at her lips. “May we please go to bed?” 

She nodded, knowing if she tried to speak that words would fail her. She lay on the bed beside him, tracing his freckles. “Sleep, my love.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I will be here when you wake, I promise.”