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evielmostdefinitely · 9 months

Note

Imagine how distraught snow would be if his wife had a really rough time giving birth to their child where she’s coming in and out of conscience and there’s blood and he’s terrified she won’t make it like his mother leading to him hating the baby for a little bc of how badly his wife was recovering sorry for the angst! Ignore this if uncomfortable <3

forever winter |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested, troubles with child birth leaves coriolanus very cold towards your son.

contains: angst. mentions of parental death, blood, complications during birth. darkish coriolanus. kinda fluffy-ish end?

Coriolanus knew the horrors of childbirth. He knew the dangers, the risks. He’d seen the blank stares of a new mother rocking her baby, eyes blank and distant like she’d been through war. He’d heard the solemn whispers in a dim room, quiet and hushed, darting eyes that looked everywhere but the casket- sometimes two. His own mother had been torn from his grasp at a young age because of it, and for a while, he was sure he’d never let his own wife experience it.

Then he met you.

You who lit his world up from the inside out, who he rose only each day to see- to love. You who cradled a baby at your engagement announcement, a friend’s newborn, held him so naturally and delicately that it ignited something inside Coriolanus. He wanted a dozen babies with you, he decided at that moment that he’d do anything to make it happen.

You’d blossomed so naturally, swelled up overnight. Round belly and a glowing demeanor- it was addictive to Coriolanus. How he’d brag, boast proudly to anyone who’d hear it- his wife pregnant, he couldn’t be happier.

All those fears, worries, were replaced with new ones. Horror stories about infants, toddlers. His own consuming thoughts about being a father. The idea of childbirth was nothing but a fading thought to him. That had been in the war, technology was better, he was in a better place. Your father had ensured his darling daughter would have the best of the best- you always did. The best doctors, the best birthing suite, the best nursery- the best.

But money couldn’t buy your own body betraying itself at birth. It didn’t stop the bleeding, the paling of your skin as you fluttered in and out of consciousness.

You’d grunted like an animal, tearing yourself into two for hours, cursing Coriolanus’ name, begging him to make it stop, crushing his hands with your legs up in the stirrups, pushing your baby out.

Coriolanus was in awe of you, though he’d never get the chance to tell you. How you’d willed yourself to hurt yourself, inflict that selfless pain to bring life into the world. It was positively poetic.

He’d been so overjoyed hearing your babies gargled cry, the nurses announcing its gender- his gender. His son. A boy. A beautiful boy, wailing and delicate and covered in matter that Coriolanus didn’t even care about when he held him close to his own chest.

“What is it, Coryo?” You muttered, eyes drooping, chest heaving with aftershocks of pain from the birth.

“A boy, my love.” Coryo’s eyes shone with tears, lips pressing together to conceal it. “It’s a boy. Our boy, my darling.”

“A boy…” Your speech was slurred, head lolling back onto the pillow.

Coriolanus noticed for the first time how still the room had become, his son’s wailing the only sound. The nurses and doctors, once chipper and gleeful, now bearing a sickly paleness to their face, eerily quiet.

“What? What’s wrong?” Coriolanus snapped, eyes wide, frantic, bouncing around the room. “What’s happening?”

“We-We can’t find-” The doctor’s voice shook, ducked between your legs in a pile of crimson. Coriolanus’ stomach turned violently.

“She’s bleeding. We-We can’t find where the bleeding is.” The nurse whispered.

“What?” Coriolanus snapped. “Bleeding? H-How can she- Find it!” The baby wailed over the sound of Coriolanus’ demanding barks.

“President Snow, we-we’re trying our best-”

“-Try harder.” Coriolanus sneered, clutching the baby closer to his chest. “If anything happens to my wife, I will single handedly ensure your bloodline ends with you. Each of you will know what it feels like to lose your family too if you lose her.” He spat, sending the nurses and doctors into a fearful frenzy.

The newborn wailed, doctors shouted, and Coriolanus’ ears rang, his chest too tight, painfully tight. He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t survive that loss. His eyes fell to the screeching baby beneath him, scrunched face and wailing gums. How was he to raise this baby without you?

Anger boiled through his chest at the sight of his son- his fault. A cowering nurse, frozen in shaking fear in the corner, watched him carefully as he stormed towards her. “Take this.” Coriolanus sneered, shoving the baby in her arms.

He hated the feeling, the helplessness that consumed him as he stood, wide eyed and shaking hands he clenched into fists.

Somewhere, somehow, the doctor found the bleeding, stopping it with a triumphant cry. “Get the blood, get the blood!” He shouted, head hooked over his shoulder. “Infuse it now!”

Coriolanus wasn’t sure he could remember how to breathe. Memories of the two of your: the moment you met, the first date, his shaking hands asking for yours in marriage, the way you beamed under your veil at the altar, the same glow that you had when you told him you were pregnant. It could all be gone so easily. Had his father felt this way? So helpless?

Maybe that’s why he’d been so hardened and resentful, so he’d never feel attached- never allow himself to feel so helpless.

Coriolanus decided he couldn’t blame him, sitting in this chair, watching as you rested. The doctor said there’d be a lot of that in the coming hours. That you’d gone through trauma and you needed time. He wanted to rip you from the bed, shake you until you awoke and told him you were ok. He needed to hear it, maddenned himself with the need for it.

Instead, he sat.

Coryo sent the baby out to the nursery. He knew your parents, Tigris, everyone waiting would be thrilled to see the baby boy. Coryo just couldn’t muster the feigned excitement now. The site of his own son made his stomach turn, fear soaked repulsion settled deep in the pitt of his own core.

Somewhere in the night, you awoke. A rustling and a groan that had Coriolanus snapping out of his dazed sleep, head tucked to his shoulder, slumped in the chair beside your bed.

“Don’t move.” Coryo commanded, eyes a kind of bright, frantic wide that had you stilling.

Your throat burned, head dizzy with the medicine they’d pumped into your system. Coriolanus’ hands shook as he brought you the water, hand cupping your jaw gently to feed it to you. You blinked, bleary with confusion. “You’re alright, my love.” Coriolanus' heart swelled, suffocatingly in his own chest. You were alright.

“Coryo,” You croaked, throat tight, rasping from before, you were sure. You remembered the birth, most of it anyways, the blurry memory of your baby in Coryo’s arms before your memory failed. “The-The baby… Is he alright? W-Where’s my baby?”

“He’s with your parents, my love.” Coriolanus’ hand smoothes down your matted hair, sticky with dried sweat. “Nevermind him. How are you? Is anything wrong? Do you need anything? I-I’ll call for the nurse.”

You shook your head, looking around the room. The sheets were clean, your gown clean, but you felt an achy soreness splitting you in half. “What happened?”

Coriolanus felt the lump in his throat grow, strangling his words in his throat. “Y-You had some complications, darling.” He swallowed the burn of his own tears down in his throat. “You were bleeding but they stopped it.”

You blinked, unmoving, soaking in the details of your injury. Coriolanus watched you with a studying glare, eyes scanning for any tiny, minor infliction that something was wrong. “Is-Is the baby ok?” You whispered, eyes shining with fear when you met his gaze.

“The baby’s fine.” Coryo snapped, harsher than he meant to. It alarmed you, your eyes snapping to his carefully. He took a deep breath, holding your hand carefully into his own, thumb running over your knuckles.

“He’s fine.” Coryo said, softer this time. “I need to know how you are. What do you need from me, my love? What can I do to make it better?”

You squeezed his hand lightly, your strength weaker than normal. It made Coriolanus’ spine tingle with shooting chills of concern. “I want to see my baby.” You whispered, head leaning against Coryo’s shoulder.

“No,” Coriolanus shook his head furiously. “No, you-you need to rest, and-and not be bothered by the baby-”

“-Coryo,” Your eyes rounded, so pitifully pleading Coriolanus would have walked through fire for you if you asked him to. “Please? I just want to see our baby.”

And how could he say no? He couldn’t, so instead, Coriolanus called the nurse in. Your parents, proud grandparents, holding the baby, tutting over you. Everyone flitting about the birthing room, Tigris even gleaming with joy at the birth of her nephew. All except Coriolanus, who watched in the corner of the room, a stoic look on his face.

You looked positively radiant, glowing with joy as you held your son. As if that baby hadn’t nearly killed you, Coriolanus wanted to scream the reminder to you, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t dare upset you, risk upsetting you in front of your family.

“Coriolanus,” Tigris’ soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, brought him away from his own sinking, heavy feelings of disappointment. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Tigris.” Coryo’s voice was tight, firm and forced, like the look of awkward contentment he tried to paint across his features.

“You… You haven’t held your son.” Tigris hesitated, voice dropping softly so the others wouldn’t overhear.

“I don’t wish to hold him right now.” Coriolanus sneered.

“He is your son, Coriolanus.” Tigris hissed, her voice dropping to a low hush in the room, terrified you or the others might hear.

“And he almost killed her.” Coryo’s eyes flashed to Tigris’ in horrified rage. “Nearly fated her as my sister did my mother, and if you think for one second I am to be happy at that, then you are-”

“-Coryo,” Your voice croaked, still weak and tired. It made his heart lurch, attention on you in a second, already walking towards your bedside.

“Yes, my love? What do you need?” Coriolanus muttered. Normally, he’d be embarrassed, showing such affection especially in front of your parents, but he hoped they’d pardon his vulnerability in the moment, given the circumstances.

“Look at him,” Your eyes shone with love, pure adoration, as if you weren’t cradling the very thing that almost killed you. It made Coryo sick. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

Coriolanus looked down at the small newborn, wrapped in swaddles, eyes closed and lips twitching with the faintest whimper of a cry. He looked so much like you, so much like himself- the perfect blend of the two of you taking your lips but Coriolanus’ nose.

His heart swelled with pride before he could help it, lips curling in a half smile. He’d grown weak, Coriolanus decided, softened by you and your love. He should be disgusted by the baby, despise him and reject him like an animal in the wild would. But he couldn’t bring himself to it.

“A fine young boy.” Your father boasted, nodding proudly. “The two of you should be very proud.”

“Yes,” Coryo swallowed around the lump in his throat. You leaned into his touch, shifting the baby so he could better see him.

“Any idea on the name?” Your mother hummed, moving beside you.

“I still think Cyrene would be fitting.” You’re beaming, beautiful and proud when you meet Coriolanus’ gaze. “What do you think, Coryo?”

“Yes,” Coryo nodded. “I think that would be a fine name.”

“Cyrene Snow,” You cooed, pressing your nose to the baby’s, pressing a gentle kiss there. Your eyes brimmed with tears when you met Coriolanus’ gaze. “Do you want to hold him, darling?”

“Are you getting tired?” Coryo watched you carefully. “Do you feel alright?”

“Yes,” You nodded. “I don’t want to hog the baby. Want you to have a chance too, darling.”

“That’s alright.” Coryo shook his head politely, suddenly very aware of your parents and Tigris’ gaze on him. “You hold him, my love.”

You frowned lightly. You knew something was off with Coryo, the tightness in his tone, lips falling in a flat line. You waited until later, when Cyrene lay in his bassinet, your family all gone for the night, just you and Coryo in the birthing suite.

“Why will you not hold him?” You asked through the still darkness. Coriolanus' eyes snapped to yours fiercely, startled by your tone.

“Excuse me?”

“Our baby.” You groaned when you sat up, Coryo rushing to your side.

“You need to be careful-”

“-You won’t hold him, Coriolanus.” You gripped his arm, eyes shining in something new- something Coryo wasn’t certain of, but it made his stomach twist. “Why?”

Coriolanus swallowed, the lump in his throat suffocating him. “The last time I held him,” Coryo’s voice was soft, rasping in the quiet room, barely above a whisper. “You nearly died.”

The room was still, far too still for either of you to find comfort. A harsh, shocking truth for the both of you, sickening and cruel. Your near damned fated reality, Coriolanus’ worst fears, the peaceful baby resting in the bassinet besides the two of you.

Pressed into the side of your hospital bed, Coriolanus held you carefully, a stilled reminder that you were still there, that you hadn’t left him. The icy wall he’d built high for his son melted with every soft coo and whisper you gave him, a reminder that you were still with him and would be.

When Coryo finally held Cyrene again, when he’d stirred awake and you were asleep, he turned to the window overlooking Panem’s Capitol, eyes shining with tears- of regret, joy, pain? Even Coryo wasn’t sure, but he rocked his son to sleep carefully, promising him that one day, he’d have what Coryo had. That he wouldn’t leave him the way his father had, that he’d keep him safe, teach him how to keep you safe.

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neil-gaiman · 4 months

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This isn’t a question, but I want to thank you for your books and how they’ve impacted my life.

Over thirteen years ago, I read Neverwhere for the first time and it changed what kind of writer I wanted to be. I went on to read more of your books—my other two favourites were The Graveyard Book and The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

About 11 or so years ago, I asked you on Twitter if I could read Stardust on a Twitch livestream, and you responded, “Fine by me”. It was one of my best streams, and while life got in the way of me doing more, I still remember it incredibly fondly.

Ten years ago I had a baby, and while he was an infant, I read him, Fortunately, the Milk, in an attempt to read him a book. He didn’t seem interested. I decided I’d try again some other time perhaps. But I did resolve to get him to read The Graveyard Book someday.

Nine years ago, when I was a mother of a one-year-old, I posted a status on Facebook simply saying, “We do not forget.”

Two years ago, I went on holiday, and I downloaded the audio book version of The Graveyard Book from our local library. My eight-year-old son listened to it as he fell asleep, though he ended up missing some parts, and we shelved it.

Last year, he read Coraline and didn’t like it. That isn’t your fault. He read Charlotte’s Web and didn’t like that either. He just didn’t quite have the understanding for them.

This year, he read Coraline and liked it. I told him it was from the same author as The Graveyard Book. He lamented that he never finished The Graveyard Book, and I said he could always download it from the library again.

Then about a month ago, he and I went through a tough time. I was really stressed about life, he wasn’t doing so well either, and our relationship got strained. I was angry with him all the time. I needed a break from him, or I thought I did. But one day when he was at his dad’s I realised that I wouldn’t get this time back. That I needed to fix it. So I asked him if he wanted me to read to him at bedtime. Just like when he was little. And we settled on The Graveyard Book.

On nights when he got to bed on time, I’d read a chapter. It often meant stretching past bedtime, but I could never stop halfway. It had been years since I’d read it too, and I found myself remembering things I’d forgotten. I’d watch his dark eyes widen whenever things got exciting, and I loved when he would interrupt me with an important revelation. “It’s Scarlett! His friend!” he’d say. “The dog! The grey dog!” “I know what Silas is!” He would tell me that I did the voices so well, that it seemed to match each character so perfectly.

We didn’t read every night, but it was a treat when we did. One night we had an argument and he told me he hated me. That he wished I was dead. And that he wanted to be with his dad. I told him to go take a shower, and that I’d ask his dad to come get him. His dad said no, but agreed to talk to him on the phone. After the shower, my son apologised for what he said. I said okay, and told him to call his dad to chat. After their call, he asked if we would still have story time. I asked if he preferred that or to have some space. He said he wanted both, but wanted story time more than space. So I read to him. It was the chapter when Bod and Silas argued, and then apologised to each other. Halfway through that chapter, my son asked for snuggles. I said, what happened to space? And he said, “I want snuggles more than space.”

We were sad when it ended. We finished it last weekend. I cried as I read it. But it was a beautiful sadness. We’ve talked about it a bit since then, to process it. He says he would like to read more about Silas and Bod’s adventures and asked if there was fan fiction about it. I told him to look, and to write some if there wasn’t. Perhaps I’ll write some too, just for him.

Last night he was at his dad’s and I was browsing Facebook and sent him a couple of his old pictures. Then I found an old post. From exactly nine years ago. And so I sent it to him.

It brought tears to my eyes. I did not remember making that post, and I’ve forgotten a great deal over the years, but I hope I do not forget these little moments with my son. But even if I do, I have them written down here to remind me again.

And thank you. For the words you’ve written and the impact you’ve had on our lives and hearts. I hope that your life holds the same amount of joy and love that you’ve given to others with your words.

That made me so happy. Thank you. I hope you and your son keep growing together.

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evilminji · 8 months

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Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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writing-fanics · 1 year

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not once

Sebastian Michaelis x F!Reader

Not even once did Sebastian think he’d end up falling in love with a human. Why, would be an immortal being a demon in fact want to fool around with such human emotions.

Toying with them for his own entertainment and manipulating them at their most vulnerable was quite enjoyable. But actually, falling in love developing feelings that made his immortal heart skip a beat?

and yet, here she was his beautiful wife fast asleep on the bed in one of the many rooms in the Phantomhive manor. that the young master so graciously gave her when went into labor only twelve hours ago.

He walked over towards the bassinet, peered over and smiled seeing the tiny half-demon offspring. Tiny whimpers, escaped the babies mouth as it squirmed. He smirked, picking up the child and cradling them in his arms.

“My child, you’re just as beautiful as your mother.” He cooed, over the infant who opened his eyes and had a faint smile on his face.

“My little, Arioch.” He cooed, he looked over towards his wife who was fast asleep. Young master, had already given him a few days off to be with his child and wife.

Arioch babbled, looking up at his father his tiny hands reaching up to touch his raven black hair. Sebastian smiled, “Already, growing up before my very eyes.” He said, and the infant giggled continuing to make nonsenseical babbles.

Arioch has taken the place of the most adorable being, on the entire planet. Step out of the way cats Sebastian’s son has taken your place.

Arioch giggled, and his eyes for a moment flash red and Sebastian smiled planting a kiss on his sons forehead. His son, looked just like his mother. Sebastian found absolutely adorable.

“He’s beautiful isn’t he?” A voice said, and he turned around seeing his wife awake and reaching out her arms to see her child.

Sebastian walked towards her leaning down kissing her on the lips, “He is,” He whispered, into her ear causing her to smile. As she looked at the infant, cooing over how cute he was and how much he looked like the two of them combined.

Arioch sneezed, causing [Y/n] to squeal at how cute their baby is. Sebastian looked between his wife and child, and didn’t know what he would do without them. Yes, he’d continue to serve the young master until their contract was over and he’d devour his soul.

Yet, during that time the demon had fallen in love with a human and made a child. Demons usually takes lives not create them and here he was holding the life he’d created in his arms. And it honestly felt surreal to him, he was a demon and yet was experiencing something so heavenly especially for someone who’s been damned to hell.

He knew that one day his wife would pass, his son he doesn’t know exactly. Arioch might live longer than a human but not be an immortal. “My love,” Sebastian said, his wife turned to look at him.

“Thank you, for sharing this experience with me,” He said, and she smiled planting a kiss on his cheek before placing one hand on his cheek.

“No, thank you. I love you so much Sebastian demon or not that doesn’t change how I feel.” She said, and he just grinned.

“Also, I think Grell found out that we have a child now and she’s not happy.” She said, and Sebastian frowned in annoyance seeing the angry grim reaper outside the window.

‘Bassy! It’s no fair!’

‘How does she get you and I don’t!’

“I’ll be right back my love.” He said, and she nodded before looking back at her baby smiling.

#sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis x you #sebastian michaelis x y/n #black butler x reader #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #black butler #romance #x reader #fluff #dadbastian #black butler headcanons

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notjustjavierpena · 7 months

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Longing

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is a collection of !!!!5!!!! asks because y’all are desperate for Javier being a great husband and lover, and I am happy to give you what you crave.

Summary: You make love to your husband the first time after giving birth.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, husband!javier, domestic life, breastfeeding, f masturbation, showering together, insecurity and nervousness, longing kisses and lots of them, body worship, breast play, lactation kink, javier is HUNGRY, nipple play orgasm, checking in, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, clit stim, unprotected piv sex, emotional and desperate sex, creampie, crying and aftercare, sweet javi is here to make you comfortable and make you come

Word count: 5.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53944708

Longing

Javier gets up early every day for work during your maternity leave and the routine is the same; coffee, breakfast, and a shower, and then he gets Lucas out of his bassinet so he can feel his son’s tiny body against his naked chest before he finally brings him to you because he knows you love bed-sharing with your newborn. It’s so you don’t miss me, he jokes each time after kissing your forehead, knowing that his son might as well be his clone, at least not too much.

You’re nursing Lucas as Javier gets dressed. Today will be the first break in your newfound routine, and you barely know how to begin. Something is playing on your mind and you distract yourself by running three fingers over Lucas’ head as he feeds, hoping it’ll make the words you’re about to say seem less clumsy.

“Javi,” you try to get your husband’s attention.

“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love)?” Javier is standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie. He looks at you through the mirror and smiles gently as he catches Lucas’ tiny hands reaching for your chest. You let the infant grab at your finger instead, warmth in your grin as you bond with him.

“I was thinking we could do something tonight,” you begin and your voice sounds almost absentminded. It feels silly to ask for sex when you think back to how ravenous both of you were before and during the pregnancy. Lucas is nearly two months old. You haven’t been intimate with each other for two months.

“Do what?” Javier goes back to tying a knot on his ridiculously patterned tie.

“You know…”

He tenses up, almost looking like when a cat’s ears perk up in interest.

“Is tonight the night?” He asks, catching on. He turns away from the mirror to face you, expectant but careful not to assume.

“Two months,” you say simply, “I think I’m ready.”

“Two whole months. How the fuck did we manage that?” He snorts. You tut at his foul language but cannot help but smile since you know he is right. It boggles your mind too.

“We’ll have to take it slow. Would that be okay?” You look down at Lucas as he gurgles slightly, moving him a bit in your arms.

Javier finishes dressing for the day. He walks across the room and bends down over you, kissing your forehead, “Is it okay that I get to take care of my beautiful wife? I think I’ll suffer through it for you.”

When you tilt your head backward, he also kisses your mouth. You smile against his lips. You say, “I think you’re late for work.”

“And maybe I’ll go home early too,” he pecks your lips repeatedly, “Rush home and into the bedroom.”

“We’ll be waiting here for you,” you let him know.

Javier runs a finger down over Lucas’ nose, “Your momma better change the batteries in the baby monitor, mijo (my son). We won’t have time to check on you as often.”

“Oh, just go,” you grin.

“Te quiero (I love you).”

“I love you too, now go catch some bad guys.”

Javier gives you one last kiss before he heads out the door, and it’s enough to leave you aching for another. He lingers until your breath is torn from your lungs, slips his tongue inside your mouth until you are reminded of what he can do with it, and his fingers slide through the hair at the back of your head - all he has to do is yank but he doesn’t, not with his baby in your arms.

“More later,” he whispers and your pulse goes south at the promise.

“O-okay,” you only manage to stutter.

—

When Lucas has been put to sleep, Javier and you take a warm bath together to get you all relaxed. He helps you under the spray, guiding you into the cubicle by the hand, and smiles as you sigh deeply at the warm water.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he praises when you run your fingers through your hair as it wets. You give him a shy grin. He proceeds to kiss your neck, not caring about water running down over his face when his lips on your body make you less tense with nerves.

You tilt your head back, letting out a sigh as he drinks in your skin, going upwards until it is your mouth he captures. His hands dig into your fuller hips, fingers denting what you call your baby weight and what he tells you he’d fall on his knees for.

“Can I touch you?” He asks when he needs air.

“I’m nervous,” you answer truthfully.

Carefully, as if seeking permission, he takes your hand in his own. He kisses your palm softly and you feel a spark of electricity in your belly, knowing that you are lucky that it is him who is here to guide you through this. He moves your hand down between your legs, “Perhaps… these gentle hands.”

“You want me to touch myself?” You blink.

“Who would be better?” He grins boyishly.

A part of you wants to say that you think he might know you better than you know yourself but there’s a plan here. You follow through, never breaking eye contact as you find your clit and start going in circular motions. It takes a second but when your body finally reacts, you let out a gasp at the flutter that spreads out from the little nub.

Javier looks ravenous at having the privilege to witness you like this. He talks quietly over the sound of the water, and soon you feel his cock poke into your thigh, “That’s it, mi amor (my love). God, look at you. Doing so good.”

“Javi,” you sigh gently. Your fingers speed up, feeling your heartbeat slowly increasing in speed. You chase your high, mouth slightly open and eyes locked on Javier’s.

“Yeah? You’re gonna make yourself come?” Javier’s hands find your hips again. He holds them in place, joins in the way that he can. You nod with a higher-pitched yeah, eyes falling closed during a louder moan.

Your fingers are more frantic after that. You touch yourself with him looming over you, core burning with need as you can feel his eyes bore into you. Your clit jumps occasionally as you work yourself toward the edge and a crease in your forehead forms.

“I’m gonna— fuck,” you announce. The sound of water cascading down your body blurs until it becomes almost silent to your ears.

“Yes, you are,” his voice has dropped an octave, “Oh, you really are, aren’t you?”

And then you snap and the fact that it isn’t in privacy and that you have Javier swearing under his breath makes it feel incredible. You can feel your cunt clench from clit to slit repeatedly, seeking more than you can give at the moment but oh, it feels so good. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted your husband inside of you more, walls aching to be stretched.

Time stands still in the shower. You find yourself resting against the cold, tiled wall. Javier looks at you, has pushed his wet hair out of his face, and is smiling triumphantly, “Mi esposa hermosa (my gorgeous wife).”

You roll your eyes, cheeks heating up from both post-orgasmic bliss and sudden shyness, “It felt good. I don’t think you know how wet I am for you.”

“Well you are in the shower,” he jokes when he spots your restraint, hoping to get you to relax even further, and you step forward to punch him playfully. He shies away, laughing to the point where your head swims with love and tenderness for him.

It ends up being an occasion to kiss once more. Javier holds your face, thumb smoothing over your chin as he slides his mouth over yours. You melt into him, holding onto both of his wrists as you suck on his tongue and it doesn’t bother you that you accidentally swallow a few droplets of water; his lips on yours make everything else fade.

He has rarely kissed and touched you like this over the past few months, having agreed with himself to not tempt you too much with something that neither of you would have been able to follow through on, so the promise behind his touch - his hands are going down to your hips and your arms are linking together around his neck - makes you shiver as goosebumps rise on your skin underneath the hot spray of water.

Eventually, you realize how hard he is and you almost feel bad for being so selfish but when you reach down, Javier stops you.

“I can wait,” he promises, breaking the kiss to look down between your bodies. He twitches in your hand, even more when you reluctantly let go.

“Javi,” you whine.

“I don’t want it to be over already,” he explains with color on his cheeks, “Think about how much we’ll enjoy it later. I’m sorry, mi amor (my love).”

“No, I understand,” you reply with a soft sigh, “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Mhm, bet you will,” he hums and then drags you close to kiss you again.

You agree on finishing the shower and getting into your sleep clothes because Javier argues that it might help with your nerves to be undressed by him, a thing you absolutely love. You settle for a loose t-shirt - in case you have to nurse - and panties, something comfortable with an ability to leave the covered parts of your body up to the imagination.

Earlier, before checking on Lucas, you took painkillers to let your muscles relax even further. Now that they are working, you meet him in bed. He smiles at you as he sees you enter through the door and watches you come closer as he is sitting with one leg dangling from the side of your shared bed.

“Hey,” you say shyly.

“Come here,” he smiles.

You may have relaxed muscles but your heartbeat races in your chest, feeling like you might have butterflies trapped behind your ribs. Your body is humming as you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees in front of him.

“You still want to do this?” He asks, taking one of your wrists in his hands. He rubs it with his thumb, giving you his usual concerned expression that could compete with that of a puppy.

“Yes,” you confirm, leaning forward to initiate a kiss.

He catches on quickly and meets you halfway. He tastes like toothpaste, kissing you softly at first before he grows hungry from having denied himself during the first touches in the shower.

You sling your arms around him, just about to be bold enough to straddle him but he is quicker, and suddenly flips you around until your back hits the mattress and makes you bounce slightly. You respond with a half-yelp, half-giggle, and try to ignore any anxiety that might arise.

However, any noise quickly dies in your throat because Javier moves on top of you. He moves close until you can get drunk on his scent, inhale the distinct smell of only him that gets you so high because you know it’s only you who gets to be so close to it. You can feel your heartbeat in your sex, your underwear starting to dampen.

“You know I struggle to be gentle,” he rasps against your ear, placing a lingering kiss right below it to make your heartbeat spike. His hands curl around the bottom of your t-shirt. He pulls back to look at what he is doing to you and for a moment, you think he might rip the fabric apart from the way his nails dig into it, the same urgency in his eyes like someone who has gone without food and drink for weeks and is now looking at a whole buffet, “When it’s been so long since I have had you like this.”

You hum in understanding, mouth slightly open and squeezing your legs together with a sigh, causing Javier to look down between your legs. He looks like someone who is making a plan, a list of steps forward about what he wants to do to you. You can only wait in anticipation.

Your top comes off then. He yanks it upwards and you lift your arms above your head to help him rid you of it completely. Your tits bounce slightly as there is nothing to hold them anymore, and Javier groans at the sight of you. He practically latches onto your neck, sucking his way down your throat until he has made a trail of glistening spit down over your shoulder, your collarbone, and finally down between your breasts. It’s nice but it’s a lot.

“Stop,” you say to him as he seems lost in the moment. You rest your hands on the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the soft curls there. He lifts his head to look at you, and you smile gently. Your face feels hot, “I need you to go slow… Sorry, I’m not ruining it, am I? I just told you to stop…”

“What? No. No, mi amor (my love),” he reassures but even if his kisses have made you wet, you feel overwhelmed with the idea that things might not be the same ever again. You shift slightly underneath him, and he presses a soft kiss to your collarbone whilst watching your expression in case it’s still uncomfortable for you.

“I think it might take a while for me to be ready tonight, I can’t just jump back in,” you swallow after confessing it but Javier nods in understanding.

“That’s okay, baby. It’s only been two months,” he crawls up to hover over you, abandoning whatever he was doing even if he was enjoying it, and you still rest your hands on the back of his neck.

“I mean you’re so,” you decide to feed his ego to make your reluctance up to him even if it’s not necessary, “… Big.”

Javier snorts. He seems to find it more funny than flattering, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you giggle, “Biggest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Listen,” he turns serious, resting on one of his forearms to reach for your hand on the back of his head. He pulls it down so he can hold your hand in his. He entwines your fingers, “Do you want to stop? I won’t get angry at you.”

“And not even try?” You avoid his gaze.

“Hey, mírame (look at me),” he replies and you do, “If that’s what you want. No matter what you say, we made progress tonight.”

“I masturbated in the shower,” you deadpan.

Javier laughs but he kisses your lips a few times, “And it was fucking sexy. I’ll be satisfied with just watching that for the rest of my life if I had to, but I do like the thought of Lucas not being an only child.”

“Slow down, Peña,” you teasingly scold him, feeling your anxiety fade as he makes you laugh and thus relax, “You just got your first baby. I am not a factory.”

“What are you then?” He wiggles his brows.

“Your wife,” you say with a grin.

“Oh, right, that’s right,” he moves to kiss your neck again and you find that you let him. He moves slower than before, trailing his lips across your throat from one shoulder to the other. He takes his time and doesn’t rush the way that he probably would like to, “That’s right, you’re my wife.”

“Husband,” you moan softly and feel him smile against your skin. He goes further down and goosebumps rise on your skin when the flat of his tongue licks around one of your nipples. You push your chest out, needing more because it starts a fire in your belly. To think that he hadn’t even gotten this far just moments ago.

“You like that?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the side of your right breast. He looks up at you through his lashes before he licks the little nub again, it has hardened into a peak. The nerves are so sensitive there now that you are breastfeeding, and you hadn’t even given it a second thought that it could be something to enjoy with him.

“Yeah,” you sigh and stare down at the top of his head. He moves to bend your legs, spreading them apart so he can lie down between them and kiss your tits.

“I can’t wait to see how wet this’ll get you, baby,” he murmurs as he concentrates. He starts with the right side, letting his mouth fall open until he can press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your nipple and suck just a little as he pulls back. He does it again. You curl your toes and whine.

“Oh,” you are panting already from the connection it appears to have with your cunt, “Keep going.”

Javier doesn’t hesitate. He skims his hand up and down your side until he dares cup your breast, looking up at you for confirmation that you aren’t uncomfortable. You bite your lip and nod.

Your husband applies the gentlest amount of pressure. He doesn’t remove his hand again, keeping your breast in his palm as he takes your nipple between his lips once more. However, this time he sucks without pulling away, and much to your surprise, as he massages you too, you feel a few drops of milk slip into his mouth.

“Javi!” You say in a horrified voice, starting to squirm, “I’m so sorry. Oh my God, ohmygodohmygodohmy—“

But Javier only seems to be spurred on by this. In fact, he starts to coax out more milk to satisfy the hunger that he didn’t even know he had in him. You hear him mumbling something, telling you not to worry about it. He sucks, laps, and catches each drop that escapes his mouth and streaks your beautiful chest whilst your eyes roll back and your clit throbs.

Your hands find his hair. You tug without making him pull away from you, and pressure builds as his skilled tongue moves in circles around your now-puffy nipple. He takes the peak between his lips again and again, the sound of wet kisses towards skin filling the room, and he drinks like he is parched.

Eventually, you feel too tender to go on and something inside of you fears that you might actually come from this even if it seems ridiculous to be terrified of that happening. You don’t think you have ever had breasts this sensitive in your life, and whilst it has been nice for you to have Javier pay attention to your chest, this is new territory and it’s overwhelming above all else.

The grip you have on his hair intensifies, “Baby. Can you switch? I’m getting sore.”

“Of course,” he draws back slowly and gently noses along your spit-slicked nipple and presses one last soft kiss. You twitch underneath the touch.

“Javi,” you stress.

But he follows through and switches over to the left. The sensation of him using his tongue on you here as well is exquisite, eliciting a string of higher and higher moans from your throat.

God, he knows what he is doing with his mouth and soon wetness has started to smear your inner thighs after seeping through your underwear. You know Javier will lose his mind when he sees it.

Though right now, he is busy as his tongue flicks repeatedly across the hardened nub. Milk trails down your stomach at first and then suddenly squirts when he pinches your right nipple without warning.

“Oh!” You gasp and feel your pulse getting stronger between your legs. You lift your head, “Jesus. This is—“

“The hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he interrupts you as if he knows you are going to degrade yourself in some way. You were in fact going to call it messy. He kisses your breast open-mouthed again, sucking your nipple into his mouth until you give in to a moan, “¡Dios mío (my God)! You taste like candy. Sweetest fuckin’ thing ever.”

“You need to—“ you can barely speak as his tongue curls around your hardened peak. He flicks his tongue back and forth over it afterward.

“Yes?” He stops to let you talk and nibbles right at the roundness of your breast.

“I can’t do this anymore, we gotta do something else or I’ll come,” you don’t even hear how absurd it is to make it sound like a problem. Below you, Javier nearly chokes at hearing that.

“Jesus, how devastating that would be,” he says sarcastically. With a quick glance up at you, he decides to keep going to which you do not protest. He lavishes you with nips and sucks, building something low in your belly, “Then come, mi vida (my life).”

You try to catch your breath as your cunt pulses but suddenly an orgasm crashes over you and makes you lose it altogether. There’s milk everywhere. You cry for him after a moment of not being able to make a sound, hands falling to the sides so you don’t end up pulling strands of hair from his scalp. Your back arches, your throat scratches from the noise you make, and below you, Javier watches with absolute wonder.

“Are you okay?” He eventually asks, sitting up a little to follow your wishes if you should have any. When you don’t respond, too busy panting, he starts rubbing your thighs soothingly until you come back to him.

“That’s never happened before,” you say, “I didn’t think…”

“Was it good?” He watches you with a tiny smirk.

You nod.

“Do you want more?” He continues.

You don’t hesitate despite the circumstances. Twenty minutes ago, you would have doubted even being kissed. You nod.

“And what does my baby want?” He looks down between your legs. When you don’t reply, he starts suggesting things, “Want me to play with your perfect pussy? We can stop anytime you want.”

You whimper instead of using actual words. It’s now that you realize the pressure inside of you telling you how much you need to feel him inside of you, and you’ll take it any way you can. Perhaps it’ll be easier to start out this way.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost a bit mocking, moving to stand on his knees between your spread legs, “That what my girl wants?”

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly.

Javier swears quietly as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and watching the fabric cling to your wet seam. He inhales deeply as if to compose and behave himself, looking starved for more even as he already has a streak of white milk on his chin, “You are so goddamn wet for me, baby. She’s weeping, the poor thing.”

“Imagine how many men would worship the shape of your body,” he praises as soon as he has you naked below him, eyes glazed over by lust. He looks at you as if it’s the first time he has ever seen you, pupils dilated and mouth slightly open. You feel like a deer in the headlights of a car but you don’t dare interrupt him, don’t dare disturb the flow of words falling from his lips because they make your whole body burn with need instead of insecurity.

“I can’t believe that I was the one who got to make you my wife,” he tells you with a smile that shows you how pleased he is with himself as if it’s his greatest achievement - fuck everything else; the job, the money, the fame. He skims a hand over your belly before leaning down to kiss below your belly button, causing your muscles to jump underneath his warm mouth when he licks you clean of milk. Then his palm descends on your body, “Mhm, gonna show you how grateful I am. Stuff you full of my fingers.”

“Please,” you whine, jaw clenching as he slips a finger inside of you and tiny shivers seem unable to stop rolling over you. He straightens again to look at you for reassurance that everything is okay. You give him no reason to doubt.

After a few moments, he adds a second finger. He curls them upwards until he finds the little spot inside of you that makes you sing, and your hands grab at the sheets when he makes a come-hither motion over and over again.

“Javi,” you breathe desperately.

“Yes?” He doesn’t halt, only slows down slightly to concentrate on what you are going to ask of him. The look in his eye tells you that he’ll give you anything.

“I love you,” you moan towards the ceiling instead. The wet squelches of your cunt are obscene to listen to, bouncing off the walls along with your continuous gasping for air as he makes you unable to breathe properly.

“I know, baby, I know. I love you too,” he grinds the heel of his hand down against your mound, reminding you briefly of how he made love to you the first time ever. He rubs your clit on the outside and works the pads of his fingers over your g-spot on the inside. Fast. The world fades away around you until you suddenly find yourself coming again, Javier’s eyes widening at how quickly you have gotten there once more, “Christ, baby. You are just insatiable tonight. Has it been too long?”

“I want you,” you completely ignore the question. You shake through your high, not even planning on begging but it’s almost too much not to have him fuck you, “I can— ah, I can take your cock. I can. Please. I need you inside of me.”

Javier growls. He shoves his underwear down, moving on the bed for a moment until he is completely naked. You reach for him with newfound confidence, and he enters your embrace and slides both arms underneath you to hug you back. The kiss he gives you is so longing that you almost want to cry from all the emotion it exudes. He loves you so much. He would never do anything to hurt you. It is so clear at that moment.

“Make love to me,” you moan into his mouth, thumbs drawing down the sides of his face until you can move your hands to the nape of his neck. He is warm against your chest, the curls at the back of his neck slightly damp from sharing your body heat for so long.

It takes a mere few seconds for him to reach down between your bodies. You make a little gasp as he pushes into you. He is slow in his movements, almost making it seem like he isn’t moving his hips forward at all, and he keeps his eyes on yours to make sure your face’s contortion isn’t because of pain.

You grab at the pillowcase, clutching it into your grip as he fills you up. Your breathing is loud and hard, your eyes a little wider than usual. There’s a little resistance but you try to relax into it, accept his cock even if it’s with trembles of your body.

“This okay?” He asks with a voice that is marked by his own restraint.

You nod repeatedly. You want to punch the bed. Instead, you reach to grab his bicep and hold on for dear life as he gets deep inside of you. You aren’t sure if you have overdone it by coming two times already because you are so sensitive, your walls fluttering around his length but oh, you want him so badly that you take it with your eyes rolling back into your skull.

After a few very long moments, he is fully inside of you. His chest rises and falls quickly, breathing strained because of how much he has missed being engulfed by your heat. You hold onto his arms which flex underneath your touch, and then he moves inside of you for the first time in two months.

The cry that releases from your throat makes your voice break and Javier’s groan follows right after. You become a sweaty mess of limbs, clutching at each other as if you can’t get close enough. You pant his name, kiss him deeply, and dig your fingers into his skin hard enough to bruise.

“I’ve missed you,” you tell him through whimpers.

“You’re perfect, mi amor (my love),” he replies in a gruff voice, “I love to fuck you.”

Javier cannot help his mouth when you make him feel like this. He thrusts harder into you, moving his weight to his forearm so he can slide his free hand under you to press it against the small of your back. He lifts your pelvis into his own, arching you until no one would be able to tell where he starts and you finish.

Then he speeds up his hips and you see stars. You throw both arms around him, holding onto your wrist to keep them there. He drives into you with determination to make you scream, and as you do, you try to imagine how beautiful his golden back is glistening with sweat.

“Fucking love making you come,” he continues, planting a kiss on your jaw that was probably supposed to be on your mouth, “Over and over and over. Are you gonna come for me?”

“Yes, yes, God, yes, baby,” you can feel his pubic bone grinding into your clit, building your peak quickly, “Keep going— don’t, oh my God, don’t stop!”

“Wouldn’t dream— fuck, I wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” he sounds close to, giving you everything he has to make you tip over the edge a third time. He always tells you how much he loves you choking his cock until he spills inside of you.

So when you come, a hitched breath turning into a series of cries for God, he does too. It is two months of built-up tension and emotions, and you find yourself crying in his arms as waves of pleasure take hold of you and take you with them. You are gone, lost to the world of burning desire and ecstasy.

After he pulls out of you, the sense of time is an unknown concept in the silence that follows. You cry quietly because nothing else can convey what you feel. After all, you feel so close to him again. Javier brushes each tear away with his thumb, murmuring soft and comforting words.

“You did so good,” are the first words that actually make sense to you. He noses along your shoulder to kiss you there, “I don’t deserve you. You are the most beautiful woman in this world.”

You chuckle breathlessly but fresh tears just fall down your cheeks. Javier rolls off of you to make things less intense, looking at you from where he is lying on his side, “Don’t cry. There’s nothing to cry about. You were so beautiful.”

“Sorry,” you say instantly and wipe tears away with the back of your hands.

“No,” he objects, “That’s not what I meant.”

He is silent for a moment. Then he lays his palm on your stomach, “What do you need?”

“To pee and get cleaned up,” you feel embarrassed without knowing why, “My legs feel like jelly.”

“Fuck it, let’s see if mine do too,” he is on his feet before you can protest, telling you to scoot closer and when you do, he picks you up bridal style.

He carries you to the bathroom, making a comment about your wedding night, and then lets you pee and wipes you down with a damp cloth afterward, both your sensitive cunt and breasts. You kiss him more times than you can count when he takes you back to bed again.

In the morning, you watch him bounce Lucas in his arms when he thinks you are asleep. He is making funny faces and blowing raspberries on your son’s chubby cheeks, talking so gently that you can’t help but simply roll onto your other side, smile gently to yourself, and fall back into slumber.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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strang3lov3 · 1 year

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strang3lov3’s masterlist

I do not give consent for anyone to copy, plagiarize, translate, post my work elsewhere, or put my work into AI chat bots.

all fics are f!reader and I’m a sucker for cream pies. Just pretend Joel’s shooting blanks.

Updated 09/09/2024

Joel Miller

One shots

Lookalike - Joel finds your dirty mag and makes you get off in front of him.

Everyday I’m Shufflin’ - Joel is horrified to find out that you cannot shuffle a deck of cards, so he teaches you in a rather unorthodox way.

A Learning Process - When it rains, it pours. Shit hits the fan the first day you’re alone with your infant son, and Joel comforts you.

Tis’ But a Scratch - Too stubborn and proud to admit your mistakes or that you may need Joel’s help sometimes, Joel decides to teach you a lesson.

For Science - Joel helps to alleviate your period cramps. You know, for science.

Sleeping Beauty - Joel realizes you’re dreaming of him and wakes you up in the best way possible (his head between your thighs)

Self-Indulgent Tendencies - (dbf!joel) Joel finds you skinny dipping in his pool, and gives you two options. He can call the cops on you or he can punish you himself. You choose the latter of the two.

Phone a Friend - a story of two assholes and how they resolved their sexual tension (alternatively, Joel is sick of hearing you masturbate night after night)

Cup of Sugar - (dilf!neighbor!Joel) Joel catches you rifling through his belongings when you’re frantically searching for batteries after your vibrator dies.

Joyride - (dbf!joel) when your car breaks down, Joel decides to give you one of his. He just has to make sure you can handle a stick first ;)

Have your cake and eat it too - (brat tamer!joel, mean!joel, dom!joel) when you make joel bust in his favorite pair of jeans, he makes you clean your mess.

Cream (horny husband!joel x reader) Joel is insatiable. He convinces you to get it on at his aunt's house on Thanksgiving. He's also got a lot of dirty Thanksgiving jokes he thought of last year that he's been saving to annoy you.

Fighting Fair - Joel doesn’t know what or who started this fucking thing, but he’s finishing it. Tonight.

Love Spell - (Sex pollen) After eating some mysterious berries, you and Joel spend a very memorable and unexpected Valentine’s Day together

Enjoy the Silence - You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position.

Chevelle - (virginity loss) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money.

Play Stupid Games - who woulda thought you could make Joel come by playing with his nipples?

Dirty Laundry - Joel's best kept secret is the washer and dryer he's not supposed to have. Your best kept secret is that you've been using that washer to get yourself off.

Click Here - You and Joel both know how he got that virus on his computer, and you can’t help but to relentlessly tease him in more ways than one…until Joel’s had enough.

Bite Me - You learn two things on a particularly boring patrol shift - Joel loves to bite and you love to be bitten.

Seeing Red - Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude.

On Display - You crave more than just Joel’s eyes on you, so he gives you an audience.

Safety First - While camping, Joel insists on thoroughly checking you for ticks. Safety first, after all.

Catnap - Joel interrupts your nap on his thighs.

Dinner and a Show - A corrupt FEDRA soldier catches you and Joel sneaking back into the QZ. He’ll look the other way, but you’re gonna make it worth his while.

Bad Habit - Joel helps you to quit smoking.

Series

Lather (incomplete) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🚿🧼💦 part one, part two

Mall Rats(complete) Joel keeps track of you as you search your way through an abandoned mall. You don’t make his job easy. First stop is Victoria’s Secret. Masterlist

Brain Scramblies (complete) after sustaining a concussion, you tell Joel how you really feel about him. You don’t remember a thing the next day. Part one, part two

Ezra (Prospect)

One Shots

Lavender - Ezra gives you a pleasurable massage.

Frankie Morales

One shots

The Real Deal - Frankie demonstrates why exactly he’s less than impressed by your rose toy.

Roman Roy

Because my Roman audience is so small, I have a taglist for him. If you leave me a kind/excited comment/rb/ask about my Roman writing I tag you on the next fic 🩷 you’re also welcome to send me a message/ask to join or leave it.

One shots

Invisible Line- boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Raise - Roman will increase your raise substantially, so long as you don't lose his game.

Indecent - Roman manspreads in the hot tub.

Dinner and a Show - Roman, a corrupt FEDRA soldier catches you and Joel sneaking back into the QZ. He’ll look the other way, but you’re gonna make it worth his while.

Series

Stepdaddy!Roman -(incomplete) You have a weird thing with your stepfather.

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strawberri-blonde · 1 year

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The Little Warrior’s Needs - Neteyam

Photo edits to @cinetrix

Summary: Neteyam takes your one-month-old son out for the day so you can rest, then when they get home you smell another woman’s scent on your family.

Warning: No warnings that I can think of. Maybe curse words????

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of soft cries. Instinctively, you reach out and press your hand against the woven basket that Neteyam had built for your son months before he was born. As your hands felt the cold, empty basket, your heart sank. You finally opened your blurry eyes and looked down at the basket to see that it was, in fact, empty. 'Ateyo,' the desperate plea of your baby's name escaped your lips.

"Yawne," you feel a hand grab your wrist, making you realize that you had not looked right beside you where Neteyam currently lies with your son in his arms. "Baby, he's right here." You barely slept a wink last night, exhausted from your one-month-old son's incessant crying.

With a heavy sigh, you open your eyes and stretch your sore body. "My beautiful mate, he really took a toll on you last night." You shook your head trying to disagree, while you maneuvered yourself into your mate's side, kissing the soft texture of Ateyo's head.

He looked just like his daddy, such a handsome little man, you thought, letting out an exhausted yawn. Neteyam watched with worried eyes as yours began to close once again, even with his son grabbing at your chest, clearly ready to eat. Your motherly body had grown used to Ateyo's wants and needs over the month, ready to provide for the little creature.

"Hold on, junior." It was a nickname his dad, Jake, had given the infant as soon as he was brought into this world. And Neteyam couldn't help but agree, he was his little mini-me. "I got you."

Shifting his body, the warrior brought his right arm behind your head giving you some kind of support, then held onto his boy's bottom as Ateyo easily latched onto your swollen nipple. "Wish daddy could do that." Even in your sleep-deprived state, you couldn't help but let a warm smile make its way onto your face.

You placed a hand under Neteyam's to help cradle your son on your chest, wincing as he hungrily drank from you. "Such a beautiful, caring mother." Your head nuzzled into Neteyam's chest, craving his loving embrace. The man pressed kisses onto the top of your head then trailed down to your forehead. "I'm so sorry that I fell asleep on you, muntxate. I can't believe I did that."

You hummed against his warm skin, allowing your sleepy eyes to partly open and meet Neteyam's gaze. His amber iris was filled with guilt, which made your heart ache. "Teyam, you went on a huge hunt yesterday," you whispered, raising your hand from Neteyam's arm to cradle the back of Ateyo's head. "You managed to kill a Talioang all on your own and even dragged the beast halfway to the village with just your Ikran before help arrived." Neteyam loves it when you speak about his accomplishments with such pride in your tone. "You provide nourishment for me to be able to produce milk for our baby, so one night of me being up with Ateyo is a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Neteyam pressed a kiss to your lips, trying to express how much he loves you through this simple act of affection. "Next time, wake me up." You chuckled into his mouth while caressing Ateyo's cheek, causing him to slowly droop his eyes into sleep.

"I'll try, yawne."

Neteyam kissed your lips again, running his fingertips against his son's back, watching him get milk drunk off your sweet breasts. "No, you will," you didn't reply, only nuzzled your head into the nook of his neck, letting the warrior hold onto you and the baby. "And to make it up to you, I'm gonna let you rest. I'm gonna take Ateyo with me today." This had you pull away with widened eyes.

"But neither one of us has taken Ateyo out in the village alone." It's true. You and Neteyam would take Ateyo to the village to socialize as a family, but you always did it together because both of you were kind of scared to do it alone, fearing that something might happen to the little guy. There's plenty of things that can hurt the baby in the village, but it was safe at home.

"I know, Y/n, but I want to do this for you. Plus, I want to show off my son to the trainees. I want to let everyone know that we created such a handsome man," Neteyam cooed while pressing kisses to your forehead, then kissing Ateyo on the crown of his head.

You smiled warmly, then sank back into his embrace. "Just be careful, yawne, and if there's one misplaced hair on his head-"

"Calm down, mama. They'd have to get through daddy first." Hearing that allowed you to go right asleep in Neteyam's arms with Ateyo nursing on your chest. With a partner as good as Neteyam, you were beyond grateful for your little family.

_____

As you awoke for the second time today, you subconsciously reaching your hands out for Neteyam's warmth. However your body needed a few more minutes of rest, so before opening your eyes. You fell back to sleep.

This time, it seems like you've woken up by the silence of your home. No sound from the little mouth that used to chatter for milk every few hours. Your eyes slowly flicker open, but your mind feels fuzzy and slow. As you roll over, you realize the bed is empty. At first, you let your mind roam free, wondering where the child is, until you remember that Neteyam mentioned taking him out this morning.

A wave of sadness washes over you. You've never been apart from Ateyo since he was born. The baby was always within arm's reach, even when you were learning your tsahík duties with Mo'at. And Neteyam was always by your side.

Even when he had to go back to training with his dad, he'd make sure you had everything you needed, so you wouldn't have to leave the swaynivi for anything. You let out a loving sigh, thinking about how amazing Neteyam is as a mate. You decided to take his advice and relax.

Climbing out of the swaynivi, you made your way through the dense forest. The birdsongs of the late morning welcomed you as you inhaled the scent of flowers and greenery. It had been almost two months since you had taken a walk through Eywa's creation, as Neteyam had you bedridden near the time for Ateyo to be born.

You couldn't help but giggle, reminiscing about how Neteyam would always get a little flustered whenever you accidentally bumped into a tree or attempted to hunt a tiny bird. Fortunately, your pregnancy progressed quite smoothly, with only sporadic spurts of morning sickness and some minor body aches. Before long, the air in the forest resonated with the sound of your contagious laughter, filling the surroundings with pure joy.

As you felt the hard dirt turn moist under your feet, you knew you were heading towards the small waterfall. Maneuvering yourself around the narrow paths that were clearly overgrown with plant life, the quiet sound of rushing water filled your eardrums. The excitement of the moment caused you to run through the foliage like a kid.

As you dashed through the familiar bushes, you gracefully skip past the leaves and stumbled upon a hidden gem—a small waterfall gracefully flowing between two majestic rocks. Its height barely accommodated Neteyam's towering frame. The water descended with a sense of liberation, creating a delicate mist that danced in the air as it cascaded down the enchanting boulders.

The water was so clear that you didn't hesitate to walk in. You gasped at how cool it was, but still welcomed the feeling and so did your achy muscles. The water just barely reached the bottom on your cheeks. With nimble fingers, you untied your top and glided the material through the water. You figured that while you were here, you'd wash your clothes and make new ones, since you have the time.

Once you were satisfied with your top, you placed it against a sunlit rock. Carefully, you untied your bottoms to repeat the process. Satisfied with them, you gently laid them next to your top. The soothing sounds of the cascading waterfall beckoned you closer. Slowly, you turned in the water, making your way to the steady stream, and stepped into its refreshing embrace. The cold temperature took your breath away, but it was exactly what you needed. After a month of caring for a newborn, you felt your muscles relax as the stress washed away with each droplet.

As you lower yourself into the water, sitting cross-legged, you feel its gentle touch on your tender breasts. Closing your eyes, you relish in the pure bliss. Inhaling deeply, you find a momentary escape from your worries. Your fingers delicately trace the stretch marks on your stomach, cherishing the beautiful reminders of your precious baby boy.

The cold water washes away the sweat and grime, and you can't help but cup your breasts in your hands, feeling how full they are with milk. Guilt and sadness consume you as you think of Ateyo. You wonder if he's hungry, trying to relieve some pressure from the milk buildup beneath the water's surface. But you know that Neteyam is more than qualified to take care of your son; you're just being a worried mama. Shaking away the worry, you continue to relax, knowing that if Neteyam needs you, he'll find you.

_____

You spent some time by the cascade pond and discovered plants with roots that are good for oral health. You made a paste out of them to help with Ateyo's teething pains or for hygiene purposes. Since Eywa is a great provider, the leaves of the plant didn't go to waste. You even made yourself a new outfit.

The leaves' smooth texture provided great support for your breasts, alleviating the pain when they were full. Your loincloth fit perfectly, accentuating the vibrant green against your beautiful blue skin. You skillfully wove a thin, cut-up leaf around your tail, adding an exquisite touch to your attire. And of course, you made two bracelets woven in the same pattern throughout your entire look.

The bracelets weren't meant for you, but with your heart racing, you practically skipped through the forest. You entered with nothing but your drained body, and now you feel so refreshed. Plus, you're also leaving with a brand new woven basket, holding your old clothes, paste, and the two special gifts. It's been quite the adventure.

As you come home, you feel a tinge of sadness seeing that Neteyam and Ateyo haven't arrived yet. Your heart sinks a bit, thinking that your baby might be hungry if Neteyam hasn't fed him. To calm your nerves, you settle down on the woven mat in your home, patiently waiting for their return.

However, the minutes felt like an eternity. Finally, you hear footsteps approaching the home, and Neteyam appears with your baby in his arms. A huge smile makes its way to your face, and you jump up from the mat, catching Neteyam's attention.

As those captivating amber eyes locked with yours, your heart stirred with a rush of emotions. You couldn't help but watch in awe as Neteyam sported a mischievous grin and swiftly ascended the tree, ensuring Ateyo was safely nestled in the Iveh k'nivi s'dir, snug against his chest. Once he reached you, you instantly wrapped your arms around his biceps, pressing kisses to the back of your baby's head. "Oh my goodness," you cooed, peeking your head next to Neteyam's so Ateyo could see you.

His tiny face lights up with pure joy, making Neteyam laugh. Ateyo's eyes sparkle, and his little mouth forms the sweetest grin, melting your heart instantly. "My handsome man," you grab under Ateyo's arms and pull him out of the baby-carrier while Neteyam's hand flies under his butt for extra safety.

Once you had your sweet baby cuddled into your chest, Neteyam leaned in and kissed your temple. You turned away from your son for a moment to give your mate a quick kiss on the lips. "Oh, he must be so hungry," you said, reaching behind you to untie your new top. But Neteyam gently stopped you with a touch on your arm.

"Actually, baby, he's eaten." Your eyes widen at the news, and as Ateyo reaches for your unbraided hair, his sloppy mouth presses against the smooth fabric of your top. "Well, it doesn't look like it, but I swear he did."

"How-" Before you could utter a word, a powerful aroma of feminine pheromones enveloped your senses. Your body instinctively responded, ears flattening and a low growl slipping from your lips.

"Shh, mama." Neteyam sensed your maternal instincts awakening, gently cradling the back of your head and drawing it towards his neck. He enveloped you both in a warm embrace, with the baby nestled between you. However, it didn't ease your worries, as you could still detect the scent on him. "I apologize, it was Rini. I thought you wouldn't mind."

Rini was an amazing friend you connected with because both of you experienced pregnancy together. Neteyam often went hunting with her mate, Talion, and it was comforting to have someone who understood your journey. "I took him to the training grounds, and he got fussy because this big guy never wants to stop eating." Honestly, you didn't mind. The Omatikaya women often support each other with milk supply or other needs. It wasn't Rini's scent that bothered you; there was another pheromone that triggered your primal instincts. "So Talion suggested that Rini could feed him, and I genuinely believed it was innocent-"

You shook your head and gave him a teasing lick from his collarbone to his earlobe, rendering him speechless as you explored his neck, drenching him in your scent. "That's not it," you murmured, taking a deep breath to compose yourself.

Neteyam tangled his fingers in your hair, gently pulling you back to kiss your moist lips. "Could be anyone, baby. We had quite an adventure today," he whispered. As you gradually regained your composure, you felt a bit silly for overreacting and mumbled a 'sorry' against his lips. You then leaned in to shower Ateyo's face with kisses, enjoying the adorable sounds he made, which you assumed were laughter.

"Don't you dare apologize for loving us," he said, causing a wide grin to spread across your face as you looked up at Neteyam with adoring eyes. "And let me tell you, if I ever caught even a hint of another male's scent on my family, someone I didn't know, I'd instantly go into protective mode." You couldn't help but appreciate how Neteyam always seemed to have the perfect words to make you feel less overwhelmed by your hormones. "But I'm sorry, yawne, I have to get off topic because you look so amazing." You blush as Neteyam compliments your appearance, and Ateyo looks up at you with a smile. "Did you make this today?" He leans in and nuzzles his face in your neck, inhaling deeply.

"But I also whipped up a few other goodies." Neteyam's curiosity is sparked, and he leans in closer, resting his chin on Ateyo's head.

"Well, isn't that a funny coincidence because we actually got you a surprise too!" Your expression turned to one of delightful surprise as you pulled away slightly, catching sight of a beautifully woven satchel draped over Neteyam's shoulder. It was something you had been too caught up in the moment to notice before. "But why don't you go first?" He playfully suggested, gently smoothing Ateyo's tiny tuft of black fuzz for hair with a smile.

With utmost care, you cradled Ateyo in your arms before gently detaching from Neteyam. Your hands swiftly retrieved the meticulously crafted basket. Extending your hand towards him, he grasped it willingly, allowing you to guide him to the floor. There, side by side, you both settled into a comfortable position, sitting cross-legged as excitement filled the air.

Neteyam quickly grabbed the satchel slung over his shoulder and placed it in front of him, while you opened your own bag. "Well, I whipped up some oral paste for when Ateyo's little teeth start coming in, and to keep our breath minty fresh," you proudly shared.

"So that's where you got the new outfit from." Neteyam's keen observation about your new outfit brought a grin to your face. As you playfully twirled the seashell containing the paste in your hand, your boys gently explored the fabric of your top, their hands filled with curiosity.

"In fact, I had some extra material, so..." Your voice trailed off with anticipation as you reached into your bag to put the paste away, before revealing the woven bracelets with a radiant smile. "I made something special for my boys."

Neteyam's eyes widen with excitement as he takes in the two bracelets that you held in the air. "Did you really make these for us?" he asks in awe, grabbing them from your grasp to show them to Ateyo. The bracelets are intricately woven from the leaves you collected from the plant from the waterfall. Each one crafted from nothing but love resulting in a one-of-a-kind gift. "They're absolutely stunning, babygirl! I can't express how much I'll cherish this," he exclaims. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart." Neteyam plants a soft kiss on your cheek before placing the bracelets on Ateyo's wrist and his own. "You're so talented." He cradles Ateyo hand in his marveling at the matching bracelets then he leans in for a long, romantic kiss on your lips.

"Really it was nothing," you mumbled against his lips hearing Ateyo gurgling as he instantly brought his wrist to his mouth to suck on the woven jewelry. "Just wanted to do something special for my boys that's all."

Neteyam shook his head wearing a huge grin kissing you again before pulling away to open his own bag making your nose flare as you smell that aroma again. Shifting Ateyo in your arms you grabbed Neteyam's wrist making him halt his movements to turn to you. "I smell it again." This had Neteyam lift his face, appearing lost in thought as if he was pondering something.

"Maybe," he began, causing you to release your grasp on him and instead rest your hand on his thigh. "We also went berry picking," he stated, pulling out a small purple berry and raising it to your lips. Without hesitation, you accepted it, even though you could smell that pheromone lingering on the fruit. Then, it hit you.

"Was it Marali's trees that you both ventured to?" Marali, a wise and experienced Na'vi woman, has dedicated her years to nurturing a magnificent array of plants that sustain our village. As she gracefully ages, her body started to undergo a natural transformation, signaling the end of her ability to bear children. This change brings about a shift in a Na'vi women's scent, which grows more potent as her womb determines that her time for motherhood has passed.

"Indeed, it was," Neteyam declared with a knowing smile. "The moment she laid eyes on Junior, she couldn't resist him. Can you blame her? He bears an uncanny resemblance to me." Playfully rolling your eyes, you bumped into his shoulder. As his words sank in, a warm blush spread across your cheeks, making you realize the intensity of your earlier outburst. Sensing the shift in your emotions, Neteyam leaned in and planted a soft, affectionate kiss on your lips.

Whispering sweetly, he said, "I adore your protective nature, yawne. I adore everything about you. You do so much for our family." His words made your heart flutter, and tears of joy welled up in your eyes. Lost in the moment, you didn't even notice him discreetly pulling something out of the sachet, cradling it in his hand.

You felt Ateyos's head on your chest drop slightly from drowsiness. Neteyam opened his hands, revealing a sight that left you in awe. It was a magnificent woven necklace, a true work of art. The intricate patterns and vibrant colors mesmerized you. The delicate clay pendant held a tiny heart at its center, resembling delicate fingerprints, with a sprinkle of tiny crystals embedded in the material. With gentle fingers, you traced the contours of the tiny heart, feeling a sense of connection. "It's Ateyo thumbs pressed together to make a heart."

You take the necklace from Neteyam and examine the detail of the jewelry. The intricate curves and creased of Ateyo's little thumbs are captured perfectly and the jewelry shines brightly. You're overwhelmed with emotion as you clutch the necklace to your chest.

"I love you, Neteyam," you declare, your voice filled with affection. Your lips meet his in a deep, passionate kiss, expressing the depth of your love. As you hold him close, mindful of Ateyo nestled on your chest, you cherish the bond you share as a family. Although it's been some time since you last pumped milk from your breasts, the ache is starting to make its presence known. However, you choose to set aside the discomfort, not wanting anything to spoil this precious moment between you and Neteyam.

You were truly amazed by the necklace, rendering you almost speechless. It's a precious keepsake that immortalizes your son's tiny thumbs, allowing you to carry it with you always. Neteyam delicately takes the necklace and places it around your neck, softly brushing his lips over the spot where the clay meets your skin making your breast feel even heavy under his touch.

"I'm so glad you love it, Y/n," Neteyam exclaims with a smile. "Whenever I see you wearing it, it will always bring back memories of Ateyo." He gently strokes your chin, his touch tender and affectionate. "The crystal and colors I chose are a perfect match for you." Your heart swells with a mix of emotions as Neteyam vegans to showers you with kisses.

You tilted your head to give him more room as he nibbled on your neck, causing an involuntary gasp to escape your lips. In that moment, a small mishap occurred as the inside of your top got wet. The fullness in your breasts caused a bit of milk to leak.

The air filled with the sweet scent of your milk, causing mixed reactions from those around. You felt a bit embarrassed, but Neteyam's eyes showed a different emotion. Just as you were about to speak, Ateyo's hungry cries interrupted the tender moment. You chuckled playfully, and Neteyam grinned, shaking his head. He gently removed the Iveh k'nivi s'dir from his chest and suggested, "Should we put the necklace aside and take care of our little warrior's needs?"

"Shhh, Ateyo, I've got you," you whispered, gently comforting the baby, while Neteyam helped you take off the lovely necklace. He then rose to prepare the nursing area for the three of us. Once the space felt warm and inviting, Neteyam reached for his sachet and pulled out a small wooden jar. He walked over to you, helping you to your feet, and tenderly planted kisses on Ateyo's soft scalp, soothing him. "We swung by Mo'at's, and I picked up some oil that's good for your sensitive nipples," he shared, causing a rosy blush to grace your cheeks as Neteyam sported a mischievous smirk. "I know he's a determined eater because Rini... Well, she couldn't help but make funny faces during his early lunch. She even mentioned that their own son doesn't eat that aggressively, which made me feel even more sympathetic. But you, you never complain, yawne. You're an incredible mama."

You kissed Neteyam's lips, placing your finger in Ateyo's mouth to soothe him. "Neteyam, I have nothing to complain about." You admitted letting him guide you to the nursing area. "Our family is everything I've ever wanted." You and Neteyam share a kiss as he helped you untie your top, releasing your breast out in the comfort of your home.

Neteyam lifted up the top of the jar grabbing a little amount of solidified oil and rubbed it into his hands to turn it into a liquid before looking at you like he was asking permission making you grin out a nod. In a complete non sexual manner, your mate softly applied the oil over your sensitive tits. "Suppose to have a cold feel to the skin," experiencing his soft but strong hands over your heavy breasts felt so good. "... to release some of the pain and Mo'at said that the oil can even keep Ateyo's lips soft."

"Really?" you mumbled, adjusting your son to a comfortable position and allowing him to latch onto your breast. He drank eagerly, while you could already feel the effects from the mixture.

"Yeah, daddy might have to check it out for himself." This had you rolling your eyes at his silliness, while Neteyam only snickered. He rose to his feet and sat behind you, pulling you into his warm chest, allowing you to sink into him and letting him carry the weight of you and his son.

As Ateyo nurses noisily from your chest, Neteyam smiles fondly at the peaceful sight and reaches an arm around your body to caress his son's head. Ateyo pauses for a moment to look up at his parents before getting back to sucking. Your eyes couldn't move away from your little handsome man, and you find yourself saying, "Neteyam, you really spoil me too much. Not only did you give me the cutest, sweetest baby, but you genuinely take such good care of me. I feel selfish sometimes."

Neteyam softly caressed your back, a smile appearing on his face radiating with pride at your appreciation. "As your husband, it's my duty to take care of you," he responds, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I want you to always be happy and well taken care of. Along with Ateyo, you both are my life." Neteyam leans in and plants a kiss on your temple as Ateyo continues to feed. "But yes, I'll admit that spoiling you is one of my favorite activities." He chuckles, his fingers leaving your back to caress your cheek. "I don't expect anything in return because you already do so much for us. I love making you feel special."

Without your knowledge, earlier Neteyam had discreetly placed the satchel near the nursery area. He momentarily shifted to grab the pouch, then settled back behind you and your son. With a gentle gesture, he presented a berry to your lips, saying, "Now eat, because I know you're hungry after nursing our little one."

Your eyes light up as you feel an unexpected berry against your lips. You turn head and shift your eyes to meet Neteyam's eyes, which are filled with a playful gleam. The two of you share a mischievous smile and you take the berry, eating it hungrily. "You didn't have to do this, Neteyam," you say, your cheeks flushed and your eyes shining. "But I'm very glad that you did." The two of you share another sweet moment together before Neteyam reaches back to the satchel, feeding you another one.

As you savor the last bite of the berry, the sweet juice lingers on your tongue. With Neteyam's gentle caresses and tender kisses, you feel comforted in his embrace. The three of you, united as a family, share this precious, quiet moment together. Closing your eyes, you let the warmth of the scene envelop you, filling your heart with pure happiness for our small but hopefully soon growing family.

Hoped you like it feedback is appreciated!!!

~ Caroline

#neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam #neteyam fluff #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fic #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 years

Text

A Mother for a Son

Summary: As Aemond leaves for a campaign at Storms End, he leaves his very pregnant wife struggle to bring their child into the world, suffering the consequences | Mini-Series Masterlist

Warnings: Childbirth, Death, Major Angst, tbh this is pure angst and nothing else to it I just like making myself sad, sorry

You hissed in pain as you tried to stand up straight, one hand instinctively resting on your lower back. A deep inhale didn't help matters either, but you felt maybe it was better than trying to soldier through the tightness. One hand was clamped around the handle of the chair, feet shuffling to go to sit in front of the fire and as you slumped into the chair, finally feeling the relief and pressure off your feet, your hand rested on the large bump on your belly. The infant inside as if feeling the touch of its mother kicked back, hurting slightly but it still bought a smile to your face.

"I wish you would not take your time, little one" you muttered, eyes wandering to the crackling fire, its heat almost soothing you through your thin nightdress. These days you had no use for heavy evening dresses, the past few weeks you had been confined to your nightdress exclusively as the pregnancy progressed to the end.

Your eyes fluttered open as your felt his hand on your swollen belly, your own lifting up to hold his arm lovingly, eyes meeting his lilac one. He looked down at you with such admiration and your heart swelled with love feeling his hands rub the bump.

He was dressed in his leathers to ride, braced for the cold that the storm outside would no doubt bring. Despite this, he knelt at your side, taking your hand to bring tenderly to his lips, peppering small kisses to your fingers, your palm and eventually on your unborn child. Your first child.

Your fingers delicately rubbed across his cheek, the only sound was the fire crackling and he wanted nothing more than to just stay with you, take care of you, for he knew how much pain you were in so late into the pregnancy.

"Must you go" you ask your husband. His eye opens to meet you again, a soft, sad look on his features.

"I must" he answered sadly, seeing your response, "I wish I did not have to, especially seeing the pain you are in, gevie ābrazȳrys"

You chuff at his words, "I do not feel beautiful. I feel like I am going to burst and every time they kick it hurts tremendously" you answer. Aemond smiled and looked back at the bump,

"Iksan qrīdrughagon, gaomagon daor ōdrikagon aōha muña, zaldrītsos" he says, making you smile.

The baby seemed to respond, a small kick appearing in his direction, earning a quiet laugh from you, "They heard you. Blood of the dragon indeed"

He seemed to linger by your side for a moment, taking your hands in his, a worried expression was clear on his features.

"I worry about you, my love. This is our first child, and you seem to be in such pain"

"Aemond…" you respond, touched by his concern. A concern that most husbands would not have for their wives. You reached out to his face, thumb grazing over the bottom of his scar. His lids seemed to flutter at your touch before meeting you again, as if in such bliss. "…my love, do not worry. Your mother has an army of midwives and she herself has had four children, I am in good hands"

There was a pause as you sat up in the chair, "Our child gives me strength, if they are anything like their father" you smile and so does he. Aemond seems to find this answer satisfactory as he leans up and gives you a tender kiss to your lips, feeling the warmth from your face on his. His hand rests on your jaw, pulling you further towards him as if wanting more, making your smile against his kiss. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, eyes focussed down on you,

"Please be careful" you say and he nods. He turned to leave, his hand lingering on yours for a moment before doing so, almost not wanting to leave, whether it be a small voice in his head telling him or not. He looked back once at the door, relishing the view he had before him. His pregnant wife, sat in front of the fire, smiling back lovingly at him. He nodded to you, muttering 'my lady wife' before leaving.

You felt a heaviness in your chest as he left, more in the hope that he would not be reckless once out on Vhagar. He could so often get carried away, you thought to yourself. Outside, the wind howled loudly and you could see the dark grey clouds in the sky run across the sky quickly, the rain creating rivers, you had not seen a storm this bad in King's Landing for a while. One could not tell if it was morning or evening, it was so dark with clouds.

A day had passed in King's Landing, but nobody would have known it. The storm raged on and on, the sun had yet to make an appearance and you had not heard a word from your husband. You stood at the window, hands tied together with anxiety, looking out at all the trees barren of their leaves, the wind having stripped them of their greenery. You took a deep breath, a kick from the baby landing straight on your bladder and you quickly took a seat at the window.

"Heed your father's warning, little one" you say, one hand rubbing over the large bump, remembering the way Aemond had spoken to the unborn child.

A knock at the door broke you out of this trance, Ser Criston Cole stepped in, "Yes?" you inquire.

"Queen Alicent, Princess"

You nodded and he stepped aside to allow the Queen to enter your chambers, a worried look on her features. She had her hair down as if to go to sleep but was dressed with a silk green robe over her, hands clasped together she offered a small smile which you reciprocated.

"You look tired, my dear" she said, coming to sit beside you once the door had closed. Your hand was still supporting the bump as if the weight was pulling down on you, you nodded.

"It is so, your Grace. I do not sleep at all with the weight of the baby" you answer, letting out a small groan of pain.

"I am sure the worry for my son is not helping your condition" she said, this is when your eyes met. You nodded sadly, looking out the window now.

"I worry about him, your Grace. Although you must also, I imagine. He is your son" you offer her a smile.

"Yes…" she trails off, "…I remember the day he was born. He was an easy labour, an easy child, seldom crying"

This made you smile, of course he would have been a good child. As if the gods had formed him themselves, you could only wish the same for your child.

Alicent had always been good to you and she was ecstatic to find you with child many moons ago. Of course, she already had grandchildren from Halaena and Aegon, but this time it was different, she was more attentive, almost overly so. Aemond had been the same when you informed him, excited but restrained somewhat. He often ran you baths to soothe your aching body, dressing you in moments of weakness, you could not have wished for a better and more attentive husband. His kindness astounded you.

You went to say something, when a pain hit you in a new place, sending a shock of pain through your hips. You moaned out in pain, louder this time, clutching your thighs and leaving marks where your fingers had been.

"What is wrong, my dear?" you heard Alicent say, but her voice was muffled through the wall of blurred pain you were still experiencing. That had been different, you thought, and your mind raced with the possibilities. The pregnancy was nearing its end and this was the thought that worried you the most, your hands began to shake in fear.

"Something is wrong…" you said quietly, so hushed thar Alicent had not heard you as you starting to slowly kneel to the ground, one hand in front to stabilise yourself.

Alicent herself got on the floor in front of you so as to hear you better, one hand placed at your arm in comfort. Your hand brushed your thigh and you pulled it from beneath your nightdress to find that your entire palm was bright red with blood, Alicent was now silent, taking one wide look at your hand and then into your eyes.

Your eyes had welled up with tears, some for the pain and some for the fear, but you met Alicent's eyes.

"Something is wrong" you said more clearly now.

The wave of pain began just then and like a military operation, midwives surrounded you, setting down dark towels on the bed to place you on top. As you were laid on the bed, the pain worsened and you kept screaming out with every contraction, the midwives and Alicent attempting to calm you down without any help whatsoever.

Now, the room had filled up with a dozen people, two of which were the Hightowers huddled in the corner. Alicent's face was red with worry and he kept rubbing her hands together, speaking in low voices with her father,

"This is not usual" Alicent said to her father, he shook his head, eyes every now and then landing on you reeling in pain on the bed, "even with four children, father, I know that this should not happen"

"Has word been sent to Aemond?" he asked, Alicent nodded her head quickly, "What has been said"

"That the Princess has begun her labours"

"Good, it would be best to leave the in-depth details"

You shook your head, wanting the pain to just cease, muttering under your breath Make it stop, make it stop. You pulled yourself to your knees weakly, grasping the bed frame, being upright making the pain slightly less unbearable. You could feel the pressure of the baby trying to make its way out, this feeling remained through the next contraction.

"Where is my husband!" you scream out, Alicent is at your side immediately, holding your hand,

"He is on his way back, my dear, you are doing brilliantly" she said, you held her hand tightly. Through your blurry vision you saw Halaena had entered the room, perhaps to offer some support, but the thought left your head as quickly as it had entered as another quick contraction ripped through you like a dagger.

"I need him, I need him now. Something is wrong, Alicent…" all pleasantries of titles were thrown out of the window as the pain seared through you, like a hot poker had been pressed harder and harder into you.

"You are doing well, my dear, I know it is painful but you just have to push" she said. You swear you could hear the wood splinter as you grabbed the bedframe again, fingernails dug deep in it to alleviate the pain inside your body. The midwife sat behind you pulled your shift to your waist to examine.

The midwife slowly approached Otto in the corner, "She is not progressing quick enough, we must consider the possibilities"

Otto looked sadly at Alicent, who as if knowing exactly what they had been talking about, turned back to you, placing a cloth to your forehead, face and chest now shining with sweat.

"Listen to me, my dear. You have to push for us, okay?" she instructed, motherly instincts now kicking in.

"An eye for an eye…" Halaena said quietly from the corner, nobody having heard her, "…a mother for a son…"

"I can't…" you reply, breathless, "…it hurts…please…where is my husband…" you ask in between breaths, contractions ramping up again. You looked over to Alicent, tears streaming down your face, her look was fierce now. She knew the pain of a child, she knew how the will wavered during labour and this knowledge seemed to spur her on to support you.

"You can" she simply said and you took a deep breath, pinning your eyes shut and pushing with all your might. Various hands reached at you, some in joy at finally seeing the head of the child you had so long laboured for finally appear. You gripped Alicent's hand tightly, taking in another deep breath to push once more.

"Just a little more, Princess!"

With one final scream and push, you felt the baby vacate you and an empty feeling dawned upon you. You found you were still gripping the bedframe hard, face still shining with sweat, body still shaking.

"Congratulations, Princess. You have a very healthy boy" once of the midwives said as they cleaned your baby. You heard his cries but they never registered, you still felt completely dissociated, dizzy…

Your back met the back of the bed, finally being able to lay down after so much toil, Alicent had a sad look on her face, still dabbing your forehead, "Well done" she said quietly.

Your heavy eyes landed on the midwife next to you, who was handing you the small bundle which your weak arms gratefully took. You looked down at the tiny human in your arms, with little wisps of hair on top. The child was barely bothered about the trouble it had caused and had its thumb in its mouth, breathing quietly. You could not help but smile down at the child, your finger running over his cheek slowly, they were flushed with the loveliest colour.

Aemond would be thrilled, you thought.

You looked up to Alicent, she was craned over, doting on the child already, "He is wonderful, my dear. Well done"

You smiled weakly, eyes fluttering closed, "I feel…tired…" you say weakly. Alicent furrowed her brows, seeing your face go pale slightly and arms go weak. Her eyes found the sheets and pulled them back, only to find the entire bed soaked in blood.

"Get the maesters, now!" Alicent said, but your senses were too blurred to notice what she had said, or how you were feeling. You could not explain how you felt exactly, there was pain to be sure, but it was disappearing second by second and a warm feeling was replaced. Feeling weaker by the second, Alicent quickly took the child from your arms, your hand instinctively went to reach out.

"Where is…Aemond…" you ask, his name ghosting on your lips over and over as midwives rushed out and maesters rushed in. But you barely noticed as your vision faded, smiling as you imagine Aemond with his child.

The next few hours were a blur for the Red Keep. Alicent had confined herself to her own chambers, sitting disassociated in her armchair, the child now with the maids for care. Opposite her sat her father, Otto, who was also absent-mindedly staring into the fire. The storm had finally passed, leaving just the dark night sky behind, scattered with stars and the big bright moon.

Alicent bit her lip to stop herself from crying, fingers grasping the arms of her chair tightly.

At the door, Ser Criston, "The Prince is back, my Queen" he simply said. With lightning speed, Alicent raced up, Criston Cole not far behind, briskly walking through the Red Keep's corridors to meet her son before anyone else.

At the end of the hallway, Aemond had rounded the corner, looking wet through and heavy. He met his mother's eyes, but he seemed vacant and Alicent felt her heart panic, did he already know? She thought to herself.

She ran to her son, taking his cold hands in hers. His mouth hung slightly open as if to say something, "Aemond, what happened? You are freezing" she said hurriedly. It took a few moments for Aemond himself to have the courage to face his mother, to find the right words for what he had done…

"Mother…" he finally replied. Alicent was surprised when she found his eyes, he looked as if he was going to cry, his face was wind struck, hair still damp and his voice was barely a whisper, "…I fear I must tell you…the terrible thing I have done…" he said.

Alicent gripped her son's hands tighter, behind her Halaena had stopped to stand next to Criston Cole, this made Aemond's mind rush slightly, why were so many people anticipating his return…unless they knew.

"Do not worry about that now, let us get you warm-"

"I lost control" he simply interrupted, Alicent fell silent, furrowing her brows.

"What do you mean?"

"I was just trying to frighten him…I…." he trailed off, his eyes found the floor, a spot of rain fell down his face.

"Aemond, what happened" Alicent asked, just wanting a straight answer.

Aemond could no longer process it and fell to his knees, Alicent held his head against her as if in protection of her large son, "Luke…"

A wave of realisation hit Alicent at what he meant and she looked behind her at Criston and her daughter, Halaena was already looking down muttering to herself, a mother for a son, a mother for a son. It was only here that Alicent had realised what Halaena actually meant and her face went white as a sheet, her hand still being grasped by her son, kneeling on the floor.

After gathering some part of himself, Aemond stood finally, allowing the servants to take his soaked coat away from him.

"Where is my wife?" he asked quietly, taking a breath. There is was, the fated question. Alicent was silent again and almost stood stock still in her place before realising Aemond was walking down the corridor to his chambers, where he knew his wife would be.

"Aemond!" Alicent shouted after him, "Aemond, stop!"

Ser Criston joined in the chase, going to push Aemond back out the room as soon as he had entered, attempting to shield him from this hurt. But it had been too late.

His eyes scanned the room for a moment, there were many maesters and maids in the room before him. The maids all paused to give the Prince a curtsey before resuming their duties, before continuing to wash the blood stained sheets in the pink water before them. The sheer sight of this horrified Aemond, making his heart sink into his stomach.

Criston's hand had been on his chest the entire time, "My Prince, it is best you leave" he said, making eye contact with Alicent who was standing by the door, a sad expression on her face.

Aemond did not violently break free, but simply stepped forward into the room. His face was still, mouth slightly agape as he saw a bloodied figure laying in the bed, but still not confirming who it may have been.

The maester who was hovering over the figure turned to the Prince, "My Prince, please, we are preparing the body-"

Aemond had ignored everyone and continued over to the bed. His breath died in his throat when he saw you, his wife, the entire bottom half of the bed caked in dark blood. You lay there on the bed, eyes slightly opened and your bloodied hand reaching out for nothing, Aemond had realised now he had fallen to his knees on the floor before the bed.

"No…" is all he said, his hands shakily reached out to take your outstretched one, surprised by the still and coldness of it. He felt the hot tears begin to spill down his face as he looked upon yours, "….my love, please…"

He could not help the feeling of guilt that spread in his chest, consuming his heart. Whether he liked it or not, he had become a murderer, a kinslayer, in a mere night. He had taken away someone's son, so his son took away his wife.

He felt the desire to avenge your death, but the tears flowed quicker with the knowledge that nobody was responsible for your death, except for him. He knew women often succumbed to blood loss and infections from childbirth, but thought that because of your pure soul and the unwavering love you had for him, surely you would be exempt from such a cruel fate.

Aemond did not leave you the entire evening until forced to by the maesters and the sisters.

How the gods could be cruel, he thought, when confined to his own room. He had not even dared look at his newborn son, fearing he may inflict some kind of doom on him also. Or maybe he feared he might push guilt onto the baby for your death. He had what any noble gentleman wanted, a son. But he did not feel any richer from this and was instead consumed by loss for weeks.

When he eventually spurred up the courage to see his son for the first time, he could not shift the ghost of your face that was visible in the child's features. He only felt empty. Like a part of his soul had been ripped from him. Perhaps this part of him would be lost forever.

Alicent never saw her son again as she knew him before.

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond angst #aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond x OC #Aemond x Reader #lady alicent #alicent hightower #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd angst #halaena targaryen #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #house of the dragon

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corroded-hellfire · 7 months

Note

Reading AYW things has me thinking about Eddie and Reader sniffing baby Eliza right after they bring her home and she’s got that fresh baby smell and Luke and Ryan are like “what are they doing?”

-cj. @cheesewritings

Just out here fueling my own baby fever. Please enjoy some lil baby Eliza 💕

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Less than a month has gone by since you’ve given birth to your and Eddie’s baby girl and yet so much has changed. Your hormones still give you mood swings from time to time. Eddie feels a bit more tired than usual between being up at odd hours of the night and trying to make sure you and Eliza are being taken care of while still keeping Ryan and Luke’s normal weekly routine going. The boys dote over their baby sister, but their sleep has definitely been impacted as well by the high-pitched wailing that comes just down the hall every night. One morning at breakfast before school, Luke fell asleep with half of his face in his bowl of Corn Flakes.

But every small discomfort is well worth it to have the most beautiful baby girl you’ve ever seen. Her eyes already threaten to be as wide and doe-like as her father’s and you know you’ll be in deep trouble then. The soft wispy baby hairs on her head are similar in color to Eddie’s and her eyebrows have the same arch as his. Eliza absolutely has your nose and lips though. Your husband swears it’s as if God copy and pasted the features right from you to your daughter. Whenever she smiles though, you see her brothers. It may still be gas for her at this age, but the smile that upturns her pretty pink mouth is the spitting image of what you see on the faces of your sons. Munson charm in full effect.

Evenings have been the most unpredictable so far. Will Eliza be awake? Asleep? Hungry? Fussy? Happy? Content? Not to mention what Eddie or the boys will be like.

Tonight is a good night, though. The boys are down the hall playing video games in Ryan’s room, and you and Eddie are cuddled up on the couch, Eliza snuggly cradled between your arms. Spider-Man is playing on the television, but you’d both forgotten about the movie the second that your daughter woke up, about fifteen minutes into the superhero flick.

“Oh, look what a big mouth you have!” you coo as your daughter releases a tiny yawn, as if she hasn’t spent most of her day sleeping. You envy the hours of rest infants need.

Eddie gazes down at her adoringly and the love shining in his eyes threatens to have your heart burst right through your ribs. It’s no secret that he’s always wanted a daughter and it’s still dizzying to think that you’re the one to give that to him.

Soft, gurgling baby noises come from the baby’s mouth as she looks back and forth from you to her father. Both you and Eddie chuckle when she lifts her small arms above her head, then on the way down stops to stick her tiny fingers in her mouth.

“God, she’s perfect,” Eddie muses, and you’re not sure if you were meant to hear it or he was just thinking aloud. Either way, he’s right. Every little thing about her has captured your heart.

Slowly, Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to her soft forehead.

“And she smells so good,” Eddie adds, making you giggle.

“I know!” you agree. “What is it about that new baby smell?”

Gently, you lift Eliza so her head is more level with yours and Eddie’s. As one, you both lean in and inhale the scent wafting off your daughter. The baby doesn’t seem to mind, but it looks like she’s trying to figure out what you’re doing by the way she keeps looking at you. And she’s not the only one.

“What are they doing?” Luke mutters to his older brother from where they stand off to the side of the hallway connecting the living room to the rest of the house.

“Smelling her,” Ryan answers with a shrug.

“Uh, why?” Luke furrows his brows as he watches the scene on the couch in confusion.

“Seeing if she needs a diaper change? I don’t know,” Ryan says.

“But they’re smiling. No one would ever smile around one of Eliza’s dirty diapers,” Luke says, having plenty of experience to back up that claim.

“Maybe they washed her hair,” Ryan offers with another shrug. “I don’t know, I guess she just smells good.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment before he tilts his head up to look at his brother.

“Do they ever smell you?”

“No,” Ryan says with a sigh, this conversation already exhausting him.

“Do they smell me when I’m not looking?” Luke asks, more rhetorical this time.

“Yes, we all do,” Ryan goads. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you about taking more baths.”

The younger Munson boy glowers at his brother and stomps past him into the living room.

“Um, does she smell?” Luke asks as he approaches the couch.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, looking up at his son with a grin. “She’s got that new baby smell. C’mere.”

He gestures for Luke to lean in and smell the top of Eliza’s head. The boy does and when he pulls back, he’s smiling.

“She kind of smells like cheese.”

The words make you giggle, and you lay your head on your husband’s shoulder as Eddie cradles Eliza against his chest.

“Ryan! She smells like cheese!”

“What?” Ryan asks as he walks over.

“Yeah, but like actual cheese. Not a Cheeto or the stuff in a can.”

Ryan frowns. “Didn’t you just eat a whole bottle of Cheez Wiz yesterday?”

“You did what?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at his youngest son.

“I said it wasn’t real cheese,” Luke says to Ryan, ignoring his father completely. “Not that it wasn’t delicious. Now smell,” Luke urges him.

Ryan gives his little brother a skeptical look, but when you give him a reassuring nod, he leans in and sniffs her hair.

“It’s like…baby powder. But…I don’t know, fresher?” Ryan isn’t sure how to describe it, but he certainly doesn’t think cheese is the word he’d use.

“Do all babies have it?” Luke asks as he takes a seat next to you.

“Most do,” Eddie tells him. “You both did.”

“When did I lose it? Or do I still have it?” Luke tries to yank one of his curls straight so he can get a good whiff of it, but to no avail.

“It goes away after a few weeks or months,” Eddie says.

“What causes it?” Ryan asks.

Your husband smiles and you can tell he loves the boys asking him these questions. He’d sit here and talk to them about Eliza—or anything, really—all day.

“I don’t know, pal,” Eddie says.

“It’s like new car smell!” Luke adds.

“But better,” you say, poking his tummy in his most ticklish spot. He giggles and squirms around at your side. Once he’s calmed, Luke slumps against your arm and watches Eliza fuss a little in Eddie’s arms.

“Even when she loses that baby smell,” Luke says, poking you in the thigh with a small bony forefinger, “I hope she grows up to smell like you and not Daddy.”

Eddie’s jaw drops open as he turns his head towards Luke. You want to make some sort of witty remark, but you can’t think of any. Plus, you’re laughing way too hard to speak.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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mekochansblog · 1 month

Text

Missed me?

Five Hargreeves x reader

You were walking around the house, who’s house you didn’t know. It’s been a while since you’ve seen your husband. You don’t remember how you got here, but you do remember seeing a bright light the last time you closed your eyes. You remember waking up and you were surrounded with a beautiful house and an amazing view. Also two kids, whose kids? You got a clue that they were yours, since they did look like you and your husband. It felt like time didn’t move here. Everyday felt like a blessing to you. With your kids and doing things you couldn't, it was fun. You went towards the kitchen and started making lunch for you and your children when all out of sudden you heard a crash. You jumped in fright and ran towards the crash, you heard your kid screaming for you. You panicked more and ran faster. You skidded and almost crashed into a desk and panted and looked around in panic. Your oldest son Eugene looked at you with panic. His emerald eyes widening at the sight of two men fighting. You waved your hand at Eugene letting him know to not involve himself with whoever it was that was fighting. You somehow were able to seperate the two men. Once you did you saw their faces. Your eyes widened at the lanky man and a bulk man?

“Who are you guys?” you whisper.

The men stopped fighting and looked at you. They looked at you confused. Not knowing why you were here when they haven’t met another person that also interacted. Eugene came from where he was hiding and put a protective hand around you. That’s when the two men saw Eugene. He resembled Five so much. Looked like him too.

“Five?” they said in synch.

Your eyebrows furrowed hearing your husband’s name. You turned to look at your son and realize why they said your husband’s name. You were about to correct them when the lanky man walked slowly towards Eugene.

“F…Five how did you…. Did dad kill you too?” He gasped out.

You blink your eyes multiple times at what he said. Hold up what? What is going on that he said that to your son. You stood in front of the lanky man and lightly pushed him away from your son.

“How did you..I.. I don’t know who you are but his name is Eugene Hargreeves…he’s my son….. His father is Five Hargreeves…” You murmur, scared that this person knew your husband.

The lanky person looks at you and then at Eugene, he does a double take and then lets out a breathy laugh clapping his hands. You looked at him like he was deranged not knowing what was happening. You looked at the other guy and he just smiled at you awkwardly. You give him a weak smile. The muscle man then lets you know where you are. You passed away, in the apocalypse in the arms of the man that had your heart. Your eyes blinked, you shook your head, your eyes started to tear up. You didn’t want to believe it. He was lying. You were alive and living. You were living with your two kids. Your 15 year old son and your 6 year old daughter. You covered your mouth to stop the sobs that were about to come out. Your knees buckled and your son held you before you actually fell down on the ground.

It was a lie.

This life was a lie.

You were dead.

Your kids weren’t real.

This felt like a nightmare.

You finally let out a sob. You shook your head and with your head trembling you banged on the floor with your fists. Your son held you and grabbed your hands. You wanted to push him away but how could you. He was still your son whether it was real or not. You raised him. He was here in this world when you got here too. He was just an infant and you raised him. He was your son whether it was all a hallucination or not. You looked at the lanky man and with a trembling voice you asked.

“Who… who are you?”

The lanky man looked at you and then looked at the big buff guy. They had a silent discussion with each other but then the buff guys looked at you and bent down to your height. He gave you a nervous smile and with one last look at the lanky man he put out a hand out for you to shake.

“My name is Luther and this here is Klaus we are… Well, Five is our brother.”

You stared at them. You knew trying to look for a resemblance was futile due to Five being adopted. You knew it was also useless asking them questions about your husband. Well unless they have been with him for the past who knows how many years you have been here, but it wouldn't hurt to ask still.

“How… How is he? Has he been eating? Taking care of himself? Did he save you guys from the apocalypse?”

You fired out questions. You knew you needed answers. You wanted to know how your husband was after you passed away. Who knows how his mind worked when you passed away. Klaus looked at Luther and he let out a nervous laugh. Oh great he was doing a shit job at taking care of himself, you thought. You put a hand out to stop him before he told you how he was and quickly ran towards your room to change. You looked in your closet for some clothes that will be comfortable to fight and move around. You glanced at an eggshell white puffy shirt. It had ruffles on the neck and it was a shirt that was thin so you wouldn't get hot easily. You quickly grabbed it and put it on while you looked to see what bottoms would go with it. You saw a black skirt that went all the way to a bit past your knees. It was snuggled on the waist but became flare at the end. You held it up a bit to put on a knife holster and a gun one. You didn't know what would happen but you wanted to be safe. You then froze. What about your children?

What would happen to them if you decided to go with your brothers-in-law? Will they still exist? Will they disappear once you leave? That's it you can leave with them. You close your eyes and with a shaky sigh put on some knee high socks and small 3 inch heel boots. You let out a deep breath and headed to where your family was. Klaus glanced at you and blinked his eyes. You looked ready to murder. Maybe that's why Five was so in love with you. He did describe you as someone that was strong and skilled when they both went on that crazy adventure to find his mother. Luther stared at you and then gave you a nervous smile worried on his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to go in a skirt if we could take you?”

You looked at him up and down.

“I could tear you apart if I wanted. Don't test my limits just because of a lousy skirt.”

You remarked. Luther blinked multiple times and just nodded his head slowly. Eugene came holding Evangeline and gave you a soft smile. Coming to hug you and give you a peck on the cheek. Your smile was watery while you hugged your kids tight. You gave each a kiss on the forehead how you used to do every time you put them to bed.

“Los amo demasiado. Los volveré a ver en el futuro. Okay take care of each other.”

You whimpered. Trying not to cry but a small tear fell. You then gave them another kiss and turned towards Klaus and Luther, but you only saw Luther standing them crying. You gave him a confused look and tried to look around hoping to see your other brother-in-law. When you got close to Luther you questioned him.

“Where’s Klaus?”

Luther looked at you and held your hand. You took one last glance at your kids and they waved at you while all you did was blow them a small kiss. Luther then let you know that Klaus can come back from the dead and was probably back with the family. You nodded your head and then started walking with him. Where? You don't know and don't ask, just let him guide you. He started asking questions about how life was here in the afterlife. You responded to the questions. You weren’t going to lie, you did love it here, it was peaceful, no apocalypse and you had your kids, but you did tell him you miss Five. After walking for a while you saw that Luther was flickering. You grew worried and panic started to settle into your body. You were scared he was leaving you.

Out of nowhere he did dissapear. That's when you full blown panic. You walked around not too far from where he disappeared. You screamed out his name, you started gasping and tried to catch your breath but nothing. Out of nowhere luther falls from the sky and falls with a big thump. You froze and just stared at him.

“Did they kill you again? Does your family not like you or what?”

You confusedly questioned him. All he did was groan and you hesitantly let out a hand to try to help him up. Which was a bad mistake due to him putting all his weight and making you fall also. He mumbled an apology and you just shook your head at him. You fidgeted with your fingers and looked at him expecting for him to tell you what happened. When he was about to tell you an elevator suddenly appeared out of nowhere. You both glanced at each other and held out his arm for you to hold. You gave him a small nod and held it. You both walked in and the elevator doors closed.

You both were blinded with a bright light, but it all faded when the doors opened. First Luther took cautious steps and he nodded his head for you to also take some steps out of the elevator. You took slow steps and looked around. You saw more people turn around and then that's when you saw him. Your husband.

“F…Five?”

Five turned around and his eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he just stared at you. His eyes got teary and his lips trembled, but he pursed his lips together in case he let out a sob. You slowly walked towards him and you blink fast but your face was already sticky from the silent tears that were slowly falling down your eyes. Five started to walk towards you until he was in front of you and he grabbed you so fast and held you. That's when you heard him break down. Your husband, the one person you know that will always put his walls up from everyone, was crying. Five was so relieved, he left like he hasn't seen you since forever, when in reality it's been around 2 months. He breathed in your smell and he let out a teary laugh. He touched you everywhere hoping he wasn't dreaming.

“You.. i.. I can… where… you..”

He sobbed. He couldn't let out a sentence without being a blubbering mess. You smiled fondly and held his cheek.

“Shh, shh i know i'm here. I miss you so much amor.”

You quietly cried out. He let out another teary laugh this one with so much emotion. His siblings stared at his brother and the woman. The person he was showing so much affection and love towards. Klaus smiled tearily and pulled al his siblings aside. Five looked at you and finally gave you a meaningful and loving kiss. One you found yourself lost in.

“Thats Five’s wife.”

He mumbled quietly to not disturbed the sweet and long moment he knew his brother deserved.

This is what you needed.

Your husband.

The love of your life.

Your soulmate.

Five finally kissed you and you sighed in bliss. You finally were in your husband arms again.

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thecharacterchronicler · 17 days

Text

Muse || Benedict Bridgerton x reader || Smut

GIF credits: @vengerb3rg

Outline: Your husband wants to paint your portrait but you feel a bit insecure about yourself.

Word count: 2’939

Warnings: parenthood with a newborn baby, insecurities/self deprecation about post-partum body, explicit smut.

Author’s note: this is prompt # 25 as requested. It gave me a whole new obsession for Benedict Bridgerton. Yikes.

You sat on the sofa, trying to focus on the book you were reading but couldn’t help but glance in Benedict’s direction instead. You were always eager to see what beautiful paintings he may be working on but tonight, it felt all the more special as his model was sound asleep in the crib next to him. A little over a year ago, when you had said your vows and became Mrs Bridgerton, you were absolutely certain that it wouldn’t be possible for you to love him more than you already did, you were head over heels for him, in admiration in front of his artistic talents, in adoration of his personality and unconditionally in love with every part of his soul… Yet, watching him so focused on his task, as he carefully observed his son before painting his traits on the canvas in front of him, eyes so full of tenderness for the sleeping infant and a smile that told the world how incredibly proud he felt to be a father was making your heart melt.

Even if you didn’t want to disturb him in his work, you couldn’t help but stand and saunter up behind him, to take a look at the progressing portrait. Your husband was blessed with a rare talent for art, his paintings always captured a beauty overlooked by most and displayed emotions in the most poetical ways, the first portrait of his son was no exception, already a masterpiece in your eyes.

“Perhaps it was preposterous of me to think myself capable of painting his portrait, I fear that, no matter how much time I spend on it, I’ll never do justice to how angelic our baby looks.” He said, as he added some pink hues to the image.

“I think you are doing well, it looks beautiful.” You reassured him, your arms coming around his shoulders to hug him from behind. He placed his palette on his lap to bring a hand up to touch yours, his thumb stroking your wrist as he leaned back against you.

“But look at him, no one could possibly paint such beauty accurately.”

You both turned to look at your baby, both of you sighing in admiration in unison as your son yawned in his sleep.

“It is true that he is particularly gorgeous.” You admitted, still having trouble to believe how blessed you had been to bring such a healthy and beautiful child into this world.

“It’s because he looks like you.” Benedict replied, without hesitation. “Ethereal beauty just like his mother.”

You blushed and hugged him a bit more tightly.

“He takes after you too.” You added, because it was the truth. If Benedict found your son beautiful because of the features you had passed on to him, you thought your baby was extremely handsome because of how much he resembled the love of your life too. “He has your eyes and your smile. The ton better be prepared for such a devastatingly handsome gentleman.”

Benedict huffed a laugh and planted a kiss on the back of your hand. He tilted his head up to look at you, with a familiar spark of mischief in his eyes.

“How about we bless the ton with a few more of our divine offsprings ?” He suggested, his fingers already trailing up your arm in a tantalizing caress. “Or perhaps I could paint another nude portrait of you tonight ?”

“Wouldn’t that lead to the same result ?” You playfully replied, which made him laugh loud enough to cause the baby to grimace and stir in his small crib. “I don’t think we need another portrait of me - especially naked - there are already too many in this house, and if anyone sees them I’ll be mortified.”

“Don’t worry about that, darling, the nude ones are for my personal enjoyement only.” He said, standing up from the stool and turning around to plant a feverish kiss on your lips.

You kissed him back, arms around his neck as he stepped forward with the intention of guiding you to the couch. But you stopped him with a hand on his chest, turning your head before he could press his mouth to yours again.

“He is sleeping like an angel, I do not want to wake him.” You told your husband, glancing in direction of the crib.

“You are right, we do not want him to wake up to the sound of his mother’s screams.” Benedict nodded, leaving you to go back to his son.

“Excuse me ? I do not scream.” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to look vexed by his remark.

“Oh you do scream, my darling. I don’t think you realize but you are very loud when you’re enjoying yourself, it’s my favorite thing.” He confirmed, a laugh escaping his lips when he noticed how you blushed at his words. “So I’m going to bring little mister Bridgerton back to his room, where he hopefully won’t hear you and then I’ll make you shout louder than ever.”

You exchanged a smile with him, your heart melting once more as you watched him carefully and gently pick up the baby from the small crib, cradling him in his arms with tenderness. He walked in your direction so that you could place a kiss goodnight on your baby’s forehead before he left the living room with him, already humming a soft lullaby to keep him sound asleep.

Once he got back, he stopped on the threshold to speak to one of the employees of your estate, requesting to not be disturbed for the rest of the night. You felt yourself blushing yet again at how painfully obvious what he was up to might be for your staff.

He closed the living room doors behind him with a satisfied smile but it instantly disappeared as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened at the sight of you, waiting for him with your dress already off.

He sat back on the stool in front of his easel, carefully placing the portrait of your son next to him as he switched it for a blank canvas. He looked over at you with attention, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

You did your best to pose, not daring to do it as suggestively as you used to back when you were newlyweds. Benedict had painted some filthy scenes involving you, and sometimes him too, and kept those paintings locked up in his office upstairs, making it a gallery devoted to his passion for you.

However, despite him being very clear on how much he loved every part of you, you couldn’t help but feel self conscious since the birth of your child. Your body had changed in ways you weren’t prepared for and, if your husband had seen you without garments on since, he had not painted your portrait in a while. The way his eyes were scrutinizing you, tracing round curves and long lines on the canvas, made you feel increasingly uncomfortable.

“Could you rest your arm over the edge of the sofa ? And perhaps part your legs slightly ?” Your husband asked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

You positioned yourself as requested, unable to silence the trembling breath that escaped your lips.

“Is something wrong, darling ? You seem tense.” He remarked, letting go of his pencil to fully focus his attention on you.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” You assured him, forcing a smile but he looked at you as if he could see straight through you.

“Mrs Bridgerton,” his tone was playfully severe, but hearing him call you by your new last name - his last name - sent a wave of emotion through your body. “If something - or someone - is bothering you, I must know immediately. I will not tolerate for my wife to be upset about anything as I vowed to care for you, always.”

“And you do it perfectly.”

“Then tell me, so I can take care of this issue too, whatever it is.” He pleaded.

“It’s nothing, really. I just don’t feel comfortable with the way I look lately.”

“The way you look ?” He repeated, standing up to keep the canvas from stealing his attention away from you. “What do you mean ?”

“I mean this.” You placed your hand on your belly, the skin not as firm and elastic as it used to be. Then, you moved it to your chest to point at your breasts, swollen and hanging lower than they used to. “And this.”

“But these are some of the best things about your body!” He exclaimed, clearly shocked that you could be so rude to yourself.

He walked to you with determination, getting down on his knees next to the sofa to level his face with yours, looking at you with a concerned expression on his face and heartbreak in his eyes, as if he was hurt about your own feelings about yourself.

He brought his hand to your belly, gently caressing it like he used to do when it was round and stretched out by your baby’s kicks..

“You grew a healthy and particularly gorgeous son in here.” He told you, tenderly. Then he moved his hand upwards, until he could caress the tender flesh of your breast. “And these are even bigger and softer than before, there is really no reason to feel so bad about yourself, you are a goddess, darling, you created life within your body.”

“So you’re not disappointed that I don’t look like I used to anymore ?”

“Absolutely not, how could I be ? I adored your body then, I still adore it now. I could fill a museum with my paintings of you, you obsess my every thoughts, you’re the only one I want to worship, for the rest of my life.”

“Benedict…” You breathed, your heart swelling with the intensity of your love for him.

“If you don’t believe me, darling, then I can show you exactly what the sight of your perfect body does to mine.” He suggested, his familiar somewhat mischievous grin returning to his face. He approached the couch on which you were lying down and began undoing his trousers, an eager expression on his face.

“Did you not want to paint me ?” You playfully asked him, with a knowing smirk.

“Always, darling. You know there is nothing I enjoy more than to look at the alluring curves of your body for hours but right now, I believe I’ll do a better job if I get my muse to relax a bit first.”

He pushed his pants down, his erection gloriously swinging up in your direction, hard and ready. It always amazed you how, knowing some of the promiscuous things he did in the past, the mere sight of your bare skin could get him in such a state. Sometimes, it happened during dinner, when you’d lean over the table slightly too far and he’d catch a glimpse of your décolletage. Sometimes, it was more inconveniencing, like when you shared your carriage with someone and the simple proximity of your body pressed up against his caused the blood to flow down to his shaft, always so alert and ready to take you, no matter if alone or not.

You knew he wasn’t lying when he said he loved your body as it was now, his puppy eyes and his gentle smile told you everything you needed to know when it came to his sincerity. Yet, you still felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Maybe I’d feel better if you were naked too.” You suggested, and he didn’t hesitate an instant, popping the buttons of his shirt one by one and letting it fall down to the luxurious carpet that covered the living room floor.

He dropped back on his knees next to the couch, his hands careful and gentle as they caressed your thighs, very subtly positioning you so that he could have access to the most intimate part of you. When, finally, your last bit of restraint faded underneath the warm kisses he pressed against your thighs, you allowed him to spread your legs apart and bury his face between them.

You instantly felt his tongue swirling around your clit and hungrily sucking on it until a moan fell from your lips. The tip of his tongue then continued its downward slide between your folds, tasting your arousal and mixing it with his saliva. Once he was as far down as the couch allowed him to go, you felt his tongue tentatively exploring your entrance, as if he was waiting for another moan to confirm that he was on the right track.

He placed his hand over your center, pressing down on your lower abdomen and flicking your clit with his thumb as he pushed his tongue past your tight walls, gently penetrating you with delight. His other hand went up to your chest, finding hold of your boob and squeezing it between his fingers as he increased the speed of his movements to follow the rythym of your whimpers that now were filling the room and his ears.

When you looked down at him, your head swimming from the intense jolts of pleasure he kept provoking inside you, you saw his gaze fixed to you, attentive to your reactions and sounds to tailor his next actions. They were filled with lust and adoration, as if you, writhing in front of him while he relished in your taste, was the most beautiful image he had ever had the privilege to witness.

You couldn’t help but buck your hips up in tune with his tongue, trying to get him in deeper. Since it still wasn’t enough to give you some relief from the intense pressure building in your core, you reached down to him, your hands pushing his head against you, probably suffocating him but you couldn’t help it, you needed to feel the bliss only he knew how to give you immediately.

Your orgasm suddenly washed over you, your entire body becoming oversensitive to eveything as it trembled and tensed. You squeezed his head between your thighs to stop him from continuing, unable to take it anymore, your chest heaving and your sounds of contentment still resounding in the room.

“Look at you, my darling. You’re absolutely bewitching when your pleasure makes you blush and your eyes shine with grateful tears.” Your husband said, freeing himself from the snare of your thighs around him. “There’s only one thing missing.”

You opened your mouth to ask what but you still were panting too rapidly to say a word. He rose to his feet, stroking his impressive cock in his hands a few times and you noticed how the pink tip glistened with precum, his thumb gently spreading its wetness along his entire length.

Then, he pressed his tip at your entrance and thrusted his hips forward, making you gasp from the sudden sensation. He buried himself entirely inside you, effortlessly, thanks to how soaked he had made you.

His rythym started out slow and gentle, giving him the opportunity to lean down to lovingly kiss your lips. But his speed progressively increased. You were already close again, the sensitivity between your legs still persisting, intensifying every sensation.

When his thrusts grew deeper and brutal, you had to hold yourself to the couch, your finger digging into the expensive fabric for support as you cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. His mouth was still on yours, tugging at your lower lip and swallowing your moans each time they uncontrollably dripped from your mouth.

His eyes were still on you, intense and focused, as if he was trying to memorize every single inch of you so that he could paint it later on his canvas. You reached another orgasm, mouth wide open as you gasped but no sound made it to his ears. You squeezed your eyes shut, trembling from the power of your climax, wondering if such extreme pleasure could kill you, because sometimes it sure felt like it.

“There it is, the way your mouth hangs open when you come for me, with your lips dark and swollen from how hard I kissed you… You are a masterpiece, my love.”

As soon as he said those words, he groaned and released himself deeply inside you, his body suddenly growing weak and numb.

With one more kiss to your lips, he pulled out of you with a satisfied sigh and a tender smile.

As if on cue, the cries of your newborn son suddenly pierced the brief moment of silence in the house.

“He probably misses us.” You said, and attempted to get up but Benedict stopped you, desperate.

“No, no, no! Don’t move, you’re perfect like this, that’s exactly what I want to immortalize on my canvas.” He pleaded, quickly putting his clothes back on. “I’ll go see him and make sure that he is okay. But please, stay exactly like this.”

He left the living room with his shirt roughly tucked in his pants and his hair disheveled, a sight making what you both had been up to pretty clear to all the employees he may meet on the way.

Eventually, the cries came to a stop, meaning that Benedict had probably reached your son and managed to soothe him back to sleep like only he knew how to. So you relaxed on the couch, still naked and ready to shamelessly pose for your adoring husband, already wondering if it would lead to another passionate moment of lovemaking later on.

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unconventional-lawnchair · 28 days

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A Second Chance pt.1 {Blurb}

Poly!Marauders+Lily x Fem!Reader - Zombie Apocalypse Au

New Perspective Noah Kahan

Masterlist

Summary: You find a group of survivors who could really use your help}

Cw; Guns, death, animal death, hunting, cussing, minor character death, insinuations of abuse (reader is worried about Lily alone with the boys), Zombie apocalypse typical violence, reader is crushing on Lily, infants)

Wc- 2091

In the heart of the wilderness, there was a serene and tranquil grove. Tall, majestic trees stood like sentinels; their branches reached towards the sky. Dappled sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting a gentle glow on the moss-covered ground below. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the refreshing scent of earth and pine, it was getting later.

There was suddenly a sharp and ear-piercing shot that rang out. You lifted your head from the scope of the ancient rifle, looking across the beautiful thicket, and eyes falling on the limp body of your prize.

You had been at it for hours, avoiding the doe’s, knowing they had young hidden deep within the grass, much like yourself now. You stood up, lifting the bandana over your nose and hurried down the hill you were perched on. Pulling out your carvers knife as you got to work on the old buck at your feet.

“I'm telling you, it was a gunshot.” You heard whispers from behind you, the sound of fresh grass making way to footsteps. Two of them.

You quickly packed your plastic lined pouch and turned around, training your gun on the approaching forms behind you.

“Fuck-”

“What did I tell you!?”

There were two men. Great. Men. This close to your hideout? You needed to make your next move count. You could let them go, and risk them coming back to find you. You could shoot them both now and waste your very limited ammo. You could escort them out of the area but that would waste a day of travel. She couldn't wait. Your eyes scanned over their figures. The first one you saw had long black hair, a thin frame, tattooed pale skin and seemed to be the more pissed of the two. Seemed to be the one who heard the gunshot too. The other one was definitely taller, he had thick brown hair and startling hazel eyes. He seemed to be more of a threat out of the two, with his broader build and definitely gave the impression he was in charge.

You turned your gun to aim it at the taller one. His breath hitched and they both stared at you in panicked fear. “Wait wait wait.” He quickly pleaded, hands up and taking a small step back.

“Don't move or I'm pulling the trigger.” You threatened and he winced.

The black haired boy moved to step in front of him, but you cocking your gun seemed to knock some sense into him.

“Please, please don't shoot.” He pleaded. “I have a son, he's only a few weeks old. We have two other men in the group who are bedridden and injured. My wife is still recovering. We can't risk it.”

His pleading made your heart stop. It was so familiar it made your body ache.

~~~

“Please, please don't shoot.” He pleaded with the men in front of him. The camp was ransacked and some of the tents were set ablaze.

You and Regulus had made your way out of the camp late at night. You were going out patrolling, unable to sleep, and as usual, Regulus didn't want you going alone.

On your way out Barty joined you. So of course, Evan wanted to tag along as well. You attempted to convince them that one able bodied person should stay behind. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had just brought a beautiful baby girl into the world, so Mr. Granger was hardly focused on watching the camp.

A few others were there to watch over as well, but it was a big camp, and they needed all the help they could get. Evan teased you for your worry, no one had even passed your location in days. He still, however, promised to stay close to camp with Barty to patrol. Leaving you and Regulus to walk along the outermost parts of the camp.

Regulus eventually headed back, you stayed out. You loved the idea that people were still growing their lives even in such a desperate situation. But God, that baby did not know how to shut up. She was precious, from a distance.

You regretted that night.

You regretted so much of it.

When you made your way back the smell of burning flesh hit your nose first. You had to hold back the bile in your throat. You had come to be familiar with the stench of rot, but not when it was set ablaze.

You ran to camp and heard the commotion. You were gone for no more than ten minutes, and the sight of the dead bodies of your friends around you would be permanently etched into your mind.

You couldn't focus on anything through the chaos, until you heard Mr.Granger pleading. He had his hands up, standing outside one of the only standing tents left. You snuck around, taking in the situation from outside of your clearly useless walls. He was cornered, four men around him while one of them held the arm of Mrs. Granger like a vice, taunting her husband.

You made eye contact with Mrs. Granger and hers widened. You slowly reached for your gun and her expression shifted to pure desperation. She kept glancing at the tent and your heart fell. Hermione was still in there.

You took a deep breath and cursed. Hurrying to sneak behind the tent and cut into it from the back. You gathered what you could, what little you were able to scavenge from towns for Hermione as well. You heard two gunshots, but you didn't want to think about it. Quickly covering Hermione’s mouth with your hoodie to keep her cries muffled.

You didn't look back, running as far away from the camp as possible. You came back the next morning and eventually managed to find your own supplies and one of the several cars they seemed to have left behind. Worrying they may come back for it, you packed up what you could and left in the dinghy vehicle.

That was only a month ago.

~~~

You couldn't do it. You couldn't pull the trigger. You slowly sighed and lowered your gun, much to the startled surprise of both boys. There was a loaded silence between you three before you bit your lip. Looking down at your bag you gestured to the venison on the ground. “You can have what’s left. I can only carry so much.”

“W-what?” The black haired boy muttered out and the brunette seemed to lighten up at your offer. Eyebrows raised and mouth slack.

“On one condition. I want to know where your camp is. And.. I want to meet the mother.” You gestured to the deer again, as if to entice them, and the brunette narrowed his eyes in confusion but the other seemed to catch on. Giving a firm nod and walking over to the buck. You flinched heavily to the side so as to not be too close to him.

“What's your name?” The taller boy asked and you snapped your attention to him. You creased your brow in suspicion but, what could they really do with just your name?

“{Y/N}.”

“{Y/N}? Nice to meet you. My name is James.” He introduced and offered his hand, You simply stared at him and he cleared his throat and tried to play off the obvious rejection. “A-and this is Sirius!”

Said boy, Sirius, finally managed to get the deer over his shoulder before gesturing in front of him for you. “I’d rather stay behind you.” You huffed and he gave a brief nod. Turning with a hmph as he steadied the kill on his shoulder.

~~~

You quickly learned, in your brief walk, just how much James seemed to like talking. You were starting to genuinely believe that he wasn't a threat, but more wondering how on god's green earth he survived this long with a trap like that.

Sirius, on the other hand, was quiet for the most part. He would ask you questions to gauge how comfortable you were and how much you were willing to share with them. Mostly nothing.

When you passed by a certain stick standing in the ground, James gestured ahead. You peaked past him and saw the camp.

It was decent, but exposed. A large tent you assumed housed all of them, with a table and a campfire, the set up even allowed for the most sight around them. It was certainly temporary. The thought comforted you, but the idea they were traveling with an infant made you nervous.

“This is all?” You asked in a not intentionally condescending tone.

Sirius brushed past you and walked into the center of the clearing, dropping the load and standing up with a stretch. The tent door opened and you fixed your grip on the rifle, James grabbing the barrel and lowering it, earning a glare from you. Out limped a rather tall boy. Tanned skin, scar ridden, messy sandy blonde hair, and a clearly mangled leg. You took a deep breath.

Okay, they housed the injured and kept them around. The leader of the group was rather charming but that could go both ways. You needed to see the girl.

As if he could read your thoughts, Sirius spoke up and drew Remus’s startled expression from you. “Remus, can you get Lily?”

“She's reading to Harry.” Who you assumed to be Remus muttered and glanced back at you. Sirius shook his head. “Just a moment.”

Remus eyed you for a second before he peaked back into the tent and muttered something. Eventually, a tall red head stepped out of the beige shelter and she looked at Sirius, clearly annoyed. “What? I just got Harry down.”

“We have a visiter. Wants to make sure you aren't being held here against your will.” Sirius cheeked and you gave a glare his way, he simply winked back. Much more playful in his own domain.

“What?” Lily muttered and looked up at you. Your eyes locked for a moment and her jaw rolled as she sized you up. You suddenly felt extremely self conscious. Then, the most dazzling smile appeared on her face. “You wanted to check on me? How old are you sweetness?”

Her tone gave you such a rush of comfort you didn't even think before you spoke. “N-nineteen,” You whispered and she placed a hand over her chest and cooed at you. “You're just a baby. Are you alone?”

“No, not… not really.”

Merlin, her voice was like a siren song. Your shoulders went limp and the gun lowered. James gave a knowing smirk and Sirius looked offended at your compliance with Lily’s questioning. How does she do that?

“Shouldn't you be heading back? Someone must be looking for you.” She fretted and you tried to steady your breath. Remus looked between you two and slowly settled against the base of a tree with a wince.

“N-not yet, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You mumbled before you looked at James. He was smirking at you. He was smirking at you like your friend would in elementary before declaring he knew who your crush was.

You snapped out of your trance and quickly took a few steps back. “Actually-”

Your remark was interrupted by a loud bout of thunder. You looked to the sky with the rest of the group and you heard a loud cry from inside the tent. You felt your stomach drop. You could care less about the boys, but you couldn't leave a week old child in the middle of a thunderstorm.

You watched as the tend opened again and a sickly, pale boy stepped out. He was taller than you with a bit of a belly, he seemed friendly to a fault, a small smile growing on his sleepy face. Lily walked over to him and picked up Harry with a thank you to Peter.

“We need to get to some serious shelter soon.” James huffed and you looked around at the worry on everyone’s faces. You finally let your morals win over your common sense.

“I have a place.” You mumbled and Lily looked at you, startled.

“Honey, you really shouldn’t offer up-”

“I know, I know. Just..” You looked at Harry and Lily slowly smiled. She looked at the rest of the group and nodded. Peter seemed startled as he just noticed your presence, James seemed surprised just like Sirius. Remus seemed in distress, rubbing his leg as the storm grew closer.

“We would love your help.”

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flowerandblood · 3 months

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The Fall from the Heavens (Epilogue)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: description of hard childbirth, fluffy sex, hate sex, smut, angst, kid catching his parents having sex, anxiety, depression, childhood feeling of rejection ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

We have reached the end of this journey: I hope this epilogue gives you a taste of what their family life was like. I had a lot of fun writing this from three perspectives and I think it's a great ending to this series. Thank you to everyone who was with me and supported me. You may cry that the main series is over, but there are still two modern AUs in which we will see Aemond and Rhaenys again!

Aemond & Rhaenys's Children Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond

It turned out that there was a role that terrified him more than being a ruler-regent alongside his wife and it was fatherhood. He was ashamed to admit it, but it was easier for him to understand the needs of the kingdom than his own son.

He was dominated above all by a sense of terror which made him freeze all over, not knowing what to do or how to behave. He first felt it when his niece suggested that he should take their newborn child into his arms.

"I don't know. You better hold him." He muttered, seeing in his mind all the possibilities of what he could do wrong and inadvertently hurt their son. His wife looked at him indulgently.

"Come here. Sit next to me." She said, encouraging him with a nod. He pressed his lips together, tense, and approached her slowly, sitting down beside her on the soft bedding. Viserys yawned loudly, twisting in his mother's arms, calm and content, his belly full of her milk.

He swallowed hard, horrified when she shifted towards him, wanting to hand him the infant in his hands. He immediately put his arms under him, afraid to drop him.

"Put his head here, on the bend of your arm. Just like that, support him with your hand on the other side. There you go." She said warmly, pleased at this sight. His heart stopped in his throat as her hands let go of his small body and his son remained in his embrace.

He was afraid that without his mother's familiar presence his son would begin to cry and become anxious, but he slept peacefully, snuggling into his leather tunic.

He was ashamed to feel the emotion and the burning tears under his eyelids looking at his small face, his tiny hands clenched into fists, thinking how great a burden was on him, though he did not yet know it.

On his son.

He swallowed hard when he felt his wife's hand on his back, her temple pressed against his cheek, looking at the scene.

"Isn't he beautiful?" She asked softly, and he was silent for a moment, feeling that he was struggling to find the right words to answer her.

"It's the most beautiful, innocent being I've ever seen in my life." He muttered and closed his eye in surrender, feeling a hot tear run down his cheek. She heard his heavy, uneven breath and leaned in, wanting to see his face.

"– oh, my love – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered tenderly, placing warm, wet, lingering kisses on his cheek. He snuggled his face into her neck, wanting as always to hide from his fear, insecurity and pain in her familiar vanilla-scented flesh.

From that moment on, holding Viserys no longer frightened him so much – what's more, he felt a sense of satisfaction when his son squirmed and squealed at the sight of him, happy, reaching out his small, chubby little hands to him, longing to be in his arms.

His father had never done that, but he had no intention of making his mistakes.

For this reason he took turns reading to him at bedtime with his wife. Sitting on his lap, Viserys gazed with big eyes at the richly illustrated legends of their ancestors, his little legs willowing in excitement every time dragons appeared on the pages of the book.

"Soon your dragon will hatch." He whispered in his ear, pointing his finger at a large vessel hanging over the hearth with a dragon egg inside, Daemon's gift to his grandson.

"You will fly in the skies. You will be king of the Seven Kingdoms. You will be fearless, fair, loved. I will be by your side." He hummed and kissed his plump, pink cheek.

His wife watched them with a smile, relaxing in a warm bath after a long, tiring day full of their duties.

The evenings, nights and mornings were just for them.

For their family.

She finally stood up from the water, throwing only a soft, cream-coloured robe over her body, tying it around her waist, reaching out her hands for their son, who had just fallen asleep in his arms.

"Don't wake him." He mumbled out in pain, purposely not moving from his seat unwilling to interrupt his slumber, handing Viserys to her. She laughed quietly under her breath, walking with their child towards the bed, sitting down on the sheets.

"I won't. Our little boy will eat his meal in his sleep." She hummed, slipping the sleeve of her robe off her shoulder, revealing her sweet, plump breast, all swollen with milk.

He swallowed hard, watching enthralled as his son, still asleep, in a natural reflex clamped his lips around her nipple and began to suckle with a purr of satisfaction.

He was ashamed of how he himself loved tasting her now, how warm and sweet her milk was melting on his tongue, how hard he was getting at the very thought that as soon as she laid their son down in the cradle, he would sink deep between her thighs as he did every night, cuddled into her fragrant body, listening to her sweet moans, only to fill her again with his seed.

The news that his wife was expecting his child again filled them with joy, and the birth of their third son reassured the entire kingdom – Viserys, Aegon and Daeron had secured the line of succession.

However, this time his niece endured the hardships of childbirth worse than before.

"Aemond!" He heard her desperate cry from behind the door of her chamber and, despite his brother's attempts to stop him, he walked inside.

He was horrified to see her blood all around her, her face at once pale and red from tears of exertion, her swollen lips parted in loud, pitiful moans.

"– uncle – the baby won't come out – oh gods, oh gods, oh gods –" She muttered, tilting her head back in a sudden panic attack, her mother began to comfort her quickly, squeezing her hand in her own.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he walked over to her, sitting down next to her on the bed, grasping her hand in his.

"– I'm here – I'm so sorry, my sweetest – I'm so sorry –" He mumbled out in a trembling voice, cradling her in his arms, feeling her go breathless all over, a squeal escaping her lips and a quiver of discomfort as another contraction shook her body.

"– fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, gods, please! –" She sobbed, and all he could do was cuddle his face into her hair, his heart pouding like a mad in horror.

He wasn't sure he'd experienced anything more terrifying, more heartbreaking in his entire life.

"– just a little more – I can see the head – there it is, push, Princess, push now –" She commanded, and by some effort incomprehensible to him, after several attempts, his niece forced his son out into the world, who wept loudly in Alys Rivers' arms.

"– he has your hair, Princess –" She whispered, and his wife breathed a sigh of relief, wailing loudly from the exhaustion, horror and pain her whole body went through.

Alicent and Rhaenyra promised to look after their children so that their mother would have a few days to recover – Viserys and Aegon were only allowed to see her for a moment, once the bedding had been changed and he had helped her dress in a clean, snow-white nightgown.

"– I envy him – your dark hair is more to my liking –" Aegon muttered, glancing over Alicent's shoulder at the infant she held in her arms.

"– enough – your mother needs to rest –" He said shakily, unable to pull himself together after what had happened, seeing with what difficulty his niece was smiling at their sons, trying to pretend that all was well.

He knew it wasn't.

She burst out crying in his arms as soon as they were alone, panting and whooping with her tears, his hands stroking her back and hair tenderly, trying to soothe her.

"– I'm so sorry – I know, my love – shhh – I'm here –" He whispered, kissing the top of her head again and again. His niece swallowed loudly, trying to catch her breath.

"– forgive me – forgive me for making you watch this –" She muttered helplessly, as if she was ashamed that she had forced him to look at something that was meant only for the eyes of women.

"– no – I would not forgive myself if you had to go through this alone – my sweet, brave wife – now just rest –" He whispered. She breathed a loud sigh of relief and snuggled into him, calming down slowly, exhausted after the hardships of childbirth and the emotions she had experienced.

He carried her in his arms because she couldn't get up or sit up, helped her bathe, change and eat, wanting her to know that her suffering and sacrifice for him and their family was not indifferent to him. Knowing that she needed rest, for days he would fall asleep by her side stroking her head, shoulders and back, letting her sink into the safe embrace of his arms.

However, he couldn't help what he felt as he looked at her, that he desired her and her body, that he wanted to touch her.

That he wanted to make love to her.

At some point, he realised that the desire she aroused in him was different than it had been at first: from a fiery, burning feeling of wanting to taste the forbidden fruit again and again, his needs had changed over the years and he knew that no other woman could satisfy them.

It was not because he did not find other women beautiful or worthy of desire, but because only her body brought him solace, only her hands touched him in a way that made him hot, only her scent sent shivers down his spine, only her bright eyes shone with a wonderful warmth at the sight of him.

Her insides were always ready to receive him, silky, moist and hot, giving him a sense of security, her naked body soft and inviting – his manhood, already without his mind's involvement, reacted with a joyful, excited pulsing and twitching in his breeches at the sight of her, equating her with the pleasure he experienced every time.

He concluded that, just as men became addicted to wine or cards, he became addicted to his wife's closeness.

Therefore, he couldn't explain to his painfully swollen erection why suddenly, despite his wife's constant presence next to him, he couldn't touch her and had to be patient: he craved her constantly and died lying next to her, unable to sleep from the tension.

One night his niece, feeling the way his swollen length was pushing, tucked into his breeches, against her stomach, took pity on him, gripping his fat, warm manhood in her hand. He moaned like a helpless little boy, rolling his hips to the rhythm of her strokes, her fingers giving him an encouraging, assured squeezes at the base making his heart begin to pound like mad.

"– please –" He muttered, his hand sinking into her smooth hair, his lips, puffy with desire, found hers in a hot, wet, sticky kiss full of their teeth and tongues.

His wife knew his manhood well – she teased the head of it, leaking with his desire, with her thumb, making it pulsate all over and tremble in her embrace, her tongue gently licking his, making him fall apart in front of her after a moment, desperate. He groaned with a loud sigh of pleasure, closing his eye in relief when he felt his hot seed spurt out onto her nightgown.

"– fuck –" He gasped, feeling a complete and wonderful emptiness in his head, her small body snuggled into his.

He heard her smile.

"Try to sleep now, husband."

That night, indeed, he slept a stony sleep like a small child.

Over the following months, they both slowly pushed the boundary: his niece again let his fingers sink tentatively into her fleshy, velvety folds, his fingers teased her nipples when, after his tender treatments, she finally reached fulfilment in his arms, moaning his name loudly.

"– put it inside me, uncle – please –" She mumbled helplessly one night, rocking her hips so that again and again her buttocks rubbed against his yearningly swollen manhood.

"– I can't, my sweetest – not yet –" He muttered – her small hand clenched on his arm which embraced her, her warm womanhood all pulsing, leaking with her sticky wetness under his fingers.

"– please – please, husband, I can't take it anymore –" She cried out in despair – he grasped her cheeks in his hand and twisted her face, only then seeing that tears were running from her eyes.

"– are you sure? –" He muttered in a trembling voice, feeling his whole manhood tremble and pulsate with desire, dreaming only of sinking into her warm walls again. His niece nodded her head quickly, making him grin involuntarily.

"– this little cunt misses me so much? –" He murmured affectionately and she nodded again, her pink, puffy lips parted in a sigh as the tips of his two fingers began to stretch her swollen, wet slit.

"– come here –" He murmured and she cried out loudly as he released his swollen erection from his breeches in a sure, aggressive motion, dreaming of feeling her this way again for weeks, immediately directing the head of his cock dripping from his moisture onto her tight, throbbing opening.

The feeling of being deep inside her again was an almost spiritual sensation – they both sighed and groaned as if relieved that they could be one body, one person again.

"– that's it – there you go –" He gasped, rolling his hips, sliding slowly deep into her only to slide out of her almost fully a moment later, again and again opening her swollen entrance on his thick, pulsing erection with the quiet clicks of her wetness.

"– good gods – I didn't fill you for so fucking long – my poor wife left without my seed –" He muttered with difficulty, his eyes closed while he longed to focus only on this, on her warm, soft, moist walls squeezing him greedily where it was so safe, so good, thrusting into her more and more confidently, feeling the familiar tightness in his stones proving that he was surprisingly close to reach his peak.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled, and nothing more than their sighs, moans and cries left their throats until they came together, panting heavily, all soaking wet and hot from the exertion.

His arms embraced her tightly, his lips placed quick, hot kisses on her shoulders as his chest clung to her back, their legs entwined together in disarray.

"– gods, I missed you –"

Viserys

Viserys knew no other married couple who behaved as his parents did in the solitude of their chambers. He had witnessed many times conversations between his mother and his father, the fearless, menacing One-Eyed Prince, rider of the mightiest dragon walking on the world.

He could hear the man he feared and admired at the same time listening silently to his wife's words, her comments on his decisions and their validity.

His mother had never challenged him in public during the meetings of the Small Council, but she did so often when they were already left alone, and his father, to his surprise, did not explode with anger, as was his custom, but listened to her with calmness and respect.

His father allowed himself to be touched only by his wife – only she could take his hand, stroke his cheek, sit on his lap when they thought no one could see.

He had witnessed them embrace, his father's lips pressed against her ear as he stood behind her back, his hands met with hers on her lower abdomen, stroking her skin hidden beneath her night robe, his words meant only for her.

Only once had he seen his father terrified: when his mother, standing by his side in the throne room as they listened to the lords' speeches, suddenly fainted, unaware that she was already carrying his sister in her womb at the time.

He remembered that the day had been exceptionally hot, and his mother had been feeling ill since the morning: in accordance with the agreement, neither she nor her husband could sit on the Iron Throne, so they stood before it during a gathering of the whole court.

His father, usually cool and composed in his actions, rushed towards her to catch her, and then began shouting at the guards to lead the lords out of the room and bring in the maester immediately.

Viserys sat by her bed with his younger brother, Aegon, holding her hand in his, listening in silence to the exchange between his father, the maester and his grandfather.

"The Queen Regent should not strain herself. She is expecting your child, Your Grace."

"So soon?" Mumbled his father, as if surprised – his youngest brother, Daeron, had been born only five months earlier.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Are you surprised? Don't you know how children are brought into this world?" Daemon hissed.

Viserys and Aegon pressed their lips together, looking in horror at their father, who was staring at their grandfather wide-eyed, breathing heavily, furious.

He had never heard anyone speak to him this way before.

His father looked away as if he felt ashamed, bitter apparently at having contributed to his wife's suffering.

His mother awoke after a few hours, but she was weak and the maester ordered that she should lie in bed for a few days and gain strength.

His father gave up his daily routine to simply sit by her side, sinking into reading great volumes about the history of Essos.

He wanted to make his mother smile and lift her spirits, however, he had no idea how he could do this and was afraid to ask his father.

He decided to seek a woman's advice.

"If your mother was tired and sad, what would you give her?" He asked Alyssa, sitting with her on the grass under one of the trees. His cousin pressed her lips together, swinging her legs, lying on her stomach.

"Field flowers. Or cakes. No, some beautiful letter. Or you could recite her a poem!" She began to quickly throw out ideas, excited, her blue eyes bright and beautiful, her long white eyelashes and hair pinned up in a braid glistening in the sun.

"I'd rather it be that one thing." He muttered, not wanting to make a jester of himself in front of his father.

"Field flowers." Alyssa decided.

"How will I know which ones are the right ones?" He asked reluctantly, as a man never delving into these, in his mind, girly, tendentious matters.

He breathed a sigh of relief when his cousin suggested they go to the gardens and pick them together.

Already standing outside the door of his parents' chamber, he began to feel doubts about whether what he wanted to do was a good idea.

What if his father will think that he is weak?

That he is behaving like a little girl?

If he looks at him with disapproval and embarrassment?

"My Prince?" He heard a voice behind him and saw a smiling woman, one of his mother's servants, who had apparently brought her warm soup.

He could no longer escape or retreat, so he went inside with her.

His father rose from his seat, his face expressing cold frustration.

"Why did it take so long?" He asked, the woman lowered her head.

"Forgive me, Your Grace."

"What is it?" He turned his words to him, looking at what he held in his hands. He swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks turn red with shame.

"Flowers for my mother. I wanted to make her smile." He muttered. His father blinked, silent for a moment.

"Good. Go to her. But don't torment her for too long. She needs to rest." His father said, and he nodded quickly, feeling the hard pounding of his heart, all hot with terror.

His mother was delighted with his bouquet composed of carnations, daisies, poppies and dandelions, her warm smile and look full of tenderness made him immediately calm down.

"Thank you, sweet boy." She whispered, stroking his cheek with her soft, familiar hand. She wanted to embrace him, but he moved away involuntarily, because he didn't want her to do this in front of his father.

Nine months later, his first little sister, Visenya, was born.

He remembered only a few years of his life during which his mother had not been with child.

He did not understand why, when he already had four siblings – two brothers and two sisters – there was still a need for more to be born.

Aegon, his brother, once told him that it was because of what married couples did at night – the septon explained to him that offspring resulted from a marital, physical union.

When he was sure he was alone in the library, he read in shame a small volume devoted to the begetting of descendants. He felt disgust and discomfort when he read about a man inserting part of his body between the woman's thighs, filling her with his seed.

It sounded foreign and unpleasant, and he wondered more and more whether his mother was actually in pain and needed to experience a bit of rest.

He dared to raise the issue one day during their supper together, which was a great mistake on his part.

"Aren't you tired, Mother?" He asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She and his father looked at him puzzled, his father having just handed her a tray of goose pate.

"What do you mean, my love?" She asked softly, as always looking at him with a tenderness and attention that made him feel safe.

He swallowed hard, looking reproachfully at his father, who was just taking a deep sip of wine, watching him vigilantly, his healthy eye shining uneasily in the firelight.

His father was mysterious, distant, beyond comprehension.

Cold.

Frightening.

"I struggle to recall a time during which you did not carry a child inside you. After all, your inheritance is secured, shouldn't you be able to rest at last?" He asked, bewildering his mother. His father pressed his lips into a thin line, frustrated by his remark, setting his cup down on the table with a loud clink of steel.

"Don't ever address me or your mother this way again. Apologise to her immediately for your inappropriate words." His father said slowly and coolly in a manner from which an unpleasant shiver ran down his spine, his eye wide open.

"Aemond." His mother turned to him, stroking anxiously her slightly rounded abdomen.

His father looked at her and licked his lower lip, silent – he knew that they communicated now, as they were sometimes in the habit of doing, by sight alone, without using words.

"Perhaps it would be appropriate for you to explain to your first-born son why I carry your child inside me again?" She asked with emphasis, her husband's lips curved in displeasure.

His father looked at him with a gaze from which he lowered his head, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart – he heard him lift the cup to his lips and take a deep sip of wine from it.

"There is no need."

Although when he was a little infant he had been in his father's arms as often as he had been in his mother's, the more he matured the more distant his father's figure seemed to become, inaccessible as a stone fortress.

They spent time together during sparring in the courtyard, where he trained him in the wielding of the sword, and while studying the language of Old Valyria, bent over old tomes.

His father was a strict and demanding teacher – although he never humiliated him or mocked him, he could see when his father was frustrated and he suffered deeply because of it.

He knew that there was only a three years left until he would be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms and felt that he did not deserve it. It seemed to him that his father, looking at him, thought the same thing.

Compared to him, he was weak.

How could he surpass the greatest warrior in the world, able to speak as much about war as history or philosophy, knowing the language of their ancestors, riding the mighty Vhagar?

"Father does not love me." He muttered once, when they were alone in his chamber and his mother was helping him dress before they all set off for the Great Sept. She shook her head, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

"Your father loves you, Viserys. He cares about everything about you, but he can't show it." She said, looking at him in pain.

"He can show it to you, Mother." He replied reproachfully, not understanding why he did not have as much understanding and patience for him as he did for her.

She was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the stone floor beneath his feet.

"I am his wife. We are connected by a different bond, the kind that a man and a woman share." She explained, and he pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"No. He just loves you more than any of us." He replied dryly, pulling himself out of her embrace and walked out of the chamber, fastening the buckles of his tunic himself.

He was now thirteen years old, he was already a man and his mother, no matter how much he loved her, no longer had to help him dress as if he were a small child.

One evening, as he was about to inform his parents of his decision as to the guest list for the celebration of his Name Day, he heard from behind the door of their quarters sounds that disturbed him.

It seemed to him that his mother was moaning in pain.

When he opened them quietly and peeked inside, he saw his father's body from the side, pressing his mother to the bed, his hips rocking inside her in quick, deep thrusts with loud clicks of something wet and sticky, his hand holding her cheeks between his fingers in an iron grip as he looked down at her.

Although he always wore it in their presence, now he didn't have his eye patch on his face.

"– do you like the way he looks at you? – hm? – do you think I don't see him following you with his gaze? – dreaming that it is his child that you are carrying inside you? –" He hissed maliciously, pounding into her aggressively, making his mother squirm beneath him, driving her short nails into his shoulders as if trying to defend herself.

"– n-no – no, uncle –" She mumbled, panting loudly, her breath heavy and ragged, droplets of sweat on her skin.

Why was he hurting her?

Should he scream, come inside, tell him to stop?

"– no? – maybe I should gouge his eyes out? – if he doesn't know he's a fool, that he has no fucking right to desire you –" He growled, pressing his forehead against hers, panting and moaning along with her as the bed began to creak loudly under them with each of his thrusts, his mother tilting her head back and closing her eyes, an expression on her face that he didn't understand.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She cried out, pressing her husband's body against hers, crossing her legs over his bare back as if she didn't want to let him go, and after a moment they both made loud, almost animal-like sounds as if relieved, and his father's body fell on top of her without strength.

He swallowed hard, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart as he saw his father's hand brush his mother's cheek, his lips placing tender, lazy, loud kisses on her face as if she were a small child, whispering something to her.

His healthy eye opened suddenly, his pupil narrowed in shock when he saw him standing in the threshold of their chamber.

He ran away quickly, terrified, thinking his father would kill him with his own hands.

He trembled as he ran back into his chamber, sitting down on the bed, feeling that he was quivering with fear.

That his father would surely deprive him of his throne and banish him for what he had done, that he dared to look at their naked bodies like some disgusting sinner.

He shuddered and jumped up in his seat when, a moment later, the door opened and indeed his father stood in it, already wearing a shirt and breeches, his sapphire glowed in the warm firelight.

He curled into himself, prepared for his blow or scream, but his father just stood there looking at him, breathing heavily.

He sighed loudly and closed the door behind him, then walked slowly towards him, surprising him by sitting down next to him. For a moment he sat bent over, leaning on his elbows with his face hidden between his hands.

He finally looked at him and, to his surprise, he did not see rage in his gaze.

"Viserys. These are intimate moments meant only for my and your mother's eyes. What came to your mind to do this?" He said coolly but calmly.

He swallowed hard, red with shame, feeling that he was shaking, trying not to cry like a little girl out of fear.

"I thought… I thought you were hurting my mother. That's what it sounded like. Like she was in pain." He muttered.

His father pressed his lips together and licked his lower lip, then nodded.

"I see. It's good that you care about your mother's safety and want to protect her. However, know that I would never hurt her." He finally replied.

"Then why did she suffer?" He asked further trying to understand what he had actually seen.

His father sighed, picking at the cuticles around his fingernails as he always did when he felt discomfort.

"She didn't suffer. When we are very close, we experience pleasure so strong that it borders on pain."

"Is that why mother is expecting a baby again?" He asked quietly, and his father swallowed hard, tense.

"Yes."

"Is what you are doing... a sin?" He asked in a trembling voice, his father throwing him a quick, surprised look.

"No. Not when it takes place between husband and wife. It's… you cannot be closer to another human being than during this act. Me and your mother want to be as close as possible and we derive pleasure from it."

They both remained in an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

He felt that this was his chance, an opportunity to ask his father about all the things he had been unable to comprehend and had never had the courage to bring up in his presence.

"Why do you call my mother Rhaenys? After all, that is not her real name, is it?" He asked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

His father swallowed hard, staring dully ahead, thoughtful.

"For me, it is."

"Don't you like her real name?" He continued, trying hard to get anything out of him.

"She always said she wanted to be like Rhaenys, the younger sister and also one of Aegon the Conqueror's two wives. She called herself that to frustrate me, because I always said I would rather one day have a woman like Visenya as my betrothed. She used to call herself that in the letters she sent to me."

"Letters? My mother sent you letters?" He asked, surprised, hearing about it for the first time.

His father fell silent for a long moment.

"Yes. More than fifty over eight years. I never wrote her back to any of them."

He blinked, looking at him in disbelief, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"Why? Didn't you love her back then?"

There was a kind of sadness, weariness and regret on his father's face that he saw for the first time in his life.

"Quite the opposite."

"Then why? She must have been so sad."

"She was."

He lowered his gaze, thinking with despondency that his father's mind was indeed beyond comprehension.

"When she appeared after eight years in the Red Keep, I asked her if she still wanted to marry me. And she, despite everything, still wanted to. Your mother always showed me more understanding than I deserved." He stated finally.

He nodded at his words.

"How did you know for certain that she would become your wife?" He asked uncertainly, playing with his fingers in a reflex he inherited from him. His father lowered his head, thoughtful.

"Your grandfather the King betrothed us when we were still small children." He replied.

"When you betroth me, will I also be that close to my wife?" He continued, and his father nodded.

"Yes. You will beget your offspring together and prolong your lineage." His father said.

"Will I also feel pleasure from her closeness as you feel it with my mother?" He asked uncertainly. His father pressed his lips together and scratched his chin, tense.

"I don't know."

His answer sent a cold shiver down his spine.

"I want to have a wife like you, Father. I want to love her." He whispered, thinking about Alyssa, about what he felt when he heard her light laughter, when saw her smile full of warmth and sympathy.

She was full of understanding and joy, always eager to listen to him and his, in his mind very adult, problems and musings.

It seemed to him that his father's breath had become louder, but he didn't dare look at him.

"I can't promise you that."

He squeezed his eyes shut at his words, unable to stand it any longer, warm, burning tears running down his face. He felt like a little child, but there was nothing he could do about it, because he was suffering.

"How am I going to be a King without a Queen to worship and love? How will I make you proud if I feel lonely and weak next to her? I want to be able to love someone just like you. I don't want to be alone all my life like I am now."

"You are not alone."

"I am alone. For you, I am only the effect of your pleasure and the relief of the Kingdom. You love only my mother. You see only her. You trust only her. You look only at her."

"That is not true. I watch over you even though you don't realise it. I am trying to make you strong so that the crown, when it is finally placed on your head, will not crush you. You are my first-born son. We have awaited your birth like a miracle." His father said. He shuddered when he felt his hand on his head, and then his strong arm drew him close, letting him cry into his chest.

He stroked his hair and his back the way his mother always did, feeling him place his forehead on the top of his head.

"I love you, but I cannot be weak in front of the court. You will understand me when you become king and father yourself." He said, and he nodded, snuggling into him tighter, his strong arms giving him the feeling that he was safe, that nothing threatened him.

"– my son –" He said in a way from which he felt warmth in his heart, pride and acceptance, the closeness of a man who in his eyes was closer to gods than men.

"I will not fail you, Father."

Rhaenys

Between looking after her first-born son and bearing her husband another child, she had to focus on helping him create the Small Council from scratch. According to her mother's will, they were both to be equal rulers as regents, and her uncle did not give the impression of being humiliated by this fact.

On the contrary, he relied on her advice and opinion more than she expected.

"Daemon cannot become the Hand of The King. He is too unpredictable. We need someone who is calm and composed. Putting your mother or my brother in that position could lead to further divisions, which we don't want. The person who takes over this role should be as neutral as possible." He said, pacing around the room, immersed in his thoughts. She sighed heavily, stroking her slightly rounded belly, inside of which her second son, Aegon, was growing slowly.

He knew he was made for long disputes about the role and amount of taxes, armies, harvests and all the needs of the kingdom, analysing it for hours on end, however diplomacy was not his domain and in this aspect he left a wide berth to her.

"The Queen Who Never Was. She will take neither side. Let her husband remain the Master of Ships. Let Daemon be, as he was in your father's reign, the Master of Laws – a sign of our respect for tradition, a tribute to King Viserys, who betrothed us. Let Borros Baratheon have his place according to your agreement so that he does not undermine our marriage. He is a stern and honourable man, so let him take charge of our treasury and become the Master of Coin. Let my mother and your brother be honorary members of the Small Council, without function, of equal position."

She said, spreading out comfortably in her chair. Her husband hummed under his breath and nodded, as if he recognised that, indeed, what she was saying was logical. He stopped in half a step, looking blankly at her abdomen.

"Pillows." He muttered more to himself than to her, as if he had realised something.

She raised herself up on her elbows and blinked as he took some from their bed and walked over to her, sliding them under her back for her comfort. She smiled involuntarily at his subconscious concern.

"I am grateful to you, husband."

"My mother insists that Criston Cole remain a member of the Kingsguard, but only as her sworn protector. I have decided that Ser Harrold Westerling should be reappointed Lord Commander in his place." He said, running his fingers over her lower abdomen, swollen from his legacy.

She nodded her head at his words.

"Yes. Ser Harrold is a man of honour."

They looked at each other for a moment, somehow surprised at the ease with which they had come to discuss this.

The prospect of building the Kingdom anew and the perspective of argument and tension frightened them, they were, however, closer to each other than ever.

With the birth of her third son, Daeron, the entire Red Keep breathed a sigh of relief, resolving the last remaining tensions between the Black and Green factions.

Her son refused to leave her womb for a long time, tormenting her for hours, but finally, with the help of Alys, who had come from Dragonstone especially to accompany her through this ordeal, her dark-haired son, came into the world.

The entire court rejoiced in the thought that their three sons secured the line of succession.

It seemed to her that the Red Keep was now divided into three parts: in one, the most representative, intended for the King and Queen, she resided with her husband and their three sons; in the second lived Daemon, her mother, their sons and Joffrey; in the third resided Alicent, Aegon, Helaena and their children.

The first meeting between Alicent and Rhaenyra after the pact was established in the Great Sept was full of tears. They locked themselves alone in one of the chambers to speak to each other about everything that had happened over the years.

The fact that Aegon had condemned his grandfather to death meant that both Daemon and Rhaenyra endured the presence of his family with understanding, however they each ate their suppers separately.

They, as part of the conflict to bring peace, also ate alone, accompanied by their little sons.

Viserys was a sweet and curious child – as soon as he began to speak, he immediately began to demand that his favourite books with large, colourful illustrations depicting great dragons and kings be constantly read to him.

Aegon, however, was a stubborn and expressive: he voiced his opinions and displeasure loudly, knowing, however, where the limit of her and his father's patience lay.

Daeron, on the other hand, was a smiling and joyful infant, laughing loudly whenever he saw the faces of his brothers above the cradle tickling his belly with their fingers.

"He makes such funny sounds out of himself. Like a little puppy." Aegon said.

Their life was happy and peaceful, and she felt that she could finally breathe and have a little rest from the hardships of carrying a child.

And then, a few months after that very difficult delivery, she fainted in the throne room, losing control of her body, falling numbly to the ground.

When she awoke, she immediately smelled his familiar scent, his broad hand stroking her head.

She lifted her eyelids and saw that he lay beside her without his eye patch, his hair loose, only his shirt and breeches on his body. He was lying next to her on his side, his other hand holding a book lying on the bed between them, absorbed in his reading.

He shuddered and looked up at her as she touched his chest.

"– Rhaenys –" He whispered, closing the book, placing a warm, lingering kiss on her forehead.

"– how are you feeling? – you fainted –"

"I know. I think it's the weather. It's been so hot today, my head has been spinning since this morning." She whispered, smiling warmly at him, wanting to comfort him with the thought that it was nothing too severe.

The look on his face and the way he swallowed loudly made her feel uneasy.

"That's not what made you feel this way, my love. It's…" He began, but fell silent, pressing his lips together. She realised after a moment what he meant, a shiver of fear and discomfort ran along her spine.

"So soon?" She mumbled, her eyebrows arching in disbelief. Her husband lowered his gaze, heartbroken.

"Yes. Forgive me." He muttered. She clamped her lips together as he covered his face with his hand and drew in air loudly, as if trying not to cry. "I knew you endured it badly this time. I knew it, but I didn't think it would happen so soon."

"I know. I know." She said, pulling his head towards her, allowing him, as he always did when he was scared and tired, to snuggle his face between her breasts and take solace in the embrace of her arms.

She could hear his loud, broken breath, could hear him sniff with his nose, his broad hands clenched on the material of her nightgown at her back, seeking comfort.

"– Rhaenys –"

Although by the next day her sadness and fear had vanished, replaced by joyful anticipation of what their next child would be like, her husband still remained withdrawn and thoughtful, clearly feeling remorseful towards himself.

His openness in her presence resulting from their bond and understanding remained only in the sphere of their marriage: in her husband's eyes, she was a person whose behaviour and needs he understood perfectly, with whom he knew how to speak, around whom putting his thoughts into words came easily.

Having witnessed daily his directness and lightness in conversation at her side, the change that occurred in him was all the more striking when anyone else joined their company: his mother, his brother, some lord or even their own son.

Her uncle was deeply affected by what a heavy burden and responsibility Viserys had to carry on his shoulders. He saw himself in him: quiet and withdrawn, filled, however, with her empathy and sensibility, making him more thoughtful and sensitive to someone else's hurt.

Her husband feared that the crown and what it carried with it would crush him: he did not know how to strengthen him, make him a man without breaking his spirit.

He feared nothing more than that he would become like his father: insensitive, blind to his real needs, to his cries for help that his son could not articulate.

How similar they were didn't help them communicate: her uncle cut his discomfort with harsh, short sentences, while Viserys shut himself away, terrified of his coldness.

"He is afraid of me. I can see it in his eyes." He told her one day, undoing the buckles of his tunic, wanting to lie beside her in their bed. She looked at him with worry, stroking her rounded abdomen and swallowed quietly, lowering her gaze.

Father does not love me.

"I fear that he sees himself in your eyes as a disappointment. He cannot understand the source of your harshness and distance, which I know is due to nothing other than your fatherly concern. Nevertheless, he needs to hear a few warm words from you for once in his life." She said pleadingly, looking at him as he lay down beside her, sighing heavily. He shrugged his shoulders, pulling the eye patch off his head, throwing it carelessly somewhere on the floor, frustrated.

"What should I tell him? That I'm proud of him? That he will always be my son? He shouldn't be king if he's such a fool as not to understand that without my affectionate words." He said dryly, a clear discomfort and pain in his words, his jaw clenched in a rage whose reason she did not understand.

She stared at him dully for a moment, stunned.

"Can you hear yourself, uncle?" She asked at last, and he looked at her with a sharp, warning look that told her to be careful of her next words.

"He craves your appreciation like a thirsty person craves water. But not only that. You are his father, and he does not know you, does not comprehend your person, your behaviour."

"Good. Does he need to understand everything? It's for his own sake."

"In your mind it's easy because you know what drives you. From his perspective, you are a cold, raw stone. He told me today that you don't love him. That you don't love any of your children. That you love only me. You don't even know how much those words hurt me and I know they hurt you too, but gods, he is your firstborn son. Have an honest conversation with him. Do you think he will ever come to you for advice or support when he feels weak? He will be ashamed, he will fear your wrath and he will drown in his own despair." She said in pain, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

Her husband looked at her with clenched lips and she noticed in disbelief that his gaze was exactly the same as hers.

He wanted to cry because of what he had heard.

She pressed her forehead to his cheek, placing her hand on the place beneath where his heart was beating, and he stroked her arm with his fingers, swallowing hard.

"What he said tonight, during supper. When he suggested that you should rest. He hurt me with those words. I felt like my own son was rebuking me. As if I were a bad husband and father." He whispered in shame – she shook her head, placing a warm, moist kiss on his cheek.

She felt him twist his face, sinking his nose into her hair, his hand hugging her waist and drawing her closer to his body in a natural need for closeness.

"He doesn't understand it. He only sees my tiredness during the hot days, the pain in my back, hears my screams when I bring his siblings into the world. He doesn't know what happens when we're here, alone, or the reason for it. Just as we didn't know it when you told me you wished to have seven children, just as there are seven gods."

Her husband accepted her words in his heart, and she hoped that with this, he and their son would finally speak honestly with each other.

Apart from that, there was one more thing that was occupying her mind – his Name Day.

Her husband did not like to celebrate this day because of unpleasant memories from the past and she wanted to change that at last. She knew that he despised pompous, grand feasts and dances, so she had no intention of giving him a surprise that would make him unhappy.

She did, however, want to give him something completely different.

A written and lavishly illustrated book on the history of Aegon the Conqueror and his two wives in one gigantic volume, bound in red dyed leather decorated with gold, made especially at her request.

She wanted to give him something that would delight and move him at the same time, ordering the scribe to put a quote on the first page from the philosopher and poet, Areon, whose book she had borrowed from him that day when she kissed him for the first time.

Turn behind me, companion

see if I am at your side

The darkness frightens me

but you are like a torch

with your light I will not die

In order for the surprise to remain a surprise, the request could not pass directly through her hands, hence she asked one of the guards for help, which, however, proved to be a big mistake on her part.

She thought at first that the man's open and eager approach was due to his friendly, warm nature. He agreed to help her and reported to her what stage the work was at, assuring her that the book would be done on time.

The first worrying signs began to reach her consciousness when she noticed that Ser Brandon was looking at her while he was guarding the chamber during the Small Council meetings in a way that made her uncomfortable.

She feared that he had perceived her proposal in an ambiguous manner thinking that it was merely an excuse to get close to him.

To her horror, his surreptitious, shameless glances were noticed by her husband.

"– are you fucking him? –" Her uncle asked as soon as they crossed the threshold of their chamber, grasping her cheeks in his fingers warningly, his eye wide in rage, making cold sweat run down her spine.

"– n-no – never – I –" She mumbled, feeling that her heart was pounding like mad – she moaned, surprised, as his swollen, wet lips pressed against hers in a hot, aggressive kiss.

"– I'll kill you if you lie –" Her growled into her mouth, his slick, moist tongue forcing its way again and again down her throat with quick, impatient, furious clicks as he made her retreat towards their bed with every step.

"– I swear, husband –" She exhaled wearily and squealed as he pushed her onto the bed, making her fall onto her back. He stared at her as if completely mad, breathing heavily, undoing the buckles of his tunic with aggressive swipes of his hand.

"– undress –" He hissed furiously, throwing the material of his garment to the floor, pulling his shirt off his chest, ripping his eye patch from his face a moment later. She nodded her head quickly, feeling her heart in her throat as he climbed onto the bed, placing his knees on either side of her body.

Whenever he was terrified he spoke in this dramatic way, as if he wanted to show her that her betrayal would be the end of his and her life.

She couldn't help how much it aroused her, his desperation and how much he needed her, his feigned aggression only for her to soothe him, for her body to reassure him that he was wrong.

She tried to untie the bonds of her gown as quickly as she could, however, it was not easy – her husband paid no attention to the delicate knots at her sleeves and literally ripped the fabric off her in a gesture that was more animal than human.

"– uncle –" She whimpered pleadingly as his hot, swollen lips pressed into hers again with his loud groan of pleasure and rage, her hand sliding lower to the material of his breeches, finding his hard, throbbing erection beneath them at last.

"– fuck – spread your thighs wide – that's it –" He breathed out, and she obeyed his command without a word, watching with excitement as the black leather material slid down his legs, leaving him wonderfully naked, just like her.

She cried out loudly, clasping her hands over his bare buttocks and back as he immediately stretched her swollen opening on the fat head of his erection, a low, helpless sigh escaping from their throats.

"– A-Aemond – mghmm –" She cried out, trying hard to fit in what he was forcing her to take, his manhood pulsing all over deep inside her, betraying how close he was to fulfilment, how aroused he was by what had just happened between them.

She, at his mercy.

She began to moan when he immediately imposed a fast, sharp, aggressive pace on her, his hips rolling to the rhythm of her body, thrusting again and again deep between her warm, leaking folds, despite the initial difficulty welcoming him with ease.

They both lost their temper, falling into a complete frenzy, their naked, sticky bodies slamming against each other with loud splats of their shared moisture.

"– do you like the way he looks at you? – hm? – do you think I don't see him following you with his gaze? – dreaming that it is his child that you are carrying inside you? –" He hissed through clenched teeth, gripping her cheeks again with his fingers, the thrusts of his hips teasing again and again the little bud inside her made it difficult for her to gather her thoughts: she was only able to look at his face, his lips parted in lust, his gaze filled with rage and love at the same time.

"– n-no – no, uncle –" She mumbled out with difficulty, her breath heavy as her fingers tightened on his naked, sweaty shoulders, her puffy nipples rubbing against the skin of his chest with his every thrust making the tension in her lower abdomen slowly reach its peak.

"– no? – maybe I should gouge his eyes out? – if he doesn't know he's a fool, that he has no fucking right to desire you –" He growled, pressing his forehead against hers, panting into her mouth, their hips coming up to meet each other in a desperate attempt to achieve fulfilment, her hands clamped down on his buttocks, again and again guiding his soaked, fat erection deep inside her.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She cried out, tilting her head back, feeling a sudden wave of hot, tickling pleasure and relief surge through her nipples, through her lips, the tips of her fingers and her little cunt, which began to squeeze him greedily, her legs crossed over his back, refusing to let him pull away.

Her husband let out a low, helpless, almost animalistic groan and reached his peak inside her, filling her silky insides, clenching around his twitching manhood, with his seed. He fell on top of her after a moment without strength, his hand stroking her cheek hot with emotion.

"– it's not your fault – he's been watching you for weeks –" He whispered, placing tender, gentle, moist kisses on her face.

"– I swear to you that he is already… –" He sighed and froze suddenly, his body tensed in her embrace.

"– hm? –" She asked sleepily, struggling to open her eyes, trying to calm herself down after what she had just experienced.

"– fuck – Viserys –" He muttered horrified, pulling out of her quickly and grabbing his breeches, putting them on his legs.

"– what? –" She asked, rising up on her elbows, not understanding what had frightened him so suddenly, only noticing after a moment that the door to their chamber was slightly ajar.

"– has he seen us? Aemond, don't do anything foolish, don't shout at him! –" She called after him in despair as he put on his shirt in a careless, quick motion and left their chamber, closing the door behind him. She pulled her nightgown over herself, stroking her swollen abdomen with her hand, thinking about what to do.

After many minutes that felt like an eternity she became impatient, scared and tired, wondering why it had taken so long, whether she should go there and react.

She jumped up in her seat, feeling her heart in her throat when finally her uncle returned to their chamber, pale, his eye wide open. He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.

"We were just having a conversation. Like father and son." He assured her, seeing the look on her face as he headed towards their bed, laying down powerlessly on the sheets.

She immediately moved towards him, laying down beside him, pressing her forehead against his exactly as she had when they were children.

Her husband rubbed the tip of his nose against hers.

"You were right. It helped. He opened up to me and I opened up to him. I feel lighter." He whispered quietly, as if he was telling her his embarrassing little secret.

She smiled involuntarily at his words, placing her hand on his back.

"I'm so happy."

Her uncle hummed at her words, a gleam in his eye that she knew all too well.

"I also paid a short visit to the guard who finds it so pleasant to look at my wife. We discussed this… matter properly." He murmured, tucking an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear, causing a cold, wonderful shiver to pass through her.

"It turns out he's very attached to his two eyes."

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fayes-fics · 9 months

Text

Moments: 'Twas The Nights Before Christmas...

Moments Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: It’s Christmas, and once again, the Bridgerton clan are gathering at Aubrey Hall to celebrate together. However, all Benedict can think about is conceiving a fifth child... if only he and his wife can get a moment of privacy.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, breeding kink. Fluff & humour, thwarted intimacy, kids being kids, Viscounts being Viscounts.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Sorry this is about 2 weeks late, but here is the latest festive one-shot for Moments. It is set 6 years after the main story/their marriage and is based on an idea from the lovely @colettebronte (Request: Benedict and Reader want some adult alone time but keep getting interrupted/foiled because of holidays, family, and SO MANY KIDS), who also beta read an early version. I hope you all enjoy <3

23rd December, 11:04pm

“Was your evening agreeable, Mrs Bridgerton?” His voice is silky as he trails hot kisses down your throat.

“You know it was,” you reply, hand sinking into his lush hair, directing his lips where you want them as he smirks knowingly against your skin. He always enjoys it when you lead him, pushing into his warm body, clad only in a white ruffled shirt and trousers.

This is you finding a moment of intimacy with your husband as you get ready for bed in your guest room in Aubrey Hall. It’s two days before Christmas, and the entire Bridgerton clan have gathered at the family’s country seat to celebrate the holiday, a large house now packed with many children. You and Benedict are here with your brood of four.

Just as your fingers toy with the buttons on his shirt and his land on the bow of your gown…

“Mummy, I cannot sleep,” a little voice cuts in from across the room.

You twist around to see your youngest, two-year-old Thomas, standing in the doorway, his little fist clinging to the door handle at head height.

“One moment, lovely,” you call, watching him nod drowsily and toddle back into the adjoining nursery.

You bury your forehead into Benedict’s shoulder, knowing the possible romantic interlude is lost but unwilling to admit it out loud.

“Why do you have to be so damn handsome?” you grouse.

You feel his quiet laugh quaking his body as much as you hear it. “Thank you, my love. But that seems a non sequitur to this particular dilemma?”

“Quite the contrary,” you counter, raising your head. “We would not have these offspring interrupting us if I could resist you,” you sigh, shooting him a mock pout.

He breaks into a full belly laugh that creases his whole face. “How about I deal with the children I am responsible for, and you get some well-deserved rest, hmm?” he suggests chivalrously, nuzzling your cheek.

“You know, such wonderous things make me open to persuasion about more children, Mr Bridgerton,” you jest lightheartedly, swatting his bicep playfully.

His responding chuckle is rich. “Why do you think I do it, Mrs Bridgerton?” he hums, his lips grazing your temple, his flirtatious tone causing that flutter low in your belly. He has been quite enthused by the idea of a fifth child for a while now.

“Mummyyyyyy,” Thomas reappears at the door, his tone more whiney this time.

“You get Daddy this time, Thomas,” Benedict responds over your shoulder, releasing his hold on you, walking over to the doorway and hauling his infant son into his arms. “I hope I prove an acceptable substitute; Mummy needs to rest. Now, how about a Christmassy bedtime story…?”

Before he disappears into the nursery, Benedict shoots you a devoted but heated look that makes you want to strip him bare.

—

24th December, 7:14am

“Good morning, beautiful,” Benedict breathes into your ear as you awaken.

Last you remember, when you stirred in the early hours, you were alone in the bed. You had padded to the nursery and clutched your chest at the sight of Benedict, and the little ones all curled up on a mass of pillows and blankets on the fireplace rug, just visible in the ember glow, an open book in his hand. After a few beats of staring at the adorable pile of sleeping Bridgertons, you closed the door quietly and snuck back to bed. He must have awoken at some subsequent point and joined you.

“Good morning,” your reply is scratchy from sleep, burrowing back into your husband's embrace, reluctant to throw off the covers just yet.

“I think I would like to persuade you this morning…” his opening gambit as his hand slides down over your thin silk nightgown, rucking the hem up your thighs.

“To do what?” you obfuscate, an unseen smile toying on your lips. You know precisely what he refers to, but you want to see how he will broach it.

“I do believe you may be amenable to more children, my love,” he rumbles into the nape of your neck, dropping a kiss there as his warm fingertips swirl on your thigh.

“Am I?” you feign ignorance, that smile growing wider, a flush spreading through your being at how your husband can be when babymaking is on the cards. “But this is not a family wedding, and that is your usual milieu,” you tease, flipping over to capture a brief, chaste kiss.

“A family gathering is close enough,” he counters over your lips, then swallows your noise of bemused derision with a passionate kiss that has you arching up and pulling him on top of you as your tongues tangle.

“IS IT CHRISTMAS?!?”

Amelia barges through the nursery door, a ball of enthusiasm and jumping excitement.

“I thought I locked that blasted door...” Benedict grumbles tacitly over your cupid's bow as you giggle.

“Not today, Amelia, that is tomorrow,” you respond placatingly, turning your head to look at her and stroking your husband’s arm as he sighs deeply into your neck, knowing your intimate moment is gone.

Your tiny entertainer climbs onto the bed as your husband rolls away defeated, a triumphant look on her face as she claims a prime spot among her favourite audience, her parents.

Isobel then appears in the nursery doorway holding Thomas’ hand. “It is only fair we get to join too,” she appeals.

“Fine, yes, come join us, my sweet,” Benedict calls genially if a touch reluctant.

“I brought the story, Daddy,” Isobel adds as all three settle between you, handing over the book he had been reading the previous night. “I thought you and Mummy could read the rest to us; we do so need to know how it ends, do we not…?”

Amelia and Thomas nod along, enthused, and you have the creeping suspicion your children have somehow conspired to get their way. Especially when eldest James wanders in and casually perches at the end of the bed, a lopsided smirk identical to Benedict’s as he pointedly gestures for you both to begin reading.

“I do believe we may have been hoodwinked by our children,” you sidebar quietly to your husband as he opens the book to locate where he had left off.

“I suspect so,” he responds sotto voce, but there is such contentment in his tone as he surveys the gaggle of children filling your bed—you just know he could not be any happier about it.

—

24th December, 9:57pm

You are taking some fresh air on the terrace after another busy family day, rounded off with a convivial dinner when strong arms wrap around your middle.

“The children are in bed, sleeping this time. Should we resume our plans?” he rumbles as he pulls you back into his solid frame.

You scoff bemused. “Here on the terrace? Where any of the family could wander out?”

“You didn't seem to mind all those years ago when you were pregnant with Isobel,” he points out, both of your eyes cutting off to the pillar where, indeed, you had taken your husband into your mouth right there after the family Christmas dinner.

“You cannot hold me responsible for my behaviour when I am pregnant; you know how I get,” you shoot back, lacing your fingers with his hand at your waist and swaying gently.

“Oh, I think it simply delightful. Why do you think I want you pregnant again, my love? Hmmm? We could take a walk somewhere. Perhaps the woods?” His voice is low and skitters over your collarbone pitched at that cadence he knows always makes you weak.

“‘Tis late December and close to freezing,” you point out feebly, your reticence ebbing as his warm lips land on your shoulder, right by the neckline of your dress.

“I will keep you warm,” he vows, sucking your skin insistently, a damp heat that invariably ignites a flame in your gut.

“You are so very persuasive, husband,” you mutter, pushing your bottom back against the nascent swelling in his britches and guiding one of his hands from your waist up to your mouth, kissing his knuckles.

“I do so enjoy persuading you,” he purrs before opening his mouth wider and gently grazing the edge of his teeth over your flesh, your arm reaching up to wrap around his neck, grinding back against him insistently now and sucking his fingertips into your mouth.

“Benedict! I was wonde….” the Viscount’s voice rings out.

Anthony bustles onto the terrace but stops short at the sight of you both in an ardent cinch. You immediately slide away from your husband but know it’s too late, both of your clothing slightly dishevelled and a bloom on the top of your collarbone from your husband’s zealous attentions, your saliva glistening on Benedict's fingers.

“Sorry…”Anthony stumbles, his cheeks heating at the obvious interruption.

“I apologise, my lord,” you lower your head, embarrassed.

“Perhaps it would be wise to keep your… amorous activities… to more private spaces,” he chastises gently, recovering.

“Was that not you and Kate I saw against the stable wall yesterday?” Benedict challenges, wrapping his arm around your waist, defiantly pulling you back into him, his tone full of sibling goading.

Anthony flushes claret red. “Well… I…” You can feel Benedict smirking as his older brother flounders. “That is no matter. But I wish to discuss something with you if you do not mind,” he finishes pointedly with a brusque nod, firmly changing the topic.

Sensing there is something Anthony would like to broach now, you twist your head to whisper to Benedict. “It sounds as if it would be best you do as your brother wishes, my love. We will resume later, I promise,” you pledge, your voice intentionally laden.

“I do believe you are right, as ever,” he concurs reticently, squeezing your waist. “I shall see you anon,” his whisper thrillingly auspicious.

—

25th December, 2:17am

“Do you think the Viscount will mind?” You murmur, your lips on his ear as you rise and fall. Pressing yourself into him as much as possible.

“That we are fucking in his dining room in the dead of night?” Benedict checks, his hands banded around your waist, encouraging your movements. The moonlight streams through the large windows, throwing everything into sharp relief, the room bathed in streaks of light and shadow.

You giggle and gently teeth the shell of his ear, slightly breathy with exertion. “Yes.”

“Yes, I think he will mind,” he chuckles, splaying his large hand wide, hooking his thumb onto your clit even as his fingers crest your hips. It makes you groan loudly, your hardened nipples dragging against his chest, adding to the sensation as you ride his cock. “But I say this is apt payback for his interruption earlier. So make all the noise you want, darling.”

“He can watch for all I care,” you stutter, leaning away from him and grasping the large, sturdy banquet table behind your back, using it as leverage to fuck him harder.

Benedict groans at the idea you would fuck him even with an audience. His eyes are on your face as you look down, watching his solid cock disappear inside you by the pale glow of the room. It’s a sight you always enjoy, feeling him push you open inside as you sink.

“Do you like what you see?” He murmurs his voice buttery, his thumb on your clit circling more insistently now.

You tear your eyes away from the hypnotic sight and raise your head to meet his hooded, amorous gaze. “Always,” you affirm.

It’s a daring thing to do in the early hours of Christmas Day while the rest of the gathered Bridgerton clan sleeps. But after two days of thwarted intimacy, this was almost inevitable.

You had retired as Anthony detained Benedict in his study discussing business matters. However, you awoke thirsty sometime after midnight and came downstairs for a drink. Benedict had followed soon after and found you—sipping a glass of water and staring out across the moonlit grounds.

One kiss led to another and another, and then you were both peeling off nightwear. The look on his face as you pushed him into a dining chair and straddled his lap was priceless. And now here you are. Riding him with your feet hooked onto the crossbar of the chair gives you the leverage you need to go so hard that the sturdy chair squeaks in objection.

He utters words of encouragement as you tighten your arms around him and sit back upright, wanting to feel all his skin against yours.

“What shall we call this child?” he murmurs. “Perhaps Joy as it is Christmas?”

“We cannot conceive a child here!” you protest huskily, even as an excited quiver wracks your frame, so very needy after so many denied attempts at intimacy since you arrived.

“Oh yes, we bloody can,” he growls and surges his hips upwards, his cock grazing so deep you go limp at the sensation of being plundered so thoroughly.

“What if it is a boy?” you gasp as he takes over, his grip on your hips vicelike as he lifts you and then pulls you back down into his lap in forceful strokes.

“Noel, of course,” he chimes, jubilant, not missing a beat with his movements.

You just nod weakly, too drunk on the sensations coursing in your body to disagree. His mouth is back on that same spot he bothered earlier, no doubt leaving a dark mark you already know he won't care for you to conceal. He loves it when you bear his love bites, even in front of his family.

“Unhook your feet,” he mumbles, and as you do so, he stands up, still buried inside you and lays your back upon the table.

Then it's a blur of swallowed moans and dewy skin as he fucks you hard, your nails scraping down his back as his hands band under your shoulders, tugging your whole being down onto his cock relentlessly, the table now squeaking louder than the chair had.

You babble a litany of encouraging words into his hair and hold on tight, your heels digging into his rear, skating the edge of that enthralling abyss that is so addictive.

“Come for me, my love,” he pleads, those fingers back between your bodies, catching your clit. And then you are away, breaking and tumbling over the edge, trying desperately to muffle your ecstatic cries, face buried in his neck as your whole body spasms and bliss radiates out from where you clench hard around his cock.

His movements become erratic, and his grasp on you so tight before he growls and freezes, a groan wracking his body, his seed spilling deep inside as you still float away, writhing under him as he pins you down.

And, a few minutes later, after re-dressing, you both creep back upstairs to your room, giggling and wrapped in each other's arms, grateful it seems no one has stirred (yes, not even a mouse) on this magical night before Christmas.

Some Moments are indeed best uninterrupted.

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