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justmeinadaze · 1 day

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Take It Out On Me Part 28 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I bare you this final piece. I'm more than happy to revisit from time to time. Im gonna miss these weirdos.

Warnings: Daddy Steve/ Sir Eddie and Plus Size Fem Sub Y/N, SMUT, spanking, smacking, hair pulling, light choking, and everything in between, FLUFF, we meet Molly <3, boys are good dads and hubbys, flashbacks of their relationship, ANGST, within the flashbacks is the fight with Steve's dad where he talks negatively about Y/N appearance as well as the fight from one of the other chapters when you disappeared. Guys do get a bit jealous and I think that's it.

Word Count: 6831

Full Series here/ Donate to me :)

“Edward? It’s a school night, son. Go to sleep.”, Wayne lightly scolded when he noticed his nephew was still awake.

“Yeah, I’m almost done here.” When his uncle’s eyes scanned your blouse in his hands, Eddie chuckled. “It’s not for me. This girl I met…something happened so I offered to fix her shirt. The buttons are a little off but I think I got it.”

“Hm. This girl just a friend or…”

The metalhead smiled softly as he continued to focus on his task.

“I don’t know to be honest. She’s very timid but there’s something about her. She seems strong but she hides it. I don’t get that especially since she’s the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Alright now. Watch your mouth.”, Wayne laughs. “Does this ‘beautiful fucking woman’ have a name?”

Eddie beams as he folds your shirt and places it on his backpack.

“Y/N.”

***

“Daddy…Daddy…Fuck…Sir…EDWARD AND STEVEN!”

Both boy’s shoot up in bed as you practically scream their names with a tight wince.

“I’m up! We’re up! What’s wrong, baby?”, Eddie asks as he pets your head.

“I think it’s time.”

“Shit, shit, shit. Ok, um, let’s…”, Steve stutters as he stumbles out of bed and begins searching for things he knows you’ll need. The metalhead’s eyes meet your pained ones with soft smile before kissing your forehead and getting up to help his friend get everything together.

***

Eddie continued to run his fingers through your hair as you winced in your sleep. It had been almost 5 hours since Molly was born and the three of you only saw her that one time before they whisked her away to make sure she was alright and get her clean.

The cut they made for the c-section hurt but the medication was slightly helping. Neither boy had slept yet, keeping a constant eye on you.

“I hate that she’s in pain, man.”

“I know. I’m glad they’re both alright though. When Molly cried I was so relieved.”, Steve mumbled in a gravelly tone as his heavy eyes turned towards his friend. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah and really tiny. I don’t know why I thought she’d be bigger.”

“She felt bigger.”, you teased, exhausted as your eyes flutter open and meet the metalhead’s. “Have they brought her back? Is she alright?”

“No, sweetheart, not yet. How are you feeling?”

“Heavy. I didn’t think I’d feel this worn out.”

“Your mom is on her way and so is Masie. They also swabbed our cheeks for the paternity test so we can fill out her birth certificate.” You nod as you listen to Steve speak, your eyes drooping as you fall asleep again.

A few hours later, you awake to a nurse gently tapping your shoulder.

“Hey there, mama. Sorry to wake you but we thought you might want to meet your new little bundle.”

Your eyes widen in earnest as you push yourself up into a more sitting position and pry your hand from Eddie’s firm grip careful not to jostle him too much so he could continue to sleep.

“She’s doing well and all her vitals look good. She may get hungry in a couple of hours so around then one of the nurses can come in and help you.”, she whispers as she gently places the baby in your arms.

You barely even hear her leave as your eyes take in your sleeping child.

“I hope you know you scared the bajesus out of your dads.”, your murmur with a soft giggle as your finger caresses her cheek. “When the doctor said they needed to cut you out of mommy they panicked and kind of yelled at a nurse. They are protective like that but trust me, Molly, they love you so much. I love you.”, you coo as you kiss her forehead.

A little whine left her lips as she exhaled rousing Steve from where he had been sleeping in a chair by the window. As quietly as possible, he rose to his feet, coming around to your other side and sitting by your legs.

“Is she ok?” You nod with a smile as tears begin to lightly fall down your cheeks. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah. I’m just…happy.”

Grinning, he reaches over to dry your eyes causing Eddie to jump awake and search for your hand that was no longer in his grasp. When he realized you were holding the baby, he let out a shaky sigh as he got up to sit closer to you.

Tilting her towards them, they both exchanged a nervous glance before the metalhead adjusted himself to take Molly in his arms.

“I’m sorry we called you a boy for like 4 months.”, Eddie chuckled as he rocked her carefully. “She has your nose, Y/N.”

You and Steve both ignored the weight within that one statement. That’s all anyone could say with any certainty; that your daughter at some of your features. If anyone said she had Eddie’s cheeks or Steve’s hair, there would be a 50/50 chance they were wrong.

############

Steve stared at his phone as the line went dead in the middle of Eddie’s sentence.

“STEVEN HARRINGTON!”

“Fuck.”, the boy breathed out anxiously as he mentally prepared for whatever may come and headed down the stairs. “Dad.”

“Don’t you dad me with that tone, Steven. What’s this?”, Bill bellowed as he flashed his son the decline letters he got from different universities. “You promised me you would get your act together and get into school! We had a deal!”

“Bill, please. Calm down.”, his mother pleaded.

“NO! I’ve been calm enough!”, he shouted as he tossed the papers at his son’s chest. “What now, Steven?! What’s the plan because I’m not going to carry you like some pampered spoiled rich kid!”

“I don’t know.”

“What?!”

“I said I don’t know!”, Steve screamed. “All I know is that my girlfriend got into Hawkins U so I’m getting an apartment with her and Eddie.”

“Girlfriend?! What girlfriend?! And don’t even get me started on that Munson freak!!”

“Y/N Y/L/N! She’s been with me over a year and I love her, Dad!”

“Oh my god. I’m not hearing this. Are you purposely trying to upset me, Steven? Dating her is WORSE than not getting into school! She’s poor and disgusting; you’d never be able to bring her to company events. She’s not exactly camera ready!”

“Watch your fucking mouth!”

“EXCUSE ME?!”

“You heard me! She’s perfect and I love her exactly the way she is!”

“You love her, huh? You love your ugly piece of trash and your trailer trash friend? Fine!”

“BILL!”, his mother shouted after him as Steve followed pausing by the stairs. Both watched as his father started tossing his son’s clothes over the banister.

“You can leave now then! Get the fuck out of my house!”, he shouted as he threw everything on Steve’s dresser to the ground.

“ENOUGH!” His mother’s voice finally cut through giving everyone pause. “Bill you need to cool off. Let’s go get some dinner and regroup.”

His father huffed as he walked past his son and grabbed his jacket by the door.

“Clean up this mess.”

As soon as the door slammed, Steve went into his bedroom and his eyes scanned the destruction around him before landing on something that killed him. Picking him the sunglasses you had bought him in New York, a tear left his eye when a lens fell to the floor.

***

Everyone you loved came to visit you and Molly, cooing and murmuring sweet affections that had you smiling as you took everything in.

Wayne walked around the room in circles with her in his arms while both men were sleeping, regaling her with tales of how his nephew was “a little troublemaker” when he was a baby as Molly’s eyes watched his mouth move. Your parents fell in love immediately, your dad holding her finger as he told the boys stories about what you were like as an infant while your mom explained certain things that babies did and what they may need to prepare for. Acting as a surrogate parent to Steve since neither of his own could bother, your mother answered any and all questions he had, amused at the inquires they made not only about Molly but you.

“She’s still in a lot of pain but the doctor says that’s normal. What isn’t normal? Like what should we be on the lookout for?”

“Y/N’s been a bit lethargic to. We read about like postpartum and stuff but want to do whatever we can to make sure she doesn’t have to worry.”, Eddie followed promptly after his friend making your mom giggle softly before answering.

Maze laid beside you in your bed and you leaned on her shoulder while she spoke playfully to her niece.

“Ma’am, you are going to get away with everything with me. We’re going to have sleepovers and watch spooky movies while we drink soda and eat all the unhealthy food. Yeah? You like that idea.”, she laughs when Molly coos.

But as much as you loved your visitors, you enjoyed the quiet moments when you were alone with the three of them more than anything. When both boys thought you were sleeping they would talk out loud to her about anything that came to mind.

“I could stare at you all day, honey. You’re so beautiful just like mommy. You’re going to have the best life, Molly. I promise. Me, Eddie, and Y/N will always be right here. We…we aren’t perfect but you’re never going to go through what we went through.”

The sound of crying jostled you as your eyes opened to see the metalhead hastily get up from his chair and lift the baby from her little bed beside your own. Pretending to go back to sleep, you listen as Eddie comforts her.

“Shhhh. It’s ok, Mol, daddy’s here. Shhhh…we don’t want to wake up mommy.”

Carefully adjusting his daughter, he lays her against his chest as he softly pats her back and gently sings.

“I walked the world for you, babe A thousand miles with you I dried your tears of pain, babe A million times for you.”

“How are we today, Munson-Harrington gang?”, your doctor beams as she comes in with a folder tucked under her arm. “Well, everything with mommy and Molly looks good so you four can head home tomorrow. I also have the paternity test here if you guys are ready for the results.” She pauses to gauge your reactions, Steve petting your head while Eddie rocks the baby in his arms. “Ok, um, per the result of the swab it seems Mr. Harrington here is Molly’s biological father.”

Your eyes immediately flick to the metalhead whose arms slow ever so slightly before grinning widely your way.

“Damn. Molly’s going to make all the kids jealous with her fluffy head of hair.”

That night while the pretty boy slept, Eddie slid in beside you and circled his arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to his side.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”, he murmured with his lips pressed against the top of your head.

“You told me once that you were jealous of Steve because he had more memories of me before we got together—”

“You’re worried I’m heartbroken because Molly isn’t biological mine.” When you nod, he kisses your forehead before moving down to your lips. “Sweetheart, I meant what I said to your family. She’s ours no matter whose genes she has. I love her so much, Y/N, it scares me a bit. I’ve never… I don’t know… I would die for that little girl there.”

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you to, princess.”

##################

Steve’s leg bounced under his desk as he waited for class to start. It had been 2 months since he saw you and he was dying to find you just to get at least a glimpse of your face. He had searched for you in the morning but couldn’t find you within the cafeteria or with the basketball girls.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N, I saw you were in my class this year…”

When he heard your name, his head shot up and he took you in. Fuck, his memory didn’t do you justice. You looked absolutely gorgeous in your skirt and boots that had him wanting you to just sit on his desk so he could constantly run his lips along your thighs while resting his head on your lap.

Eddie skidded into the classroom breaking his concentration.

The metalhead felt time stop when his eyes raked along your body. God, he missed your smell and that cute little nervous smile you got when you were around them. When he noticed you were wearing his jacket, his heart fluttered. It’s not fair that the fabric got to wrap around you for so long when he wasn’t able to.

***

Six months had passed since your daughter was born and you loved every moment of it. Molly was such a happy baby, always smiling and babbling to anyone who would listen.

Steve and Robin were able to find an investor for their non-profit, naming it Molly’s Sanctuary after his little girl. Sometimes he would take her to business related ventures where his friend would always ask for her input.

“Ok Mol, what do you think? Should we look into the little loft downtown or this office space close to your mommy?”

Steve balanced her on his thigh, grinning when she bounced up and down excitedly.

“I was thinking the same thing! Being closer to your mommy means me and your dad can bug her at work and maybe get some of the young people to help out.”, she whispers her last sentence as Molly reaches for her cheeks.

Eddie and Garth worked hard till they had enough money to rent a studio so Corroded Coffin could finally get to work recording their first album. You went with them during their first recording session offering to get them lunch which all the boys appreciated. When you showed up with the food, you caught the man you loved holding his daughter up to the microphone as he spoke to her.

After pushing a button on the soundboard, his soft voice flowed through.

“Yeah, princess? Are you going to be a rockstar to? Go ahead, baby. Sing.” You smiled as she babbled baby talk into the mic and he banged his head to her voice. “Yeah! Look at you. Writing songs already. That’s going to be number one, I bet. I can see it now. ‘And the grammy award for best rock single of all time goes to… Princess Molly! Yay!’”

Before the new school year started, Mr. C advocated for you and the principal agreed to hire you as a teacher. When your parents couldn’t babysit, the guys or Masie watched her for you during the day which you greatly appreciated. The only thing you three hadn’t seemed to be able to figure out again was your sex life.

You could feel the heavy energy under the exhausted one of needing a release. Both men came and went constantly sighing at something new they were worried about.

Truth be told, you needed them to fuck you just as bad. Between work and Molly, you felt stressed and missing the days when they would help you turn your brain off. You didn’t know how to ask for what you needed though. You felt bad especially since you understood how hard they were working to take care of you AND their daughter while accomplishing their own goals. One way or another, though, everything had to come to head but who would be the first to explode?

#################

“There she is. There’s our girl. Tell me where you are, baby. Please.” Eddie’s heart broke as he listened to you sob before the line went dead. “FUCK!”

“I can’t believe she said all that bullshit.”, Steve sighed under his breath as his head continued to hang to his chest. The metalhead growled as he punched his bedroom wall a couple of times before throwing something across the room. “I guess that’s that then.”

“No, no it’s not. I’m not giving up that easy.”

“I’m not giving up, Ed, but you heard her. She wants to spare us or some shit.”

“She’s just saying that because she’s scared. She thinks she’s doing what’s best for us.”

“How is this the best when she’s not fucking here with us?”, Steve grumbled. “Any future without her would fucking suck. May as well become bitter like my father. Where are you going?”, he asked when Eddie grabbed the keys to his van.

“I’m going to go look for her. This is a small town and I’m sure we can find the car she drove off in.”

“You mean the utterly generic station wagon that Masie Collins drives?”

“WELL, WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, STEVEN?!”, he roared as he came chest to chest with his friend who rose to his feet. “I love her! I’m not just going to sit here and wait when I know she’s out there somewhere fucking hurting!”

“I love her to, Eddie! You don’t think this is fucking killing me?! You don’t think I want to kick down every door in Hawkins till I find her, throw her over my shoulder, and bring her home to us?! I want to but I can’t… that’s not how this works. We can’t force her to stay…”

The metalhead sighs as he sits on the bed and his friend does the same.

“I at least feel like we should get a say in it…get our feelings heard…”

“Yeah.”

Their heads swivel towards the phone when it loudly begins to ring and Eddie quickly answers.

“Y/N?”

“No, Masie. She just jumped in the shower. I’m going to give you my address but I think you should wait until tomorrow to come by. She’s a mess and needs a moment to regather her thoughts and I think you both need to as well. Do I make myself clear?”

***

Eddie’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel as he angerly glared at the road ahead of him. Both men seemed annoyed as you left the party you three had attended at Masie’s apartment. You thought it would be a good idea to go since it had been so long since you went out to do something fun without the baby but the boys had been short and moody for most of the evening before suddenly shifting into disgruntled as they grabbed your wrist and guided you to the car.

As soon as you made it home, they barged inside while Steve headed to the kitchen to fill a glass with whisky.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you or are you going to keep pouting all night?”

Eddie chuckled sarcastically as he placed his hand on his hips.

“First off, you can get rid of the fucking attitude and second are YOU going to tell us why you were flirting with that asshole at the party?”

“What asshole?”, you genuinely asked completely confused.

“That tall guy with the beard kept touching your arm and making you giggle like a dumb girl.”, Steve clarified as he leaned against the wall.

“Really? Are you fucking kidding me? What is with you guys?! This is the second time in a year and a half you’ve accused me of something like that.”

“Maybe because you’ve done it before. Or did you forget when you stuck your tongue down Billy Hargrove’s throat.”, Eddie hissed making you roll your eyes at the memory.

“That was almost 7 years ago and I was a senior in high school trying to make you jealous because you both hurt me!”

“Oh so is that why you were flirting just now? To get our attention?”

“NO, STEVE! I was just talking to him. Masie—”

“We deal with bullshit every day. I’m sorry we can’t pamper you like a fucking princess like we used to do before.”

“Pfft, like you do anything at all.”

“Excuse me?”, the metalhead growls as he steps towards you. “Say it again, Y/N, I dare you.”

“We don’t…do anything anymore…it’s been so long since…”

As you spoke, he stepped closer till his face was inches from your own, mesmerizing you with his eyes as they heavily stared into yours. Eddie’s palm shot out and wrapped around your throat shoving you against the hallway wall.

“I see so you forgot who you belong to.”

“NO!”

“No, Ed. Little girl wanted to get our attention remember?”

“Ugh! You’re not listening to me!”

The sound of a palm hitting your cheek echoed through the little area along with your grunt of shock before your head reared back to face them. As that familiar fog clouded your mind, you focused in on their heavy breathing to ground yourself while you stepped into that particular headspace you missed so much.

“I-I-I’m so sorry, Sir. I swear I didn’t forget who owns me and my body. I c-c-could never forget.”, you plead with that high pitched whine that has them groaning as your palms reach up to cling to his neck. “Please…I love you and Daddy so much. I’m sorry.”

As you continued to murmur apologies, Eddie’s forehead fell on yours while he inhaled your smell, listened to your needy tone, and dark eyes scanned your beautiful face.

“You know what, Steve? I don’t think I believe her. Do you?”

“Do I believe that she’s sorry? Yeah but I don’t know if I believe she didn’t forget. It’s been so long since we punished her so I’m not surprised.”

Ringed fingers curled in your hair and yanked you to the couch, pushing your upper half over the arm. After lifting up your skirt, you hummed gently at the feeling of his palm rubbing your panty covered behind. A tiny yelp leaves your lips when they’re abruptly ripped apart and tugged off you leaving you fully exposed.

“Look how wet she is, Harrington? Little whore enjoyed being a bad girl and riling us up, didn’t she?”

“No, no, Sir. I’m a good girl.”

“Bullshit.”, he scolded as his hand came down hard against your bare skin. “But it’s ok, sweetheart. Sluts like you can’t help it, that’s why we need to do things like this from time to time.”

His palm came down a few more times in quick succession causing you to whine as tears fell down your cheeks. You felt the atmosphere shift as Eddie pulled down his pants and balanced on his knees in front of you as he gripped your jaw between his fingers and pressed his tip to your lips.

Steve suddenly spanked you hard and your mouth fell open in a moan, allowing the man in front of you to shove his cock down your throat.

“F-Fuck, that’s it. Flat tongue just like that, baby.”

When the man behind you slid his ring and middle finger into your cunt, a loud mewl rippled through you making Eddie grunt in pleasure.

“Come on, honey. We both know you can take it deeper than that.”, Steve mocked as his free hand pushed your head forward and you gagged around the metalhead’s length.

“Atta girl. Fuck… just shut off your little brain and keep your t-throat open for me.” While he thrust his hips to fuck your face, Steve picked up his own pace inside of you as the sound of your slick filled the room. “Hang on, baby! You can do it!”

Your head was held in place as your throat constricted around him and your eyes squeezed shut until after a few seconds you were released as the coil in your stomach snapped. While you tried to catch your breath, you were abruptly lifted into Eddie’s arms and thrown over his shoulder as he carried you to your bed. After tossing you onto your back, he hastily removes his shirt before lifting your leg over his shoulder, taking ahold of his cock and guiding it into your entrance.

“Oh f-fuck.”, you whimper as his eyes flick up to your pleasure filled features along your face.

As he steadily but firmly pumps into you, your shirt is roughly yanked up as Steve utilizes it to bind your wrists together above your head. Eddie’s palms effortlessly glide up your stomach till he reaches your bra, freeing your tits as throws the material blindly to the side.

“Shit, sweetheart. You feel so fucking good. W-Who’s pussy is this?” When you only responded with repetitive ahs, his palm smacked your cheek before wrapping around your throat. “Answer me, little girl, or else we’ll fill you up without allowing y-you to cum.”

“Mmph… you and…Daddy…fuck, please.”

Dropping your leg, Eddie leaned in till his nose was pressed against your cheek.

“Say…it…corr-ect-ly!”, he growled, slamming his hips into you hard between each syllable.

“I BELONG TO MASTER AND DADDY! Fuck…M’gonna cum.”

Pushing off you, the metalhead pulls out and grips your thighs as he shoves his face between your folds, his long tongue flicking against you like a man possessed. You desperately want to cling to his hair but your wrists are restricted making you mewl as you roll your hips till your orgasm crashes over you like a wave.

Hastily, he slid his length back into you as your pussy continued to quiver tightly around him. With a few more rough thrusts, Eddie warmed your insides as you both groaned at the feeling.

“Fuck…good girl… g-good…girl.”

As soon as his friend rolled exhaustedly out of the way, you were tugged by your ankles to the edge of the bed and manhandled on to your stomach with your legs hanging off the side. Steve grunted in what sounded like annoyance as he grabbed your thigh and forced it back onto the mattress giving him a perfect view of your exposed behind.

After a hard spank, he guided his cock inside of you effortlessly and set a brutal pace that had your face constantly being pushed into the sheets under you. While one hand gripped your skirt around your waist, his other tangled in your hair and pulled.

“Daddy!”

“You like that, baby? Y-y-you—fuck—you like when we’re rough? When we use you?”

“Yes, Daddy, I like it.”

The hair on his chest grazed the skin of your back as he tilted down and rolled his hips hard pushing his cock so deep inside of you, you could swear he was in your stomach.

“What do you like?”

“Ah! I like when you and M-Master are rough with me. I-I like being used by you. Please…”

“Please what, honey?”

“I’m…I’m…feels so good. I’m gonna cum.”

Standing to his full height, Steve spanked you again and took your waist in his large palms, guiding your movements.

“Make yourself cum then.” With his help, you pushed your hips back into his as hard as you could till you felt yourself begin to fall off the ledge and he promptly reached around to massage fast circles on your clit till you came on his length. “Goddamn it. Yes, baby.”

Tightening his grasp, Steve pounded into you till he pulled out and jumped over your body to lift your head as you opened your mouth wide knowing what he wanted. Repetitive grunts left his lips till you felt his seed hit the back of your throat and his breathing stuttered a bit when your tongue crazed the tip to take everything he had to give.

As soon as he collapsed above you and removed your shirt from your wrists, you dragged yourself up till the back of your head was resting on his stomach. When your fingers limply reached to your right, you happily sighed when lips kissed the pads before Eddie scooted to your side and laid his own head against you.

“I don’t know if it matters or needs to be said but that guy I was talking to? Masie met him at work and has a crush on him. She wanted me to talk to him to vet him. Since I have such amazing men picking abilities.”, you smile and both men breathily laugh.

“We knew you weren’t flirting.”

“Doesn’t mean we didn’t get jealous.”, Eddie added as he rolled to his side so he could caress your sweaty cheek. “It’s been a while since we made you giggly like that. The three of us are always kind of on the go now.”

“We need to make some more time for each other.”

“Yeah. As much as I love her, it’s nice to have some alone time away from the baby.”, Steve sighs as he runs his hand through your hair. “We really need this.”

After lightly tapping the metalhead, you began to sit up but are promptly pulled back against the bed.

“Excuse me, princess, but what do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, well, I was going to take a shower.”

“Has it really been that long?”, Eddie asked in a teasing tone that had you blushing.

“No, I just didn’t want to inconvenience you or anything—”

A palm came up from your side and lightly covered your mouth.

“Uh oh. Junior year Y/N is back.”, Steve joked as he readjusted his body and his face hovered above your own. “You are never an inconvenience, honey.”

Silently, you allowed them to do what they did best; take care of you. While Steve collected the clothes that had been scattered and threw them in the hamper nearby, Eddie brought you into the bathroom and guided you under the warm water of the shower.

Kneeling in front of you, his eyes swiftly scanned your body for any marks or bruises that needed attention. You couldn’t help but look down at him with nothing but love as you ran your fingers through his damp hair and along his cheek. He was so intimidating when you first met him. This loud, sarcastic, angry man that had very few friends and held in most if not all of his feelings. Eddie was pretty sure he would either wind up like his uncle in a trailer working a job to pay the bills or his father in and out of jail. Now he was surrounded by so many people that cared about him including his best friend, the woman he loved, and his daughter who made him smile every day.

His lips tenderly kissed along your stomach, grazing your c-section scar they knew you were slightly self-conscious about. Rising to his feet, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“I love you to, crybaby.”

A big grin paints his face when you giggle and his kisses your lips before finishing his task of cleaning you. When you step back into the bedroom, the other man is waiting on the edge of the bed and gestures you to stand between his legs.

Steve had also been one to hold everything in which you later learned was part of the reason he was rough around the edges in school. He always intimidated you differently than Eddie had because of the people he spent time with. Tommy and Carol bullied you constantly and he never said a word. You learned later that he was trying to appease his father who was never around anyway and when he was, Steve could never measure up.

If he had stayed along that path, he most likely would have ended up just like him working at a corporate job, being a dick to his subordinates and family because he hated the life he was living while pretending to be happy. Now he was growing a business with a friend who actually cared about him and wasn’t just trying to suck up to him for popularity or money. Steve had a home, his best friend, you, and a daughter he loved with every fiber of his being.

While you balanced your hands on his shoulders as you stepped into your pajama shorts, you slid them in his hair and hugged his head against your chest.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

His arms circled around you as he tilted up to kiss your lips.

“I love you to, baby.”

When you met them, you a few months shy of a bad break up and just wanted to be left alone. You didn’t anticipate sharing a week in detention at all let alone with the King of Hawkins High and The Freak of the town but they surprised you. They helped you step into a different side of yourself out in the world that very few people got to see and intimately helped you express yourself in a way you thought no one ever would.

You were vulnerable for them and in return they did the same for you.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do when Molly starts eating solid food.”, Eddie announces as he enters the room with the box of leftover pizza you had stored in the fridge. “I mean, I’m pretty feisty about my junk food.”

“Thank you.”, you beam when he opens the lid and you take a slice. “We’ll just have to have enough for everyone, baby.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“Yes, there is.”, Steve chuckles as he grabs the remote and turns on the tv across the room. “What do you guys want to watch? Please for the love of God anything that’s not Scooby Doo.”

“She likes the way Scooby talks.”, you laugh before pointing at the screen. “Oh! Eddie look! It’s Evil Dead.”

“That’s what we want to watch, Stevie.”, the metalhead chuckles and lifts his arm so you can lay your head on his chest by his side.

“I shouldn’t have asked.”, he groans playfully, scooting closer to you as he rests his palm on your hip.

###################

Both men watch you from the back wall of the auditorium obscured by darkness so you couldn’t tell anyone was there. Not that you would notice anyway since you seemed so lost in your own thoughts.

“You said you had some classes with her?”, Eddie whispered to his friend beside him.

“A few over the years. I have two this semester but I’m not sure she’s even realized that.”, Steve murmured back.

“She’s a fascinating girl and extremely beautiful. Why haven’t you made a move?” When the jocks eyes met his, he knows. “You can be a real dick sometimes, dude.”

“I’m King, remember? I have to impress the student body and my father.”

“Hm. People you hate. That’s fun.”

Steve huffs under his breath knowing the metalhead was right. His honey irises follow you as you bend down on your heels and pick up the last of the materials strewn out on the stage floor.

“I hate myself for it…if it’s any consolation. I see her with her friends laughing and I wish I had to courage to be the reason. Every time I even think about talking to her, I panic because I know she’ll never care about me like that, not after everything I’ve done.”

“I wish I had seen her around. I probably would have made a fool of myself though…”, Eddie sighs. “Maybe we can give her what she wants.”

“What do you mean?”

“She wants to be told to shut the fuck up and do what she’s told, right?”

“We never got to finish our conversation because Mr. C told US to shut the fuck up.”

“Well, let’s finish it then and see what she says.”, the boy responds with a sly grin.

As you step around the curtain and collect your things, they watch as you pause and stare at the place the two of them had been sitting. A small smile flickered across your lips and that was all the confirmation they needed.

***

1994

You and Masie sway to the music from the side lines of the dance floor as you giggle like little kids. Initially, you had no interest in going to your 10-year reunion especially since you work at the school you graduated from but your best friend insisted, dragging you and the boys along.

“Where’s my niece?”, Maze shouts as she takes a sip from the cup in her hand.

“She’s with grandma and grandpa tonight. My mom has been showing her a lot of educational cartoons like Magic School Bus since she’s going to start Kindergarten next month.”

“Oh my god! Shut up! I still can’t believe that she’s starting school soon. I feel so old.”

“How do you think I feel!? Quick, come with me to get another bottle of water.”

As you started to turn around to head to the drink station, your body bumped into a couple of familiar faces.

“Oh, wow. Hey, Y/N.”, Carol coos with a fake smile as Tommy squares his jaw beside her. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Carol. Real good. I actually teach here so I enjoy it… definitely a lot more than when I was student!”

Your old tormentors force a laugh as you continue to grin their way.

“We’ve been good to. I’m secretary at Tommy’s car dealership and our kids are…are just the best.”, she giggles obnoxiously as she wraps her arm around her partner. “How are Eddie and Steve? You’re not single I hope!”

You can’t help but fake laugh along with her, waiting for a pause to answer.

“God no. No single life for me. They are doing well though. Steve and Robin just got another big investment for their foundation and have help over 50,000 teenagers and people who were either kicked out of their homes or lost them due personal things in their life like their sexuality or who they love. And, um, oh, yeah! Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin just signed with a major label and their new single just hit number 3 on the music charts so we’re planning on moving into a bigger house soon. I’m so excited! You can ask them to tell you more. I know they’re around here somewhere.”

“Oh, uh, no. That’s alright. It was, um, nice seeing you again. Come on, Tommy.”, Carol grumbled as she pushed him away from you.

“I heard they are on the verge of divorce.”, Maze conveyed making you grin.

“Yeah and Tommy’s dealership isn’t doing so hot. Where are Eddie and Steve? They would have loved to be a part of what just happened.”

“They said they wanted to wonder around for a bit.”

“’Wonder around’? Uh huh.”, you giggle knowing how the men you love are.

Excusing yourself, you walked down the hallway towards your classroom but found nothing. As you turned to head back to Masie, however, a palm reached around to cover your mouth and pull you into Mr. C’s adjacent room.

You squeaked and struggled against the person’s grip till your eyes landed on the chocolate ones in front of you.

“You jerks. I knew you were up to something!”, you scold playfully as Steve drops his hand and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Took you long enough. We’ve been here for a while.”, Eddie grins as he caresses your cheek.

“Blame Carol and Tommy.”

“Did they say something to you?”, the former jock asks with concern.

“They did but I handled it.”

“Oh?”, the metalhead jests, quirking one of his eyebrows before taking you in his arms and lifting you onto the desk. “Did you remind her that you still have an ass and she doesn’t?”

You laugh as you shake your head and kiss his lips.

“How are you feeling, honey? Everything still alright?”

“Yes, Daddy. We’re both alright.”, you coo as your palm runs over your tummy.

“Good.”, Eddie chuckles as he leans in to kiss your neck. “Remember, don’t hesitate to use our word if you start feeling nauseas or anything, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Sir. Say Vanilla if the butthead decides to throw a rager in my belly and makes mommy sick.”

“Hey. Kid has my genes so he definitely knows how to have and or ruin a good time.”

“Shut up, Eddie Munson.”

His lips pause in place so he can lean back as his eyes can meet yours.

“Did you just tell me to shut up?”

“Maybe.”

Fingers suddenly take hold of your neck and lightly squeeze making you moan as you tilt your head to look at Steve’s darkened expression.

“Oh no, Eddie. It seems little girl here forgot her manners.”, he growls as he forces you down, slamming your back against the desk.

After lifting up your dress, the metalhead takes hold of your thighs and tugs your body closer to the edge.

“Well, Steve, we’re definitely in the right place to remind her how to use them.”

################

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @eddiesguitarskills

@needylilgal022 @local-stoner-bitch @katethetank @nailbatanddungeon

@sidthedollface2 @justanotheryn @pedropascalslilbaby

@marsupiooo @mandyjo8719 @bexreadstoomuch

@chelebelletx @perdopascalslilbaby @shayeddie @anaibis

@wroteclassicaly @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

@siriuslysmoking @raptorbait529 @miarosso @micheledawn1975

@paleidiot @mrsjellymunson @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart

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blackblinkx · 1 year

Text

Jennie ‘You & Me’ Icons

She is so mesmerizing

#black pink #blackpink #k pop #kpop #blackpink jennie #Jennie icons #blacklink jcons #born pink #beautiful #have you ever seen a woman so pretty you cried

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afterglowsainz · 28 days

Text

yes, and? | max verstappen

summary: max’s impossible crush finally notice him, but he’s stuck in a pr relationship

fc: simone ashley

a/n: so i try something a bit different with this one and made it on the longer side (if you’ve listened to ariana’s song you know this is gonna be messy for sure) (also, simone ashley??? or the prettiest woman ever??? i’m obsessed with her)

—

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 life off track

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username i screamed cried and fainted

username second pic should be illegal

megan.galanis 🥰

username not the pr girlfriend 🙄

username omg let them live!

username they’re dating, get over it

username the third pic pls he’s so POOKIE

username number 1 stan of max’s thighs

username thirsting on main???

username PLS because how can you not ??

liked by maxverstappen1, bffusername and others

ynusername bridgerton press tour at it’s finest 💍

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username MOTHER

username you’re the prettiest woman alive😩

username yn just one chance please !

bffusername slayyyy

yourusername 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

jbayleaf viscountess activities😎

yourusername 🐝🐝🐝

username im in love with a woman i’ve never met

tiktok comments

username never took max for a bridgerton guy???

username not complaining tho

username max in his regency romance era🤭

username now i get why he’s always in y/n’s likes like damn i too would be obsessed after watching her on that show

ynusername thank you! <3

liked by scuderiaferrari, maxverstappen1 and others

ynusername it’s the monaco grand prix! i never miss the grand prix🏁

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username yn and f1 my two passions❤️

username the way yn always serves cunt MUST be studied

bffusername is it? who’s playing?

username ohhh the reference i love them!

username gorgeous! 😍

username i’m in awe

maxverstappen1 🤣

liked by schecoperez, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 P1 in Monaco🏆🇲🇨

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username the icon, the legend, the moment

username max verstappen, the only man ever🫶🏽

charles_leclerc nice one mate, congrats! 👊🏽

username no megan appearance, no like, no comment… are we out of the woods?

username oh wow, she didn’t go to 1 race, they obviously must have broken up 🙄

username no but seriously, did her contract ended or something?

username girl why are you so obsessed with their relationship? just leave them alone srsly

liked by megan.galantis, bffusername and others

f1gossippofficial max verstappen has been seen lately on multiple dates with actress y/n y/l/n around monaco

view all comments

username he’s been seen on WHAT

username with WHOM

username but… what about megan…

username what about her?

username never thought of y/n as a homewrecker

username never thought of max as a CHEATER!

username im not mad about this pairing tbh🤔

username megan liking this post and unliking it???

username and y/n’s best friend liking it also

username she’s so unserious

liked by bffusername, maxverstappen1 and others

ynusername moments📷

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username bestie who took the pics?👀

username don’t be shy you can tell us🤭

username THE PEOPLE’S PRINCESS

bffusername the most beautiful and pretty and talented and funny and smart and

ynusername i’ll marry you rn😩

username after those pics with max i can’t see her the same

username HOMEWRECKER

username haters gonna hate fr y/n i love you if you see this! 💕

maxverstappen1 🥰 (liked by ynusername)

username oh that’s not…

username this is so wrong in so many levels😭

liked by carlossainz55, ynusername and others

maxverstappen1 another successful weekend for the team, hopefully many more to come! 🇨🇦

view all comments

username “hopefully many more to come” as if we don’t know he’s gonna win all the races already

username being a red bull fan is sooo easy and fun i love it here

username i miss seeing megan in the paddock :(

username jesus christ who understands you, when she was there you hated on her and when she isn’t you miss her

username also, she just missed two races, like😭

username let’s goooo super max

redbullracing many more to come👊🏽

ynusername 🏎🏎 (liked by maxverstappen1)

username she really has no shame huh?

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

ynusername yes, and?

tagged maxverstappen1

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username this was the last thing i expected when i open instagram

username pls the caption😭

username she’s NOT a serious person and i love her for it

username welcome back ariana grande😍

landonorris and my credits for the last picture?

ynusername props to you🙄

username hottest couple imo

username this post single handedly convinced me to watch her show

username it’s so good honestly!!

username yesss y/n and max bringing back messy celebrity couples we love to see it!

maxverstappen1 my one and only girlfriend you’re everything❤️

ynusername you’re too much love!💘

username not the “one and only girlfriend” !!

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gglitch1dd · 2 months

Text

Oh my God! HE'S MOVING!

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Note: Pregnant reader, pregnant hormones, FLUFF

Izuku entered your shared home, taking off his shoes with a sigh. Fifteen minutes ago, you had woken him up asking him if he could get you ice-cream, specifically matcha green tea ice-cream. Why? He wasn't sure but he did know one thing, you were pregnant and if you wanted ice-cream, you were getting ice-cream. He shrugged off his jacket as he went to the kitchen. He scooped up a few generious scoops of ice-cream putting it in a bowl and getting you a spoon, before putting the ice-cream in the freezer.

He moved upstairs navigating through the dark, stifling a yawn. He had only managed to get three hours of sleep when you had asked for ice-cream, but at least he would be allowed a nice late morning with you once it was a more reasonable time of day.

"Babe." He called as he moved upstairs, heading towards your bedroom. "I got the ice-cream." He walked into the bedroom to see you were sitting up with a comforter pillow at your back. You turned to look at him, a plate of chicken wings sitting on your belly as you looked at him with tears in your eyes. You frowned when you saw him, tears falling from your eyes. "What's wrong, my love?" He asked as he walked over to you, putting down the bowl on his side of the bed.

You started crying as you put down the chicken wing you were eating. "I don't want the ice-cream anymore." You said deeply upset by your change in apetite. "I thought I would want it but now that I think about it, I feel sick. So I got chicken wings from the fridge but I didn't want to tell you cause you already left to go get me ice-cream."

Izuku's shoulders sagged as a smile went to his face, he held back a chuckle, knowing that laughing at you would result in him being subjected to sleep in the guest room... again. "Y/N." He moved over to you and opened his arms. "Do you need a hug?"

Despite you putting away the plate of chicken wings, you shook your head as you grabbed the on-standby tissues that were perched at your side of the bed, wiping your fingers and your face a bit

"Are you sure?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You looked at him again. More tears fell from your eyes as you felt a sob come out of you. You nodded your head as you leaned into your husband. He moved to pull you into his embrace. You cried in his arms, cursing the pregnancy hormones and the stupid Midoriya genes that now had you crying like your husband's family was known for.

He rubbed your back as he held you. "There there, it's alright honey." He caressed your head as he held you.

"You're not mad?"

"I'm not mad." He shook his head.

"This is all your fault you now. You got me pregnant, now I won't stop crying."

He chuckled as he nodded his head. "I know, I'm sorry. It is my fault." He assured you. "But you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and you look even more radiant carrying our son."

Just as you were about to stop crying, your lips wobbled in a frown as more tears went to your eyes as you remembered the gender reveal you had just two weeks ago. "We're having a boy." You let out as you started crying again.

Izuku smiled as he stayed holding you, allowing you to process your emotions. "We are."

"I'm so happy."

"I'm glad you're happy, my love." He kissed the top of your head. "I'm happy to. Now can I get you a nice damp cloth to wipe your face? Would that make you feel better?"

You nodded your head with a sniff. "I think i want the ice-cream now."

"With the chicken wings?" Your eyes brightened, excited at the disgusting combination. Izuku chuckled. He passed over the ice-cream handing it to you. You smiled happily as you took a spoon of ice-cream, putting it in your mouth with a happy hum.

He shook his head as he moved to head to the bathroom. He wet your cloth, making it warm and damp. He wringed it of water.

"IZUKU!" You shouted.

At your tone of voice, in a flash of light he was at your side. "What's wrong?" He asked with a worried expression.

You paused as if you were waiting for something to happen. You gasped as you looked back up at him. "There it was again!"

"There was what!?" He asked. He looked around the room. "Do you hear something? Are the bunnies awake?"

"No, Zuzu." You put away the ice-cream next to your chicken wings before grabbing his hand and pulling him closer so that he could sit at the end of the bed. You moved his hand to rest on top of your silk maternity night gown as you waited for it to happen again. "I..." you started of softly. "I'm not sure but... I think-"

You stopped talking as you both looked down at your stomach. Right where you had put your husband's hand you saw a slight shift before a kick went to his fingers. Then nothing.

You looked at Izuku and he looked back at you with wide green eyes.

You looked back down at your stomach. You poked your tummy again.

Nothing.

Another shift happened.

"Oh my God..." You let out softly. "Izuku... Izuku, he's moving." You let out in disbelief. "OH MY GOD! HE'S MOVING!" You shouted in excitement. "I've been waiting for him to move."

Your husband was speechless as he moved closer to your stomach, shifting to move his entire palm over your stomach. He put his head on top of your stomach, almost as if he wanted to hear something. Then he felt another shift.

This was real. The little baby inside you was real and he was finally big enough to make his presence known. The wonder of a woman's body was a mystery to Izuku, but to be able to make this? Well that's something he couldn't help but praise for the rest of his life.

A chuckle of disbelief came out of your husband as he laughed. Tears went to his eyes. He nodded his head affirming your words. "He's moving."

"HE'S MOVING!" You laughed as tears left your own eyes.

-Glitch1d

[Midoriya Izuku's Masterlist]

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #midoriya x reader #izuku x y/n #mha fluff #deku x reader #mha x y/n #mha midoriya #izuku fluff #deku x reader fluff

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sapphicmsmarvel · 2 months

Text

Azriel: baby blanket

Azriel had never had a baby blanket.

When you found this out, it made you so sad you started crying (you were on your period which didn’t help the emotions).

You were talking with Feyre and Cassian. Feyre mentioned how she found Rhysands baby blanket in their closet and couldn’t get over how cute it was.

“It has bats! It was so cute.”

“Oh yeah, Rhys’ mom made me one with swords on it.” Cassian sipped his beer.

“And Az?” You asked.

“Az what?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“What was on Az’s?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Huh.” Cassian thought. “I don't think he ever got one.”

“What? Why?” Your heart was shattering for your husband and mate.

“When he joined the family, he was in his preteens. A little old for a baby blanket. I joined when I was a bit younger so I think that’s why I got one.” He titled his head as he thought. “He might’ve had one when he was with his blood relatives, but I doubt they let him have any comfort.” He grimaced.

You teared up. “Rhys’ mom never made one for him?”

“No, just because he was a bit older.” Cassian shrugged.

You frowned, “I wouldn’t think of it either if I were her I just…” Your lip wobbled. “He deserves it.”

“Aw shit.” Cassian got up and went to your other side. “I forgot you were on your cycle.”

“Shut up.” You cried, swatting his arm. Which he wrapped around you and pulled you to his chest.

“He’s okay, sweetheart. He’s a big boy.” He kissed your temple.

“Everybody deserves a baby blanket. I still have mine.” You bit your lip and sniffed. “I need to make Az one. He deserves it!”

Feyre touched your shoulder. “I think Rhys still has fabric his mother owned.”

“Can you ask? I wanna make it and include the woman that took him in.” You frowned, “and find some way to include his mother.”

“Of course.” Feyre said. She also kissed your temple.

Feyre later asked Rhys, who absolutely let you have some fabric. That way the blanket was from both you and Rhys’ mom. You reached out to Azriel’s mother, who helped you learn to sew. You spent hours with her. You loved doing this so you could give Azriel something meaningful, then it was better since his mother helped you learn.

You did a few practice runs with random squares of fabric that weren't the special kind. Just to make sure you didn’t fuck up the actual project.

You picked out a soft fabric he loves because it doesn’t cause sensory issues. You chose if in his siphon blue with stars on it.

When he came home after you had finished it, he was concerned because you looked like you were up to something.

It didn’t help that you had made his favorite foods plus dessert (since you wouldn’t let him eat you for dessert with your cycle going on, which he doesn’t care either way for the record).

Then after dinner, you made him sit on the couch and close his eyes for a surprise. “And I forbid your shadows being sent out! So don't send them!” You yelled as you ran up the stairs to grab the surprise.

“Yes, love.” As if they’d listen to him over you in this case. Plus, he’s never seen you so excited. So no, he wasn’t going to ruin it.

He heard your giggling as you walked down the steps and couldn’t help his own tiny chuckle. He heard the crinkling of a bag as well.

“Okay, open your eyes baby.” You said. He opened his eyes to see his love smiling wide and her eyes twinkling.

She handed it to him, he could feel that it was hefty. He took the tissue paper out and threw it at you, which you giggled at as it hit you.

Then he saw the most beautiful blanket there. He pulled it out. It was a deep, rich navy blue. Sparkling with the night sky.

“Did you make this?” He whispered, his heart was already filled because his love gave him something.

You nodded and that caused his heart to overflow.

“I love it but what’d I do to deserve it?”

“Just be you.” You said. Then he saw the tears start in your eyes. “Gods, this stupid cycle. The amount of times I cried making it.” You wiped your face.

“Cassian told me you’d never had a baby blanket. And everybody deserves that bit of comfort. I’m sorry if this seems silly I just-“ Your lip wobbled. “I wanted you to have it.”

“Oh baby.” Azriel cooed. Which was weird, because he was one of the most feared warriors cooing over his period-ridden wife. “C’mere.” He set the blanket down, and pulled you into his lap. Your thick thighs cradling his muscular ones.

You fit perfectly in his lap. He then grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around you both. For a baby blanket, it was quite large. You worked so hard. He loved it so fucking much.

“I’m sorry this is your gift and I can’t stop crying.” You let out a wet laugh. “Gods, the amount of times your mother teased me for crying.” You sniffed.

“My mother?” He froze.

“I went and visited her a lot these past few months. She taught me how to sew. We had lots of tea and talked about you.” You teased. “I loved seeing her so much.” You whispered.

His heart was bursting. You spent time with his mother, his mother who you loved to see.

“Baby, this is beautiful. You’re so talented.” He kissed your forehead. “I can’t believe you made me a baby blanket. Thank you.”

He never even thought that he’d want one. Now, the only way anybody would get it out of his hands would be if he were dead.

“Where did you find this fabric?” He asked. It was beautiful. As if the night sky itself was woven into it. And so soft on his skin.

“Rhys’ mother.” You sniffed again.

He snapped his head to you, confused. You smiled. “I asked Rhys if there was any fabric left from her. Then I actually embroidered your mothers signature in the corner, with her guidance. So,” You shrugged. “It’s from all three of us.”

“The three most important women in my life.” He murmured.

He brought you into a kiss that told a thousand words. “Thank you.” His voice broke off. “I can’t even begin to think of how to repay this.”

“That’s the thing Az. You don't have to. I’m your wife, I am honored to give you something so special.” You whispered, clutching his face.

“You didn’t just give it. You made it. You make me so happy, my love.” He brought you in for another kiss.

After that night, you kept catching him snuggling the blanket. He wouldn’t travel with it, it was his prized possession. It never left your house. All your family knew about it was that you made him a blanket.

Then, for away missions. You made him a travel size one.

Then for his birthday. A tinier matching one. Only with your signature in the corner opposite his mothers.

And, an embroidered baby footprint.

#acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x reader fluff

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harunayuuka2060 · 9 months

Text

Grandma MC: Look at these, son. Aren't the flowers in full bloom?

Crowley: Indeed they are, Granny.

Grandma MC: Oh, *chuckles* I wish my eyesight was still very clear. I don't know if what I'm seeing is red or a pink flower.

Crowley: It's magenta, Granny.

Grandma MC: It is? Oh, beautiful, beautiful. I should make a sweater with that color.

Crowley: I'll buy you some supplies then.

Grandma MC: Oh don't bother yourself. I'll just ask Sammy if he can lend me some.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: You knew Mr. S?

Grandma MC: Why, yes! We had this talk about going to other side. *chuckles*

Crowley: ...

Sam: It was a fun discussion! What are you being angry about?!

Crowley: You should not talk about death to an old lady!

Sam: Granny is OLD. She's not like a delusional old woman who wishes to have a long life! She's open-minded and sweet, and she's curious!

Crowley: She is! But have you ever thought how would that make me feel?!

Sam: ...

Sam: Oh. My bad, headmage.

Sam: ...

Crowley: Hmph. Granny needs some supplies. She wants to knit a sweater in a magenta color.

Sam: ...

Sam: Alright. You'll pay for this. Yes?

Crowley: Yes. And I'm giving you a warning.

Sam: Okay, okay. No talking about death with Granny.

Grandma MC: *chuckles* *pleased with her work* I wonder who I should give this.

Grandma MC: Grim, is there anyone you know that's in a relationship?

Grim: Your boys are all hopelessly single, Granny.

Grandma MC: Why, that can't be true.

Grim: They are. Have you ever seen them meeting a girl?

Grandma MC: Oh it doesn't have be a girl, Grim.

Grim: Oh. Okay. Rook and Vil of Pomefiore.

Rook: Merveilleux! Are these really from Granny?

Grim: Yeah. You should try it on together with Vil.

Vil: ...

Vil: Are these couple sweaters?

Rook: *chuckles, obviously liking it*

Vil: ...

Vil: Does Granny think Rook and I ARE in that kind of relationship?

Grim: ...

Grim: Well, she said it doesn't have to be a girl so—

Grim: ...

Vil: *looking sternly at him*

Grim: ...

Grim: *frowns* Well if you don't like it, just give it back!

Vil: No. Rook, we're wearing this.

Rook: Oui!

Epel: ...

Epel: What's this?

Vil: Your sweater, Epel.

Epel: ...

Epel: Why is it almost similar to yours and Rook-senpai's?

Vil: *teasing smirk* I asked Granny to make a kiddie version.

Vil: We're all wearing ours on family day.

Epel: Like hell I would!

Rook: Epel, we didn't raise you to be disrespectful.

Epel: *cries* I'm going to report you to Granny!

#twisted wonderland #twst grandma mc #twst crowley #twst sam #twst grim #twst vil #twst rook #twst epel

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repulsiveliquidation · 3 months

Text

Two is Better than One || The Orgy

Part 4 of The Orgy

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

warnings : Mommy/Daddy kink, oral sex, anal sex, pillow riding, plug usage, strap-ons, swearing, dirty talk (degrading)

The cameras flashed with every move she made. Her hair was perfect. Her makeup was flawless. Her suit was impeccably made. It fits every curve, toned muscle, and pound of flesh she had, not a single stitch out of place. She was La Reina of course, perfect in every shape and form.

The beige complimented her skin beautifully, her confidence allowed for nothing underneath to look so elegant and poise. She smiled like she owned the place, the cries for her to look a certain direction normally bubbled her anxiety but tonight she was feeling herself.

Down at the other end of the red carpet stood another blonde who knew she was gorgeous. Her tie sat on her chest in a perfect knot, her shirt was pressed and her pants had the perfect crease down the front. The black and white brought out the color of her hair and her mesmerizing eyes. She sauntered in with full confidence, shoulders back and chin up for all the photos she knew would have her best side. She looked over and saw the Spaniard at the end, talking to the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

The girl had on the most beautiful emerald dress that showed off her curves, the thin straps and satin material brought out the beautiful blues and greens in her eyes. The gold necklace and accessories around her wrists rang through the sound of flashes going off. Leah made a beeline towards you, tapping the Spaniard on the shoulder and greeting her politely. You smiled and handed her a mic as well, slipping into the perfect segway of the World Cup final.

Nothing beats a story about the final straight from the captains themselves. This was a promising story and you had the privilege to be the one to write it. The two captains enjoyed the rivalry that had been quite light over the years but there was evidence of a lot of maturity between them and the admiration they both had for each other was very apparent.

Leah explains how the game only motivated the girls to play harder and work harder. Seeing it from the stands and knowing what Alexia had gone through was something that Alexia echoed when asked what it was like playing the Lionesses and not having Leah on the pitch battling it out.

The two made their way into the auditorium, parting ways a little more starstruck than when they set foot on the carpet, the image of you was one that both captains had running around in their minds that night.

Leah approached the bar and asked for a whiskey sour, standing at a cocktail table drumming her fingers on the table while her head bobbed to the music. She sips the last bits of her drink when the smell of your perfume enters her orbit. You had walked behind her towards the bar, a big smile on your face as you sipped the margarita that appeared in front of you a little too quickly.

Leah took a deep breath and walked up to you, handing her an empty whiskey crystal glass and asking for another. You smiled at her and minded your business, not wanting to talk to her more than you needed to, being a journalist and all. Leah surprised you though, leaning on her arm as she stirred her drink.

“I loved doing that interview with you, by the way, Y/N.”

“Oh, I appreciated your time, I’ll make sure to use all the best parts in the final cut!” you thanked her, sipping on your drink nervously. The English woman carried herself well and towered over you a little, smirking a little too smugly at you.

“Are you here with anyone?” Leah asked forwardly, the two double shots of whiskey drinks on an empty stomach already gave her a little buzz.

A little taken aback and flattered by her line of questioning, Leah was happy to see you shake your head. You were about to ask her the same when the slightly more intimidating captain appeared behind you and asked for a rum and coke in the sexiest accent you had grown to love.

“Hola, Y/N. Leah,” Alexia acknowledged, taking her drink from the bartender with a quiet “gracias,” at the end before she sauntered off back to her friends.

“She knows your name,” Leah said, pointing out that her tone suggested that she knew you before the red carpet interview. Leah was a little disappointed that she had never seen you till tonight, let alone know your name.

“I work for Barça, I’m their sports writer,” you explained, finishing your drinking and asking for water.

Just as Leah’s about to ask you more about your job, your producer texts you that the star guest, Aitana Bonmati just arrived and you need to interview her. The latest Ballon d’Or winner was your last interview before you could clock out and enjoy the party so you make sure to tell Leah that you wanted to talk to her and take up her time.

“She’s my last interview, have an extra strong marg waiting for me?” you tell her and run off, smiling when you hear her stutter her agreement. Leah smirks and turns to the bartender, “You heard the woman, have a marg ready when she’s headed over here again, yeah?”

Over at the Spain delegate table, Alexia had been chewing on the little stirrer in her glass, eyes dark and staring so hard, Marta was sure there would be lasers coming out of her hazel eyes if she put her mind to it.

“Are you trying to kill her, Reina?”

Alexia snapped out of her angered trance and brushed off her co-captain, annoyed that her attempt at wishing for Leah’s downfall was interrupted.

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Ale, if looks could kill about half the room would be dead. You’ve death-stared everyone she’s talked to.”

“How do you–”

“You’re not as subtle as you think, capi. Go get yourself another drink and wait for her at the bar.”

Alexia huffed and stood, readjusting her jacket before walking to the bar. She stares at Leah sitting there, immediately deciding to occupy the seat you were in before you left. Just as she’s about to lift herself into the barstool, Leah pipes up and what she says tips her anger past its boiling point.

“Someone’s in that seat,” Leah provides, looking at the Spain captain with a smile.

“And who might that be?” Alexia asks, albeit a little roughly.

“Your new sports writer, Y/N. She’s asked me to save her the seat.”

“Well, I’ll wait for her too then.”

“Do you need to have everything I have a chance at, Putellas?”

“Please, the better team won that day. And it wasn’t England.”

“You fucking–”

“Hola capi!”

Both their heads whip around and look at you, your big smile making both of their anger dissipate. The bartender listened and had a fresh margarita waiting for you like you requested and Leah smiled as she pushed it towards you. Alexia helped you into your seat and Leah glared at her. You were starting to get a hint of what was going on, feeling a little proud of yourself.

“What were you girls arguing about hm?” you ask innocently, raising your strong drink to your lips. Leah and Alexia nursed their drinks and didn’t answer you before the Spaniard mumbled something in Catalan. You understood the language and giggled, replying to her snarky remark. Alexia laughed and added to it, making you laugh a little harder. The English woman on your right had her eyebrows crossed, a look of pure annoyance on her face.

“I-I made sure he made your drink strong, did he make it right?” she interjected, reaching for your chair to swivel you to face her. You take a long, flirty sip and smile, nodding your head.

“It’s perfect Leah, gracias,” you compliment, rubbing her arm. You feel the ripple of her muscles under her jacket and realize that she’s flexing on purpose, making a conscious effort to feel around a little more.

“Did you make sure no one stole my seat while I was gone?” you ask cheekily, knowing that Ale probably came up here and tried to take your seat.

“She did but I made sure it was kept safe for you, princess,”

A dark blush creeps up her neck and Leah decides then and there that she wants to keep your neck that shade of red with all her bites when the annoyed Spaniard interjected and spun you back around towards her.

“¿Qué trato tienes con ella?”

"¿Por qué Ale, estás celoso capitán?"

“¿Te estás olvidando de quién perteneces, princesa?”

"Mm, papi, ¿no podemos agregarla a la lista de cosas bonitas que colecciono?"

“¿Es eso lo que quieres, niña bonita?”

"Sí, papi, la quiero tanto" you beg, pulling your best puppy eyes that are guaranteed to make Alexia fold. It does the trick and she nods, swigging down the last of her drink and standing. She steps towards Leah and adjusts her jacket, smirking a little.

“Williamson. Come with me a second.”

Leah scoffs and stands, following the Spaniard to a quieter side of the room.

“What, Putellas?”

“She has requested for you to join us in our room tonight.”

Leah can’t believe her ears. She blinks a few times and asks the two-time Ballon d’Or winner to repeat herself.

“She wants to fuck you, Williamson. You want her, don’t you?”

“You two a thing?”

“A thing of convenience, yes. Is that a problem?”

“No, quite the opposite.”

“Good. We’re in room 116, meet us there in fifteen minutes.”

Alexia leaves with you on her arm, a little drunken smirk on your face. Leah walks back over to the bar and asks for a cold glass of water. She chugs it all and waits ten minutes before she walks over to the elevators. Her hands sweat a little, and she’s nervous. She stands in front of room 116, hesitant to knock. Just as her right hand gets the courage the door opens and it startles her but your welcoming face calms her racing heart.

“Come in, you’re right on time!”

You walk in behind her and Leah gawks at the bed and all the stuff on it. There were more toys there than she had at home, harnesses that looked custom-made, and dildos that looked hard to take. Alexia sat in the meeting chair near the window, leg crossed and arms on the rests. Leah stands a little intimidated before you sit in Ale’s lap and look mesmerizing under the tinted orange lights.

“Welcome Williamson, I’m surprised you didn’t chicken out,” Alexia teases and you smack her arm, leaving Leah to cover her chuckles with a few unconvincing coughs.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Putellas.”

“Play nice the two of you or you’re not fucking me.”

Alexia sighs and regroups, taking a deep breath.

“Leah, welcome. I’ve got a few rules that we use to make this enjoyable. Would you like to say your safeword, amor?”

“Strawberry,” you answer obediently, snuggling back into Alexia’s arms.

“Mine is Apple,” Alexia tells Leah before Leah decides to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed.

“Watermelon,” Leah supplies, leaning forward on her elbows. She smiles, watching your eyes sparkle as she winks at you.

Alexia gets a little annoyed but keeps talking. Her hand around your waist tightens and you lean into her more, green dress a little creased where her hands feel you.

“You will do as I say when I say it, no arguments understand.”

Leah was about to answer her but you piped up with a voice so soft and subtle that it sent shivers down Leah’s spine.

“Yes Daddy,” you whispered to Alexia, standing up and sauntering over to the side of the bed. Leah smiles and watches you, and you smile, seeing both the captain’s eyes on you.

“Mind if you help me take this stunning dress off Mommy?” you ask Leah, watching as her eyes go dark when you use that name on her. Leah nods, walking over to you and helping you unzip your dress. You smile at Alexia and watch her fiddle with her jacket, knowing she’s already feeling hot inside.

“May I?” Leah asks you, pushing the emerald material off your shoulders. You smile and nod, feeling the English skipper’s hand take in all your curves and edges. Leah leans in and kisses along your shoulders and back, whispering how beautiful you looked in that dress and how she longed to see it on the floor in a pile next to her clothes.

Alexia stands in front of you and tilts your head up, eyes boring deep into yours. She smiled kindly, leaning in and pecking your lips. You kiss her back and Leah takes the opportunity to mark your neck up how she wanted to earlier. You moan into Alexia’s mouth and smile against her lips, reaching your arm behind to cradle her head.

Alexia pulls away from you and you step to the side as Leah crashes her lips on Alexia’s. Alexia grabs her face and kisses her back hard, moaning into Leah’s mouth. You stand and watch, biting your lip and rubbing your thighs together. You’ve slipped your underwear off and unclasped your bra, climbing onto the bed how Alexia liked. Leah pushes the Spaniard’s jacket off as hers comes off too, hands in pants struggling to get each other naked fast enough. Hands roam and explore, muscles taut and on display for you to feast your eyes on.

When the two of them finally pull away, you’re on your knees and smirking, holding Alexia’s strap in your hands. She smiles and takes it from you, Leah helping her put it on. There’s a dramatic shift in power in the room, with you and Leah taking a more submissive role as Alexia takes control.

Leah gets on her knees beside you just as Alexia gives her her first command of the night.

“Lay on your back Leah, wanna use your mouth.”

The tingle that sentence sends down Leah’s legs was one that she hoped happened every time Alexia shoved her cock down her throat. Leah did as she said, laying on the bed with her head at the edge. Alexia caressed her cheek and smiled, kissing her lips briefly. Leah sat between your legs, a little buttplug in her hands that you didn’t know was coming.

Alexia’s cock sat on Leah’s face as she caressed her chest. Leah’s nipples perked at her touch, the cold room keeping them rock hard. Leah moaned and smiled, licking up the silicone as the blood in her body slowly rushed to her head.

Alexia stood tall and pressed her cock to Leah’s lips, watching her face get more and more red. Alexia’s hips fuck into her mouth slowly, hands holding her head steady. You, on the other hand, pushed Leah’s legs wide open to play with her wet folds. Leah’s dripping, feeling your fingers play with her clit and ass.

Alexia gently wrapped a hand around Leah’s neck, feeling the cock bulge in her throat. Your fingers slipped into Leah’s pussy and she moans, the vibrations sent around Alexia’s cock and she felt it in her palm. Alexia smiles and chuckles, slapping her breast a few times before speeding up her hips. You sucked on the buttplug and Alexia watched, eyes hooded and lips already red and bitten from concentration. She pulls out and spits into her open mouth messily just as you slip the plug into Leah, hearing her moan and pant in pleasure.

Leah scoots up and feels the blood from her head distribute properly, the plug inside her settles just right and she looks up at you with a smirk. She licks Alexia’s spit from all over her mouth and makes sure to keep her eyes on Alexia.

“I wasn’t expecting that but I am so fucking thankful I said yes.”

“Ready for more, Mami?”

“Fuck yes,” Leah pants, turning over and waiting for Alexia to give her further instructions. Alexia smirks, hand reaching for your face and kissing you hard. Leah watches, eyes bouncing between you and Alexia. She takes your breast in her mouth, sucking noisily as you lay down for Alexia.

“Open those pretty legs for me, mi amor,” Alexia asks, and Leah latches off your breast with a loud pop. Your legs open wide and you’re soaked, pussy glistening for Alexia to enjoy. She swipes her fingers through your folds and licks her fingers clean, both you and Leah watching her in awe.

Alexia looks at Leah and she feels immediate obedience fall over her, ready to do her every wish.

“I want you to ride her face while I fuck her pretty pussy. And when I say ride her face, I mean use her like the fucking whore deserves to be used. Got it?”

“Yes Daddy,” Leah replies easily, the title sending pleasure through all your veins. Leah settles on top of you and lowers herself onto your mouth, hands gripping your hair as she grinds down on your tongue. Alexia pushes your legs back as wide as they can and thrusts her hips forward for her cock to effortlessly slide into your pussy. Leah moans when you start sucking on her clit, your hands massaging the plug in her ass gently as you sucked.

Alexia watched you and Leah closely, hips pounding into your hole hard. She almost bent you in half, legs wide open which only helped her cock into your pussy deeper. Leah slipped off your face and turned around to face Alexia, leaning forward with her hands gripping Alexia’s big ones as she ground a little harder on your tongue. Alexia held her steady and kissed her roughly, moaning into Leah’s mouth. You spanked Leah’s ass and fucked it with the plug inside her, feeling her hole clenching on your tongue that you just slipped in. Alexia leaned back and you cried out for her to fuck into you faster, eyes rolling into your head as you struggled to focus on eating Leah out while Alexia fucked your brains out.

Leah was close too, thighs shaking as your skillful tongue suckled and flicked over her sensitive clit. Alexia fondled your clit with her rough hands, angling her hips up into your sweet spot to push you towards the edge. You pulled the plug inside Leah out and that was more than enough stimulation for her to come, orgasm ripping through her hard. She shuddered and moaned your name alongside Alexia’s, collapsing off of you and panting hard. Alexia grinned and simply pulled out, turned you onto your knees, and pushed her big cock back into you. You moaned and cried out for her, feeling your arms get pulled behind your back.

Alexia held you down and pounded into you, lips muttering dirty things into your ear to spur you on.

“You take it so well, amor. Can’t wait to see Leah on the end of my cock when I’m done with you hm? You wanna come all over it and make her taste how much of a good girl you are for me?”

“Yes Daddy!” you scream, coming hard and all over her cock. Alexia ruts into you despite your cries of sensitivity, pulling out only when she knew she’d leave you shuddering for a good thirty seconds afterward. Alexia kisses you and holds you as you settle, kissing your damp hair gently.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Leah compliments, the stars in her eyes tell Alexia that she’s more than ready to take her cock.

"Ven aquí, cariño,” Alexia beckoned, Leah crawled over and kissed Alexia’s neck slowly going lower and lower. Soon she was face to face with her wet cock and Leah immediately took it in her mouth, tasting you all over it. Leah moaned, eyes locked with Alexia’s who looked almost feral.

She studied her expressions and smirked a little menacingly, eyes dark and lust-driven. You sat obediently by her side, watching Leah suck Alexia’s cock and taste you on it.

“Doesn’t she taste like magic, cariño?”

“Yes Daddy, she does,” Leah answers, kissing the tip before kissing Alexia passionately. Alexia tastes you on her lips and you can see their tongues fight for dominance, the exchange of your taste turns you on immensely.

Alexia settles in behind Leah and smiles at you. She caresses down Leah's toned defender thighs, knowing exactly where Leah could feel Alexia’s cock on her. Alexia kissed her shoulder and neck, whispering in her ear only for Leah to hear.

“Want me to fuck your ass, cariño? Did she get you nice and loose for me?”

“Yes Daddy, please fuck my ass,” Leah begged, feeling a shiver run down her spine. Leah bends forward onto her elbows, pushing her ass out for Alexia. Alexia leans in and spanks her hard, kneading the defender’s meaty ass. She looks over at you and chuckles, seeing your thighs rub harder together as you refrain from touching yourself without her permission.

“Need something, amor?”

“Wanna feel good Daddy, please…”

“Hmm, but I’m fucking our guest amor, I can’t do you both,” Alexia points out matter-of-factly as if Leah wasn’t even there. And boy did that turn her on.

“Please Daddy, it hurts…” you say, hips grinding down on the bed when Alexia gets an idea.

“You wanna show your latest collection how good you are at riding, amor? Want to grind that gorgeous pussy on a pillow and show her how you make yourself come?”

“Yes, yes please Daddy, I’ll show her how good I am for you,” you tell her and grab a soft duck feather pillow and straddle it, grinding your hips gently for Leah and Alexia.

Leah watches you through hooded eyes and a melting mind, feeling Alexia’s tongue slip into her ass as her fingers rub soft circles over your swollen clit. You put on a little show, grinding seductively on purpose to show Leah all the tricks up your sleeve.

Leah moans when Alexia’s cock slips into her, feeling the cold lube and thick appendage stretch her wide. Leah grips the sheets but keeps her eye on you, watching your hips ride that pillow expertly. Your face is full of erotic expressions when Alexia chuckles.

“Faster amor, I think our guest loves your little show, don’t you Leah?”

“Y-Yes!” Leah exclaims, feeling Alexia’s hips fuck into her ass harder. Leah’s head droops as she moans in pleasure when a large hand grabs her hair and forces her to look at you riding the pillow.

“Eyes on her, cariño. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? Isn’t she just perfect?”

“S-She’s so beautiful, Daddy,” Leah croaks out, feeling Alexia pull her back against her chest and her hand moves from her blonde hair to around her neck. Alexia’s hips smack her ass with a loud clap, echoing through the hotel room.

You can barely hold back anymore, holding the pillow taut and grinding your clit down in a particular way that shoves you head-first into your second orgasm of the night. The sight of the two captains fucking and Alexia’s dominant side on full display was more than enough for you to get so turned on and come so hard your ears were ringing. You almost missed the part where Leah begged and begged Alexia to let her come and make a mess on her cock.

“Daddy, Daddy please!”

“Please what, Mommy? You want to come?”

“P-Please, please! I’ve been so good!”

“You have been the perfect guest cariño, so perfect for us Mami,”

“Close Daddy, so fucking close!”

“Come cariño, come on Daddy’s cock,” Alexia allowed, pounding into Leah’s ass a couple more times before Leah almost passed out from her orgasm. You caught her and kissed her everywhere, Alexia caressing her cramping legs as Leah slowly came back.

“Fuck, that was-”

“Exquisite.”

Alexia threw her harness off and laid back, pulling the two of you into her sides. You gave Leah a look that she understood immediately. Leah’s hands roamed naughtily down between Alexia’s legs as you took Alexia’s breast into your mouth. Alexia physically relaxed into the mattress and chuckled, opening her legs a little to let Leah in a little more. Leah’s fingers slipped into her pussy and pressed up immediately, finding her sweet spot and rubbing it hard.

Alexia moaned Leah’s name and yours, cradling your head that sucked her breasts one after the other. Her breath shallowed and her chest heaved, hand on your head as you leaned over her and licked her clit as Leah fingered her.

“Amor! Ca-Cariño!” she cried out as she came, feeling her ears ring and legs shudder hard. She panted and you slipped back beside her. Leah gently pulled her fingers out of Alexia and she sucked on them, moaning at the taste of the Spanish captain.

“Delicious,” Leah stated, settling back into Alexia’s side.

“When you come to England in two weeks, stop by?” Leah asked you and Alexia, pecking both your lips.

“Sí, we have to play both sides out no? Like Champions League,” Alexia states seriously, you and Leah laugh and she starts chewing you two out in Catalan again which somehow lulls Leah to sleep.

Two weeks later, when you and Alexia make your way to England for the second leg of the Champions League semi-final against Chelsea, they crash at Leah’s house for the night. Alexia sat in the living room grumbling about the lack of good football on TV while you and Leah tried to reheat the takeout Leah had picked up from a local Chinese place down the street.

After dinner, Alexia suddenly got a little antsy, snuggling into Leah’s chest while you sat between her legs. Her hands were less subtle, finding their way under Leah’s hoodie, caressing the warm skin gently. You were the same, already settled on Alexia’s lap kissing her neck. Leah smirked and turned the TV on a little lower before caressing down Alexia’s arms.

“Does Daddy need something from us?” Leah asks, kissing Alexia’s ear softly as she whispers into it.

“Want you two, couldn’t stop thinking about that night at the hotel,” Alexia admits easily, melting into Leah’s embrace. Leah watches as you grind down on Alexia’s crotch when she shakes her head and looks back at Leah.

“Want you to fuck me Leah, want amor to watch you use me, cariño please,” Alexia pleads so beautifully, eyes filling with tears that only make Leah’s cunt throb.

“I can do that darling, you promise to be good for me angel?”

“The best, I am the best.”

“That you are, baby. I want you two in the room naked and on your knees at the foot of the bed.”

They scramble and Leah grins, turning the TV off and taking her time before she goes into the bedroom. She stood at the door and heard hushed whispers, before silence. She walks in and smiles, seeing the two of them exactly where she wanted them.

Alexia sits a little taller than you do, rocking a little on her knees in anticipation, clearly not accustomed to giving up control in the bedroom but seeing Leah’s eyes change and go dark with pure lust and sexual motivation only made her core ache in eagerness of what was to come.

“You,” Leah points rudely at you, “on the bed at the head. Not a fucking sound,” you nod and scramble onto the bed where she asks, hands folded neatly in your lap.

“And you,” Leah steps in front of Alexia, “lay down in the middle and be a good girl.”

“Yes Mommy,” Alexia answers, lying in the middle of the bed obediently. You settle at her head and caress her brunette and blonde hair, while Leah sits comfortably between her legs. Leah wastes no time and dives into her dessert, slurping and sucking on Alexia’s folds, fingers drumming up her muscular thighs that threatened to crush her head between them.

Alexia’s hands don’t know where to put themselves and Leah pulls them into her hair, eyes fixated on the thick Spaniard in her four-poster bed. Leah slips two fingers into Alexia like she had the last time they fucked and it sends Alexia’s brain spiraling, having tried to desperately recreate that feeling since Leah left the next morning.

You too can’t decide what to do with your hands, having been trained by Alexia to wait for instructions before moving a muscle. Leah can tell that Alexia has given up all her power today and that she held the reigns. It was a power that made her chest swell with pride.

“Ride her face, darling. That’s all her slut mouth is good for, isn’t it?” Leah taunted but Alexia only got wetter, the slick practically pouring out from the Catalan.

“Yes Mommy, she eats pussy so good,” you supply, straddling Alexia’s face before she can say anything. Leah smirks and presses her fingers up into Alexia’s sweet spot that she remembered from the last time. Alexia moans right onto your cunt, lapping up your juices that made your thighs sticky.

Leah pulls her fingers out and climbs off the bed, pulling her favorite strap out and securing it to her hips. Alexia can’t see what she’s got on but she can hear it and it sounds heavy. You ogle at the appendage between Leah’s legs and your eyes go wide, the ribbed dildo was long and thick, surely as big as Alexia had ever used on you.

Leah thrusts three fingers into the Spanish woman and fingers her hard and fast merely to open her up, Alexia’s legs struggling to keep themselves open as you leaned forward to ride Alexia’s tongue that had slipped into your heat.

“She feels so good Mommy,” you tell Leah, watching her fingers push into Alexia’s gaping pussy till the webbing. Her slick made a wet patch on the blanket under you three, your slick making a mess on Alexia’s beautiful face. She was in heaven, she thought, the two weeks of dreaming about this day made it worth the wait and it was more than she was expecting.

“She does feel good, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet she is?” Leah teases, reaching out for you for a kiss. You kiss her hard and moan, feeling Alexia’s big hands grab your ass for some stability.

“Want something a little special, darling?” Leah asks as she pulls away from you. She pulls her fingers out and watches you nod, tongue out like a panting like a dog. You think that Leah’s gonna let you have a little fun with Alexia but you were in for a little surprise like Leah said.

Leah presses her Alexia-covered fingers into your mouth deep into the cavern, pressing down on your tongue to pull a gag out of you.

“That is my favorite sound in the world, cariño,” Alexia pipes in, grinning wide with her slick-painted chin and lips.

“It is music to my ears,” Leah chimes in, pressing her fingers deep into your throat again to hear you gag. Tears fill your eyes and you stumble a little, falling forward onto Alexia’s torso.

Leah pulls out a strap from under her pillow and gives it to Alexia. You slip off her and stare, connecting the dots in your head.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you while Mommy has her way with me, got it?”

Leah smiles, helping Alexia pull the harness on. It settles right above her cunt which leaves it all for Leah while you could comfortably ride Alexia at the same time. Alexia sees the dildo Leah’s got on for the first time and smiles, stroking it gently.

“Will it fit Mommy?” she asks innocently, grabbing the lube Leah handed her to coat the toy with. She made a show of spreading the lube all over it, using the leftovers for her cock.

“We’ll get it to fit, darling.”

Leah manhandles you onto Alexia with her clean hands, spanking your ass hard as you look close to tears. She guides the toy into your pussy and you whine, the stretch was more than Alexia’s tongue could prepare you for.

“So full Mommy, feels so good,” you sigh, bottoming out on Alexia’s cock. She smiles and caresses your thighs before you add something that sends lightning through both Leah’s and Alexia’s veins.

“Your turn Daddy,” you grin and bite your lip, kneading Alexia’s breasts. Her hands on your hips suddenly go tight and Leah’s hands on your waist press you forward to expose Alexia’s heat. Leah swipes a little more lube on the tip and slides herself home, kissing your back as whines and whimpers leave Alexia’s mouth.

“Fuck, Mommy,” Alexia starts but takes a sharp breath when Leah bottoms out, “your cock is so big.”

“Too much, darling?”

“It’s perfect Mommy,” Alexia moans, moving her hips on her own. You began to ride her cock, feeling Leah’s thrusts which felt like she was fucking you too. You hover over Alexia and take her cock, feeling her thrust up into you as you try your best to ride her.

Leah ruts into Alexia like a dog in heat, the sticky lube creaming at the base of Leah’s cock as she enjoyed the view of your tight grip on Alexia’s cock to spur her on.

Alexia moaned loudly, feeling the ribbed cock inside her graze over her sweet spot. It jerks her hips which sends her cock so deep inside you that you’re sure you can feel it in your stomach. Your hand caresses your belly and lo and behold, there’s a cock shaped bulge just above your belly button.

“Oh Daddy, you’re so deep!” you moan, canting your hips on her cock faster to chase your high. Leah grips your waist but feels the skin tug under her hold and moves them just over your palm resting on the bulge that came and went.

“Daddy, you really are deep darling,” Leah tells Alexia whose hand, which is the biggest of the three, rests on top. She smirks when she feels the rhythmic pulse of her cock inside you.

“¿Cerca?” Alexia asks you and you nod when she feels Leah fuck into her pussy harder. It sends shivers down her spine and pleasure right through her body. Her eyes roll into her head and she smiles in pleasure, pulling you down for a searing kiss. Leah leans back and fucks up into Alexia’s swollen sweet spot, making sure the whole ribbed cock grazed it over and over again.

You aren’t sure who came harder.

You aren’t sure who screamed louder.

You aren’t sure how you ended up in a suspiciously Leah-scented hoodie.

Alexia asks herself the same question.

“Hello, darlings,” Leah’s voice sounded distant but comforting until there were kisses pressed to your head and several more on Alexia.

“What happened?” Alexia asked, tucking herself into Leah’s side and looking up at her.

“You two fell asleep the moment you came at the same time. I cleaned you up and put fresh sheets on. Now I need you two to finish this bottle of water before the pizza I ordered gets here.”

“We haven’t got any more games over here do we?” you ask Alexia as she sips on the water while Leah gets the pizza from the delivery man at the front door.

“No, but I think I can convince Jona to have international training to use the facilities at Arsenal or something because I need her dick again.”

#leah williamson #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #fc barca femeni #arsenal wfc #woso smut #leah williamson x alexia putellas x reader #leah williamson x reader #alexia putellas x reader #daddy alexia #mommy leah #pls save me

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doe-eyed-fool · 4 months

Text

Severed

Lucifer x Reader

If having the love of your dreams fall in love with someone else was painful, him being casted out of heaven, never to be seen again, crushed you.

You had loved him for so long, and it killed you inside to have never been able to tell him that. You let your fear of rejection get the better of you, and now, you would never get the chance to tell him how you felt.

It started out as innocent friendship, and overtime blossomed into something more. You had fell for him, and you had fell hard. But it was only you who felt this way. As he would always see you as a friend, and nothing more.

And that's how it was for so long.

You'd look at him with so much love in your eyes, your chest so painfully tight, heart ready to burst.

He'd look at you with some much care and platonic love one would have for another friend.

You knew this, and it hurt you like nothing ever had. You had convinced yourself there was no point in telling him how you feel, because he'd reject you. And when that happens, nothing will be as it was before.

Your friendship would be ruined. And that alone, was far worse than rejection.

You loved him too much to loose him.

But your love was not enough to keep him around much longer.

His new, and unheard of ideas, frowned upon by so many others. He was persistent, he would not let them ruin his dream, as impossible as it might have sounded.

And because of that, he fell...

Fallen from the place he called home, from all he knew, from you, and never to return.

You don't know how long you cried for, how long you were unable to sleep or eat. You didn't even get to say goodbye. He was gone, you would never see him again.

And now, you were left with nothing but your love for him. Love, that would never been known to him. Your heart ached like never before.

But it was nothing, compared to the news you'd hear some time after that.

The man you loved, had found love of his own.

A beautiful woman, with seemingly no flaws. She was perfect. Of course she was perfect. And he loved her more than anything.

They even had a child, from what you heard.

You were devastated. Your regret became a constant reminder, day in and out, of what could have been. It should have been you, is what you thought.

But you could not be upset with him. He had found someone that made him truly happy. Who he loved with all his heart. He was happy.

That gave you some sort of comfort. That in the place he was in now, he found love and happiness unlike he's ever had before.

But it still hurt. To know that you could have, you would have given him that. You would have made him as happy as you could. You would have loved him unconditionally.

There came a time, many years later, when his child would come to heaven. When she saw you, she smiled and approached you. She seemed excited to see you. Her name was Charlie, she was a lovely young woman. She recalled the many stories her father told her of you and him together so very long ago.

You could have broke down right then. He still thought of you...

He still remembers you...

You couldn't help but ask how he was doing. Apparently, he and his wife were separated and he was not the same lively man he use to be.

Charlie had returned to her home, angry with the fact the extermination was expected early, and there was no changing the minds of the angels and seraphs above.

Exterminations. You were unaware, just as everyone else was. But when you learned of what happened every year, you couldn't help but feel panicked.

What if they hurt him? What if they kill him?

He really would be gone forever, if that were to happen. You couldn't let that happen. You wouldn't let that happen. You'd do anything to keep it from happening.

Even if it meant giving up your wings. Even if it meant falling from Heaven, just as he had so very long ago...

When you arrived, you wasted no time in finding him. You got to him through Charlie, who was more than happy to help you. She had called him to meet with her, though instead of meeting with Charlie, it would be you.

And then, there he was...

"Lucifer..."

The man you loved from the very beginning.

He looked a little different, but it was still him.

Your heart swelled in your chest, tears pooling in your eyes. So long...you've waiting so long for this day. To finally see him again. And there he is.

"Y/n? What...What are you doing here?"

His worry evident in his tone. You couldn't have possibly done something to land yourself in a place like this, could you? That's what he thought.

You explained everything, and Lucifer looked just as shocked as you thought he would. But, there was something else...

He was overjoyed to see you, of course. You thought he would never stop hugging you in a near spine breaking embrace.

But he also couldn't help but feel guilty. You had clipped your wings to be here with him.

But you didn't care. You wanted nothing more than to see him again, to hold him and to be held by him. Even with all that, you still couldn't bring yourself to confess.

Not yet...

Within the short time before the extermination began, you learned so much about him. Like his obsession with ducks, for example. Most things stayed the same however.

The two of you grew closer in that time. And when time came for the extermination, you wanted to be there by his side still. You would not allow him to be taken from you again.

Though he begged you not to join the fight, you did anyway. You were determined to spend the rest of eternity with him. Even if he didn't love you back, he was here with you now. And that's all that mattered.

In the midst of the battle you had gotten injured, you witness Lucifer's rage unfold as he killed the angel that harmed you. You witness the same rage as he protected his daughter from Adam.

Even with his demonic form, you still saw Lucifer for who is was then, and who he is now. You loved him all the same. And you were thankful, that by the end of the battle, that Lucifer was still alive.

You could die happily, knowing that...

But Lucifer would never allow that.

It was thanks to him you'd live to see another day, though, it would take some time to recover. It didn't bother you, because it meant spending more time with him.

He'd stay by your side, keeping you company, and took care of your wounds. All the while, feeling guilty. You didn't need to get involved in that fight. And you wouldn't have gotten involved and hurt, if you had stayed in heaven.

Where you belong...

You shouldn't have to be down here with the rest of those scummy sinners. You should be spending eternity in paradise, even if that paradise was only surface level. It pained him to know you gave up so much, just for him. He didn't deserve that kindness.

That's how he felt anyway.

He just couldn't understand why you'd do all of this for him.

As you recovered, as the days turned to weeks and into months, you two would only grow closer. With every passing moment, Lucifer felt his life had finally taken a turn for the better.

Of course he was happy when he and his daughter became close again, but to have you back in his life...

He swore it felt like he was dreaming.

Slowly, he began to understand. Why you would give up everything to be with him.

"I love you, Lucifer."

It was a sudden confession, but one you felt would destroy you if you never spoke the truth. You told him as you two were looking back on memories of when you were both young.

Remembering the good times, along with the painful ones. It just pushed you that much further into saying what you wanted to from the very start.

Now. Now he truly understood why.

He would do the same for you in a heart because...

"I love you too, Y/n."

It felt like heaven, hearing those words. The only thing that could top it, was the feel of his lips on your own.

So many years had gone by, neither of you knowing such bliss until now. Lucifer thought he had found it once, only for the feeling to be cut short. But now, he knew this would last.

You'd both go many years from now on, in each other's embrace, never to be severed again...

(My first time writing for Lucifer! I hope I did good lol. Might do more in the future~)

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #unrequited love #at first #fallen angels

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maybankswhore · 11 days

Note

Maybe jj and and high school sweetheart wife

jj would definitely be the kind’ve guy that settles down early on in life & would not gaf.

you and jj would meet in your sophmore year of high school.

at first jj was a total player. he was known as the guy who got around , & only called the ‘bad boy’ because he just didn’t care about rules and smoked weed.

charming as always , though , when you and him are partnered for a random first week of school project — he’s immediately obsessed with you.

he thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and he has to have you.

you make him work for it , though.

and he loves that you do.

when he finally gets to call you his girlfriend — he flips the script.

everyone’s shocked at how easy he settled down for you.

they’re even more shocked when the two of you are still together by graduation.

you guys became the most adored couple at kildare.

after high school things get a little difficult because you two are going into adulthood and try figuring things out.

you break up a couple times but it only last about a week before jj is back at your apartment apologizing even if it isn’t his fault because he knows you’re it for him.

a couple years after high school ends and you’re both entering your mid-twenties , he proposes.

it’s a super simple , romantic wedding with your closest friends and jj literally can’t stop crying.

his vows? like poetry.

he’s been working on those since junior year of highschool because he knew he’d end up marrying you.

jj would be so soft with you.

he brags to everyone he meets that two of you are high school sweethearts.

“yeah— me and my wife met back in high school and have been together ever since. crazy , right? isn’t that amazing? she’s amazing.”

“i got so lucky to have the most beautiful girl in the world.”

he thinks it’s so special the two of you grew from teenagers together to adults.

“i know her way back when she had braces and colored her hair when she cried. watched her go from my girl , to my woman. my wife.”

cries when he listens to “margaret” by lana del rey for the first time because it makes him think of you.

“that song is so fucking sick for making me feel this right now on a tuesday.”

jj makes sure to be the best partner and wants to have the family he didn’t get when he was younger.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks imagines #outer banks #rafe cameron blurb #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank asks #obx jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj x y/n #jj maybank x you

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monsterfuckingthoughts · 7 months

Text

Orc Husband x Human Reader

Synopsis: You and your husband relish in the company of one another as old memories wander back to you.

You clawed at the furs on Kilian’s bed in an attempt to stay balanced. You stayed on your hands and knees as he fucked you from behind, with so much urgency you would have thought you were on the brink of death.

“God,” you moaned.

Your husband had been away for two weeks, traveling with his war council to facilitate peace talks with neighboring kingdoms in the region. Two weeks without your touch had driven him mad. His dreams were filled with you straddling him, bouncing up and down on his cock, breasts unrestrained, mouth screaming for a release. When he awoke he’d be forced to alleviate himself with the aid of his hand, not nearly as satisfying as sinking into you.

So when he arrived back to the stronghold he needed you. And you needed him. The two of you hardly waisted a second. Not even fully removing your clothes before fucking.

“Kilian. I’m coming! I’m coming!” you shrieked.

His grip tighten on your ass.

“So am I,” he managed to get out.

He hastily pulled you up and pressed the back of your body to his, taking the opportunity to cup your bare breast with his calloused hand.

You let out a painfully delightful whimper as you orgasm spread through you. Closing your eyes you allowed yourself to relax as Kilian’s warm seed released inside you.

The two of you completely undressed and laid beneath the furs in one anothers arms.

“You were amazing,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Let me accompany you next time my love. I don’t want to be separated from you like that again,” you begged.

“I know my darling. It was hard for me as well. But these missions can be dangerous. I’d never forgive myself if something were to happen to you.”

You kissed his pectoral and nuzzled closer. “I know. But the nights were so lonely without you in our bed.”

You kissed his nipple, taking his piercing between your teeth and giving it the smallest tug.

“(Name),” he growled.

You smirked pulling yourself up and settling on top of him. “I remember when you first came into my town. How handsome you were. How kind you were.”

He cupped your faced in his hand. “You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

“We became friends, but then we became more.”

“I still remember the first time.”

“Under the stars,” you mused. “In the poppy field.”

He smiled, remebering every detail.

The love in your eyes. The trembling of your legs as you wrapped them against his waist. How you cried out to the heavens, giving thanks for meeting him.

“You had to marry me,” you teased. “To make an honest woman of me.”

“An honor I happily took.”

“I love you Kilian.”

“I love you too (Name).”

The two of you spent the remainder of the night reminiscing about your lives together. The blessing it was.

#orc x reader #orc x human #orc smut #orc husband #monsterfucking nsft

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star-xxx1 · 4 months

Text

Soft! Abby anderson Hc's

Sfw and Nfsw

Sfw:

Abby treats you like a teddy bear. She'll hold you all day long, not letting you escape her muscular arms. When you try to get up for the day, you're met with 'mh.' She groans as she shoves you back into her front. Or she'll roll onto you, crushing you, comfortably, so you can't get up.

Abby likes to have your company even when you or are she's doing the smallest of things. She's reading? She needs you next to her, she'll read to your or just give you sight loving glances as you rest your head against her shoulder, on your phone. Her big hand comes to rest on your thigh. Are you cooking? Here comes her big amrs around your waist. Pooing? Knock. Knock. "Baby! Hurry up." She whines.

Abby always sends you silly, stupid things. You'll wake up with a lot of messages from her when she's at work. 'Look at this' or 'Reminds me of you', and it'll be a little gremlin terwking.

Abby spoils you, but she likes to spend most of her money on arts and crafts. You love doing them together. Sitting on, her lap at the table as you both make little cute things chatting and listening to music.

Abby is a lana listen. After all, she is just a girl. (Definitely not a mass murder) she loves laying in between your legs onto your soft tummy as you brush and braid her long, beautiful hair.

Abby loves giving and receiving massges her big muscles can get tight and sore it's up to you to solve it, delicate hands on her big soft body, and for you, she knows you get stressed or overwhelmed at times and her hands soothing on you helps and calms you so much.

Abby loves when you run into her arms. The smile of your cute face, she would kill for. Along Your scent, your arms in Genral wrapping around her, just everything about you. It's not like you both are unhealthy obsessed with each other, right? (Yeah, you guys totally are) At the end of the day, you're all she needs, all she could ever want. She needs you to live and function without, well she wouldn't even dare think about that.

Nsfw:

Abby straps rubs deliciously against her raw puffy clit as She pounds your greedy cunt. You love her whimpers and tiny moans as she desperately chases after her high, abusing your twitching hole. The view of such a strong woman on top of you struggling to keep her composure is the most intoxicating thing you have ever seen. "Hm, f'uck baby." she slurs her words so drunk on pleasure. Like a bitch in heat.

Abby loves fucking you till your heads a mess. Your face buried in the pillow, your little cries, she soothes you. She knows your limits and won't push them. You can take some oversimulation. "Shhh, precious girl, you can take it, take it for your abs." She cooes into your ear, strap buried so deep inside, smothering your cervix with kisses.

Abby sometimes needs to be put in her place. You'll tie her down to the bed and eat her out for hours, her muscular thighs shaking around your head, squeezing you so tight you think your head might explode. But you loved it and her moans when you fuck her with the strap on is so sweet to hear.

Abby and you love praise and constantly praise each other through sex, holding each other close during or after. She adores the hickeys she leaves on your neck and the firey red scratches you leave on her back. You both would look like you had a fight to death as soon as you exited the bedroom. All because of your passion.

Abby's holds onto your waist her legs keep yours open as she play with your pussy, all messy and swollen. She whispers into your ear about her love for you. All you can do is mindlessly nod as she continues to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, your juices flowing out onto the bed.

She's soft when she knows you need it and you're the same for her. All you both want to do is pleasure each other. Slow cuddle sex is one of her favourites. Deep thrusts, as she holds you close, sloppily making out with you. It's definitely one of her favourites and a regular.

Aftercare is so important, and you both love cleaning together and cuddling. You guys would both offer water and food depending on who is fucked out. But the sleep after is great. Knowing you'll forever be in her arms is the most comforting thing you've ever known, and you love it.

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby smut #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby x y/n #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #tlou2 #tlou

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 5 days

Text

What is Broken IV (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader) FINALE

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: traumatic childbirth, blood, semi-suicidal thoughts, Aemond is fantasizing about murder again, all the angst

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: I don't understand why, but thanks so much for all the support I've gotten from this horribly angsty fic! This is my first go at angst so I really appreciate it. I'm gonna work on two happy-ish fic chapters before I get started on When It Breaks, but it's coming...

And a huge, enourmous thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @ripdragonbeans for being my betas for this! I was so anxious about getting this absolutely right and they were so kind and encouraging. Love yall forever 💜💜💜

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

She was so light, his ābrazȳrītsos.

Even while carrying their children – their sons – Aemond swore she was lighter than when he left. He held her close to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and her legs draped over his forearm. With every step, he could feel more of the liquid that had spilled from her womb - now mixed with small, hateful tendrils of blood - dampening his sleeve.

Gods, how much blood had he seen in the past year? How much had he spilled himself? There had even been times when he reveled in its metallic tang. But the sight of her blood was nothing less than abhorrent.

He ran faster, until he could not make out the faces of those he passed, shouting for a Maester to be sent to their chambers immediately. One of them must be a servant. With luck, the Maester would already be there when they arrived.

She cried out as he began to ascend the stairs, wincing with each step, her weak grip on him tightening. “It hurts, Aemond.”

“I know, my love.” He slowed down, though his pounding heart urged him to do just the opposite. “I’m so sorry. The maester will be here soon, and he’ll help you feel better, hmm?”

“He has to stop it. It’s too early,” her voice cracked, and Aemond’s heart with it. “They’re not ready!”

But it couldn’t be stopped, not by man or gods. Their children would be born today. The only question was whether they would survive. If their mother would survive. Her poor body was so weak, and her heart… he had broken that, too.

If any of them died today, that blood would be on his hands, and he would gladly accept his damnation to the worst of the seven hells.

“Come now,” he chided gently as they reached the corridor to their chambers. “Our sons are dragons – they will be strong. And so will you, ābrazȳrītsos.”

“Sons?” She lifted her head, her entire body trembling with the effort it took. Her eyes – those beautiful eyes now gilded by the setting sun outside the windows – locked with his. “How… you sound so sure.”

Just one more lie. One more, and then he would never lie to her again.

Besides, this lie was small, nearly inconsequential. Many fathers insisted that their children would be sons until the child itself proved them wrong. It would be so easy for her to believe. The truth would hurt her – perhaps weaken her further. Aemond did not want her to hear Alys’ name. She should never have to even think of that witch ever again.

But he could not bring himself to do it. He could not sully the birth of his sons with yet another lie. He pushed their door open with a shoulder, never breaking her gaze. “Alys told me after you left. Before… she had a vision of us holding our sons. I’m so sorry, love.”

She slumped again, her face dropping into the curve of his neck. Once, she kissed him there, slept with her head tucked there. Now, it was simply where her head lolled. “I’m glad it’s sons. You’ll have two heirs…”

Her words were cut short by a gasp of pain, but Aemond heard it clearly. It echoed in his very bones. So if I live, you’ll have no more need of me. The gods had just crumbled the ground beneath him, his heart and soul with it. He was falling, falling, falling…

“I am glad, too.” He set her down gently in the bed, brushing away several tangles of hair stuck to her sweaty brow before arranging the pillows around her, hoping he was adequately managing to hide his devastation. For he could not bear to be without her, could not bear to love her only from a distance. He would go mad. Yet he would happily accept that horrible fate if it meant he would not lose her to the Stranger. “Mother will be, as well.”

“Mother!” She tried to rise, but he held her softly to the bed. “I can’t do this without Mother, Aemond. We must return home immediately!”

“I am afraid that is not an option, Princess.” Maester Artos stood just within the doorway, maids and Septas streaming in behind him. He was a mountain of a man, better suited to the battlefield than the birthing bed. But he was good at what he did – very good. Aemond had seen him work miracles on men who should have never survived their injuries.

The moment the women began attending to his wife, he approached the Maester, speaking quietly so as not to frighten her. “Something is wrong, Artos, she is bleeding. And she’s very weak.”

Artos hardly acknowledged him, looking only at the princess lying in the bed. “The blood is not the problem. She is distressed and too thin.” He stated, as cold and clinical as all other Maesters.

“Yes, I know that already.” Aemond took a shaky, calming breath. He did not like the way Artos observed her, as if she was a thing to be studied rather than a woman – a princess. Perhaps when it was all over, he’d kill the man for it. “I fear she is not strong enough to survive this.”

She cried out behind them. Two maids were pressing damp cloths to her forehead. Another was hastily braiding her hair back. A Septa had begun cutting away her dress, leaving her only in her chemise as two more maids removed her slippers and stockings. Two other Septas knelt by the windows, praying, while one woman who seemed to be neither maid nor Septa laid metal and wood instruments atop a tall, thin table.

It took every ounce of Aemond’s self-control not to go to her. To shove away each woman because it should be him – and him alone – to touch his wife while she was so vulnerable. He should be the one to protect her, but he couldn’t. He could only hurt her, it seemed.

“Artos!” Aemond hissed.

“Is her spirit weak as well?” There was suspicion in his dark eyes. The same he’d shown when he confirmed Alys was carrying a child. If he hadn’t been so proficient a healer, Aemond might have killed him then.

But for now, Aemond was glad Artos was alive. He swallowed, avoiding looking back at the bed as his wife continued to whimper and moan. “Yes.” The maester just hummed before approaching the bed. Aemond followed, kneeling at the bedside, the maids immediately clearing away.

“This is Maester Artos, ābrazȳrītsos.” She stared wide-eyed at the hulking mass of the man who now knelt between her legs. Aemond tugged on her hand, her gaze snapping back to him. “I know him well. He’s going to take very good care of you, I promise.”

She shuddered, her eyes closed tight as she squeezed Aemond’s hand so hard he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He delighted in it. She was not as weak as he thought, thank the gods. If she needed to break every bone in his hand – in his body – to live through this, he would let her do so without complaint.

“Are you going to stay with me?” she asked, her voice already ravaged by screaming.

Aemond blinked. When they first learned they were to have a child, he swore he would. But now, it seemed impossible for her to want him there. Not after what he’d done. “Do you… want me to stay?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but another moan of pain. Her eyes darted all over his face. The longer she stayed silent, the further Aemond’s stomach dropped, and his heart ached.

“I believe it wise to have the prince wait outside,” Artos said decisively.

Aemond felt her hand slide out of his, the sensation the same as if he were falling from Vhagar’s back—her answer.

He nodded, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he leaned over her and kissed her forehead, trailing a hand down her cheek. “I love you.”

As he walked to the door, he still held a little shred of hope in his heart, waiting to hear her say it back.

It never came.

The moment the door shut behind Aemond, she regretted sending him away. She wanted to call him back so she wouldn’t be alone with so many strangers. But panic began to set in as the maids pulled her gently down the bed, and her voice failed her.

“It won’t be long now, princess,” the maester said, but she found no comfort in it. She couldn’t even remember his name. Alton? Alyn? Amos? Aemond had said he trusted him, but…

But that meant he had been here when Aemond was with Alys. And that glint of pity in his eyes, not just for her conditions, but for what he knew. He knew. Seven Hells, he’d probably been the one to care for Alys and her pregnancy.

Alys. Alys, Alys, fucking Alys!

She did not know what to think of the woman who had stolen so much from her. Had she stolen it, or had Aemond given it? She could hardly make sense of what she’d learned in that dreary little room.

Alys was not the evil, scheming witch she had first imagined. But neither was she innocent in the affair, not wholly. She was not remorseful for her actions, but she apologized for hurting her. She had been kind.

Blinding pain shot through her, and she screamed. Wordless and desperate, her only outlet for release. She needed to scream, needed to roar, needed to breathe fire. Anything to distract from this. Gods, she even wished for a moment for Alys to be there, holding her hand. At least then, she could return some of that pain.

“Princess,” the maester said, though he sounded far away. Though it was more likely that her shouting was drowning him out. “Very soon, I will ask that you push. Do you know how, your highness?”

Push. That’s what the septas had instructed Helaena to do at the birth of her twins and for Maelor. She even had vague memories of the word from when she peeked through the open door to her mother’s chambers when Daeron was born. But what it meant and how to do it?

Her confusion must have been apparent, for the maester continued. His voice was frustratingly calm and steady. “It is fine if you do not, princess. You must simply follow your instincts. When you feel the urge, push the child outward with all your might.”

“I have no might.” She heard herself laughing through tears and only then realized she was crying. Someone took her hand – she didn’t know who. But the feeling of another’s skin on hers was heavenly.

“You have carried these babes for months,” the maester – Artos! that was his name – said gently, “while your husband and the realm were at war. In my estimation, you are the mightiest woman in Westeros.”

She felt nearly every muscle she had tense, turning her answering grateful smile into a grimace. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have weathered her pregnancy as well as a paper boat in a storm. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not still love her husband after he betrayed her. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have let her emotions weaken her or put her children’s lives in danger.

She was far from the mightiest woman in Westeros, and she could not do this. She wasn’t strong enough. She was only a weak and broken little girl.

A maid approached, a fresh cool, damp cloth in her hands. The princess had not looked at any of their faces, too absorbed in her pain and panic. But now, she caught the eyes of this girl—deep, rich brown, so similar to her own – to her mother’s.

“I want my mother,” she whispered to the maid, even knowing it was impossible. “I can’t do this without her.”

The maid gaped at her as if she could not fathom a princess ever speaking to her. She looked to her companions for guidance, but the princess only looked into the maid’s eyes and thought of her mother—the scent of the rosemary oil she used in her hair, the warmth of her embrace, and the soothing tones of her voice.

“Please, I want my mother,” she begged. A new surge of pain gripped her, radiating into her legs. They were coming faster now; she barely had time to breathe between each wave. “Please.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness.” The maid’s voice was high and breathy, nothing like her mother’s. “The queen is not here.”

She cried, turning away from those false eyes. She was alone – entirely and utterly alone.

“Princess, I need you to be strong now.” Artos’ sweaty brow was furrowed with half a dozen creases, his eyes wide and mouth a firm line. He looked more like a commander on a battlefield than a maester. The Grand Maester would have smiled at her, but he was not here, either. “Your labors are progressing quickly. It is nearly time to push.”

“I don’t know how,” she cried. She refused to open her eyes. If she kept them closed, she could almost imagine she was home.

Artos wrapped his hands around her ankles, pushing them upwards and further apart. “You do, princess. The Mother wove the knowledge into your body. Listen to it, and all will be well.”

“I – ”

Her next scream rattled the room, the keep, the entirety of the Riverlands.

Fire, ice, steel, and claw seemed to rake down her spine to her thighs. But Artos was right; her body reacted to the pain, her muscles moving near-unconsciously to force the babe out of her womb. She followed the instinct, pushing it harder, harder, harder.

“Very good, princess!” Was that Artos or Orwyle? She couldn’t tell anymore.

It was never-ending.

Pain, pushing, and a brief moment of reprieve.

Again.

It lasted hours, days, perhaps even years.

Was a child – a son – even worth this pain? How could she love someone who had tortured her so? Would she ever be able to look at him without remembering how she suffered?

Pain.

PAIN.

Then –

“Stop, princess!”

She went limp, vaguely beginning to feel other sensations creep in: the coolness of the water on her forehead, the slight scratching of the sheets beneath her, and the hushed whispers of the maids and midwives.

The pain was still there, but softer. Less insistent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice nearly unrecognizable, even to her.

Artos emerged from between her legs, relief painted over his harsh face. “Nothing is wrong, princess. It is simply time to be gentle and allow your body to do its work.” He smiled, chuckling under his breath. “I can see your babe’s white hair – quite a bit of it.”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat. Deep, joyous laughter. Another slight wave of pain passed through her, but she didn’t care at all. She was thinking about her niece and nephew, how Jaehaerys was born with nearly a full mane of silver frizz while Jaehaera had not a single hair on her head until she was over a year old. “He has hair?”

“Yes, although I do not know yet whether it is a boy, princess.”

“It is. He is.”

There was one more brief surge of pain, and then she heard her son cry.

It was torture to wait outside while his ābrazȳrītsos screamed with pain. At first, Aemond stood leaning against the wall, as Aegon did when Helaena began her labors, but his knees failed him when he heard a scream that rattled the world.

He’d been on the floor since, resisting the urge to cover his ears. But he had caused her this pain, so he must listen.

He would be in that room with her if he hadn’t been a weak, damnable fool. He would have held her hand, letting her release her pain onto him. She had only squeezed his hand once, yet he still felt the ghost of her touch on his skin. He would savor that pain for the rest of his life.

It seemed to be never-ending, the torture his son was inflicting upon her. How could he ever forgive the child for doing this to his own mother?

Then, it stopped.

Aemond leaped to his feet, panic infecting his blood like a disease. Why had she gone quiet? What was wrong? Was she dead? He couldn’t face –

A babe cried—his first cry, with his first breath.

Their son.

He tried to push the door open, but it was locked.

“Let me in!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the door. “Artos, let me in!”

There was no answer, but he could hear soft voices inside. None sounded like hers. Oh gods, had she brought their son into the world at the cost of her own life?

Aemond slammed himself against the door again and again, not caring for the damage he was doing to his own body. “Open the door now, Artos!”

He threw himself against the wood again and again. At some point, it had to yield. Either it would, or his body would.

It opened just before he launched himself at it again—not all the way, but it was open. Then, Artos stared at him through the gap with his hateful, disapproving gaze.

“Let me in,” he growled. Trying to force the door open was useless, as the maester was practically a giant and, apparently, throwing all his strength into holding it closed. “If you don’t let me see my wife, I swear I’ll – ”

“Your wife has not finished her labors yet, my prince.” Damn him, the mountainous bastard. “But I am pleased to inform you that she has borne you a son.”

Though he knew it was to be a son, the words still shot through him. A son. His son. Their son.

“Is he healthy? Is she?” There was no more fight in his voice. The warrior prince had vanished, replaced only by the husband and father. By all the gods, he was a father.

Artos nodded. “The boy is small but healthy. Your maester may have miscalculated the date of conception. He is remarkably healthy for being born so early.”

“And my wife?”

“She is tired, but well. The second babe is not quite ready to emerge, so she is resting.”

The weight of all the world was lifted from his shoulders. He felt like the little boy he had once been on Driftmark, wanting nothing more than to see his zaldrīzītsos and take comfort in her embrace. “May I see her? Please.”

“I’m afraid not, my prince.” Artos at least had the decency to sound genuinely apologetic. “She needs this rest. With the first birth, she was wonderfully strong, more than I could have ever imagined. But I fear she has depleted her strength. She fell asleep the moment it was done.”

“Is… is it bad that she fell asleep?”

Artos sighed, his eyes turning to the floor. “Ordinarily, no, but with how thin she is, how weak… it worries me.”

No. No, no, no. “Is there anything you can do? To help strengthen her?”

“I am afraid not, my prince.”

“Well, do something. Do whatever you can.”

A soft moan came from behind the door. Ābrazȳrītsos. Aemond pushed against the door, opening it as far as he could to try and catch the barest glimpse of her.

Her eyes were nearly closed, her reddened cheeks making them appear as dark as night. Her chemise was soaked through with sweat and whatever other fluids came out with their child. But no blood beyond what he already knew to be there.

“Ābrazȳrītsos! I’m here!” He shouted. It took a moment for her to look his way. He could have sworn she smiled. “I’m with you! You must be strong, my love. I know you can be. I love you! I love you so much, ñuha zaldrīzītsos!”

Artos pushed against the door, forcing Aemond back. “That is enough, my prince. Upsetting her will only drain her strength.”

Aemond knew it was true, that his presence would likely upset her rather than comfort her. So, he stopped resisting and allowed the maester to close the door. Just before it closed, he whispered one final command, “Take care of her, Artos. She is my world.”

The pain returned, worse than before. The lightning crept down her spine again, but it was now accompanied by a great force set on tearing her body apart at the seams. Pushing brought no relief, nor did it seem to move her son any closer to the world.

Artos came to her bedside, resting the back of his hand against her brow.

“It’s worse this time,” she confided in the maester when it finally ebbed. “It’s so much worse. Why?”

He sighed and sat on the bedside, his massive hand nearly eclipsing her head as he stroked her hair. It made her feel remarkably like a kitten. “I cannot say, princess. There are many possibilities. This child could be larger, in a slightly different position, or…” He hesitated. “As I said, there are too many possibilities for me to be sure.”

His pause unsettled her, but it soon faded away when another wave went through her. “Is he nearly ready? I can’t do this much longer.” At least she knew what to do this time, so surely it would be better.

“Ah, another son, is it?” Artos stood from the bed to examine her spread legs. Several maids gently moved her to replace the sheets beneath her. “Not yet, but soon. Your motherly instincts will tell you when.”

Motherly instincts. Gods, she was a mother now. There was a child on the other side of the room that she had given birth to, that she had grown within her. A son who would depend on her for his entire life. Her, and his father.

Aemond would be a good father, she knew, even if he were decidedly lacking as a husband. But as a father, he would be attentive, kind, and loving. He would give their sons all the love he was denied by their own father.

They would not repeat the mistakes of the past. They would love their sons. They would not ignore them, speaking to them only to scold them. They would teach them the language of their ancestors themselves instead of relying on tutors. As soon as they were old enough, they would teach them how to be compassionate and fair rulers. They would not force them to marry for political advantage or the continuation of the bloodline but let them fall in love, as they had.

She could see them now. Both with white hair and unruly curls. Bright lilac eyes. The elder would take after her, but with Aemond’s determination. The younger would take after their father but with her gentle temperament.

As if the vision was summoning her second son, she felt her body constricting, muscles tightening. Without fear, she began to push.

“Princess, stop!”

Artos screamed as if someone was holding a sword to his throat, desperate and panicked. His eyes were wide and bulging as he looked from her face to where her second son should be emerging. “You mustn’t push now, princess. Not once. I…”

He stood, pulling one of the Septas aside. Others followed, and their frantic, poorly hushed whispers grew louder. She knew the sight should frighten her, but she forced herself to remain calm. Aemond said he trusted this man and had seen him work miracles. Whatever was wrong, Artos would fix it.

She was sure.

Artos burst out of the door without warning. Aemond pushed away from the wall. “Is it over?”

The maester sighed.

Shit. Seven Hells and all the Gods.

“Your wife is strong, my prince,” he began. Holy gods, he sounded as if he would cry. “Enough so that I would have little doubt that she could deliver your second child, but…”

“What’s wrong?” Aemond felt his heart race, his blood surge, his finger twitching for his sword. He was going into battle, but this was not a battle he could fight with steel or fire. This was not a battle he could fight at all. “Artos?”

“The babe is not in the right position.” He moved his hands as if it would somehow make Aemond understand what he was saying.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the babe cannot be born, your highness.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything she had suffered and survived.

“If she were to continue her labors, neither she nor the child would live.” Artos put a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at comfort. “I can save only one. Who survives… that is your decision, my prince.”

The gods were cruel to force this upon him – the very choice that had damned their family decades ago when Viserys chose to sacrifice his wife and queen for the chance at a son. That was where the seeds of destruction had been sown.

Aemond could not repeat the mistakes of the past. He would not be like his father. He had his son and heir. A second would be preferred, but not at the cost of his ābrazȳrītsos.

His ābrazȳrītsos, whose heart would break to lose her son. Who would never forgive him if he decided to –

He couldn’t choose. He couldn’t let her die, and he couldn’t let their son die.

He couldn't live without her, and he couldn’t take away her will to live.

He tore himself out of Artos’ grasp and stormed into the room.

Aemond threw open the door, his eyes wide and wet, and suddenly, she was not so sure that Maester Artos would fix whatever was wrong.

He ran to the bed, not sparing a glance at their new son. She burst into sobs the moment he took her in his arms. “Oh, ābrazȳrītsos,” he whispered into her hair as he kissed her temples. She entwined her fingers with his, desperately squeezing. “I’m here now. Everything is going to be fine.”

Liar. Sweet Liar. Beloved Liar.

“I want Mother. I want Helaena.” Her voice crackled with tears and exhaustion. Everything hurt. Someone – most likely her – was crying, though it sounded distant. And if Aemond was here, not waiting outside…

If Aemond was here, holding her hand and stroking her hair, it meant something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“Mother is not here right now,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t meet her gaze. “And Helaena… she can’t be here. I’m so sorry.”

“She told me she would hold my hand like I did for her. She promised!”

“I know. I know, my love, but it is not possible.”

Because Helaena was dead. So were Daeron, and Jaehaerys, and Jaehaera, and Maelor, and Otto, and Ser Criston, and nearly every other person she loved. Aegon would be dead soon, too, then she would only have her mother and her husband.

Her mother, who had begged her to forgive the husband who betrayed her and broken her heart.

“I can’t do this alone, Aemond. I can’t.”

“You can, I know it. You are so strong, dearest.” Yet there was no confidence in his voice.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear his hair out just to make him hurt, too. “I can’t! I’ll die if you make me, Aemond, I know it. I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.”

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. “My love, I…” his voice faded, leaving them in total silence, save for that distant crying.

Then, he kissed her—not the soft kisses on the temple or head of the past fortnight, but the way he had kissed her when he said goodbye all those months ago. His lips slotted against hers perfectly, and she opened for him on instinct. She knew she should stop, push him away, and scold him, but she couldn’t.

Everything felt wrong—her entire body felt wrong. But this, kissing Aemond, felt right. Her desperation for comfort far overpowered her anger and resentment. Her trembling hand rested on his shoulder, her fingers bunching in his shirt. She pulled him closer, wanting more—more rightness, more connection, more feeling.

More Aemond.

But he pulled away, resting his brow against hers as she chased his lips again. He placed a hand on either side of her face, holding her still. “I’m going to fix this,” he rasped, his voice shredded by fear and desperation. “I will fix this, I swear.”

Then, he let go.

He stood from the bed and turned away from his wife.

He was leaving. He was fucking leaving her.

She screamed his name, cursed him, begged him to come back, hurled insults, and cried for him. He couldn’t do this to her, not after everything he’d already done.

This was not love. The heat that burned in her chest was not love.

It was hate.

For the first time in her life, she truly hated Aemond.

“Alys!” Aemond bellowed as he descended the stairs to the servant’s quarters, taking the steps two, three at a time. No one dared approach him. Not even Artos had tried to stop him as he ran away from his ābrazȳrītsos.

She may hate him forever for this, for leaving her when she was so weak and scared.

Fine. It would be worth it.

“ALYS!” The door snapped from its upper hinge as he tore it open. The witch was precisely where she’d been when Aemond left, her hand on her chin as she looked into the fire. What vile hell did she see in her visions now? “Alys!”

“I heard you, Aemond.” She did not look at him, only staring at the flames, those green eyes flitting around as if she were reading a book. “The entire continent heard you.” There was no humor in her voice, no hint of a smile on her face.

He swallowed, panting. He was crying – weeping like a little boy. That didn’t matter now. Very little mattered now.

Aemond fell to his knees before the witch with whom he had destroyed his life. He would do whatever she asked, destroy what little was left of his pride if necessary. “I need your help, Alys. Please.”

“She’s dying?”

“Yes. The maester said I had to… that I had to choose who to save.”

“And you can’t choose between her and the child.”

“No, I – ” he swallowed as his voice shattered. He was going to vomit. “I can’t, Alys. I can’t. Please.”

“What is it, exactly, that you want me to do?” She was colder than the Wall, than the entirety of the lands beyond it.

“Save them, both of them.”

Alys’ eyes narrowed. Her face was painted with an expression he had never seen. He had no clue what it meant. “What would you sacrifice,” she asked flatly, “to ensure your wife and her children – your true heirs – live?”

“Anything,” Aemond croaked, “Everything.”

One corner of her sinful mouth lifted in a way that did not bring him comfort. She sighed as if taking the time to thoroughly consider his plea. The wicked bitch was gleefully stalling when the lives of his wife and child could end at any moment.

“Please, Alys,” he begged again, desperation crawling through his veins like spreading ice. “I cannot live without her, and she will never recover from her grief if she loses the babe.”

Something passed over her face, and she smiled fully. “You have always been a man of loyalty and nobility, Aemond.” Her grin sharpened as she laid one delicate hand upon her belly. “Almost always, at least.”

“Alys,” he growled in warning.

“Oh, don’t be a beast about it,” she scoffed. “I will do it – save them. If only in memory of our time together.”

Aemond sagged as relief swept through him, but it did not last long. She was still dying. The babe was still dying. Whatever Alys would do, she needed to do it now. He opened his mouth to command her to start, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I promise it will be done.” She flung her hand to the door in dismissal. “You should be there for her. She is still so very frightened.”

He needed nothing more to run back to his wife.

She was alone. Even with Maester Artos and the dozen women hovering around her, even with her son cooing softly from the cradle by the window, she had never felt so alone.

Aemond was gone.

He’d left her. Without even a goodbye, he’d left her. He had not even stopped to meet his son.

Artos murmured something to one of the Septas, who quickly gathered the other women on the far side of the room. He approached the bed, again seating himself upon the edge, and pressed the back of his fingers to her brow briefly before petting her hair. “How are you feeling, princess?”

“Am I going to die?”

He hesitated in answering. “I cannot say for certain…”

“I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.” Her heart constricted as his fingers brushed against a spot where Aemond had kissed her. “You told him, now tell me.”

“Very well,” he sighed. His harsh face fell, and she swore she could see his eyes glistening. “The babe is breech. It should emerge head-first, but it is not. It’s… the way it is attempting to come out is nearly impossible. Should I not intervene, one or both of you will die.”

No. No, no, no, it wasn’t fair. To suffer for this long, to endure what she endured, only for her child to enter the world wrong? In a way that would kill them? She had always been good and devout. She prayed and studied holy texts, listened to her Septas and the Maesters, and avoided sin at all costs. Then why was she being punished?

Unless… the gods had not sent this to punish her.

Aemond had abandoned her and their marriage – their holy union – when he slept with Alys. It would be fitting, and very like the gods, for him to lose that which he had forsaken. She and her second son were merely instruments of punishment. But it wasn’t fair.

“There is nothing you can do?” She felt hollow as Artos continued to look at her in pity.

The warrior-maester looked as if he were about to cry, as well. “In these situations, it is usually asked of the father whom he would rather save.”

So that was why Artos left the room – to ask Aemond whether to save her or the child.

“Who did he choose?” Either answer would devastate her. He would either prove the fragility of his love for her, or he would willingly break her heart by killing their son. Whatever he chose, he would become a kinslayer thrice over.

“He… he did not, your highness.”

“What?”

“I explained the situation, and he stormed in here – to you. When he left, he said nothing. He just ran. I presumed he had…” But he hadn’t. Had not said a word about the peril she and their son were now in.

A coward. Too frightened to maintain his vows of marriage. Too weak to admit his wrongdoing. Too cowardly to even make this most crucial of decisions. The gods damn him.

If they hadn’t already.

“So… what will you do?” If she had to be the one to make the decision, so be it.

“There are three options.” None of them were very good, she knew, simply by looking at his forlorn face. She had thought him a grave man when she first saw him. Now, he looked mournful – a reluctant harbinger of death. “I can forcibly remove the child, more than likely killing it in the process. I can attempt to save it and, in so doing, certainly kill you. Or we can proceed with the birth, risking killing both of you and pray that the gods may be merciful.”

Such a choice – a decision of life and death – should be difficult. It should tear away at the soul to condemn another. It should be far beyond the limits of the heart or mind.

But it was easy.

“Save him,” she whispered. “Let me die.”

Artos frowned deeply, shook his head, and said something in return, but she did not listen – she could not and would not hear his words. She only vaguely saw him move to the end bed, ripping away the sleeve of his robes as he barked orders at the maid and midwives. Perhaps the gods were merciful to dull her senses now so she could pass peacefully.

What did it matter if she died now?

She will have fulfilled her duty and given her husband his heirs. Finding a new wife would be easy – what woman would not want to marry him? Even if news of Alys spread beyond the walls of Harrenhal, surely it was nothing in exchange for a crown. Aemond would have everything he needed to be king.

If she lived, what sort of life would it be? To raise one son while constantly mourning the other. To be the wife of a man she could no longer trust. To remain empty, a shell of her former self. She would be alive, but she would still be a ghost.

“Save him,” she said again, her voice fading.

It was easier this way. Hadn’t she already learned that it was easier not to fight? Letting Aemond take care of her was easier than fighting him. Perhaps it would be easier to let him care for the children, too. He would love them enough that they would not feel her absence.

Distantly, she felt pressure between her legs, then heard her firstborn son cry out to echo her own screams.

Her son.

Oh, he had no name.

She couldn’t leave him motherless and without a name.

Months ago, she had decided on names, but they were hard to remember now. What was it? She could grant him this one last gift. She just needed to remember…

“Daeron.”

Yes. It had been her brother’s name. Her kind, brave, daring brother. He died some months ago. There had been a battle. Why was her little brother fighting? He was too young for that.

Tendrils of pale mist crept into the edges of her vision, playfully willing her to sleep.

Once she was gone, Daeron—her Daeron—would have a little brother, too. He would need a name as well—a strong name, a courageous name. When she was dead, he would need courage.

“Aenar.”

A strong name. With courage enough to forge a new beginning.

There. Names for her sons, the little princes.

With that last parting gift, she could close her eyes at last.

Goodbye, she tried to say.

I love you, my children.

Be kind to each other.

Love each other always.

Goodbye.

The mist filled her vision, illuminated by a distant light. It was cool, like a late spring morning. She did not hurt anymore. Did not feel anything but an overwhelming sense of peace.

The distant light faded.

The mist darkened.

Through it, she swore she could see grass-green eyes and hear the faraway cry of a babe.

She was still screaming. Good.

Screaming meant she was still alive. Screaming meant Alys was fulfilling her promise. Screaming meant that Aemond was racing back to his wife – his living, breathing, beloved wife – and not her corpse.

The door was still locked when he arrived—one final obstacle between him and his family.

No, not final. Far from it. The door was the only tangible thing keeping him from his wife and children, yes, but there was far more beyond it. The pain he caused her, the hatred his ābrazȳrītsos now surely felt for him, and the third child that would soon be born still kept them as far apart as the earth and stars.

They would get past it. They had to. They were siblings, husband and wife, now destined to become King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They were meant for each other. The gods or fate or whatever else had made her for him and him for her.

They were two parts of the same whole, cleaved.

“Prince Aemond.”

Cregan Stark, the man who humiliated him and his wife mere hours ago, stood behind him. Aemond snarled. “Leave. Now.”

Stark stood strong and still. “You have been my enemy. You may be still, I have not decided. I have no admiration nor respect for you, my prince. In short, I do not like you.”

“Do you want me to kill you?” Aemond asked. He did not wish to greet his sons with blood-soaked hands, but if Stark didn’t close his fucking mouth –

“To lose the woman you love so dearly in this way… it is a pain I know all too well and one I would not wish on anyone. I have instructed all my men to pray for the Princess and the child, and I will join them soon. Negotiations will be postponed indefinitely.”

“I…” Perhaps Aemond had underestimated the brute, if he was a brute at all. And though he knew the prayers were unnecessary, gratitude still dulled his rage. “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

He simply inclined his head and walked away, leaving Aemond leaning against that godsdamned door, listening to nothing but the sound of his own panting breath.

Oh gods.

He froze.

The screaming was gone.

It was silent.

Was she dead?

Had Alys betrayed him?

He would kill her. He would tear her apart with his own hands and –

A child cried.

Then…

Oh, thank each and every god a thousand times over.

For then, Aemond heard his wife laughing.

“Princess?”

She always expected that the voice of the Father would be deep and smooth, but shouldn’t it be the Mother to greet her, given how she died? And shouldn’t the gods greet her by name, not her title?

“Princess, it is time to wake up,” the voice said again. “Open your eyes for me.”

Oh, her eyes were closed. She should open them.

The Heavens were not as bright as she imagined, nor as golden. They were dark and sparsely decorated and looked very much like –

“I am not dead?”

Maester Artos looked down at her and smiled. It reminded her of the few times she had seen her father smile at her, sparking a warmth in her chest she had not felt for years. She had not known she still remembered those smiles. “I am very happy to say you are not, your highness.”

“But, my son – ”

“He lives, too.”

It couldn’t be. After all the suffering of the past year, she could not believe it could be true. Loss had become a certainty, as sure as the sun rising each morning.

A babe cried, and she turned toward the sound. A young maid was wrapping an infant boy with a shock of white curls in a cobalt blue blanket. Daeron.

A different, softer cry came from the other end of the room. There, another boy with only a smattering of silver wisps atop his head was being gently cleaned by a Septa. Aenar.

Her sons – alive and well and here.

She threw her head back against the pillows and laughed.

She laughed with joy and relief, with eight months of eager waiting and sickness. She laughed with a body nearly dead, saved only by some miracle she did not understand. And she laughed with a heart that was both shattered and overflowing.

This was the moment she had dreamed of since she learned she was pregnant, since the moment she married Aemond. She had dreamed of this all her life. It was her destiny, even if it was vastly different from how she had dreamed it. For she was not at home in the Red Keep but within the cursed stones of Harrenhal. Her mother was not by her side but miles away. The family that was supposed to crowd around her and coo over the children were nearly all dead. And her husband…

“Let me in!” he shouted through the door, the wood pounding against stone as he threw himself against it. He had been doing that before, but she did not notice until now. It was so like him, the impatience and need to act, that she laughed again. “Ābrazȳrītsos! Is that you? Tell me you are safe!”

Taking her laughter as permission, Artos opened the door. It was mere heartbeats later that Aemond was upon the bed, his eye flitting over every inch of her, his hands roaming to try and locate something wrong, to stem blood that did not flow or relieve pain that did not exist.

“I’m fine,” she said, breathless. “I did it, lēkia, and I’m fine.”

“You did it?” He looked down at her in utter disbelief and joy before his eye drifted to the Maester. Tears slipped from his eye and caught the light of the setting sun. “She did it…”

Her gaze went to the maid that held her firstborn – the girl with eyes like her mother’s. Fitting, for her to be the one to hold him. But it was her turn. “Bring Daeron to me,” she ordered,” some strength at last returning to her voice. “I want to hold him.”

Aemond stared at her. “Daeron?”

Was he angry that she named their sons without him? She couldn’t quite tell. Her mind was still fuzzy, like the mist she had seen still lay over her, casting everything in a sweet, happy light. She shrugged. “There are already too many Aegons, so…”

He laughed. She had missed that sound – she loved it so dearly. He settled into the bed next to her, their bodies fitting together perfectly, like two halves of a broken plate. So many familiar feelings – the warmth of his arm around her, the rhythm of his heart, his lips kissing her temple in the gentle way that always sent shivers down her spine. Hadn’t her spine hurt not long ago? “Daeron is perfect.”

Indeed, he was absolutely perfect. So tiny and precious as he was put in her arms, looking up at his parents with wide lilac eyes. Neither she nor Aemond said anything as they beheld him, taking in each tiny, perfect detail. The wild curls of his silver hair. Each and every eyelash framing his bright eyes. The pink of his lips. Fingers and toes so wonderfully soft and small. A toothless smile that lit the world.

“He’s going to be king someday,” she realized aloud. How could someone so tiny rule an entire kingdom? He had a lot of growing to do before the Conqueror’s Crown would fit.

“A great king, I think,” Aemond mused. He held out a finger, and Daeron instinctively wrapped his hand around it. “Wise and strong. Daring, like his namesake.”

“He must be kind, too.”

“He will be,” Aemond assured, brushing out her damp, tangled hair with his fingers. The feeling was so familiar, but each touch had her flinching slightly. “We will raise him to be kind. His brother, too.”

“Aenar.”

Aemond stiffened. Had he forgotten they had another son, or did he not like the name she gave him? He pulled his finger back from his son’s fist to touch the babe’s hair. “The Exile?”

“I just thought…” Perhaps it had been a foolish name. But it had felt right when it came to her, when she was on the brink of death. “Our family needs a new beginning.”

“Yes… I suppose it does.” He kissed her again with slightly too much pressure. “Another fine name.”

She looked at the Septa that had been cleaning him. Maester Artos stood with her now, along with several other women, crowding so much she could not see the babe. “I want to hold him, too. Bring him to me.”

None of them moved. The room fell silent.

“Allow me just a moment longer, princess,” Artos said. His voice shook, and he would not look at her or Aemond. “I am still finishing my assessment of the boy.”

He’s dead, her mind insisted. They saved your life at the cost of his. He died because of you.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

Daeron began fussing in her arms, disturbed by how she began to tremble. She failed one son by killing him, and now she was already failing as a mother to the one who survived. Aemond tightened his arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer as his free arm gently lifted their son into his own grasp.

He hushed her, ducking his head to press his cheek to hers. “Lykirī, ābrazȳrītsos. Izūgō daor īlo bēvili gō.” Calm, little wife. Do not panic before we have reason to.

“Kostan daor,” she whimpered. If Aenar was dead…

“Is he alive?” Aemond’s hand moved to shelter Daeron’s head as if to shield him from whatever danger or heartbreak lurked. She turned to press herself into him – into the safety of his arms.

Brother. Husband. Protector.

Why did the feel and scent of him no longer make her feel safe?

“Yes, my prince,” Artos answered.

“Will he remain that way?”

“Yes…”

“You could tell me he’s green-skinned and winged for all I care.” His arm curled protectively around her, but it did not comfort her. Rather, she bristled against it, the possessiveness of it. He did not notice. “He’s alive, and that’s enough. Bring him.”

Artos hesitated but obeyed, hastily wrapping the babe in a dark blanket.

He looked whole – unbroken. Aenar’s eyes were closed as the Maester placed him in her arms, but she could feel his warmth, his little heart beating, and the faint rise and fall of his chest. He only woke when a tear fell from her cheek onto his.

Even then, he did not cry. He only looked at his mother with bright eyes – the same shade of violet as his father's and brother’s. “Ñuha trēso,” she whispered, and he smiled. My son.

“Taobosa sylvȳse,” Aemond added. “He already recognizes the language of his ancestors. He will serve his brother well. Dārys sepār Ondoso zȳhon.” Wise boy. The King and his Hand.

They had two perfect sons. So why did Artos still look like that?

The Maester’s frown deepened. “I am afraid…” he cleared his throat. “It appears that the younger prince was injured during the birth.”

She examined him again but could find nothing wrong. He was perfect. Surely, Artos was mistaken.

“May I?” His large hand hovered over the edge of the blanket.

Her instinct was to pull away, to not let this man touch her son. Yes, he had saved both their lives, but he must be wrong now. Why should she let him make a problem where there was none?

She suppressed that instinct and allowed him to uncover Aenar’s right arm. Artos’ demeanor had made it seem as though something was horribly wrong – that the arm would be missing or deformed. But it was just an arm, small and plump and pale, with a splotch of reddish-purple covering the shoulder like a pauldron.

“It… is it a birthmark?” She brushed a thumb over it, the skin smooth but slightly raised. A birthmark wasn’t an injury, nor was it exceedingly unusual. There were several families where such a mark appeared on nearly every child born.

“Explain yourself, Artos,” Aemond hissed. He looked ready to tear the man to pieces. If he did, he would likely do so without even setting Daeron down.

With a sigh, Artos ran a finger down the length of Aenar’s arm. “Note how he gives no reaction.”

“So he is calm,” Aemond spat. “I fail to see the injury.”

“Do the same to the elder.” He repeated the touch. “Gently, my prince.”

Aemond obeyed with a scowl. The moment he touched the babe, Daeron squirmed and flailed his arm.

“But he looks fine.” She looked down at her second son, her wise boy, and held out a finger, as Aemond had with Daeron. Aenar’s left arm squirmed within its wrappings, but the right was still. She touched the arm, silently pleading with the gods for it to move, for that tiny hand to reach for her.

It remained still. A desperate noise escaped her. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aemond and Artos said in unison. Her husband attempted to pull her into his chest, but she pushed him away. An embrace could not fix this. Nothing could. He did not pursue her again.

“It is not uncommon among children born breech.” the Maester explained. “I have seen many such injuries and many even worse.”

Artos offered no sympathy or apologies, and she was thankful for it. There was nothing he could say to ease the pain of knowing that her son would never be whole, just like his father. But unlike Aemond, he was never even given the chance, wounded from his first breath. What would the people call him? ‘Prince Aenar One-Arm, son of King Aemond One-Eye?’

“What do we do?” She asked her husband, the Maester, the gods. Anyone who may have an answer.

Aemond’s face was drawn with grief – for his son and for himself. “He will adapt, as I did. I will ensure it. He will be stronger for this. I promise.”

I cannot trust your promises.

The thought was a sudden gale of icy wind scattering the lovely mist coating her mind into oblivion, leaving her with only stark, wicked reality and the faint memory of green eyes.

“How did I survive?”

Too quickly, Aemond turned to her, taking hold of her chin and pulling her close to him. “It does not matter, ābrazȳrītsos. All that does is that you are still with me. You and Aenar.”

If he wasn’t holding her firstborn, she would have shoved him from the bed.Liar. Liar. Liar.

I will fix this. he’d said before he left her. The pure, unrelenting anger she felt as she watched him leave had prevented her from considering what those words meant. Now, she could think of nothing else. What could he do? He was no midwife nor Maester. He had no knowledge of childbirth, beyond the few questions he’d asked of Orwyle months ago. What could he have done for her and Aenar except beg the help of another?

Of Alys.

Alys, who had eyes the color of fresh grass and possessed a dark magic that allowed her visions of the future. Was she also able to influence that future?

How?

At what cost?

What had Aemond promised her in exchange for their lives?

“No Maester wants to admit to ignorance,” Artos smiled sadly as Aenar continued to try to wriggle his left arm free of his blanket, “but I cannot explain it. All I can think is that the gods are kind to you, princess, and for that, I am glad.”

She could not look at him or any of the others in the room who watched her as if they could see the Mother’s hand upon her shoulder.

The gods weren’t kind. They were cruel to allow her to now owe her very life, and that of her son’s, to the two people who had destroyed her. Would she ever be able to look upon Aenar and not remember? To not feel her soul torn between unyielding hatred and infinite gratitude?

Yet, she had her life – and her sons. Surely anything was worth that.

Wasn’t it?

“I’m tired,” she said. The day had seemed to last a year, and the sun had not even set. “I want to rest now.”

After what she endured, no one argued.

His ābrazȳrītsos fell asleep mere moments after Daeron and Aenar were settled into their cradles. She did not even wake when Aemond lifted her so the servants could replace the soiled bedding. Just as she had so many times before, she tucked her face into his neck as they sat in the window, sighing contentedly. Now, he lay beside her in the bed, trying to memorize how it felt to have her in his arms.

When she woke, he knew she would never allow him to hold her like this again.

She knew. Somehow, his wife knew what he had done to ensure she and Aenar survived, and she would never forgive him for it for as long as she lived.

But she would live.

Aenar would live. Though he would bear the wounds of his father’s sins forever.

After his wife had fallen asleep, Maester Artos had told him that it would likely be necessary to amputate Aenar’s arm. The purple mark on his shoulder had grown, apparently indicating further bleeding within the limb. If it grew much more before morning, the arm would be removed before midday.

It was his fault, Aemond knew.

Alys had told him that in her visions, both boys had been healthy. But that was before his ābrazȳrītsos knew that he betrayed her. Before he brought her to this cursed place. Before he failed to stop her from meeting Alys and learning the full extent of his sins.

He only hoped Aenar would not grow to hate him for it.

For now, the boy slept in his crib, limp arm hidden beneath the dark blanket he was swaddled in. Aemond rose from the bed, moving closer to his son.

How peaceful he looked now, with the redness of his skin finally faded. He did not have as much hair as his older brother, but his was wilder - more reminiscent of his mother’s curls than his father’s straight locks. At least he had that part of her, if not the warm brown eyes Aemond had hoped for.

In the other cradle, Daeron fussed slightly, though he did not wake. It seemed he resented being confined within the tight swaddle of his blanket. The thought made Aemond smile, remembering how his younger brother once did the same. It faded quickly.

He had to go to Alys. To thank her for giving him his family - a kindness he did not deserve. To say goodbye to the child he would never meet. Another cost he would force himself to pay.

He had to go now, while his ābrazȳrītsos slept.

“Before our wedding,” he whispered, careful not to wake her as he approached, “I promised to hold you every night I could, that I would do anything to return to you when I was away. I have failed to uphold that promise, and for that, I am so sorry.”

When he stroked her cheek, she turned into his touch, a small smile upon her lips. Seeing that some unconscious part of her still reacted to him with love warmed his heart, even as the knowledge that her conscious mind would never allow her to do so felt like a dagger buried in his gut.

Aemond knelt at her side, basking in her beauty, memorizing her peaceful face. “Now, I swear my devotion again. I know you no longer wish for me to hold you, and I promise I will not try to persuade you otherwise. But I swear I will always be with you, to love and protect you, even if I must do it from a distance. I will never fail you again.”

It did not matter that she could not hear his vow. Even if she did, she would not believe him. But he made it anyway, for his own sake, and so the gods, wherever they may be, would hear him. It was to them he spoke next.

“Should I ever harm you again, I pray that the gods will strike me down where I stand. And if they do not, I shall do so myself.” He kissed her brow - the sealing of a promise and a farewell - and left.

A maid shrunk away as she passed Aemond in a corridor deep beneath Harrenhal, cradling the bundle of cloth she carried closer to her chest. It was one of the same maids who had tended to his wife—the young girl with deep brown eyes. She did not wear the clothing of a midwife, but the colors of her linen dress were similar. Perhaps a midwife in training.

Strange, then, for her to be here. Stranger still for her to be seemingly performing the duties of a laundress.

He glanced down at the bundle of cloth she carried and froze.

There was blood. Too much blood.

A young midwife, carrying bedlinens soaked with blood.

What would you sacrifice? Alys had asked.

Aemond ran.

He knew what he would find. There was no other explanation. Yet he still hoped and prayed he was wrong. Loss had followed him like a loyal dog for so long, but today it was banished. It must be.

Alys stood in front of her fire. One hand rested on a stomach that was not as distended as it had been only hours ago.

His wife’s stomach now looked very much the same.

“What did you do?” His voice shook with fear and guilt and shame. Gods, he felt so weak.

Her eyes, cold and distant, slid to his. “What you asked.”

“I didn’t ask you to…” This blood was on his hands - the blood of his child.

The word that had haunted him for more than a year - the word that had nearly led to the death of every person he ever loved - echoed in his mind.

Kinslayer.

Killer of his nephew. His uncle. His child.

Aemond looked back into the corridor, hoping to see the young midwife again. Had he not looked closely enough? Had she been carrying the body of his child within those bloody linens?

“I only wanted you to save my wife and son.” His words were a justification, a plea. It fell on the deaf ears of the gods and the dead child’s mother.

“And you thought there would be no cost?” Alys laughed, cruel and cackling. “No god in the world is so generous as to save a life and ask for nothing in exchange, boy.”

“I didn’t think – ”

“You never do.”

Grief morphed into anger. Reckless, aimless, dangerous rage. “You should have told me!”

“What would you have done?” She faced him fully now, her hand falling to her side. There was no trace of the woman who had once comforted and reassured him - who had kept him sane amidst the insanity of war. There was only annoyance and derision. It reminded Aemond of his dead half-sister and her bastard sons. “If I had told you?”

“I –”

“Would you have left your wife to die? Let her son die?” Alys’ lip curled in a hateful sneer. “You could not choose between wife and son, yet you believe you could have chosen between two sons?”

The world stopped. Only Alys’ flickering fire and burning eyes remained.

“I… it was a boy?” Aemond leaned against the wall, sliding down to his knees, savoring the scrape of the rough stone against his back. He deserved every bit of pain. More.

Alys let a single hint of sorrow slip through her cold façade. “It was. Three sons within a year. What your father would have given to have had the same.”

The last thing Aemond wanted to do was to think about his father. The king who had nearly destroyed his throne by choosing one child over another.

Gods, was he any better?

Did his ignorance of his son’s sacrifice absolve him of blame? The guilt?

It certainly didn’t feel like it.

Alys sighed. “Better for his death to mean something than for his life to be spent destitute and fatherless.”

“I would not have allowed that to happen,” Aemond said. It was a reflex, a reassurance he’d grown used to giving since he learned he seeded a bastard.

“Wouldn’t you? Perhaps if my visions had not changed. But now…” She shook her head, more exasperated than sorrowful. Did she mourn the child at all? “No. You’d have wanted us as far away as possible and done anything you could to not think of us.”

“I would have ensured your comfort.” The words felt as hollow as his chest.

“Your wife would, yes.” Alys smiled fondly, just as she had when his ābrazȳrītsos sat across from her earlier that very day. She had never smiled that way for Aemond. Never truly cared for him. He should have known. “She is kind-hearted. But not you. Your resentment of me, of us, would have festered until you found some way to be rid of us.”

He wanted to deny it. To say that there was nothing that could drive him to do what she insinuated. Once, it would have been true. But now, with the man he’d become in the war and how close he’d come to losing his heart itself, it would be a lie.

If he had killed Alys along with the rest of her cursed family, would he have become this man? Would he have learned to cherish the metallic tang of blood and its warmth as it coated his hands? Would he have become so proficient a liar that false words rolled off his tongue like a Valyrian lullaby? Would he have grown so accustomed to violence that it now came as naturally to him as loving his wife?

Would he have broken his ābrazȳrītsos’s heart?

He’d trusted her visions. It had been a mistake.

One mistake that led to thousands more, and it was all her fault.

Alys was the one who lied, who deceived him. Who had pulled his strings as if he were no more than a puppet, knowing that he was married and his wife was lonely and infirm.

His failure as a husband. His wife’s pain. The death of his third son.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

Aemond’s heart slowed, his breathing becoming deep and steady. No longer the heart of a broken boy or a desperate husband. Now, it was the blackened heart that had carried him through countless battles and raging rivers of blood.

“I will be rid of you now,” he hissed as he stood. “And I will be rid of you forever.”

The bitch had enough sense to look scared.

“In memory of the son you killed, I will allow you to live. But no more than that.” She didn’t even deserve that, this woman who did not mourn her own child. Perhaps it was good that the babe was gone, for surely he would have suffered with a witch as his mother.

He approached Alys, sneering down at her and the false bravery on her wicked face. “As Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I banish you from these lands forever. You have ten days to leave Westeros. After that, if you are ever seen here again…” He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, holding just tight enough to steal a bit of her breath - just enough to make her fight for it.

“I will kill you myself,” he promised. “Without hesitation or remorse, I will kill you. Slowly. And I will savor every moment, for it will bring me far greater pleasure than that withered cunt of yours ever did.”

She fell to her knees when he released her, clutching at her throat as she coughed and gulped for air. He didn’t care. He only turned on his heel and left, not sparing a single glance at the woman who had only hours ago been carrying his bastard child.

Only one woman mattered now, had ever truly mattered to him.

His ābrazȳrītsos was still asleep when he returned to their chamber, as were their sons. They had no idea where he had gone - that he had even left at all. No inkling of the fact that a moment ago, he had again become the man who wiped an entire bloodline from the earth, slaughtered tens of thousands, and delighted in the suffering he had wrought.

Now, as he leaned down to gently kiss his sons’ brows and muss their soft hair, he was a mere man of twenty, his heart bursting with love and affection for his family. How could a heart overflow with such love at the same moment it was fracturing with grief and regret?

It was a question far beyond him at that moment. Perhaps forever beyond his reach.

He was so tired. Too tired to consider the heartbreak that would come when he woke in the morning and his wife pulled out of his grasp. He could face that pain when it came. But now, he needed to feel whole, if only for a few hours.

So, Aemond climbed into bed with his wife, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her into his chest. He remained awake only long enough to kiss the top of her head and whisper, “Jāla tetan, ābrazȳrītsos. Īlon lentot selagon kosti.” It is over, ābrazȳrītsos. We can go home.

She woke to the sound of Daeron fussing. Strange how quickly she was able to tell them apart, even just by their little noises of discontentment. Although, considering she had been with them every moment of the last seven - near eight - months, it may not be strange at all. Perhaps that was why she felt so sure that it had been Daeron who occupied the top of her belly, constantly pestering her with his tiny fists pounding against her at the most inopportune times.

“Hush, little prince,” a soft voice said. “You’ll wake up your mother, and after what you and your brother put her through, I dare say she needs her rest.” A maid was speaking to him, a slight, old woman leaning over his crib. She had not seen the maid before, and somehow, it comforted her.

Daeron continued to grumble. She moved to stand but found Aemond’s arms wrapped around her waist. Thankfully, he was still asleep. Quite deeply asleep, apparently, for when she untangled herself from him, he did not wake.

The maid curtsied when she saw the princess approaching and stepped away from Daeron’s cradle. His fussing had now roused Aenar, but the younger prince made no sound, only glaring at his brother in what seemed to be intense displeasure at his sleep being interrupted.

“Is something wrong with him?” she asked the old maid. Daeron quieted slightly upon seeing his mother but still fussed.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, princess.” The old maid had a kind, soothing voice - that of a wise grandmother. She looked at the babes with fondness and a hint of apology. “They are simply hungry.”

“Where is the wetnurse?” She immediately regretted asking. In her sleepy haze, she had forgotten that Alys was the wetnurse at Harrenhal. Why wasn’t she here? Did she even want Alys here? No, of course she didn’t. Had Aemond requested another be found so she would not have to see Alys again?

The old maid looked away, sighing. “I’m afraid she’s left us. No wonder why, poor thing lost her babe again. Such a shame. We all thought she’d had a miracle with this one. But not to worry, Maester Artos sent some men to find another girl from the closest village.” She shook her head and again leaned over Daeron’s crib. “You’ll be fed soon, darling prince, don’t you worry.”

Alys’ child - Aemond’s child - was dead?

It was a good thing, wasn’t it? There would be no bastard son of the new king, no living reminder of what he’d done. This was good news. She should be happy, shouldn’t she?

But she wanted to cry.

“Mother, forgive me,” the old maid looked horrified as she clutched her pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star. “I should not have said that, princess. Not when you’ve only just finished your own labors. Please, forgive me.”

She glanced at Aenar, now peacefully asleep once more. How close she had come to losing him. It had devastated her. Made her willing to forfeit her own life if only he could live. If she had lost him and had to live with that loss… it would have driven her mad.

“How…” she licked her lips. “How many children has she lost?”

The old maid dropped her pendant. “I do not know, exactly. Enough that we all stopped counting.”

Oh gods. She blinked to clear her eyes, wiping away an errant tear with her thumb. “You said she’s gone?”

“Yes, princess. She left in the night. Didn’t say where she was going, to my knowledge.”

It made no sense. If Aemond had struck a bargain with Alys to save her and Aenar’s lives, why would she leave? Had whatever he offered her not been enough to keep her in the place where she’d lost so many children?

Daeron cried again, his face reddened and wrinkled. He was so hungry, she could nearly feel it herself. She… she could feel it. When she looked down at herself, she saw two dark stains on her chemise right above her breasts. Her milk had finally come in, which meant -

“I can feed them.”

The old maid looked aghast. “Princess, there is no need - ”

“I want to do it.” She was their mother, why shouldn’t she be the one to feed them? It was her body that made them, that brought them into the world. It made sense that it would continue to care for them even now. “Can you show me how?”

It took a moment for the maid to close her mouth before she smiled gently. “I’ve raised nine children myself, princess. I think I know a few tricks.”

The maid had gone by the time Aemond woke.

Daeron was still suckling at her left breast while Aenar had fallen asleep using the right as his pillow. She had not realized how heavy and uncomfortable they had felt until the boys had drunk from her, easing the pressure that she’d become accustomed to.

“You should not be doing that yourself,” Aemond muttered as he raised himself on an elbow. His eye darted from son to son, only ever glancing over her exposed breasts. Once, he loved to worship them, quite similarly to how his sons fed from her now. “Where is the wetnurse?”

Did he not know that Alys had left? Had no one told him of the death of his child?

No. Those were the faint remnants of tear tracks lining his cheeks, and there was a deep sadness in his eye that was not there when he held his sons for the first time. He knew. He knew, and he was grieving, though he was fighting to hide it. She still saw it.

Perhaps that was the real reason he never returned to King’s Landing during the war - he knew she would be able to see the guilt on his face.

“There is no other wetnurse,” she explained gently. “Alys left. They’re looking for another woman now.”

Aemond froze, his gaze growing distant. She could not decipher his expression. Rage? Guilt? Sorrow? Grief?

“I’m sorry, Aemond.” He frowned and shook his head, but she continued. “Truly, I am.”

“It’s better this way,” he whispered. He didn’t believe it. Neither did she.

He reached out to her. No, not to her, but to Aenar, gently stroking his hair. She allowed him to take the babe and hold him against his own chest.

Aenar opened his eyes and looked up at his father. Then, he smiled.

Aemond took in a deep breath. “That boy should never have existed,” he said, letting Aenar take hold of his thumb and mouth at it. “I already had what I needed. And wanted.”

So it was a boy. Another son. A brother for her own. Would he have had his father’s nose, as Daeron did? Or his stern brow, like Aenar? Gods, why did she care?

“You are allowed to mourn him. He was innocent. I bear him no ill will.” Bastard or no, a babe was a babe, blameless of his parents’ sins. Deep in her heart, she mourned him, as well.

Again, Aemond shook his head. “I cannot mourn what never should have been.” He turned his head to face her, face open and pleading. “And I am mourning too much already.”

“I am alive. Aenar is alive. There is nothing to mourn.”

“You know that is not what I mean, ābrazȳrītsos.”

She did. He mourned not for the loss of a life, but for the loss of their life. The life they should have shared, and would have, had Aemond not strayed. In truth, she mourned for it, too.

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Daeron finally finished feeding, stretching his little arms to push her breast away. She pulled her robe closed again to combat the chill.

Aemond raised a hand to help her. She flinched away. He winced in response.

“Ābrazȳrītsos, please.” His voice was already breaking, his eye watering. The sight should have tugged at her heart. His begging should have fanned the flames of her anger. But looking at him, she felt very little of anything, save a small seed of pity. “Alys is gone. My… the bastard is gone. Can we not return to the way we were? Pretend none of this ever happened? Can’t you forgive me at last?”

The answer came without hesitation.

“No, Aemond.”

Within her, there was no longer a grassland, barren with loneliness and despair. The never-ending field of raging fire had also vanished. In its place was a small, lush garden, safely contained within tall stone walls draped with flowers and a polished iron gate – locked firmly, but perhaps not sealed forever.

“I shall always be your sister, your blood, and the mother of your children.” Daeron cooed, as if he knew she was talking about him, and she could not help but smile down at him. “I will remain your wife in the eyes of gods and men. And when Aegon dies, I will be your faithful queen.”

Aemond shook as his breath quickened, failing to keep the heartbreak. “You will be a wonderful queen, ābrazȳrītsos. I know it.”

She pulled away, taking Aenar from him and into her empty arm. “But I will never again be your ābrazȳrītsos.” She forced herself to ignore the whimpering, broken cry that escaped him, the breath that carried it echoing like a death rattle. “I will not share your bed. And I will no longer allow you to hold my heart.”

Between desperate sobs, Aemond raised his head to face her. Utter devastation lay in his eye, but so too did acceptance. Anguished surrender. “My heart is and always shall be yours.”

I don’t want it, her mind told her, even as her heart cried, I will cherish it forever.

But her decision was made. In all but name, their marriage – their once legendary romance – was finished. A few fragments of love remained but would never be repaired. Could never be.

Slowly, she rose from the bed, her sons still in her arms. Aemond began to reach for her, but when she did not even acknowledge him, he covered his face with his hands and wept. Though it tugged at her heart, it was the same she would feel for any man weeping so, no longer the instinctive pull of a wife. She did not comfort him.

The soft, pitiful sounds of Aemond’s grief faded as she walked toward the eastern window, settling herself in the cushioned seat just beneath it.

Daeron smiled, watching the trembling branches of an oak tree dotted with the first tight green buds of the season. Aenar angled his head just so, until the sun warmed every bit of his fat, pink face, then promptly fell asleep. She sighed, taking in the sweet scent of spring on the wind, and realized she had not breathed so easily in months.

It was a lovely morning in Harrenhal.

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procrastiel · 2 months

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My highlights from The Assembly:

Was John Taylor from Duran Duran your first ever crush? “Yes, he absolutely was.” Michael thought he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, man or woman. And he tried to imitate his hairdo (didn’t work out though, because Michael’s hair is really curly and John’s is straight).

He’s not brave enough to go on Strictly because he thinks he’s not a good dancer.

How does it feel to be dating someone that is only 5 years older than your daughter? “Both of us were quite surprised when we got together, it wasn’t something we were looking for. I haven’t dated anyone who is much younger than me but you meet who you meet. We were both very aware how people might respond, and that it would be difficult and challenging, but ultimately we felt that it was worth it, because of how we felt about each other. And now we have two beautiful children together. We’re really, really happy. I am aware that I am a much older father, and it does worry me, and makes me concerned, and makes me sad thinking about the time that I won’t have with them. But if you find someone who brings you happiness and you make them happy you gotta go for that. So that’s what we decided to do, and I’m so happy we did because we have this wonderful family now.”

The next question (asked by the same girl) was: Who is the rudest celebrity? “Have you heard of a man called David Tennant? He was Doctor Who. Doctor rude! No he’s very nice. Someone will occur to me and I’ll let you know. (pause) Jennifer Laurence was very cheeky! She is very cheeky.”

How tall are you? “I’d like to be 5”11 but I’m closer to 5”10.”

He likes Dylan Thomas, even though he doesn’t understand all of his poetry.

He cries probably every day. And it’s totally fine to feel things deeply and get emotional about things.

His favourite Disney film is Moana. And that’s Mabli’s favourite movie at the moment, too. She watches it about twice a day.

He’s worried that AI will take his job away, and that it will change everything, not just actors and writers. And that by the time we will want to put a stop to certain things it’ll be too late.

His favourite food is Egg and chips. Only enhanced by ham.

He loves going by train.

If he could replace 2 people of the royal family he’d take away Andrew & Camilla and replace them with Joe Lycett & David Attenborough. Or Tom Jones as the Prince of Wales!

If he could play the Doctor or the Master, he’d like to play the Master and play opposite David Tennant as the Doctor.

His biggest fear is being alone. And it’s also what he worries about the most for other people.

Hot or cold? He does like winter and snow. ❄️

Walk us through the before, during and after of the kiss with David Tennant: reading the script he thought “that’s gonna be a big deal”. They didn’t really talk about it and just went for it. Everyone was quite moved by the scene, all the people around them, so they knew it had gone quite well. And now they never talk about it. (He said that last bit with a smile.)

5 OF THE INTERVIEWERS SANG HERE COMES THE SUN FOR HIM AND EVERYONE JOINED IN AT THE END 😍 Michael had tears in his eyes

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snowsinterlude · 6 months

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back to church.

(incubus!coriolanus x reader)

summary: how could he? appearing in your dreams, fucking the senses out of your body, and now appearing at your church.

c.w: religious imagery and references, church sex, dacryphilia, slight degrading, breeding, explicit sexual content, porn with plot, rough sex, throatfucking, fingering, overstimulation, a bit of praising, dom coryo, catholic reader, virginity loss

your house was full of catholic articles. crosses, paintings, bibles decorating every single thing of your apartment.

a religious fanatic, by all means.

then, when it comes to praying, you loved doing it. especially since you knew all prayers possible, your favorite being the Holy Father. well, it didn't seem to matter now, not when he was there, cursing your dreams, eating you out, fucking you, torturing you- he was a fucking demon. an incubus. made you wake up in drenched panties and made you hide in the bathroom to aliviate yourself.

buzzcut blonde hair, blue heavenly eyes, the proper appearance of a human, but somehow, he seemed prettier than a cherubim. more precious than a diamond.

now, however, you were terribly afraid of the sight in front of your eyes, the same man who appeared in your dreams, the same fucking diabolical being that fucked you senseless was now in front of you, tasting your tears off his finger.

"w-what are you doing here- this is the lord's house! you are not allowed to be here!" you cried, holding your hanging cross in front of him. it was supposed to make demons go away, and still he was there, approaching you, making you stumble on the stairs that lead off to the altar. god's altar.

"you say that, but i can smell you. you're drenching, sopping wet. for fuck's sake, you're a mess." he laughed, kneeling down in front of you, smiling at the sight of your skirt, always hitting your ankle, hiding the curves of your thighs, of your hips, your waist.

"that's sinful, that's a lie. you're the devil. you've been appearing on my dreams, trying to take me down the wrong path- i'm not going!" he chuckled at you, hands holding on your cross in a praying action.

you looked pathetic. on your knees, your cunt drooling for him, clenching around the air and he didn’t touch you more than once, when he took that lonely tear into his mouth- the lewdest thing you have ever seen until now.

with that in mind, when he put you on your knees again after you tried to get up and pray another Holy Father, you almost salivated when the bulge between his legs seemed to be bigger than a normal man's one. not that you could've know, you never had any relationship past 12 years old, when dating was just holding hands and kissing eachother's cheeks.

however, you knew that no one was supposed to have 11 inches. normally it was 8, isn't it? so, taking the cross in your hands, holding it for your dear life, you didn't even took note to when you took his dick into your hand, he didn’t even needed to say anything- what a shame.

the heat and the lust in your body seemed to have increased more than necessary. it was probably his fault, though. you were sure of it.

or you were just a slut.

with that in mind, his hand caressed your hair too kindly for you to ignore, even looking at him while the tip of his dick was on your tongue, with you swirling your tongue around his shaft, feeling the veins, the shape, the hardness, the thickness, whatever you could.

why were you doing this? you both were in a church- next to the altar. you were praying minutes ago. stop that. stop it. was all you could think, alongside with the thoughts of ah, he tastes so good- it's so big. it's not gonna fit in me. it's not fitting in my mouth. not gonna fit inside. but it's good. that's a sin.

"fuck- i didn't even had to tell you what to do? god, you're supposed to be the most faithful woman in this church." he said. and you cried, there was some type of beauty on the christian guilt you were displaying. tears rolling down your cheeks, his dick almost not fitting your sweet throat.

then, for your surprise, you didn't seem to have a gag reflex. then again, he was fucking your throat senseless, the beautiful gagging sounds you made alongside the moans you let be muffled by his cock seemed to be the prettiest melody he could hear in his life, in his death, in his afterlife as a incubus.

it was pathetic. holding onto the cross as if you weren't aucking a incubus's dick. as if you weren't liking it. as if you weren't praying for that to end for you to stop dreaming about him- dreaming and waking up in a wet mess on your sheets.

"maybe you're just a slut, maybe i got confused between the strongest believer and the prettiest whore." he smiled, kissing your lips after taking his dick out of your mouth, for your total despair, you noticed how you wanted more, how you needes more of his taste on your mouth. you needed to taste his cum and yet he didn’t feel like cumming on your mouth.

you were taken into his arms, put up on top of the altar, legs spread so nicely to him, still covered by that long stupid skirt that he made sure to rip out of your body. fuck that fabric, he needed to fuck you.

you, with those doll teary eyes of yours. you, with those beautiful crosses with pearls and fake shining diamonds in it. you, beautiful, virgin, silly you.

maybe he could turn you into a succubus. maybe he could marry you- knot you.

with the heat of your body being something so intense, you didn't notice the Raimundo and the thunders outside- he did. he knew right there that he didn’t confused anything, he was right. you were the pretty virgin doll girl who would rather go to heaven than to fuck- until some minutes ago. but now, with his long finger trilíngue the path up and down your wet slick, you didn't want anything other than him.

"you're too wet, don't you think?" he chuckled, thrusting his middle finger slightly inside you, trying not to hurt you. "and here i was thinking you were as pure as the snow."

"your name- what's your name?" you asked, cheeks colored in heat and your mind numb with lust, one that you didn't had before.

"does it matter? are you going to try and say my name out loud trying to get me out of here?" he asked, licking your bud a bit, it was such a swift move you didn't even remember seeing him leaning in to you, tasting you on his tongue. it was so dirty. such a nasty move.

"n-no, i just need to know who to call- when you're inside." your answer made him let a surprise chuckle out of his lips, his index finger having now the company of his middle finger, both teasing you, both preparing you and making you squirm.

"coryo. call me coryo." you nodded, mouth agape as you looked in front of you, your sight was blurry, but you still saw the image of Jesus christ staring at you, a single tear falling through his eye. the guilt was soon taken over by pleasure, when he started to finger you, "look at me. not at him."

and you obeyed, dubiously dumb to his touch, melting into his fingers, coating them with your wetness. you were so pathetic right now, and still, that stupid cross didn't leave your fingers for not even a second.

he didn’t bother with you coming on his fingers. he did it again and again until his fingers and his forearm was wet with your juices, until your clit was swollen and abused by the attention it was recieving. you tried your best not to cum- he didn’t seem to mind that, he just wanted to make you cum over and over again until you were crying with the overstimulation.

"s-stop that, please, i-i need to breathe properly- need to, need to calm down- don't want to cum again. please. c-calm down." you moaned, and he smiled happily with that, slapping your clit and making you jolt and shake from surprise and a mix of pain and pleasure, god, you were sopping wet. clenching tight on his fingers.

"you taste good." he said, kissing your temple after licking your taste out of his fingers. you were such a tease. he needed to fuck you- ah, you were still a virgin.

that's honestly even better.

then, his tip was teasing you. and just then you noticed how much bigger he was than you- even in his human appearance he was still tall, small horns on his forehead, 6'11ft, buzzcut blonde hair- he was a dream. a nightmare. all at once.

you needed him.

"you're ready?" he asked, his tip getting surprisingly wet over your own juices. you wanted to kill yourself for how good you felt on his dick even if he hadn't enter you yet.

you nodded, a silent nod of humiliation and submission he made sure to burn into his brain.

smiling, he made sure to give you his hand for you in case you felt pain. with that in mind, you accepted the fact that it was going to hurt, his shaft was thick and when it entered you, you cried, tears rolling down your eyes as you stared at the way he entered you, destroying you, devouring you- best to say you were the one doing that, your cunt engulfing him into you, all you could take.

it seemed to you that, when he touched you, fingered you, it was a way to prepare you for him, because now, even with you being a virgin and the pain taking over for your virginity loss, it was incredibly pleasurable.

"you're taking it better than i expected you to." he said, kissing and tasting the lonely tear on your cheek- he was doing that a lot. tasting you, kissing, licking you. you were crying like a kitten, taking him like a whore and looking at him like a saint who has just failed at being the etereal being you were supposed to be. you couldn't bear the idea of going home, being looked over by all the saints, by Saint Mary, by God itself, by all the pictures of Jesus holding a lamb or guiding a lamb- you. the lamb was supposed to be you.

and yet, here you were, moaning on his dick with your legs spread open and all wet for him in front of an altar, in front of all the church benches in where all the saints were watching you from- in your head, this is what was going out.

he was thrusting only half of his dick inside you, never going too far, always hitting you good, but not violent. he could go rough another hour. right now, you were his saint, his angel who failed at the task given by you, not to fall into temptation. not to give into sin.

with that in mind, after the pain went always, you looked him into the eyes, your shining ones meeting his heavenly blue ones. if you looked more at him you could swear he had small clouds in his eyes.

"y-you can go faster," you said, to his surprise.

"if i go faster, i'll end up going deeper, too." he warned, and you shivered at the thought of all of his lenght inside you. it felt arousing.

"please." you pleaded, your scent filling his senses. "go on."

"it will hurt you." he warned again, trying to see if for only a minute you would change your mind. "you're a virgin."

"not while you're inside me," you said. "go on. you're a demon, you're not supposed to be that reassuring, are you?"

he growled as an answer, there was some type of sick humour in your words that he didn’t really like, but it's not like he would say anything. he wanted you to be comfortable, this much was clear. however, you didn't saw any reason for him to want that. there's had to be some motive for that- one that you couldn't think of when he's half inside you, seven inches into you, seven from the eleven inches inside you.

"if that's what you want," he started, his voice nothing but a husky grow. "don't say i didn't warn you."

his eyes seemed to shine brightly as he grabbed your hips, letting you take him by the shoulders, letting himself pound into you, you felt like you were being split in half, however, the more he did it, the more you wanted it.

you came quickly, for his surprise. he thought you would be in so much pain that you wouldn't be able to cum for at least half an hour. then again, you were too sensitive for you not to cum to the smallest move.

"pretty quick, aren't you?" he said, eyes watching as his dick showed up to be completely wet and coated by your cum, and you felt the most embarassed you have ever felt.

"s-sorry, i'm-"

"-you're sensitive." he said, licking your shoulder. you tasted like a salty droplet of heaven, he didn’t even care much about it, he hated heaven's and whatever it is that they hide between those clouds and rainbows, but something in your taste felt almost angelic to him. "it's fine. maybe it was because of my fingers."

the small smile he showed you was almost like shining pearls, you felt like he was enchanting you, hypnotizing you, you were under his spell- under his smile. maybe that's why your face was so contorted up in pleasure.

maybe that's why you didn't feel like caring about how every painting in that church was staring down at you, all of them clearly disappointed about you. the guilt was and would ever since then be ignored by the amount of pleasure you felt when he pounded into you, every single one of the eleven inches being completely inside you.

you could see, in that dirty, sinful and lewd picture how his dick inside you showed a tummy bulge, a line of his cock inside you was clearly drawn outside of you. that's such a sinful act, to be aroused by such a terrible sight.

but still, you were moaning his name, a line of drool running down your chin, your brows knitted together while he did such things to a saint like you. you weren't supposed to be liking it.

it had to be a dream. it had to-

but then again, while his cock was deep inside you, you bit his shoulder with a strenght that you didn't knew your teeth had. muffling your own moans against his skin, taste the flavour of his skin on your tongue, the way it felt bittersweet, the way it felt like a sin.

"you're taking me so well," he chuckled. "like a good girl would. and here i was thinking it would never fit."

he kissed your cheek, holding your ass, fucking you in missionary, your legs spread as he pounded into you, never slowing down- just like you asked to. you didn't seem to form any coherent phrase that wasn't "too deep" "too good" "fuck!" and etcetera.

with that in mind, it didn't took many minutes for you to be shaking on his dick, scratching his back and cumming for whatever time it was.

when he cummed inside you, however, you felt like you were going dumb. you didn't seem to make sense as his cum stuffed you.

"f-fuck- inside. you came inside- i can't be pregnant, i can't-"

"you won't." he said, kissing your temple as he pulled out of you. "but if you do, i will know."

what did that means?

you didn't knew. but you did met him again- and again, and again and again. and then, where was the sense in still be going to church when you were getting fucked relentlessly by an incubus? a being of hell? it didn't make sense. so, after leaving the church, you were with him.

you were with him. leaving with him. not taking well the information of being watched by all the saints, you decided to move with him.

now, you're his. whatever it means.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader #incubus coryo

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