#tw: threat of pregnancy loss

[fallfromgrace-cas]

I've been having some funky dreams and my spouse said I should start journaling them since parts are recurring, so here we go.

TW: mentions of suicidal thoughts/actions, depressive thoughts, and threat of pregnancy loss but only briefly!

I'm pregnant currently and I know that can cause vivid dreams (this isn't my first pregnancy.) But my dream involved the cast of Superstore, but it was set in space on a space ship. Amy was the ship captain and everyone else (main cast) was there, too.

The first part of the dream involved me and other folks remodeling the commissary to be les chaotic and cleaned up and I remember really focusing on cleaning the kids corner (even though I saw so children in this dream). We were all very proud once we were done.

Then there was a big speech in this huge auditorium setting where Amy and everyone sorta decided to do what they wanted as they have been micromanaged for too long, so as per usual in the show, things go of the rails pretty quickly. People were not following safety protocols and they launched indoor fireworks and pyrotechnics for this beauty pageant that was going on and one of the fuzzy sounndproof thingies caught fire, so Amy, someone else, and I worked together to try and wrangle the people and put out the fire. The work took a toll on Amy and she grabbed her briefcase and walked up this huge wooden staircase like in the movie, Titanic.

Now the perspective of the dream shifted to where I was now Amy. I heard people whispering and mentioning that I looked awful and some woman said "it's her awful mental health." I remember feeling really bummed as Amy and really depressed. I kept walking up the stairs and Jonah from Superstore was following close behind because he knew something was off. I/Amy made it up to the top of the stairs and I just jumped off this very tall stairs. Jonah grabbed my hand right as I was beginning to fall, but we both fell. I remember feeling the weight of Jonah's hand and the weightlessness you feel when you're falling. Then as I/we hit the ground, her perspective went black.

Then it shifted back to my perspective. I ran up from the back of the shop to the middle by the stairs and saw the commotion. Amy was not there, but Jonah was. I asked him what happened and he was banged up and his face was stricken with tears and I remember looking into his glassy, red, tear-filled eyes where he said that Amy jumped and "killed her baby."

Note: this along with the jump are what stuck with me the most and I've been thinking about it all day. :(

We saw an ambulance arrive to pick up Amy as she survived her jump and it seemed that the baby was okay! But as this was happening, the dream shifted to a weird burglary/heist sorta thing where a group of 4 space pirates decided to rob the ship and try to steal Amy's suitcase because it had all the ship's confidential and financial info in it. But myself along with a kitchen chef Home Aloned these pirates and saved our information, so yay! And Amy made a full recovery while also now speaking Spanish and English? That's how everyone knew she was okay?

THEN the dream made an even more dramatic shift and ended with Amy and Jonah getting married and all of us having to do a Superstore college test, but Amy came back in her wedding dress and all after leaving the reception saying that we didn't have to do the test and we could go home.

Then my toddler woke me up for the day. HOW BONKERS IS THIS? What in the world is bothering me?

[cultofdixon]

Secrets kept for another’s safety, until you lose it

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Some Saviors just can’t let go and go for what’s important to Daryl Dixon. But little did he know about more than losing his partner. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Injuries / Anxiety Attacks / Blood loss

Requested by: Anon

Just because the Saviors War is over, doesn’t mean it’s completely dealt with. People have their vendettas and everyone will forever be scarred by the actions of Negan, apart of the Saviors or not.

When Negan was taken to prison instead of hell, the group decided that it would be best to have shifts of their people to watch The Sanctuary until they’ve fixed everything. Or until they put someone in there for a more permanent position.

After a month in and it was Daryl and Y/N’s turn to watch the place. Both having their own imprisonment to the place because of Negan. So they weren’t all too happy to be back. But the night gave them time to themselves.

Which led them on the roof this night…

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Daryl asks, putting the joint back to his lips watching Y/N finish putting up the last of their clothes on the clothesline. “You haven’t talked in a bit”

“Am I really that talkative?” She laughs softly, tossing the extra pins in the empty laundry basket. “I’m just enjoying the night with my husband. What else more could I ask for?”

“Could go dark on yea and say for Negan to be dead”

“Well you’re not the only one wanting that” Y/N sat on the stool while Daryl laid on a mattress they had brought up there. Neither of them want to live inside the walls anymore. “Can we just think toward the future?”

“We can” Daryl pushed himself to sit up, offering the joint to her as she shook her head. He stared a bit confused before shrugging it off. “Again, sunshine…what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

Y/N fell silent once more before looking out toward the woods trying to find a good start to what she wants to talk about.

“You remember when you first held Judith?”

“Lil’ Ass kicker, yeah?”

“Do you remember what you told me afterward? When you handed her off to Hershel?”

The confused look on his face gave her answer.

“You said I don’t think I’d be cut out for this if I were Rick.”

“Why are yea bringing that up now? Are you—-“

“No!…No…” Y/N visibly slumped. “It’s just. The threat is gone. We have a home that is ours. Walls to protect us from the dead…we could. Do it. Have a child. Have that future…”

Give Daryl some credit when he has thought about this before. Having a child with his wife…all of their love put into a single human being. But all the anxieties that came with that thought flooded his mind.

“I don’t wanna lose you like Rick lost Lori” For something that happened years ago, it still haunted him. Especially with the scares they’ve had before a true moment of peace came.

“Daryl…that…that was going to happen to Lori regardless…she had a c-section with Carl, any baby after that was bound to come out the same way. This would be a first for me. We could prevent the possibility of needing a c-section”

“But there’s still a chance. I…” Daryl stopped himself to avoid her eyes and hang his head not ever wanting to think about that possibility. But then again…what was he going to do? “I just can’t” he whispers which led Y/N to bring herself to his level and coax his gaze back onto her. “I can’t lose you…I…I’ve lost enough and everything about how I’d be a terrible father aside I won’t be able to raise our child alone if I lost you…I will always need you”

As much as it broke Y/N’s heart to know his feelings and to have to push aside hers because the last thing she would want is to lose or hurt her husband…the tears fell from her eyes as she presses her forehead against his.

“Okay. Okay…You won’t lose me. Ever. I’m here…just me” Y/N brought her arms around his shoulders bringing her face into the crook of his neck as Daryl wrapped his arms tightly around her holding her close.

The things you do for love will always be something…that will always be changing

About four months later…

Y/N finally emerges from the basement living she and Daryl live in under the Grimes’s residence. She gave a smile to Michonne who said “good morning” in her arrival watching her friend join her and Judith at the kitchen island.

“Think you can handle breakfast?”

“Yes, I think I finally got over that ill spell” Y/N took a seat at one of the barstools smiling to Judith beside her before drawing her attention to the quick footsteps making their descend down the stairs.

“Hey! You’re up here, how yea feeling? Yknow Daryl—-“

“Has been having you ask every day since I came back from the Sanctuary not feeling well. I’m doing okay. Better than before”

“Great to hear that, I’ll tell Daryl in person when I make my rounds to the other communities” Rick smiles approaching Judith who was happy to see her dad. “First thing, take this little one to the teacher to watch her while we’re all out”

Michonne gave Y/N a confused look as she tiredly turned to her lifting her head from her hand.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry. So I don’t feel entirely useless”

“You’re allowed to take it easy” Michonne was stern with her words which brought the confusion out of Rick’s expression while he picked up Judith heading toward the door.

“I think I’ll be fine” Y/N shot a stern look at her friend as Michonne instantly waited for the front door to close, ultimately for Rick to leave. “The baby will be fine”

“Y/N, when are you going to tell Daryl so this doesn’t have been a secret between you and I? You’ve mentioned about a conversation you had with him that doesn’t quite add up to the fact that you didn’t——“

“He doesn’t want to have a baby.” Y/N frowns forming fists as she had the habit of digging her nails into her flesh to avoid the crying. “He doesn’t want to have a baby with him and I promised I wouldn’t. But I still got knocked up. Now he’s going to lose me or I’m going to lose him” the tears came anyway as the frustration was obvious in the discomfort in her face which led Michonne to maneuver around the island to bring herself beside her friend letting her rest her head on her shoulder as her arms caged her. “All I wanted was a family with the man that I love but the factors of being good enough or dying unexpectedly just floods that man’s mind and hell I can’t blame him for any of it. But now I’m plagued with it while I carry his child”

The two didn’t hear the click of the door finally closing. All that mattered was Michonne comforting her friend until it was time for the day to get started.

“I’ll be helping Gabriel rebuild his chapel with a few Saviors we have taken in for rehabilitation to show they can do something good. We are thinking of making it also the leading to the farm” Michonne stated as she walked Y/N to the pantry. “So I will be around if you need me. I’ll also keep an eye on the saviors. I know what some of them have been saying but we haven’t come across one angry with Rick or Daryl or literally any one of us”

“Are you really trying to say you’re watching out for my safety when I’m gonna be confined to a chair and a notepad for the most part”

“Yes, yes I am. Plus…the infirmary is right next door and I know Siddiq is doing his inventory and preparing shipment of medical supplies we’ve found on the runs we had recently.”

“Michonne”

“Yes?”

“You’re rambling” Y/N laughs opening the door to let herself in. “I’ll holler if I need anything” she says halfway inside when Michonne quickly reminded her about the no heavy lifting which got a scoff out of the woman.

About an hour or two has passed and Y/N groans out of boredom while sitting on the stool in the pantry. She stared out the window watching people walk passed or the few groups carrying wood and metal around for the walls and new buildings. Inventory was done, restock of what they have was done, and she was about to get started on the shipment for the Kingdom when she heard the door open.

“Michonne I really don’t need you watching—-“ Y/N stopped speaking when she watched the unfamiliar man step in quietly, assessing the environment. “Uhm. Can I help you with anything?”

“I was told by that scary priest that we hold the extra building supplies in here on occasion when the shed ain’t organized” He stepped around the pantry looking for himself before looking at Y/N as she couldn’t shake this familiar feeling. “You’ve got nails? Maybe a better hammer than this shit?” The hammer she didn’t notice before only confused her on where he pulled it out from. But asides from that, Y/N got off the chair and went to grab such for him.

“How’s the construction going?”

“It’s going. That Rick guy has us doing a lot just has his woman bossing us around” He scoffs looking at the jarred goods they have while Y/N knelt down to carefully go through a box for a smaller box of nails. “How can you even do what Rick asks y’all to do?”

“Have you even met Rick? He does the right thing, most of the time” Keeping Negan alive was the wrong one.

As Y/N rose to her feet with the box of nails she watched the man pull off the Polaroids that were stuck to the window. Just for a better look but it made her uneasy thinking he was going to get rid of them.

“Family?” He questions lifting up the ones with Glenn and Maggie, watching Y/N nod as he fixated on one with her and Daryl before putting them back. “Find’em?”

“Yeah, here” She handed off the box hearing him thank her before stepping out. But before she could even straighten out the pictures and take a seat, Y/N didn’t hear the door close entirely.

It didn’t take long for what to happen, happen.

The second she rounded the corner…Y/N flinched slightly being up close to the man without a name. She looked down to find a few nails shoved deep into her side. The shock made the pain not come right away and she was still experiencing it while he drove them to the point he couldn’t.

“You are just as dumb as you were back when you were his wife.” He glares into the deep pits of her soul as Y/N lifted her head from watching the blood spill from her side. Her mind racing to one thing. “Rick shoulda killed him. Your bitch dog of a man shoulda killed him. Maybe even the sword lady. Anybody. Then you all would’ve been seen as stronger instead of weak ass beings.”

“I-…I—-“ Y/N felt the tears spill and he grabbed her face to make her force eye contact.

“Let me take you away from everybody and I’ll watch them suffer” then the man quickly removed his hand when he heard voices outside. He pushed her aside but the blood loss led it to be a bit more dramatic as she fell to her knees.

As he made his escape through the back, Y/N slumped against the wall hesitant to touch her side. But they weren’t in prime condition, they could have some traces of rust and she can’t afford an infection if she wants any chance of that surviving.

A few were hard to pull out and one was embedded deep that Y/N contemplated letting it stay in but she was already this far.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

…

Daryl… Y/N sobbed as she used her knife to cut into her to pull out the last nail that was embedded deep. She had to stop the bleeding so she could go get help and knew she had towels in the other room out of the foyer. But the blood loss was too much that when her weak body crawled about halfway there, it gave out.

“Daryl”

“I know this shithole sucks but yea said you’d be here earlier” Daryl clearly was in a mood while working on his bike, and with Rick only crossing his arms with an annoyed expression after his words. He knew he shouldn’t have expressed all of that. “Sorry. I’m frustrated.”

“Did something happen?”

“No…” Daryl frowns fiddling with a tool in hand. “Y/N hasn’t radio’d me today. Michonne was gonna give hers to my girl so I can check up on her but nothin’”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for that. Plus I’ve got uh…an update of my own regarding your wife” Now he had to be careful. He did hear everything in the kitchen that morning but Rick isn’t the best at de-escalating the situation.

But it felt like fate for him to be interrupted by his radio in that exact moment.

“Rick—-Are you with Daryl?”

“Gabriel? Yes, why?”

“Michonne—-Hilltop” his end was cutting out and the urgency only stressed the retired sheriff and huntsman. “Bleeding—-Stopped—-Other reasons—-Y/N”

“Gabriel. Who’s injured?!” Rick shouts annoyed as the silence grew for a moment.

“Y/N was found bleeding—-Attacked—-Go to Hilltop”

“Load up. Forget the bike” Rick stated even though the second Daryl heard it was confirmed to be Y/N, he went right into the driver’s seat of Rick’s truck. Rick quickly got in the passengers and didn’t wait another minute to tell Daryl.

The accident happened a few hours ago before Gabriel radio’d Rick. He only comm’d him as per request from Michonne to update him and to get Daryl on their current actions of getting Y/N to the Hilltop. For their ultrasound machine. The one from the Sanctuary got moved to the Kingdom to be repaired by a retired technician.

Y/N sat up in bed in the medical trailer not liking the feeling of the IV in her arm and the antibiotics Siddiq had her on. Made the sick feeling return and the nausea meds never worked on her.

“Daryl is on his way” Michonne frowns sitting in the chair beside her as Maggie sat at the edge of the bed with her hand rested on her calf. Both being protective of her in her current state.

“I didn’t get a name of the guy…”

“Hun we don’t have to do that now” Maggie assured her. “Aaron and Rosita are looking for the guy back home with the description you gave before they moved you here. We don’t have to talk about it at all and focus on you staying alive and healthy”

The tears returned as Y/N pulled her hand away so she could hide her face in them. As she sobbed she didn’t hear the sound outside of 1. The car stopping in front of the trailer. 2. Daryl shouting at a few people. And 3. The sound of a Hilltop resident screaming after Daryl shoved them out of his way to get inside the trailer. The second the door opened and his worry expelled from him, Michonne and Maggie got up from their spots moving so he could get close to his wife.

Michonne motioned for Maggie to leave with her as she instantly went to Rick to talk about the guy that attacked Y/N.

Daryl instantly wrapped his arms around her feeling her grab fists full of his vest, making him want to squeeze her but he instantly pulled away when she winced. He started to check her person himself even if Siddiq does a great job with his assessment after dealing with the main problem. He even checked her bandages watching the discomfort grow on her face along with a few tears still falling.

“Are you okay? What did that bastard do to yea? Is the peanut okay?”

“What?”

“Is the baby okay?” Daryl’s voice cracked when asking that question as it only made Y/N cry even more giving him mixed signals.

Someone told him she thought and as much as that brought relief, it brought a lot of regret and pain that she didn’t tell him herself.

As she pulls from his touch, Daryl watches her reach for the table beside the bed grabbing a piece of paper before returning and giving it to him. He carefully took it into his hands looking at the picture of the peanut that was very much still there. He exhales relieved, feeling his own tears spill and the softness of her hands gently wipe them away.

“I’m sorry—-“

“No.” Daryl cut her off setting the photo in her lap so he could take her hands into his. “I…I shouldn’t have said what I said months ago…I didn’t want to push you away ever if this were to happen. Cuz let’s be honest with ourselves, we fuck like bunnies. It was bound to happen” he broke out in a smile listening to Y/N laugh to his words. He planted a kiss on her cheek as she kept that smile of hers. “We…we can die to anythin’ and that shouldn’t stop us from living.”

“Daryl…”

“Let’s go home, sunshine. Let me protect the both of yea”

Daryl helped Y/N get in the car before approaching the small group that was fixated on the woman.

“There’s a lead”

“You know I’m not gonna hesitate to kill that guy” Daryl stated and instead of receiving the usual Rick talk about no need to go far he was genuinely confused. “What”

“I’m going to help you get the son of a bitch. He does want to take us out because of Negan”

“You’re willing to be bait?”

“If Rick gets hurt, your ass is next” Michonne threats with a smile before joining Y/N in the car giving them a bit more time to discuss then joining their partners.

The day progresses into the night and Daryl found the right moment to slip away from his spot beside his wife so he could leave the house to take care of business.

As the man climbs over the wall after hiding out until night, he stumbled on his landing and when he straightened up he was face to face with Rick.

“Seriously. Just let me go”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen”

“Like you of all people will pull the trigger” He scoffs, making the mistake of reaching for his weapon because that led to a bolt piercing him in the side of the skull.

Rick watches the body fall limp to the floor before turning to Daryl emerging from the shadows.

“There’s gonna be more like him” Rick stated. “We won’t kill them all”

“Anybody, and I fucking mean anybody…who comes near my pregnant wife the way that guy did? Will meet the same fate”

And on that note, he returned back to his spot beside Y/N who instantly rolled over to face him and bring herself close.

[aphroditelovesu]

Hello, can you do a headcannon Yandere (father) King Henry and Yandere (mother) Anna Boleyn with their only surviving son?

❝ 👑 — lady l: I really like the idea of ​​them being platonic yanderes for a son, so I hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes and good reading! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotection, mention of miscarriages, murder and implied cheating and toxic relationships.

❝👑pairing: platonic yandere!henry viii/anne boleyn x son!reader.

Anne was desperate to conceive a male heir, her only hope of staying alive and maintaining the interest of the King who, after some miscarriages and the birth of a daughter, has already began to wander towards one of her ladies-in-waiting.

So when she discovered a new pregnancy, she desperately prayed for a son and that she wouldn't suffer another miscarriage. She could not bear the loss and pain. Henry was pleased with the new pregnancy, but worried. Anne had already had several miscarriages and was only able to produce one healthy child, a daughter.

Anne took great care of herself during her pregnancy, taking care of what she ate and drank and trying to maintain good health. The first few months were the most tense, with fear enveloping both Anne and Henry. As the pregnancy progressed and there was no miscarriage, Anne became more confident.

When the day finally arrived to give birth, she was anxious. Henry was also anxious and he was so nervous when he heard Anne screaming outside the room, he didn't know what to think. When a baby's cries finally came after what seemed like hours, he entered the room.

Anne held her baby on her lap and cried softly and when a doctor approached Henry and said, "Congratulations, Your Majesty. You have an heir", it was the first time that Henry felt complete happiness. When he picked you up, he was smiling from ear to ear. Not only were you the much-desired male heir but you also saved your mother's head.

Both of them would be extremely overprotective of their only son and those close to you will be scrutinized. Henry has become very paranoid about your safety and takes every precaution possible.

You are always by your mother or father's side, you cannot be alone at any time with a stranger. Anne, especially, would like to keep you sewn to her side all the time. She cares about you a lot and is always checking up on you. When you get sick, she becomes paranoid that you will die.

You are your parents' greatest pride and Henry doesn't try to hide it. He neglects all his other children and gives you all his love and affection. He takes you for walks, hunting and spoils you with all the perks that a future King deserves. In addition to showing you off before the Court. After all, you are the future King.

They are both very proud of anything you do. Any milestone, no matter how small, will be applauded by them. Your first words, the first time you walked and everything else will be treated with great celebration. Expensive parties are thrown in your honor all the time.

As you grow up, they become even more overprotective and controlling. Anne does not want you to leave the Court under any circumstances and Henry allows you to do so, but only with many guards. There were many threats lurking and they couldn't let anything happen to you. May God forbid anything from happening to you as the results will be disastrous.

Anne hates it when you spend time with other people, especially if they are women. The only women you need in your life are your mother and your older sister, Elizabeth. Although she understands that's a part of a man's life, she still doesn't like it and any potential mistress or love interest will be dealt with quickly. She is your mother, so no one has more right to you than her.

Henry is more than aware of his wife's actions and although he doesn't encourage them, he doesn't reprimand her. In fact, he's probably the one who encourages you to enjoy your life even if it always leads to fights with Anne. It was worth it when you looked happy. And your happiness is very important to him.

Your potential friends will be scrutinized and if your parents don't like them, they will leave. Henry and Anne won't sentence them to death at first, but if you or they are stubborn, they will be tried for treason. Don't you understand that you shouldn't trust anyone other than your own family? Your parents are the only ones who want the best for you.

Henry and Anne are smothering and protective parents but they only have your best interests at heart. They want you to live a full and happy life, but with them by your side. You were everything they both wanted and they would be damned if they let anything happen to you. England still does not know the fury of its monarchs nor the overwhelming love they feel for their only son.

[honestsycrets]

miguel o'hara masterlist

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Amor y Respeto

➳ discontinued || miguel o'hara x reader, platonic!hobie x reader || tw: explicit, jealousy, fbs, mention of wounds. 

❝ the moment you want a sign of love from Miguel is the moment that your relationship is fucked. ❞

Starved | Mío

➳ oneshot || papi!miguel o'hara x mami!reader || tw: explicit, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing.

❝ peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just… adjusting to less time with his wife. ❞

❝ mío: after baby sitting mayday, miguel develops a serious case of baby fever and longs for a family of his own.  ❞

Stung

➳ oneshot || miguel o'hara x reader || tw: explicit, sex pollen, mention of a wound, slight chase, miguel o'hara doesn't like to be ignored, cum eating, creampies, abnormal amount of fluid, nsfw, venom bite, slapping, some insecurity.

❝ after a discus malfunction, you're bitten by an anomaly and refuse medical attention. you're in a state that you refuse to show to miguel-- at all costs. ❞

Dedication

➳ oneshot || young scientist!miguel o'hara x reader, || tw: explicit, virgin reader, f!reader, plot heavy, loss of virginity, jealousy, overprotectiveness, objectification, aftercare, corruption, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❝ alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though. ❞

Enfocate

➳ oneshot (?) || tutor!miguel x reader || tw: explicit, spanish tutor!miguel, jealousy, bjs, fake boyfriend!peter, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, undefined relationships, fuck boy Miguel.

❝ jess is clear: miguel o'hara is a terrible boyfriend. he'll inevitably hurt you-- but peter has other ideas. or, you blow miguel in a library.❞

Before Anyone Else

➳ doubleshot || admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader, || tw: forced marriage, plot-heavy, royal!au, mention of character death, treason and betrayal, some angst-fluff, f!reader, persuasion inspired.

❝ once upon a time, miguel loved a princess. upon learning about her engagement to his father, King Stone, he's back with a plan in hand.❞

Exclusive

➳ oneshot || miguel o'hara x reader x hobie brown || tw: explicit, jealousy, somnophilia, fbs, undisclosed sexual relationship, dubious consent: aggression/revenge, f!reader, lying, angsty, break-ups.

❝ miguel learns his fuck buddy is fucking Hobie and feels some type of way about it.❞

Querido

➳ multi || outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader || tw: mention of murder and minor character death, hidden pregnancy, western au, outlaw!miguel, baby-mama!reader, slight cursing, angst, threats.

❝ it's been a long time since you've been with miguel o'hara. when your daughter gabriella finds his wanted poster, life starts to unravel.❞

Playing House

➳ oneshot || single parents: mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader || tw: explicit, some mention of hurt, heavy voyeurism, protective miguel, very light mutual jealousy.

❝ gabi's on a hunt to get a mami. miguel doesn't really need help with it. or, Miguel trades mechanic work for love. ❞

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Idle Hands

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❝ you’re a little bit of a show-off-- but Miguel likes it anyway. ❞

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Bebecita Sana, Sana

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood - 48

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 48: The Stag that Rages

AO3 - Masterlist

TW: Domestic Violence, Threat of Rape, Threat of loss of Freedom, Threat of forced Pregnancy.

The resonant snores suddenly ceased, indicating that her husband had roused from slumber. Daenera was perched at the table, partaking in her morning meal. Delicate morsels of cheese and bread graced her plate as she engrossed herself in the letter that had arrived from Storm’s End, while her long tresses were brushed through by Jelissa. 

Daenera Velaryon, 

I trust this missive finds you in good health and of a forgiving heart.

I must offer my deepest apologies for the actions of my brother. His grievous     misdeeds have tarnished the honor and reputation of House Baratheon, and I will not have it so. His affair and the subsequent birth of his bastard son with a baseborn whore are not only a dishonor to himself but also a stain on the legacy of House Baratheon. 

Rest assured, dear sister-in-law, I hold steadfastly to the belief that the title of Lord of Storm’s End must never be passed to a bastard. Our house has stood strong for generations, and I shall not see it weakened by such a foolish mistake. I am fully committed to ensuring that the only legitimate heirs of House Baratheon shall inherit our ancestral seat. 

I implore you to understand that my intention is to maintain the unwavering alliance between our two great houses. The strength of our bond must not waver, and for that reason, I expect my brother, my heir, to rectify his errors swiftly and unequivocally. The future of House Baratheon depends on it, as does the continued solidarity between our families.

Only the son born of you and my brother shall inherit Storm’s End and for that reason, I ask your forgiveness for my brother. I will ensure that he understands his position, and that he will fulfill his duty as your husband. 

With utmost respect and sincere regrets, Lord Borros Baratheon of Storm’s End

The letter bore the unmistakable mark of Storm’s End’s Maester. Lord Borros Baratheon was, after all, not known for his literacy, and she doubted that he would have been able to construct such an eloquent letter without his Maester’s interference. Daenera let the letter drop to the table and picked up her book.

In the hustle and bustle of the chamber, Patrick scurried across the room, intent on aiding Boris in his morning rituals. His partially completed smock was left behind, a silent testament to the urgency of his duties.

Boris emerged from the bedchambers, clad in a loosely-fitting shirt and trousers. His eyes were burdened with heavy bags, their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. Patrick hurried to assist him, offering his lord his belt. Boris accepted with a gruff nod, swatting the young boy away without a word.  

“When I returned you weren’t in bed.” As Boris gruffly settled into his seat, the room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, the tension rising to a palpable level. The single boot Boris slipped onto his foot bore the marks of wear and tear, a testament to the rugged life he often led. Patrick, ever the diligent servant, scurried back with the other boot, holding it out for Boris to take. 

“I had trouble sleeping,” Daenera replied, her voice casual and unconcerned. She set her book aside, her fingers gently closing the pages. Her blue eyes held a hint of something unreadable as they studied her husband. 

“A walk…” Boris repeated, an accusation in his tone. 

Daenera’s gaze remained locked on Boris, her eyes steady and unflinching. The room seemed to shrink, its walls pressing closer as the tension between them thickened. 

“Yes, I took a walk,” she reiterated, her voice firm. “My husband wasn’t home to keep me company, so I took a walk in the gardens.”

Boris’s skepticism hung in the air like a storm cloud, dark and foreboding. His next words crackled with accusation, thundering almost. “You walked the gardens alone at night?”

A subtle shiver passed down her spine as she sensed the brewing tempest, like the surge of the time before a tidal wave crashed ashore. 

“Fenrick was with me,” she replied, ehr tone laced with a deliberate calmness, as if daring Boris to question her further. 

The room held its breath, every object frozen in place, as if waiting for the impending storm. Boris’s clenched fist came down upon the table with a resounding thud, a stark punctuation to the charged atmosphere. The clatter of cutlery and Jelissa’s surprised squeak added discordant notes to the chaotic symphony that had suddenly erupted. 

Fear clung to the air as Boris’s gaze bore into her, a tempestuous sea of emotion threatening to drown her. Daenera could taste the bitterness of dread at the back of her throat as she faced the storm she had inadvertently seemed to provoke. 

“Out,” Boris ordered, his voice low and menacing. “Out. All of you.”

Patrick’s gaze darted between Boris and Daenera, and Jelissa paused in her brushing, a disquiet frown on her face. 

“Do not look at her!” Boris' voice rumbled with anger, a storm within a storm, as he barked his command. His clenched fist struck the table once more, the sound echoing through the room like thunder. The flush of indignation colored his cheeks a deep shade of red, so close to turning purple. “Get out!”

Daenera made a subtle nod, silently granting permission for the servants to retreat from the chamber. They exchanged anxious glances, then withdrew, closing the door behind them. The room suddenly felt much more intimate, the downpour of the storm beginning to crash around them in the silence. 

Unease began to fester within her as Daenera watched the door close, leaving her alone with Boris.

“What’s bothering you so?” Daenera tried to maintain her composure, her voice steady despite the tension building between her shoulder blades. “You’re not usually in a sour mood when you’re going hunting.”

Boris shot her a venomous glare. “Where were you last night?”

“I already told you, I took a walk–”

“Do not lie to me! I am not as stupid as you might think,” Boris’s voice crackled like a whip, his anger violent in its presence. He swept his plate from the table, sending it crashing to the floor. The room reverberated with the clatter of metal against stone, and the food scattered across the floor. The ambiance of their chambers turned hostile, as the storm broke into thunder and lightning, unleashing its fury within the stone walls of their chambers. 

Daenera’s eyes widened in exasperation as she watched his tantrum unfold, her attempt to defuse the situation met with resistance. “I don’t believe you’re–”

“Did you truly believe I wouldn’t notice?” Boris interrupted, his voice laced with seething anger. He abruptly rose from the table, advancing towards her like a charging bull. Towering over her, his eyes bulged with fury, spittle clinging to his beard. Daenera had no time to flinch as he seized her by the face, fingers digging into her cheeks with a painful force that made her mouth purse. The skin of her cheek grated against her teeth, threatening to split open from the pressure. Her heart raced within her chest as fear coursed through her veins. 

“I don’t know–what–you’re talking–about,” Daenera managed to force out through her mouth, each word making her teeth scrape against the fragile flesh of her cheeks.

“You’ve been having an affair! You’ve been spreading your legs!” Boris accused, his finger pointing at Daenera with such force that his hand quivered. His eyes blazed with a violent rage, and every gesture he made appeared exaggerated and pent-up, as though he teetered on the edge of an explosive eruption–as if he hadn’t already exploded. It was evident he struggled to contain his anger, his teeth grinding as he glared at her menacingly, the wild expression in his eyes deeply disconcerting. “Did you believe I wouldn’t question the marks on your body?”

With a roughness that almost sent her tumbling from her chair, Boris released her. Daenera’s tongue traced the contours of the inside of her cheek, exploring the gloves where her teeth might have left marks. Her voice, now steady and cold, sliced through the charged atmosphere. “You have the audacity to accuse me of infidelity when you’ve sired a bastard with a whore.”

Boris charged towards her, his furious steps echoing through the room, but Daenera’s palm slammed down on the table with a resounding bang, the impact emphasizing her anger. Her hand grabbed onto the prongs on the table, holding it up threateningly as a sneer curled her lips, and her voice dripped with venom. “You will not strike me again!” 

She released an unamused breath as her fingers tightened around the prongs. She had grown tired of portraying the submissive wife, enduring her husband’s humiliation in silence, keeping up the appearance of a happy marriage. 

Daenera continued, “And you have the boldness to threaten me with legitimizing that bastard, making him your heir. Do you truly believe your brother would accept soiling your house with the blood of a whore?”

Boris ground his teeth, the veins in his throat bulging with rage as his eyes darted toward the prongs in her hand, seizing her up. 

With a half-hearted shrug, her mouth twisted into an upside-down smile that spoke volumes of her defiance, she flicked her hand dismissively towards the letter, the parchment laying unfolded on the surface of the table, displaying the black stag at the corner. “I can assure you he wouldn’t be pleased. Perhaps he’d allow you to legitimize the child, but he’d never risk incurring my family’s wrath by favoring a baseborn heir over a trueborn one.”

Boris looked at her in utter disbelief, his sneer revealing his shock. “You wrote to my brother?” 

His tone was filled with incredulity, carrying with it a hint of petulance that seemed more suited to a child. He made it sound as if Daenera had tattled on him, revealing a grievous secret to someone he knew would bring him to account. It was almost an inadvertent admission of wrongdoing. 

Daenera’s eyes narrowed angrily as she responded, her tone firm, “Of course I did. You risk the wrath of House Targaryen–”

“I don’t bloody care about the wrath of House Targaryen!” Boris roared, his fury echoing through the chamber. “You are my wife. You belong to me . I am your lord husband, and I demand the respect I deserve!”

“Respect is earned, not given in demand.”

His voice took a cold, malicious tone as he continued, “You shouldn’t hold my son’s status as a bastard against him, I have not held it against you.”

Daenera stared at him, her anger blazing incandescently in her eyes. “Are you calling me a bastard?”

“Do you believe the whole realm is blind to your true nature?” Boris sneered, gesturing dramatically as if to encompass the entire world beyond their chamber walls. “If the King weren’t so willfully blind, he would recognize that his daughter is a whore. A trait that his granddaughter appears to have inherited.”

“The King will have your tongue for that,” Daenera responded with a dark undertone, wishing for nothing more than to see it true.

“What do you suppose they would say once they discover you’ve been spreading your legs like some common whore?” Boris harshly yanked open a drawer in a nearby side table, retrieving something which he then thrust into her face. “I stumbled upon this in our own bed .”

Boris extended his hand, his forefinger and thumb pinched together. It took a moment for Daenera to recognize the long, fine strand of hair, distinctively Valyrian in hue. She swallowed thickly, forcing her face to remain still as she glared at her husband, letting a furrow crease her brow. 

“You’ve been fucking one of your uncles,” Boris hissed at her, his words dripping with venom. “And judging by the length of the hair I found, I’d wager it’s Aemond.”

Daenera shot a sharp, incredulous glare at her husband. “You’re accusing me of adultery based on a single strand of hair in our bed? We reside in a castle filled with silver-haired individuals! Did it not occur to you that you’d find their hairs scattered everywhere?”

Boris closed the distance between them, his face almost purple with rage, his eyes wide and thunderous. “In. Our. Bed.”

“Helaena–” The sharp crack of his hand against her cheek sent her and the chair tumbling to the floor. 

“Do not dare lie to my face,” Boris snarled, looming over her. “Do you think this is the only thing that’s aroused my suspicion? The hair, the damning evidence on your body–did you truly believe I wouldn’t notice? I initially dismissed the warnings about you, the whispers of your true nature–no longer.”

He violently seized her by the hair, wrenching her from the floor with such force she wondered whether he’d tear the hair from her scalp. Daenera struggled desperately to keep up, the nails of her free hand dug into his hand, attempting to pry it off.

With a surge of desperation, she thrust the prongs of the fork forward, sinking them into Boris’s arm. A primal howl of pain and rage erupted from him as he reeled from shock. The room seemed to spin as her vision blurred from the strike across her face, but she clung to the fork, twisting it ruthlessly.  

Boris, seething with fury, propelled her towards the bed, his grip unrelenting. He tossed her onto its edge with merciless force. The impact expelled the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping for precious breath. As her vision swam, she struggled to regain her bearings. She felt nauseous with fear, her hands gripping the blanket as she attempted to crawl away. 

With an annoyed roar, Boris yanked the prongs from his flesh, creating a gruesome wound that immediately began to seep blood. The crimson stain spread across the sleeve of his arm, dark and foreboding. His curses reverberated through the room as he tossed the prongs, the steel clattering over the floor. 

“I’ve granted you far too many liberties. I should have imposed discipline right from the beginning and molded you into a proper, obedient wife,” Boris seethed with anger, the unmistakable sound of his belt being undone filling the room like an ominous warning. True fear pierced Daenera’s heart like a cruel blade, and she clutched the mattress desperately, scrambling across it in a frantic bid to escape the advancing man. 

“You are my wife. Above all else, you are MINE,” he growled, his voice dripping with possessiveness. 

The bed creaked as he knelt upon it, his powerful hand closing around her angle and ruthlessly pulling her away from the mattress’s edge, back onto the bed. Daenera could taste bile at the back of her throat, tears clinging to her eyelashes as she kicked and pleaded. “No! No! No!”

“You have forsaken your duty,” Boris growled, mounting her with a brutal force that left her gasping for breath. He seized her wrists in an iron grip, and she struggled against his overwhelming strength, clawing and writhing beneath him in an attempt to fend him off. “You’ve forsaken your honor, you have shamed me, you have ruined yourself and your dignity, by spreading your legs for other men. You have not given me a son, and I cannot trust you to do so when you’re whoring yourself around. I will not tolerate it.”

His weight pressed down on her, threatening to shatter her hips and smother the life from her. She felt her hands bound with his belt, the leather biting cruelly into her wrists as he fastened it around the canopy bedpost, leaving her helpless and immobilized. 

Boris dismounted from her, leaving the bed entirely as he strode towards his wardrobe. Daenera wisted in the bed, her wrists straining against the leather bindings as she knelt on the mattress, anxiously watching for Boris’s movements. Her body quivered, her hair clung to the nape of her neck, damp with cold sweat. 

“Please,” she implored, her voice quivering with fear. She swallowed hard, struggling to inject some semblance of composure into her words. “I have been a faithful wife to you. I haven’t committed the act you accuse me of. I have not bedded anyone but you.”

Boris emerged from the wardrobe, a fresh belt gripped firmly in his hand. The sight sent Daenera’s heart plummeting into her stomach as the full weight of the situation dawned on her. She vigorously shook her head from side to side as he advanced towards her. “No, no, no. I am your wife! I have remained loyal to you. You can't do this.”

Her desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as she climbed onto the bed, causing the mattress to dip under his considerable weight. “You may be my wife, but that also makes you my possession. I can do whatever I please with you, discipline you however I see fit. 

Daenera kicked out in a surge of rage, her fury bubbling to the surface as she sneered. “I am Daenera Velaryon! I am a princess. Lay a hand on me, and I’ll have you fed to my mother’s dragon.”

“There’s that fire I’ve heard about,” Boris jeered darkly. 

As her eyes locked onto the belt again, a chilling wave washed over her, prompting her to pull even harder against the restraints. Her heart raced, pounding painfully against her ribs, threatening to shatter them entirely. Fear gripped her, her body betraying it by trembling. Desperately, she tried to evade his grip, kicking at him. His fingers once more closed around her ankle, tugging her roughly until she sprawled facedown on the mattress. Boris climbed over her flailing legs, settling on her thighs, pinning limbs down. “I won’t tolerate your disgraceful behavior any longer.”

“You bring dishonor upon yourself!” Daenera spat at him, defiantly craning her head to meet her enraged husband’s eyes, her fury matching his. 

His fingers clenched around her dress, ripping the fabric apart and exposing her back to the cool air. The sudden tearing of cloth elicited a sharp cry from her, her legs flailing wildly, heels connecting with his back. 

“I’ll instruct you on the ways of a loyal, honorable wife,” Boris sneered, dragging his palm down the curve of her bare spine. 

Daenera felt a nauseating blend of revolt and fear coiling within her, churning her stomach and pushing bile to the back of her throat. She instinctively arched her back, desperately trying to escape his touch, but there was no escape. The leather restraints around her wrist bit into her flesh, causing her hands to throb and turn a deep shade of crimson. 

Her head was yanked back mercilessly by her hair, forcing her to look up at him as he leaned closer, his breath hot and unpleasant in her ear.

“I’m simply doing what any responsible husband should do – discipline you,” he murmured, before releasing her head and shifting his weight back onto her legs again.

The initial strike of the belt lashed down across her bare back, stealing her breath and searing pain into her skin. The second followed swiftly, the pain merging with the first, making them almost indistinguishable though no less painful. But it was the third strike that finally forced a cry from her lips, tears streaming down her cheeks as her back throbbed and burned. It felt as if her skin was on fire, as if flames licked at it, relishing in the agony that made her head swim. 

As the leather bit into the tender flesh, her vision blurred with pain, and she could feel the welts already forming. Her body trembled under each punishing blow, and her fingers clenched into fists, pulling at the leather restraints that bound her to the bedpost. 

Boris’s voice, dripping with anger, echoed in her ears as he continued the brutal chastisement. 

“When we first met,” he snarled, the belt biting into her skin with each strike, “I made it clear what I expected from you. I expected you to understand your duties as a wife. To be obedient and pliant.”

Another fierce strike, and another cry escaped from her lips. Boris roughly pushed her head down into the mattress, muffling her cries. “To show respect to your husband.”

Daenera could hardly make out his words amid the deafening throb of her own pulse within her head. The pounding of her blood resonated loudly in her ears, drowning out all else. Each word he spoke was like a distant echo, distorted and surreal, as if they came from another world entirely.

Lightheadedness enveloped her, tears blurring her vision. Each breath felt like a struggle, drawn in with ragged, labored pants. It was as if the air itself had thickened around her, making it difficult to breathe–as if she was breathing in water. Drowning was such a slow death , she thought. Her face was pressed into the unforgiving fabric of the blanket beneath her, soaking it with her tears. The sensation of the rough, coarse fabric against her cheek added to the disorientation. 

Every strike of the belt against her bare back sent shockwaves of searing pain through her body, but her cries were muffled by the fabric beneath her, betraying her to keep silent. 

Boris’s grip on her hair intensified, pulling her head back with a cruel force. She hardly felt the sting in her scalp. “You belong to me, do you understand?”

A spark of insolence, seemingly woven into her very essence, flared up within her with a defiant intensity. It emerged as a mirthless, almost maniacal laughter. “You’re absolutely right, husband. I have fucked another. But you mustn’t lay all the blame on me. The fault is not all mine. You see, you just couldn’t satisfy my needs.”

As he released her, a cry erupted from her, but was quickly smothered by the blanket. The belt cracked down onto her, its leather teeth gnawing at her skin and leaving it throbbing and inflamed. Another cry burst forward. Blow after brutal blow rained down upon her, and it felt as if her spine and ribs were being painted with bruised hues. 

Boris exerted himself, grunting with the effort. The buckle of the belt chimed, and a sudden, searing pain exploded at the side of her head, causing her ear to ring. Warmth flowed, and blood began to drip onto the pristine white bedding, the fabric eagerly drinking in the crimson stain. 

Daenera’s gaze fixated on her numb hands, which were gradually taking on a purplish hue. In her mind, she conjured a vivid image of her husband’s demise. Blood trickled from her ear, tracing a crimson path along her cheek as she envisioned him lying broken and battered, struggling to breathe as he choked on his own blood, his face contorted in anguish, eyes widening with horror at his own mortality. She imagined him writhing in excruciating pain, rendering him black, blue and bleeding. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

She cursed him with her breath, cursed him with her blood, cursed him with her rage.

“I will show you,” Boris hissed through clenched teeth, casting the belt aside with disdain as it thudded onto the floor. His rough hand traced down her battered spine, causing her to grit her teeth against the searing pain on her already abused skin. “I will have you with my child. MY child. You will know no other.”

Daenera’s head hung limply to the side, her breath reduced to shallow, labored pants. The faint rustle of fabric filled her ears as Boris unfastened the laces of his trousers. Her heavy eyelids fluttered, and she summoned the strength to pry them open, turning her head to observe him. There, he knelt behind her with his flaccid member in hand, attempting in vain to coax it into readiness. Frustration etched his brow as his cock remained unresponsive, and an irrepressible laugh bubbled from Daenera’s lips.

Her laughter ran out, echoing in the room. In response, Boris forced her face down into the mattress, holding her head there as her body convulsed, deprived of the precious air it so desperately craved. 

With a growl of frustration, Boris finally released her, rising from the bed. But Daenera scarcely noticed as she gulped down lungfuls of air, her body trembling from the near-suffocation she had endured. 

The room stirred with movement, and then his voice sliced through the air. “I demand that you send word for your ship and prepare for our departure once I return from this hunt. You will accompany me back to Storm’s End, where you shall become a proper wife and fulfill your duty of bearing sons. Your misguided time in King’s Landing has come to an end.”

Once he had left, Daenera carefully wiggled off the bed, her knees making contact with the cold stone floor. The jolt sent a shockwave through her body, which helped to clear some of the fog in her head. With every movement, her aching back protested, her muscles frayed and bones bruised. The side of her head felt warm and sticky, though she hardly felt the throb of pain on her ear.

Remaining tethered to the canopy bed, she found herself half-leaning against the side of the mattress, balanced on both knees, her forehead falling to her arm. Her teeth clattered together as her entire body shook and trembled with the force of shock, as if she had been caught in the icy winds of the North and was slowly freezing to death. She hardly heard Jelissa enter the room. 

Jelissa, her hand flying to her mouth in shock, rushed into the room, tears already welling in her eyes at the sight of the injured princess. 

“Princess,” Jelissa gasped, her voice quivering, as she reached for the restraints that tied the princess to the bed. 

As the leather loosened around her wrists, her arms fell heavily to her lap. The joints of her shoulders protested painfully as they settled back into position. Her hands had been blissfully numb, but now, as the blood rushed into her limbs once more, they began to throb and prickle. It felt as if a thousand needles were puncturing the skin, sinking into the flesh repeatedly. She gritted her teeth and looked up into the young maid’s face.

“Robe,” Daenera muttered, her voice raw with exhaustion.

“What?” Jelissa asked, concerned. 

“The robe,” Daenera gestured painfully towards the silk robe lying across a chair. 

Jelissa crawled over the floor and stretched out, gripping the robe quickly. She carefully wrapped it loosely around Daenera’s shoulders, helping her guide her arms through the sleeves. Every once in a while, she stopped to wipe the tears from her face, sniffing loudly as she tried not to burst into loud sobs. 

Daenera rested weakly against the bed, her cheek pressed against the soft mattress. “Get Aemond.”

With a nervous swallow, Jelissa nodded and hurried off the carry out her princess’s command. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath labored and shallow as she tried not to exacerbate the pain on her back by breathing too roughly. The skin felt tightly drawn over her bones, searing with pain as if she’d been branded. A chill began to set in, nibbling at her toes and fingertips, running coolly down her spine and seeping into her bones. At the creak of the door, she pried her eyes open again, looking up as Aemond came into view. Upon seeing his face, she felt a weak sob rise in her throat.

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt 20

(Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader x Cersei Lannister HEAVY SPOILER TW: pregnancy loss)

AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

News of Lord Renly's death swept the court and you were genuinely sorry to hear of it.

You had only met Renly a few times, but each time he had been kind to you.

But with Renly now dead, Stannis had claimed his remaining forces and tripled the size of his army.

It did not take a genius to understand that King's Landing was under threat.

According to The Master of War, they were only a few weeks away by ship.

As the fleet drew closer, you received a surprising invitation.

It had been 2 months since you had stood in the presence of Queen Cersei. You hadn't looked at each other, you hadn't spoken to or about one another.

You refused to be the first to crack.

You weren't the same scared girl who had followed the Lion Queen across the continent nearly a year ago, now you were a lady, the wife of one of the fiercest men in Westeros, and soon to be a mother.

You would not crack.

"The Queen wished to see you, My Lady."

Lancel looked pale and skittish. You figured the knowledge that his first real war was looming just beyond the water's edge was wearing on him.

"You should get some rest." you counseled him. "You look tired."

Sandor wanted to come with you, lest you return with fresh cuts and bruises, but you would only allow him to escort you to the royal quarters.

Even with the crutch Pycelle provided, walking proved to be a challenge.

Your ankle had healed enough to bear a little weight, but your pregnant belly made it hard to keep your balance.

Cersei was waiting for you with a jug of red and two chalices laid out with cakes and cheeses. She kept no handmaids about for your visit.

"You're looking better." Was the first thing she said. "Please sit."

"Many thanks, Your Grace." you nodded, moving to sit carefully grunting a little as you did.

"My love." Cersei sighed, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

You smiled a little, relieved.

"It's all but forgotten, my queen."

"No" Cersei shook her head. "I was angry, frustrated with my brother and the council, and his grace. And I took it out on you. That wasn't right of me."

This show of accountability left you speechless in the best of ways. You almost wanted to pull Sandor in and say "Look, see. I told you."

"You must be famished." Cersei moved to pour the wine, "I know I was in my final days."

"My Queen. Forgive me, I am so happy we're speaking again," you confessed, accepting the chalice gladly. "I love my husband, but...I missed you so much. It was like someone had punched a hole out of my chest and left an empty space."

Cersei smiled a little, taking a deep drink of the wine and motioning for you to do the same.

You obeyed.

"Pycelle says I shouldn't drink too much wine or ale" You filled the air with your words, not noticing the queen had gone silent.

"He says it might hurt the baby, but it's so late in. Only two more months now. Surely just a glass or two wouldn't hurt."

"Of course not" Cersei brushed off the Grandmaester as if he were nothing more than a sideshow magician. "Drink as much as you like my pet." Cersei took your hand, squeezing it and you felt as if she was squeezing your heart.

"I am so glad you're back where you belong."

You drank and laughed together into the evening.

You ventured another glass of wine. It tasted different this time, less sweet.

The drink had an herby, earthy taste to it, different from the Reds and Golds you usually drank.

Glancing into the cup and you found the liquid to be dark, almost black.

"What vintage is this? I don't know that I've ever tasted it before."

Cersei paused and smiled, "Oh just, something I have been working on. We have land in the Arbor, as you know. With the King nearly grown, soon he won't need his mother's help, so I've taken up a new hobby."

You nodded, struck suddenly by how heavy your head was on your neck. you must have drunk too much.

Setting the chalice aside, you tried to focus your vision.

"I beg your pardon," you swallowed, finding your throat dry and acidic, "But I think I'm a little drunk, I should-"

Your body grew intolerably hot, but no sweat came to cool you. You tried to stand, reaching for your crutch but your fingers fumbled against the wood's grain and it fell to the floor.

You looked to the queen and found your vision doubling, the world around you swaying and tilting as the sound of yourr own panting filled your head.

"My Queen-"

"Sh, sh, sh, sh" Cersei watched you with stony eyes, calm as can be.

"Hush now, love."

"Please."

"This needed to happen, pet" Cersei explained. "I would have told you if I thought you'd understand. But that's fine because I'm handling it. Just relax and let it happen."

Your body was on fire, and if you had the strength, you would have been desperately trying to peel your gown and small clothes off for some relief.

A pain was growing in your belly, which made your heart race as you frantically tried to will it away.

No, you begged the gods for help. No please, please help me. Please don't let this happen.

The Queen was trying to kill me.

Varys' word to you rang in your ears.

"There's more than one way to be rid of the troublesome wife."

No.

You would have sobbed if it hadn't felt like every drop of water had been sucked from your body, leaving you stiff and burning.

You tried to rise once again, pushing yourself from the chair only to crash onto the carpet. your ankle screamed with pain as you tried to crawl across the floor, desperate to make it to the door.

Cersei rose as this, grabbing your arm and flinging you limply onto your back.

To your horror, Cersei knelt between your legs and lifted your skirts critically.

What was she looking for?

"Not yet" she grumbled, looking down on her lover pitilessly.

You lay on the ground for what felt like hours.

The blurred edges of your vision crept inward until the whole world was a blur. No hard or defined lines, only masses, and shapes.

Your ears felt as if they were plugged with cotton, every sound was muffled save for your own breathing.

You felt like a dry dead tree thrown on the fire, the heat never letting up for even a moment as the pain that started in your belly spread up to your spine and down through every muscle in your legs.

You wanted to rise. To run.

But when you tried, your body began to shake uncontrollably.

Your movements were no longer your own and you felt the muscles of your throat being to seize and shake along with every other particle in your body.

You could vaguely hear Cersei begin to call for aid.

You were momentarily aware of hands gripping you because their touch only made the fire burn hotter. You must still be thrashing because the hands held tighter.

People were talking, yelling even, but you would not make out the words.

You were moving, and the slight breeze that blew across your brow felt like heaven.

I'm dying, you wanted to say, there's no saving me.

I should have let Sandor come.

I shouldn't have gone at all.

I never should have gone to the docks.

We never should have agreed to wait 3 more months before leaving.

Wherever you were, it was dark.

Or had your vision gone completely?

You could hear the frantic sounds of movement.

You felt hands gripping your body to move it around as needed.

After a while tou were completely unaware of your body outside of the heat.

Where were your arms?

Were your legs still there?

Was your head simply floating around, unattached?

It was hard to tell.

Then came the pain.

The real pain.

Pain you had no concept of until right at this moment, and even now it was so overwhelming you couldn't comprehend it.

It was as though your body was being slowly torn apart at the seams.

Your very being was forced to condense and expand on the whim of some unseen and unknowable force, and you were powerless to stop it.

You had no concept of how long the pain had racked your body. It could have been 10 hours just as easily as it could have been 10 minutes.

And all at once, the pain was over.

You weren't sure if you had blacked out, or if you had died, but your body had altogether gone slack, and you had never been so grateful for anything in your life.

Your skin still burned, but some angel from heaven had begun to lay cool clothes soaked in cold water over your body.

Someone was speaking to you.

Or was that just your own mind?

It didn't matter.

You could only pick up one word.

Sleep.

You obeyed gratefully.

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

By the time you had awakened, arrangements for your funeral were being made.

You lay on a small cot, close to a window. It was daylight.

Your body ached as if you had gone to war.

The sheet that covered you clung to your body with sweat and you struggled to raise your arms to stretch.

You felt as if you were made of wood, joints immovable and creaking from lack of use.

Yiu sat up slowly and froze. Hands traveled down your body, over breast, ribs, and down

to your stomach.

It was gone.

Where had it gone?

pulse racing as you tried to stand, crying out at the shot of pain that bolted through your leg.

the sound of clattering glass and shuffling feet answered your cry as Pycelle rushed to find you leaning against his workbench, disoriented and panicked.

"My Lady" He cried, "Please sit back down, please."

"Where is he?" you stared at him with wild eyes, hair falling loose from a braid someone else had done. "Where is he?"

"Your husband is on his way, My Lady. Please!" Pycelle took your wrist and motioned back to the cot, "Please sit. You will tear your stitching."

"Not my husband, my son! Where is my son?"

Pycelle blanched but succeeded in getting you to sit back down by the time others began to enter the Grandmaester's quarters.

Sandor came first, followed quickly by Queen Cersei, and Lady Sansa.

You looked at them all with wide, confused eyes.

"Sandor." You breathed, reaching for your husband for reassurance. "Where is he? Where is our son?"

Sandor didn't answer at first. He wanted to run to you, to embrace you tightly.

But he couldn't, not in front of them.

"My Lady." Pycelle began again, "Please listen to me."

He pulled your full attention as he moved to sit next to you, taking your hand in his.

"My Lady, you had a terrible fit. Do you remember that?"

"No?" You shook your head, "I don't remember anything, I- I think Her Grace summoned me, and after that, I don't-"

"It was during your visit with the queen that you took ill. You fell into a terrible state, and while it was quite the fight, we were able to bring you back. But..."

He looked to Sandor, suddenly at a loss for words.

"My Lord, I think it best you go from here."

Sandor swallowed hard but took Pycelle's place next to you.

Your eyes were so pleading and desperate, he couldn't look at them.

"After a few hours, they told me they would only be able to save one of you, and I had to choose between you and our son.....Darling, I'm so sorry."

Your soul froze and dropped to the deepest pit of your stomach.

"That's a lie." You shook your head, "That's a lie, you're lying, it didn't-they never- No! No, No, No!"

He held you. You screamed your rage to the heavens and beat your fists on his arms, but he held you.

"How did it happen?" You demanded, "I don't understand! I don't!"

"There is no way to tell, I am afraid." Pycelle remained calm, as was his duty in these particularly hard situations. "Sometimes these things happen."

"I want to see him!" You wailed, "I don't believe you! I want to see him!"

"No, my love." Sandor gripped you tightly, pinning your arms to your sides as you tried to claw yourself up from the cot, "He's been buried."

"So soon?" You blinked.

"My dear," Cersei said delicately. "You've been asleep for almost 2 weeks; we feared you would never wake up."

It was as if the world had come crashing down around you.

There was no future, no past, there was only this moment.

Only this debilitating pain that knew no end.

"I think it would be best if Lady Clegane take some time to process." Pycelle insisted.

"Yes, of course." Cersei took Sansa's arm. The teen had begun to silently weep for her friend.

"Come, little dove. Clegane, take a few days. I will explain it to the King."

Sandor nodded and his wife melted into him silently.

"I need to see it" you begged, "please, I need to see his grave."

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

It was supposed to be a high honor to be buried in the crypts of King's Landing.

And honor reserved for kings and their families.

The tiny grave was set aside, away from the hulking stone monuments to great men.

"There's no name." You observed, leaning on your husband, "I- I suppose we never actually discussed one."

Sandor was silent, eyes trained on the small stone monument to a life that had not lasted more than a day.

At first, he hoped against hope that the child would live.

He was so small. So small Sandor was at a loss what to do with him when they placed his son in his arms.

His face was red and squished, but he never cried. Not once.

After the first few hours, when he hadn't died, The Hound thought maybe, just maybe they had beaten the odds.

He was his son after all.

He came from a line of strong men.

His mother was the strongest woman Sandor had ever met.

Sandor never prayed but that night he had.

He prayed to the Mother to have mercy on his wife and child, the Smith to aid the Maesters in their work, and the Father for the strength to care for his son if you didn't make it.

His son passed silently the day after he was down. It was peaceful, and he hoped it had been without pain.

The Silent Sisters took his tiny body away to prepare it for burial, and Sandor never saw him again.

He hadn't realized he was crying until you pulled him tightly to you, reaching up to touch his face.

"Oh, my love." You breathed, "I should have been there with you."

"He was so small." Sandor's voice caught, "I hoped maybe he would- but he went quietly. He didn't suffer."

You stood there in the darkness of the crypt, the torchlight licking at your skin and sending your shadows dancing across the stone walls.

You both cried bitter tears for your child, saying a million goodbyes to the stone memorial but neither was willing to leave.

"Lady Clegane."

A light voice cut through the darkness and you pulled from your husband's embrace, squinting in the darkness.

"Varys?"

"We haven't the time for your nonsense, Spider." Sandor growled, "Have some decency."

"Decency, my friend, is what brings me here." Varys come dressed in black, out of respect for his friend's mourning. "I brought someone I believe you are both familiar with. Come, son."

Lancel stepped out of the shadows, his head bent low as he approached the two of you.

"Lancel?" You blinked in confusion, "What is this?"

"Tell them what you told me." Varys insisted.

"Ser, My Lady" Lancel began, "I know you have no memory of what happened, but I beg of both of you to believe me when I say my words are the truth."

"Go on" Sandor was interested now. The Lannister boy had made it a point to stay out of The Hound's line of sight since that night in the King's Wood. He had a lot of balls to present himself mere weeks after his son's death.

"Your son's death was no accident." Lancel insisted, "I know how it sounds, but please listen. The Queen knew that once you had given birth, you would leave for the Westerlands. She was desperate to make you stay, and one day she returned from Pycelle's with a potion. I asked her what it was for and she said I wasn't...." he paused there swallowing his embarrassment for the sake of the truth.

"She said she didn't want to risk getting pregnant by me, so she was taking it every night to make sure it didn't happen. But I never saw her take them. "

Your eyes widened in horror, "The night I went to see her. I remember the wine. It tasted different; I couldn't put my finger on it."

Your face twisted, "No. No, Her Grace...she wouldn't do something like that. She knew what this baby meant to me."

"I'm so sorry." Lancel looked at you distraught, "If I had known, I would have come straight away. I swear that on my life. I never would have sent you to her."

"Boy, I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you are certain what you just said is the truth."

Sandor moved in front of you and met the young knight face to face.

"I'd swear it before The Seven themselves."

"Swear it to me."

"I swear."

Lancel made his face serious as the grave as Sandor studied him before nodding.

"We must go." Varys said, "Before we are found out. You two go up the way you came, Lancel you follow me. My Dear-"

Vary's caught your hand and you found his eyes uncommonly sincere.

"I know I didn't always look out for your best interests, but I hardly have the words to express my sorrow. I mourn with you."

You felt tears in your eyes again and wiped them away quickly.

"Thank you, Varys, and you Lancel, for the truth."

"Use it wisely" he advised you before disappearing once again into the darkness. Lancel hung back for a moment until Sandor nodded to him.

"You know what must be done," you swallowed coldly, not looking at your husband and instead staring at the nameless grave before you. "She get away with this. I won't let her "

"She won't, my love." Sandor's grip on your shoulder was strong, "I promise you."

You nodded slowly, approaching the grave and kneeling. You ran your fingers over the blank stone and breathed a hard and almost painful sigh.

"I know what name should go here."

"What?"

"Aello" you breathed, the name becoming a vow as it passed your lips.

"Aello" Sandor echoed. He'd heard that name before. He'd forgotten where. "Why that name?"

You looked back at him, the torch light casting a gleam in your eyes that he had never seen before.

"It means Storm."

[sporemouse]

'ADOPTION' TIME!

Anyone who wants Sporemouse to be their cat's mother just needs to reblog this post with a picture of their cat, the cats age, and their relationship to Sporemouse (positive, estranged, etc.)

Cats that aren't really cats and cats with funny names are also welcome, the only requirements are

-Being in @Mommyclan -Being under 51 moons old (there may be a few exceptions -Being open to Lore/backstory brainstorming so we can make everything work together -Being respectful

Under the cut is Sporemouse's backstory/personality (tw for mentions of disease, miscarriage, death, and death of kits)

Backstory:

They were born in leaf bare, there was very little prey and Redcough was going around. It's parents and littermates all died before she was weaned, but the few other queens wanted to focus on their own kits and were afraid that they'd carry the disease so it was passed around the queens for feedings and had to be kept warm by a medicine cat. Despite the rough spot, Sporekit survived, though she was always a bit.. strange. Disconnected from their clanmates, she didn't have many friends but they were kind towards the ones it did have.

A while after she became a warrior they became pregnant in an affair with a kittypet. It didn't talk to her clanmates much about the pregnancy but they didn't hide it. She was clearly excited, so happy to finally be able to have a real family! But... Something went wrong, and none of their litter survived long. It was out in the forest when it happened, no one knew exactly what had happened when they came back...

She couldn't stand just sitting around in the camp after their loss, so it started to wander. One day she came back with a kit(or kits) and carefully made a nest in the Queen's den for itself. The first cat that asked was told where they found it, but after that she started to insist that this was the litter she was pregnant with. Even if they didn't believe that, their clanmates let her say that since it had been through a lot... Then a week or so later, another kit appeared in her nest, she insisted that it had always been there, a part of her first litter. Their future litters followed the same story, with more and more kits mysteriously appearing in her nest...

Personality:

Nowadays, Sporemouse is even more disconnected from its clanmates. Other than their kits, she barely interacts with other cats, and even interactions with those kits can be strange... She tends to be very overprotective, overbearing and clingy, when its time for the kits to become apprentices it's very nervous and will constantly ask if they want them to ask the leader to wait for a bit longer. Same for apprentices graduating to warriors. Even after their kits are warriors it will continue to baby them, straightening their fur, bringing them food, trying to cuddle and coddle them.

She's very concerned about and suspicious of mentors, friends, and potential mates of their kits, tending to follow them around and make sure they're not up to anything strange.

It also tends to excuse and defend her kits behavior no matter what they're getting up to. They will not tolerate anyone accusing its kits of anything or messing with their kits. It can be a bit violent with cats they see as a threat, but she would NEVER show that side of itself to her kits.

If a kit figures out that Sporemouse isn't really their mother and confronts them about it they will continue to insist that its not true, as it genuinely believes that they ARE her kits.

[i-write-boop-spoops]

Leon with an S/O who miscarried headcanons

tw miscarriage

Pretty much the title. This is just a very sad piece. Feel free to skip. If warnings are not tagged correctly, please let me know. Thanks to the anon who requested this, I decided to chose Leon over Steven since I had a few more ideas.

1 brief non-descript mention of blood. Self hatred. Once again, this is very sad piece.

Things were good

Things were better than good

He was the happiest he had been in a long time

Losing the title of champion was perhaps the best thing to ever happen to him

After you of course

He could still battle at a high level

On a much more giving schedule

Without the all the sponsorships and fake smiles and pressure

He could lose – and learn from those losses

At home, things were better still

He had more time to spend with you

Deepening that already strong bond you two shared

You being pregnant, contributed to that too

He was so excited

A sweet family of his own

A little baby, the perfect mix of the two of you

That you’d cherish and love and raise together

And then…

Things weren’t good

They weren’t good at all

Suddenly

You were in pain

Crying

Bleeding

Clutching your stomach

He whisked you off to the nearest hospital

Fearing the worst

He’ll never forget that terrible, sinking feeling

That grief

That anger

Sitting in that room

Arms protectively around you

Listening to that callous doctor coldly tell you that you’d miscarried

He felt so utterly helpless

What’s worse is

Whatever he was feeling, you felt one hundred times worse

No, you weren’t married

And no, your baby wasn’t planned

But that’s not the point

You both wanted that baby so badly

After you got the go ahead, you returned home

While you hadn’t done much preparation yet

Seeing that blanket you had started to crochet made you bawl all over again

You spent that night curled up together, weeping, hearts absolutely aching

He found it so hard to tell his mum and Hop

They were both so excited

Hop already preparing to be the best, coolest uncle in the whole world

But he had to tell them, there was no other way about it

So a day or two after you returned to your flat, he made an unannounced visit to Postwick

You didn’t come, the grief just too much to bear

He made sure to leave you in the comfort of loved ones

Promising to be back soon

As much as it hurt to be without him, you knew he had to

Hop answered the door

Excited and surprised to see his brother

Expression immediately fading at the sight of Leon’s forlorn face

“Lee… is everything okay?”

“We’re… we’re not having a baby anymore,”

Needless to say, there wasn’t a dry eye in Postwick that evening

He returned to you later on that night

With food from his mum

A stuffed toy from Hop

Crawling into bed next to you, holding you tight

Arceus forbid you had publicly announced your pregnancy

The tabloids already had a field day tearing into you for literally everything about your pregnancy

That’s not even mentioning the threats you received from Leon’s crazed sstans

So when your miscarriage was revealed to the public

It felt like the entire world was reveling or exploiting your tragedy in some way

Leon, as a public figure, was practically forced into making a statement

Especially considering his sudden and prolonged leave from the battle tower

Asking for respect and privacy at the time

You received little of either

Even the condolences you got, you didn’t want

The last thing you needed, was for others to remind you of the baby you didn’t have

You blamed yourself

It wasn’t your fault

Miscarriages happen way more often that is ever spoken about

For reasons way beyond your control

Some of your loved ones had experienced it, and you never faulted them

Yet still, you felt as if you had done something wrong

Done something to deserve this

Leon, your champion, was there to disagree

One day, particularly broken after seeing a new family on the street, you cried to him

Why would he evem stay with you? If you lost his baby?

What if you couldn’t give him a family at all?

Of course, he gently rebutted your concerns

Embracing you, holding you close, letting you cry

He loves you so much

And if what transipired was really due to fertility issues, he has the money and connections to get you sorted

Even then, adopting with you, giving a child a loving home, sounded amazing too

Yes, he wants a family

But he wants one with you

Whatever that may look like

This tragedy has emboldened that in you

You want a family with him too

And one day, you will, that he’d make sure of

[sweet-vanilla-sims]

Year 1678

TW/CW: Death Mention, Miscarriage

The began with the Ludovici family making preparations for Benetta's thirteenth birthday in October but with that also came talks of future matches though through talks with the Collari family between Leonardo and Alessandra it was agreed that Benetta would marry Jolene's son from her first marriage since he had a noble background but no titles for his own. Alessandra was the one who broke the news to Benetta who admitted that the match was a good one for them and the Collari family who wished to strengthen their ties with their family even if the bond would be indirect with the young man marrying into the Ludovici family.

By February the youngest Morosini boys were roaming the home chasing after their older siblings to the family's joy.

April brought with it Jolene's oldest son turning thirteen as he grew into a rather studious young man.

With Tala gone for nearly a year, Alessandro was once again pushed to marry though given his track record with his wives, he worried but he knew his children needed a mother and his own simply couldn't keep up with three children while he hand his father worked. So he discussed his plight with his daughter hoping for her blessing to remarry though he secretly hoped that she would refuse so that he wouldn't risk the loss of a third wife but Marina hoped her father would find a more permanent happiness and gave her approval.

In late July, Alessandro married Alessandra both of which had little illusions of the practicality of their union. For Alessandro, a wife would be good help for his children and the land and her high status background meant that her connections could lead to his children finding better matches in the future. While Alessandra married lower than her status to remove herself from succession since she had a reasonable claim to her household just like her young niece but she wished to leave that to the one who wanted it and not be a threat going forward besides, her actual lover was already married so it made sense that she should marry as well.

Taking heavily after the Carlisle side of the family more each day, Luisa celebrated her thirteenth birthday in Newcrest as her little sister grew into a little girl.

Sadly, Ashley was gripped with pains one day in early August only to find that she had lost a pregnancy before she had even known about it.

But despite the loss, the family was happy to celebrate Bastiano and Borthola turning six. Both children grew into traits that didn't necessarily suit their farm life as Bastiano had a love for the arts and Borthola was enamored with books and now that she was old enough to do things on her own she spent most of her time reading when she could.

While the older children could not get along when they were younger, the twins were practically attached at the hip all the time.

Back at the Rossi home, Alessandra learned that she was with child as September came though she was confident that the child was Alessandro's given the fact her love was elsewhere for the past weeks, she was disappointed that her child was not her lover's despite the fact that problems would arise for both of them since they were both married to other people. Still, it was more practical that her child was Alessandro's since she had nothing against the man.

At the Collari home, Cristofolo celebrated his thirteenth birthday as well. Though the puppy love he shared with a village girl had secretly bloomed into a silent romance as after the celebrations with his family he snuck out to see her. His love, Antea.

Still, in a way Cristofolo was also grateful to his little cousin since while he was more ambitious than his brother, Cristofolo being third-in-line to the head of house position was more than happy to hand it off if it meant that he could marry for himself.

Giulia was saddened by the news of Orion's passing in Newcrest shortly before Cristofolo's birthday though news didn't reach Tartosa until October.

At the Ludovici household, Benetta celebrated her thirteenth birthday with her brother, his wife and their son.

Borthola lamented that there was no way she'd be able to do much studying in the future when she grew up when Giovanni Cesare made an offhand comment specifying unless with the church. But the comment when he spoke it felt like a light had been raised in Borthola's mind towards the future. Giovanni Cesare could see the visible shift in his niece at his words when her mind registered his statement and went to his brother to tell him his thoughts. It seemed that Giovanni Cesare's slip of the tongue wasn't a foreign thought when Giuliano mentioned it to his wife and after a brief discussion that Ashley relayed to Borthola they decided that if this love for study persisted then perhaps in a few years down the line she would join the church and live in the nearby convent.

Late October, Giovanni Cesare ran home from his work in a hurry a foreign ship was taking servants to the colonies and had room for a few willing participants. With Marcello having to wait to even get the chance to go and even then might take years, Giovanni Cesare knew that this opportunity might not come again and so he spoke to the man in charge and signed up for a few years of labor once he got there but in a week's time he'd be headed to a new land with new people. Giulia was not pleased with her son's course of action, ships wrecked often and the labor he had signed himself into was long and had little reward but the deed was already done. As much as she wished to fight, she chose instead to spend her last moments with her son cherishing him and using what money she had set aside on new clothes and as a gift for his journey so he could start a life when his service was done with.

After his family went to sleep Giovanni Cesare spent his nights just walking through Tartosa, he'd miss it but he couldn't help but feel excited for his new life. November came with Giovanni Cesare's departure on the boat and for the next several weeks through the end of the year, the boat was his home.

[beonhwarp]

INTRODUCING, YOO SIU OF THE HOUSE OF MAGNOLIA !

the TWENTY-THREE year old is said to look a lot like YU JIMIN (KARINA) and resides in the MAGNOLIA ESTATE. they are best known as HOUSE OF MAGNOLIA'S FIRST-IN-LINE. look! i think they're headed this way! but make sure to read this CHECKLIST before you go.

a look further into their life . . .

( TW: death, alluded murder )

PAST

yoo siu was born as a pair alongside a mirror of her, only of the opposite gender and the two of them were instantly adopted into the magnolia estate. though their family line is blurry at best, rumours whisper that she is the daughter of a lady who used to work for the house, hence their immediate adoption into it. throughout her mother's whole pregnancy, it was believed that she carried two boys, which is why siu was born under a boy's name. she was the least preferred and it showed vividly in the way she was treated as opposed to her brother. whatever she lacked when it came to warmth and empathy, he picked right up and offered double: it was only natural that people gravitated around him a lot more. . . but she shone in leadership, especially one of a house. she was promised to be first in line ever since she was a kid - back when promises were something she had the privilege of holding onto. it was on their eighteenth birthday that her brother broke the news to her: that he would be the heir, that he was the right choice after all. but it was all she wanted, it was all she had. his death has been sudden - one that shook the whole house. she was never suspected - not once, for siu perhaps was cold and a little clumsy in social settings, but she certainly wasn't a murderer. it was an unfortunate event is what she told everyone - an illness that he caught and that took over his system in the span of a few days. and she had gone through so much - the loss of her brother, the loss of her place as first in line. . . it was only fair that she would get the title back - she had been mourning for so long! she deserved it, they all thought so.

PRESENT

as the canon goes, siu is obsessed with the idea of ruling beonhwa and will do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. she has made great sacrifices to end up where she is. now, she takes classes at the academy: top of her class in botany, and she curates an extensive selection of flowers in her garden - ones that are constantly being visited by butterflies and moths. she speaks with them at night when the house sleeps: they carry her secrets and her poisons.

FUTURE

someone to humble her

the others in line at magnolia to defy her

people to uncover her secrets, people she sees as threats and will attempt to take down

alternatively, people she actually likes, perhaps good influences that will force her to let her guard down.

written by sen (they/them), 20+ in the EST tmz. personal triggers: graphic descriptions of self harm and eating disorders

[robertdowneyhiddlesbatch]

Chapter 11: Heir To The King

tw: smaug attempts to harm his egg

[3 months later]

Myrena had gone to sleep in her usual form. She didn't often change into her dragon form beyond her own interest. That's why the warmth surrounding her didn't startle her, crediting it to be the bundles of blankets around her. It wasn't until she sneezed fire, burning her bed, that she woke up.

Myrena jumped to her forelegs furiously blowing out the fire burning her bed, doing more harm than good. The growing fire made her nervous and she called out to Smaug. While waiting for him, Myrena wished to turn back, but found herself stuck. That made her even more scared and she cried to Smaug.

The ground shook and the wall with the door to her room crashed in, letting a furious Smaug storm in. He whacked his tail against the wall, causing big solid debris to fall on and put out the fire.

"Smaug, help!" Myrena cried, still unable to turn back.

Smaug stood still, folding his wings behind to rest. "I just did."

"Not the fire! I can't shift. Sire me back, I'm stuck." She cried, laying her neck on the floor.

Smaug got up and lined his snout to his mate's.

"I don't suppose your mortal form would accommodate a dragon egg."

Myrena's eyes sparkled and she lifted her head, her joy beyond limit.

"Are... are you serious? Really!?" She pranced around him.

Smaug straightened himself, wings folded and head held proud. But his happiness was not equal his mate's.

"Yes, but I wouldn't celebrate it too much. The first egg is rarely ever fertile."

Myrena snarled at him. "How can you say that so heartlessly?"

"It seems you're heartful enough for the both of us." He commented and began to walk away.

"That may be so, but wouldn't even the magnificent Smaug mourn the loss of his child?" Myrena cornered him and spread her wings, refusing him exit.

Smaug huffed. "Only momentarily, if at all. But then I'd move on."

Myrena was stunned by his answer and Smaug took the opportunity to walk away.

"M... move on? To a better mate?" She began to lay her head again.

Smaug stopped.

"A mate who would give you a..."

"I'd move on, to another offspring." Smaug faced her again.

Myrena would have blushed in her human form. In her dragon form, she let out a sharp keening sound and rubbed her face down his neck. Smaug gave in and smiled, letting her nuzzle against him. The dying fire still sizzled across the room, making it warm, and the warmth around her made Myrena sleepy. She dragged her face down Smaug's body and wrapped her neck around her own settled body, caressing her snout against her stomach. Smaug let out a proud roar and nestled his own face against his mate's, wrapping his huge form protectively around his family, and fell asleep.

The next day on, Myrena continued to build the nest she had already unconsciously started. Her space was in a cave deep in a covered cliff, providing safety for their nest and still plenty space for Myrena to fly through. Smaug's own nest was on the cliff above, providing more security. Myrena would fly out to gather material for the nest, and Smaug even let her have a few pieces from his own so she wouldn't have to fly far.

In the early months, Mynena could fly out and get her own food, her instinct telling her to eat more for her growing egg. Smaug scoffed at her attempts to care for her child. His child. As the egg got heavier within her, things became more difficult for Myrena. She couldn't fly, and Smaug was resilient. She had to attack him with threats and frequent physical harm to send him out to get her food. It upset Myrena that Smaug barely acknowledged the pregnancy. After everything they had been through, what he had put her through, his behavior angered her. His indifference was nothing compared to what came next.

Five months after he'd told her she was pregnant, Myrena struggled and strained, but she laid her first egg. The excitement she felt of her achievement hushed any aches or pains she was feeling. Myrena pranced around the nest, fixing it around the egg to keep it snug and safe. Her biggest threat, unfortunately, was Smaug.

"You've gone insane!" She spat at him, spanning her wings to block his path. "I won't let you harm our child!"

"There is no 'child'," Smaug countered. "It's an empty husk of an egg. The faster you move on from this one," he attempted to fire a torrent at the nest but failed, "the quicker we can move on to the next one!"

Myrena fired back. Literally. "If you harm this one, you will not get more!"

Smaug roared. "You are my sire! You serve me for one purpose only! If you -"

She out him off with a current of fire, amplified by the beating of her wings. "Get out!" She kept attacking until he fell out over the cliff, and had no choice but to fly away.

Myrena planned her last few hunts carefully, never too long to leave her nest unprotected. That was until once she came back to find Smaug rolling the egg over the cliff. She had come back just in time to catch it in her mouth, and flew away with it till Smaug was gone. That night, she wrapped herself around her egg and didn't plan to leave until her egg hatched. She refused Smaug's attempts at peace offerings until she could barely feel any energy left within her, but never left the nest.

It had been the hottest day of the season, and Myrena hadn't left the cave all day. Eventually, thirst got the better of her and she made her mind to go get water. She shifted into her mortal form in hopes of escaping Smaug's eye, and snuck down to the lake. Myrena could have almost drowned by the amount of water she took in. Being in dragon form had left her scaly and dry, not to mention that she never left her cave. With the cave back in her thoughts, Myrena quickly took a singular dip in the water and went back the way she'd come.

She didn't get back quick enough.

Myrena screamed as she saw her egg cracked and ran to it. Even the halved shell was big enough to be just under her hairline, and she couldn't see inside. Her cries and insults at him got Smaug's attention and he broke the cliff to make way for himself in the cave. As soon as the maroon dragon was in her space, Myrena shifted as well and started attacking him.

"How could you!?" She jabbed her wing ends at him, hoping to pierce him. "I've been hoveled up for months for your child, and the minute I step out you break it!"

She was charging at him through her rage, but eventually Smaug roared a torrent of fire at her, distracting her before he launched and pinned her down. "I haven't done anything to your egg! I have been asleep all morning. In case you haven't noticed, it has been hot as Har-" Smaug stopped midway and snapped his gaze to the cave. He left Myrena and soared up to her den, not paying attention as she was on his tail.

Smaug entered the cave rather gently, wiping out the rocky debris with his tail.

"Please! Stop!" Myrena cried, her voice barely coming out.

"Did you actually look inside before you made up your mind to attack me?" Smaug nudged at the upside down shell, his lightest effort causing a crack in it.

Myrena was curious-and hopeful- and civilly came up to stand beside him. Her human nature wanted to reach out and quickly peel off the shell, but Smaug stopped her when she tried to nose at it. She huffed at his behavior, wanting to cry that it wasn't fair he got to do it, but another crack diverted her attention. Myrena watched with immense interest as a little tail whacked at the shell from inside.

Myrena purred in joy and was even happier when she got a pur in return. Now the cracking got more eager, chipping away from the inside until only the top of it remained. The shellhead twisted about as if looking around confused. Myrena laughed and blew the top off, making the little orange reptile fall over.

It quickly got up to its feet and licked its long tongue over its face, cleaning. It opened its eyes and turned its face to try and get a look at the muzzle laying beside it. The little dragon purred again and took a step, but fell under the weight of its own wings. Myrena giggled and scooted her face closer to her son. The new dragon leaned its neck out and nuzzled his mother's much large maw.

"Still want to push him over a cliff?" Myrena asked, and Smaug finally leaned down to meet his kid.

"Hmm, that will happen when he's older," Smaug nuzzled his newborn, then licked his mate's face as he reclined back up and let out a roar. His bellow was met with a cry, and Smaug and Myrena looked down to find a human baby crying on the den floor.

Joyfully, Myrena immediately shifted down to her human form and picked him up. She cradled him in her arms and hugged him to her naked chest. Smaug growled and shifted to join his family.

previous next

[madstwd]

A Future (Part 2)

Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: SMUT, labour and Child birth, mentions of body changes, orgasm denial, riding (minors DNI)

Season: 10

Summary: Continuation of the first part, how does your pregnancy fit in with the threat of the Whispers and Betas herd…Daryl loving the changes to your body after you gave him his greatest wish.

I hope you enjoy the second part! There will be one more based on Season 11 episode 10 but I wanted to write Daryl’s reaction to the readers body and the birth! Thank you for all the support, it really inspires me to keep writing!

Here’s Part 1 for anyone who hasn’t read it! Much love - mads:))

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Daryl's success was now evident because of your swollen stomach, he watched as you helped everyone get on transport to move before Beta brought his herd into Alexandria. The loss of Siddiq and Enid brought great worry to him now; the time for his child to be born was any day now, based on good estimates. He had no idea how he could protect you if things went south, his mind constantly racing. “Hey, I’ve got her okay, no matter what” Negan spoke from beside him. Daryl looked the man up and down, still unsure on how to trust this man but had no other choice. Negan was the only one without a responsibility or another person to worry about. “Just nervous” Daryl muttered, he hated the fact he had left Negan to protect you, he wanted to be there for you. But he was also needed here, or scouting the area not only for others safety but for yours and his child’s. “That’s understandable, but I care for her too. I won't let anything happen to her '' Negan added, their gazes focused on you. Daryl nodded at the man beside him, before making his way over to you.

“Hey” you smiled at him. He gave you a tight lipped one back, you could feel the worry flowing off him. “I’ll be alright, we both will” you smiled at him. He was amazed at how calm you were, putting trust into a man like Negan, a man who took away tw of your closest friends and tortured your lover. “Daryl, your stressing out will stress me out by worrying about you. I’m going to be fine. At the end of the day we can traumatise Negan with a birth” you laughed. Daryl did not seem to match your enthusiasm. “You need me, you radio me. Okay” he said, his infamous scowl plastered over his face. Your smile faded but you nodded. “Don’t leave his side okay, just in case” Daryl added. You nodded to the man, your humour fading. He didn't mean to bring your hopeful mood away, you knew your child was close to being born. You were there during Lori’s birth of Judith and you knew he was worried for the same outcome, this wasn’t just his first child it was yours. “I promise you're okay” you said. He nodded and kissed your forehead. He helped you get up onto the carriage like you had done with everyone else, Negan sitting next to you. Daryl watched as you both rode the first trailer to the tower.

The tower stank of cat piss, and the sound of the herd outside didn't do anything to calm your nerves. Dog sat beside you, instructed by Daryl to do so. Negan hovering by the or listening to the plan they were forming. When he turned you watched his face etch with worry, he knelt down to your seated position. “They need to go through the herd. Daryls going through with eh others” he said. You nodded, worry forming in your brain. You tried to keep calm and tried not to stress yourself out but it wasn’t working. Negan was beginning to get worried about you, the situation was beginning to stress you out more. “I’ll go and find him for you before he leaves alright.” He said, softly trolling your shoulder. You nodded wordlessly, and watched him leave the room. You silently started to work through what you figured was your first contraction, hoping they were far enough apart that Daryl wouldn’t notice as he said goodbye.

Your beloved walked through the door, his eyes observing you before pulling you in close. “I’ve got to go through the herd and lead them away okay” he said, giving you a tender kiss to your temple. “I'll be alright, got my nurse and body guard with me” you joked. Daryl smiled softly. He gave you a passionate kiss before lowering down to your stomach. “Hey kid, stay in there for a little bit longer okay. Daddy’s going to be back real soon” he whispered before placing a kiss on your stomach. You nodded at him as he turned to leave, glancing back one last time. Once he left the room and was sure he had walked far enough away. You swiftly turned to Negan. “So um we have a problem” you panicked. Negan's large grin fell, his eyes filling with panic and worry.

Thankfully an evacuation was being planned and it was requested that you and Negan went first, giving you the chance to get to a small cabin. You wanted to stay and help with the others but in the long run they would understand. Your contractions were extremely close together the only thing stopping the baby was your water not having broken yet. Negan had the bag strapped tightly on his back that had baby clothes and clean sheets in case something like this happened. “Come on in here” he said trying to catch his breath. You gasped in pain and your eyes widened at the feeling of liquid rushing down your legs. “Shit…okay now come on, lay down. You'll have to guide me in this okay” he panicked. You nodded, “4 fingers is 10cm dialated, meaning I need to push now” you groaned as another contraction hit you. Negan nodded, following your instructions” it's 10, let's do this” he grinned. You weakly smiled back, before nodding your head.

Thankfully your birth went well, most of the walkers being led away allowed you to be able to express your pain and current hatred for Daryl wanting this in the first place at a moderate volume. You both waited a while allowing you to rest and feed the baby before taking the trek back to Alexandria before it got dark. Negan helped you strap your child to your chest as tightly as he could without hurting either of you, and you leant on him for support, still extremely sore from the birth. You felt like a superhero having to be up on the move in just over an hour after giving birth. But right now all you wanted was sleep and Daryl. “Come on we are almost there. You are officially the most badass person I've met” Negan laughed. You smiled at him, “I know,” you replied tiredly. Your smile grew as you saw the familiar figure of your lover prowling outside the gates waiting for your return. Tears fell from your eyes as you instructed Negan to allow you to hold the child frantically trying to pull at the muslin strapped around your upper body. Daryl must have heard the slight cries of the child as his head snapped in your direction, a weight lifting off his chest as he could see Negan and you approaching. He practically sprinted towards the both of you, enveloping you into a tight hug. “I thought I lost you” he whispered into your hair. “We got held up” you said in reply, smiling at him. Daryl pulled away and looked into your arms. Laying there was the most beautiful girl he had seen. You knew instantly she had her dad wrapped around her finger. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he looked at the child who began to softly whimper. “You should see her eyes, they are exactly like yours” Negan laughed. Daryl turned to him before thanking him, he kept his promise and Daryl owed him. “Come on, I'm so tired” you groaned, wanting nothing more than to lay down. You slowly held out the child to him, he looked at you shocked, almost worried he might break her. “It's okay, you're going to hurt her. See she's asleep” you said as you gently placed the girl in his arms. Daryl didn't respond, only stared at the little girl in his arms.

A few months had past, your girl was crawling all over the place. You both agreed on the name Athene, a strong name for a soon to be strong Dixon. With the speed she was crawling you had no doubt she would be able to get away from walkers. You heard the door open, and in walked your husband, both deciding to use those titles now even if it wasn't official. “Hey how was the meeting?” you called out to him, as you chased after your daughter. “Maggie said her old community was nearby. We are going to go and try to steal the food back. It's more than enough” he said. You nodded slowly. “Shouldn't be too long, those guys are going to be a problem though so it might take a few weeks..are ya gonna be alright on ya own?” He asked. You nodded “yeah we will be,” you said smiling at the child who was instantly at her dad's feet. He smiled down at her, before picking her up. “You could put her down for a nap? I was trying to tire her out” you laughed and winked. Daryl's eyes widened before running to the girls bedroom to put her to sleep. You smiled at the stripping yourself from the T-shirt and jeans into a small lace bodysuit. You were still insecure about your mum bod but Rosita told you to be sexy and gave you the sheer piece of fabric.

You laid anxiously on the bed waiting for his return, playing with the end of your hair. You heard his footsteps come to an abrupt stop, and saw him standing at the door way, his eyes scanning every inch of your lace covered body. Watching your chest move with every breath you took, fascinated by your new body. You smiled softly at his face, his mouth slightly agape. If there’s one thing you knew it was this man would love you and your body until he physically couldn’t anymore. His fingers slowly reached towards his vest buttons as he moved towards the end of the bed. His eyes scanning over your body, your own eyes drifting all over his noticing his cock strain against the fabric of his jeans. You felt yourself grow even more turned on as you watched him remove his vest in one tug, his biceps bulging as his arms worked to remove the item of clothing. His shirt is straining against his chest. Neither of you were saying anything but you didn't care, you could feel the tension, his desire for you. You could hear his boots drop to the floor as he pried them off, his hands working on his belt buckle. You got up on your knees before you began to crawl across the bed to him, your breasts swaying, your suit cupping them perfectly. He stopped to watch you approach him, his eyes glued to them. You smiled at him as he jumped slightly when your fingers lightly grazed over his imprisoned cock. A soft groan left his lips, his body flinching away slightly from the sudden contact. You bought your face to his height and stared into his eyes, neither of you have had the chance to get intimate like this since the Arrival of Athena, so you were reminding each other of your love. The bond you both shared over the many years since the camp at the quarry. How your body’s were littered with new scars and marks. Your small pouch of fat that was the lasting reminder that your body created and held life, the stretch marks showing the journey it went through. Daryl loved it, seeing how beautiful you looked after holding his child, your hips slightly wider, your breasts a few sizes bigger. The curves in the lace danced around every part he loved, making him practically melt at the sight of you.

You bought him into a tender kiss, fingers weaving their way through his knotted hair pulling him closer. His hands landed on your thighs, toying with the fabric that decorated them, itching to strip it from your body. You gently pulled him as you began to move your way to the top of the bed. Your legs spread for him eagerly as your back hit the soft sheets below you. Your fingers began to work the buttons of his shirt as he left kisses all over your Collar bone, leaving small marks as he went from one side to the other. Your fingers brushing his shoulder , the action no longer making him tense but love you more, the bad memories of the scars on his back long forgotten. “Ya so fucking beautiful” he groaned against your ear, nippling on it slightly. You gasped as you felt his fingers slowly slip the thing straps off your shoulder, leaving goosebumps down your arms. Your body is so needy and sensitive to his touch. His fingers continued down your waist, you lifted your hips as he removed the rest of the lace, throwing it far across the room. He hovered over you, his lips attaching themselves to your breasts, kissing and nipping at them as his hands worked to free himself from his jeans. You watched him as he fumbled around, surprised to see his cock before underwear. “Going commando today?” You laughed. He blushed, shook his head slightly to hide underneath his hair. “Hadn’t washed any new ones, wasn’t expecting ya to pull this” he replied. You giggled before slowly lifting your hips. His tip stroked the wetness of his folds and you gasped at the feeling of his zip against you. His eyes darkened as he removed the rest of the jeans. Both of you staring at each other’s exposed bodies. You watched as his cock twitched, wondering what he was thinking about as he gazed over your body.

He placed himself at your entrance waiting for your signal to enter you. He was still so gentle even months after you giving birth, not wanting to hurt you or push you too far . You lifted your hips slightly giving him the signal you were ready. You felt a slight burn as he spread you, slowly inching himself inside. He was watching your face intently which was contorted in pain and pleasure. One hand gripped the soft flesh on your hips, the other drawing circles around your clit. The sudden attention causing you to squirm underneath him, he smirked as he slowly thrusted into you. Thinking back to the night where you both created your child, the passion and need. The idea of solidifying a future with you. His speed picked up thinking about it, his eyes gazing over your new body, how despite everything you were with him. You whimpered at his speed, slowly becoming a moaning mess with the pleasure he was giving you. “Come on girl, give it to me” he groaned. You nodded desperately, moaning louder as he picked up, both of his hands now on your hips, holding them tightly as he brought you to him with every thrust. He groaned at the sight of your breasts moving as he thrusted into you. Tears brimming at the sides of your eyes as you were getting closer to your own release. You whined when he suddenly pulled out of you, the feeling lost. “Come ‘ere” he groaned, helping you to your knees. He moved around you leaning against the headboard of the bed, his eyes flicking between you and his cock. You slowly crawled over. Positioning yourself, you lowered yourself on it, starting at a quick pace. “Shit sunshine ya really mad at me aren’t ya” he laughed. You focused on your own release, playing with one of your now larger breasts and clit as you moved yourself up and down his length. Daryl loved watching your body move against his, your face covered in pleasure but also determined to have your release before he got the chance to take it away. When your thrusts became slow and sloppy he grabbed your hips helping you finally reach your climax. Your walls milkin this own cock, squeezing the length desperate for his release. He groaned, trying to hold himself until you came first. “Come on sunshine, finish for me” he groaned, that’s you needed before you collapsed against his chest, moaning and whimpering. This pushed him to his own release, he groaned loudly as he thrusted inside you, his cock spilling everything he had for you.

Both of you laid there in each other’s embrace. Enjoying the company and being thankful that you had each other. Soft cries were heard from your daughter causing your head to shoot up off his chest. You wordlessly cleaned yourself up and slipped on Daryl's shirt before wandering out the door to respond to her. Daryl laid there listening to your soft hums trying to get her back to sleep, he smiled softly to himself. Since that day she was born he regretted not being able to be there for you, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest seeing Negan and you slowly come out of the tree line holding her. He never thought of himself to be a father but he was excited to see how he would adapt to this new life, to seeing his small girl grow up. He would die before anything happened to her or you. Needing both of you to keep himself sane. The future he needed, and he couldn’t wait for it.

[tsunderedoctor]

I just really wanna write Law with kids, like you have no idea how much this clouds my mind daily-

tw/cw; children/kids/tiny adults, mentions of afab reader

Law doesn't mind kids, he personally envies their ability to think with such innocence and positivity. It makes him wonder if he was ever like that once, was he so full of love and hope in the world?

Whenever a child interacts with the tall man, he finds himself at loss for words. His usual sharp tongue is now docile and he feels the need to not be the one to ruin such naivety.

He remembers the time he met a klutzy blond boy, how his bangs hid his eyes and he proudly admitted his faults. he wondered if life decided to grant him a chance to protect the idea of Cora-san in his mind. So, he did.

When he saved the children from Punk Hazard, he strongly recalled a small girl with pigtails handing him a flower, how she resembled his sister so perfectly was disgustingly sweet. Despite acting like he didn't care and walked away from the child, he kept his eye on her until the children made it to safety.

Children especially loved Bepo, much to the bear's confusion, they would run up to him and ask to touch him. Of course, the bear bashfully refused, but Law always found the need to nod his head, giving the kids approval to pet the shy mink.

The first time he heard the news of your pregnancy, was terrifying. He swore he did everything perfectly, and he debated shipping you away to some island, away from any threats he caused. Though your persuasion held him back, for now anyway.

Then came the "am I good enough" phase. You would think a doctor who understood everything about the human body would know this was just a phase, but he refused to believe it. You prayed your child wouldn't gain his stubbornness.

Seeing his child crying, covered in blood as he cleaned the babe up was as if he was on a whole new high. Was this really how his father felt about him and his sister? Feeling someone take the child away for a minute, the man just cried. Was this really what happiness felt like?

He might not be the best father, nothing like his own, but he tries, and damn it, it's amazing. The once monotone and gruff man was now a soft encouraging parent. It almost didn't fit him how well he pulled it off, the soft smiles, the way his eyes watched to make sure the child was safe, it truly amazed you.

Law really does admire children, they have something he would never have, but it doesn't mean he hates them.

[mhysa-leesi]

ᗷEᗯᗩᖇE TᕼE ᗯᕼITE ᗯOᒪᖴ

Pairing: Dark Viking!Bucky Barnes 𝒳 (femme) Reader ⚔.

Summary: "In an attempt to help pay off his many debts, your father makes a deal with a ruthless chieftain. When he is unable to hold up his end of the deal, the White Wolf comes to collect his prize."

Word Count: 4,951 (this is a longer one, babes, sowwy.)

TW: Non-Con, VERY Dub-Con, Smut, Loss of Virginity, Slight Breeding Kink (if you squint), Exhibitionism, "Forced" Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, (Inaccurate) Viking Themes, Mentions of Side Characters (Steve, Natasha), Use of Threats, EXTREME Physical Violence (I'm so sorry, Natasha bby I love you), Strong Language, and Questionable Old Norse (Beiskaldi=Bitch, I think), (Kisa=Kitten/Kitty), (Húsbóndi=Husband), (Kona=Wife), (Frue=Lady). 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: *Sigh* here is another self-indulgent and unscheduled Bucky fic for yall... Enjoy! ;) **ALL GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES ARE MY OWN.

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. If you'd like to join my permanent taglist to stay updated on new and upcoming fics, please fill out this Google Form. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

Wands of reaching branches became dancing shadows in the moonlight as a cool night breeze blew in from the north. In the dead of night, along the starlit horizon and through the tangle, was flickering flamelight. In that growing light a silhouette of a man on horseback took shape from the shadows. He rode upon a stallion as black as the shadowy darkness that shrouded him, with a mane like spun silver under the starlight. The stirrups and bridle were inlaid with silver and gold.

Holding the horse’s reins was a man with dark hair on his head and stubbled chin. His blue eyes were smeared with black kohl and he wore an axe at his side and smelled of tobacco leaves, and cinnamon. The man dismounted, his cloak of snowy wolf’s pelt billowing around him as he came down. There was a sudden stillness, then. The dark, shadowed woods stood as noble warriors in the chieftain’s presence, and the amber and crimson leaves fell to his feet without so much as a whisper.

Your father bowed, kneeling before the chieftain until his beard touched the moonlit earth, “Thank you for meeting me this night, Chieftain.”

The path that your father led them down was bestrewed with fallen leaves of gold and deep green that rustled with life in the gentle wind. They moved silently across the sloping fields, silvered with moonlight to a dark wooden-walled cottage with carved furniture, and a firelit hearth. Bucky, the jarl, sat at the head of the table, with Steve, his guard, alongside him. The two men ate on goat’s cheese and stale bread with honey, and drank bitter ale until their bellies were full and satisfied. Your father stood beside the fireside on shaking legs, his walking stick tight in his grasp as he served the two Vikings.

“This meal was pathetic, Halfdan,” said Bucky as he swigged the last of the bitter ale.

Your father bowed his head to the jarl, “It is all my family and I can afford, my Jarl.”

Bucky sucked his teeth, “And that was what you wanted to discuss. What you can and cannot afford, hm?”

“Yes, my Jarl,”

“Then speak,” Bucky lazed.

Your father shifted his weight onto his stick as he poured the men another goblet of ale.

“I was injured during the Battle of Iyg many winters ago, and my leg hasn’t been the same since,” he began, “I’m a farmer, you see, and farmer’s need their legs to do good work. I cannot tend to my crops with one good leg, and if I cannot tend to my crops come time for harvest, I cannot repay the debts I owe.”

“And what of your family? Have you no sons? Thralls?” Steve asked from his seat with a quirked brow.

“No, I have no sons, and I cannot afford a thrall,” your father said, “I have only two daughters, and they can only do so much to help me.”

Your father paused as he looked to Bucky. His eyes were hard as he watched the flicking flames without expression, but his eyes followed the flame’s dance.

“What’s your proposal, bonde? I’m growing bored,” Bucky grumbled out.

Your father hung his head in shame as he spoke, “As I said, I have two daughters. If I cannot repay your debts, you can take one… O–or both, if you so desire.”

Bucky looked away from the flames, then. Your father shrunk under his gaze, shifting uncomfortably as Bucky intriguingly considered his offer. He tossed down a pouch of gold coin at him, “You have a deal.”

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Winter arrived on an icy wind. The rivers ran still under sheets of thin ice, and wintry twigs twisted as they bore ornamented crystals, and the once lush green fields were now sparkled with frost that cracked and crunched underfoot. Snow fell softly from a pearl grey sky, landing on your eyelashes as they pirouetted down without a breeze. The air was frozen lace latticed on your lungs as you breathed in the wintry morning air. Snowflakes kicked up in clouds of glittering ice as you ran among the naked winter trees, laughing as you and your sister raced through the drifts.

“Last one home has to shovel horse shit!” you yelled over your shoulder as you pumped your legs harder.

“Hope you like the smell!” your sister shouted back as she hurled a snowball your way.

The ball of snow hit the tree just beside you, “You dirty cheater!”

You ducked and dodged as your sister kept on her barrage of snowballs, never relenting her attack. Your laughter echoed throughout the morning as you came up the slope that led to your home. You shot down the path that was glittered with white, fresh snow, and leaped through the threshold of the front fence. You laughed triumphantly as you looked back at your sister, who was panting with her hands on her knees.

“I want a rematch,” she panted.

“I didn’t know you were such a sore loser Gro,” you said handing her the shovel, “Maybe I’ll let you win next time.”

“Beiskaldi,”

You feigned a hurt gasp, “I’ll tell father.”

Your sister scowled at you as she snatched the shovel from your frozen hands, grumbling as she stomped down to the stables. You went inside, kissed your father on the cheek and began your evening chore of preparing supper. You shelled the peas and boiled the stew and cabbage. The sun was beginning to set below the horizon when you finished cooking. You and your sister set the table as your father tended to the hearth.

You all supped your split pea soup in comfortable silence as the fire crackled on. You and your sister made faces at one another as you ate, challenging each other to keep your laughs in. You were about to crack when a loud knocking at the door startled you. Your sister’s face dropped as she looked out the window. You turned and saw a group of men dressed in furs, adorned with silver and iron.

“Stay here,” your father said as he struggled to his feet, his walking stick in hand as he went out to meet the men.

“Who do you think those men are?” you asked your sister as you both squished together to watch through the small window.

Your older sister frowned, “Probably debt collectors, you know how father is.”

You mirrored her frown as one of the men locked eyes with yours. Your heart began to pound as you watched your father drop to his knees for a man dressed in white furs, he was begging, and on the verge of tears. Gro, your older sister, pulled you from the window and behind her as a blonde man barged into your home. You couldn’t help the yelp that left you as he dragged you and your sister out into the snow. Above, the light of the full moon silvered the smoothed the harsh edges of the land, softening the hard features of the men before you.

“Father?” your sister spoke thickly through her tightening throat.

You pulled your sister closer by her arm as your father avoided her tearful gaze. The snow fell around you silently, dropping from the night sky like falling stars. Your breaths came out in puffs as you breathed in the icy air, your teeth chattering as the wintry bite tore through your thin tunic. Your eyes landed on the only man still mounted, his black stallion stomping the snow as streams of clouded breath left its flared nostrils. He caught your wandering eyes and dismounted with a softened thud.

Your sister hugged you tighter as the man in white wolf’s fur came closer, his icy blue eyes striking against the black kohl.

“Please,” your father begged once more, “I–I can pay. Next harvest season--I’ll pay you double--triple!”

The man stopped before you and your sister, looming down on your shivering forms. He turned and glared at your father, “We had a deal, Halfdan. You missed not only one, but two payments. Now,” he turned back to you and your sister, “I’ve come to collect.”

Your heart sank as you made sense of his words. It couldn’t be true, your father would never make such a deal… Would he?

Your sister gasped as she was pulled from you. The man looked down his nose at her, making a face as he shoved her away, “That one smells of horse shit.”

You froze as he made his way toward you. You wanted to run, to hide, but your body was ice. He stopped in front of you without a word. He touched you, then; moving wild strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear. You stiffened as you felt his fingers brush down your cheek to your lips, gently caressing the soft skin of your lower lip as he tilted your chin up.

He looked into your eyes for a moment before releasing you. You stood confused as he remounted his midnight-colored steed.

“Take her,” he commanded. Those words--just those two words were enough to ignite chaos.

Your sister fought against the men as they grabbed you. You sputtered and screamed for your father, begging him to rescue you, to not let these men take you away. You beat against the back of the blonde man as he threw you over his shoulder.

“Papa!” you cried. Your father limped after you, his heart shattering as the endearment echoed throughout the night. You hadn’t called him that since you were a girl. Now, as a woman, he was watching you being taken away from him. You reached out for him as he got closer, praying to the gods you’d be able to take his hand.

You cried out as your father stumbled and tripped in the snow, his walking stick flying from his hands. Your sister dropped next to your father, helping him to his feet. She looked at you with tears streaking down her cheeks. The blonde man set you atop the White Wolf’s horse and that was the last you saw of your family. You’d forever remember the look of mourning in your sister’s eyes as she and your father were forced to watch you being taken away.

He held you close to him as you rode toward the outskirts of your village. You traveled for hours until a warm firelight came into view from the darkness. You felt hands roam your waist, pressing your hips flush against his. You squirmed in his grasp, wanting to fall from the horse rather than be subjected to his wandering hands; but instead of letting you go, he held you tighter. He breathed in your scent, his lips against your neck as he husked in your ear.

“You smell of sugared cranberries,” he said and you shivered as his warm breath tickled your neck. His hands reached up to cup your breasts, roughly pinching your hardened nipples from the cold. You wriggled against him, stopping when you felt his hardness grind into you. Arms snaked around your waist to keep you from escaping, you panicked as you felt his hand dip under the band of your skirt, cupping your sex with rough hands. He touched places that had you mewling, your face burning with shame as you rocked your hips into his hand.

He kept fueling that fire deep within your belly, humming in your ear as he coaxed the quietest of whimpers from you. Unfamiliar voices snapped you out of your pleasure, then. Your eyes snapped open and you clawed at his hands that were touching up your body. He hissed as you dug your nails into him, laughing as he easily wretched your hands away.

“You fight like a little kitten,” he taunted.

He dismounted as you rode through tall, torchlit gates; hauling you down with him. You pulled against his grasp, digging your heels into the snow as you fought. The men that had traveled with you all laughed at your feeble attempts to escape the man with the white wolf’s fur.

“You’ve always picked the feisty ones, Bucky,” said the blonde man as he stalked toward you, “This little kisa will be fun to tame,” he pinched your winter-bitten cheek and smirked as your lip began to tremble.

The man who held you by your arm, Bucky, grumbled a response that was lost on your ears as you looked around your new surroundings. You wanted to go home. You tried to tug your arm from his grasp in vain as he began to drag you toward his lodge. You were desperate, so desperate for rescue you started to scream for help. You felt stupid as you looked at the faces of the other villagers--his villagers.

Bucky threw you onto his bed of soft furs. You scooted back, kicking your legs at him, as he made way toward you. He caught your ankles and dragged you down to him, trapping your kicking legs under his as he began to tear away the laces of your tunic. You slapped, clawed, and punched at his hands as he fought to undress you. You caught his hand and bit down on him, sinking your teeth deeper and deeper, refusing to let go of your hold on him.

He ripped his hand from your mouth and glared down at you with fire in his blue eyes. He slapped you across your cheek hard enough to hurt and shock you. You lay there, your eyes and cheek burning as you swallowed thickly. You refused to cry in front of him. You were not some little kitten.

You fought harder as your legs were spread around him, your cunt exposed to him as he snatched up your skirts. You flail wildly, then. Your hands pushing and blindly hitting. In your chaotic struggle you punched him, landing a swift blow to his nose. He eased off you for a moment as he flinched back in surprise.

You jumped off the bed and grabbed a nearby axe that rested against the wall, pointing it toward him. Bucky checked his fingers for blood, laughing as they came back clean.

“Steve was right, kisa. I’m going to have so much fun taming you,” he said with dark eyes, “No matter, I’ve always liked it rough.”

You snarled at him, gripping the axe tighter as he stood, “I will not be tamed by the likes of you.”

His eyebrow quirked and mouth opened to reply, but closed it as the door swung open. A beautiful woman with flaming hair stormed in, stopping short as she looked at you.

“Húsbóndi, what is the meaning of this?” she growled. He ignored her as he snatched the axe from your weak and inexperienced grip, tossing it aside as he grabbed you by your wrists, “Bucky.”

He dragged you back to the bed and forced you to kneel on the furs before him. He ran his fingers over your bottom lip again, forcing you to wrap them around his thumb. You bit down, then. Glaring up at him as he hissed down at you.

“How dare you embarrass me this way?”

He looked at her, then. A dangerous darkness brewing in his icy eyes, “It is you who embarrasses me, Kona. Two winters have passed and a third one comes, and you have still yet to be with a child.”

The woman’s angry scowl fell, “I have tried--I am still trying.”

He looked back down at you, forcing your chin up to look into his eyes, “Perhaps the gods never intended for you to carry my child.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the woman--his wife sputtered. She tugged on his arms as she pleaded with him to stop, to let her try again. Bucky pushed her off him and angrily rounded on her, you gasped as he slapped her, just as he had slapped you. She fell to her knees as she held her reddening cheek, tears glossing her eyes as she trembled before him. He looked down at her with a scowl.

“You will watch, Natasha. You will watch how a real woman takes my seed, and you will watch as she takes your place,” he growled. Bucky turned back to you, “And if the gods will it, my little kisa will bless me with a son.”

He grabbed you, then. Forcing you onto your back as he straddles you, holding your wrists above your head with one hand as he undresses you with the other. Natasha, his wife, tries to stop him. Once again tugging on his arms and shoulders, pleading with her husband to let her take your place as his wife. He calls for someone, and your heart sinks as you see the blonde man enter the room.

“Steve, make sure my wife’s eyes never leave us. And if she looks away, cut an eye out,”

Both you and Natasha begin to sob at his cruel words. Steve stood by Natasha, holding her by her fiery hair to force her eyes on you and her husband. You pushed against Bucky’s chest as he rid you of your clothes, and he stopped to whisper in your ear.

“If you resist me, kisa, I will cut out more than her eyes,” he threatened, “Or perhaps I’ll cut out your sister’s eyes rather? I can’t recall if they were the same color as yours or not. Maybe I should have Steve bring them to me, so that I may remember, hm?”

You shook your head as you fought back your tears.

“Then you’ll promise to be a good little kisa for me?” he husked as he trailed his lips down your neck.

“Yes, I promise…” you whimpered.

“Good girl,”

Your fight stopped as the thought of your sister kept you still and obedient. Bucky’s lips kissed up your neck and throat until he finally found your lips. You were still, at first, never having been kissed before, but you feared he’d be unpleased with you, so you mirrored his movements the best you could. His hands held the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, trying to build a forced connection with his lips and tongue. You let him explore your mouth as you tentatively explored his.

The kiss left you breathless as he pulled away from your lips to kiss down your body. He stopped at your breasts, taking one in each hand and squeezing.

“Soon, these will be swollen with milk,” he said. You swallowed and looked at the ceiling, wishing you were home.

You gasped as you felt his tongue twist around your nipple. He looked up at you with eyes that were all lust-blown pupils. You watched as he took your breast into his mouth, suckling. His hands roamed your body as he bit and sucked on your breasts, and you couldn’t help the sigh that left you as his tongue flicked and swirled around your hardened peaks. His mouth left your chest and roughly nibbled and kissed down to your navel.

He stopped to nip along your hip bones, then. Kissing dangerously close to your most intimate part. You tensed as you felt his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs to reveal your cunt to him. Your eyes fluttered as your eyelashes wetted with unshed tears and you bit down on your lip to keep yourself quiet as you felt him lick up your sex. Your breathing changed as Bucky flattened and flexed his tongue against you.

Your hands found their way to his hair, pulling as he tongued through your folds. Your eyes drifted to the corner of the room where Steve and Natasha sat. You pushed Bucky’s head away, embarrassed and full of shame as Natasha blinked away tears, her face emotionless. Bucky took your hands from his head and held them against the furs, entwining his fingers with yours as he continued to taste you. You writhed under him as he flicked and circled your clit, fast then slow, rough then softly.

You hated to admit it to yourself, but it felt good. You moaned as you arched into his mouth, your breath and heart skipping as he tongued your entrance. Bucky locked eyes with you as he licked a long, firm stripe up from your taint to circle your clit. The feel of him sparked something deep within your belly that made you cry out in ecstasy. You shook against him uncontrollably as that spark in your belly exploded.

Bucky shed himself of his tunic and took your hand in his as he kneeled above you, resting your hand on the front of his trousers. He rubbed himself with your hand and guided you to his laces.

“Take my cock out,” he told you.

Your eyes went wide and you looked to Natasha who’s stony facade was beginning to crack. Her jaw was ticked and her eyebrows twitched with emotion. Steve yanked her hair and forced her head straight. You didn’t miss the quick glare she shot at you.

“Don’t look at her, look at me,” Bucky said, and you looked back at him.

With shaky hands you undid the laces and let his trousers fall loose on his hips. You looked up at him again, unsure of what to do next. He looked down at you expectantly, and you swallowed nervously. You reached into the front of his trousers and hesitantly took out his hard cock. He held his hand over yours, squeezing, as he made you stroke him.

You watched your hand move up and down his shaft, your core fluttering as you listened to him hiss and groan above you. He stopped, releasing your hand as he shifted down the furs and between your legs. You felt the tip of his cock prod along your entrance and you panicked. You had known his intentions, but feeling him down there, was something you couldn’t mentally prepare for. You pushed against him and he pushed against you, but he was so much stronger than you were.

Tears stung your eyes as you felt his intrusion. You were wet for him--he had made sure of that, but you weren’t ready for the unfamiliar pressure of him entering you. Bucky pushed himself deep within your cunt, forcing himself past your barrier with a hard thrust. He moaned above you as he felt your tightness clenching around him. You whimpered as he began to languidly hump into you.

“Gods, you were made to take me,” he moaned as his hips snapped forward.

The pain melted to pleasure as Bucky reached new depths of your body. He wrapped your legs around his waist and angled your hips upward. You moaned underneath him as he kneaded your clit with his thumb in perfect time with his hard thrusts. You let yourself fall limp, no longer tense and unwelcoming. With every thrust he gave, you welcomed yourself to him, your cunt clenching around him as if to keep him buried within you.

“Open your eyes!” your eyes snapped open as the loud voice boomed above the noise of your and Bucky’s coupling. Bucky began to thrust harder and faster into you, setting a pace that had you yelping in pain and pleasure. In the corner of the room, Natasha, with closed eyes, fought against Steve as he yanked her by her fiery hair. The sounds of skin against skin, of your sloshing wet cunt around Bucky’s cock as he fucked you hard, would never have been loud enough to drown out the sounds of Natasha’s pained scream. Your face paled and your stomach hurled as you watched Steve pull a dagger from its sheath.

You fought against him, then. Scratching and slapping at him as her screams rang in your ears. You cried as you saw the blood flood from her empty socket. Bucky took hold of you by your neck and forced you to look at him.

“That will be your sister if you continue to deny me, kisa,” he warned, his strong, hard thrusts accentuating his every word. You sobbed and forced your body to go limp around him once more.

Bucky pulled back and thrust into you even harder this time, making you scream. His eyes met yours as he rutted into you like a wild animal. He bared his teeth as he fucked into you faster and faster, his grunts and moans growing louder with each thrust of his cock. You whined and moaned as you rocked against the furs as Bucky pounded into your cunt. And you felt that familiar build from within, that beginning spark that threatened to ignite a firestorm of exploding pleasure.

In a blur of color you were flipped as Bucky held you atop his lap, positioning you above him. He entered you again from below in one strong, hard, fluid thrust. Your breasts bounced with every thrust as you jounced on his cock. The new angle had you moaning and mewling as he rhythmically fucked you. You rode him as if he were a wild stallion, and you didn’t want to stop--you were close, too close to care.

Bucky’s pants soon turned to low moans as you bounced on him, meeting his thrusts with your own. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips as you forced yourself down onto him harder and faster.

“That’s it, kisa, ride your jarl,” he groaned through gritted teeth, “I’m going to fill you with my seed. I’m going to fuck an heir into you, and I’ll keep fucking you even then. You’ll never be without my seed in your tight cunt.”

Your body convulsed as you came, moaning lustily as you did. Underneath you, Bucky’s thrusts stuttered as he came with a howl. He kept his hips thrusting lazily as you both calmed from your erupting pleasure. Bucky flipped you again, caging you under his strong body. He pulled his cock from your pussy and pushed his leaking seed back inside of you with his fingers.

He fucked you three more times that night, each time coming deep inside of you with a lusted howl.

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

Four weeks have passed since your first night with Bucky. Lying with him had become easier, you quickly learned how to please him and he you. In those short days since then, you had wed him and you were now recognized by his village as his kona. Natasha was no longer his wife as he reduced her to nothing but a servant to be passed around his men. You were still getting used to it all, the fancy silks and furs, the gold, and the silver jewelry.

But it was more than a poor farm girl could ask for, you had no right to complain about the life forced upon you--at least that’s what you told yourself every night as Bucky fucked you against the furs.

“Frue (Y/N)?” a soft voice called.

You came out of your head and looked to the woman, Yrsa, your servant, “I’m sorry?”

The water of your bath was scalding hot with cranberry oils, as you liked it. Yrsa washed your hair with the sweet scented oil.

“I asked if you’d like your supper to be brought to you,”

You frowned at the thought of food, “No, thank you. I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“The jarl will not be pleased, my Frue. A full moon has since passed since your last supper,”

“I nor my husband can force my appetite,” you sighed as she brushed through your tangled hair.

Bucky came into the room, then, bringing the winter cold in with him. The white fur of his cloak thick around his neck. You stood, the water dripping from your body as Yrsa dried you. Bucky eyed your naked body hungrily as he disrobed. You locked eyes with your husband as you stepped from the bath and into a thin cotton tunic.

“No,” Bucky spoke, “I want you undressed.”

You let the fabric fall to your ankles, the glow of the firelight bathing you in fiery gold. Yrsa moved your hair back as she rubbed oils down your arms. Bucky licked his lips as he eyed your breasts. Yrsa brushed the soft swell of your stomach as she oiled you and said,

“Frue, you are with child,”

Bucky stood over you, his eyes blackened and intense, fierce pride and lust. You touched the swell of your belly and your heart dropped. His hand rested atop of yours as he looked upon your swollen breasts and the growing curve of your belly. You felt the hardness of his manhood pressing against your thigh.

“The gods have blessed us,” he said against your hair, “Leave us.”

Yrsa bowed her head and ducked out of the room. You knew what your husband wanted as you unlaced him. He bent you over the bed and you balled the furs in your fists as he thrust himself inside of you.

“Let us pray you birth me a son, kisa,” he husked. You moaned as he fucked into you with wild lust-driven desire. Bucky gripped you by your hips as his hips quickened, his cock pounding into you harder and harder in the moment of his erupting pleasure. His seed filled you and trickled down the soft insides of your tender thighs. Bucky kissed along your shoulders as he rubbed your stomach almost lovingly.

Your eyes glossed with tears as you thought back to your family. You had always thought your sister would’ve been the first to have a child, yet here you were… Carrying the White Wolf’s heir.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi, @kuranes-12, @syrenavenger, @thehuntresswolf, @kriegersimp, @haleyheart0197

[sinfulcries]

ANIMA SOLA — YACHI X MALE READER

author’s notes. OH EM GEE i’m gonna pee myself at this point im just experimenting wifh my banners bc tumblr likes to bully me smh </3 anyways this is my first posted collab piece hope you guys enjoy! to see the other amazing sinfulhub collab pieces and authors, click here.

tw. blackmail, corruption, sacrilege, size difference, forced impregnation, virginity loss, noncon, monster fucking (reader's a demon), double penetration, stomach bulge, pregnancy threats, mind break, manhandling, 1 pussy slap (wc: 1.6k / @hqintheclub)

Yachi Hitoka was a devoted woman. Her faith in Christ unwavering as she continued to serve and praise the Lord each and every day. Maybe her innocence was what made you so interested in her. The church was one unsafe place, despite how holy pastors and nuns make the establishment out to be, and fellow demons like yourself, loved to toy with some of them-- watch as they’d frantically cleanse and pray some memorized prayer whenever you made your presence known.

You were an unholy being who loved nothing more but chaos, and Yachi Hitoka was the perfect little girl for you to corrupt. You thrived off of the fear, the way she’d squeak and squirm like an innocent bunny. And a powerful succubus like you wouldn’t let the opportunity to fuck her against her will slip away from your grasp.

As soon as hitoka arrived at her dormitory, she could already feel your strong presence looming over her small figure, waiting for the right moment to pounce. She could feel her limbs shaking with fear, a rosary in her small hand as she started to recite the hail Mary, foolishly thinking that some stupid prayer would be enough to wad you off.

What a shame, with that dumb mindset the church had implemented onto her, it would make your job much easier, having such a foolish and pure woman to stain and corrupt.

“Hail mary full of grace the Lord is with you blessed are you--”

“You know that stupid prayer’s not going to work right, little one?” You mused, feeling the woman flinch as you wrapped your strong arms around her waist, preventing her from escaping. “So pure and flawless, Such a pretty little thing are you?”

The divine lord couldn’t even prepare you for the way she writhed in your grasp, and you couldn't help but notice how much smaller she was compared to you, her tiny body only making the dark thoughts in your head swirl with more need.

“I-I- Please!” She cried, fat globs of tears running down her flushed cheeks as she attempted to remove your strong hold on her once more. You however, only pressed a finger against her lip, silencing her as your other hand snaked downwards to cup her pussy.

“C’mon now just let me fuck you and the others won’t know about it yeah?” You cooed, honeyed words only making Yachi whimper. “No one’ll know I promise.”

Yachi knew better than to trust a demon, especially someone who was much stronger than her. You towered over the shorter girl so easily, it was almost painful seeing just how helpless she was compared to you. “S-Sir.. I don’t want to…”

How annoying. “Hm, Fine. Better not complain when you see your stomach swelling with my kid.”

The blonde could barely react to your cruel words before you pushed her against the mattress of her bed, both of your bodies pressed up close to each other as you impatiently tore her habit off.

“Please! No!” She cried out, thrashing her little leg around as you placed a large hand over her sweet mouth. “Quiet now, Don’t want your sisters to see you getting fucked right?” You grinned, taking in the sight of her untouched body, darkened eyes running over each crevice. Her cute tits, her sopping pussy, the small dip in her waist-- you made sure to drink up every detail, have each spot memorized for you to touch and use later on.

The little girl could only squirm uncomfortably as she felt your rough fingertips dragging across the pale expanse of her virgin skin. You could get drunk off of the thought of corrupting this sweet nun, She was indeed a sight to behold, fresh meat for you to pound and fill with your seed

As if her innocent reactions weren't enough, as soon as you sheathed your two cocks in front of her, the woman could only quiver in fear, trying to crawl away only to be held down once more. “P-Please stop! Don’t h-hurt me!” She whimpered, only making you laugh sadistically. “I don’t think so, princess.”

God the sight of those two thick cocks throbbing with want made her pussy tremble with slight arousal and fear. How were they even going to fit inside her? Would she be able to even take it? She was truly scared of what you planned on doing with her and with a gasp, Hitoka felt her mind go blank as she started to mumble some prayer like a broken record despite knowing that no God would be able to save her from this hell

“Fuck, so wet for me Hitoka. Are you that thirsty for some demon cock? And to think you’re a virgin too..” You laughed hysterically, practically smelling the fertility radiating off of her smaller form. ‘This is just a dream. This is just a dream.’ Hitoka pathetically tried to convince herself, the impending fear of your cock penetrating her pussy only making her grow weak as she could feel the thick head of your cock threatening to take her.

“You want this, Hitoka. Tell me you fucking want it.”

Did she really want this? Hitoka slowly felt her head spinning with each passing second and she was certain that she would lose her sanity by the time you were done filling and using her once untouched vessel. ‘I want this, I want this… Do I want this?’ Yachi was beyond confused at this point, the fear only eating her up as she tried not to moan, feeling your cock head rubbing against her clit.

The hope draining from the little girl’s eyes fueled you to thrust one of your cocks inside of her, shoving your thick fingers down Hitoka’s warm throat before burying every inch in her warm cunt. It was such a shame that you had to muffle the delicious moan that the woman let out, however you only decided to push through with your plan on corrupting her, aligning the head of your other cock in front of her already stuffed pussy.

“You’re gonna be so full, doll. You’re gonna be a mom.” You grinned tauntingly, shoving your fingers further down the blonde’s throat as you watched her choke helplessly trying to gasp for air. With the way you were stretching her cunt open, Yachi was certain that she would break. And with one more rough push of your hips, the woman was now impaled on two fat cocks as she could only cry helplessly at the intense pain in her stomach.

God the sight of her breaking in your grasp made your cocks twitch inside of her, positioning her tiny body so that her head was shoved deep into her pillow, you kept a bruising grip on her waist before you started to fuck her animalistically. Manhandling her body like a limp fuck doll. You could practically see her stomach bulging every time your cock moved inside of her. The bump moving rapidly in sync with each pistol of your hips

“Mmm, Nothing beats a virgin’s tight cunt .” You moaned, fucking into her impossibly deeper, kissing her cervix with each unforgiving thrust. “H-Hurts!” she squeaked, and you could barely make out what she was saying amidst her desperate sobs.

“Does it look like I care sweetheart?” Musing at her playfully, your fingers inching down to press at the bulge in her stomach, feeling her velvety walls tighten deliciously around both of your massive cocks. “Feel my hand here baby? This is where our baby will go.”

“B-But you ah! Said-”

“I don’t listen to little girls who don’t follow my orders, baby. Now tell me, do you want this?”

Hitoka knew that there was only one answer to your question, and with her mind slowly succumbing to your desires, she responded with a garbled “yes” not wanting to get pregnant with a demon’s child.

“Tell me you want it then, little one. Fucking tell me.”

“I-I WANT IT~! AH AH~ I WANT YOUR BABY~!”

The grin on your face only got wider with the blonde’s words and you gave her clit a harsh smack, the impact making the blonde jolt away from your touch as you continued to pound and rearrange her insides. “Good girl.”

You could slowly feel the knot building in your stomach, your thrusts getting more rapid as you continued to manhandle and fuck the poor little girl. “S-Sir gonna cum!” she squealed, knuckles turning white whilst she gripped tightly onto her pillow. “So cute, little one.”

And with one particularly harsh thrust, the blonde came all over your cock. Her body convulsing with pleasure as she passed out limp still impaled on your fat cock. With an amused chuckle your grip on her waist only seemed to tighten as you continued to use her passed out body to your pleasure. Fucking load after load inside of her creamed cunt before leaving her abused body for her to take care of in the morning.

You were beyond excited for Hitoka to see the aftermath of a nice fuck in the morning. She’d see her cunt leaking with your cum and her body littered with shades of red and purple. However you just couldn’t wait to see her reaction to the progressive swelling of her tummy. After all, you did leave quite the surprise for her the night you filled her womb with your warm cum.

[yandere-daydreams]

Imagine if Childe had an infertile darling. Like, we know this boy is a family man, and he’s damn good at it too; just look how far he’s willing to go for Teucer! He wants to have that big picture perfect family so after months of trying (and failing) the realization finally hits and it devastates him. He still loves his darling, he doesn’t blame them, but he needs some time to think things through.

Then one day after darling returns home from exercising the limited freedom they have they open the door and immediately feel something is wrong. The house is too quiet, too peaceful. It didn’t take long before they understood why. Childe was dancing softly upstairs, hips softly swaying side to side, humming to a little tune as he cradled a sleeping baby in his arms. A baby that wasn’t there’s.

So uh, anyone interested in a delusional Childe?

tw - imprisonment, kidnapping, mentions of non-con, delusional mindsets, threats of violence, mentions of pregnancy but the reader is gender-neutral.

It doesn’t help that Childe would have a pretty loose definition of ‘infertile’. He’s a family man, he has his needs, his wants, his plans for the future, and those plans include trying to breed anything and everything unfortunate enough to fall into his loving, loving arms. It doesn’t matter if you’re too stressed, or if he’s too aggressive, or you just don’t have the right anatomy to get pregnant, at all, in the best of circumstances. He’s determined. He tends to lose sight of what’s realistic and what’s not, when he gets like that.

It’s not that he doesn’t try, before he resorts to something so unambiguously evil. There’s not a night that doesn’t end with you exhausted, bruised, too fucked out to do anything but shut your eyes and nod alone as Childe talks about baby names, how many children he wants, how happy he knows you’ll be once you have a big, happy family to keep you company while he’s away, off in some foreign country, ruining someone else’s life, for once. You can try to tell him, try to list off your excuses and buy yourself a few weeks of reprieve while he mourns the loss of something he never had, but Childe’s not going to listen, he’s not going to change his mind, not about this, not when he’s so set on leaving reality at the door whenever he comes home to you. It’s almost impressive, how desperate he is, how much he wants this, just this, even if he can’t have anything else, even if he knows it’ll only make you hate him that much more. It’s almost impressive, how far he’s willing to go to have the family he clearly thinks he deserves. 

The baby makes sense, when you think about it that way. A newborn, less than a year old, too young to be separated from their mother when Childe carries them in, wrapped in his coat and crying and so violently out of place in your captor's arms, even if he brushes off your panicked questions with a small laugh and a gentle request not to be so inconsiderate to your own little bundle of joy. He seems to believe his own twisted fantasy, if that matters, enough to insist it's your child, too, that you should love them, that you should love him, or pretend to, at least, play nice enough to give his newest captive a normal childhood. He already has a nursery prepared, painted such a soft shade of blue and filled with the toys he brought home every time he went travelling, and he's hired a nursemaid, a nanny, a new fleet of servants to make up for the fact that you'll be preoccupied, too busy trying to pry the chain off your ankle or pick the lock on your bedroom door or drive your nails into the eyes of the monster who won't admit he's added 'child abduction' to his long list of crimes. He says it'll feel more natural once you see how devoted he is, how much he wants this. He says it'll be better, now that you have a reason to stay.

And, although he hasn't said as much out loud, he says it'll be easier, now that you don't just have your own safety to worry about.