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jacesvelaryons · 3 months

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Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

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

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

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

word count: 3.0k

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

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

request status: OPEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N-”

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

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

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

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

“What is the meaning of this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3K notes · View notes

peachessndreamss · 1 month

Text

Weirwood Tree

Summery : While in labour with their second child, Cregan and his wife take s short walk to the Weirwood tree to help get things moving.

Characters : Cregan Stark x f!wife reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings : Pregnancy and childbirth (nothing explicit)

Word count : 3k

A/N : Turns out you never shake being a Stark girl, Ily Cregan so much.

“I’m sorry t’say it, my lady, but your labours have slowed up,” the midwife said softly as she drew the sheets back over Lady Starks bent knees before dipping her hands in a bowl of water.

“Slowed up?” Lady Stark repeated incredulously, dropping her head back on the feather pillow, “but it's been hours already,” she added, tears burning her eyes.

The second child of Lord Cregan stark and his lady wife was in no rush to make their way into the world. Despite the frequency and strength of her earlier pains once the midwife and maester had been sent for, everything seemed to have come to an uncomfortable halt.

The midwife had brought her ancient grandmother along with her, known through Winterfell and the winter town as Auld Joan, she had been a midwife in her own time and had delivered Cregan's father and uncle. She was mostly blind and deaf now but still attended births but spent most of the time sitting as close to a heat source as possible and dispensing wisdom if necessary. She was currently sitting in a chair next to the roaring fire, her ancient hands clasped on her lap, knuckles bulging out of shape and fingers curled like claws.

“I know it's been a while,” the midwife said soothingly, placing a warm hand on Lady Stark's knee, “but sometimes it's just like this,”.

“The last one wasn't like this,” Lady Stark grumbled, her mood darkening as she tried to shift around into a more comfortable position.

“You mustn't compare one with another,” the midwife soothed before touching a cold cloth to the lady's forehead.

“A walk will geyit moving ,” the old woman wheezed from her seat by the fire, “no’ this lying about,”.

The maester, who had been mostly disinterested in proceedings up until this point shot the old woman a dark look, he was standing in the far corner of the room, a leather case of vicious metal tools clutched jealously to his chest. His grey robes matched his grey and sickly looking skin. He wasn't particularly interested in births or deaths or the everyday ailments of life and resented being summoned to the birthing room of any woman.

“This position is agreed upon as being the correct way for labouring mothers,” he said coldly in a clipped southern accent.

“Agreed by men who know nothing about it,” the crone grumbled.

“What does she mean?” Lady Stark asked the midwife who was now gently feeling the swell of the lady's belly.

“Baby's not quite in righ’ place, that's why things have slowed,” she explained as she pressed on the left side of the belly, Lady Stark winced, “but grandmother thinks a little walk might get things moving again,”.

The midwife glanced over at her grandmother who had closed her eyes and was now looking peaceful in the flickering light of the fire, she looked back at her lady and dabbed the cloth over her cheeks before putting it back beside the bowl of cold water.

“What do you think?”Lady Stark asked.

She shrugged, making a point not to look towards the maester before replying.

“It helped me with mine, and it wouldn't do you any harm,”.

The maester opened his mouth to disagree and lady stark held up her hand to silence him.

“Just walking through the keep, out into the godswood for the fresh air should do it,” the midwife continued.

The lady nodded and lifted herself up onto her elbows, she addressed the maester, privately enjoying ordering the sour faced man about.

“Lord Cregan is outside the door, fetch him in,” she said.

Cregan Stark had paced the halls outside of his wife's rooms since he'd been asked to leave them several hours before. While he wasn't accustomed to being removed from parts of his own castle he respected that father's, even lords, were not expected to be present at the births of their children,so he was surprised to hear the door opening when he was fairly certain nothing much had happened yet.

“My Lord?” The voice of the maester echoed off the walls as the lord strode into view, “your wife would like to see you,”.

He nodded, his face stern as he stepped past the man and into the warm, dark room.

“Seven Hells,” he murmured as he pulled at the collar of his shirt, instantly feeling the heat of the room rolling over him like a wave, sweat breaking out on his forehead and upper lip.

As he looked around the room he was surprised to see the midwife helping his wife into her fur boots, a long, heavy cloak already covering her shoulders.

“Going somewhere?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She turned her flushed face to him and smiled.

“Yes, we're going for a walk,”.

Cregan’s brows rose but he nodded without further comment, knowing better than to ask questions. He watched nervously as the midwife helped his wife to her feet, ready to spring forward at any moment if it looked like Lady Stark might lose her balance.

Once he was happy she was safely on her feet, Cregan stepped towards them, offering his arm to his wife, who took a small step and linked her arm through his.

“Twice around the godswood’ll do it,” Auld Joan spoke from the chair, she opened one ancient eye that could just be seen through the folds of skin that made up her face.

“Or as far as you need’t,” the midwife added, her eyes flicking towards the maester.

From the darkest corner of the room the maester muttered under his breath “foolishness” but no one else could hear him or pay him a moment's more attention.

As the Lord and Lady of Winterfell stepped out of the stifling room and into the cooler corridor of the keep they both gave a sigh of relief. As they walked they instinctively drew closer to one another. Finding comfort and strength in each other's presence.

“This is an unexpected pleasure,” Cregan said as they stepped through the door of the keep and into the much colder air of the inner bailey. The ground was a mess of mud, straw, snow and grey brown slush that cracked and crunched under their boots.

“Yes,” she agreed, her hand tightening on his arm as her foot slipped a little on a patch of hidden ice, “Auld Joan felt this would be the best way to get things moving again,”.

Cregan nodded, “She's seen a fair few babes born in her time, she knows what she's talking about,” he paused and took a deep breath of cold air, “I think she might have even delivered my grandfather,”.

“Surely not!” She exclaimed, looking up at her husband's handsome profile, “that would make her more than a hundred years old,”.

“I've heard of stranger things in these parts,” Cregan said with a shrug.

They walked quietly together, moving slowly and carefully through the slush.

“Not as easy as last time then?” He asked as they made their way past the archery butts where the young men of the household were practising and past the stables with their snorting horses and young boys shovelling straw.

“No, this one seems to have an obstinate Stark streak in them already,” she replied with a soft laugh that sounded like music to Cregan's ears.

“I seem to recall your own family are known for their stubbornness so I won't be taking all the responsibility for that,”.

“Pigheadedness, I believe my father called it,” she replied with a laugh, Cregan gave his own snort of laughter.

“Your father certainly has a way with words,” he agreed. Recalling a few choice phrases her father had used for him during their courtship.

As the pair crossed into the godswood the sounds of the keep and the town beyond the walls seemed to fade away and they became the only two people in the world. The ground was covered in a dusting of snow which had frozen overnight and now crunched under foot. From the dark canopy of the trees small birds sang between themselves and bounced from branch to branch, leaves rusting and falling to the ground in their wake.

“Aly is worried we won't have enough time for her when the baby arrives,” Lady Stark said as they passed under the first dark boughs, “she kept asking me if we were going to send her away when I was putting her to bed last night,”.

“She's a sensitive soul,” Cregan replied with a soft laugh, his mind wandering to the little girl who was at that moment playing in the same nursery he played in as a child, waiting for his own younger sibling to be born.

“I dread the day we do need to send her away,” she lamented, drawing her body even closer to his in the cold air. Her free hand resting low on the swell of her belly.

“We've many years before that day, my love,” he soothed, “and perhaps many more babes to fill our home,”.

Lady Stark laughed softly, feeling the dull ache of her labours growing in strength as they followed the well known path through the trees.

“You are insatiable, always wanting more,” she said softly and Cregan laughed.

They had been married 6 years and now were as comfortable with one another as any married couple could expect to be. Having been friends before they’re union had made things easier but the months after Cregan’s return from war had tested them to their limits. The time spent apart had been long and difficult for the both of them, when Cregan had left he was already old beyond his years but on his return he was darker and colder than the longest winter night. He’d forgotten laughter, softness and gentleness and his first few months back in Winterfell had been fraught as the two learned to live with one another again and find their way back to the happiness they’d briefly shared before the dragons tore the realm apart.

The followed a well trodden path through the woods, her arm wrapped tightly through his and his hand resting over hers, warm and solid. As they walked, Cregan listened to her breathing, noticing every change to her breath and hitch in her voice. He was ready to take her in his arms at any moment to rush her back to the midwife if was necessary.

They turned a corner in the path and were now on course to the weirwood tree, its ancient face seemed to watch their approach and its blood red leaves reflected in the black water at its roots.

Suddenly Lady Stark stopped, her free hand going to her belly with a sharp intake of breath, she groaned, her teeth biting into her top lip as a strong contraction wracked her body. Cregan tightened his hold on her, fear gripping at his heart and twisting his stomach.

After a few seconds of pain her face relaxed and her eyes opened, her cheeks were flushed with colour and despite the cold there was sweat at her hair line.

“I think this might be working,” she said with a small smile, “or perhaps the baby can feel the tree,” she added, glancing toward the weirwood.

“A good Stark then,” Cregan replied, forcing a lightness in his voice he didn’t feel.

She stepped toward the tree and he followed her closely, never letting her more than an arm's reach from him. Once close enough she placed her hands on the tree, feeling the rough bark rasp against her skin.

“Do you think the old kings of the north were born under this tree?” she asked, turning her face up as a shaft of wintery sunlight broke through the dense leaf cover, “snow and leaves for their midwife?”.

Cregan raised his eyebrow in thought for a moment before replying.

“They were certainly conceived under it,” he smiled.

“Yes, I remember the stories,” she agreed, turning to look at her husband and seeing the playful glimmer in his eyes.

During the long months of the war she’d found comfort in the thousands of books in the Winterfell library, starting with the histories of the North going all the way back to the first men and how those ancient kings of the North did everything important in their lives in sight of a weirwood tree, they were born, married, made oaths and died as close to the trees as they possibly could. The histories had included stories of rituals the ancient peoples had contrived to conceive their children under the boughs of the weirwood trees, they believed these children would have the gifts of prophecy or live impossibly long lives because the powers of the tree flowed through them.

“Perhaps, when you’re healed, we should try it ourselves,” Cregan teased.

“When this one is delivered I’ll let you know if you’ll be welcome in my bed again,” she replied with a sly smile, before adding “my lord,”.

Cregan gave a bark-like laugh, stepping closer to her and slipping his arm over her lower back and around her waist. She turned to face him, moving her hands from the ancient and cold bark of the tree to the living warmth of his shoulders, she studied his features before taking a deep breath and letting her forehead press against his. Another contraction wracked her body, she groaned and gripped tightly at the fur and wool of his cloak, taking strength from his body into her own.

“I think we need to go back,” she said softly, their foreheads still pressed together.

“I think so,” he agreed without hesitation.

Keeping his arm wrapped around her waist the two of them turned, she leaned heavily on Cregan as they completed the loop around the godswood and headed back through the castle courtyard. The space now almost completely empty as most of the household had been summoned for the midday meal.

The progress was slow but they soon made it back to Lady Stark’s chambers, the room was cooler now, the windows had been thrown open but the coverings drawn across them to keep the room dark. The two women were sitting by the fire, talking quietly while the maester was still standing in the corner of the room, glaring.

The midwife jumped to her feet and took Lady Stark’s arm, allowing her to slip from Cregan’s hold and move toward the bed.

“How are you feeling my lady?” the midwife asked softly.

“It helped, the pains are coming much more quickly now,” the lady replied.

“Baby will be here soon,” the midwife agreed, “perhaps before the noon meal is over,”

Lady Stark glanced over her shoulder at her husband pausing by the door. His broad shoulders blocked out almost all of the hallway behind him.

“I want you to stay,” she said softly as she was helped back onto the bed.

He smiled but shook his head.

“This is not my place” he said softly, as he felt a burning sensation at the back of his throat and in his eyes as he fought the sudden overwhelm of emotions.

“Thank you, my lord,” the old crone said from her seat, “we’ll take care of them,”.

Cregan nodded, knowing well enough when he was being asked to leave, he gave his wife a final look before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind himself and resuming his pacing. He wondered if his own father had paced nervously or if he had taken to the woods to hunt until the deed was over with and the child was cleaned and neatly wrapped in a blanket. He couldn’t imagine being any further than the castle gate while Lady Stark laboured.

As the midwife predicted the midday meal hadn’t finished before there was the high pitched, squalling cry of a newborn that caused Cregan to stop in his tracks and lean heavily against the wall of the hallway, his hand clutching at his heart that was beating fast enough to burst.

The door to the chambers opened and the midwife stepped out, a smile on her face as she saw her lord in a moment of unguarded emotion.

“A son, my lord, hale and hearty and with plenty to say for himself,” she said, the sounds of the crying child still coming clearly from the room behind her.

“God's be praised,” Cregan said, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Come meet him,”.

Cregan felt his knees turn to water when he stepped into Lady Stark's rooms, the sight of his beloved wife cradling a squalling newborn was a joy that pierced his heart like an arrow.

“Your son, my lord” she said with a tired smile, turning the bundle just enough for Cregan to be able to see the child's face.

He stooped and took the child, cradling him close to his chest, for a few seconds the child stopped wailing, his blue eyes opening wide and taking in his first sight of his father. The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds, Cregan's own eyes filling with tears. One hot tear was about to track down Cregan's face when the baby in his arms screwed his eyes shut, opened his mouth and started to howl, his cries even more desperate than before.

Lady Stark laughed from her seat on the bed, holding her arms out to take the child back.

“Give him back, you're upsetting our son,” she said, grinning at Cregan who jealously clung onto the child, rocking him gently and trying to sooth the screaming babe.

“Sorry my boy,” Cregan said softly, “but you'll just have to get used to me,”.

#cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x female reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfiction #tom taylor #fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #house stark #cregan #cregan fanfic #cregan x oc #cregan x reader #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x you #cregan stark headcanons

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luveline · 5 months

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kbd —Steve helps an emotional you downstairs to sate some late night cravings. pregnant!reader, 1.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Steve stirs at the top of the bed to the sound of pinging springs. He rubs his eye, feels sleep free itself from his lashes as he pushes onto an elbow.

“Honey?” he asks.

You turn to him with a frown. “Sorry.”

Steve doesn’t want you to be sorry, he was just figuring out which of his best girls it was moving around. He forces himself to sit up and turn on the lamp, unveiling the sight of you at the end of the bed in your maternity pyjamas, flowy blue fabric with white polka dots you’d bought to match Beth’s.

“You need help?” he asks.

You sound like you’re having a hard time breathing. “I’m trying to put my socks on.”

“Yeah? You wanna go downstairs?”

You always put your socks on before you go downstairs at night or in the early morning. The floors get cold no matter what you and he try to do to prevent it. He promises one day you’ll have enough money for heated floors. He’s not sure where he thinks that money is coming from.

“I’m gonna go have some ice cream.”

Your night time cravings lately are unstoppable. Steve pushes the sheets back and round the bed to the end, giving your face a short touch, and then getting down on his knees in front of you with his hands held out for your socks. He’d offer to go get it for you, but you’ll say no, he’s too tired. The only loophole he’s found for this is coming with you.

You give him your socks and a sorry smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. You know what I say.”

“Can’t sleep without me.”

He bunches your sock up and rolls it over your toes and up past your heel, your ankle. He does it gently like he’s rolling them onto one of the kids’ feet, he can’t really help himself. He likes being gentle with you. You can’t see your toes, so you might as well have him be kind to them.

“Can’t sleep without you,” he agrees, again bunching up the fabric of your sock to roll over your toes and heel.

He tugs it up straight on your calf and leaves his hand there for a selfish squeeze. “There, now you’re ready. Want your robe too?”

You frown suddenly, a familiar twist of your mouth and nose, eyebrows pinching down as your eyes fill with tears. He shakes his head at you before you can talk, his hand moving to your knee for sympathetic rubbing. “Don’t cry.”

“You’re so nice to me.”

“I love you,” he says, pushing himself up to stand and hug you. “Please don’t cry, Y/N, it’s just socks. I love putting your socks on for you.”

“You treat me like a princess,” you say with a sniff.

“You deserve it,” he promises. He wraps his arms around your head and neck, kissing your forehead with a loving sigh. “You do. Please don’t cry.”

Once you start you can’t stop. Steve doesn’t mind calming you down, it’s not like it isn’t exactly what he signed up for, but getting upset is never good for the baby or your extremely stressed body. “Please,” he murmurs, “let’s go downstairs, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, voice thick with tears.

Steve wraps you in a blanket and ushers you through the master bedroom door. Your pregnancy hormones are as off the charts as they’ve ever been, though last month you’d been quite snappy. This week you’re crying multiple times a day every day. Steve keeps waiting to run out of patience, but he has a good few kids, and you’re not doing anything wrong anyways. So what if you’re crying all the time? He can’t imagine how stressful it is to be that tired and heavy like this, or how many hormones are pumping through you at the moment. He got you pregnant. It’s his job to mitigate the symptoms to the best of his ability.

You sit down at the table, knowing without asking that he’s going to get your ice cream. He grabs it from the freezer with your favourite spoon (not so big, not so little), and passes you both with a smile.

“There, honey.”

Before he met you, Steve wasn’t used to pet names. He’d say baby and babe, he was a player, then heartbroken, and they’d come out weird because he didn’t really mean them, or he didn’t get what they meant in the first place. He calls you honey and he feels at once like the husband he is but it’s more than that. You’re his honey. You deserve to know how much you mean to him with every sentence he says, and there’s no easier way to do that than to pester you with pet names.

You use them just as much as he does. “Thanks, handsome.”

“Do you want anything else?”

Again, your frown, tears in your eyes as you peel the lid off of pint and pick up your spoon. “I’m fine,” you say tearily.

Steve scoots a chair as close to yours as is physically possible and sits, his hand falling to your knee. He’d squeeze your thigh if it wasn’t impeded by the round hill of your bump, the biggest it’s ever been. From the start of next week onward you can expect to go into labour. Within the month, you’ll have had the baby.

Steve can’t wait for it, and he’ll bet you can’t wait to be done. He says your name softly, giving the side of your leg a great massage, “Y/N, it’s okay.”

“I know, I just love you,” you say through a mouthful of ice cream, the spoon still on your lips.

“I love you too, honey, don’t worry about it.”

“Do you want some?”

He knows saying no won’t help. It’s probably four in the morning and he can’t imagine anything less appetising at the late hour, but he says, “Yeah. Just a little bit. I’m watching my figure.”

You laugh, still full of tears, and scoop up some ice cream to feed him. When he’s had it, he presses forward for a kiss, to your delight. Steve doesn’t mean to brag, but he knows you well. Cheering you up is easy. He steals a second kiss just for him and beams at the reaction it invokes, breathless laughter that doesn’t fade as you scoop up another spoonful of ice cream.

“How come the baby never wants something we can keep in the bedroom?” Steve asks.

“She’s like her sisters.”

“Yes she is,” Steve says, moving in for another squeeze of your leg. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, ice cream dripping from your spoon. “She can’t wait to meet you, Steve. She’s kicking every time she hears your voice. I think she knows how good you are to me.” You clear your throat. “She can tell you’re the nicest guy ever.”

He shushes you tenderly. “Come on, honey, no more crying. I’ll have to start being mean to you instead, nobody wants that, I don’t want that.”

“Please don’t be mean to me.”

Your hurt voice startles him. “I’m just kidding.” He kisses your temple. “You think I’d do that? I can’t do that to you, babe, I don’t want to.”

He spends twenty minutes convincing you he was just kidding while you weep into his shoulder.

Poor girl, he thinks sorrily.

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comfymommy · 10 months

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bookofbonbon · 5 months

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ours is the hunt - daemon targaryen.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader.

Warnings: 18+ Cheating. Hunting. Death/Killing. Mentions of pregnancy/ending a pregnancy. This is kinda fucked up, read the summary. Probably major spelling and grammar mistakes. Tense/POV mix ups.

Summary: Based on a request from the lovely @holy-minseok. like how westerosi kings warn the people of the consequences if they move out of line, reader presents daemons mistress to him on a spike with her swollen belly as a final warning for his betrayals.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: This took on a life of its own and didn't play out exactly as the request but, hopefully it's still enjoyable (well... as enjoyable as it can be). Italics section is a flashback.

The Kingswood is eerily silent in the minutes before sunrise. The party, like many of the woodland creatures, still slept, peaceful in their oblivion as servants moved quietly around the camp to prepare for the rush that daybreak would bring. You take a deep breath, the crisp forest air a welcome change from that of the stench of King’s Landing; the smell of the previous afternoon’s rain also lingers but it would dry with the promise of good weather and a bright sun.

“My Lady,” Ser Eadric Qyle calls, your most loyal, your sworn sword. “Everything is prepared to your instruction.”

“How many?”

“Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.”

The snap of a twig, a slight breeze, the distant wail of a wounded animal and the flutter of wings as the early morning bird sings its song as it flies across the waking sky. The forest whispers your name and you answer its call.

“Let the hunt begin.”

Your horse slows to a trot and eventually, to a stop as you approach the camp; an accompanying stablehand taking hold of the reins as a stool is brought to aid your dismount.

“I had wondered where my wife had gone,” Daemon’s voice comes from beside you with a hand held out. “I should have known to check the woods.”

Your smile is wide, eyes lighting up at his presence as you take his hand and dismount. He is still dressed in his sleeping robes, the Targaryen Prince having obviously just woken not long ago. The thought that he immediately came to seek you out upon waking endears you.

Steadying yourself with a hand on Daemon’s shoulder, you find your balance and firmly plant your feet on the stool; with the added height you find yourself at eye-level with him and greet him with a kiss to the side of his head.

“Good morrow, my love.”

Daemon returns the greeting by leaning into you with a groan, head dropping into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his arms wrapping around you.

“Remind me again why we must be here at this bloody thing?”

You wrap an arm around his shoulder, hand soothing his back.

“You cannot get out of this, Daemon,” you tell him with a small laugh.

Daemon groans again, his breath hot against your neck as he attempts to burrow his face deeper, grumbling all the while. He doesn’t get far however, when you thread your fingers through his unruly hair and pull.

“What was that, my love?”

“When you said you arranged a hunt for my name day, I thought it would be just us. Not a whole fucking camp for a Royal Hunt.”

While Daemon was content to revel in celebrations of his victory, a Royal Hunt and a Royal Tourney were two entirely different things. Besides, he could think of much better things to do on his name day and he makes it known, allowing you to hold his head in place, a familiar glint in his eyes that you force yourself to ignore.

“Did you really think your Lord-King brother would allow that? You have him to thank for-” you release his hair to gesture at the several tents. “-this.”

“Hm. How generous of him.”

You hum in agreement, adjusting the top of his robes.

“Very but, worry not, my love. Despite reports of only one stag, Ser Eadric and I managed to gain the trail of one other.”

A grin pulls at the corner of Daemon’s lips.

“The Royal Hunt will track one stag and we will hunt the other,” you finish. Using your grip on his robes to pull him closer, you brush your nose against his, before pressing your lips to his for a brief moment. He tries to deepen the kiss but you don’t allow him.

“Now, come,” you step down from the stool, taking his hand in yours. “Let's get you ready for the day.”

“Very well,” Daemon agrees, pressing a kiss to your hand with a charming smile.

You return the smile before turning and leading him back to the centre of the camp with a tight jaw.

Daemon’s mood lightens considerably thereafter. The Rogue Prince noticeably happier after you broke the news that the two of you would separate from the Royal Hunt because while Daemon loved to hunt, he hated not being the one to actually do it. He didn’t need someone else to track down the game just for him to land the final blow in some false display of strength and authority. He could do it himself. He wanted to do it himself. He liked to do it himself. And though his mood had lightened, you noted that it didn’t stop his eyes from wandering around in search of someone else.

By mid-morning, the camp is teeming with life, the several Lords and Ladies of Westeros who gathered in celebration of Daemon’s name day dotted all over the grounds and inside tents. You yourself enter the main tent with Ser Eadric, the grand structure larger than that of most of the homes of the smallfolk.

You don’t have to look far to find Daemon, Viserys’ great laugh leading you right to him; the two brother’s seated beside one another at a long table surrounded by other lords.

Turning to Eadric, you place a cloth in his hand. “Release the last stag and give this to the bloodhound,” you instruct. He nods, taking it in hand and departing.

Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders back to loosen them, a delightful smile gracing your lips as you approach Daemon and Viserys. Daemon immediately reaches out for you out of habit once you're seated, and you cradle his strong hand between your own.

“Ah my Lady,” Viserys greets you and you, him, with a bow of your head.

“Your Grace.”

“I have been meaning to offer you both my condolences following the death of your brother and my congratulations, I hear you have been named heir of Blood's End.”

You tighten your grip around Daemon’s hand then loosen it, both hands releasing his as you begin instead to fidget with your own fingers. Daemon notices immediately, taking hold of one of your hands in his, his grip firm in silent comfort as he sends you a reassuring look.

“A regrettable hunting accident,” you pull at the collar of your riding jacket. “But, please, accept my thanks for your congratulations, Your Grace. It is an honour and I can only hope to be half the ruler my Lord-father is of Blood's End.”

“Well, I cannot say what type of ruler you will be but, from what I heard you are double the hunter of that of what your brothers were and rival even that of your father-”

“Better,” Daemon interrupts proudly with a squeeze of your hand.

“Better?” Viserys’ repeats in amusement.

You breathe a laugh at Daemon’s antics, “I am able to hold my own somewhat.”

Daemon scoffs at your downplay of your skill, “my wife is humble, brother but, I am not. She is the better between her and her father. Perhaps one of the best in all the land.”

You make a show of balking at the declaration, forcing a meek laugh “I- that is not-”

But, Viserys’ cuts you off, holding one hand up in surrender, “if Daemon says you are one of the best then I believe him. I mean what good is it if House Chase’ words are ‘Ours is the Hunt’ if they cannot do exactly that?”

Viserys’ laughs heartily at his own joke and you spare a glance at Daemon who grins at you playfully.

The conversation teeters off soon after that as Daemon and Viserys’ listen to the report sent by the Royal Huntsman. You in turn, turn your attention to one of your Ladies-in-waiting, Lady Millicent. While the custom of having Ladies-in-waiting was unusual outside of the Great Houses, the custom was needed within your own House as it was in fact greater than even that of your liege lords, House Baratheon. House Chase commanded both a larger army and fertile lands that weren’t felled by the terrible weather that surrounded Storm’s End. House Chase was second to Baratheon in rank only.

“My Lady, I’ve been meaning to ask but, where is Lady Gwendolyn? I’ve not seen her around the camp all morning, I fear-”

“Yes,” Daemon interrupts abruptly. “Where is Lady Gwendolyn?”

You delight at the question, ears burning as you turn your attention to Daemon about your newest Lady-of-waiting of six, maybe seven months.

“I did not know you had such a keen interest in my ladies of waiting. Husband.”

“My only interest is that she attends to my grooming every morning and yet, when I needed her this morning, she was nowhere to be found.”

Daemon shrugs the question off with a practiced ease while your lips almost pull dangerously downwards, mask hanging by a thread and nearly slipping completely at the brazen statement. Instead you fix your smile, reaching across to smooth the neck of his hunting attire.

“I have given Lady Gwendolyn leave while we are here, she is likely with her kin in the woods.”

A dull light permeates from the lantern in your hand, bathing its immediate surroundings - including yourself - in a warm glow as you carefully navigate the unfamiliar bed chambers that your husband had come to frequent as of late. Shadows bouncing off of the walls, the silhouettes of the two figures in the bed become clearer the closer you get.

See, you weren’t naive to the ways of men and their crude sexual appetites; the way they would seek out other women when their wives could not sate them.

‘It is the way of men, he will have his whores and his playthings but you are his wife and no whore can take away from you.’ is what your mother had told you but, you would not heed her words. You would not lay down while your husband took mistresses and whores alike and you had told him so, warning him once of the consequences.

Placing the lantern down on the bedside table, you peer down at the Baratheon beauty laid in the bed with your husband; a few drops of milk of the poppy in their goblets and it was keeping both husband and whore sedated.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight as you settle yourself beside her sleeping figure, hip to hip as you take a closer look at your Lady-in-waiting, who had also taken up position as Daemon’s mistress, stealing both his time and attention from you.

Lady Gwendolyn of House Baratheon, the niece of a cousin of a second son nobody; a distant relative carrying the Great name of the Great Stags of the Stormlands.

“Ser Eadric,” you call on your sworn sword; fingers ghosting over her abdomen. The swell is slight but it is there. “Our Prince’s name day is fast approaching. Ensure arrangements have begun at first light. We will celebrate like none before.”

The sun sits at its peak in the sky, streams of its light filtering through the tops of the forest's trees. The crossbow is heavy in Daemon’s hands as he sits astride his horse, sweat gathering on his forehead as he watches his surroundings; the reins of your own horse in his other hand. He had led the first few hours, and now you had taken over.

As planned, the two of you went out with the Royal Hunt and eventually broke off under the guise of returning to the camp.

Daemon’s ears perk at the sound of a nearby wail and the flutter of several wings as a group of birds seem to scatter. Dismounting, Daemon joins you on the ground, coming to stand behind you as he scans the woods for any signs of danger. There is no danger however, just your blood hound.

Daemon moves past you and calls the hound to heel at his side.

“We’re close,” you toss the hours old droppings back onto the ground and pick up your own crossbow. “These droppings are fresh.”

“Very close.” Daemon calls you over to where the bloodhound sits obediently by his feet. There is blood around its jowl. A thrill goes down your spine at the sight, knowing that the two of you were close now.

“We go on foot from here,” he declares, trying the reins of your horses to a nearby tree and you agree.

Moving silently ahead through the Kingswood, what was once vibrating with life, has now come to standstill with your approach. All the woodland creatures recognising the two predators hunting in their territory.

Your eyes flitter from the ground to up ahead as you follow the Stag’s tracks, Daemon trailing behind you and then- the sudden trample of hooves to the left of you and a blur of brown and then silence.

“Daemon,” you whisper and nod up ahead.

There in the distance stands the Great Stag the two of you had been hunting for the better part of four hours, its mammoth antlers moving frantically as it turned its head over and over.

Daemon places a hand on the small of your back and you turn your head toward him.

“From here?” you ask and he nods, stepping carefully in front of you.

The Stag stumbles around clumsily, which Daemon can only assume is from when the bloodhound must’ve sunk its teeth into it but it otherwise remains in the same area, believing itself to be safe.

“Let us test out the might of these crossbows from here,” Daemon croons quietly. The armourer had declared it the single most powerful crossbow, capable of bringing down the greatest creatures from an even greater distance.

Positioning himself, Daemon presses his body against yours, your hand touching his collar before you slide it down and place it on his waist. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of both of your breaths as you watched over his shoulder. He lines up the shot, finger on the trigger, your breaths in harmonious sync, his back against your chest as your hearts beat as one. You slide a hand underneath his arm, steadying his hold and with a kiss to his shoulder blade, he pulls.

Thwack!

The recoil is slight as the sound reverberates with a sickening crunch. The Stag cries out but, before it can make a move to run, you’re passing Daemon your own crossbow and he sends another arrow straight through its neck with perfect precision.

There’s a beat of silence as the entire woods including yourselves come to a halt, your breaths the only sound that could be heard. It’s soon broken however, by your laughter, the sound building into something hysterical as you step away from Daemon. Catching Daemon’s attention, he turns to you, initially in concern, it doesn’t take long however for him to join you when he sees how delighted you are. Catching you by the back of your neck, Daemon pulls you into him, his mouth covering yours in a searing kiss which you happily return.

“Shall we claim our prize?” you break the kiss, foreheads pressed together.

Daemon nods, taking your hand into his and eagerly leading the way.

You hum happily beneath your breath, keeping a keen eye on him as the two of you get closer, watching and waiting, watching and waiting until finally- there’s a catch in his breath, footsteps faltering as his head tilts, bemused. You feel the way his hand twitches in your hold, grip loosening as he glances back at you, confused until- a sharp intake of breath and the realisation of not, what he has killed but, who.

You slip your hand from his hold as he chokes on a gasp at the sight of his mistress, his whore, the Lady Gwendolyn. She is covered in a layer of mud, her usual gown replaced with a dirty and ripped tunic and pants, a strip of cloth tied around her mouth and gagging her. One arrow shot through her chest, nailing her to the tree behind her and the second through her neck; on the floor beside her lies the head of a stag.

Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.

“What is this?” Daemon speaks in abject horror.

“The last one,” you tell him grimly.

Daemon continues to stare at Gwendolyn, dazed and not understanding what was happening as he watches blood drip from her wounds and onto her swelling belly.

“What have you done?”

“What have I done? What have you done?” you tut, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Do not fret, I granted her this small mercy, my last mercy,” you inform him, hand adjusting his collar. “A quick and clean death.”

Your words seems to bring him back to himself, horror and confusion short lived and replaced with a fury you had never seen before. It does naught to frighten you though.

“She was with child,” he turns on you, jaw impossibly tight as he spits the words at you; crowding you against a tree. “My child.”

“I know,” you tell him softly with a nod.

Your placidness unsettles him. You can see it in his eyes and the way he flinches at your touch when you brush his hair back from either side of his face.

“So heed this as my final warning for your betrayals. I won’t be so nice if there’s another one.”

Steadying yourself with a hand on his arm, you reach up and press a kiss to the side of his head, “happy name day, Daemon.”

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #hotd fanfic #matt smith x reader #matt smith fanfiction

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genderlessdude92 · 6 months

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GENTLE, PLEASE

PAIRING: Alastor x Wife!Reader SUMMARY: Y/N, like the nervous wreck she is, can’t stop spending her free time worrying over something that’s not even a big deal. Of course, one thing lead to another. (Thank you, Charlie, for letting them have the day off). WARNINGS: (SFW) Reader is female, Reader is hellborn, Reader is VERY anxious (alastor as well, but not too much), reader is sensitive obv, angel is angel, usage of y/n, established relationship cussing on both parts, Alastor owns readers soul. (NSFW) alastor’s pain kink shows a little bit, lingerie, reader is TIGHT, reader is also virgin but is registered adult!!!, mention of a safeword, p in v, slight orgasm denial, reader’s tears, soul-chain bondage, alastor knots. Mentions of pregnancy^^ idk if there’s angst in this that counts but both have a good ending so dw (LMK if i missed anything!!!!)

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

Alastor was a man of his word.

Y/N was sitting in her room, tired from her piece of vibrating plastic that brang her ‘pleasure’.

“You look gorgeous in your bliss, darling.”

Whenever Alastor rubbed her, ate her out, it made her feel real pleasure, though.

But, did he?

What was real pleasure?

“I’m too big for you, sweetheart, maybe another time.”

Another time.

Did he want another time?

“You’re almost like Charlie’s mother, Hah! We’d make great parents.”

The look he gave you.

Y/N felt so relieved after hearing Charlie was going up to heaven for a meeting just a moment ago, but now all of these stupid…that’s mean. All these overwhelming thoughts were plaguing her head.

She threw the piece of plastic across the room.

She had to give him something.

when was the last time you talked to him? when was the last time you crossed paths with your husband during work? when was the last time you cooked for him?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

22:10 PM

She couldn’t sleep.

Was she good enough?

Ugh.

She put on a flimsy oversized shirt she usually wears to bed, some polka-dot pajama shorts, and white, knee-high socks.

She didn’t bother to change her underwear garments from the night before.

Y/N looked around before heading out of her hotel room, in case anybody saw her, to Alastor’s room.

Y/N was so happy when Alastor ‘accidentally’ mapped her room next to his on one of the secluded floors when the hotel was being rebuilt. How happy she was, indeed.

Knock knock knock

Silence. but only for a moment before she heard and felt the soft familiar static come closer to the other side of the door.

“Come in, mon cher.” He greeted as he opened the door, stepping aside. His room looked neat and clean, unlike Y/N’s. mostly because there wasn’t much stuff…and he had a whole bayou, making the room bigger.

She nervously walked over the the edge of his bed and sat down, breathing in the smell of his familiar cologne.

“Whats keeping you up so late? you’re usually a slumbering baby at this time of night!” He chortled, sitting down next to her on the plush bed of his.

Fuck.

He was wearing silk pajama pants and a robe, but the robe was just barely tied tightly, exposing a majority of his chest. His monocle was placed elsewhere and his hair was slightly disheveled.

Crap, you woke him up didn’t you.

“…I don’t know.” You dumbass, wrong answer! she scolded at herself.

Alastor chuckled again, “Just missed me?” he asked.

That reminded Y/N of back then. When it was simple and new between them. Before they went to this hotel, decades ago when the two met. She would always go over to his manor in the middle of the night after roaming the streets and feeling lonely.

Ah, yes. Now i have to work for the princess.

“…Yeah…missed you.” Y/N forced a smile alongside that little white lie.

He sighed, “…Alright, what’s going on?” He placed a place on her tensed shoulder, rubbing it soothingly, gently.

Cornered. Y/N didn’t have a choice, “Do you…Do always mean it when…fuck- when you s-say you-um- want to have a child with me?” She said without breaking her eye contact to the floor.

You didn’t have to say it like that, fucking hell

Alastor’s movements froze. “…a…um…” His smiled turned strained, “-a spawn?”

Y/N teared up. there was no way she was getting out of this one.

She whimpered, “…sorry.” before her hands shot up to her face, Alastor grabbed her wrist-

“I would love to. Y-You know I am a man of my word…” Alastor confessed with a chuckle, “-But…only if you are comfortable with it, mon amour.” Alastor went to her eyes level to try and meet her eyes.

Y/N froze. Her tears stopped.

…Holy fuck.

Y/N looked at him, to search for any disapproving emotion in his eyes.

None.

“…I-I want to.” Y/N confessed back, “…too.”

Alastor’s smile softened, he pulled Y/N with ease into him lap, “I’m glad,” and immediately kissed her.

The kiss was soft, sensual, gentle, even. Alastor’s hands began to roam under her shirt once she opened her mouth for him.

Alastor broke away from the kiss for a moment, a string of saliva connecting to their lips, “Y/N…?” he tugged on her shirt.

Oh god, what do i say?

“…Is there something wrong?” Y/N silently panicked.

Alastor widened his eyes for a moment but then softened his demeanor, “You shirt. Can i take it off?” He kissed her lips once more.

Fucking idiot. A brain dead patient would’ve known what that meant.

“…Yes.” She smiled nervously as he broke the the kiss.

Alastor nodded before bunching the hem of her shirt in his claws, “arms up, dear.”

As Y/N put her arms up, letting him gently take off her shirt, Alastor noticed how she was…wearing lingerie.

The lingerie that she wore the night before.

see what i did there

As Y/N put her arms down, she noticed how Alastor was staring at her under garments…

That she didn’t change from last night.

Y/N squeaked and ripped the bra off her body, tossing it away and into the bayou.

Now you’re bra-less.

Y/N slowly look up at Alastor, afraid he was going to scold her for not caring about her hygiene and stuff like that.

Alastor had always scolded her for skipping certain chores to, ‘take the weight off Alastor and Nifty’s shoulders’ whether it be showers, making the bed…laundry.

Dirty landry.

Alastor sighed, “I love you, Y/N,” He laughed softly, “-my clumsy doe.” He finished the sentence with a lustful growl, his claws tickled down her spine, arching her back.

“…I…I love you, t-“ almost immediately, Y/N was pinned down into the center of the bed, Alastor lips crashing onto hers like a starved man.

Fuck yeah, it was hot.

Alastor began to knead his claws at her breasts, squishing them so.

he grinder himself to her clothed core, making her throb for his touch, some contact. It almost felt like all those other times.

…but…it didn’t feel right.

Alastor, after needing a breath of air, noticed the tiniest hint of this, and grown worried,

“Are you alright, dearest?” He checked in.

She was unsure. Yeah, she was in the mood…but she just felt nervous, and he felt so confident.

“…anything i could do?” Alastor questioned once more, still hovering over her, his antlers slightly sizing down.

Think, Y/N, you were fine before, what was he doing before…

“…can you um…be gentle?” She winced, thinking that she sounded like some kind of needy loser. Oh, lord-

“-Why…o-of course, mon cœur.” he reassured, rubbed his thumbs over her small, plush breasts because kissing her once again.

Nothing could have compared more to how satisfied Alastor felt when she moaned.

It wasn’t a pornographic moan either, it was…natural. needing, almost.

Once Alastor slipped his tongue into her awaiting mouth, he began to unwrap his robe, tossing it to the ground and leaving his chest bare for her.

She gasped, “Oh, Al…” before she could wrap her arms around his neck, she felt him tug at her loose shorts,

“May I, darling?~”

Y/N nodded like a frantic woman, lifting her bottom up so he could take off her shorts, awaiting to find her panties completely soaked.

He pushed her bottom down with ease, “Dear, you seem to be completely moist,” Alastor commenting with the low vibration of static in his voice, making Y/N blush frantically. “Tell me, what turn you on so much? Perhaps…” Alastor swiped a finger through her panties, making her yelp. He then brang it back up to his mouth and licked itc moaning softly, “…was it my switch in demeanor?”

Y/N clenched as the sight. Alastor scooted back and lowered herself to her pussy, licking her slowly through the cloth guarding her. When he got to the location of her pearl, he pushed his tongue down onto it, receiving a moan from the receiver.

But his tongue wasn’t enough at the moment.

She wanted more.

“N-no…please, Alastor…I want you.” Y/N pleaded. she was impatient, she couldn’t just sit there and go through what was the usual.

She needed more.

He growled. “Anything for you, ma lumière.” Like an inpatient man, he tapped the bottom of her butt, signaling her to raise it. She did so, and almost immediately did he swiped her panties off of her, resulting in a gasp from Y/N.

Alastor crawled over so his pelvis was just on top of her. standing straight on his knees.

Alastor unbuttoned his silk pajama pants, his hard cock springing free right out of his boxers.

Nothing could have prepared Y/N from how big it looked.

Estimating, it was probably 7.5 inches minimum, and have mercy on her-

It was seriously…thick.

She looked up at Alastor worried. Alastor noticed this and softened his expression,

“You’ll be okay. I’ll go slow for you.”

Y/N nodded, but it certainly didn’t make her feel any better. She was still clenching her womanhood as well, just slightly at the thought of how bad this might hurt.

Alastor sighed. “The safeword is…stop.” Alastor told her. Hopefully that would make her feel safer.

…she opened for him.

When Alastor looked down to examine her, he saw how each second she opened, her juices would stick to her pussy’s lips in strings.

His dick physically throbbed more.

After hooking her legs up and around her waist, he lowered his body down more so that his cock was in lined with her vagina.

Slowly, he rubbed his length up down down through her folds, collecting as much natural lube as he could for her pleasure.

-But the sounds definitely weren’t helping, making Y/N face glow a darker tint of red than before. So, she just zoned out to the rumble of Al’s static.

What snapped her out of her zoning, although, was the burning of her hole, hissing in discomfort.

“Shhh…” Alastor hushed, “Just let me put the tip in, then i’ll stop.” Alastor, still, waited for confirmation.

Fucking pussy, Y/N thought, can’t even take the tip?!-

“o-okay.” She grasped onto his shoulder for an anchor in the pain. I can get through this.

Alastor still gave her a moment before shoving the full tip in, making her wince in pain, squeezing his shoulder.

Alastor hushed her again, “relax for me, darling…” he lowered his mouth to her left nipple, softly suckling on the nub, and effort to ease the pain. As Y/N released more moans, bringing one of her hands up to rub the lonely breast.

After a moment to let her settle around him, he pulled away from her nipple with a pop, bringing her hand back up to his shoulder.

“Just relax for me…” Alastor suggested before closely pushing some more length into her. “You,” he groaned, “You’re doing so good for me…”

How is she so tight?

Tears began to form in Y/N’s waterline. Alastor looked up at the sight and pondered what he could do. After a few moments, he stopped until he was just halfway into her, he leaned down once more to place his lips on her tears, her forehead, and then her lips, whispering affirmations in the middle of each kiss.

…was this too slow?

Y/N couldn’t believe her thoughts.

She pulled away from his lips to speak, “A-Al…put it in…i’m ready…” she requested with desperation in her tone, “i need all of you…”

Alastor looked up at him to spot a lie in the process, “Are you sure, my love-“

“Alastor, fuck me.”

That made Alastor moan, which then turned into a growl as Alastor subconsciously grew into a slightly bigger form of himself, snapping his hips with force into her.

Y/N cried out, but silenced Alastor before he could say anything, “S-Start moving, Al, please…” She took one of her hands off a shoulder to rub her nub, moaning softly as the newly added pleasure mixed with him slowly bottom out before snapping back into her.

He repeated this motion for a moment before slowly picking up her pace, making her moans short between thrusts.

“A-Alastor, ngh…” She called for him, grasping onto his shoulder once again. She tried to pull him down for a kiss.

“Use your words, m…mon cher.” he breathed and he kept his euphoric pace.

“K-Kiss me…” Y/N pleaded through her moans.

Alastor quickly leaned down to peck her lips before breaking the quick kiss,

“I’m gonna fill you…” He quickened his pace, his form becoming more menacing as his antlers grew, “with my seed.” He finished his sentence by smashing his lips onto hers.

As Y/N’s legs began to slip, he quickly used his tendrils to press them to her chest,

Positioning her into a breeding press.

“Ah…A-Alastor…I’m gonna-ah!” Alastor changed his pace to a brutal, electrifying one.

Y/N didn’t even care if he were to be gentle, she just wanted that sweet relief of relea-

“You don’t cum until i say so, darling.” a green shackle on Y/N’s left ankle appeared as a warning. “Understood? Those are our rules of the bedroom.”

He wasn’t wrong there. Those were the rules. He never wanted to feel under-powered in the bedroom at all, so that included orgasm denial.

And Y/N was completely fine with it.

But how quick and hard he’s hitting that far spot in her walls?

Just made her feel like there was no control.

“Alastor, please…” Y/N let tears she didn’t know we’re building up fell.

Alastor hushed her comfortingly, “Sweetheart-fuck-sweetheart, y-you’re almost there…” Alastor could feel himself knot inside of her,

…He wasn’t even sure that he was knotting until Y/N’s moans turned into groans.

He swiped some tears off her cheeks, “Mon cœr, you’re r-ready to cum?” he shot one of his tendrils down to her pussy, rubbing it at a rapid pace. Alastor leaned down to whisper into her ear, the static in his voice now on mute, “cum for me, then.”

That’s when the coil snapped.

The same time when Alastor spilt him seed deep into her womb.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

23:04 PM

Y/N was exhausted.

“Darling, i need you to sit up for a moment.” Alastor demanded.

Y/N groaned like a toddler.

“…fine.” Alastor put down the glass of water onto the nightstand, taking one knee and placing it sorely onto the bed to get closer to her, his shadow helping to lift her butt up as he wiped extra semen off of her.

after a moment of him disappearing into the bathroom, he came back looking neat and ready for bed.

…with a genuine smile on his face as his eyes met your tired ones.

Alastor went to the other side on the bed, sighing as he felt the soft surface under him.

He scooted closer to Y/N to get her under the blankets, dramatic, he thought as Y/N made a whine of protest again from the movement.

Once everything felt to his liking, he laid down next to her. and pulled her close, nuzzling his cheek into her hair.

“…Hey…Al?”

“mhm?”

“…I love you…”

He softened his smile, chuckling light-heartedly,

“…I love you two, as well.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

BONUS ☆♪

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” Angel called from the other side of the lobby, walking over to Y/N, “Still up for that event thingy at the new bar? Heard that the sharks are blackl-“

Angel stared at the sight before him.

Y/N, laying on the couch with her legs slightly spread and a heating pad on the thighs.

“…Don’t-“

“Is it just me, or do i see you…a supposed to be virgin friend of mine…sore from a…” He examines the current position for a moment, walking around the couch to stand in front of her, “…breeding press position.”

Y/N stares at him like he’s her next target on a murder spree.

And which, he probably was.

“What? I’m and expert with this kind of stuff,” He pulls out his phone and sits next to you, “forget that I work for Valentino? Damn, how good was that sex?”

“Angel, if you want to keep the ability of having sex, be quiet.”

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: I felt rlly devious making this fic 😍 But all jokes aside, i rlly need some writing tips since this is literally my first fic ever 😭

-Lynn

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

Masterlist link

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor smut #alastor x wife reader #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin imagines #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you

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kissitbttr · 6 months

Text

pregnancy was never easy. if it was, fathers could do it.

and truly it was something that toji had learned throughout being married to you and seeing your belly swell with your baby girl. the constant mood swings, back pains, cravings and all. but toji is a wonderful husband. for that, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

anything you want, you get even if your midnight cravings hit. toji will still get up and get dressed before drive to the nearest store that has your favorite red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting.

but being pregnant also means that toji has gotten far more protective than usual. more staying by your side, more checking up on you through his phone, more hiring security cameras and guards to keep you safe. despite your protests, he still thinks it’s necessary.

“sweethea—what the heck?” toji grumbles, eyes almost popping out of his sockets to see you’re not beside him. eyes glancing left and right and that’s where the panic begins to seep into him. “fuck” he scrambles out of the bed, seeing the clock hits at two am,

“no, no, no—“ he feels bead of sweats racing on his temples before slipping on his shoes and a shirt over his head. thinking that something might have happened to you.

god, i can’t go through this. not again. not you. please, please, not you.

toji may not have been the most religious man that has ever walked on earth. but he will beg on his knees and plead to the man up above to never take you away from him,

and just as he about to grab a gun off his safe, he hears the refrigerator door shut downstairs. the sounds making him halt as he quick to whip his head to the source of it.

his eyebrows then furrowed, putting the weapon down carefully before stepping out of your shared room. sometimes he curses himself for buying a home far too big because now he feels like it’s an eternity coming down the stairs. but again, he bought it for you.

the living room lights are already turned off, the only dimmed light he could see is from the kitchen. not only that, but he could hear the metals clinking. so slowly, with ever so confusion written across his face, toji approaches slowly

and there you are ever in your glory, body draped in your favorite pink silky robe sitting on the floor with your back against the fridge. a plate of not one but two red velvet cake slice in your hand as the other forks your way through the delicious treat.

toji heaves out a breathe of relief, knowing that nothing had happened to you. and the noise is loud enough for you to stop chewing and look up. eyes widen at your husband’s figure standing only a few feet away,

“hi” your voice sounds small. almost like embarrassed because you feel like a kid who got caught stealing a cookie off the jar,

“sweetheart” the nickname falls from his mouth like he’s happy to see you after being a part for so long. “what are you doing?”

your mouth slowly begin to chew, a cute smile making its way as your eyes glinting with innocence that toji can’t deny but feel like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

“the baby is hungry” is the only thing you can muster to a response, like it’s an obvious thing. “she wants cake” you giggle quietly,

oh yes, he is definitely falling harder for you again

“the baby is—“ he sighs, hands coming up to rub his face up and down. not because he’s upset but rather amused. “she wanted red velvet cake?”

“mhmm!” you nod vigorously, taking another big bite of the dessert. “and cream cheese frosting!”

and for the first time in a while, toji laughs with his head shaking at the sight of his beautiful wife eating cake at two am. “she told you that?”

“yes! i heard her whisper to me before i go to bed ‘mama.. can we eat the cake? but wait until dada goes to sleep’ because she knows how dada doesn’t allow mama to eat cakes” you smile at him, doing your best of baby voice. licking the cream off the utensil,

toji is grinning so hard he feels like his cheeks are hurting, his eyes are full of love when he looks at you and the little girl you’re growing in there,

“well dada is just taking care of mama so she will be healthy. she needs veggies and whole foods” he takes another step closer, sliding next to you. his eyes never leaving yours, looking at you so lovingly by the way you eat. “i thought something happened to you.. i was panicking”

you pout, not wanting to cause anymore distress on him. “i’m sorry i shouldn’t have done that. but i couldn’t wake you up, you looked exhausted”

he frowns, bending his knees close to his chest. “you should’ve. i would gladly grab the cake for you hence you asked, baby” he leans forward and kiss your temple,

a grateful smile places on your lips, humming in a contentment at the feeling of his soft mouth on your skin. “hmm, i know—“ you cradle his cheek with your free palm, thumbing against his cheekbone and down to his scar.

he used to be so insecure about it until you made him not to be. giving so much praises and kisses about the scar that you think look so hot on him.

“want some?” you extend a spoonful of the cake towards his mouth, in which he opens almost immediately, biting onto the sweet goodness. “how lucky i am to have you, mr. y/l/n”

he laughs, wiping the walnut crumbs off the corner of his lips. “i should be the one saying that to you, doll”

maybe second chances do exist. and it’s a privilege for a person to earn one. toji may had done very questionable things in the past that would make a person think twice in befriending him, let alone married to him but change is real.

and the flaws are what makes it him. it’s one of the reason you are drawn to this beautiful man. because despite every negative seed he may have in him, he still tries. trying and trying to be the person you deserve and the father that your baby girl deserve.

it upsets you to no end knowing that everyone can’t see that. they just see him as a cold, reserved, selfish man who keeps himself closed from the world to see. they don’t see the tears he had shed almost every night for failing to be perfect, they don’t see him having a small banter with you because he wanted to take your last name, they don’t see the amount of times he locked himself in his room because of people talkinh, they don’t see him always rushing out of his office on fridays because he wants to get home before you do just so he can cook your favorite dish,

they don’t see all of that but toji doesn’t care. he doesn’t need their validation nor approval. he just needs yours.

because it’s you he always comes home to. you are his salvation. you are his peace. you are his dream came true.

you, you, you, you.

before you could protest, he presses his lips against yours and move his hand down to your bump,

“happy doesn’t even begin to describe how grateful i am to be your husband”

#lmao idk how it got from pregnancy cravings to angst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro fluff

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 month

Note

How about Aegon and twin sister after death of jaehaeryss he needs to ahve another heir but he doesn't want to have one with heleana. he wants you

Request: Aegon and twin sister being in love but he married Helaena instead and wants YOU to have his babiess and be the next conqueror

Warning: mention of pregnancy, mention of child death,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

After the murder of Jaehaerys, things changed inside the keep. Aegon enforced the security and diminished the number of people who were allowed inside Maegor's Holdfast. His family lived there, he didn't want a repeat of what happened to his little son. And he didn't let you, his darling twin sister, although capable of defending yourself, go anywhere without your sworn protector.

Aegon was in pain by the death of his little son, and he was hurting for Heleana who had to witness such a horrific act, but if these rat catchers would have come to your chambers, if they would have harmed you, Aegon would have gone completely mad.

There was nothing in the world that Aegon cared more about, loved more, than you. You were his other half, a part of him. You grew together in the same womb.

If you had married Aegon instead of Helaena, he would have had no difficulty performing his duties. You would possibly have many children by now. You were the right choice, his darling twin sister. You were the one he wanted to warm his bed at night. You were the one he wanted to stand beside when he would get crowned.

But your grandsire, Otto, didn’t allow the betrothal. He pressed to the King for Helaena, claiming she was more suitable and would balance his depravity. It was all bullshit. Otto wanted her on the throne because she was more malleable and manipulable than you. Unlike Helaena, you could see through his webs and plottings.

You were fresh out of your bath when you received a knock on your door. The hour was late, making you wonder who it could be. You tightened your robe, making sure it covered your body as modestly as it could, and allowed the servant to come in.

‘’What is it, Dyana?’’ you asked, hissing as your handmaiden brushed through a knot in your hair. Could she be more delicate?

She stepped in, dressed in her red dress and earth colored apron. ‘’The King is requesting your presence in his chamber, Princess.’’

You tried your best to conceal your confusion.

Tonight, per the small council’s request, Aegon was supposed to summon Helaena to his chamber and impregnate her with a new heir. Two moons had passed since he lost his heir…and another was needed. Aegon had informed you of the duty in the afternoon after meeting with his small council. He was not happy about it, preferring to bed you, but Helaena was the one he was wed to.

Ser Aeron followed you to the King’s chambers, taking place beside Aegon’s guard standing outside the door after you stepped inside, as they have been doing for the past two months. Assigning a sworn protector at your door wasn’t enough for Aegon, he also requested you sleep in his bed, refusing to close his eyes unless he could feel you next to him.

You stepped into the solar with careful steps and alert eyes, not wishing to walk in on your sister and Aegon having sex. You understood and respected that it was part of their duties, but you could not be a spectator.

‘’She’s not here,’’ Aegon’s voice echoed through the large space. He came into view, his breeches half unlaced and his tunic untucked. ‘’I sent Helaena back to her chambers.’’

That was fast, you couldn’t help but think.

‘’We didn’t fuck,’’ he said bluntly, pouring wine into a cup, then a second — for you.

‘’What do you mean?’’

Aegon handed you the other cup while taking a sip of his own. ‘’I didn’t put my cock in her cu—’’

You shot him a look, cutting him off. It was not what you meant. ‘’What of your royal duties? Your small council is demanding a new heir.’’

‘’I’ll give them one.’’ Aegon pulled you closer and pressed his palm over your empty stomach, right where a babe should grow. ‘’We’ll give them one.’’

The sincere look in his violet eyes told you he was not jesting. He would never jest about having children with you, he’s dreamed of it for so long. To see you beautiful and swollen with his babe.

Your mother would be furious. She knew of your and Aegon’s adventures behind closed doors and warned you about the consequences of not taking moon tea after he spilled his seed inside you. The shame it would bring upon the family.

‘’Aegon, we can’t—’’

‘’We can. I’m the King, I take the decisions now.’’ He caressed your stomach, imagining a babe inside. ‘’No more tea,’’ he murmured, pressing his forehead against you, repeating himself. ‘’No more moon tea.’’

‘’What of Helaena?’’ you asked, fighting the smile that was trying to curl on your lips.

Although Aegon didn’t share any romantic love for his younger sister — and neither did she —, to the eyes of the Sevens, she was still his wife.

His lips turned into a grin. ‘’The Conqueror had two wives. I wear his crown, don’t I? I can too.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist: @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13@cece05@laylasbunbunny@gemofthenight@beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #king aegon #house of the dragon #aegon ii x reader #hotd #hotd aegon

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allfearstofallto · 8 months

Text

A Once a Week Arrangement

Yandere! Childe x AFAB! Reader

Synopsis: Childe no longer wants to force you to be intimate with him, so you agree to it, but only once a week.

Word Count: 2.3k

TW: Yandere, Dub/Non-Con, Violence, NSFW, Smut, Oral, Forced Marriage, Manipulation, Unprotected Sex, Mentions of pregnancy/breeding

The way you kicked, bit, and screamed was a bit of a predicament. Your kitten-like punches did little in the way of actually hurting him, it felt more like feathers against his strong chest.

But he hated what he had to do to get you to behave for him, the welts and bruises he'd leave on your body hurt him more than they hurt you. And he hated the silent treatment you'd give him after your nights together. How you'd flinch away from his touch, nursing one of your swollen wrists.

“I don't like hurting you like this,” he'd say to you, his tone sincere, “but we've been married for a year and I do have needs.” As he said this he squeezed the fat of your thigh to add urgency to his words. And you let him. After the night you had, your will to fight was flickering out like a candle in the wind.

He took your lack of a response as a response itself and continued his little lecture, “So I thought, let's put things on a bit of a schedule. I get what I want and you get your well deserved rest. How does three times a week sound?”

“Once.” You spat back quickly. You wanted to say never or not at all, but you knew he wouldn't take that for an answer. Not the sex crazed maniac that was Childe who claimed to crave your body like a drug.

“Deal,” he replied with a smirk.

You should've known there was a catch with how quickly he agreed. And the catch was your submission.

The lingerie you wore was little more than a few stings and lace, something that he insisted that you wear, as it would make the night better and easier for the both of you. You felt your body prickle up with goosebumps as the cool air of his bedroom tickled your practically bare skin.

“I am truly blessed by the Tsaritsa,” he said this line like he was out of breath as he shut the door behind him. He slipped the robe off of his shoulders and left him in nothing, but his underwear.

His body was one you'd seen many times before when his urges took over. He was toned and firm, a rock hard stomach with a thin waist. Years of fighting left him littered with battle scars. All over his torso was burns, cuts, bruises, some looking worse than others, depending on how long it took to treat them.

You didn't want to look him in the eye, instead you stared out the window. You hated Snezhnaya, but when you had to admit, it had the best night sky. With little in the way of streetlights, the sky here looked like it was bursting with stars.

“None of that,” he gripped your face in one of his hands, squeezing your cheeks and making you look at him. At this angle, you were face to face with his erection. His thick, long, hard length was pitching a tent in his underwear, the tip of his aching cock was damp, practically dripping with precum, “It needs your attention.” Childe moaned as he pressed the leaking head against your cheek.

You scowled at the demeaning way he was toying with you, but based on what you agreed upon, you couldn't say no. It's just for one night, you had to tell yourself, and it was better than what he was doing before.

With little grace, you grabbed the hem of his underwear and ripped them down. His large cock sprung free, hitting his abdomen and continuing its insistent twitching. He held the back of your head, petting you like an animal and urging you to come closer.

“Your mouth first,” he began, his lips still on that stupid fucking proud smile.

Still sitting on the edge of your bed, you leaned forward and opened your mouth. He met you halfway and pressed his hips forward, pushing his dick into your mouth. His precum already began to coat his tongue, a salty taste that you could barely focus on as he'd already begun to thrust into your mouth.

You held his hips as you tried to match the pace of his thrusts with your mouth, but also keep him from pushing too far. Of course, he still tried it and with the hand that was on the back of your head, he pushed you all the way down to the base of his cock.

The tip of it hitting your throat made you gag immediately, but much to your dismay, he held you there with a strong grip. Your nose was nestled up against his orange bush of pubic hair, lips already began to secrete drool that dripped down your chin.

It felt like he was trying to kill you with it. The noises your poor throat was making could only be referred to as lewd with the way you gagged and choked on it. But even the glare you shot up at him with tear stained eyes didn't make him wish to stop, instead it only made him fuck hard, until he was using your hair as an anchor. Gripping the base of your scalp so hard, you were sure he was going to rip you bald, he made sure you didn't move a muscle as his hips moved back and forth, in and out of your mouth.

“Ah! Yes! Yes! Just like that, my angel,” his sickly sweet moans dripped off of his tongue, head thrown back in pleasure, while his hips seemed to not cease.

Your jaw was hurting and it was hard to breathe, every thrust made you gag, and most of all you hated the man doing this to you. All and all, you were miserable, but there was nothing you could do, other than let him fuck his twitching member into your mouth and hope that he'd stop stop.

Childe looked down on you, those deep blue eyes looked like they were glowing in the darkness of the room. He had a smirk on his face, an expression that you hated on him, it meant he was thinking of something in that sadistic mind of his.

“All over that pretty face,” he grunted to himself and before you could even register what he meant, his cock was pulled out of your mouth. Silver drool from the back of your throat connected your lips to his dick, a disgusting sight for you, but a turn on for him.

That drool of yours was used as lube as he began to hastily stroke his shaft. The noise was loud, as it was right by your face, you couldn't pull away if you wanted to, he still had a tight grip on your hair.

“Close your eyes. Now.” He ordered in a strangled grunt. And you did as you were told quickly, clenching your eyes shut.

You could hear him stroking himself just a little longer, before he began those familiar moans. Then you felt it. A hot liquid hitting your face. You grimaced knowing what he was doing, he loved showing his ownership of you and what better way to do it then to splurge rope after rope of his semen all over you.

Disgust was only the beginning of your feelings as you felt some of it land on your hair, your cheek, even on your eyelid and breasts.

He finally released the death grip he had on your hair, which prompted you to open your eyes. His dick was softening and his chest was rising and falling quickly as rose through the waves of his afterglow, but you knew better than to think he was done for the night. Oral was just an appetizer for him.

A finger was placed near your lips, his tired eyes watching you intently, “Open.” He directed you and begrudgingly, you did.

A little of his cum had landed on his hand, you recognized that familiar salty, bitter taste. He thrust that finger in and out of your mouth before pulling it away and stroking your cheek in a gesture that would be tender, if he wasn't the one doing it.

“On your back, legs spread,” his cock had already started twitching to life again. Apparently that forced, little show you'd put on with his finger was enough to get him started again.

Much to your dismay, he didn't just pull your panties to the side and start fucking into you, getting this over with as quickly as possible. He often complained that the sex wasn't passionate because of how hard you were fighting him off, but who would want passion from someone like him, someone you didn't even care for.

He started up top instead. Your heart was thumping in your chest as he climbed on top of you, placing both of your thighs on his hips, keeping your legs spread for him. You could feel his dick pressing against your thin panties, a sensation that made your stomach churn and knot.

He presses kisses against your neck and chest. His touch felt like fire on your skin, a disgusting feeling that you just had to allow. You hate to say it, but you preferred the way it was before. That way it would be over quickly. That way you didn't have to watch as he kissed and licked all over your body.

With a teasing hand, he slid the lace of your bra to the side, exposing your nipple to the air. His pink tongue wasted no time darting out of his mouth and lapping at the sensitive bud. You hated this the most, hated when he was making you feel good.

Your teeth were clenched together painfully as you tried to not moan from him. Tried to not enjoy the feeling of his cock grinding between your wet lips, pushing the fabric of your panties against your clit.

Another smirk from him and you knew you were in for something awful. He lifted up and grabbed his now hard dick in his hands, pushing your panties aside and rubbing the tip of his length up and down your slit.

“Ask me to put it in,” he said while pushing the tip against your hole, but not completely filling you. He'd do this over and over again, barely fucking you with the tip before pulling it out and doing it again.

You wanted to roll your eyes, wanted to spit in the face, to kick him and punch him, to fight him rather than asking him to fill you. Anything is better than the alternative, you told yourself.

“Just fuck me already, Ajax,” your grumbled, unable to force yourself to be submissive in the way you wanted him to be. But your brattiness seemed to make his eyes light up, his cock twitching even harder against your entrance.

He pushed into you hard, a sadistic grin on his face. You mewled out from the pain, he knew his length was larger and hard for you to take, but in this very moment, he didn't care. The way you defiantly asked for him was something he didn't think he'd enjoy and he wanted to fuck the attitude out of you.

His pace was brutal, but that was something you were here used to when it came to sleeping with him. How he fucked into you so hard, you tits would bounce and the sound of your skin slapping against each other would echo off the walls. Without your usual struggling, it felt completely different. You could feel each and every inch of him sliding across your walls that were growing slicker by the minute.

He was letting out those same tender moans while he pounded your cunt, fucking you just the way he wanted you. One of your legs was lifted up and he placed it on his toned, large shoulder, managing to thrust even deeper into you.

“This pussy is incredible,” he moaned while still fucking you into the mattress. He reached a hand down and made you look at him, “I'm close, my angel.”

Those words made a pit form in your stomach. The implications of him cumming inside not going past you. You turned your head away as he continued to pound you, based on the rules of your agreement, you couldn't say no to him for the duration of the night and Childe always mentioned how badly he wants to see you swollen with his children. That thought only made you more sick to your stomach.

He pumped inside you a few more times, sweat dripping down his forehead, before his hips start stuttering and his thrusts become sloppy. His pace slows down to a slow crawl and he lets out a guttural moan.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he whines while balls deep inside of you. He twitches and writhes with his eyes shut tightly drinking in every delicious inch of you, then pulls out quickly.

You gasp in surprise as he begins to shoot ropes of cum onto your body. His shot so far, so much, some of it even managed to hit your face again. He let out a sigh of content, then flopped down on the bed next to you, wrapping a territorial arm over your body.

“I was gonna cum inside you,” he admits with a cheeky grin, “but I want it to be just the two of us for a little while longer.”

You merely scoffed at his answer, rolling over so that you were faced away from him in bed. You just wanted to go to sleep and for the night to be over with, but much to your dismay, you felt a hand on your hip and his body grinding against you from behind.

“You must've forgotten the terms of our agreement. I've got you all night,”

#yandere genshin #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #childe x reader #yandere smut #childe smut #genshin smut #genshin childe #mdni

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targaryen-dynasty · 10 months

Text

SERENITY.

Part 2

Dad!Aemond Targaryen x wife!niece!Reader

With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a little bit longer.

WARNINGS: Canon typical incest/Targcest, fluff, female Reader (no mentions of appearance besides color of her eyes), mentions of difficult pregnancy and birth, soft dad!Aemond

WORDS: 1.1 K

“Hae mērot gierūli. Se hāros bartossi.” As one we gather. And with three heads.

The voice was a distant rumble. It held a familiar edge to it, yet your tiredness made it difficult to make out where it came from. The calmness of it made you want to sink further into the silk sheets, the soft sigh leaving your lips indicating that you were close to falling asleep again – until it settled that you heard voices in your chambers. In the midst of the night.

Reaching to your side to check for the man you had married three summers ago, you couldn't feel his body right where he was supposed to sleep, the vacant spot already cold, which suggested he had been gone for quite some time by now.

And if you had to guess, you’d say it was late into the Hour of the Owl already.

“Prūmȳsa sōvīli. Gevī dāerī.” We shall fly as we were destined. Beautifully, freely.

When your lilac eyes eventually opened, your marital chambers were only dimly illuminated, forcing them to adjust to the dark. Most candles had gone out, and not more than an ember glowed in the fireplace. The light of the moon, however, shone through the drapes hanging in front of the windows, highlighting their subtle movements in the gentle breeze, and the tall frame of your husband standing behind them.

A deep sigh escaped your throat, one that gathered the attention of your occupied husband. You hadn’t even been aware that you had held your breath, and quickly placed a hand on your chest to stop yourself from making any more sounds, not wanting to wake your babe.

“Ēdrugon, ābrazȳrys,” he hummed, though his voice was slightly muffled. Sleep, wife.

Leaning over the edge of the cot standing on your side of the bed, there were no distinct snoring sounds coming from the boy it belonged to, his little blanket missing as well. It merely was the reddish dragon egg sitting neatly in the corner, having yet to hatch. Your boy was nine moons old by now, and it became less and less likely it was going to hatch at all.

You rose from the bed, quietly, and pulled a thin robe over your shoulders, tying a knot in the front. Sidling toward Aemond, you soon spotted the small head of your son resting on his shoulder with your husband’s lips pressed gently against the side of the boy’s face. A warmth spread through your body at the sight, your heart fluttering.

“Emā naejot ēdrugon hae sȳrī,” you purred, cautious to not wake the sleeping babe in his arms. You have to sleep as well.

As you came up to him, you brushed your hand over Aemond’s back, resting at his waist, and craned your neck to meet his eye. His sapphire eye was gleaming in the soft light the moon casted upon you three, making him look as if he had been forged and created by the Seven.

Your lips pressed to his shoulder, and only then did you notice that he was bare-chested, prompting you to raise your eyebrows. Aemond slightly turned and reciprocated the gesture, oblivious to your surprise, though his lips pressed to your temple with him taking a deep breath of your scent.

He carefully shifted the hold on your son, supporting him with his right arm as he slid his other around your waist to pull you against him and meet your lips for a kiss that robbed you of your ability to breathe.

“He was not able to find rest,” Aemond rasped, words fanning over your lips. “He sleeps most peacefully in our arms than in the cot, you know.”

You nodded, and allowed your fingers to ghost along the crown of his head, caressing the tuft of silver hair your son possessed. Your eyes crinkled at the corners, your heart swelling at the realization that you two had created the very being Aemond just cradled in his arms.

Turning your head toward the window overlooking King’s Landing, you were in awe that the rawness and vulnerability of the moment even made the filthiest of cities seem peaceful and quiet, yet the true sight to behold was and always would be the prince standing right next to you.

Despite the rift parting your House into two, Aemond had always been a dutiful husband, taking care of you and protecting you just like he had vowed to do on the day you wed in the traditions of the Faith. Duty. It had never been more than that to him. But with your pregnancy taking a woeful turn, and the much more miserable birth following, something in him had changed.

His training with the sword could wait more often than not, if it meant for him to get the chance to bond with you, and, after the birth, your son. And knowing all too well that he prioritized full nights of sleep, moments like these made you even more aware of how much he had grown into his newfound responsibilities.

For all that the people of court found the prince to be cold or even cruel at times, he was nothing if not incredibly gentle with you and your son.

When you looked back at Aemond, you already found him staring at you with the striking lilac eye of his, an expression of deep affection written all over his features. The warm look in his eye made you feel weak in the knees, just like it always did.

With a soft smile on his lips, his hand trailed from your waist to your stomach, gently rubbing over the small bump that slowly started to blossom. His touch was tender, loving even.

“You deserve your rest more than ever with the child growing within you,” he noted, “return to bed and get some sleep, my love. I shall watch over him.”

You nodded as you watched Aemond’s head tilt forwards to look at the sleeping boy that was cradled in the crook of his arm. You were exhausted, but at the same time, a part of you wished to spend every moment you could with your little family.

A cheeky smile grazed your lips. “But what if I want to stay?”

His brows raised slightly as he regarded you, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I believe that we,” he nodded towards your son, “would not mind your company, provided you are not too tired.”

“Perhaps just for a few moments longer,” you replied softly to which he nodded in return.

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weixuldo · 2 months

Text

Baby Fever

Anakin x f!reader

This is based off of number 2 of this list :)- I havent really delved into kink writing s sorry if this isnt the best haha- think of the reader as a padme- type figure

After seeing you interact with a lost child- Anakin thinks it’s time you had your own baby to look after…

warnings: P in V, smex, ani has a mean breeding kink, multiple orgasms, mentiond of pregnancy

________________

Floods of invigorating politicians and citizens exited the large Coruscant city center after a successful senate meeting. You had just finished pitching a plan that would excel the economy while also protecting labor’s rights.

You smiled as you stood from your podium once the majority of the crowds had exited- the whole public eye thing was a bit new to you.

For the longest time you worked behind the scenes helping other politicians with similar goals; it wasn’t until a few months ago that you, yourself, were appointed as your district’s senator.

You fixed your dress as you exited your booth and headed for the dimly lit corridors of the massive building. Most of the clamor had moved outside into the city square so the halls were mostly empty.

As you turned the corner a small smile found its way onto your face once you saw a familiar figure leaning against a marble pillar. Unmistakable robes and lightsaber clipped to the man’s belt.

“I wasn’t aware Jedi had any interest in politics” you said with a smirk as the man snaked a gloved arm around you before you could pass.

He pressed his face into your hair as he hugged you tighter to his chest, “We don’t, but you know all of my interest belongs to you”.

You sighed as he pressed a passionate kiss to the column of your neck.

“Ani- not here” you almost whimpered.

He quickly twirled you around to face him before holding your face in his hands, “why not?” he asked with a charming smirk- “we should let them all know”.

He glanced out the large windows down at the crowds of excited civilians- from up here they looked no larger than ants running for a sugar jar.

“They all love you, so why can’t I?” Anakin asked with a pout.

You sweetly smiled before placing a tender kiss to his pretty lips, “you can, and you do- you know the ramifications Anakin, you know we ca-“.

Anakin cut you off with another deep kiss before releasing you and playfully slapping your ass.

“Yeah yeah, I know” he huffed, “but they don’t know that”.

You rolled your eyes at your lover’s childish desires before leading him out of the building.

To avoid the spotlight and attention of the crowds, you dawned a hooded cloak before exiting the center.

Anakin followed closely behind; a hand already on his saber just in case. Thankfully being in public with Anakin seemed normal to some degree because you had become such a public figure- Jedi were often tasked with protecting political officials.

So Anakin looked no different than a routine bodyguard.

The crowds were easier to navigate now that you had some practice under your belt. You had almost made it to your reserved speeder when you felt a small tug on the hem of your long dress.

You smiled once you realized the tugging was coming from a small child, probably no older than four.

She looked up at you with wonder as she mustered up the courage to speak to you.

“Senator?” She finally asked.

You nodded with a smile before turning to her. A wide grin settled onto her small face as she looked you up and down.

“Pretty” she giggled.

Anakin stood a few feet behind you, trying to see what was going on over the people standing in the way- he became anxious when you dipped from view.

The Jedi quickly weaved through the remaining people to see you crouched down speaking to a small child. His expression immediately softened as he watched you interact so sweetly with the girl; making exaggerated faces at the child’s comments, pointing out her cute accessories to make her giggle, picking her up to shield her from oncoming pedestrians-

Anakin never really thought about having kids- of course he wanted them someday; he wanted to create life with you and wanted to raise his children with a childhood he never got to have. But it never seemed like the right time.

The two of you had been careful when engaging in those activities to avoid an unexpected surprise when you still hadn’t quite figured out how to navigate your secret relationship.

But each time Anakin fucked you he got closer and closer to giving up on the unspoken rule; he got closer and closer to cumming deep inside of you without any intention of pulling out.

You knew Anakin was a passionate lover but you never considered that your sweet, respectful Jedi lover fantasized about locking you into a mating press while he fucked his children into your fertile womb.

Anakin had no timeline of when he wanted them, but he knew you’d make a great mother no matter how long (or short) he waited.

Though seeing you interact in real time just made him want the fantasy to spring to reality.

_________

“Hello sweetie, where are your parents?” You cooed at the small girl in your arms.

She giggled and shrugged, making you frown.

“Well that’s not good, they’re probably worried about you” you said, scanning the crowd for anyone who held any semblance to the tiny child in your arms.

She, on the other hand, had no interest in finding her guardians- instead she was focused on the shiny tinsel that had been put into your hair prior to your speech. Innocently, she flipped your hood off and began to touch your face as she admired your beauty in childlike wonder.

Before you could react, Anakin was by your side; he gently placed the cloak back over your head to protect you from interested onlookers.

“Ani! You came out of nowhere” you giggled lightheartedly as he guided you off to the side of the still buzzing city square.

“Who’s this?” He asked with a smile as the little girl in your arms hid her face in your shoulder.

“It’s ok baby, he’s a Jedi- he’s very strong and he’s here to protect us” you whispered to the little girl in your arms.

“Jedi?” her green eyes brightened as she became excited at the title.

She continued asking you questions but all Anakin could focus on was how beautiful you looked interacting with such a young child. How natural you looked.

Is this how you would interact with your own children? With his children?

He couldn't help but adjust his pants as he felt them becoming increasingly tighter.

Soon the overexcited child had fallen asleep in your comforting arms; shortly, you began cautiously walking around in hopes to find her parents. The jedi beside you watched as you subconsciously brushed the girl's hair and gently bounced her on your hip.

Before long you finally stumbled across two very worried adults calling for who you could only assume was fast asleep in your arms.

“Oh Maker! There she is!” the woman gasped as she reached for her baby.

The Man she was with breathed out a sigh of relief and quickly joined her as you handed her the sleeping child.

“Thank you so mu- Senator!” the man’s eyes widened once he realized who it was.

“We are so sorry to have troubled you- please forgive us for our carelessness” the woman bowed.

“No, no! It was no trouble at all- you have a beautiful daughter” you smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair away from the girl’s face.

“Thank you, thank you so much. We loved your speech- you are just what this city needs” the mother offered before turning to her husband.

You bowed and met the silent figure watching from the sidelines; “Sorry Ani, we can go now”.

Anakin just nodded silently and trailed you with an uncharacteristically dazed aura.

Once you were in your speeder, Anakin hopped in the driver’s seat and jetted off towards your apartment; his strong jaw clenched as he imagined you full with a child.

He flinched as you placed a tender hand on his tensed thigh, “Ani- are you alright?”.

________________________

A cacophony of moans and groans ricocheted off of the walls of your penthouse bedroom as your lover continuously plunged his cock in and out of your abused hole. He had been at it for two hours already and had already cum once (while you came thrice).

Once you entered your private apartment, all of his carefully crafted will-power snapped and he went feral; the natural urge to breed you, hit him like a bus.

He was all over you; your lips, neck, breasts, cunt- you were his and he was going to make damn sure it stayed that way.

“A-Ani! S-slow down!” you cried as he jetted his thick cock in and out of you.

“S-Sorry baby, C-can’t- I gotta- gotta fill you up” he winced as he fucked you through his own overstimulation.

His heavy balls slapped against your ass and a ring of foam from your combined juices formed at the base of his cock.

He already came inside of you once, what more could he want?

“Baby- t’s too much! You're-spilling all over”.

“N-no, not enough- gotta fuck a baby into you” he grunted against your bruised neck.

His confession had your eyes snapping open, “What?!”.

“Looked too damn good with that baby on your hip- I-I wanna see you with my child on your hip in-instead” he babbled as he pulled you flush against his chest and rutted his desperate hips into yours.

So that's what this was all about.

Admittedly you didn’t mind his desires, deep down you wanted the same thing… you wanted him to reach so deep that he fucked one into you on the spot.

“Oh Fuck Ani- I wan- I want your kids” you admitted ad you raked your long nails down his toned back.

“Shit babe- squeezing me so tight” he whined as he gripped onto your hips with a caging grasp (surely you would be bruised tomorrow).

He slammed his hips flush against yours with intense force as he felt the coil in his stomach begin to snap- this was it, this was the orgasm that was going to give you a child.

He just knew it.

“Ahh c-cumming! Gonna give y-you a child- Shit! i-i ‘m going to fuck my baby into you” he babbled as he felt his hot, thick, warm seed shoot out of his oversensitive tip into your gushing cunt as your own orgasm washed over your like a crest-fallen wave.

“Ani!” you cried as your legs began to shake from the overpowering climax mixed with your exhaustion.

You clawed onto him so hard that you swore you drew blood. Anakin, on the other hand, dove down and captured you into a tight embrace; his mechanical hand making you gasp at the sudden coolness.

His body shook with pleasure and overstimulation as he struggled to rut his hips into you to push the last bit of spend further into you with shaky breaths.

Once you came down from your high, you were so tired that you couldn’t even bother to ask Anakin to clean you up; you half expected him to fall asleep inside of you based on how tired he also looked.

“Gonna make you a mommy- you’ll look s-so good- so round with our child” Anakin mumbled into your neck before slowly turning over so that you were on top of him (his dick still inside).

You hummed in contempt before drifting to sleep as he gently brushed your hair with hsi flesh hand.

“The two of you should get some sleep now- I love you” Anakin whispered before drifting right after you.

You would have giggled at Anakin’s addition of “two” when speaking to you and your hypothetical baby, but as usual your lover was right.

The famed “Jedi perception” was affirmed 9 months later when you cradled not one, but two small bundles of joy. You sat on your couch as you fed your children and Anakin couldn't help but smirk at the scene before him, this is just what he wanted… he couldn’t wait till you could have another one.

***

(a/n: ngl im not crazy big on kids but breeding is hot 🤭🤭 hope this lived up to the idea on the list :0)

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sukunas-wife · 9 months

Note

I'ma need some more of that pregnant reader and sukuna... That kinda slapped do it again please and thank you🌹

Idk if you meant while pregnant or after Yuji was born but here’s some pregnancy moments 🥹 i tried 🤍

“RYOMEN SUKUNA” your voice cutting Uraume off and gaining an irked look from your husband, “what is wo-” he coughed looking away, Uraume turned to look at you closing their eyes trying to hide a snicker as they looked away and down. There you stood in almost your full glory, your robes open the belt just over your bump, your ladies in waiting running in after you, “Lady y/n! Please! You shouldn’t run around bare showing your belly! You’ll catch a cold!” Sukuna was amused but your glare was something he didn’t want to be on the receiving end for too long. It wouldn’t be the first time you kicked him out of HIS room and HIS bed.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“DO YOU NOT SEE THE PROBLEM?” Your snappy attitude would’ve usually rewards you with his own snappy attitude but he was trying his best to not snap at you while pregnant. “You’re round?” He asked as if it were obvious which caused you to tear up “you think I’m round?” ;-;

Hearing Uraume stifle their laugh, you watched your husband’s as he stood up pulling his robe belt free, throwing his outer robe over bus shoulder. Once he was close enough he took your face in two hands squishing it while the other two stripped you, “I don’t think your round, you are around, but you’re round with OUR child, and I don’t see what could be more comforting than knowing you carry the Proof of our intimacy.”

You looked up at him feeling his hands rest on your swollen belly, now covered by his white robes and belt, “My clothes doesn’t fit like it used to- then use my Robes all you want, ask your hand maids to make new clothes. Whatever you need it’s yours to take.” You smiled leaning your head against his palms enjoying how loose and large his robes were. He didn’t know he had basically signed away his freedom, his robes would now be your robes the more your belly swole.

He eyed you the first time you walked up to him with clean robes folded robes. He didn’t understand why you brought him new clothes? “I want your robes, they’re warm… and smell nice…” the heat on your face and expression of embarrassment made him chuckle as he pulled off his robes and belt before securing them over you, his warm hands and finger tips lingering over your neck, collar bone, wrists and hands when he’d fix the collar and sleeves. The warmth taking over you body as you basked in the warmth of his robes. The faint smell of his natural musk mixed in with woody smoke and the incense from the censors he had brought in ever since the months got colder and the physician saying you’d need to take it easier in bed rest now that you were closer to labor.

Yet you always persisted on looking for and hugging your husband just to place your cold hands on his chest or back. It was one of the few things that made him visibly cringe and shiver or freeze up entirely until your hands warmed up against his skin. Now that he thinks about it he spoiled you entirely in your first pregnancy during the day when you’d lay in bed staring at your stomach bump, cold under the thick blankets ribs shivering until you’d pout and call for your Lady in Waiting, she was a young lady who had grown from a young girl, acting sickly you’d tell her call for your husband, she’d smile laughing lightly “Yes Lady y/n, but I’ll do ny best to convince him it’s urgent.” You’d smile at her before she’d rush off, her shows would vary depending how she’d sense Sukuna’s stats of mind. If it were serious, annoyed or aggressive manor, she’d try to approach respectfully, head bowed explaining how you had sent her to retrieve him in urgency because your weren’t feeling well.

There would go Sukuna rushing to your side to find you shivering thinking you were sick without thought he’d placed his hands on you using his reverse cursed technique to heal you of whatever it could be. Only for you to guide his hand to your face still shivering, “Hold me… I’m cold.” He heart was racing thinking you were cold because you were gonna pass, he scooped you up, pressing you against his chest and dragging the heavy embroidered blanket to cover you more, “how are you feeling?”

He’d walked over to the fire place in the room, two of his arms under the blanket holding you close to him, your head on his chest and shoulder. The other two securing the blanket around you as he SAT ON THE GROUND INFRONT OF THE FIRE PLACE. Your hands coming out the blanket to pull his hand and rest it against your face, “I’m healthy, it’s just cold.” You looked helplessly up at him when he looked at you in disbelief, but you smiled and shook his head, “Scared the shit out of me woman!” You pinched your cheek and you whined, “I have an excellent lady in waiting, she needs higher reward.”

Sukuna scoffed, before resting his chin on your head, “Don’t expect this to become a regular request.”

It became a regular request, one he found himself to enjoy that he had Uraume bring something similar to a love seat for him to recline back on so he could lay you against his chest. It happened more than a few times when you’d fall asleep against his chest and he’d slowly fall into slumber after locking his arms around you. More than enough time Uraume and your ladies in waiting had walked in and giggled at the scene before waking Lord Sukuna to suggest moving to let you rest in the bed now that the sun had set and the room was warm.

The it changed when Yuji was born. There were days he eagerly pushed you off to hold his boy on his chest to keep him warm, of course you were jealous that was your husband :’)

I’m the end, your husband always tried to act indifferent and cold, but his heart was warmed by the love, affection and intimacy he had come to know when his fate had become intertwined with you and your son

🤍❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🤍

Forgot the Tag list 🫣 this is the “Squishy” Tags List as saved in my notes :’)

@sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @domainofmarie @satorisgirl

#sukuna ryomen #daddy sukuna #jjk anime #ryomen sukuna #sukuna thirst #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x wife reader #yuji and mom reader

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taeslarityy · 2 months

Text

dirty laundry ༄ dave york one shot (18+)

-> pairing: dark dave york x female reader

-> word count: 2.8k

-> summary: it’s a hot august week at the york’s lake house, which also happens to be the week you and your husband got married one year ago. your father in law — dave york — finds you changing in the laundry room and decides to give you a celebration of his own.

-> warnings/tags: father-in-law dave york, infidelity, dubcon, NON-CON, age gap (reader is 21, dave is nearing 50), SMUT 18+, heavy degradation(whore, slut, bitch), humiliation, dumbification, unprotected piv, sir kink, rough face-fucking, forced creampie, talk of pregnancy, reader is under the impression that she endures forced impregnation, hair pulling, slapping, spanking, semi naive reader, dave is not a cutesy nice man in this.. he honestly has no concern for readers feelings or pleasure. so please, if themes like dubious consent + non-con + blatant cheating are not ur forte, protect ur peace and scroll away!!

-> a/n: okay okay hiiiii. when i decided to participate in @hellishjoel ‘s #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i had a few ideas in mind. one happened to be this! but i felt more comfortable writing for joel and was confident in what i had planned. basically, this is opposite of that. no fluff or happy ending.. or even happy anything. so i wanted to share! thanks again kylee for letting me participate <3 and thank you to my beloved dearest @sweetpascal for aiding me yet again, i love u 🤍

let me know your thoughts!

DARK CONTENT BELOW: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

A huge part of growth, means acknowledging your mistakes.

When you failed your first semester of college, you knew it was from lack of trying and partying six days a week. So, you studied more and partied four days a week instead. When you slammed your brand new Mercedes into a flag pole, you knew it was from scrolling on Instagram which caused you to push accelerate rather than stop. So, you never went on your phone while driving again.

When you fell in love your sophomore year and decided to get married at twenty, you knew it was because you needed the well-off grad school bachelor, Daniel York. So, inadvertently, you settled. Now, a year later, you're sobbing in his family’s lake house bathroom because he somehow forgot that tonight was the eve of your wedding anniversary.

You feel like a complete and utter idiot. And for once in your life, you just might be. Staring at your reflection, you examine your appearance. You look effortlessly amazing today, after spending the day out on the boat. Hair, body and face all faintly sun-kissed. Your skin freshly shaved, legs and arms lathered in your favorite oil.

This was your final attempt to see if Daniel would stare at you with the same look of admiration he had so long ago. Your first attempt to ask him about starting your own family. Tonight was the night, and you were determined.

Briefly peeking out of the guest bathroom and down the hall, you decide you can rush into the laundry room only a few doors down. Everyone should seemly be downstairs, finishing up a game of Monopoly. You had the pleasure of winning two games in a row, pissing of the frightfully competitive York family. That’s when you decided to call it a night and head up to get ready for bed — bidding everyone a goodbye as you kissed your husband atop his head.

Wrapping your robe securely around your waist, you make your way towards the closed door and enter just as the dryer sings the most obnoxious 45 second tune that confirms the load is finished. Rich people shit, you mutter to yourself. Grabbing your bikini and sundress to hang up first, then laying out a sheer white silk sleeping dress with baby blue lace trim.

Looking back at the closed door, you conclude you should be fine to just throw it on before laying yourself out on your shared bed. Ready for your husband to see you so open and willing to be used by him. As your robe falls to your feet, a slight creek fills the silent space.

Whipping your head back and grabbing the nearest towel to cover yourself, you're met with an alluring glare from your husbands own dad. Your father-in-law, Dave York.

"Dave wha- what are you doing?" You question with a panic laced tone. Completely thrown off by the way he's leaning against the now locked door, hands in his wrinkle-free perfectly fitted black work slacks. His lack of response is louder than the faint trickle from the utility sink your bare-ass is pressed against.

Dave saunters over to you, his pristinely polished shoes clinking heavily with every step despite the minimal weight he's using. It's a commanding presence, shows how he doesn't have to storm over to establish authority. His handsome body towers over you and the faint hairs on your spine rapidly rise at the feeling of his warmth nearing your own naked body. Aside from the small washcloth that covers your crotch and arm across your heavy tits.

His veiny calloused wedding ring-wearing hand reaches next to you, finding the lace on your nightgown satisfyingly soft.

"Look at this, angel. Did you plan on wearing it for my inconsiderate son?" He remarks, looking into your wide eyes as his fingers continue to twist and feel at a piece of clothing that is filling you with an overbearing amount of embarrassment.

"I d- you weren't supposed to see that." The nervous confession brings a crooked grin to Dave's face.

"It's real pretty, just like you. Sexy even.... but I wouldn't waste my time putting something like this on for Daniel." Shaking his head at your frazzled state and utilizing that dismissive tone he does so well.

"W-why?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance at your innocent unknowing voice, Dave reaches a hand to slowly move your arm that's covering your plush chest. "Because, he left 10 minutes ago. Waved bye to me as I pulled into the driveway."

Now you're really fucking confused. Your husband never goes off without texting you to let you know, and why would he leave you alone at his parents home? Especially on the night prior to your anniversary.

"I don't understand. Did he tell you where he was going?" You probe at him, not processing the way his rough fingertips are skimming over your navel, up across your chest. Suddenly, you yelp as he pinches your pebbled nipple and grips under your adjacent perky breast. Your hand quickly grabs at his wrist, but he slaps it away — holding it at your waist.

"You really have nothing going on in that head of yours, huh? Just floating around being the perfect little wife for my son, is that right? Too stupid and blind to see that your husband cheats on you every living moment and only married you because you're nothing more than a sweet voice who’s gentle on the eyes." His painful out-of-pocket words paired with the twisting of your nipples has heavy tears brimming at your lashes. "Kind of him to make sure you're gentle on his old mans eyes too.... we always did share a type."

"Fuck you," you spit at him. You've never dared be rude to Dave, or anyone for that matter. But his condescending temper, sudden violations to your privacy paired with the already upsetting feelings you've been enduring today was a breaking point. As you rip your hand from his grasp prepared to rush out of the room, he grabs your throat in a vice grip. Landing a brutal smack on your cheek that causes your head to turn from the impact, just for him to use that same hand to yank your hair back to a straight position. Body now pressed against your own — you feel the washcloth protecting your femininity drop at your bare feet in terror.

"Hmm. Never heard you cuss before, sweetheart. Thought I taught my son to train his wife better than that."

A heavy tear streams down your now red swollen cheek, as you take in the hurtful message your father in law is clarifying. You're nothing but a piece of fuck meat, a trophy wife. But clearly not honored enough for your husband to use you. Humiliatingly, the way Dave's clothed body is up against your own, has your exposed cunt throbbing and leaking down your legs for him. You were good enough for Dave York, and that was an honor within itself.

"'M sorry," you murmur at the feel of his covered thigh spreading your leg and nudging into your soaked pussy.

Dave chuckles at your nearly cock drunk state, "haven't even touched you and your leaking on my dress pants. No wonder he keeps you around, you're just a perfect little slut willing to please."

"Y- yeaah," you sigh lightly humping his thigh, even though Dave didn't even ask a question. Something within you just wanted him to understand your body was his to use, despite both your sacred dedications to other partners. People so close to you. His son, your husband. Your mother-in-law, his wife.

He swiftly moves his thigh from between your legs, pinching your cheeks so they're puckered willing you to look at him with those glossed over doe-eyes he fucking leaks over. "Use that head and address me properly."

Your head swarms for a second, worried of his reaction to an incorrect title. Testing the waters, you whine, "yes, sir." The words muffled by the tight hold he has on your face.

With a sinister grin on his face, Dave pushes you down on the solid tile — hand still threaded through your hair to ensure your head movement is in his control.

"Look at that, your brain does work. Let's see about that mouth."

Yanking the zipper down, he pulls his semi-hard cock out and slaps it on your cheek, precum smearing slightly. As you eye his cock, you come to the realization that he's slightly bigger than his son at half mast, and you're gonna have to calm yourself to handle a monster like that.

"Are you gonna show me how good you take a cock down your throat? With those dick-sucking porn worthy lips?" Dave peers down at you. He has started to jerk himself to full length, his thumbs barely touching around his width.

"Yes, sir. I am."

The way your eyelids flutter up at him, so docile and unaware of just how vicious Dave intends to be on your needy body. It unlocks that fundamental primal male urge that he normally suppresses during sex.

"Open your mouth, bitch." As your tongue lolls out of your mouth obediently, a dribble of spit going down your chin to your neck to your tits gleams in the soft light. Dave grins as he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, touching at your sensitive uvula. You instantly attempt suppressing your rare gag reflex, body unprepared for his actions. "Nice job, knew you were meant to have your mouth filled."

Dave rips his fingers from you and smears the thick string of saliva across your face — slapping you across the face, rather gentle than before. As he grabs his cock and lines it up with your mouth, you inhale deeply. Seemly more aware of how Dave likes to be. Callous, straight-forward and dominant.

Before you can suck him into your mouth, Dave spits right on his cock — some of it landing on your moisturized lips — just to slam himself down your throat. Your eyes spring open looking up at him, polished hands gripping at his slack-covered thighs. You feel your left over slick on his right pant leg. The taste of his long day is heavy on your tongue as his balls nuzzle at your chin. You're overwhelmed with his scent. The hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose, stud piercing almost getting caught.

"Riiiight there, that's fucking it. What a real fucking whore."

Dave lets his head fall backwards, eyes on the ceiling as he feels you sputter around him, your spit dripping heavily down his balls and onto the tile between his legs. He's unsure on how long he looks upwards, until he feels the digging of your fingertips into him. When he looks down, your eyes are bulging — about to roll into the back of your skull. So he pulls off of you.

Your belligerent cough is almost too loud for comfort, so Dave jerks his cock and plops his full balls into your mouth. And like the eager girl you are, you suck them into your mouth. Licking at the seam between them, letting them bounce off of your tongue. You lick downwards, tonguing at his delicate perineum. That small but dirty act makes him groan loudly. Loud enough for someone on the second floor to hear.

Realizing he's getting too comfortable, he goes back to filling your mouth. Alternating between shallow fucking of the throat and just letting it bulge inside. His big hands wrapping around your neck to jerk himself through the thin hump of protruding skin.

When he hears the shrewd screech of his name from the mouth of his wife downstairs, he pulls out swiftly and yanks you up, hoisting your leg onto the counter. Prodding his cock head at your now unbelievably soaked entrance.

Your mind is hazy and disorientated concerning what's about to happen. You feel like you've barely had any time to process the fact that your father in law is treating you like a common street whore. So, when he pushes into you, a wailing shriek escapes you.

Dave slaps his heavy hand around your mouth from behind, pushing in balls deep but not before releasing a moan of his own.

"Better shut that mouth before I stuff something in there... good god. How is that cunt so damn tight? You're snug around me, guess you're not a slut after all. Tight pussy but loose throat, just how I like it."

Dave proceeds with his relentless thrusts into your aching cunt. You don't remember the last time you were filled so thoroughly. It makes you forget how fucked up this situation truthfully is.

As Dave's cock is slamming into your cervix over and over, you feel your lower stomach tightening. He feels it too. Dave has been holding in his orgasm since you first fell to your knees and gave him those fuck toy eyes. So before you can cum all over him, he grabs you by the neck from the front and puts your ear right by his mouth so he can relay his special message.

"My son told me you've been begging him for a baby... how sweet. You just wanna be a mama, huh? Or maybe, you think having one will fix your relationship. Just reminds me how stupid you are. If a kid could save a marriage, my wife and I would've been happy ever since she pushed that little shit out. But, I'm gonna make it even better for you, sweetheart...."

Dave pushes to the hilt as you cum around him, whimpering behind his hand. Eager to hear his words, simultaneously terrified.

"Gonna cum inside and get you pregnant myself."

You scream into his hand, trying to push him away from you, trying to get yourself away from his spearing cock. All your effort does is push him in deeper, your body going lax at how stuffed you are.

"Don't fight me, angel. Just take it..." You feel his warm cum spilling into you, your body quivering. "Good... so good. I already feel your body sucking up my cum.. eager for it. Eager to be round with your father in law's baby. What will it call me? Grand-dad?" He snickers into your ear as he releases your body. You just lay there, half your limp limbs hanging off the counter.

Dave watches his thick white liquid drip out of you, and down your inner thighs. He pats your ass and tucks himself back into his slacks.

"Don't worry too much. Daniel looks just like me, he'll never find out his kid is actually his half-sibling. That is unless you tell him. You want him to find out you were on your knees being a slut for his, daddy?" Dave questions you. You don't speak a word. Just staring at the piped detailing on the cupboard that holds all the scented detergents.

"Just go, please. So I can clean myself up." Those few begging words take the reminanets of your little energy.

Dave grabs your now wrinkly nightgown and robe, pulling you off the counter so you're forced to stand in front of him. Body spent, his finger prints have left slight indents on various parts of you that you're positive will bruise in the days to come. You realize now, there's no way your husband can see you uncovered for weeks.

"You're gonna put this slutty outfit on and walk your ass into his room, with my cum dripping down your legs. He's been waiting for you, sweetheart."

Your jaw drops at his demand. Disgusted yet your cunt clenches at the filth of it all.

"I thought you said he left?"

Dave just smiles at you like you're a mindless child. You almost fall to the floor in despair at the discovery of what a lying sick bastard Dave has revealed himself to be. You don't know what to do. You've caught yourself up in this twisted game and as of now, there's no way out.

So, you throw the soft lace over your head and run your fingers through your hair attempting to fix your appearance. As you unlock the door, Dave places a gentle hand on your waist and kisses the top of your head. You hear him inhale your scent before he pushes you out of the door and watches you meander to his son's room, a slight limp in your legs.

You look at him, distain on your face as you open the door to find your husband scrolling on his phone. With an arrogant look spread across his face — "Where have you been?"

Dave hears the click of the door lock setting in place. As he walks towards the stairwell, he can't help but laugh at the memory of his vasectomy he received many years ago.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

#hotdilfsummerchallenge #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york x you #dave york smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york x f!reader #equalizer 2 #pedro pascal fanfiction

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