#womb shedding

[transmissionsfromthebattlefield]

A Roundtable Discussion on Heavy Metal (and Melanie)

A few days ago, my boyfriend sent me a link to Lil Pump’s recent smash hit “Pump Rock x Heavy Metal” saying, and I quote, “DO NOT LISTEN TO THIS.” But it’s hard to not forcefully contaminate myself to music that is atrocious to make the good music all the more worthwhile. That’s how dedicated I am to my love of music.

Besides, I was meaning to explore this on my own anyways after hearing Lil Pump’s glorious, glorious weird scream-grunt noise on an Instagram story. Let’s review whether or not Mr. Gucci Gang is able to elevate two of rock’s most iconic subgenres to the modern age.

“Bob” help us.

The intro is, fittingly, the most stereotypical take on punk rock possible, and is probably most similar to what disconnected old farts think all punk rock sounds like. Mediocre Generica was the title of a (much more sonically interesting, if guilty pleasurable) Leftöver Crack album, and it fits here. Upon further reserach, last.fm tagged this song as rock, metal, nu metal, rap metal, drone metal avant-garde, beatdown hardcore, AND crossover thrash, so maybe my aural analysis is subpar. Maybe all this time I was actually the musical equivalent of one of those people who gets repulsed by eating anything better than McDonald’s and I had no idea. If so, I feel ashamed.

In this striking vein, I’ll give the rest of the song some credit: the production is actually interesting! Sonically, it’s more interesting and attention-grabbing than a lot of the more recent music I’ve heard, with an intense throbbing bass line that I particularly like. Too bad it’s got Lil Pump singing over it. I love having to hear scrawny men with awful hair sing about emo bitches and having a dagger dick, which is extremely disturbing. He calls himself a narcissist in this song, which makes sense with how self-indulgent and oblivious to common sense the lyrics are. As a complete outsider to the whole “emo rap” or whatever scene, I’m kind of fascinated by the repeated motif of wrist-slitting throughout the song - if this song is declaring itself “heavy metal,” does this mean that all those sensational news reports from the eighties about how those poor teens were beckoned to kill themselves because a Judas Priest song told them to, were actually true? It’s hard to overlook lyrical content when someone has such an awful voice.

This song seems to have been created for people who enjoy the concept of punk rock and heavy metal, but don’t have much knowledge in anything beyond the sloganeering and looking like you have street cred. I doubt Lil Pump has much knowledge past that regard either, or has any interest in going beyond it in his music.

I had been meaning to write this post for a short while, but I kept getting busy. But yesterday morning, the Instagram algorithm similarly offered me another current music faux pas that my masochistic brain just had to subject myself to, and I just had to get something about it out there. This time, it was a paragraph Melanie Martinez had written explaining one of the songs on her new album, because her fans are apparently too dumb to be able to come to their own conclusions about the meaning of her songs. She says:

This is obviously the best thing to be reading while you’re preparing breakfast. Funnily enough, Lil Pump also alludes to period sex in his previously mentioned song.

I read the lyrics, which I refuse to link because they’re stupid, and I listened to as much of the song I could stand, which wasn’t very much. It sucked. You know when you only read the lyrics to a song and you come up with your own musical accompaniment in your head? I knew it wasn’t going to be as good as my brain’s assumptions, but I was stunned. You would think that an artist who is supposedly going through some radical image change would make music that similarly pushes boundaries, not just something created solely to be covered on a ukulele. It was one of the most mild mannered, unoffensive sounding songs I’d ever heard.

As for the lyrical content, it is sad to me how Melanie could not even come up with a basic metaphor to convey her idea. Like Little Pumperton, who uses the usual guns-and-cars flexing to communicate masculine hood prowess, Mel resorts to the most basic, blatant concepts to get across her point of being...a woman who exists and does things, I guess. As a cisgender young female, I technically should be on this song’s side, but it only comes off as condescending. I don’t need something that is completely natural and familiar to me explained to me in such, er, explicit terms. (“Womb shedding.” Gag.)

If I’m somewhere near the target audience for Melanie’s music in terms of my age and sex, then I’d say we deserve better. Young women can think for themselves and don’t need to be spoon-fed a fourteen year old’s concept of lyrical depth in order to feel “empowered.” Neither do young men need watered down portrayals of material wealth, hoe-wrangling, and glorified self harm. In today’s world, everyone fears being misunderstood. But the answer to that should not be undermining people’s intelligence and spoon-feeding them lowest common denominator nonsense. People should be allowed to bring their own interpretations to the songs they listen to and not have everything spelled out to them. Nuance and complexity are good things, and they should be present in what we see, read, and listen to. We should be encouraged to think critically about what we consume.

If we don’t, then...well, I guess we let songs like these take the world by storm.

[alaveii]

Hermione: Harry, are you.. okay?

Harry: Mione I haven’t been okay since i was conceived

[braixen]

babys first vinyl

[6mayhem]

everyone's talking about being irrationally scared of quicksand and the bermuda triangle as a child. well i was scared of my mother's womb and also crucifixion

[josephinekhawaja]

Gotta be my weirdest fanmix pick for a ship, but my first time streaming this album, I knew this is Werestone🩸🐺. I can see the vision of each of their personalities in this, Jack and Elsa. And I would agree of the former that he would be "He says he doesn't care, that he's into this"🤐🤐🤐🤐. (And then this very month -- whilst revisiting OTP in the lead-up to their technicolour re-release -- happened across a Jack x Elsa fic on this subject matter so feeling validated in my, lunacy.) I ultimately find it a beautiful and empowering song, however much the topic might weird out other people, so tacking this on to Oh Land in my still feeble song list for them. (Also, as there is a bit of a breeding kink in this, kind of disappointed that a year out there is still no baby fic for these two. Not just because I am a weirdo with a weakness for baby fics, but You Know nothing would turn Ulysses in his grave more than the Bloodstone bloodline being sullied by a half-werewolf grandchild, and I would cackle.)

...Pain like a blade on the front lawn But I don't give a fuck 'cause I'm so strong I don't gotta act I'm ethereous I could win a fight on my period Matter fact, right now I could build a pyramid You're messin' with my cycle, that is dangerous Skin ready for my heavy daily cream I keep it handy Womb shedding any lessons Making room for blessings Juice melting like raspberry, pomegranate, it's so scary How my aura got him howling at my Moon Cycle, baby Moon Cycle, baby Moon Cycle, baby Moon Cycle, baby Moon Cycle, baby

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI Simon encouraging you to take his cock when you're scared it won't fit :(

"Come on, baby." he coos while stroking his hard throbbing cock which is seeping with pre-cum.

You timidly walk up to him and straddle his lap, scared but aroused with anticipation.

Your eyes widen and your mouth forms an o shape at the size of him up close.

You take him in your shaking hand and smear the pre-cum all over his shaft, using it as lube and you align his cock with your wet pussy.

"It won't fit, Si!" your voice wavers, your body trembling, anxious eyes gazing into his.

"Shh, baby! I'll make it fit!" he purrs, chest rumbling, eyes dark with lust.

He grabs your hips and slowly sinks you down, splitting your sweet little pussy open on his fat cock.

Your tight walls swallow his thick cock, veins and ridges rubbing against the soft sticky flesh.

You throw your head back and emit a guttural moan as your ass hits his thigh, his fat cock buried inside you to the hilt.

"Good girl." he praises, kissing your lips and softly caressing your hips to soothe your ache.

He slightly pushes the bulge on your belly and you gasp at the warm sensation.

You feel so full, your tight needy cunt stuffed to the brim with his meaty cock, warm tight walls stretched so wide you never thought it was even possible.

His tip strokes your cervix just right as you begin to slowly roll your hips.

And soon, you're digging your nails into his broad shoulders, a string of hiccupped moans pouring out of your lips as he bounces you up and down his cock.

He softly pants and grunts in your neck and his chest reverberates against yours, rubbing against your sensitive perky nipples.

"Ahh...ahhh...Simonnn!" you sob out, shedding tears of pain and pleasure.

"My pretty girl... taking me so well, love!" he groans as his rough fingers dig into the plush of your hips, thrusting up into your tight hole mercilessly.

You feel the stream of sheer euphoria flow through you as you cum around his cock, coating it with your warm cream.

He utters a growl as he fills up your womb with his seed.

You flop onto his shoulder out of exhaustion.

"You ok, babe?" he questions worriedly.

"Never been better!" you reply with a chuckle.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny reincarnates as Tim's twin. The only problem is that his ghost powers act up in the womb from either the gross ecto in Gotham or an artifact that Janet handled while pregnant. Because of this only Tim is 'born', the Drake's either assume one was miscarried or never knew they were twins.

Tim meanwhile grows up with a brother his parents ignore more than him. It takes Danny an embarrassingly long time to realize what's going on and fix it but by then the twins are around 4 so can't really explain to the rest of Gotham.

When they become Robin, either Nightwing and Batman are almost convinced he's like Harvey with how many times they've found him talking and discussing plans with himself. Or with how bad their collective mental health was at that time think they're going crazy.

Only Alfred knows what's going on because he's Alfred.

Tim Drake is a strange child. Ever since he was little, he would point to empty air and interact with it as if someone was standing there and responding.

At first, his parents thought it was cute that he had an imaginary friend, and Mrs. Drake even shed a few tears when Tim proclaimed that it was the brother he had at birth. The second son of the Drakes had been growing healthy in her stomach until the very end of the first trimester when he simply vanished.

Not died, not stop growing- vanished as if he was never there.

The doctors and the Drakes had no idea what happened. Test after tests were done, but in the end, they could only conclude that the second baby was gone. It was theorized that Tim may have devoured his brother in the womb, though there had been no symptoms that Janet suffered from.

When Tim was born, Janet had nearly died with a false labor that happened only ten minutes after giving birth. The nurses and doctors had been panicking because they could not understand where the contractions originated. False labor was contractions during pregnancy, not after labor, so there was nothing the body could confuse for the urge to push.

They ruled it as a freak false labor since the only other match was Janet entering second labor. Still, as much as the nurses and doctors were ready for a monochorionic monoamniotic twin, nothing came out. Eventually, Janet passed out, and her body finally finished doing whatever it was doing.

It was no surprise that this experience ended up giving Janet postpartum depression. She tried to connect to Tim, but something in her just never clicked, and Jack was beside himself, trying to care for his child while his wife drifted further and further away.

A therapist suggested Janet return to work, which seemed to do wonders for her. She took part in multiple digs and went on many trips, but eventually, Jack felt like she was never home. Worried his wife wouldn't return to him, Jack jumped on a plane while leaving Tim in the capable hands of the housekeeper.

He said it would be a short trip just to get Janet to come back and get treatment.

Jack ended up helping at the dig site, extending his stay to his once again bright and loving wife. Seeing her back to her usual self led to him booking them another trip.

Then another, and another, and antoher. Before long, the Drakes rarely spent time in Gotham, and Tim grew bigger in their absence. Janet loved Tim, but seeing him only brought back guilt that she could not love him like other mothers could so quickly. She was so excited for their baby and had loved him with her whole heart while he was inside of her, but now, seeing those big blue eyes blink up at her, all Janet wanted to do was run.

She drowned in guilt, and sometimes, it felt that she was only breathing because Jack was there for her. He dragged her back to the surface only long enough to take a breath and be dragged under again.

She missed his first steps, his first words, and his first laugh. That's why hearing him call out to Danny was so jarring. She had stopped outside his room, carrying gifts in the form of toys, hoping they would make up for the fact that she had only seen him a handful of times for a solid year.

He was playing with blogs, babbling to "Danny." She had picked out the name of her other son when she found out she was having twins. The only person Tim could have heard that name from was the housekeeper.

Janet fired her after wiping her tears. She would hire a replacement that wouldn't mock her two-year-old son. She let Tim keep his imaginary friend, figuring he would outgrow it.

Tim didn't.

Over the years, Tim became increasingly convinced Danny was with him. He even started turning in classwork under the name Danny, and when a teacher would call him, he would respond with "I don't know. Tim is better at this than me."

Sometimes, when he acted out, Tim would be the one responsible. Tim was the one who got bored quickly in class, needed to be challenged more, and preferred to follow whatever hair-brain idea he had. Photography, skateboarding, and actual crime shows were what made Tim happy.

Then, he became Danny when he showed effort in school but struggled to keep his solid, slightly above-average results. This side of her son preferred astronomy and baking and seemed confused by their wealth. Almost as if he was new money instead of the old wealth the Drakes had. Janet also heard that Danny seemed to stick his nose in whenever a bully targeted a classmate, confronting them with a bravo she could not associate with Tim.

Tim was more like her. They dealt with their opponents through clever planning instead of confirmation, which Jack preferred. He talked to himself a lot, too. The Drakes weren't even in Gotham, but their family's whispers echoed through the gala halls anyway. As young Tim walked by, there were rumors and speculations.

The elites would gossip as Tim continued arguing that the decor was worth the money and that they couldn't steal it, no matter how much food it could buy people in their charities.

He whispers, yelling at the air as Janet watches from across the hall, her stomach turning with love and repulse.

Years after his birth, she could not bring herself to stand before him for too long. Jack followed because he worried she do something to herself if he didn't.

She could not deny it now that Tim was nine. Janet realized, after a while of reading reports involving her son, that he likely suffered from a split personality disorder. Seeing it in person was entirely different.

They'll likely have to have him instituted, and the thought almost has her throwing up. She wonders if she would have caught on faster had she been a better mother and been around.

She steels herself, crossing the room to speak to her son. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Jack has noticed and quickly tries to make an excuse to stop her. Fortunately, depending on who you asked, the men looking for an investor don't let their husbands go that easily, so she is clear.

"No, I won't ask him for an autograph!" Tim hisses, looking at the wall to his right as if someone were leaning against it with him. Janet's resolves wabble a little at Tim's pout. There is a short pause before Tim goes red. "I can't do that! Mr.Wayne is really protective of Richard."

Dread pools into her stomach as Tim's features shift, and a grin with a mad twist settles on his lips. "I already have all the pictures I want about him. My favorite is the one I took last night."

This can't wait. Janet loves her son; she does not care what anyone says that she doesn't, but she can't allow him to harm others. Stalking will eventually lead to harm; she knows it. Those are the early signs.

She opens her mouth, only for Tim to turn to her with a coldness she hadn't noticed he always regarded her with.

She had never seen joy on his face, so she had never had a chance to compare how he looked at her and Jack to how he looked at others. How he looked at Danny.

Janet feels everything in her freeze, and a tremble grows in her arms and hands. Trying to hide it, she drowns the glass of wine in her hand in one gulp but instantly regrets it.

The world become slightly hazy that alcoholic cause, and maybe it's been a long time since she last drank. She could have sworn she was seeing double for a moment, and an exact copy of her child was leaning on the wall behind Tim.

But that wouldn't make sense. Tim's eyes weren't green.

"Son." Jack's warm presence is behind her, placing a comforting hand on her back, and she can't bring herself to speak as her husband commands. He likely feels her trembles. "It's time to leave."

The second image of Tim flickers out of sight, and Janet walks out of the Wayne Gala, wondering if her son inherited his madness from her. Neither adult notices the soft thump of the backseat, nor do they pay much attention to Tim carefully buckling the air or how the blanket he keeps back there spreads itself across Tim's lap.

Janet falls into old habits, and instead of being up to what she realized that night, she convinces Jack to go to Guatemala. They are gone first thing the following day.

Tim watches them leave from the top of the grand stairway, his eyes glowing green in heavy judgment and ice that Janet would have felt in the coldest winter. Jack is chatting nonsense to fill the silence and keep Janet grounded, but when she peeks over her shoulder to the Manor, she spots Tim in the window of his room, watching them leave with a frown.

His green eyes are gone, and she feels a chill race down her spine. There is no way he could have run up the stairs, gone down four different hallways, and gotten to the window before they could get to the waiting car.

"Goodbye, Tim. Keep the house safe!" Jack says as he opens the car door for Janet, but he's talking in the doorway. Because that's where the grand stairway is. She hears her son respond but can't tell what he is saying.

She can only gaze upwards to where Tim waves at her while clutching the curtain. His mouth doesn't move. He isn't the one speaking to Jack.

Janet sits in the leather of the car, Jack beside her, holding her hand tenderly, and she rethinks about having Tim instituted. She should hire an exorcist instead.

When they get back, of course. The car pulls away from the driveway, and Janet does her best not to look back even as the door slams shut, as if the sound was meant to tell her never to return. She closes her eyes, holds her breath, and only lets it go when they are far away from Drake Manor and her son.

Maybe one day she can be a good mother.

[altieris]

cw; obsessive!anakin, toxic!anakin, babytrapping, afab reader, 18+

anakin skywalker is an emotional, clingy, fanatic, and obsessive little bastard.

in my heart of hearts, i believe anakin is fucking obsessed with you. he is lovesick. you're just...you, so gentle and warm. you've shown him so much love and care, and he's so so in love with you. he's ready to do just about anything for you. and hes awfully clingy, but affectionately so. he's always holding you close to his body, nuzzling his face all over yours, and kissing you excessively. sometimes it almost seems like he's trying to merge with you.

he tries to move in with you like 2 months into your relationship. he's all whiny and practically begging, "baby, we spend so much time together. why keep going back and forth like this? :(", and you solely agree cause his pout is just too pretty.

honestly, he loses his fucking mind at the mere idea of not being with you. literally. i'm talking, he'd be going on about his day, then suddenly, he's struck with the mental picture of not being yours, and you not being his. and he's brought down to his knees, head in his hands and everything.

it's to the point where he starts getting so possessive and jealous that he cannot fucking bear your friends. the concept of you taking a liking, platonic or not, to anyone but him makes him so nauseous that he's ready to throw up (that's not to say he hasn't already). and it's mutual. your friends fucking hate him, he's so mentally deranged and they can't figure out why you're with him.

oh and woe to you if any of them are men. he is in pure and utter agony. he will visibly sulk, pout and huff 24/7, he's unbearable. and when he's alone, he'll blankly stare at himself in the mirror, scream into his pillow, and cry himself to sleep.

the thought of you being with anyone but him - makes him physically incapable of breathing. it feels as if he's being suffocated. it makes him sick to his stomach and the thought of you loving anyone else makes him want to crawl up into a hole and die. he picks fights and argues with you because he just wants every ounce of your attention to be concentrated on him, needs your eyes to never stray off of him once, needs you to be all his at every waking moment. only his, his, his, his...can't you just give him that?!

and when he's finally able to see you, he practically combusts, he's fueled up by all the negative thinking :( he doesn't even stop to greet you, he just smashes his lips onto yours, and carries you to bed.

he fucks you in missionary, so he can look deep into your eyes, and show you just how much he loves you - tells you all about how he's willing to do whatever it takes for you to never, ever, leave his side. then he snarls harshly, going on about how he can't and won't let you go. and when he's close, he's practically shedding tears, begging you to never disappear on him. can't you see? he's an empty shell of a man without you, he cannot live without you. you tell him to pull out and he almost doesn't catch it due to the resounding obscene noises filling the room. almost. but he does. so he cages you in his arms, and plunges his dick so deep, and he starts babbling, all pathetic, about how your kids would have his eyes, and your nose.

he practically wails when he buries himself to the hilt one last time, shooting his cum deep inside your womb. and you're about to push him off of you when he starts moving again, helplessly and feebly mewling, "i can't stop", hes so demanding and hopeless. hes physically incapable of bringing his messy thrusts to a halt...god, what do you do with him?

[vidals-harkness]

you’re so special, to me (rio vidal)

summary: nobody loves death. rio gets told a thousand times a day how much she's hated. but in the end, when it gets hard, there's always the one 'i love you' she can rely on. life's.

pairings: rio vidal x fem!reader

fic type: fluff with a smidge of angst

warnings: talks of death

word count: 1.08k

“I hate you!” Exclaimed the grieving daughter as Rio stood near the hospital bed.

“I hate you!” Yelled the mother as Rio cradled her baby in her arms.

“I hate you!” Screamed the husband, his wife’s body delicately walking beside her.

“I hate you!” Said the father, watching her take his hurting son away.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

Day in, day out, till the clocks stopped working. Year after year, since the world began spinning. All that hate, all that resentment.

Every time she would feel those rattling breaths, the halting hearts, the tears shed by their loved ones, the blood on the floor. She would feel their pulse against her fingertips, their timers ticking slower and slower. The sand running out from the hourglass.

She would take their hand, bring them peace, and the first thing to be said was “I hate you,”

Nobody loved death. This was a fact. There were exceptions: those who ran into her embrace, those who were cast away, those who were unloved, those who had nobody.

But in the end, it was always ‘I hate you’.

She would never admit it, but despite every single century, she had sat in the darkness and wept.

She’d watch you, envious.

You’d enter a room, and joy would follow. You’d make the hearts beat again, the pulse quicken. You’d form life in the wombs, you’d make little limbs move.

“You’re beautiful,” they all said.

You were wanted, you were what they wished for. Not her.

But she loved you. She loved your radiance, the light you carried. She loved the way your blessings were gentle, divine.

You made the cycle start again, made the flowers grow, the birds sing, and the grass sway, made the breath flow steady in the air.

You were Life.

She was the one that turned it all to ash. The one who snatched the breath away. She was the one who wilted the flowers, browned the grass, silenced the birds.

She was Death.

Yet when the time for tranquility came…there you were.

I hate you, I hate you, I—

“I love you,” you whispered. One whisper silenced the shouts.

“Why don’t they want me?” She asked, her hair falling softly onto her face as she lay with you—moments of rare peace.

“They are flawed creatures, my love,” you responded, ever tranquil and reasonable. “They don’t know the aid you provide, the peace, the release,”

“Nobody wants me,” she said, her tears staining her soft cheeks. Before they could fall on her robes your soft hand caught them, tender as a feather.

“I want you,” you said plainly.

“Why? All I bring is gloom and grief,”

“What you bring is peace and tranquility, cloaked behind the mortal blindness of grief,”

She listened to your heartbeat, she felt your warmth. She’d spent lifetime after lifetime taking, but could never give anything in return. You spend lifetime after lifetime only ever giving, only to never take anything to compensate.

“Selfless creature,” she scoffed. “You give and give and give, you never take,”

You pondered for a moment. “That is the consequence, my dear,”

“How?”

“I never have anything for myself,”

“You never get told you are hated, ever,” she countered plainly.

“The boy on the roof, the girl in the ward, the criminal in the prison,” you listed out. “Many hate life, but the sacred balance unfortunately rests the highest burden upon you, my love,”

“Life cannot love death,” she said.

“Yet I love you,” you replied, sealing your words with a kiss to her forehead. “You are my balance, you are my shadow, you are my everything,”

She smiled, a rare smile that brightened her eyes and warmed her heart. Unknowingly it did the same for you. It made her cold cheeks tint pink, made your own heart flutter.

“I am destruction,” she said.

“You are the destruction from which life begins again,” you whispered, fingertips trailing along her neck. “You are the rugged beauty of the mountains, the beauty of the fall, the beauty of a dandelion, of a thunderstorm,”

She felt your words calm her racing heart, she felt it drown out the sea of insults, she felt beautiful.

“I love you,” you said, with a conviction that only an angel could muster. “I love you as the sun loves the moon, as the sky loves the earth. I will keep loving you till the timer runs out, till the last grain of sand falls in the hourglass.

“You can pillage, you can murder, you can plunder. But even then I will see your wild, wild beauty, even then I will wonder like I do each and every day, how such a beautiful soul could love me as I am,”

She leaned up, her hands her support, giving Life a kiss, giving her beloved a kiss. Your lips moved in sync, a dance of gentle and harsh, light and darkness.

As you broke away, still so close that you were breathing each other’s air. She inhaled your scent—so clearly alive. Of moss and petrichor and spring and summer. She understood why your role was what it was.

You were the embodiment of comfort, of joy, of peace. You were the reason why she could keep going without withering away and remaining a mechanical shell of herself.

“You silence the voices within my mind,” she admitted quietly, her eyes locking in on yours. “Your eyes hold the universe, and out of the tens of millions of people who say they hate me, wish ill-will upon me, you are the only one who says you love me,”

Your eyes crinkled at the sides as you smiled, the universe within those heavenly irises shifting as it twinkled. “I will spend every single moment of my eternal existence reminding you that you are loved, Rio Vidal,”

She traced the lining of your lips, your face, your eyes with her fingertips. “Are you even real?”

“I exist only for you, my love,” you smiled. “And you’re so special, to me,”

That’s all she needed.

One voice amidst the thousands. One ‘I love you’ to break through the hate.

Just one you, to help her through it all.

And so Death settled in the embrace of Life, allowing the sand in the hourglass to fall, allowing the timer to tick. Each breath, first and last, thrummed through your synchronised heartbeats, and there she just stayed, listening to the one sentence which fell from your lips.

“I love you,”

hello my bao buns! i’m sorry for the delay in my works but tumblr keeps deleting them :<. i’m working on ‘baby witch from death’ and your requests. thank you all for your patience, bao buns! i love you all!

love, jaya

[yun-fangz]

San twitter links — Dom ver.

Pairing: San x fem!reader

a/n: HELLOOOOO AGAIN! thank you all for the support, im glad you all are enjoying these as much as i am. i want to say thank you again anonies for requesting another member, funny enough, san was one of the next members i was planning to do. 🫣 enjoy!

masterlist.

links/warnings below the cut. mdni 18+, content below.

warnings/tags: twt links, dom san!, certified ass lover!san, unprotected sex, backshots, spanking, dry humping, car sex, cunnilingus (fem rec) fingering, breeding kink, overstim, multiple orgasms, pet play, thigh riding, hand kink, manhandling, brat taming (sorta)

san loves rubbing you through your panties and hearing your whines and pleads for him fuck you. He'd coo as you buck against him, only for him to give your pussy a sharp spank, telling you to be good and maybe he will. link.

needy little thing, san would have you like this in the passenger seat as he drives. he'd rub slow circles around your aching clit as you try your hardest not to writhe under his touch. his favorite thing to do was edge you for as long as he could before pulling off to a secluded area and tossing you to the back, devouring you as if it were his final meal.

my favorite ass loving man.... backshots are a must. he loves having you spread out on your knees as he pushes his cock into you, watching in enjoyment as you immediately get to work rocking back against him. the way your ass moved against him has him quickly losing his composure though as he grabs your hips to meet you halfway, slowly but surely fucking you deep into the mattress. link.

on slower, more intimate nights, san loved to get you off on his fingers. you were spread wide while he toyed with your sensitive pussy. you let your head rest on his shoulder, letting out the sweetest moans he's ever heard. he'd bring you to your release over and over again before eventually pushing you down and ruining you one last time on his cock. link.

you had been misbehaving all day, sending him risky texts and photos while he was at work. the moment he got home he'd waste no time shedding you of your clothes and pounding deep into you, grumbling angrily about how embarrassing it was to walk around sporting a half boner all day. he'd fuck you hard and fast, giving your ass a sharp slap as he did as he pleased. little did he know this was your plan all along, loving how rough he treats you when you misbehave. link.

tsk tsk, another day of you being naughty, causing san to bend you over and spank you back into place with one hand while the other fucks you into oblivion. each time you'd near your peak, he'd go harder, only to pull away at the last moment, causing you to cry and beg for release. but what good is a punishment if you don't learn your place? link.

san loves having you, his pretty kitty, rub your pussy along his muscular thigh, observing how you whine and twitch each time he flexes the muscle. he'd notice how tired you get, as he settles his hands on your hips, guiding you softly on his thigh and pushing you further towards your high. link.

san who loves holding you down by your hips as he makes out with your pussy. he'd take his time running his tongue up and down your folds before circling your clit, holding you firmly on the mattress to prevent you from moving. hearing your whines and soft moans only spurs him on, pushing his face deeper into your cunt and eventually getting lost in the way you taste. link.

you mentioned in passing once on how nice it would be to have a kid with san one day, and ever since then he'd push you into a mating press each time you'd have sex, fucking his seed deep into your womb, secretly hoping it'll take. link

bonus:

san loved coming on your back, watching as it dripped down your spine and ass; you were such a gorgeous canvas, and loves painting on it. link.

the hands are so san..... i need him desperately. link.

© 2024 Yun-Fangz All Rights Reserved.

[baellaggio]

Ashara Dayne in His Mercy Burns

This GORGEOUS art is by the wonderful @amaati. I’ve been holding onto it for a while and am excited to share it!!

Here’s a little snippet of my latest chapter, Daenerys V.

In her dream, she found Madam Lyria, mask shedded and bloodied upon pale stone, Ashara Dayne sobbing with the blood of her womb, in a dress as beautiful as twilight.“Mama!” she called. “Muna!” But the woman ignored her, hands clasped upon her breast, nails slick with a babe’s life as crimson as the sky above the Doom.

[pushingboi]

The mid afternoon sunlight filters through the window of our bedroom. I keep my eyes shut as I awaken, drinking up every last second of our siesta while I can.

You wake up as I stir, and watch through sleepy half-lidded eyes as I roll over my gravid belly to lay on my back and stretch, taking a deep breath and sighing contentedly.

I kick the blankets down the bed and curiously peel my shirt back over my bump. Inside I feel the lively baby squirm and kick, roiling about as if getting more frustrated about their own inability to stretch out. You reach out and snuggle into me, placing a hand on my belly, and I meet you with a sweet kiss.

I smile and place my hands beside yours, immersing myself in feeling the life roiling inside my womb, nestled safe and warm within my belly.

The baby chills out and stills for a moment, and just then my womb tweaks obviously, startling you awake. "Oh shit, was that a contraction?" You ask.

"Noooo..? Maybe..?" I play puzzled. "Maybe it's just Braxton-hicks?"

I can't fool you and we both know it. You jump up worriedly. "How long have you been having them? Did they just start? How strong are they? That one felt pretty strong.. Are you going into labour? Or already in labour? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Okay, calm down, calm down." I reassure. "If you want an answer you have to give me a chance to respond." I sigh.

"I've been having contractions for a few hours. They're getting stronger but I don't know how close I am. I'm still fine. They hurt, like, a lot. But not bad enough that I can't nap, right?"

"Shit; we've gotta get you to the hospital!"

"Fuck no. We talked about this already, love, and you don't get to decide to change your mind. No way in hell I'm going to a hospital. I don't need some stranger tying me up and prodding me while I'm trying to have your baby; you can do that just as well yourself, can't you?" I tease.

-

The evening sun shines in through the window of our bedroom. A cool breeze flows through the open screen and over my bare skin, the pleasant sensation a welcome distraction from the pain.

You rub my lower back tenderly as you watch over my labour. I've long since shed my shirt and pants, rejecting the hot and restricting fabric to let the rays of sun bathe my pale skin.

I arch my back as a contraction strikes. I lean into you breathlessly, and let out a very long groan as the ache tears through my body. Halfway though I pant to catch my breath, and then groan again. The contractions are getting longer, and harder, and faster, as they begin to fall into a rhythm, the percussive march that heralds forth the birth.

"Fuck.." I pant. "Fuck, it's so much. I can't.."

You run your fingers through my long hair as you soothe me gently. "You're doing fine. You're almost through this part, and soon you'll be pushing out my baby." I smile a little. You continue teasing. "Yeah? You like the sound of that, don't you? There's only one thing you love more than being this heavy and swollen with my babies; and that's getting to birth them out."

I tremble a little, for some motley reason of anticipation, pain, excitement and exhaustion. Just as the thought crosses my mind that I'm due for another contraction, it rolls in like a slow, long tide, enveloping my senses in the intensity of the pressure and- "Ah! Ah, oh god, oh fuck..! It's coming! Th-the baby's coming!"

I pinch my eyes shut and try not to howl with the brilliant pain. You move beside me and go to feel for my dilation. To your surprise, you meet the head already eagerly descending into my birth canal, waters intact.

"You're right, love, it's time for you to give birth. Are you ready to push?"

"Nnnnoo I'm not! It's- oh god, it's- nnn.. yes! Yes, yes, I'm puuuushinng..!"

"Good boy! Come on, the contraction's still coming. Push!"

It doesn't take much convincing. The urge overtakes me and I bear down, holding my breath and channeling the pressure downwards through my abdomen.

I break and take but a second to breathe before continuing. My face scrunches and my belly tenses, all hands on deck as I toil.

I gasp for air, winded from the effort. "Breathe, breathe, love. Take your time, your body knows what to do."

I lay back and stare at the ceiling, slowing my breathing, and rest, as the contraction has subsided, taking with it the excitement and urge to push. "I hope it's not to big.. I hope it's not stuck.."

"What? I thought you liked it that way. Makes it more interesting, doesn't it?" You wink.

I want so badly to be upset with you, I want so badly not to find that funny, but try as I might to deny it I feel the humour lift some weight from my body and something like a smile tease at the corner of my mouth.

"Is it crowning yet?" I ask.

"You can feel for yourself if you want. But no, not yet. You've still got a ways to go so conserve your strength."

I nod. I lay still for a few more moments and gather my strength. Just as the contraction begins I haul myself upwards into a kneeling position.

I take a few deep breaths and lean forward. "Get ready and push, love!" I steady myself. "Push!"

As I push I feel the difference with the change of position. Gravity starts to do its share, and while it doesn't do much for opening my pelvis, I can feel the movement nonetheless.

I feel the rhythm, finally, as it starts to set in. I rock back and forth and breathe and push, losing myself in the cycle - breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push.

The head inches downwards, boring its way through my flesh. As it comes closer and closer to the sensitive opening it feels different, more. It really feels like the erupting force threatens to split me open. I barely notice that as I've pushed I've leaned forward slowly until it's easier to make myself comfortable on all fours.

It's here, watching me strain and sweat, that you realize just how helpless you are. You shuffle around me to get a better look.

I grasp at the sheets, the bed, at my belly, at you, desperate and writhing beneath the intensity. I pant and pant and puuuush, puuuush, PUUSH!

My pussy begins to part as the head encroaches upon it. The intact sac glistens as it appears between my legs. Face into the bed my moans are muffled. You rub my back and comfort me in vain; it's all up to me now to give birth to your baby.

With the next contraction my body tenses. My legs tremble, my breath wavers and I sob through the pain. The sobs curl into a determined wail as i bear down, pressure rippling through my belly and hips. The head continues to squeeze through, stretching into sight bit by bit.

"Here it comes, love. I can see it. Don't stop pushing."

I obey, choking my breath through another contraction. I heave, and push, the head moving so slowly towards the world, gripped firmly within my birth canal.

The contraction lulls, and so does my urge to push, and I'm left with nothing but the awareness of the huge baby's position in my pelvis, filling the space between my hips like nothing I've ever felt. I rock my hips side to side, forward and back, savouring the sweet stretch and the bitter pain threatening to tear down my consciousness.

You look on with pride and.. oh such lust. You can't deny how much it turns you on to see me like this, bent over and stretched open before you, labouring and toiling while I give birth to your baby. The waistband of your pants is all there is between you and ecstasy but you resist thre urge to touch yourself.

The rhythm returns and I whine as I lean into the contraction.

"C'mon baby, push it out for me. Push it out!"

"NNnnnggghh.. I'm... pushing... as hard as I can.."

The head begins to crown, my bulging slit parting around it. As I release the pressure and catch my breath it retreats back inside. "Hah.. hah.. ha.. aaa-hhhhhnnnnnnnnngh...!"

I bear down with all my strength, working through the stinging crown. The supple skin of my cunt grows thin and tight as it clings to the slowly protruding head of our baby.

"It's co-ming! Oh fuck, it's coming out!" I cry.

You've got a pretty sweet view while I push for you. My ass in the air, bearing down while your new baby squeezes into view between my legs.

I sink down into the bed and scream into the pillow, the unquenchable burning of the crown battling the insurgent urge to push. My poor tight, engorged little pussy bulges all around the head.

"It's stretching me open… Oh my god, the head.."

I breathe and pant in desperation, the intensity refusing to quell. All I can think and feel is the baby trying to stretch through my abused opening. "It's burning. It's burning. It's so hard.. I can't.. I have to.. I.."

"You're doing so good babe. Feel my baby stretch open the hole I fucked it into. Breathe and let it open you up."

"I have to push so bad. I have to push this baby out.." I start bearing down again one push at a time. "Fuck, it's so hard! I'm trying so hard to give birth but it won't- GAAAAH!" Suddenly the sac breaks inside me, and a little gush of amniotic fluid trickles forth, but the big head stops the rest of the flow like a stuck cork. "AGHHHHHHHHHHH!" The new change in pressure shifts the baby and my vagina finally starts to span around the bulge. "That's it, babe! Push, pushhh, puuuuush!"

"Nnnngghhh... p.. puuuuuuuush...." I groan. I lean my hips back and shift my knees, opening up for the baby to come out. "puuuuuuuuush...!"

"puush... puuuuush...." I keep narrating myself. The head starts to crown fully, stretching all the way. "I'm giving birth to it.. the head is almost out of me.."

"One big push! Cmon, birth it!"

I hold my breath and force everything into one big push. "Ghhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaa-aaaah-AHHHHHHH! Ahhh ohhhhh, the head..! ahhhh..... ahhhhh..."

All at once the head shears out between my legs, accompanied by a cascade of fluid which gushes onto the bed below me, carrying the head to dangle out of my birth canal.

"Oh my god, it's coming! My baby is- nnnnhh puuuuuuuushh... puuuush..." The urgency is still there, it's not out yet as I feel the whole body stretch my vagina. "I'm fucking pushing..."

The body slides through ever so slowly, from the shoulders all the way to the hips, in one long push, and then suddenly, finally, the legs slip all the way out from inside me and the gurgling baby falls onto the bed between my legs.

"There's my baby, you did it babe! You did such a good job giving birth to it!"

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

Day 8: Breeding

♤♡-Pairs: Zhongli x Fem!reader

☆☆-Warnings: mentions of cum, tummy bulge, mating press, messy, mentions of getting reader pregnant, horny Zhongli, enjoy (;

When you came home from your shift this evening, you hadn't thought you'd come face to face with your husband. Working at the Funeral Parlor, he usually came home at later hours. But instead you found him sat on the couch, legs crossed as he held a cup of tea in his hand. And he only simply nodded when you greeted him.

Maybe it'd been a long day.

He would talk to you when he was ready, so you made your way into the kitchen. Rolling up your sleeves as you set to wash your hands, prepared to start dinner. Little did you know, that dinner would be long forgotten. You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and a nose brush against the skin of your neck. "I don't need dinner tonight. I only want you and that sweet pussy of yours."

Your hand immediately paused, your eyes widening. Zhongli's tone was different...deeper, more primal. And you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together, out of habit. He chuckled deep in his throat, pressing his lips to your neck. "Meet me in our room, undressed." You swallowed thickly before nodding, he gave you one more kiss before slipping his hands from around you.

You had never moved so fast in your life, quickly drying your hands, you made your way to the shared bedroom. Quickly shedding your clothes, lying down on the silk of the sheets. Heavy footsteps made their way up the stairs shortly after. You weren't sure why he made you come up first or why you didn't enter together. But that wasn't important. The door opened, his large frame entering the room. His eyes never left your form as he undressed himself. Eyes full of lust and want, they seemed almost...darker.

Soon, he was just as bare as you, knees settling on the mattress. Arms caging you in as he stared you down. "This is a rare occurrence and I think it's time. I'm going to pump this tummy of yours full of my cum." His words tapered off as he ran a hand across your stomach. "You'll be so full, there's no chance that you won't be bearing my children. Do you understand?" Heat pooled in your stomach at his words, you nodded unable to say anything. He smiled, were his...teeth sharper? And was that..

His cock, it had grown in size, both length and girth. He was already big to begin with, thick veins running along his shaft. Would you even be able to take that..? He answered your question by properly preparing you first. Sliding his fingers in his mouth before slipping them into your heat. Pumping them in and out, adding more to make sure you were stretched properly. Already, tears welled in your eyes from the pleasure. "You are going to look radiant swollen with my children."

Once Zhongli was sure you were prepped enough, both hands grabbed at your thighs. Pressing them up until you were practically folded in half. The length of his cock rubbed sweetly against your leaking sex. And he didn't waste anytime, he fed himself into you until there was a small bulge in your stomach. He'd reached your womb.

You whined, still unable to speak and you had a feeling that would be the case for the rest of the night. Looking down, you could see him inside you. He watched your face, watching for any discomfort before pulling back, thrusting back into you. Setting a pace that made the bed shake and smack against the wall. The sound of slapping skin echoed throughout the whole room. He groaned, deep and guttural as he pounded into you.

"Gonna fill you up nice, sweetheart. You'll be leaking my cum." His hips snapped forward, your breasts shook from the power. Your thighs shivered and cramped from the position but it was so delicious you couldn't be bothered to complain. All you could do was grip tight to the sheets and sob. Your breath catching in your throat as he used you like he wanted.

A mess was being made, you knew this for a fact. Your ankles groaned from the tight grip he had on them, keeping them in place above your head. He slid in and out, over and over again until finally his hips stilled. Spilling his load inside your warm insides, but he didn't stop there. Almost immediately, he picked back up. The sound almost obscene with how wet it sounded. A mixture of your arousal and his cum, coating your thighs and pussy.

"Need to fill you up more, I need you leaking."

You sobbed openly as he did just as he promised. That night, he had cum so much inside you that when he finally pulled out. It immediately gushed, leaking on the sheets and all the way back to your ass. That wouldn't do, he'd have to keep his baby plugged up.

Safe to say, you slept with his cock still inside you that night.

Masterlist

Prev. ☆ Next.

[fishfooddude]

Before the Policy

Prequel to the No Phone Policy universe

MDNI 18+ (blame Olive and Capri for my intense love of breeding kink Carmy....)

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 4

“This is the month Carm. I feel it in my womb.” you teased as you sat on the edge of the tub. You fidgeted with your engagement ring as he got ready for work. He chuckled as he applied gel to his hair, quickly brushing it back. Maybe it was because you’d been ovulating, but his biceps looked delicious, wrapped in his overly tight white t-shirt that evening.

“Well, if it comes back negative, I’ll just keep fuckin’ ya until I get you pregnant.” he joked as he put his brush back in its designated spot on the bathroom counter before moving to sit next to you on the edge of the tub. You rolled your eyes, “Whatever did I do to get such a considerate husband?” 

“You coulda ghosted me, baby.” Carmy laughed as he threw an arm around your shoulders. “What if it comes back positive?” you asked in a soft, nervous voice, “Well, I like the name Bonnie for a girl, and whatever Van Halen member name is left if it’s a boy… and I’ll still fuck ya raw.” Carmy teased as he kissed your cheek. You giggled and wrapped an arm around his waist as you leaned against his body.

“I love you, Carmen.”

“I love you more, baby… we gonna have one?” Carmy asked as he nuzzled his face into your hair. You reached for the pregnancy test sitting on the toilet tank. A frown formed when you saw the negative result staring back at you.

“Damn it…” you trailed off as Carmy kissed your head. “It’s okay, baby. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“I know. I just wish it would happen now.”

~

It was late when Carmy had returned home from the restaurant. David had been on his ass from the moment he walked into the moment he left. His back ached. His anxiety was off the charts. He’d noticed sporadic text messages from his family back in Chicago but ignored them. Carmy just wanted to hold you and get some sleep. After shedding his jacket and shoes, he walked back to your bedroom.

You were asleep in one of his T-shirts. Carmy watched you roll on your side; the blanket that had been covering your lower half shifted to reveal the voluptuous orbs of your ass, only a thin pair of panties concealing its glory. Carmy felt his cock twitch in his pants. As exhausted as he was, the visceral reaction to the sight before him woke him up.

Carmy pulled his shirt off and threw it in the hamster before struggling with his belt buckle. When he’d managed to get his pants off, he got into hed and attached himself to you. As he gripped your hips, he nuzzled his face into your neck and took in a whiff of your vanilla brown sugar body wash. A soft groan escaped his throat as he brought your hips closer to his pelvis. The movement had been enough to wake you.

“Hey you.” you purred sleepily as Carmy’s hands pushed their way up under the shirt you’d worn to bed. “Hi baby,” he mumbled as he nipped at the sensitive skin under your ear. You giggled as you shifted your hips against Carmy’s crotch, eliciting a strained whimper, “I need you, baby- lay on your back.” he commanded before removing his hands from your body and hurrying back to allow you to roll over. 

Carmy pushed your thighs apart and wedged himself between them. His eyes were dark with lust as he pushed your shirt up, exposing your chest to him. “So fuckin’ sexy…” he growled before leaning in to kiss you. Your hands tangled in the greasy curls at the nape of his neck as your lips melded together. Carmy ground his hips against you, desperate to alleviate himself. You let your hands trail down Carmy’s toned back as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. The taste of tobacco and spearmint flooded your tastebuds.

“Want me to fuck you baby?” Carmy teased as he ran his tip through your glistening folds. You bit your lip as you nodded furiously. “Fuck me, Carmen,” you whined as he slipped inside of you. A loud, wanton moan erupted from your chest as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate the girth of his cock. “I love the way you say my name.” Carmy groaned as he slowly started thrusting his hips, “Keep sayin’ it, baby.” 

As your orgasm approached, you let your head fall back into the pillows as you squeezed your eyes closed to focus on the knot tightening in your stomach. Carmy clicked his tongue as he brought a hand to your chin. Using his thumb, he pushed your chin down. “Look at me while I fuck you, baby. I wanna see the look on your face while I knock you up.” 

~

“Carm? You’re home- hey, what's wrong, baby?” your surprised smile fell when you saw the look on his face. He shook his head before bringing his hands to rub his eyes as he took a breath, “Uh Mikey- he uh- he killed himself.” 

“What?”

“Yea, he uh- he shot himself…”

“Carmen, baby, are you okay?” 

“No, I’m really fuckin’ not.” Carmy laughed as tears started flooding his eyes. You opened your arms to him, and he closed the distance between you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you as close as humanly possible. You wrapped your arms around his neck after he buried his face into your neck. 

“Let it out, baby. I’m here. I’m right here.” you reassured as you felt him trembling. “It’s okay, baby. I’m right here…” you cooed, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

A few weeks later, Carmy found out that The Beef had been left to him. The funeral had come and gone. Natalie was calling you daily, trying to get a hold of Carmy, and now you found yourself sitting in the bathroom staring down at a positive pregnancy test. “Well… this’ll be interesting.” you chuckled as you threw the test in the garbage can. “How the hell are we gonna Daddy about this? He’s… goin through it…” you wondered, putting a hand on what you’d thought was just regular bloating.

Carmy was tense. He’d lost more than just a brother—Mikey was his best friend and one of the closest things to a father he’d ever had. Carmy was staring at his phone that evening. He inched toward the edge of the couch, awaiting a call back from his boss. You walked into the living room and went unnoticed by your husband. You slowly inched forward and watched as Carmy continually refreshed his phone. “Carmen? You comin’ to bed?” you asked, breaking the silence that had filled the room. He looked up at you and nodded, “Sorry, I’m just waitin’ for David to text me back…”

You offered him a weak smile before sitting beside him on the couch. You wrapped an arm around Carmy’s bicep before resting your head on his shoulder. “Baby, you should go to bed without me- he’s makin’ me wait… fuckin’ prick.” Carmy sighed as he ran his thumb along your jawline. “I’ll stay. We can’t sleep without you.” you whispered, hoping Carmy would pick up on the subtle ‘we’. 

Carmy hummed, acknowledging what you’d said before realizing what you’d said. “We? You’re not- are you- you -you’re pregnant?” he stammered as he really thought about what you’d said. You giggled, “You knocked me up, Berzatto…”

“Baby…” Carmy trailed off before pulling his arm out of your loosening grip, causing him to drop his phone. He brought his hands to your cheeks and brought your chin up, “You’re pregnant?” 

You nodded, hoping this was the right time to tell him. Carmy dropped his hands to your waist before falling back against the couch, taking you with him. You giggled as Carmy squeezed you, “Holy shit- it’s finally happening.” he sputtered as you swung a leg over his hips. He let go of you, and you sat up on his hips. “You’re pregnant… holy shit.” Carmy beamed. You bit your lip and slowly nodded before bringing one of his hands to your stomach.

“Holy shit… I can sell The Beef-” 

“No, you’re not selling The Beef Carmen. We’re gonna move to Chicago, you’re gonna follow your dream, I’ll do my thing, and we’ll raise the kid there.” you cut him off. Carmy frowned, “What about your family?”

You shrugged at his concern, “Pam, Mason, and the boys are already in Illinois. Mars is- well, Mars… she’ll be around. And my Dad doesn’t care. He’ll find his way over to his grandbaby.” 

Carmy was quiet as he took in what you said. He spread his fingers against your stomach and softly smiled. “Our little cub…”

~

“Hey, Mammas, you’re lookin’ good.” Tina greeted as you walked into the kitchen that afternoon. You smiled, “Hey, T. Any idea where my husband is?”

“Back alley- can I?” she smiled, motioning to your bump. You nodded and opened your jacket to give her better access to your ever-growing bump. “How much longer?” Tina asked as she felt your stomach.

“Four more months.”

“I loved bein’ pregnant. You feelin’ okay? Been usin’ that oil?” 

You smiled, “Carm helps every night.”

Tina smiled as she removed her hands, “You got a good one, girl.”

“I really do,” you responded before maneuvering through the kitchen to the back alley. 

Carmy ashed his cigarette when he saw you walking out into the ally. “Hey, beautiful.” he greeted as you glared at him. “I thought you quit.” you scolded as you went to kiss his cheek. Carmy chuckled, “I’m workin’ on it… how are my girls?” his hands immediately going to your stomach.

“Good. She’s letting me sleep. Took a killer nap between clients.” you answered as you placed your hand on his, lacing your fingers in his, “How’s all this goin’?”

Carmy sighed, “Friends and Family is on the calendar… we’ll see what happens.”

“You’re killin’ it, Berzatto.” 

“I’m tryin’ for her.” Carmy grinned before leaning in to kiss your forehead, “I gotta go back inside. Wanna hang out in the office? I’ll drive you home when I’m done here.”

~

“Hey Richie, is Carmy gonna come out, or can I go back and say hi?” you asked, grabbing one of Richie’s sleeves as he power-walked past you. He stumbled slightly and shook his head. “Not right now, dollface, but I’ll grab you in a bit.” He grinned and nodded in your sister’s direction. He hurried back to the kitchen, and you shifted in your seat.

“Something is up back there,” Mars mumbled into her wine glass as she took a sip. You rolled your eyes, “Mars. Please. You’re my baby sister, and I love you, but please don’t make me worry.” 

She put her hands up defensively after placing her glass back on the table, “I’m just reporting on the vibe, Y/N. Somethin feels off…” 

You rolled your eyes again, and before you could say anything, a waiter approached the table and placed plates in front of you and Mars. “Thank you.” you smiled in his direction as Mars craned her neck to look past your shoulder. 

“The pregnant blonde is your sister-in-law, Natalie, right?” she asked when she noticed a worried expression on her face. Natalie got up quickly and walked back toward the kitchen door; you looked over your shoulder and saw Pete sitting alone, “That’s her husband, Pete. Where’d Nat go?” you wondered aloud. Mars bit her tongue and just shrugged, “I saw her walking toward the bathroom, I guess.” 

“Hi, uh- Mrs. Berzatto-” Fak awkwardly started as he stood at your and Mar’s table. “Neil, you can just call me Y/N.” you cut him off with a laugh at the formality of ‘Mrs.Berzatto’. Fak grinned and nodded before explaining that Carmy was locked in the walk-in. “I’m sorry, what?!” you jumped into action. 

You hurried to the kitchen. Tina met you a few feet before you got to the fridge to reassure you that Carmy was okay and they’d called the locksmith. “Tell her to sit down- I’m okay,” Carmy called from inside the fridge. Your face scrunched in concern as you pushed Tina to the side softly.

“Carm? Are you alive?” you jokily asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Go eat dinner, baby- I don’t want you to over-exert yourself.” Carmy protested as he slid down the fridge door to sit on the floor. You shook your head with a laugh, “Nope. You’re stuck with me. At least until the locksmith gets here.” 

“Fuckin’ fridge guy- I forgot to call im back. We were putting together that fuckin’ crib, I got distracted by the baby stuff-” Carmy rasped absentmindedly before you cut him off, “I’m sorry, maybe I misheard you. Did you just call our daughter a distraction?” you huffed, hoping you’d misheard him.

“No-no-no baby-” Carmy fretted as he pushed himself up from the floor. He turned and attempted to push the door open again, now more determined to get out of the fridge. “You know what, Carmen, you were right. I shouldn't over-exert myself.” you huffed, pushing a fallen lock of hair behind your ear, “Screw you!” 

You were trying to blink away the tears welling in your eyes when you bumped into Richie on your way out of the kitchen. He called after you when he’d noticed you were on the verge of tears; he watched you run out the front of the restaurant before storming back into the kitchen. “Carmy, what the fuck did you say to your wife!” he yelled as he pounded on the door of the walk-in, not caring about the atmosphere of the kitchen or the dining room. “Shut the fuck up, Richie! Get me the fuck out of this fridge!”  Carmy yelled just as loudly; he needed to talk to you before it was too late.

You sighed as you rubbed lotion on your stomach that night. “You’re not a distraction. Daddy didn’t mean it… or at least I hope he didn’t,” you reassured yourself and the baby who insisted on using your kidney as a trampoline. The front door swung open. It banged the wall, startling you. “Well… time to talk to Daddy…”

“Baby!” Carmy yelled as he ran upstairs. You swallowed as you heard his heavy footsteps approach the bedroom door. “Baby—” he coughed as he tried to catch his breath. “Baby, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Our daughter is not a distraction- I was just-” 

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his waist, smearing lotion into his dirty white t-shirt. Carmy hesitated before hugging you back. “If you ever refer to our daughter as anything other than a blessing again. I will beat the shit out of you,” you promised as you snuggled against his chest. Carmy kissed your head before chuckling softly, “There's the girl I married… fuckin’ firecracker.” 

~

“How’s the baby?” Tina asked as she scrubbed the counter adjacent to Carmy. “Good,” he answered unphased as he focused on an oil stain a line cook must have left in the steel. 

“Just good? Is her back feelin’ better? I sent her this article about stretches she can do, but she never responded.” Tina said, trying to get more information out of him. Carmy nodded, “Uh yeah, I think so.” 

Was your back hurting? Why didn’t you tell him about that? Did you say something to him about that? It wasn’t like you to not him about baby stuff. He shook the thought and continued working on the stain. 

It was late when Carmy got home. You were asleep with a romance novel next to you. He grinned and put the book on your bedside table. He smiled when he noticed your shirt had ridden up, exposing the very bottom of your bump. He squatted by the bed and pushed your shirt up a little more to reveal more of your stomach. “Hi, princess. I love you. I can’t wait to meet you… everything I’m doin’ is for you. Daddy’s gonna give you the moon and all the stars in the sky… I promise.” 

Part 5

[dr3amfyr-e]

moon, river - c.s. ( w. 1049 )

꒰ cregan will always defends your daughter’s claim ꒱ — cregan stark x reader

୨ ⎯ period typical misogyny. implied trouble concieving children. reader is written to be very influenced by her environment, and therefor uncertain of herself and her self worth. girl dad cregan. cregan's kind of a medieval feminist. i named your daughter for you, sorry. this is very cregan pov, not many of reader's thoughts. umm maybe not canon cregan but it’s my cregan. uhh dialogue heavy. tbh i don't even know what i was writing here. fem!reader. ⎯ ୧

i advocate for creganwives who don’t want to have ten children.

Cregan wasn’t nearly as physically imposing underneath all of his armour. 

You had observed as much before — watching keenly as he unclasped his cape and slid out of the thick leather armour. It was a sight to behold, the muscles in his shoulders and arms as he fought to disrobe. 

He was much different here, in your shared chambers. Lord Stark shed with his dayware, Cregan stood in his wake. 

You had been married for years, and still, your heart fluttered like an infatuated girl when he loomed over the bed, hair damp from the bath. 

Married for years, with two children, and yet — sprawled across the bed in naught but a thin nightgown, you ogle him as he makes his way to bed. 

He's hard to wrangle; he walks the keep and checks on your daughters, among other mindless tasks, before finally getting into bed every night. It gives him ‘time to think’, and makes you senselessly anticipatory. 

Most nights are the same. He curls into you, head on your chest, to decompress. It's sweet, to see such an intimate side of him.

Tonight, in lieu of the typical mindless drivel that lulled you both to sleep, you had been quiet. Cregan could feel the tension of whatever weighed on your mind, but he had not wished to pry.

You rub aimless little circles against his back before finally speaking, “Are you content with this?”

Cregan looks up, lifting his head from your breastbone. He doesn’t speak for a moment, reading your expression, “Content?” When you don’t reply he continues, “Of course I am content. What has prompted you to ask such?”

He can see the solemn, contemplative expression written across your face; the way you gaze down, as if through him, “It is just…” You hesitate, he keeps firm in his stare, “We have been married years, and I have not given you many children. And, no boys.” 

He doesn't reply, unsure how or what to say. True, it is, that in the years you have been married there have only been two children — both daughters. 

“Do you think,” He begins, sitting up more, “That I am discontent because you have not given me a son?” 

Silence hangs heavy in the room. You look guilty; he cannot tell what it is you feel guilty for, but he wishes you did not feel guilty at all. 

Cregan says your name once, his voice low and soft. When you meet his eyes he can sense the resignation — you wish you had not brought this up.

“I just worry, that is all,” You reply, quietly.

His expression stays set. There is solace in knowing him well enough to read his microexpressions; he isn’t brooding, he is concerned. 

He speaks, “What is it that you worry about – my discontentment?”

“Perhaps I have not performed by duty,” You shrug, as if to pass the comment off as nonchalant. Maybe it is; ladies raised to believe their self-worth lies in their good stock and ability to breed and please can talk about such matters with a level of insouciance. 

Frustration blooms in the space between his lungs. He understands the way polite society worms into young women’s brains, and how hard it is to remove that sickness once it's taken root. Still — you surely must know that your worth does not lie within your womb, he thinks.

“Your duty?” He asks, tone firmer now, “And what duty is that? To be bred like a milking cow?” 

The abruptness and near vulgarity of his words are enough to leave you taken aback, blinking at him. Cregan was certainly not one for eloquent metaphors. 

When you seem not to have a response, he begins to feel bad. This isn’t your fault. You were raised to think like this.

“I have not given you an heir,” You’re quiet, almost embarrassed. 

“You have,” He counters. 

“You have no son,” 

“I have Lyanna,” 

A log in the fireplace shifts and crackles as you sit in silence; a scullery maid shuffles by in the hallway. 

He watches you gather your composure before you speak, “And you do not mind?” You sound unsure, he hates it. 

Cregan reaches, sliding his fingers under your jaw to make you look at him fully, “Tell me — if we should have a son, would you be content to strip Lyanna of her birthright?” 

The question feels harsh. He watches guarded confusion swirl into your eyes.

Of course, you would not wish for your daughter to have her title taken from her. But so many others, men in Cregan’s council, mocked the idea. They rued Lyanna’s power, the status she already held above them as a girl of all but five. So it would be no shock if someone insisted she be stripped of her title as heir to Winterfell, and it was frightening. Frightening to imagine someone stealing your daughter’s future and freedom. 

“If it is what you wished,” You answer, resignation thinly veiled. 

“I asked you a question,” He’s firm but gentle. 

You gape for a moment, before answering, “No, never. I could not imagine doing that to her.” 

“And do you think I would?” 

“No,” 

He nods, sliding his hand up to cradle your face. You look ashamed, he tries to soothe it away with his thumb over your cheekbone. 

“Do you think you’ve disappointed me, pet?” He doesn’t wish to subject you to the humiliation of answering such a vulnerable question, so he continues, “You need not worry so much. I do not need a boy; I am more than pleased with things just how they are,” He strokes his thumb slowly, “Do not agonize over something so trivial.” 

He catches the tear that rolls down your cheek.

When you speak your voice is quiet, “You are so good,” And then, “Many lords do not care much for their daughters.”

The thought makes his chest burn; to not care for his daughters? Unthinkable, “Do not praise me for loving my children. Those girls are my world, as are you.” He feels lighter when he sees the edge of your mouth tick up, so he speaks again, “I care not that I have daughters in place of sons — I have, and for that I am lucky.”

He has and he is lucky.

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI Fem!Readerperiod sex, blood and cum obvdon't read if it makes you feel icky

"C'mere, love." Simon beckons softly and you step out of the bathroom.

His hands fall on your sides and gently wrap around you.

He lifts you up and carefully sets you down on the towel which he laid out on the bed.

He sits on the edge of the bed and softly caresses your thighs, tracing higher and placing his palm over your abdomen, tenderly kneading the soft flesh.

You hum contently at the warm sensation.

"Does it hurt, love?" he asks, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yea. A bit. Fucking cramps." you pout.

"I'm sorry, dove." he coos while softly massaging your belly to soothe your pain.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he questions to make sure, always so considerate and careful with you.

"Yes. I'm sure, Si." you respond eagerly, feeling a surge of need and desperation inside.

"Come on. Pleassseee!" you plead, making cute grabby hands at him.

"You're adorable." he chuckles.

He hovers above you and carefully spreads your legs.

You let out a shaky sigh as the cool air touches your sensitive pussy, laid completely bare and vulnerable before him.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, dove." he croons, leaning in to kiss your lips lovingly.

He strokes his leaking cock a few times and lines himself up at your entrance.

You whimper at the slight brush of his bulging tip against your folds and hook your legs tightly around his waist.

He pulls away ever so slightly, "Ready, love?" he asks while looking fondly into your gorgeous eyes which are filled with love and desire.

You nod and he slips the tip through your labia with ease, your slick and blood acting as lube.

He gently pushes inside, watching your reactions.

He halts as your mouth hangs open with a quiet gasp at the stretch.

"It’s ok. You can go on." you reassure him.

He slowly pushes deeper and deeper, wary of your fragile state.

You gasp while your tight spongy walls get stretched out so wide by his thick cock.

His chest rumbles with a deep groan as he bottoms out inside you.

"You ok?" he murmurs.

"Yeah. Just give me a moment." you breathe out.

"Take your time, love." he whispers, pecking your lips.

He nuzzles your head and runs his fingers through your hair, placing soft kisses on your lips, face and neck while you adjust to his size.

A few minutes pass.

"Ok. You can move now." you give him the green light and he obliges.

His thrusts are gentle and languid, his touch so tender and loving.

He takes such good care of your delicate aching body, it makes your heart flutter with so much love, it's almost overwhelming.

He holds your hand and intertwines your fingers together as he tenderly makes love to you.

You shed silent tears as your heart melts for him, fully immersed in his warmth.

He kisses your tears away while whispering 'I love you' over and over again.

And his voice is muffled by your skin as he trails sloppy open-mouthed kisses on your body.

And soon, the euphoric stream of your orgasm floods through your body.

Your back arches and your legs tremble as you let out broken sobs, his name falling from your lips as you reach your peak.

He spills thick ropes of his cum inside your womb while panting and grunting heavily in your ear.

The white of both your juices mix with the crimson blood and a pretty pink seeps out of your sensitive swollen cunt.

"I love you." he rasps out, still out of breath, lips brushing against yours.

"I love you too, Si." you mumble, lost in the dizzying post-climactic sensation.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥