http://i2.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/019/023/Screenshot_161.png
Shhhh... let's just keep this between you and me, pastebin entry page.  It'll be our little secret.

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

"Hnng... M'wah?"
>You are Anon, and you just woke up to an empty moon-bed.
>You grope blindly over at Nightmare Moon's side of the enormous bed, and find nothing but a patch of warm sheets.
>....
>Well that's not right.
>Your wife should be there.
>That's where sleepy moon horses go when it's time for bed.
>Your sleepy brain slowly chugs to life, just enough to give you the presence of mind to open up your eyes and investigate.
>....yup.
>Just as you suspected.
>Moon-wife is nowhere to be found.
>With the mystery solved and peace of mind restored, you roll over and close your eyes, eager to squeeze another hour of sleep in before you need to do moon-king things with your wife.
>KNOCK KNOCK
>The giant bedroom door creaks open and three little heads poke inside, one stacked on top of the other.
>They belong to your kids; two daughters and a son.
>"Daddy?"
>The lowest head stage-whispers to you.
>"Are you awake?"
>You grunt the grunt of a man who wishes he kept silent so that he could go back to sleep.
>The lowest little head disappears, and you hear her whisper to someone outside.
>"He's awake, mommy!"
>Oh, there she is.
>Mystery double-solved.
>The door swings wide open, and your small family trots their way over to your bed.
>Moonbeam and Nightlight, your two eldest daughters, lead the charge with heads high and proud smiles on their faces.
>Nightlight's got a tray of food balanced precariously on her back and you watch with vacant, half-asleep interest as the contents jump and slide around in time with her gait.
>Riding on Moonbeam's back is your son, Moonstone, who is still just a foal.
>He's only a few months old, but you already couldn't love him any more if you tried.
>You could have done with better names, but their mother insisted on moon-themed monikers.
>You tried to intervene, but the moon-doctors and moon-nurses insisted that your wife's births had made you too emotional to think straight.
>By the time you were no longer deemed "hysterical", the deed was done and your children were all named like a bunch of shitty self-insert fanfiction OCs.
[spoiler]>original character do not steal[/spoiler]
>Your children make it about halfway across the room when Nightmare Moon makes her appearance.
>Stiff-legged and straight-backed, you'd be willing to bet money that she could balance a book on her head perfectly.
>Even when all she's doing is accompanying her own children into her own bedroom, she walks as though she's about to address her subjects in moon-court.
>She's even got her usual armor and horse-booties on.
>You swear to god, if she scuffs up the floor with those things, you won't go down on her for a whole week.
>Your youngest child's eyes widen and his ears perk up as Moonbeam carries him closer and closer to you.
>Moonstone makes tiny baby noises at the sight of you and nearly gives you a heart attack when he spreads his little wings and jumps off of his sister's back.
>Moonstone flutters his tiny wings and gently pitters over in your general direction.
>No no no!
>He's not supposed to learn how to fly for another month!
>It seems to take him an age to finally cover the distance between you and his sisters, and you prepare to catch him in case he falls.
>As soon as he gets close enough, you (gently) snatch him out of the air and hug him to your chest.
>This isn't the first time you've caught him flying without supervision, and it certainly won't be the last.
>You don't care how many winged children you've had over the years or what Nightmare says about how resistant they are to fall damage, you're never going to get used to watching your precious little bundles of life nearly fall to their deaths.
>Moonstone is ignorant to your distress and entertains himself by making happy baby-horse noises and nuzzling your face.
>D'aww.
>You smile and nuzzle him back.
>Years and years ago, you had scoffed and been suitably offended when Nightmare Moon insisted that the brunt of the child-rearing would go to you.
>She believed that stallions were natural care-givers and wouldn't hear a word otherwise.
>Turned out, in your case, she was right.
>You love being a father.
>"Happy birthday, daddy!"
>You grin happily (and tiredly) at your beloved children.
>A teal glow envelops the tray of food and gently lifts it off of Nightlight's back, and then places it onto your lap.
>Your wife kindly holds it up in the air long enough for you to sit up and deposit Moonstone safely by your side.
>There's a bowl of cereal, a glass of juice (moon-apple), and a black shingle from the roof.
>What?
>Nightmare nudges your leg with a hoof.
>"The children made you breakfast, Anonymous."
>Nightlight gets on her hind legs and braces herself on your mattress, and then reaches out with a forehoof to poke your arm.
>"Moonstone helped, too!"
>Moonstone babbles and happily buries his face into your side, and you absently wrap an arm around his tiny body.
>You can't help but chuckle at the thought of your months-old child expertly preparing breakfast for you.
"I'm sure he did, sweetie."
>Nightlight beams at you.
>You turn to your wife and playfully smirk at her.
"Did you help too, Nightmare?"
>What role did she have in your breakfast preparation?
>You've seen her try to cook before, and it didn't end well.
>You guess that's what happens when you have chefs prepare each meal for you for hundreds of years.
>Nightmare sniffs dismissively at you and puts on her public 'regal' face.
>"I may be a mare, Anonymous, but that doesn't mean I cannot cook. 'Tis insulting to insinuate that I cannot provi-"
>"Uh-huh!"
>Moonbeam interrupts, nodding profusely in her mother's defense.
>"She poured the juice!"
>Of course she did.
>You can't help but snicker at your wife, whose face now resembles someone who just ate an entire lemon.
>The scrunch is real.

>A glance down at your breakfast (specifically your cereal) tells you just how fucked your tastebuds are.
>You grab your spoon and start poking around at the bowl.
>As you start moving things around, you begin to recognize different types of cereal.
>Celesti-o's.... Moon Bran.... Marshmallows from that one brand of sugary cereal that your wife buys for your kids no matter how many times you tell her not to....
>It's an amalgamation of cereals, and you're pretty darn sure it's going to taste horrible.
>But you'll be damned if you're not going to eat the breakfast that your children made just for you.
>You scoop a big spoonful into your mouth and wince.
>It tastes as bad as it looks.
>The sugary cereal is way too sweet, and the chunks of wood and cardboard that make up your bran cereal have turned to mush.
>It's not until you experience how hard and crunchy the Celesti-o's are that you remember that you haven't bought Celesti-o's since... ever.
>You slowly start to chew the cereal, grinding the mushy and crunchy mess into an (hopefully) easier to swallow pulp.
>Where did your kids find this cereal, and how old is it!?
>This how you die, isn't it?
>You look up at your wife, desperate for help, but all she does is smile sweetly at you.
>"Do you like it, husband?"
>Dammit, she's in on this.
>She knows exactly what your kids are feeding you.
>She probably found the Celesti-o's herself.
>You smile at her through a mouthful of goop and hum in the affirmative.
>The first mouthful goes down easy.
>The second one, not so much.
>On the third one, you feel yourself retch but mask it with a cough.
>You decide that three bites of Franken-cereal will have to be enough to make your kids happy.
>You put the spoon back into the bowl and slide it away from you, smacking your tongue against the roof of your mouth in an effort to make the flavor go away.
>Seeing that you've stopped eating the cereal, Nightlight starts to jump up and down excitedly.
>"Is it good, daddy?"
>She's got this big, earnest smile on her face, and your heart melts just a tiny bit.
"Of course it is, Sweetie."
[spoiler]>She can never know the truth.[/spoiler]
>Your daughter stops jumping and scrunches up her nose.
>She looks back and forth between you and the unfinished bowl of cereal with innocent curiosity.
>"Then how come you aren't eating it all?"
>Shit.
>You plaster a smile on your face and scratch Nightlight behind the ears.
"Daddy's going to save the rest of it for later, okay?"
>No, daddy's going to pour the cereal down the sink and hope that you forget all about it.
>Nightlight leans into your hand and smiles.
>"Okay, daddy."
>Your daughter's nose unscrunches almost immediately as you go to town with your fingers.
>You aren't sure if it's because she likes ear-scratches, or if it's because she's pleased with your answer.
>Nightlight is her mother's daughter, and Nightmare Moon absolutely adores her ear-scratches.
>Knowing this, you're willing to bet the former rather than the latter.
>Moonbeam huffs impatiently as she watches her sister get ear-scratches, only letting her enjoy them for a few seconds before trying to get your attention.
>Your other daughter jumps up right next to her sister (rudely shoving her out of the way) and points at your tray with a hoof.
>"Try the toast next, daddy! I made it!"
>You eye the blackened slab of charcoal apprehensively.
>That's toast?
>That was once moon-bread?
>How the fuck did three mares and a baby colt mess up toast this badly!?
>Put bread in the toaster
>Select a setting that isn't 'maximum'
>Wait three minutes for it to cook to a golden brown
>Bam
>Toast.
>You poke the black slab of toast, wincing as black flakes fall off and onto the plate.
>This is going to be bad, isn't it?
>You don't want to disappoint your beloved horse children, so you grit your teeth, take a deep breath, and jam that toast into your mouth.
>The toast breaks off in your mouth like an exceptionally crisp cracker, and powdery black dust goes everywhere.
>EVERYWHERE.
>You wince as your tongue dries up almost instantly from all this dry crap in your mouth.
>You glance up at your wife for support.
>Maybe she can do something.
>Maybe she can tell the kids to run off and play so that you don't have to eat this any more.
>Nightmare catches your eye and then looks pointedly down at your children.
>You look down and find them staring at you with big, proud smiles on their faces.
>....
>Think of the kids, Anon.
>As you start to chew, you figuratively lie back and think of England.
>The taste is atrocious, and only the intervention of a mouthful of juice allows you to swallow it down.
>The juice-soaked lump of charcoal goes down slowly and painfully.
>Even with the juices help, you can still taste the burntness on your tongue and all the way down your throat.
>All the juice in the palace couldn't make this toast any less inedible than it already is.
>You cough into your fist as you feel the toast and cereal start trying to come back up your throat.
>You know what?
>You ate the cereal, and you drank the juice.
>Two out of three isn't bad.
>You put the toast back down onto the plate and lift the tray off of your lap.
>Nightmare Moon, thankfully, takes this as a sign to grab the tray with her magic and take it away from you.
>Before your kids have the chance to ask why you didn't eat more than a single bite of the toast, you start patting the mattress next to you.
"Come on up, girls!"
>Moon-horses LOVE uppies.
>Predictably, Moonbeam and Nightlight's faces light up, and they alternate between scrabbling with their hooves and flying with their wings to get up onto your bed.
>Careful not to disturb or crush your little colt (who had fallen asleep against you at some point), you hug your young daughters to your chest.
>As soon as they're in range, you give them each a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.
>...you're a dad in a world where you're basically the mom, alright?
>You're allowed to do these things.
>Your daughters react exactly how you expected them to: they giggle and try to push your face away with their hooves.
>"Ew, daddy!"
>"Blugh! Moon-cooties!"
[spoiler]>You will never regret insisting on prefacing everything with 'moon', way back when you and Nightmare first got banished here and had to decide on what names to give things.[/spoiler]

~Later that evening~
>"I got you a present, husband."
>Is it a lacy, red testicle-bra?
>Again?
>It had better not be.
[spoiler]>Not after you caught her trying it on when she thought you weren't home.[/spoiler]
"Is it lingerie?"
>You grin at your wife, who blushes and blusters like an old man.
"Because that's more of a present for you than it is for me."
>"N-No, it's not!"
>Nightmare stamps her widdle hoofsies like a child having a tantrum and looks decidedly distressed.
>Even after hundreds of years of marriage, Nightmare still gets flustered when you talk about sex.
>Silly medieval-attitude horses.
>You cup your chin and try to think of any recent projects that Nightmare had been working on.
>You leave that mare alone without Queenly duties, and the next thing you know she's taken apart the magical scrying device and started building a moon-deck in the backyard.
"Did you... finish writing 'Celestia Is A Cunt' on the moon's surface?
>Nightmare shakes her head.
>"Even better."
>Whoa, full-stop.
>She's been working on that for almost 200 years, and it's her (admittedly petty) pride and joy.
>She smiles at you proudly (if smugly) and gestures out the window.
>Outside, you see an unusual cluster of stars in the night sky that weren't there yesterday.
>"It took me 20 years to figure it out, but I've managed to arrange for a new permanent constellation in the night sky."
>She hums happily to herself.
>"It will be visible from both our realm as well as my traitorous sister's lands."
>Nightmare's horn glows teal-green, and the cluster of stars becomes more well-defined and less like a jumble of lights.
>pic related
https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2015-05/12/16/enhanced/webdr04/anigif_enhanced-2749-1431460963-4_preview.gif
>You wordlessly mouth the message Nightmare has written in the stars for you.
>'I love you, Anonymous'
>A message that every living thing will see.
>One that will never fade for as long as you live.
>Nightmare Moon extends her neck and lovingly nuzzles your face.
>"Happy birthday, husband. Don't ever forget that you're the brightest star in my night sky."
>....
>F-Fuck.
>Did your wife let any of those damn moon-pegasi into your bedroom?
>Because it's moon-raining all over your face right now.