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lizzyiii · 9 days

Text

Rōva Mandia

pairing | aemond targaryen x sister!reader

word count | 7.1k words

summary | no one has ever loved aemond as fiercely as his beloved older sister. in return, aemond honors the vow he made to you in his youth.

tags | (18+MDNI!) SMUT. unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f), tiddy suckin', lactating kink, targaryen incest, reader is described to have auburn hair and lilac eyes (that's all), very very soft aemond, tooth rotting fluff at the end.

a/n | you know when you just randomly maladaptive dream entire storylines. this was one of them.

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

You were the firstborn child of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower, yet you drifted in the shadows of memory like a wisp of smoke. Your presence often eclipsed by the bold brilliance of your elder half-sister Rhaenyra, or merely the existence of your younger brother, Aegon. Yet, you never truly minded.

In the year 107 AC, on a night heavy with anticipation, the young Queen Alicent Hightower cradled the weight of her impending pregnancy. She had endured anxiety and dread throughout her pregnancy, her every waking moment tinged with the consuming fear that the fate of her marriage—and of House Hightower—hinged solely on her ability to provide King Viserys with a trueborn son. Yet, as fate would have it, the child that emerged from her womb was not the hoped-for heir but a daughter.

When you were born, the moment felt like a betrayal. Alicent, still young and with deep-seated insecurities, could barely bring herself to lay eyes upon the newborn. The girl, scarcely fifteen years of age, cringed at the sight of her own flesh and blood. What stung the deepest was your hair, a rich auburn hue that betrayed your Targaryen lineage. The only remnant of your noble bloodline was found in the child’s striking lilac eyes.

Each time the queen gazed at her daughter, a cascade of shame washed over her, intertwining with a deep self-loathing for how she could harbor such sentiments towards an innocent babe. Yet, Alicent felt a cruel twist of self-loathing rise within her, her heart heavy with despair as she struggled to accept the sight of you, a precious life she was unsure she could embrace.

Just a year later, however, Alicent finally brought forth Aegon, a true prince, heartily welcomed into the world as the firstborn son of King Viserys. With the birth of Aegon, a new dawn broke in the halls of the Red Keep, overshadowing your existence, casting you into the recesses of memory.

A joyful spirit, you moved through the world with ease. Sleep came effortlessly, as did your feeding time; you were a balm to your septas and caretakers, never troubling them with cries or demands. In the halls of the Keep, you were fondly known as the Realm’s Jewel, a title that shimmered like sunlight on water.

Yet, for a girl of merely five summers, there was an oddity to your existence—the way your father and your mother rarely sought your company or cast their eyes in your direction. Your youthful heart struggled to grasp the currents of neglect that flowed through the air, as the King seemed to have all but forgotten you and the Queen wore a mask of shame with every fleeting glance at you.

Still, when nestled amid your younger siblings, you found a sanctuary of joy. Aegon, though just four, was a whirlwind of energy and laughter, his playful spirit infusing warmth into your days. Helaena, your sweet baby sister, was quiet, perhaps too quiet for one so small, and yet her beauty was a radiant comfort to you.

Your mother, Queen Alicent, was on the cusp of bringing forth another child. To your youthful mind, this was the extent of your knowledge, as imparted by the ever-watchful Septa Emery who accompanied you. The thought of a new sibling filled your heart with a joyous anticipation that seemed to dance within your chest.

"Septa Emery," you interjected with a voice that was soft yet insistent, "has Mama had the babe yet?"

The Septa turned to you, her lips curving into a gentle smile, a reflection of her amusement at your eagerness. "I believe she has, my dear princess."

A gasp escaped your lips, bubbling forth in delight, and you leaped to your feet. "Can we see her? Please, may we?"

Septa Emery paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face as she regarded the earnestness shining in your eyes. Her voice, though laced with an air of formality, held a hint of affection. "I am uncertain, my princess. It may not be the proper time..."

But you pressed on, your pleas tumbling forth in a torrent of childlike sincerity. "Please, just for a moment! Then we shall return at once! I promise!"

After a drawn-out moment of contemplation, during which you could see the battle of duty and affection warring within her, Septa Emery sighed, her resolve crumbling. "Very well, let us go, Princess."

A smile erupted across your face, the kind that radiated pure joy, and in that instant, you were off—your feet barely kissing the ground as you raced from your solar. Septa Emery followed in your wake, her steps hurried yet careful, endeavoring to keep pace with your youthful exuberance as you dashed toward the birthing chambers.

You offered a quick, respectful curtsy to the guard stationed at the door, earning a small chuckle of amusement in return as he nodded and swung the heavy door open. You slipped into the room, your heart racing as your gaze landed on your mother, Alicent, who appeared weary and drenched in beads of sweat.

Following her weary eyes, you spotted your father standing at the center of the chamber, cradling a small bundle swathed in soft linen. A gasp escaped your lips, the sound a mixture of surprise and joy as you hurried to his side, eagerness bubbling within you.

“Father, may I see, please?” you asked, tugging excitedly at the hem of his tunic.

“My darling, be gentle with your father,” Alicent said with a scolding look, her voice tinged with exhaustion. At her words, you sheepishly withdrew your hand, though your excitement remained constant.

Viserys chuckled warmly, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at you. “Calm yourself, Alicent. She merely wishes to meet her new brother.”

A wide smile broke across your face upon learning that it was a boy. With a tender motion, Viserys lowered his arms, revealing the tiny face of your new brother. You leaned closer, your heart swelling with wonder.

"What is his name?" you asked, your voice a soft whisper filled with awe as you gazed at the small figure.

“Aemond,” the King replied quietly, an approving smile gracing his lips as he looked at the bundle with pride. “Aemond will do nicely.”

Aemond Targaryen struggled to recall the days of his infancy, memories shrouded in the mists of time. The solitary shard of clarity that pierced through his mind was the profound grief that accompanied the failure of his dragon egg to hatch, a sentiment that lingered like a shadow, filled with sorrow and disappointment. Pleasurable memories from his youth were rare as dragon's gold, yet the few he clung to were always linked to you.

His older sister, radiant as the sun, with a warm smile that graced her lips whenever she cast her gaze upon him. You never ridiculed him or taunted him for lacking a dragon of his own; rather, it was you who offered him solace. The first time he soared through the skies upon a dragon's back, it was your magnificent purple beast, Aegarax, that carried him aloft.

He recalled the fleeting moments when the weight of training and the useless lessons at the Dragonpit would lift from his shoulders. During those precious respites, he sought you out, drawn like a moth to a shimmering flame. Often, you would be found in the company of Helaena and your kind Septa, ever eager to absorb knowledge. Yet, there were those cherished times when you chose to spend your hours alongside him, wandering through the fragrant gardens or nestled in the library. There, you would ask him to read, his heart swelling with joy at the opportunity to please you.

Yet, a constant sense of unworthiness gnawed at him. If he ever hoped to be deemed worthy of your love, he felt he must embody the essence of a true Targaryen—a feat he believed could only be accomplished through claiming a dragon of his own. Thus, on one fateful day, he dared to enter the Dragonpit, almost succumbing to the searing flames of Dreamfyre. Shortly thereafter, a White Cloak hastily whisked him away to his mother, where he braced for her ire. Yet, to his astonishment, amidst a stern scolding, he found unexpected comfort in her embrace—an offering that was never given freely.

After cleaning his ashen skin, Aemond sought you out, yearning for your presence to soothe his troubled heart. It felt like an eternity as he navigated the many corners of the keep—the library, the gardens, and the courtyard—yet you remained elusive. Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, he finally discovered you in your chambers.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pushed open the door and slipped inside, finding you gracefully at work on the chaise, your fingers deftly weaving threads into intricate patterns. You were a breathtaking vision, embodying grace and beauty. In Aemond’s eyes, no other woman could rival you; with your bouncy auburn locks framing your face and your wide lilac eyes sparkling with warmth, you were perfection itself in his young gaze.

Suddenly aware of his presence, your lilac eyes widened in surprise, quickly softening into a gentle smile. “I didn’t hear you come in, Lēkia,” you said, your voice a soothing balm to his troubled spirit.

Aemond maintained a stoic facade, yet you recognized the telltale signs of turmoil he tried to conceal. Setting your embroidery aside, you rose and approached him, concern etched on your soft features. “What’s wrong?”

He bit his lip, fighting against the tide of tears that threatened to spill from a heart burdened by inadequacy. With a sudden rush, he wrapped his arms around you, burying his head against your soft stomach, the familiar comfort of your embrace drawing away the weight of his struggles. You enveloped him in your warmth, holding him close.

“What ails you, my sweet?” you asked softly, your voice gentle as you cradled him within your warmth.

In a muffled tone, he whispered something into your midsection, prompting you to hum thoughtfully. You gently withdrew from your embrace, seeking to meet his gaze. "Please, speak to me," you urged, your eyes searching his.

"I... I attempted to claim a dragon within the Dragonpit," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he averted your lilac gaze.

“Aemond,” you breathed, a soft sigh escaping with your words. He continued to gaze elsewhere, so you delicately entwined your fingers with his, leading him toward the luxurious chaise. “Come, sit.”

For a moment, you gazed at him tenderly, while you settled beside him, you brushed aside the silvery strands that shrouded his face, your touch light and affectionate. “You will have a dragon, Aemond. It flows through your bloodline, just as it does with every Targaryen.”

“But when?” he replied, his voice tinged with desperation and despair as his sad gaze finally met yours, shimmering with unfulfilled longing.

"I cannot say when, but the day will come," you assured him, caressing his cheek with a resolve you wished to impart. "In the meantime, you are always welcome to ride Aegarax with me. He enjoys your company as much as I do."

A flicker of relief sparked within Aemond, a small smile breaking the solemnity of his features. “One day, I shall marry you, Mandia,” he declared, his tone earnest.

You let out a light laugh—a melodious sound akin to a sweet harp, which soothed his troubled spirit. "Oh, really?"

He pouted at your playful response, brow furrowing with the weight of his intentions. "You think I jest, but I assure you, I will."

Meeting his earnest gaze with a warm smile, you nodded in playful affirmation. "Very well, Valonqar. We shall see."

In the gentle silence that followed, the two of you simply enjoyed the comfort of each other's presence. Aemond cast his gaze toward the window, observing the encroaching darkness that swallowed the sky. With a soft glimmer of hope in his brilliant violet eyes, he turned back to you, asking quietly, “May I stay here tonight?”

Your response was a tender smile only reserved for him, a sweet beacon that quickened his heart. “Of course, Aemond.”

His sister’s words rang with an undeniable truth. In time, Aemond did indeed lay claim to a dragon—not just any dragon, but Vhagar herself, the Queen of Dragons, the largest creature to ever soar the skies of Westeros. Yet, claiming such a majestic beast came at a grievous cost; he sacrificed an eye in the process. At first, he boasted that the price was worth it, but upon returning to the gilded halls of King's Landing, the true weight of his loss bore down on him.

Aemond found himself faced with the daunting challenge of relearning the world around him. He had to master the art of reading anew, to walk with the steadiness that had once come naturally, and to wield a sword with the same grace as before. Each endeavor was a trial, a relentless drain on his youthful body and spirit. Yet, through the trials of his recovery, you, his beloved elder sister, remained steadfast by his side, offering unwavering support and encouragement as he navigated this painful journey of transformation.

Until, all too suddenly, you weren't.

He entered your solar, seeking the solace of your presence, only to be met with the voices of your grandsire and mother. Concealed from their gaze, he peeked through the door, his heart heavy, and caught a glimpse of you standing by the window. Your arms were wrapped around yourself, as if trying to shield your heart from the world beyond.

"What was his name again?" your voice, laced with a softness that belied your inner turmoil, floated through the air, causing Aemond's brow to furrow in concern at the sorrow woven into your words.

"Thaddeus Rowan, Lord of Goldengrove," his mother replied, and Aemond felt a flicker of confusion as he noticed her wide, imploring eyes fixed upon you, as though she were silently pleading with you.

You nodded gently, your gaze lost in the sprawling landscape beyond, "Would I be able to bring Aegarax with me?"

"I daresay Goldengrove would welcome your dragon's protection with open arms, granddaughter," Otto declared, his eyes sharp and calculating as they scrutinized every nuance of your demeanor, awaiting your reaction with a predator’s patience.

A tumult of emotions roiled within Aemond’s chest, though he could hardly fathom why. A longing to comfort you surged, even as your back remained turned. At last, you responded, your voice resolute yet laced with vulnerability, "Then I shall fulfill my duty as a princess of the realm."

A spark of satisfaction flared in Otto’s expression. "I am glad to hear it, granddaughter," he affirmed, a tone of finality settling into his words.

Yet Alicent lingered, her gaze still fixed upon you, her eyes a tapestry of sadness and shame. She reached out a hand, a gesture of motherly affection, but in a moment of hesitation, withdrew before she could bridge the distance between you. With a shared understanding, she and Otto exchanged a nod before departing your solar. Aemond pressed himself behind a grand pillar, concealed from their view as his heart raced.

He knew he couldn’t linger long in the facade of concealment. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped into his sister's solar. Your back was turned to him, and as he drew nearer, he announced his presence with a caution, “Mandia.”

Startled, you flinched at the sound of his voice, swiftly raising your hands to your face—a gesture of self-protection. Only then did Aemond catch a glimpse of the tears streaming down your cheeks, slivers of silver glimmering in the waning light. His brows knitted together in concern as he advanced, but your dismissed his worry with a bittersweet laugh, “Lēkia. I fear you have caught me in a most untimely moment.”

He longed to comfort you, to wipe away your grief, yet an insatiable curiosity compelled him to press on gently, “Why were mother and grandsire speaking of Goldengrove?”

You cast him a scolding glance, brow raised, your slight smile faltering as you continued to dab at your damp cheeks, “It is considered rude to eavesdrop.”

“I do not understand what is happening,” he continued, urgency creeping into his voice. Deep down, however, he felt the ominous truth threatening to crush him.

With a heavy heart, you met Aemond’s gaze directly, your big lilac eyes filled with sorrow and reluctant acceptance. “I am betrothed to Lord Thaddeus Rowan of Goldengrove.”

His world shattered around him; the pain radiating from his chest was more excruciating than the loss of his eye. “What? No. You cannot.”

“It is not my choice, Aemond,” you replied, shaking your head in defeat, the shimmer of hope fading from your countenance.

“You are a Targaryen!” Aemond nearly shouted, his voice a crescendo of desperation. “He is unworthy of you.”

“It matters not,” you whispered softly, the finality of your words echoing in the stillness of the chamber.

Deep down, Aemond clung desperately to the hope that this was but a nightmare from which he would awaken. The truth, however, was a crueler torment than any physical wound. Breath came to him in ragged gasps, as if all the air had been stolen from his lungs, leaving him to struggle against a tide of despair.

“I think Aegarax will take nicely to The Reach," lost in your own turmoil, you failed to notice the torment that mirrored your own within Aemond’s piercing gaze. Instead, you murmured to yourself, perhaps seeking solace amidst the tempest of your emotions, "Yes, he will like it very much.”

And soon, the fates would conspire against them both. Just after Aegon and Helaena exchanged their vows, you would be sent away to the Reach—a gilded cage from which Aemond would not see you for six long years. Yet even in that time apart, his heart remained tethered to yours, longing for the touch of his lost sun amidst the shadows of his world.

It was done.

Aemond savored the sweet taste of victory. Aegon, his pitiful brother, lay incapacitated, the remnants of his power reduced to whispers, his body marred by burns that etched a grim testament to Aemond's fury. Aemond had dismissed his mother, Queen Alicent, from the Small Council, casting aside any vestige of her influence. Now, he stood unchallenged as Prince Regent, the shadow of his ambition stretching across the realm.

With resolute determination, he summoned Ser Criston Cole and commanded the Lord of Casterly Rock to march forth from the west, their forces destined to converge upon the foreboding shadows of Harrenhal. Aemond would join them at the opportune moment, ready to solidify his claim and quench the fires of dissent.

Though Aegon was silenced and the realm lay at his feet, one yearning gnawed at Aemond’s heart—a singular desire that eclipsed all else. He had longed for a figure who transcended mere ambition, a presence that had haunted his dreams since early childhood. As the sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering the sky to twilight, a raven arrived with a missive to his council from The Reach.

The missive bore grim tidings: Lord Thaddeus Rowan had perished in battle, and his brother Thoren had ascended to the title of Lord of Goldengrove, swearing fealty to Rhaenyra Targaryen. Rage bubbled within him as he recalled the moment his mother had all but surrendered you—his beloved sister—into the arms of that faded, middle-aged lord.

Images of you flooded his mind—your laughter echoing off the stone walls of your ancestral home, your smile a beacon in the dreariness of courtly life. Aemond felt the fire of desire ignite within him. The time had come; he would reclaim what fate had stolen.

It struck him as odd that, despite news of your firstborn being a daughter, you had recently given birth to a second child. Goldengrove, a jewel in the Reach, should rightfully have been entrusted to you, yet it now rested, unjustly, in the grip of Thoren Rowan.

But the thought that consumed Aemond was not one of territorial politics. No, it throbbed with the pulse of a more personal victory: your husband lay dead. At last, he could claim you as his own, severing the chains that bound you to another.

As soon as the first light of dawn kissed the horizon, Aemond resolved to pay a visit to Thoren Rowan. He would make the traitor pay for his disloyalty to the crown, and yet it was the promise of rekindling the bond with you that stoked the flames of his ambition.

In truth, Aemond had not found a moment's respite, his restless mind weaving visions of your long-anticipated reunion. As dawn broke over the horizon, shimmering rays of light filtering through the castle, he adorned himself in his finest garb, meticulously chosen for this momentous occasion. With a determined heart, he mounted Vhagar, ready to embark on his journey to the Reach.

The journey to Goldengrove was one of anticipation and fury. Hours slipped by, and at long last, Aemond beheld the looming silhouette of the castle. Vhagar’s terrifying wings overshadowed the stone walls, casting a foreboding shadow over the realm. The sounds of alarm bells rang out like wails of despair, mingling with the frightened cries of its inhabitants, as his arrival heralded both dread and a reckoning.

As Vhagar touched down, Aemond swiftly rounded up the Rowan men, making them kneel before him. Thoren Rowan, trembling and desperate, pleaded for mercy in the face of certain doom. Although the moment summoned an eager anticipation within him, Aemond felt a flicker of disappointment—he had hoped to catch a glimpse of you upon his arrival, yet you remained elusive, lost within the sprawling estate of Goldengrove.

Just as he prepared to utter the command that would unleash Vhagar's fiery wrath upon the trembling men, his gaze was drawn to a figure advancing through the smoke and chaos. Time seemed to stall as he recognized you, and his breath hitched in his throat.

You appeared as though a radiant goddess had graced the earth, clad in a gown of shimmering white and gold that caught the fading light. Your auburn locks, intricately braided, framed your face perfectly. Aemond studied you intently, noting that six years had graced you with maturity; the gentle roundness of your cheeks had given way to a more defined beauty, and your figure had blossomed into becoming more full, heralding your entrance into womanhood.

"What is this commotion?" you inquired, a frown tugging at your lips as you regarded Aemond, dismissing the row of quaking men at your feet with a mere glance.

Thoran Rowan, breath escaping him in a heavy sigh of relief, turned to you with palpable gratitude. “Good sister, finally! You must put an end to this madness.”

You turned to Thoren, tilting your head thoughtfully, your expression inscrutable. After a moment, you replied, “I shall call my brother off, but only on one condition, Thoren.”

Aemond listened intently, the gleam in his eye revealing no discontent with your words, while Thoran’s expression shifted to one of desperate anticipation. “Anything,” he affirmed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“My daughter shall inherit Goldengrove when she comes of age and ascend as its Lady,” you declared, unwavering and resolute, maintaining your composure in the face of any opposition.

“Sister!” Thoren's face contorted in disbelief. “She is a girl; It goes against tradition.”

You studied Thoran with a cold gaze, your shoulders rising in a nonchalant shrug. “Then I cannot help you. Without a male of the Rowan line, my daughter stands as the only viable heir to Goldengrove.”

“No, sister, I beg of you!” Thoren and the other men around him begged, their voices rising in a cacophony of panic.

But your expression turned frostbitten, and you regarded the men with a chilling finality. "And do not presume I have forgotten the vile rumors you spread about my children's legitimacy."

Aemond observed you with admiration, respect swelling within him as you seized control of the situation. The moment your eyes locked with his, he understood the silent command, the signal to act. Clearing his throat, he commanded, “Dracarys.”

In response, Vhagar unleashed a torrent of fire, roaring with fury as the flames enveloped the Rowan men, their terrified shrieks echoing through the vast fields of The Reach, and erasing the male line of House Rowan from existence.

As the smoke began to dissipate and the flames waned, you remained, an ethereal figure standing amidst the ash and remnants of destruction. A sweet smile graced your lips—a memory from his childhood, vivid and cherished, resurfacing in his mind like a long-lost song.

With a magnetic pull, Aemond moved towards you as if drawn by the siren call of your presence, oblivious to the world crumbling around him. You stood resolute, a beacon of strength and beauty. Finally, as he reached you, your delicate hand brushed against his scarred cheek, an intimate gesture that forced him to close his eye and lean into your tender touch. “I was wondering when you’d come for me, Lēkia,” you said softly, your voice like a gentle breeze amidst the ashes.

His heart swelled, and he leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss upon your palm. “You were expecting me,” he replied, his tone laced with wonder.

“Of course,” you replied with a teasing smile, the light in your eyes igniting a warmth within him that he thought was long gone.

With a deliberate slowness, you entwined your fingers with his and led him toward the opulent halls of Goldengrove’s palace, each step drew him deeper into the heart of the estate, much like a sailor lured by the enchanting call of a siren echoing from the depths of the sea.

The servants of Goldengrove shrank back at the sight of the One-Eyed Prince Regent, their expressions shifting to disbelief and dread as they recognized his formidable presence. Oblivious to their fear, you led him toward the sanctuary of your solar, a space filled with the warmth of flickering sunlight.

“Now, the question lingers: what shall you do now that you’ve arrived?” you purred softly, leaning against an intricately carved table, your heart quickening as Aemond advanced toward you, his movement both predatory and possessive.

“I think you know, Mandia,” he murmured, lowering his face until his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and tantalizing against your lips. “How I have yearned for this moment.”

“What moment do you speak of?” you breathed, barely able to contain the electricity crackling in the air between you.

“To finally taste you,” he replied, his voice a husky whisper, before closing the distance between you and bringing his lips to yours in a fervent kiss that ignited a wildfire within his soul.

Your lips were as sweet as they appeared, and Aemond felt his hand tighten possessively around your figure, surrendering to the primal urges that consumed him. His fingers explored your soft curves, gripping you gently yet firmly, eliciting a soft moan from your lips—a sound he swiftly took as his masterful invitation.

Aemond plunged into the depths of your mouth with his tongue, that fierce pleasure driving him onward. He knew at once you had indulged in lemon cakes, the remnants of their sweetness lingering. His tongue danced about the cavern of your mouth, searching hungrily, like a ravenous beast giving in to instinct, as you, too, welcomed his explorations with eagerness and fervor, your tongues entwining in a passionate dance.

Your hands instinctively found their way around his neck, drawing him closer as his rough hands roamed your body, grasping and squeezing with an insatiable hunger. A soft gasp escaped your lips when Aemond lifted you effortlessly, placing you upon the polished surface of the nearby table. The kiss broke, leaving you breathless, your cheeks flushed with heat as your heart raced, “What do you intend to do to me, Lēkia?”

Aemond’s breath came in heavy bursts, fueled by the desire of his cock that throbbed against the confines of his tight leather trousers. As he lifted the hem of your gown, revealing the delicate curves of your thighs, he spoke with a husky intensity, “I have savored your lips, and now I yearn to taste your cunt.”

A wanton moan escaped your throat at his words, succumbing to the heady thrill of surrender. He wasted no time, bunched your gown at your hips, and with a swift motion, he tore away your smallclothes, leaving you exposed to his ravenous gaze. Aemond’s eye, a vivid violet, widened in awe as they beheld your glistening and wet form, a sight that drove his desire deeper, hardening his erection further as he prepared to claim what was rightfully his.

Mouthwatering at the sight, Aemond was unable to resist sticking his face closer and inhaling you and the sweetest ambrosia he’s ever smelt. He adjusted himself in between your legs, bending down in front of you as he placed his lips right on your gleaming pearl.

“Yes, Lēkia!” you screamed almost squealing in shock. Aemond moaned in return, rutting his hips against the table beneath you.. Not wasting any time, he began to lick you from bottom to top, never touching your pearl after that first lick. Your hands reached once more into his long silver hair and directed him where you needed him most. Following your instructions, he allowed you to guide him, as to know the best way to please you.

Giving in, he finally started nibbling at your pearl, causing you to jerk up into him, trying to get more pressure. Not needing your instructions anymore, Aemond started devouring your cunt, giving most of his attention to your pearl but licking at your hole too. You could feel your peak start to bubble up inside you, that rising feeling inside your stomach letting you know you weren’t going to last much longer.

“I’m so close,” you moaned out, and Aemond was quick to remove his face from your pearl and replace it with his fingers as he spoke. The cool touch of his fingers was a shock to your system, your body jerking involuntarily.

“You want to come, Mandia. Go on then, peak on your Valonqar's tongue.” He almost ordered, placing his mouth around your pearl once more and sucking hard. His words and the suction on your pearl had you releasing immediately. Bucking hard against his face, blindly reaching for his hands to hold onto as you gave into the pleasure and moaned out his name.

“Too much,” you muttered after you came down from your peak, attempting to push him away. Aemond gave one last kiss to your pearl before standing up, his face covered in your glistening wetness. Grabbing his face, you pulled him toward your lips to taste yourself. Both moaning out at the perversity of it all as Aemond took that opportunity to once again stick his tongue in your mouth. Bringing you in closer as he tried to devour you, seemingly content to stay like this forever.

Taking advantage of the distraction he had with your tongue, your hands caressed his leather-clad chest, drifting down to his trousers and finally finding his erect cock. Feeling his hard length straining through was enough to ignore everything and focus on the way your cunt once again tingled in excitement, as your legs came to wrap around him, pulling his cock closer to your cunt.

“Do you wish to fuck your Rõva Mandia?" Groaning he involuntarily bucked his hips, causing you to arch and moan into his neck. His head was resting against your neck as well, holding you close to him in a very intimate embrace as you rolled your hips.

“Please,” Aemond barely whispered. Reaching your hands down, you hastily untied his laces as you grabbed his covered cock, stroking him before guiding him to your wet slit. Aemond released a groan as he felt your throbbing, tight cunt around him. Neither of you moved getting used to the overwhelming sensations stirring inside.

The feelings were so intense he thought he was going to release from just feeling you wrapped around his cock like a vice. In an attempt to distract himself, he started peppering small kisses on your neck. When Aemond – at last – buried himself to the hilt, he pulled his lips from yours and stared down at your face.

"I never could have imagined it would feel this way,” Aemond said in a strained voice. You let out a sweet laugh and he groaned, your cunt fluttering around him. He reached his free hand down and circled your pearl, letting small bits of pleasure seep through you.

He pulled out, leaving only the tip in, before pushing his cock back inside you. His eye widened and his breath vanished. Admittedly, Aemond was doing everything in his power not to thrust into your tight cunt. You were squeezing the life out of him and he just wanted to ravish you. Yet, Aemond reminded himself, you were not some random whore, no, you were his beloved sister.

Aemond continued thrusting into you slowly, one thumb still dangling over your pearl, as he eyed you. He carefully gauged your reaction, measuring each sigh and whimper from your lips. He took great pride in seeing the pleasure trickling into your eyes as he rocked his cock into you.

“Aemond!” you moaned, your head falling back against the table. Your cunt tightened and wetness flooded around Aemond's cock. You moaned again, and Aemond knew you were ready. He grinned, manic and excited, and pushed inside of you a bit harder, a bit deeper, and you loved it.

“Yes, Lēkia, right there,” you moaned as he fucked into you a bit faster. You knew he was holding himself back and you were thankful for that. His thrusts were rough and hard, but he cradled you carefully. His nails bit into your thighs gently as he grabbed your legs, spreading you wider so he could get deeper.

Your brother brought you so much pleasure that you couldn’t think of any words other than his name. You babbled it, along with a few expletives, about how much you wanted his cock, how you needed him, and eventually, how badly you needed to release.

Aemond wasn’t far behind you. Your tight, wet cunt was Heaven to him. You were a gift that no others could compare to. He wanted to sink himself so deeply into your body that he could never find the way out.

Aemond's breath caught in his throat as he noticed a damp patch on the fabric that veiled your breasts, his desire igniting. You opened your lilac eyes to find his gaze locked onto your chest, fixated as he rhythmically thrust into you.

Summoning all your strength, you pulled away from Aemond, your hands trembling as you expertly undid the ties at the front of your bodice, lowering your dress and liberating your breasts for his eager gaze.

"Take what you need from your Rõva Mandia," you moaned softly. The moment those words left your lips, something shifted in Aemond. He immediately dipped down, descending upon one of your nipples, his lips enveloping the hardening peak, teeth grazing teasingly as if he yearned to savor you completely. When he began to suck, a low groan escaped him as the sweet essence of his sister filled his mouth. After a moment, he switched to the other nipple, lavishing equal attention as he continued to drink from you.

Aemond eventually pulled away from between her breasts, mouth glistening with saliva and a few escaped beads of milk; licking the remnants away. Aemond released one of your thighs and pinched your pearl. He rubbed it furiously, daring you to release. His eyes were wild as he stared down at you, beautiful, throaty groans escaping his body.

“Cum for me, Mandia. Cum all over my cock, Ñuha jorrāelagon,” Aemond grunted. He tapped your pearl quickly, and with a shout of his name, you came all over him. Your body writhed with pleasure as whiteness blinded you. His name fell from your lips like a seductive mantra, and as he heard you cry out for him, Aemond came inside of you. He filled you with his seed, pumping himself slowly inside of you, as if to fill you to the brim.

With a deep sigh of utter exhaustion, Aemond sank against your chest, cautious not to crush you beneath him as he sought comfort among the softness of your breasts, recovering from the passionate lovemaking you had just shared. You lovingly combed your fingers through his silken hair, each stroke a tender caress that echoed your affection.

After a lingering moment, Aemond raised his head, his violet gaze locking onto yours, as he captured your lips once more in a fervent kiss.

When he finally drew back, his breath warm against your mouth, he murmured, "You shall accompany me back to King's Landing and take your place as my Queen."

A small smile graced your lips as you cupped his face with your hand, your touch gentle yet deliberate. "As you wish, Lēkia," you replied, pausing thoughtfully before adding, "Now, do you wish to meet my daughters?”

Aemond could only respond with a broad grin at your words, paying no mind to his softening cock still inside you.

As the echoes of your shared passion lingered in the air, you both took a moment to compose yourselves, the warmth of your reunion still glowing between you. You reached for Aemond's hand, and he clasped it eagerly, allowing you to guide him through the labyrinthine corridors adorned with intricate white stone.

Aemond's thoughts began to wander, drifting to your daughters—would their features reflect your beauty or the visage of your late husband? Perhaps a delicate blend of both? A pang of jealousy gnawed at him, a reminder that you would forever carry ties to a man who had once been a significant part of your life.

Yet, he swiftly reassured himself. He would cherish your daughters just as he cherished you. They were woven from your essence, and in his eyes, that already made them flawless. A gentle smile graced your lips as you led him into a sunroom, a sanctuary bathed in sunlight, where stained glass cast colorful patterns across the floor, and vivid bouquets of blossoms filled the air with sweet fragrance.

“Mama!” came the high-pitched voice of a little girl, breaking through Aemond’s reverie.

He looked down, a smile spreading across his face. But as his gaze fell upon the small figure before him, that smile faltered, his eye widening in surprise as he beheld a small girl with a cascade of silver hair—the complete counterpart of her mother’s rich auburn locks.

With gentle grace, you lowered yourself to scoop up the little one. Your daughter’s delicate silver locks were intricately woven into a braided crown, and she wore a regal purple gown that beautifully complemented her enchanting lilac eyes.

“Aemond, meet Elaena,” you introduced softly, your voice warm as your daughter peered up at him, a hint of shyness flickering across her face. “Elaena, this is your kepūs, Aemond.”

With a gentle nudge, you encouraged the girl to greet him, and she shyly waved her small hand from the safety of your embrace. Aemond’s heart softened at the sight, and a genuine smile broke across his features as he took Elaena’s tiny hand in his, pressing a soft kiss upon it. “Hello Elaena.”

Elaena stifled a soft giggle at Aemond's antics, her mirth spilling into the cozy air like sunlight filtering through the leaves. Just as you were about to respond to his playful tease, a plaintive cry shattered the tranquility that enveloped you. Turning your head, you carefully set Elaena down, and Aemond watched with rapt attention as you glided toward a nearby cradle, your smile radiating warmth as you leaned over the tiny bundle nestled there.

In that moment, Aemond understood that your babe had awoken to the sound of your voice, her cries a sweet summons for her mother’s embrace. He felt a surge of pride wash over him as you lifted your second daughter into your arms, her Targaryen silver hair gleaming like strands of moonlight.

With tender affection, you nuzzled the baby’s soft cheek, laughter bubbling forth as you said, “Has my little love finally awoken?” The baby responded with delighted coos, her tiny hands reaching out in eager recognition of her beloved Mama.

Aemond, entranced by the sight before him, felt a moment of stillness, the world around him fading into the background. Yet this reverie was soon interrupted by a gentle tug, pulling him back to reality. Glancing down, he found Elaena grasping the hem of his tunic, her arms reaching up to him, a beacon of innocence. A smile blossomed across his face as he swiftly bent down, cradling her in his arms. In an instant, she eagerly reached for his eye patch, prompting a chuckle to escape his lips at her curiosity.

With Elaena nestled securely against him, he approached you and the babbling babe, your brilliant smile illuminating the sun filled chamber. You gestured toward the child cradled in your arms. “This is Aelora,” you announced, your voice filled with pride.

Aelora babbled softly, her cherub face aglow with happiness as she settled back against you, content in her mother’s loving embrace. As Aemond stole a glance at you, with Elaena in his arms and Aelora wrapped in your tender care, a profound realization washed over him. Your daughters, with their shimmering silver tresses and purple gaze, could have been a perfect reflection of him.

In the tangled depths of his thoughts, it seemed as though you had fashioned a perfect little family just for him to claim. His two precious daughters and his beloved Rõva Mandia.

a/n | in my head, her name is aelyri in tribute of alicent's mother, alerie florent.

headcannon: she named elaena after helaena.

another headcannon: after coming back to king's landing, she realised goldengrove was the upgrade.

mandia - sister

rõva mandia - big sister

valonqar - little brother

lēkia - brother

ñuha jorrāelagon - my love

kēpus - uncle

Goldengrove

Aegarax

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #hotd #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut

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konigsblog · 6 months

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cw: stepcest, non-con, forced impregnation, somnophilia — dead dove: do not eat. 18+ 🔞

i hate waking up from a nap with a headache (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)...

instead, it got me thinking about stepbro-könig and somnophilia. i know for a fact, that könig's search history is full of stepcest porn and filthy pornos, those cliché porn videos where someone is stuck in a tight area, vulnerable and defenceless against everything, with titles relating to a perverted and corrupted step sibling.

könig feels gross and ashamed getting off to the thought of his stepsister in such provocative ways — he knows he should protect you and think of you in appropriate ways, but he can't stand watching you come home from a college party with hickeys all down your body, he needs you for himself...

but fuck, he's insatiable for you and can't help himself. his heavy, weeping dick begins to grow and throb and twitch whilst held firmly in his large hand, weeping fat globs of his hot semen, running down his calloused fingertips.

at some point, könig decides to take the next step, deciding to re-enact his disgusting desires, sinking deeper inside your swollen, glistening folds whilst you're sleeping silently, your peacefulness interrupted by your depraved, selfish stepbrother. könig's thrusts are slow and sloppy, fucking his meaty dick deeper into your dripping folds. he can hear the sounds of your quiet mewls and little moans, panting, heaving and squirming beneath him as he uses your body for his own pleasure and depravity.

i mean, it's almost expected that könig would probably record this to get off to. or maybe, you'd find yourself posted onto a porn website, completely unaware of his disgusting, dark fantasies and behaviour.

fuck, he will even contemplate knocking you up so that you don't really have a choice — so that people don't look at you perversely, like you're nothing but a plaything. you have no clue who impregnated you, or how this even happened, and you're distraught — you haven't had sex with anyone, or at least to your knowledge !!

oh, your poor, little thing... although, you begin to get suspicious when you realise your newborn, chubby baby looks scarily similar to your stepbrother, or how könig takes a fatherly approach to your baby, cradling him as if he was his own.

you feel sick to your stomach at the realisation. someone you thought would never put you in harm's way, someone who you thought would protect you for an eternity... :(

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celestemona · 6 months

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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and how they deal with their children and domestic life. part ii.

pairing: dad & husband! cyno, kaveh, alhaitham x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnant reader is mentioned to introductions but not too elaborated. not beta read. a bit longer than the previous ones.

kazuha’s part | part. i

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Cyno

If there was something that the General Mahamatra valued beyond justice and absolute truth, it’d be the loyalty of those around him without asking for anything in return. Cyno could count on both hands the number of people he’d risk his life to or who’d have his back, and to be honest, there weren't many of them. Thus, the passing of the years only solidified this philosophy, confirming that trust wasn’t something to be given, but earned — it being the reason why he only kept a certain number of people close to him.

However, this belief had also shown Cyno that some priorities were greater than others, and ensuring your happiness and safety became the main one of them all. Especially when you were also the one carrying his babies.

Your pregnancy announcement was unexpected, but the change in your husband's personality wasn’t. As your belly grew, you could notice that Cyno became a little more clingy with you, enjoying being by your side or placing his warm hands on it to feel his children's kicks. Though, the mahamatra also couldn't help but be more overprotective or bossy towards you, traits that seemed to have intensified over the months.

Cyno liked to think that his overprotectiveness was justified since not only had he become a first-time father but of twins. His bossy acts weren’t for nothing either. It was just because your husband knew you and your impulsiveness very well, so the slightest thought of the risks that you could put yourself out there of your own free will stressed him out already.

And this last one you seemed to do on purpose to test him since you had put yourself in critical situations more times than he wished to count.

So, to ease his worries and keep an eye on you, the decision to temporarily settle in Vila Aaru was mutually agreed, providing Cyno with a momentary sense of peace knowing that his very pregnant wife would be surrounded by competent and trustworthy people. And then, his children could be born in a comfortable and safe environment.

The decision couldn't have been the best because a few months later and just a few minutes apart, Aryan and Isaar were born on a cold night.

The leader of the Matras still can remember that it was when he was returning to the village from a patrol when he was greeted first by your painful screams and then by the sight of your sweaty and tearful figure. Your husband didn't think twice before taking Candace's place behind your back to give you the support you needed, sharing his strength with you and whispering comforting words in your ear.

Internally, Cyno felt more than terrified for this new stage in his life despite all the previous months of mental preparation. But as he watched in amazement Aryan in his arms and Isaar in yours, the mahamatra concluded that there were no books or scrolls in the world that could describe the feelings that coursed through his veins at that moment. There wasn't enough knowledge that could teach him how to be a father, and even so, he knew he’d learn along the way to be the best he could.

The first few weeks of adaptation were exhausting for both of you. Cyno was on leave from his position, being at yours and his babies disposal and dealing with most of the household tasks, which relieved you a lot. But if he ever thought that nothing would overcome the hardness of his work at Akademiya, the sleepless nights with his newborn twins proved him wrong.

It wasn't something he complained about or refused to take on, though. He preferred you to rest as much as you could after spending the whole day with the children — it was more his lack of confidence in dealing with the little ones in your absence that tormented him.

As time went on, however, what he thought were difficult tasks became routine, so he could say with some confidence that he had adapted to fatherhood quite well. The bond between father and sons was also something that developed beautifully as the days went by, and some mornings, you’d be greeted with the sweet sight of the General Mahamatra sleeping on the armchair in the twins' room while holding both of them in his muscular arms.

Speaking of the twins, Aryan and Isaar couldn’t be as physically similar to Cyno more than they were already. The babies, just a few months old, have already demonstrated that they share the same personality with each other, which they also take after their father — the stoic and slightly indifferent expression frighteningly similar to Cyno. Aryan was a little more sullen, refusing to acknowledge others' attempts to make him smile while Isaar willingly raised his arms to familiar faces with the intention of getting something in return.

While you watched them in disbelief, your husband smiled proudly. It seems his children were already good judges of character.

Strange in its own way, but a home full of love. That would be the phrase to define your family. Although both you had divergent methods of raising your children, the twins still had complete freedom of decision about what they judged to be right or wrong. Cyno would never punish his sons for their choices; instead, he’d wisely correct them. Even though outwardly he shows rigidity and authority, Cyno is quite soft when it comes to his family so he can't stay mad at you for long.

It was honestly a strange sight for many, mainly his subordinates and the scholars who knew the man's unorthodox methods of discipline very well.

Even so, they couldn’t help but admit that fatherhood suited him well. Strangely, but still.

They only feared the possibility that in the future the boys would develop a sense of humor as horrible as their father.

Kaveh

If they asked Kaveh what his greatest achievements are, he’d readily answer that there are three of them, although two had the greatest highlights.

Even if the architect was proud of the effort and dedication that led him to give life to the Palace of Alcazarzaray, the importance of the project seemed to be irrelevant compared to the fact that he managed to win you heart. After all, maybe there was nothing so disputed between men and women all around of Teyvat but to capture the attention of the Gem of Liyue. And in a way as ironic and simple as it seemed to be, Kaveh was the only one to be able to accomplish such a feat.

As the younger sister of the Tianquan of the Qixing, it wasn’t surprising that you were also known for your intelligence, elegance and beauty, so it was expected of your people that you’d marry someone with all these qualities and wealth that could satisfy your desires.

However, they didn't know you as well as Ningguang and how Kaveh came to know you, and so, it was unexpected news that resonated for weeks when you announced your marriage.

At that time, so much uproar from the press and liyuean citizens had made Kaveh doubt himself because, well… did he even have all the means necessary to provide you with a comfortable life? He was slowly recovering from his debts and had barely started building his own house. Compared to you who literally lived in a mansion and ate from a golden platter he had nothing.

Nevertheless, you assured him that no gold or mora in the whole world could equal the love you had for him, only his reciprocal affection was what you were looking for.

And because your husband cares and loves you so deeply, Kaveh couldn't feel anything but thankfulness when you granted him with the greatest pride of his life. His daughter, Zahra.

The baby hadn't even been born and was already very adored by her father. During your pregnancy, Kaveh had been nothing but a passionate and devoted husband, helpful and attentive to both you and her. His passion for art led him to challenge himself and bring only the best when it comes to projecting Zahra's room, as well as designing the crib and its decorations. You couldn't help but watch with a smile on your face as he worked hard to provide only the best for his child.

When Zahra decided to come into the world, your husband's tearful, fascinated face only confirmed what you already knew: Kaveh would be an extraordinary father.

“I swear that I’ll protect you from all the cruelty of this world. And even if the day comes that I don't have the strength to do so, I’ll still keep you safe”, he promised as he placed a kiss on the baby's forehead.

You just smiled with equally teary eyes at the sweet scene.

Kaveh didn't know the meaning of the word tired when it came to his daughter. The blonde man loved having the baby in his arms, and when it came to her basic needs, he was a great help by proudly taking on the tasks. In fact, in the first weeks of Zahra's life, he had refused to let her sleep alone in her new room, and when you insisted on putting her in her crib, Kaveh would spend the entire night by her side. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to his little princess in his absence.

You could just roll your eyes.

As Zahra grew up, she became an increasingly beautiful girl and was much loved by her parents. Her naturally rosy cheeks and golden hair decorated with barrettes or bows made people compare her to a doll. The girl has a beauty and features similar to her father, though her sweet and laughing personality is her own traits. Kaveh feared that one day the evil of the world would take away the melodious sounds of her laughter, but there was a slight mischievous gleam in her golden eyes that betrayed that she was quite clever too.

In addition to her parents' unconditional love, Zahra also has a close relationship with her mother's sister, who has a weak spot for her niece, and with her paternal grandmother.

Shortly before marrying you, the older woman had tried to invest more in her son's life, now making sure of participating in dinners, commemorative dates or holidays.

For a long time Kaveh believed that he wasn’t worthy of such happiness. After his father's death and his mother's estrangement, the architect had a single objective: trying to survive one day at a time, fighting his own demons and relying on what little was left of his savings. He had never considered himself a man of honor, someone who was worthy of having his own family and a home to return to. In fact, he didn't consider himself a lucky man at all.

And yet, he couldn't feel as fortunate as he did because through all the paths he took and decisions he made, one of them led him to you and gave him the greatest achievements of his life.

Alhaitham

Hardly anyone would admit it out loud, but your presence in the halls of Akademiya was as fresh as a breath of spring air.

As the new Darshan teacher of Haravatat, your intelligence and passion for knowledge were characteristics that not only your students came to admire, but even the sages themselves gushed praise about, which eventually earned you a reputation that spread throughout the dendro nation. Furthermore, your beauty and charisma only complemented your charm, so there were many hearts that you had caught along the way — and consequently also have broken, as the slight bulge beneath your clothes and the golden ring shining on your left ring finger made it very clear who yours already belonged to.

To say that the beginning of your relationship with the Akademiya’s Scribe was even the subject of an academic thesis would be an understatement given that Alhaitham wasn’t someone who was known for his friendliness much less cordiality. In fact, his disinterested expression and acid humor worked precisely as a mechanism to purposefully keep people away from him, and even his friends weren’t immune to his unpleasant comments.

But even though the question remained, the students quickly learned that this attitude would never apply to you.

Like a moth drawn to the light, Alhaitham was equally drawn to you, they concluded. There was something about you that just your presence was enough to generate a small and not so noticeable change in Alhaitham's aura, even if to others he remained as rigid as he was. Besides, the progress of your pregnancy had also shown them that the scribe was as human as they were, he just had a less flashy way of showing his concern and care for his wife.

What the scholars and citizens of Sumeru saw, however, was just the tip of the iceberg compared to the affection you received from your husband when the doors to your home closed. Although Alhaitham hadn't shown his excitement as openly as you, the scribe was internally happy to begin a new stage of life by your side. And you could see this in the number of maternity books and notebooks with notes organized in his office, in the meals he had prepared meticulously thinking about nutritional values or in the care he took to suggest and choose a simple and meaningful name for your baby.

His actions were small and discreet, but enough to prove to you that he already loved the child as much as you did.

Hakim's arrival into the world also showed you the efforts your husband would make for his son. With a smile gracing his lips and slightly teary eyes, Alhaitham allowed himself to express himself a little more in the face of such a beautiful moment. It wasn't something that even you saw frequently and, therefore, you’d certainly make sure to eternalizing the picture forever in your memory.

“Thank you”, was the only thing he could say to you while looking at you with enormous tenderness.

Despite the overwhelming happiness that coursed within him, the scribe also couldn't help but feel a little empty at his grandmother's absence. Even though the longing was something he had managed for a long time now, it was in moments like these that the lady's absence came back. He was sure she’d love meeting you and her great-grandson, but wherever she was, he also knew she was taking care of his family in her own way.

Furthermore, looking at you and the child that slept so peacefully in his arms, Alhaitham knew that there was nothing to fear and that his son would grow up in a home filled with as much love as he was.

Therefore, fatherhood wasn't something that scared Alhaitham nor did it make him doubt his ability to take care of his son. If someone asked him what his biggest challenges were, he wouldn't be able to think of any because every day he was faced with something new and learned from it. Plus, Hakim was a sweet and quiet baby, a mix of both parents' personalities. Understanding his child's needs was as easy as if they were his own.

Still so small, Hakim would be surrounded by reading and multiple knowledge, often being found in the arms of one of his parents while you were working or simply reading for pleasure. You discovered that the baby liked to listen to you or Alhaitham reading aloud, so it wasn't strange to find you or your husband somewhere in the house reciting some academic article with the little one within reach.

When the boy was old enough to sit up, that’d be the time when you’d return to teaching at Akademiya, and even if your baby's presence during classes had already been discussed and authorized, Alhaitham wouldn’t hesitate to take over his care — whether taking him to his own office or to the Sanctuary of Surasthana where he would spend hours enjoying the attention of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

You could say that Alhaitham is a simplistic man. He recognizes his flaws and knows that he came with many of them, which is why he distances himself from so many people. But it was in the moments when he returned home, returning to you and your son who were waiting for him with great enthusiasm that the man thought that there was nothing as perfect as his own home.

you guys will have to forgive me again but i did not beta-read this part (clearly) nor i'll have the patience to do so because i'm currently traveling at my granny's home and it's so hot here that i couldn't even write this whole headcanon without stop everytime to take a breath of fresh air. therefore, i won't have the patience to look for mistakes now. i'll let it with you tho.

also, i remember i've said in the last part that if perhaps i start to write a genshin dad series i'd write only for the first four man i came up the idea to. however, i'm hypocrital and slut for the sumeru men too so i couldn't stop myself but draft their children biography.

i really hope you've like it so far because, for real, alhaitham's part was the hardest one and somehow i feel like this isn’t good enough to be posted. nevertheless, thank you for your reading :)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader #cyno #cyno x reader #genshin dads au #when they're dads

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frantic-fiction · 6 months

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Hi!! I love your astarion stories so much, you are such a talented writer!

I have a bit of a weird request for an 18+.

I've heard theories that if a vampire like astarion drinks enough human blood that there's a slight chance he's able to get someone pregnant 👀 ...

I'm wondering if you could do a smut like something along the lines of astarion having a huge breeding kink, so he and Tav are experimenting with him drinking maybe more than he should of her but it's worth it if they have a chance at having a kid or something? Basically just asking for a smut about astarion having a breeding kink🥺

thank you so much for all you do!! Once again like I said you are so talented, and if you do decide to do something with this I'd love to be in the tag list.

Okay first off, this comment is everything thank you. You are just too nice I can't 🥰....and well I had so much fun writing this so I hope you like it lovely!

I Want 18+

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, Breeding kink, fingering, dry humping, slight daddy kink if you squint, Astarion being lovesick, slight dom/sub maybe? idk

Word Count: 2.5k of pure filth

Mastarlist

It started with a chapter in an obnoxiously repetitive book about vampires and their spawns. You had gifted it to him with a poorly concealed giggle on your lips.

Most of the content was either incorrect or exaggerated, and Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at the foolishness of it all. He was ready to throw the damned thing into the fireplace when his eye drifted over a passage.

Dhampirs: Creatures born from the union of a human and a vampire. The conception is incredibly rare, but the likelihood increases if the vampire indulges in a significant amount of the human's blood prior to sex.

Now, it can't seem to leave Astarion's mind. The idea of you being pregnant, being able to watch your stomach swell with his child, witnessing your breast grow and your hips fill out. How sensitive would you get as your pregnancy progresses? Would you crave him more than you do now? These thoughts alone have him throbbing in his trousers.

However, what sealed Astarion's fate was seeing you with Gale's newborn baby girl. The way love filled your heart the moment your eyes landed on that little girl sleeping soundly in the wizard's arms. How delicate you cradle the young one's head as soon as she's in your grasp, softly cooing down at the little bundle, stroking the smooth pink skin of her cheek.

And when you turned to him with that sweet smile that never fails to make Astarion weak in the knees, asking if he wishes to hold baby Dekarios. How could he say no?

Astarion never cared for fatherhood, but the moment that baby girl was in his arms, opening her eyes with that dopey, toothless smile, he was done for. And when she grabbed his pointer finger with her tiny hand, gripping it lightly with all her strength. Astarion knew he wouldn't stop trying until you were carrying his child.

You were finishing up the dishes, hips swaying to a tune only you could hear. The summer heat had you in shorts that fell just below the swell of your rear and a sheer top that revealed your lack of a bra. It's been a week since the visit to the Dekarios, and Astarion can no longer hold back the desires that burn deep in his body.

Astarion approaches silently, a predator stalking his prey. You rub your nose on your shoulder, trying to scratch an itch while your hands are covered in suds, groaning in annoyance when that fails to help.

Gods, you're adorable.

You're so carefree and relaxed, looking so soft, warm, and delicate. All open to his wandering hands and his greedy mouth. Astarion can already feel himself stiffen just from the knowledge of what he has in store for you.

A startled scream leaves your lips as Astarion's cold arms snake around your waist and pulls you against his hard chest. It does make him feel bad for a moment, but the delicate sigh that follows as he kisses up your jaw is enough to make up for it.

"Hello, my love." Astarion hums against your skin. His nimble fingers trail over your stomach, teasing the valley of your breast, taking careful movements to ghost his thumb over your sensitive nipple. A gasp leaves your sinful mouth, and you arch your back.

"H-hey," you breathe, and when Astarion grinds his tented pants against your backsides, you let out the most delicious whimper. "What are you up to, Star?"

His only response is a breathy laugh as he turns you around and pulls you into a kiss. Signing into his mouth, you hook your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. It's messy, with soapy hands and mingling tongues, but it leaves you breathless. Astarion teases your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away to bite your jaw playfully, relishing the surprised yelp you give him.

Astarion quickly lifts you onto the countertop, where he can nestle between your plush thighs. Your wandering hands move up to tangle into his curls and give a tug. Astarion obliges your silent request and resumes the kiss, licking deeply into your mouth. He's lost in the subtle floral scent of your shampoo and the taste of your lips.

You pull him away with your chest, heaving in deep pants. "Astarion, what are you--" He smirks when you trail off into a breathy moan as his teeth nibble at your ear.

"Darling, do you remember that book you gifted me?" Astarion's hands trail down your side, and you part your legs more for his reaching fingers.

"Y-yes, the one you scoffed at and threw in the corner?" Still having the sense of mind to tease him, he chuckles when your quip spills into a moan when the pad of his thumb presses against your covered clit.

Astarion is pleased with the dampening fabric of your shorts. Your responsiveness never ceases to leave him aching with need. He begins to move his finger lightly back and forth against the fabric. It's not enough to give you what you want, but it has you whining for more.

"Well, I must admit the poor excuse for educational text did have some interesting information." Astarion moves his thumb a bit rougher against your clit.

"What -fuck- what interesting information are we talking about?"

Astarion doesn't respond immediately, slipping his hand under the band of your shorts. He swipes his deft fingers through your dripping folds and begins to tease your entrance while he continues to rub tight circles against your sensitive bud. You gasp and drop your head to his shoulder, rolling your hips into his palm. Astarion cups the back of your neck with his spare hand and tilts your head back. You meet his heated gaze with lidded eyes and mouth agape.

"Dhampirs." Astarion purrs, plunging two of his fingers into your dripping core, curling up just enough to have you gasping his name.

Your fingernails dig into his forearm, clinging for anything to ground you. Astarion waits for you to react, loving the way you roll your hips in time with his fingers, desperate for all that he gives you. It seems you're lost in your pleasure or not quite catching on to what he's implying because you're looking at him, clearly not following his words.

"Half-vampires, my sweet."

You clench around his fingers, letting out a soft whimper that would have gone unheard without his heightened hearing. He smirks, picking up the pace. Astarion grabs your chin, guiding you to look at him.

"Does that excite you, darling?"

"Gods, shit," You breathe. "Please, don't stop."

"You would look so beautiful carrying our child. Hells, imagine."

Astarion trails his fangs over the skin of your neck, sucking on the pinprick from the previous night. His hips are now rutting against your leg and the edge of the counter, only enough to ease the ache in his groin. Astarion can feel you getting close just by the little jolts of your hips and the tight squeeze of your cunt.

"Do you want my child, love?" Astarion hums against your skin. "Do you want me to fill you to the brim with my seed, fuck you until you're a dripping mess? Until there's a little one growing in your womb."

"Please! Fuck, I'm going t-"

"Come for me, my sweet girl."

You cry out his name, and just as your orgasm rakes through your body, Astarion sinks his teeth into your neck and begins his feed. You're lost to the pleasure, your walls spasming around his fingers. He helps you ride out your release, never unlatching from your neck.

Astarion takes large, greedy gulps of your blood, far more than his usual fill. The book said a significant amount of blood was needed, leaving much to be interpreted. Astarion only stopped when you nudged him on the shoulder.

When he pulls away, you wipe the small trickle of blood that dribbles down Astarion's chin. Delicately he grabs your hand and sucks your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

"Astarion, let's go to our room. I think we have some things to explore," you say with a tempting smile.

Astarion is carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hall without another word, his lips locked onto yours.

You're giggling against Astarion's mouth as he kicks the door open and tosses you carelessly on the bed. You bounce on the mattress and watch the vampire hastily tear at the buttons of his shirt.

Tossing the fabric away, Astarion looks at you and unbuckles his trousers. The sight alone nearly has him cumming in his pants. There you are, lounging with that devious gaze, biting your lip and groping your breast like the tease you are.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Astarion breathe, practically ripping the rest of his clothes from his body. "Take your clothes off for me."

You do as you're told and quickly strip until you're bare and spread out like a feast just for him. Astarion now kneels naked at the foot of the bed and grabs your ankle, giving a gentle kiss to your calf.

"I've thought about nothing else but getting you pregnant since I read that foolish book," Astarion says, kissing his way up your leg. "Watching your stomach grow round with our child," He kisses and licks the soft flesh of your abdomen.

"Astarion," you sigh.

"To get the pleasure of taking care of you. Rubbing your swollen feet, and massage your aching back, even fetching every one of the disgusting cravings your pregnancy gives you."

"Says the blood drinker." You scoff, glaring down at Astarion between the valley of your breasts.

Astarion ignores you and bites at your chest playfully. "You would make such a lovely mother, darling. Please, love, let me make you a mother."

Astarion's words are laced with a tone of desperation. He might have been embarrassed if not for the need that consumes him: a need to see you nod at him with your beautiful smile, a need to hear you say you want this just as much as him, that you want to start a family with him, however unlikely it might be.

And then you nod your head and frantically pull him up into a kiss, and Astarion feels like he's alive once again.

"Gods, yes." You mumble, slinging your legs around him and pulling him down against your body.

Astarion licks into your mouth, kissing you like a man starved. You're just as desperate, grinding up against him, seeking friction, and letting out little whines against his mouth. Wandering hands trails down his back and between your two bodies, and Astarion lets out a pathetic moan when you grip his leaking cock, giving him a few teasing pumps.

"You're going to be such a good daddy, Astarion." You whisper sinfully in his ears as he fucks your hand. "Going to take good care of me and our little one."

"Hells, you wicked thing." Astarion grunts.

You run your thumb over the head, giving him a playful squeeze. Hot, open-mouth kisses are littered across his chest and up his neck until your mouth is right against his ear. Your warm breath floats over his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Astarion love, I need you to put a baby into me."

Astarion nods, seemingly breathless, as you line him up at your weeping cunt. He presses in, and the room fills with debauched moans. You grab his neck, slamming your mouths back together, tongues back into their messy dance. Saliva coats each other's lips, but neither can get enough. Astarion grunts deep in his chest when you scratch your nails over his scalp.

"Oh my love, I'm going to fuck you until you're leaking with my cum. Filled to the brim until you can't take anymore." Astarion grabs your legs and pulls them over his shoulders, and you cry at the change in angle. "Then tomorrow I'll do the same, and the day after. Until we know for sure our baby is growing in your womb."

"Yes, Star. Wanna baby." You slur against him, pressing warm kisses wherever your lips can touch.

Astarion was fucking you as if this was his life goal. As if nothing else matters but the delicious feeling of his cock thrusting against your walls, pressing deep against your cervix. Seeing all of you with your cheek flushed and your chest rising and falling with rapid pants of breath, knees against your chest. Your eyes lidded, gazed over in pleasure, and your hair a mess against the white of the pillow. It was the sexiest display Astarion has ever had the pleasure to see.

"You're so beautiful. Gods, I love you."

"Love you," You try to say but choke on a moan. Your hands wander down his back and across his chest, seeming not to know where you want to touch.

Astarion is close but determined to feel you come around him before finding his release. Thankfully, he won't need to wait long because you're on the edge. So close. He can tell just by the way your gummy walls spasm around his cock, and the way your hips are jutting up against each of his thrusts.

"I know you're close, darling. Can you come for me? I want to feel you squeeze me while I fill you."

And with those sinful words, it was almost like you were waiting for his permission because as soon as they left his mouth, you were falling over the precipice. You clench down on him, a pleasured sob breaking free of your throat. The feeling of you alone was enough to tip him over, and he quickly found his release spilling his seed deep into your abused cunt.

The room stills, the scent of sweat and sex clings to the air. Astarion lets your legs fall to the side and maneuvers both of your bodies so that he's lying on his back and you're resting on top of him, head on his chest. Astarion rubs your back and kisses your hairline as you catch your breath. You trace lines across his skin, lost in thought at what had happened.

"So should I expect a little vampling running around soon?" you ask, looking up at him.

Astarion huffs a small laugh through his nose and kisses your forehead. "Human and Vampire reproduction is unlikely but not impossible," Astarion explains without the rush of arousal clogging both of your minds. "But I think we've done many remarkable things together, wouldn't you agree, my love."

You smile brightly and kiss his chest. "Yes, we do have a knack for doing the impossible. And I'm very, very eager to keep trying."

Taglist

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#bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #fanfic #reader insert #frantic fiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you

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because--palestine · 8 months

Text

youtube

The presentation by Adila Hassim SC, counsel and advocate for South Africa against Israel, to the International Court of Justice

Palestinians in Gaza are subjected to bombing wherever they go. They are killed in their homes, in places where they seek shelter, in hospitals, in schools, in mosques, in churches, and as they try to find food and water for their families. They have been killed if they failed to evacuate, in the places to which they fled, and even while they attempted to flee along Israeli declared “safe routes”.

The level of killing is so extensive that those whose bodies are found are buried in mass graves, often unidentified. [...]

Israel has killed an “unparalleled and unprecedented” number of civilians, with the full knowledge of how many civilian lives each bomb will take. [...]

This killing is nothing short of destruction of Palestinian life. It is inflicted deliberately. No one is spared, not even newborn babies. The scale of Palestinian child killings in Gaza is such that UN chiefs have described it as “a graveyard for children”. The devastation is intended to and has laid waste to Gaza beyond any acceptable legal, let alone humane, justification.

Note: Adila Hassim are two Arabic words: Adila is the feminine form of "just" or "fair"; and Hassim means decisive.

#endisraelsgenocide #palestine #free palestine #south africa #icj #isreal #ethnic cleansing #ethnostate #apartheid #resistance #Youtube

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poppadom0912 · 2 months

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the reader and jay dated, they ended up breaking up because jay joined the army, he left leaving her a note. the reader moves on but she finds out she's pregnant she decides to keep the baby. ages later she gets a job at intelli, they are at a crime screen, the reader spots her daughter. the team are a little skeptical when they see the reader giving her money. hank brings her in for questioning, the reader tells voight that thats her daughter, jay realises that the girl is his.

Warnings: Mentions of break ups and swearing, angst with a happy ending?

A/N: Hello! I hope this lives up to your standards. I don’t know how happy I am with this but it’s whatever. I felt like adding a backstory would’ve taken away from the main story so i apologise in advance for the differences between what you asked and what i wrote. Hope you enjoy!!

*****

"Alright baby, have lots of fun. Love you lots."

"Love you too. See you later."

And with that, you were alone, watching your daughter run away with her friends.

Recently, whenever you were with her, the guilt was chipping away at your conscious. All because of your job.

You had known Antonio for years, being partners before Intelligence was formed. So when it was established, you joining him was a no brainer.

It was your fault you hadn't ever spoken or told anyone about Eliza's dad. The only one to ever know that you even had a child was Antonio, but all he knew was that a child existed, not their age or gender, and that their father left before you could tell him about your pregnancy.

But then Jay had joined intelligence and the tension between you two was so palpable it could easily take a physical form.

So, you confided in your long-lasting partner who, with this newfound knowledge, wasn't so forthcoming to the man.

Not only did you feel guilt for not telling Jay that he had a daughter, but you also felt guilty for not telling Eliza, who knew she had a father out there in the world somewhere but had never met him.

However, you had shown her countless pictures of him - you weren't that evil - so she was aware that she was her dads carbon copy and when she was a newborn, you struggled to look at her and if she were to ever see him in the streets, she would easily recognise him.

And that's what worried you the most: the two of them accidentally meeting without you present.

*****

The murderer on your current case had struck again and everyone was at the crime scene doing their respective jobs.

As you were finishing talking to an eyewitness, you caught sight of a familiar group of girls at the back of the crowd of bystanders, a certain brunette standing out to you.

"Sorry Tonio, give me two minutes."

Without waiting for a reply, you patted him on the arm and walked away, aware of his eyes and a few others following your movements.

Were you acting without thinking? Yes

Did anyone know who your daughter was? No!

Was this going to be a mistake? Oh, definitely but having your baby at a crime scene took precedent in this situation.

“Elizabeth Y/L/N, what are you doing here?” You asked, bending under the yellow tape and pushing her and her friends away so they could talk without anyone eavesdropping.

“The cinema’s around the corner.” Your daughter pointed somewhere behind you. She was the only one talking and from the looks of all her friends faces, she’d be the only one to do so.

“Alright well, this street is inaccessible for the rest of the day.’ You said, your tone strict and firm. “Here, take this and get yourself some food from that place you all like.”

The smile that brightened up her face, you could never stay indifferent to that for long.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” You warned them, a soft smile remaining on your lips as you waved them off. All her friends saying their thank-you’s and goodbyes in sync.

You walked back to Antonio with your chest feeling lighter.

Unfortunately for you, you failed to notice the look shared between Voight and Al.

*****

You’d been over the moon when you saw the two lines. You and Jay had been dating since High School and despite never seriously talking about having kids, you both knew that marriage and starting a family together was going to be in your future.

Trying to contain your excitement, you went about your day as usual, going to work, talking with colleagues and friends, doing the groceries before going home.

Surprisingly, the apartment was quiet and empty when you stepped through the door. Every Tuesday, Wednesday and Saturday, Jay always finished work before you. It was an unspoken rule that whoever got home first was in charge of dinner.

But today, everything was dark and in the same conditions you left it in this morning.

Turning all the room lights on as you walked through the apartment in search of your long-term boyfriend, you stumbled upon an envelope addressed to you in very familiar handwriting.

Feeling your heart thundering in your throat, you carelessly set the grocery bags aside and picked up the envelope with shaky fingers.

‘Y/N, I wish it didn’t…’

With those words, your entire world and everything you knew came crumbling down.

*****

Back in the bullpen, everyone stood back as Antonio presented the new information gathered from the previous crime scene. As Antonio finished, Adam came in, adding what he knew from a very knowledgeable witness.

As you were trying to pay close attention, you felt someone watching you. Such an uncomfortable feeling causing you to turn around and make eye contact with your boss who jutted his head towards his office.

Confused, you followed his silent instructions with no questions, aware of the multiple eyes belonging to your coworkers that were following your movements.

Closing the door behind you, you remained standing as Voight leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms.

“Anything you wanna tell me?” The suspicion was sky clear in his tone.

Your brows furrowed in further confusion, your mind struggling to follow what he was insinuating and where this was going.

“No? I’m sorry but I don’t think I understand.” You licked your lips in uncertainty. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

He just continued to stare at you blankly. Now you were starting to get nervous.

“If you tell me now, I can cover for you. We can work something out, but you have to tell me.”

You wanted to scream out all your frustrations. What the hell was he on about?

When you remained silent, he finally gave in.

“Who were you giving money to?”

A laugh slipped out from the revelation which you immediately tried covering up with a cough so you weren’t given a reprimand.

“She’s my daughter.” You revealed, a small smile on your face as you spilt one of your biggest secrets to him. “No one knows besides Antonio but all he knows is that I have a child, not their age, gender. Nothing.”

Instantly, he knew your reasons without you justifying yourself.

“You’re keeping her under wraps?”

You nodded, “from everyone.”

*****

Jay wasn't dumb.

Ever since he joined intelligence, things between the two of you had been awkward from the get-go. Your shared past was known to all your colleagues and it was never brought up.

But it seems that Antonio would never get over it as still to this day, a grudge was sometimes still held against him which given the circumstances, Jay understood.

Several years working together, you two were fine. You'd talk only when needed and hang out only in group settings. Other than that, you were never seen together.

Somewhere deep down, Jay wished that you would allow him to explain himself and finally apologise but your grudge was ten times stronger than Antonio's.

At the crime scene earlier today, everyone had seen you walk away and very suspiciously talk to a group of girls who you then handed money to.

The silent knowing looks they all shared held the same message. They all loved and adored you but they couldn't be ignorant to what they just saw.

Voight pulling you away to talk privately in his office only confirmed their suspicions.

When you re-joined them again a little later, the air was thick in anticipation, everyone wondering what happened between you and Voight.

You picked up on it straight away.

Now you hesitated. Telling Hank about your daughter was one thing. He was your boss and that man could take even the biggest secret to his grave.

It wasn't that you didn't trust them because you did, you would and do trust them with your life. But as soon as you revealed her age, everyone would connect the dots and that would lead to you being forced to actually talk to Jay.

"Umm." You licked you lips, wondering how to say it exactly. "Well, that girl I gave money to, she's not some criminal rando... She's my daughter."

Silence.

More silence.

"No fucking way."

"What?!"

"You have a freaking child?"

All their voices overlapped as they expressed their shock, Antonio clearly less so than the rest of them but still surprised nonetheless at knowing more.

You couldn't bear to look in Jay's direction.

"You have a fully grown child. Oh my gosh, you have to tell us everything." Kim asked nicely, her eyes wide from shock but also happiness. "Y/N, you’re a mother!"

You laughed, her giddiness contagious.

"Her name's Elizabeth." You started, smile soft and a sparkle about your eyes as you spoke about your favourite person and subject in the world. "It's always just been the two of us, so it's never been easy but we manage."

The rest of that hour was spent not working but everyone listening intently as you finally spoke about your daughter.

Jay finding you alone in the locker room at the end of the day wasn't a surprise. You'd been waiting for him to say something for a while now.

"Elizabeth?" He paused, watching you sat on the bench as you got your things together. "You named her after my mum."

The emotion was strong, weighing heavy down on his tongue, making it hard to talk. You still couldn't look at him, keeping your eyes trained in front of you inside your locker.

"Of course I did. That's what we planned, no?" You reminded him of the time you both came up with baby names. "I love your mum more than my own."

"And she's..."

"She's turning twelve."

"Fuck."

You couldn't stand the thick tension.

"She knows about you." You fiddled with the string bracelet around your wrist. "She's grown up knowing everything about you. I've sown her pictures of you and us and-"

You exhaled shakily, the emotions starting to get to you. "I've tried my best with her, to keep her opinion neutral but gosh Jay. You've caused me so much pain that at times it's so hard to see her adore this idea of you when she knows nothing of what you did to me."

Jay didn't try to stop your rant. "And I've been so scared that one day she'd see you in the streets and you'd reject her but-"

"I don't know how I feel about you back in our lives- back in my life." You finally looked at him, your eyes glistening from unshed tears. "I can't go through the pain again."

"Y/N, I'm-"

"No." You stopped him, your eyes burning into his. "I've already accepted your apology but this is going to take time. I'll introduce you to her and if you want, you can get involved in her life but leave me alone."

You were breathing heavily when you finished your rant.

"I can do that." Jay complied without a moment to waste. "Anything you want, anything she wants, I'll do it."

You exhaled shakily.

Wiping your eyes, you closed your locker door and zipped up your bag. Checking yourself in the mirror, you reapplied lip balm and patted your under eyes dry.

"I'll text you my address"

Jay stumbled on his words, confused at what you meant. "What? I-"

"She's home now. Did you want to meet her?"

"Yes. Yes please."

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #jay halstead x reader #one chicago fic #jay halstead #chicago pd #jay x reader #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n #one chicago fanfiction

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writingoddess1125 · 11 months

Text

Just a Quick Headcanon

Zoro as a New Parent

Based of Roronoa Koro a OOC of mine

Story Here <<

Support on Ko-Fi I'm poor!

• When Zoro learns about his son, He is both nervous and pleased to start as a father.

• He had experience with children had been a bit limited in truth but he had babysitted children around this young before so he figured the knowledge would be useful.

• A newborn baby was very different from a fully up and mobile one Zoro realized- but was fortunate to be able to experience this.

• It really wasnt-

• "You support the back of his head gently" You instruct as you watch Zoro awkwardly hold his 4 day old son with both hands. Clearly worried about hurting him or doing something wrong

"He's so small-" He whispered softly as if unsure if his voice could wake the child. It was too adorable.

He watched as Koro yawned softly and rubbed his little face with his little hands and snuggled hack for warmth- you practically saw Zoro's heart melt

• Koro is kuckily a very easy baby, maybe it was him being a newborn or just being Zoro's son but he wasn't a difficult boy.

• He rarely cried or fussed, would eat very well and slept often- Very Often.

• Koro and Zoro have a lot of similarities- but the one most prominent was that sleeping one-

• After a few days Zoro would introduce Koro to his crew with your blessing. You agree to two at a time of course and allowed it-

• Since Koro at this point had his eyes open he was looking around everywhere- Clearly wanting to see what was going on at all times.

• Zoro had Luffy and Chopper meet First. Luffy surprised and shocked to see that his First Mate had a son. You finding it really sweet to see the wonderment in the infamous Captian and a talking reindeer.

• "Woah! He looks just like you" Luffy says almost in shock as he holds Koro- The newborn staring confused at the smiling man

•Chopper also holding Koro and giggling excitedly as well as starting to tear up. "H-He's so cute!" Chopper said now fully crying while holding Koro who's bottom lip was starting to quiver as well.

• After this it went Nami and Usopp- Nami of course voicing how weird it was Zoro had a kid while Usopp promoted himself to the baby his status and making up stories to entertain. Koro however seemed to not be amused by any of them.

• Koro was starting to get irritated by being held when Robin and Franky came in. He did not like the cold hands of the robot and just stared at Zoro when Robin held him- Zoro already able to read his sons face which clearly said 'Make them leave me the hell alone-'

• And last was Sanji- Zoro was of course snide and rude to Sanji who happily returned the favor before letting the man hold his son. Much to your surprise however Koro seemed to just be staring hard at Sanji

• "Why is he looking at me that way?" Sanji questioned as Zoro scoffed-

"Cause he's a baby wai-" He sported as he heard a noise- you all did and everyone stared at Koro who was making a series of different cooing noises and squirming around as he stared at Sanji. He didn't seemed distressed at all only curious as he continued his gurgles and coos.

• "...I hate you-" Zoro said as he looked right at a very cocky Sanji, clearly Koro liking Sanji quite a bit.

• After this Zoro stayed in your village for a few weeks, letting his crew go ahead and come back for him later.

• With this Zoro takes time to help you raise your guys son. Allowing time for you to sleep inbetween feedings- helping with diapers and also helping you post partum.

• Truthfully he had been a God-Sent.. Calling doctors for you and talking you through your depressions and anxiety-

• The moment that damn near made you want to kiss him in joy was when he found out you had a clogged milk duct and he came in with a warm container of water with some Epsom salt.

• "You're a life saver-" You say when you see the container- Even though this should hurt your pride your tit hurt way worse-

• Zoro would stay by Koros side fir hours, Holding him and playing with the newborn. However does freak the fuck out when the embelical cord fell off.

• "It just falls off!?" He yells when he sees you set it to the side.

• Zoro adores his son and treats him as the most precious being on earth-

• It couldn't make you happier

Bonus!-

• Zoro will send a letter and a photo of his son to Mihawk. Truthfully he found what he did impulsive and didn't know why he did such a thing-

• When Mihawk gets the letter of the arrival of the new Roronoa he feels both surprised and a sense of pride. Keeping both and even showing Perona who squeals and jumps at seeing the cute baby.

• In less then a week a large crate filled with very expensive baby items arrives along with some stuffed toys that creep the hell out of you.

• The legendary Mihawk will even arrive himself to meet Koro- Zoro surprised that his teacher came and you terrified that a former Warlord was holding your son-

• Mihawk stares at Koro, holding the baby like an expert and silently staring. Koro doing the exact same and even scrunching his eyebrows as if mildly irritated that Mihawk was looking at him that way.

• The Warlord cracks a smile at this and nods in approval. Koro reaching for the Cross necklace to try and chew on which Mihawk easily slips away from the baby. "When you are older-" He stated calmly.

• "You have a strong son, I can see he will grow into someone great" Mihawk says calmly.

• "Sensei... I wanted to name you Godfather of my Son" Zoro said calmly, Mihawk looking surprised by this but nods non the less.

• "I will accept" He stated calmly and smiled softly at the boy. Clearly pleased to have a god-grandson to spoil.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #zoro headcanons #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro #Dad!Zoro #Dad Zoro #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader

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oval3000 · 11 months

Text

Chapter 9

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

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

König went crazy with the news. He would come home with baby stuff, onsies, burp cloths, books on parenting, baby bottles, diapers, crib, stroller, baby car seat.

He would assemble the crib and make a nursery in the next room. The only thing you did is to make sure your healthy and worry about the baby growing inside of you.

When you told König about the news, he showed how happy he was by giving you a night of love and intimacy. Not in the animal way he was giving you. It was more softer and gentle that you fell head over heels for him. Him being soft to you and the baby gave you a new perspective of him. You were not scared of him.

He wasn't lashing out on you as before. You have been scared to ask him if it was okay for you to step outside for the first time since you've been here. Everything has been going so good, you didn't want to ruin it.

König has hired a private medic that specializes in peds to help you with the pregnancy and to be there for when you give birth.

As months pass by, you grew and the more you grew the more König crave you. He would have sex with you, gentle so he won't harm the baby. When it was time for your due date, you were quite nervous about giving birth.

You used your knowledge and check yourself everyday to prepare for when you would go into labor.

Eventually, that day came by. König was outside, doing whatever he does. You were in the kitchen, preparing yourself a little snack when you felt pain. That pain was followed by a feel of gush going down your legs. You saw the puddle on the floor and went into a bit of panic.

You took a few deep breaths and hoped that König would enter the house soon. But he didn't. It left you with no choice, but to run to König outside. You opened the front door. You hoped that König wouldn't yell at you.

König rolled out from under his truck and saw you there. He got up and ran towards you. "König! The baby is coming."

His eyes widen as he quickly dialed the medic, who came in quick.

You were laying on your back with your legs spread open. König was sitting next to you, holding your hand. When the medic told you to push with everything you got, you did.

It felt like hell. The pain so too much, but you heard the baby cry, it all went away. They weren't kidding when they say the pain will go away as soon as you held your baby. The medic placed your newborn baby on your chest and you saw all the little features.

"Congratulations, a beautiful baby boy." The medic said.

He had your hair and skin color and when he opened his eyes, you saw the pure, clear, blue eyes. He has König's eyes.

König will hold him. Your baby is so tiny when he's being held by König's arms that it makes it more adorable.

He would wake up in the middle of the night and feed him. He would change his diaper when you would take your day naps. He would rock him to sleep, so you can take a moment for a shower.

As for you, he would help you whenever when it comes to your needs. He would help you wash your hair when your arms are too tired from holding the baby. He would give you feet massages when your carrying the baby all day.

When you feel your breast filled up and sore, he would suck them dry for you.

He was honestly living the best life and he would not let anybody get in between them.

So when he saw Horangi carrying your baby as you plead for him to give him back. He felt anger.

"Horangi! What are you doing!?" He screamed at him, pulling you back to behind him.

"What, König? You think it's fair for you to live this life. You fucking put us here!" He said, pointing his bowie knife at you and him.

"And what? Killing MY child is going to solve this!?" He took a step closer to him.

"Oh. I'm not going to kill him. I think that maybe I should live this life too. You're just going to be in the way König." He swayed his knife back and forth with a smile on his face.

König laughed, "you're going to kill me? Is that your plan."

"Mm. No." The three of you heard police sirens coming in close, "you see, I served my time in that fucking hospital. You escaped. I did nothing wrong here, you did."

Königs fist clenched so hard, you could see all of his veins and muscles on his wrist. "du verdammter Verräter! (You fucking traitor!)"

"Now, König. You don't want to kill me while I'm holding your son.." he tilted his head, "sorry, my son. He'll need a father growing up wouldn't he."

"You? A father? The only thing you're gonna do is pass down your gambling addiction." König felt your hand on his arm, he looked back at you over his shoulder.

"Please don't make this worse König." König felt everything crumbling down.

The moment he saw you at that hospital. The moment he saw how you defended him. He never felt so weak and hatred as he does now.

He heard bannging on the door. He opened as saw many police officers. He put his hands on the air as they cuffed him and placed him on the back of the police car.

König went through trial for escaping and murdering the people at the hospital.

Now, instead of the Psychiatric hospital, he's behind bars. People have heard rumors. How he killed all the workers and left one alive. How he tortured that victim to death.

He would receive letters from Horangi. Letters of him being taunted on how he's taking care of you. Of his son.

He would even visit König and tell him how good you are to him. König doesn't need to know the full truth either way.

He even gave him the news that you are expecting another child. His child.

Horangi's child.

König counted the days. He didn't lash out. He didn't do anything bad. He was too clouded with anger that he didn't do anything behind bars.

Which led to, "good news, König. You'll be out sooner than we thought. That good behavior is doing you good."

He was counting the days. The day where he will be excorted out from prison. The day where he will see the gate open. The day where he will see the sky again.

The day where he will stop at nothing to find you.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #fanfic #konig #könig #könig cod #könig x reader #yandere konig #yandere könig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig x you

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corvidcrossbow · 4 months

Text

~•♡•~ Daddy's Little Dhampir

➳ Summary: All you'd wanted in life was to meet a real life vampire, and by some twist of fate, you got so much more than that (Dad!Vamp!Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, picking up at 6 years post outbreak – references to your childhood

➳ Word count: 2.9k

➳ C/W: Mentions of blood and vampire stuff, allusions to typical TWD gore

➳ A/N: I had to dump this rq while we're still on the vamp train, and thank y'all for all the love n 140+ followers I appreciate y'all 🫶

If you could go back and tell your little nine year old self that vampires were real, she'd lose. her. mind.

The nine year old who checked out every book from the library on them and other folklore creatures, and would sit immersed for hours, taking notes and educating herself before falling asleep in front of it all: but picking it all back up the next day.

The nine year old who urged her friends to come exploring with her in the forest after dark, and proudly said ‘Fine. I'll just do it by myself’ when they all declined. Who trekked over dead leaves with a dim flashlight, who's pulse spiked and excitement grew as noises rustled around her and her gaze shot up to the sky to see a bat fly overhead. Who had the widest smile in existence… just to turn and have a blinding light shone in her face and police officers announce ‘We found her!’ – and who pouted when her parents scolded her for sneaking out before wrapping her in tight hugs and saying they were just glad she was safe, and she snapped back with: ‘I don’ wanna be safe! I wanna find the vampires and I was about to and you guys ruined it!’

The nine year old who eventually fell out of her obsessive phase, but always maintained belief. Who retained every bit of knowledge, and would still step outside sometimes in the night, or veer off her path and wander in the woods while walking somewhere. Who traveled to major cities solely to explore nightclubs and hot spots. Who truly believed deep down in her heart and soul that vampires were real.

If you told her, 25 years from then, she'd not only know a vampire, but be married to him, and sit against the headboard in their bed at home with him beside her, head resting on her shoulder as they both stared down at the newborn infant in her arms… you think she'd pass out. Especially if you added the whole part about an unknown virus sparking a massive outbreak that caused people to rise from the dead and turn into rotting, flesh eating monsters, and in return cause the entirety of society across the globe to collapse, leaving only a fraction of the population alive, and that's how she'd even meet said vampire in the first place – and that it's already been 6 years since then.

But while she may pass out, you didn't. It was ironic, how everything you'd ever dreamt about came true in the one way you'd never imagined it. Despite all the negatives, everything you lost; you gained so many positives: the vampiric love of your life, and the daughter you shared.

The smile on your face was wider than the one in the forest that night so long ago, eyes glued to the baby in front of you that slept so peacefully despite the chaos that surrounded her existence. Simply conceiving her was a challenge atop everything else, given the crossing of your species. You tilted your head to the side, resting against the mans, and murmured an ‘I love you’.

To which he shifted his and brought lips to your jawline, returning the admission as a second nature, it having grown so much easier to express such since he met you. And how could he not pour his heart out and remind you every second how madly, crazily, desperately, needily and obsessively in love with you he was – the same way you were in love with even just the concept of his existence – now that you'd carried, birthed, and held his perfect baby girl in your arms.

The newborn wriggled in adjustment, subconsciously cuddling closer to the warmth of your body, fully reliant on you for survival.

“She's gonna be yer little dhampir, Daryl… Daddy's little dhampir,” You spoke softly, admiring the blessing of her life.

“Yea, she is…” He replied, reaching a hand to stroke the side of her face with a gentle finger, which lulled her back into rest. He lived for you, and now he lived for her.

❥-》》—————➣

You loved your daughter to bits, but those books didn't quite warn you how difficult raising a dhampir would be sometimes.

“God, Daryl- What do I do? How the hell do I feed her?!” You asked frantically as the baby screamed and cried so hard in your hold it was concerning. Breastfeeding didn't quench this thirst, yet she had no teeth to bite into you.

“Fuck, jus’-” Daryl sputtered, grabbing a bottle and a knife, and slicing open his palm, flexing muscles to drain it faster into the container before screwing on the lid and shoving it to you to feed her as he spat into his hand to heal over the wound. Crisis averted.

Luckily, she didn't seem to require blood often, and you two created a better system after that: Daryl building an enclosure in the yard and storing live animals he'd find there so you could drain them when needed.

When her teeth did eventually come in, she had the cutest smile ever – small yet pin-sharp fangs poking through the pinkish gums of her mouth.

“Yea? Yer’ah damn lil’ biter, huh?” Daryl chaffed, playfully flicking splashes at her during bath time as you both sat at the edge of the tub.

She giggled, edges of her mouth curling up as she slapped the surface of the water to try and get him back for it – and he'd always dramatically act like he was hit by a tsunami when in reality it was just a few small drops on his arms. Just to hear her laugh.

The moment she was walking, she was outside, stumbling around and soon running, that instinct to be out in nature clearly taken from her father.

“Poppa,” She whined as you set her down at the bottom of the steps outside the house, her turning back and reaching a grasping hand towards Daryl, the other holding yours, as he took a seat on the steps, sun on the other side of the home and shadow protecting him from the daylight, but not the yard.

“Daddy can only watch right now. Remember the sunlight isn't good for him, okay sweetheart?” You cautiously reminded her as her head looked back to you, too young to wrap her mind around the concept.

He'd watch and talk as you two'd sit in the grass and play, sometimes covering best he could and making the sacrifice anyway just to make his daughter happy. And you'd always go out and play at nighttime anyway.

Growing into a toddler and young child, she was an absolute menace, Daryl just fueling her every troublemaking behavior.

“What in the world are you two doing?!” You called from the stairs, wiping sleep from your eyes and catching Daryl and your daughter immediately freeze, having been loudly chasing each other around downstairs with their enhanced agility in the middle of the night – busted.

The child gave an innocent toothy smile, and Daryl a sheepish grin as she pointed at him. “‘Ts daddy's fault!” She always blamed him when it was 100% her doing.

You rolled your eyes and groaned, pinching your brow. “Dixon, get yer damn daughter to bed and your ass into ours.” It was nowhere near the first time they'd woken you up with such.

“Yes ma'am.” And he took the moment of distraction to grab the child as she kicked and squealed in the interlocking cell his arms created.

Then as she aged, she completely mirrored every aspect of his personality, practically a carbon copy of him.

“Shuddup! Yall'ere ah buncha assholes!”

“Ay! Ya better watch yer mouth girl! Ain't nobody tell ya you could be talkin’ like tha’!” Daryl called across the way, catching hints of her civil argument with some other kids – as civil as a Dixon could be.

“That one really is your fault,” You teased him with a smirk, gently elbowing his side as he rolled his eyes and groaned.

“They called me Lucille cause ‘ima bloodthirsty bat’!” She nor Daryl even possessed the ability to transform. That was more fantasy.

He vanished to deal with it before you could finish your blink, leaving just the energy of his protectiveness in his wake.

—

“Hey ma, I gotcha somethin’!” She practically slid across the edge of the kitchen counter, clasped hand held out to you.

“If this is another big ass bug-”

“It's not! It's not!” She opened to a large stone of jasper. “Found it while wanderin’ – inside the walls –, thought ya might want it cause dad always gets ya ‘em, ‘nd yer ring.” She motioned to the band on your finger, adorned with a jasper center. Daryl started collecting them for you after you'd liked the one he found back near the prison.

—

“Nah, ts'only 4.9. Mine's bigger.” Daryl beamed triumphantly as they each weighed cottontail rabbits they'd caught on a hunt. They always had competitions on who could catch more, or the larger game.

“Tha's not fair! Only weighs less now cause it lost more blood on tha way back than yers did!”

“Still counts. Gotta get'ah cleaner shot, babyfangs. Then ya won’ waste so much.”

So many moments were leagues better than what your imagination curated in your youth, full of that real laughter and care and love that you could only placebo before.

But… some moments of it were the hardest, scariest moments of your life.

“Do you have any traces of her at all? Can you smell her??” You asked worriedly through labored breaths as you ran faster than you had from any person or walker or thing before. Fear pumped through your veins, somehow pushing you to keep up with Daryl's vampiric pace as you sped through the forest, bow on your back and crossbow on his, searching for your daughter.

“Yea, she ain't far. Ts’jus’ hard tah pick ‘er out with tha walkers cloudin’ it,” He grunted back, straining his senses to try and focus in on where she'd be. Sunlight seared his skin, having left the house so quickly he had no time to dress in proper attire. He didn't care, he didn't even feel it over everything he felt for his perfect girl.

“Daddy?” That soft, familiar voice ripped you both from your rush, stopping so fast you nearly toppled over and mutually whipped to take hurdles towards your daughter and wrap her in your arms. Now you truly understood your parents – so, so many years ago; that burning, aching dread to do anything and everything for your baby, to exhaust yourself to find them when they were lost, how it felt to have them in your arms again after thinking the worst thoughts one could illustrate. But there were some situations your parents never had to worry about.

“What? What is it?” You asked in alarm, pulling back to look at your daughter's face as tears started to stream down her cheeks and her gaze flicked away, the teenager so reluctant to be honest. “Please baby, what is it!?”

To your every worst fear, she reached up and pulled the neckline of her shirt aside, revealing the distinctive imprint of a walker's bite carved into the flesh on the nape of her neck.

“M'sorry, m'so sorry- I dun’ kno’ what happened I jus’-” She stammered, unable to find the words or will to begin to explain herself. Your stomach dropped so far you wouldn't be surprised if it was down in the molten core of the Earth.

The neck. It had to be neck. If it was the arm, you could amputate it, maybe she'd even have the chance of regrowing the limb, and same with the leg. If Daryl had converted you to a vampire like you'd talked about once many years ago, she never would've been a dhampir, and would never need to care about the risk walkers posed to her – whole vampiric nature making it impossible for the virus to infect them, able to survive bites and just let them heal over. If you'd payed some more fucking attention to what she was doing and where she was going, she wouldn't even be out here. If this, if that. If-

“Am I gonna die?” She sobbed, looking between you two with the most terrified expression you'd ever seen. You couldn't even register her question before her dad answered. He was always better at those split second response times where every extra beat changed the confidence of a statement.

“Nah. Yer not dyin’. Drink.” Daryl tore away his shirt, craning his neck to expose a spot by his left clavicle, close to his heart so it'd pump the most blood the quickest, and he knelt to her level. She was hesitant. “C'mon. Now!”

You watched as she stepped forward and sunk teeth into him, drawing long siphons of his blood. You prayed the purity of it compared to hers would aid her system in warding off the infection, should a dhamir still be susceptible to it. You didn't know. You didn't know if this would even work. Your heart raced so fast you couldn't even feel it anymore, like your body was already trying to shield you from how it may feel if it breaks.

“Daryl, that's enoug-” You started after a long moment, worried he'd just end up killing himself too. You couldn't lose either of them, but especially not both.

“Nah. Drink till ya can't no more – don’ give'ah damn ‘bout how much ya take,” He barked at you, then lightened his tone for her. He was beginning to feel woozy, pressure building in his head as his body's efforts to replenish struggled to keep up with her anxious draws. But again, he didn't care. He would do anything for her. He would bleed himself dry should it mean even the chance of keeping her alive.

But eventually she retracted her fangs, guilt overpowering the rest of her emotions. How could she live with herself if she was responsible for her own father's death? “Daddy, m'sorry, I-”

“Ya needah… drink, moonshine…” He wavered, and you grabbed him steady before he collapsed, resting him back against a tree trunk as you and your daughter sat on either side.

“Shit, Daryl.. c'mon, drink somma mine,” You urged, tugging your own top out of the way and offering to him.

“Nah, m'not-”

“I told ya to fuckin’ drink it!” In the rare times you raised your voice at him, he'd immediately listen: now driving his canines into your body, but taking far less of your crimson than he needed. He was too selfless for his own good.

You brushed the matted hair from his charring forehead, looking back at your daughter who tried to quiet her cries as she couldn't bring herself to look at him, curling into a ball of her own pity and shame.

“Honey, look at me,” You reached out, sliding your hand to cup her cheek and bring it up, her glassy eyes meeting yours. “I need you to help me get him home, okay? Ts’not safe out here.”

She just sat there for a moment, silently looking at you. She didn't want to accept that any of this was actually happening.

“We're all gonna be okay, so long as we get home. I love you.” That motherly tone melted her, and she nodded a little, unwinding and helping you to hoist the archer up and carry him back to Alexandria.

You kept them both in bed with you, nursing Daryl's drained status back to the typical, and keeping close watch on your daughter for any symptoms of the infection. You stayed there hour after hour, only leaving for brief moments to harvest another rabbit or squirrel for your husband, and fluids for yourself to regenerate as you'd been having him feed from you in intervals.

Your daughter spent most of it distant on the other side of the bed, back to you both, but not asleep. And you frowned.

“Babygirl, come here.” She didn't move, prefering to still act like she had nothing to do with any of this. “Sweetheart…” You reached down and forcibly dragged her up to cuddle between you and her father, soothingly stroking her head as she broke into tears again and he wrapped her in a half-dazed embrace.

Daryl was fine, just a little droopy at this point, and you mutually watched and held your girl. You prayed and pleaded and begged more than you had as a child, for a completely different reason. And to your every actually important hope and dream, a fever never spiked. Her skin never grew sweaty and clammy, eyebags never sagged, never grew weak.

Whether being a dhampir alone saved her, or Daryl's healing components pulled the rest of the weight, it didn't really matter. She was alive, and she'd live, and neither of you would ever allow this to repeat.

That customarily fatal bite turned to a scar, then smoothed back out to the unscathed plane it was before. Daryl spooned her as they both drifted into a slumber, a faint smile cresting your lips as you gazed from the opposite side. It wasn't as big as that night as a kid, or when your daughter was born, but it held as much meaning. You were all okay.

You got your vampire, and he got you – and you both got your little girl.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

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blingblong55 · 7 months

Text

Perfect imperfection- John Price// Simon Riley

Photo credits: @ave661

Based on a request: Hi! can you please maybe do price or simon w a reader who gave birth to a child with some sort fo dissability or sickness and when reader and simon/price goes out reader sees a happy family and reader starts to feel insecure that they couldn't give price/simon the "perfect family" and price/simon is like oh no u and the kid are already perfect and ill beat up who ever made you feel insecure

---- F!Reader, established!relationship, mum!reader, dad!price, dad!ghost, fluff, baby with a disability/sickness, comfort ----

A/N: didn't tag those in my list since I wasn't sure they'd be comfortable with this one

Price:

It was a long day today. After your daughter was born, it had become a routine to go on walks. Even on days when she would make you stay up later than usual, a walk was a must.

Now, John walks hand in hand with you, his beautiful wife, through the bustling streets, your newborn daughter cradled in her stroller. Isn't she so beautiful? The soft coos and occasional giggles from the baby filled the air with a sense of warmth and joy. But beneath that happiness lingered a layer of worry, a shadow that casts the knowledge that your precious daughter was born with a disability.

As you three stroll along, you can't help but notice the curious glances and sympathetic looks from passersby. Each stare felt like a dagger to your heart, a reminder of your daughter's differences. You try and push away the feelings of insecurity, but they claw at you, threatening to overwhelm your fragile confidence.

"John," you whisper, your voice tinged with uncertainty, "do you ever…feel like she's not…normal?" What a question.

John stops in his tracks, turning to face you with a gentle smile. He reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock from your face.

"Y/N, listen to me," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Our daughter is perfect, just the way she is. Her uniqueness doesn't make her any less beautiful or valuable. She's a miracle, a blessing in our lives."

Tears well up in your soft eyes as you look into your husband's loving gaze. At that moment, she felt a surge of gratitude for the unwavering support he offered, even in the face of your insecurities.

And this was usual at times, he knew best that when they had run tests when you were pregnant, and you had been informed about your daughter's disability something in you doubted carrying the pregnancy. He knew you didn't like to announce your pregnancy anywhere you went. Instead of having that beautiful look all pregnant women had, your face was dull. It wasn't that you would hate that precious angel you carried but rather you were scared for if anyone besides John and you would appreciate her in this world.

How could anyone ever hate this precious baby? How can anyone not want to hold her and squeeze her chubby little face?

"But what if…" you trail off, unable to voice your deepest fears.

He gently takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "We'll face whatever comes our way, together," he promised. "And no matter what, our love for her will never waver. She may be different, but she's still our little miracle."

With his words echoing in your mind, you feel a newfound sense of strength and resolve. You wipe your tears away, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"You're right," you say, your voice steadier now. "I'm sorry for….doubting this, I'm just scared," you mention and he cups your face. "I know, doll," he kisses your forehead and smiles, his eyes falling upon his sweet princess. "Let's get her home soon, her mum is about to have a dinner date soon," he smiles.

As you continue your walk, the weight of the insecurities feels as if they are slowly leaving you. In the embrace of his love, you slowly find the courage to block away the what-ifs.

At this moment, your little family was perfect. As it's always been.

Ghost:

Simon Riley, renowned for his bravery and resilience on the battlefield, found himself facing a new kind of challenge at home: parenthood. His days of clandestine operations and covert missions had taken a backseat to the joys and responsibilities of being a father. Together, with you, he now takes the journey of being a dad to his son, that little ray of sunshine amidst the chaotic world he lives in.

Your son, however, was born with a condition that makes him different from other babies. As you two navigate through doctor's appointments and endless nights of worry, Simon and you find yourselves grappling with insecurities that were never anticipated.

One sunny afternoon, as you both stroll around through the park with your daughter cradled in Simon's arms, you can't shake off the feeling of inadequacy gnawing at your heart. You watch other parents with their perfectly healthy babies, and a wave of self-doubt washes over you.

"Simon," you murmur, "do you ever wish things were different? That our baby wasn't… like this?"

Simon halts, his eyes gentle yet firm as he meets yours. "Hey," he whispers, his free hand reaching out to caress your cheek, "our baby is perfect the way he is. And you, my love, are the most incredible mother he could ever ask for."

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his reassuring words. "But… he's not like other babies," you choke out.

there is one thing besides being a soldier that Simon is and that is a father, a proud one at that.

He presses a tender kiss to your cheek. "And that is what makes him special," he declares. "He's unique, just like his beautiful mum. We're a family, and our love for this baby is stronger than the nasty stares from those other parents. Plus, I doubt their baby is as cool as ours," he smiles.

What other baby makes their parents laugh at the cute little stuff they do? What other husband is as amazing as him?

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, easing the burden of doubt that weighs heavily on your shoulders.

You nod and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

Why must just being this close to him be so comforting? He is precious, isn't he? They are both precious.

This is gorgeous.

Tags:

@scarletdfox @fivmedibenxina @aethelwyneleigh27 @annoyingdragonheart @undercover-smutlover @goldenmclaren

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ozzgin · 1 year

Note

Hi it's me again.

I wanted to ask you if you could do a yandere baki characters with a pregnant reader because i love the concept. If i could request some characters i would ask for Retsu because he's the perfect husband : he's responsible, he can cook, he's perfect 😍. Katsumi because he's a family man, and as a yandere i'm pretty sure he would baby Trap you and you can't forget about yandere supportive grandparents. Hanayama would be the protective daddy's baby girl and he would spoil you so bad. But please whatever you decide to do, avoid doing Yujiro cause there wouldn't be much to write about this immature man.

I would love if you could come up with something from the start of the pregnancy until the first moment with the baby after labor. But i understand if it's to much to write

I hope this request will inspire you. Thanks for reading this, bye 👋.

Sure thing, I think you picked the perfect characters for it. I might’ve included Biscuit Oliva, but I’m horribly uninspired for the yandere part of it. Might update it in the future.

Yandere! Baki Characters x Pregnant! Reader Headcanons

Featuring Kaiou Retsu, Katsumi Orochi, Kaoru Hanayama. And a heavily pregnant reader!

[Baki Masterlist]

Kaiou Retsu

Retsu has never been one to think hard about lineage. He himself was born and raised in a temple, without any known biological relatives, and nonetheless has built lifelong bonds based on loyalty and respect. Yet something about having his own offspring is intriguing and tempting. The idea itself wouldn’t be as attractive if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re part of the equation. Yes, that’s what makes it so special. Not the fact that he’s passing his genes, but that in doing so he’s further materializing his connection with you.

These thoughts come to fruition when you hand him a positive test. He looks at you with a serious, determined expression, but you can guess from the shaking hands just how overwhelmed he is. There’s no greater privilege than being a father to YOUR child. He offers you a deep bow and vows to become the best father figure you could ask for.

You try to tell him that he can take it easy, but this man stays true to his word. You look outside the window one day and see him doing his usual training, except this time he’s wearing headphones. Listening to music? As if! He got himself some parenting audio books in order to maintain his physique and improve his knowledge on the topic. Your fridge is overflowing with leftovers because he cooks several meal courses at once, just in case you suddenly crave a different dish. You’ve been approached by officers on the street and had to explain that the man stalking you is your husband, and he’s just worried you might get hurt on your grocery shopping trip. You sigh, exhausted.

A newly found sense of purpose floods his being upon holding the newborn. There it is, the concrete, ultimate proof of your love. The reassurance that you’ve chosen him, out of all the men out there, for this experience of a lifetime. Don’t worry, he will never forget it. He will spend the rest of his life demonstrating his devotion and adoration to you. You won’t regret your decision. Ever.

Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi has a complex relationship when it comes to family dynamics. He has known both the tragedy of losing a father and the joy of having one in his life to this day. He’s been plagued by grief and love at the same time and so for him, the image of a father becomes a labyrinth of feelings. Except that he’s not wandering alone, but with his darling (Y/N) by his side. His blindingly bright guide and love of his life.

When you surprise him with the news, he feels as if all pieces of the puzzle click together and he’s finally found an exit to the maze, an answer, a purpose. Naturally, being a father holds different meanings to different people. To him, having a child means that your fate has been joined with his. Whatever the future holds for you must now include him, soldered safely into your plans. Oh, what a blissful occasion. You’ve given yourself to him entirely and he will make sure to never break the trust.

You didn’t think he’d care for all the small details, but he does. He’ll be right next to you during all appointments. He’ll be holding your hand when you’re sick and unwell. He’ll be scribbling furiously and taking notes during the parenting classes you decided to attend. He wants to know everything and be part of everything. And you’d be fine with it if it wasn’t for the equally overzealous in-laws. The Orochi family has you under permanent surveillance, nearly worshipping the ground you walk on. You’re overwhelmed.

His hands carefully wrap around the fragile, soft body of the infant. Katsumi marvels at the size and lifts it slightly, in order to be able to view both the baby and the mother. His eyes narrow in a dazed smile, gazing at the sight in front of him. His family has taken many forms, volatile through time, expanding and shrinking. In this very moment, however, it’s this. Just you, him and the proof of your bond. He won’t allow anything else to interfere.

Kaoru Hanayama

Hanayama is very proud of his father as a yakuza leader, but never fully approved of the way he carried his duty as a parent and husband. He wants to prove that he can be a fearless, hard-hearted kumichou without stripping his kindness to his friends and family. Especially after meeting you, he’s convinced he could never have the heart to upset you in any way. The two driving forces in his life are the honor of his family and (Y/N)’s happiness.

And this oath might soon extend and bring everything together at once. When he hears your announcement, he closes his eyes briefly and pictures it. Unexpectedly, the meaning of family has been fulfilled in every way possible. He’s not afraid or nervous, in fact he’s welcoming it with open arms. He feels almost nostalgic, similar to when he inherited his father’s title and became responsible for his Group. He asks for the ceremonial cups to be brought, together with the best sake. From parent to child, he raises the small cup for his second sakazukigoto and you return the gesture with a solemn smile. You sheepishly remind him that you can no longer drink alcohol and he bows to apologize, flustered.

Hanayama will make sure that everything is at your feet. The whole branch has now been tasked to provide to your smallest wishes and desires. Not only are you his life companion, but you are gifting his Group with a new addition and he wants you to be aware of your importance. Sometimes he might become a little melancholic, wishing he could ask his mother for advice on how to proceed. When that happens, you hold his hand firmly and remind him that you’re just as clueless and you will figure it out together. Truly, what a blessing you’ve been in his life.

When the newborn child is placed in his arms, Hanayama can feel his knees weakened by emotion for the very first time. Not only is this small human his own blood and flesh, but a part of (Y/N) as well, serving as a promise of devotion. You’re all his and now he has a permanent reminder of it. He chuckles, slightly regretful that he can no longer parade you around with an obvious belly. He feels you tug at his sleeve. “Have you told Kizaki?” You ask, fatigued. “I told everyone, actually. They’re all outside.” You cover your eyes with your arm, not wanting to imagine the sight. Dozens of yakuza casually hanging out in the hospital yard. Welcome to the family, I suppose.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki x reader #yandere #kaiou retsu #katsumi orochi #hanayama kaoru #baki headcanons #yandere baki

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tobiasdrake · 4 months

Text

By the way, while we're talking about Gohan, Piccolo, and that moment, I want to take a moment to focus in on what he says here. Because it's fascinating to really stop and think about.

In his dying moments, Piccolo says this to Gohan.

"You were the only one who ever really talked to me."

Piccolo's existence is so complicated at this point that there's some ambiguity here. The first person ever to really talk to him. That's a bold statement. What does he mean by that?

What does Piccolo mean when he says "ever"? Let's stop to really think about that.

The first interpretation is that he's referring to this incarnation of himself. Going back to the day he was "born" anew.

I love how he was born wearing clothes apparently. Maybe he popped out of that egg and immediately used his signature Clothes Beam, an obscure technique but a valuable one.

For real, Piccolo's ability to create matter from ki is probably the most underutilized ability in Dragon Ball. This is, like, the one and only time we ever see it. It is never explained. Even Cell wound up having to create his arena from existing resources nearby.

But I digress.

Piccolo was reborn to finish the work he'd started: Kill Son Goku and take over the world. The 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai was his opportunity to do just that.

So. When Piccolo says "ever", he's talking about this, right? He talks to attendees at the tournament but their interactions are strictly hostile. He's here to kill Goku; He's not interested in socializing.

This is the closest thing to a friendly chat that this incarnation of Piccolo ever had prior to Gohan's training. So it's easy to hear him say "You were the only one who ever really talked to me," and go, "Yeah, that checks out." Though that's not really their fault.

But. Hang on. Piccolo's sense of self goes back further than that.

"Majunior" is always referred to and always refers to himself as though he and Piccolo-Daimao were one and the same. He is not Piccolo's son. He's a copy, splintered off from the Daimao and given a new body.

Kami explains it like this.

Effectively, Daimao split himself in two. One piece of him created the egg and sent it across the horizon for the other piece to escape inside, and that piece hatched into "Majunior".

It's a popular fanon to treat Piccolo Jr. like he's a totally newborn baby saddled with the Sins of the Father, but this is never how the source material treats him. Piccolo is Piccolo is Piccolo; the two are one and the same. Except one's a Mazoku and the other is not.

A revelation that comes at the cost of Goku and Raditz's lives.

So when he says "You were the only one who ever really talked to me," he's probably not talking about this incarnation. He's probably reaching all the way back to the birth of Piccolo as an entity.

When the Nameless Namekian ascended to the throne of God, he had to purge himself of the evil that had accumulated in his soul. That evil took form and shape, and it became Piccolo.

Given the description of Piccolo having "escaped", it sounds like they tried to imprison him moments after he first came into being. Makes sense; He's literally evil incarnate. A half-person Mazoku formed of pure evil, incapable of moral agency. Why would you want to let that loose?

But they failed. Piccolo got free and descended from Heaven into the human realm to wreak untold havoc upon humanity.

So. Y'know. Nobody's out there having civil chats with that.

...

But. Hang on. Piccolo's sense of self goes back even further than that, doesn't it? After all. As much as "Majunior" is a fragment of Piccolo-Daimao, Piccolo-Daimao too is a fragment of the Nameless Namekian, and he retains that knowledge, memory, and experience as well.

When Piccolo and God begin to speak candidly with one another in the ring, they don't speak Japanese. Instead, they're speaking their own language. A language not of this Earth. With courtesy translation for the audience.

They are speaking the Namekian language. A language from a race neither Piccolo nor God even knows exists. This is confirmed by Bulma and Popo, when they discover the Nameless Namekian's spacecraft.

This was the first language Piccolo ever knew, in the very first incarnation of himself.

This isn't God's history he's sharing. It's theirs, his and Piccolo's together.

Because Piccolo is pure evil. But he isn't. Like. The concept of evil. He is Nameless's evil. The corruption, the bitterness and resentment and fear and anger and uncertainty and despair that's cultivated in his heart over a lifetime of loneliness and isolation.

A Ryuzoku Namekian, child of Katatsu, sent to Earth to escape a climate catastrophe that destroyed their planet and killed their entire race, but two. An orphaned child landing in a deserted wasteland with nothing but an empty promise from a parent who would never make the trip.

We don't know what happened between then and his ascension to Godhood. All we know is that these days were spent alone. And a worm of evil grew in his heart.

This, it should be noted, is not standard procedure for becoming God. When Dende took the throne, he did not have to do anything to purify himself.

That's basically the entire vetting procedure for Dende's ascension.

The way God describes the process, creating Piccolo was something unique to his experience, because his predecessor had noticed a growing darkness unworthy of God inside of him.

I legitimately wonder if God spit Piccolo out as an egg, the way he later spit out the egg of his copy.

In the Namekian language, the word "Piccolo" means "Another world".

It's a word that Nameless knew intimately. Not just because it's from the first spoken language he ever knew. But because that voice command opened and closed his home.

Every day of his lonely life, waiting for a parent that would never come, this is how he came and went. Piccolo as he goes out and Piccolo again once he steps outside. Piccolo on his return and Piccolo once he's safe inside the only home he knows. Piccolo, Piccolo. Piccolo, Piccolo. This word defined his childhood.

This word was the only parent he had.

When he fractured, breaking off the darkness in his soul and externalizing it into a new body, that body took Piccolo as his name.

This has been his existence, since before he could remember. The life of a Namekian whose name has been lost to time. The man who became the man who became Piccolo. God, in his temple in heaven, has Popo by his side to offer companionship and assistance. But for the life he lived before that and for the part of him that fractured off, not once in this long and winding 300-year journey has he ever had a friend.

So when you really stop and take a look at where not just the original Piccolo but the original came from, at the foundation of where Piccolo truly began, those words take on a bit of a different meaning, don't they?

When Piccolo says, "You were the only one who ever really talked to me," that cuts a little deeper when you stop to really think about it.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #piccolo

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lilgoblinbitch · 6 months

Note

saw your post about rick and daryl, do you think you could write a rick TOWL smut with him angry that you left your post and got yourself injured and he takes out his frustration on you? idk why just had that idea after the recent episode😫

Grimes' Dominion 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

a/n: ahhh omg yes i actually had time to think abt this for a few nights. i added a bit of plot to this because i love me some backstory & descriptions. but anyway i made this pretty lengthy so if u wanna skip to the smut part just look for the '💋'. here is your plotty smut! lmk your thoughts ₊˚⊹♡

warnings: smut 18+, PinV, unprotected sex, oral/face fucking (male receiving), slight bondage, fingering, ass slapping, hair pulling, orgasm denial, degradation (use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’), language, mentions of blood and injury, angsty angsty angst!, reader is a mother, overall Rick is very rough so you have been warned

wc: 6k

MDNI

It was training day at your post. You had recently graduated from consignee and signed up to become a CRM soldier. It took you six whole years to get to this point. While your agility and militia knowledge were already unprecedented, the CRM didn't fuck around when it came to producing the world's most unrivalled soldiers. It was serious business.

Nearly eight years ago, you trekked a long journey down from your small community in southern New Jersey. You lost everything: your husband, your friends, and the people you lived with and grew stronger with through the grisly and dilapidated post-apocalyptic world. Terrible people – which were apparently becoming more and more common – destroyed your community, leaving very few survivors. It was you and your newborn child who managed to escape safely; you weren't able to go back to see if others had made it out. For almost two years you were alone, and your only hope left was keeping your baby boy alive...

Fast forward two years after the traumatic fallout you managed to escape, you discovered, or rather you were found by, a giant military in Pennsylvania, called the CRM. A military that bordered and protected a whole city of people – 200,000 of them. Out of desperation and maternal instinct, you bargained with the militia in hopes to give your two-year-old son a stable future. The CRM agreed to place your son in a 'nurturing fostering service' within the safe confines of the protected city – known as the Civic Republic of Philadelphia – so long as you swore to abide by the military's code and regulations by becoming a consignee.

Of course you agreed, because you were nonetheless terrified of what would happen to your baby boy if you didn't play it safe with this strong force. But for a while you lost it, you couldn't bear not seeing your child – they took him from you. You became defensive of your child, throwing yourself into dilemmas with whoever refused to listen to you. Except no one ever took notice of an angry and hurt mother because the CRM showed little mercy about their policies. And no matter how much force you put into finding hope about getting to your son, you'd always end up falling right back where you left off.

Soon enough you learned from acquiring an acquaintance that not only did the CRM take the only family you had left away from you, they were the ones responsible for destroying your home in the first place.

But now, six years later, you were predisposed to fight whoever and whatever got in your way in order to see your son again. You were a force to be reckoned with.

"No, you're doing it wrong. You gotta follow through, like this—" your sweaty hand maneuvered the heavy spear, sending it soaring through the air at high speed and finally piercing the bullseye of the target. You turned to the soldier beside you, who, to say the least, looked perplexed.

"What?" You huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face. "Ya give up? Need a break?"

"’Ey! Rogers, I'mma need ya to head back inside. We're gonna start sizing you all up for your new gear."

A brooding and strict man, Sergeant Major Rick Grimes, commanded the young man beside you. "Uh, yes sir," he saluted, then jogged toward the dome-shaped building.

Rick Grimes used to be a consignee like you were, and you even heard stories where he tried escaping at least four times. No one ever fled, or even attempted to, without failing. Escaping the hellhole was like trying to fit your right shoe on your left foot, it was entirely fruitless. But you heard all the stories about Rick, and how he got to become a leader. After the death of Lieutenant Colonel Donald Okafor, Rick was trained to replace his position by virtue of General Beale taking note of his loyalty to the military. Now, Rick was scaling further up the ranks. He was Sergeant Major, and in charge of the post you currently resided in.

You looked up to him, though, not because he was your leader, but because he understood you. He recognized how it felt to have your family ripped from your hands and not be able to do anything about it. You were able to bond with him. Most nights he would invite you to his apartment and the two of you'd spill your guts to one another over a glass or two of bourbon. That is how he got to know you, and see through your clouded demeanor that you kept in check. You were fierce and obstinate, because the place you were trapped in forced you to be that way, and truthfully Rick admired that about you. He was never able to relate with someone as well as he did with you.

Feedback echoed from Rick's receiver and he lifted it to his masked face, stating his position and whatnot. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to give you an order. "Well?"

He turned his attention to you, finally. "We need to talk." His one good hand snagged a hold of your arm and guided you toward a smaller brick-designed building, which you recognized to be the building that housed the high ranking officials like Rick himself.

"What do we need to talk about? And why is Rogers getting his gear but I'm not?" You struggled against his grip, a decision that ended with futility as his clutch tightened when you tried pulling away from him. You furrowed your brows and grunted in annoyance.

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not in trouble. Actually it's quite the opposite." Once again he faced you, stopping in his tracks as you both had reached the air-conditioned building. His grasp on your arm loosened and then reached for his matte black helmet detailed with red outlining. Your eyes darted across the room, taking in the essence of prestige and momentarily locking in on the various framed photos on the walls, which depicted a few recognizable CRM authoritative figures. One particular photo caught your attention, and you carefully examined it, discerning it to be Rick himself with a shiny black name plate decorating the bottom of the frame.

Your gaze finally diverted back to Rick, whose helmet popped off in a swift motion, freeing his slightly disheveled brown and gray curls, and his stern blue eyes – the spellbinding reflections to his enigmatic soul. And this man was undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes.

The silence was disrupted by the shuffling of Rick’s boots, his curt footsteps leading him across the room. He pulled out a chair from the corner and without any trouble picked it up with one hand and set it down across from a dark wooden desk. “Sit.” He motioned to the chair, and then found a seat in the larger, more cushioned chair adjacent to it. Without a peep you sauntered over to the wooden chair and sat, folding your hands on the desk in front of you.

“You gonna keep me on edge or are you gonna tell me why I’m here and not at training and getting my gear?”

His serious eyes bored into yours now, hinting that he wasn’t in the mood for your cynicism. “I brought you in here to tell you that you’re going to become Colonel under my order.”

You scoffed comically and dropped your hands to your sides, gripping the chair with force. “That’s ridiculous. Me – Colonel? Why?”

Rick’s focus never left your unserious face – one that was twisted with amusement. With a slight tilt of his head, he spoke, “Because you’re one of the best fighters and you’re fit to start leading, I know it. And I trust you, so does Major General Beale. We both expect your habitual commitment from now on.”

While you were still preoccupied with processing this information, Rick reached into one of his sleeve pockets and pulled out a silver badge, decorated with ‘Col.’ followed by your full name. He slid it across the desk toward you and you scrutinized it before giving him a look of disapproval and sliding the badge back to him. You shook your head in defiance.

“No thanks.”

He frowned and once again his frigid stare taunted you, something you’d undoubtedly gotten used to very much over the past few years that you'd known him. He leaned forward and for a second you could feel the steam emitting from his nose as he exhaled, eyes scanning your face for any signs of possible sarcasm. You were dead serious now, though.

“This isn’t an offer you can refuse. It’s an order,” the sergeant commanded, grabbing the badge reiteratively and this time placing it firmly into your hand. “So take it, and don’t lose it.”

You remained perched in your spot, not stirring any muscle, just studying his face with the badge dancing across your fingertips. Rick was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Now do as I say, and meet me in that meeting room over there, in 10 minutes.”

You snarled and swiftly rose, shoving the badge into your zipper pocket. Without even giving Rick another look you booked it out the door full tilt.

All throughout meeting with Grimes and Command Sergeant Major Thorne and overlooking your shared brigade of soldiers, your mind couldn’t escape the worry you had about your son, and how you were going to escape and find him. Your mind raced as you tried to recollect what the map of your base looked like, so that you could pinpoint which weak spots there were around the perimeter.

You recall a little while back which security took which shifts at each area of the southwest perimeter where your complex was, but it wasn’t all that simple since sometimes they’d switch shifts around. However, security officers periodically switched their attention to different areas at a time out along the walls, so you could use that as leverage to sneak your way around and cut a hole in one of the fences–

Nah. That would be too obvious, and dangerously stupid. You needed to really think this through – come up with a strategic plan. So that’s what you were prepared to do after your first night of training as Colonel.

Sweaty and disheveled, you entered your sleeping quarters and kicked the door shut, immediately peeling off your bulky armor and tossing your heavy combat boots across the floor. With a satisfactory sigh, you trotted over to the shower and flipped the handle all the way to the left – you needed a steamy shower to filter out all the stress your body had been loaded with that day. Not only that, the steam would help you think, and you needed your head clear if you were going to figure out how to leave successfully that night.

If you were going to escape – if. You needed to keep that thought in mind, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a piece of cake.

Frantically you shoved a handful of essentials into a black backpack – a lighter, duct tape, a pocket knife, flashlight, and a small glock you 'borrowed' from your trip with rick to the armory earlier. After zipping up the bag you threw on your combat boots and your gloves. You checked your watch for the time; 11:48 it read. The moon was scintillating in the sky and beaming with conviction. You took one last glimpse around the room to check if you had forgotten any extra tools or gadgets, and before you confirmed that you were ready to head out, you spotted something on the rusty gunmetal colored nightstand.

Inquisitively you wandered over to the table and examined a small, white folded paper. You unfolded it and inside it read, in urgent script:

“Meet me at my place at 11:30 tonight. Need to talk again.

-R.G.”

Too late now. Not happening. Besides, you were sure it was another booty call because for one, on busy task days like tonight, Rick often had a knack for ‘letting off steam,’ which meant fucking your brains out. Sorry, Rick, but my child is more important to me than easing your sexual frustration. And two, it was already reaching midnight…why else would he want to “talk” to you so late at night? Rick was just too obvious.

Speaking of Rick…

The man who shared his bourbon with you for the first time two years ago. That very night he had spilled to you CRM’s legacy and the nightmares behind it. The two of you bonded over your mutual grievance toward the antagonizing militia. Rick spurred hope in you finally leaving and finding your son; if anyone could help you escape it was him. But he changed – his interest in leaving the CRM no longer seemed to exist. After all, he was already climbing his way up the military rank. He was gaining power and respect, and that seemed to be more crucial to him then getting back to his own children.

So, screw him. He had his chance to leave with you, and it already passed – because now you were tiptoeing out your apartment and being welcomed into the darkness of the night.

You were cautious of your surroundings, turning a few corners and eluding one or two officers. You noticed the southwest wall, which didn't look impossible to climb. You discovered a hefty pile of broken shipment container parts – bingo. And that's what you used to climb the wall. unfortunately your endeavor led to you stumbling and hitting both your knee and your arm against the metal object, then landing with your hands scraping against the unforgiving concrete. Fuck. What an idiot you were. Surely someone within about twenty feet of you heard you basically eat shit.

Gritting your teeth and whimpering from the twinge that shot through your knees and hands, you managed to put every fiber of your being to use and push yourself off the ground, only to end up on your ass with a humph. You winced as you peeked at your hands, using the flashlight from your bag to examine how badly cut they were. Blood leaked from multiple crevices in your palms, and you didn’t even bother paying much mind to your bruised knee or elbows because there was no time to dawdle.

“Shit. You need to get up now!” You scolded yourself, but as you tried standing up completely, your knees buckled. Well, at least behind this building it was dark enough for no one to see you, unless they heard you already…

Your alert ears picked up the sound of shoes marching upon the solid ground, and you cursed to yourself; someone was coming, but there was nothing you could do because they had already heard you most likely. “Just play dead, or pretend you passed out!”

You heard your name being called out from somewhere behind you.

The pace of your heartbeat quickened drastically, causing your head to spin toward the voice. Well, shit. It was Rick Grimes himself. This time his helmet wasn’t on and he seemed to have abandoned his uniform. He was instead dressed in jeans and that black tee that always hugged his muscles so perfectly–

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice boomed in your ears as he knelt down to your level, and you shivered.

You wheezed and resumed your pursuit of getting your ass off the wretched ground, to which you failed. Rick noticed the cuts and bruises decorating your injured body and his face softened. He sighed, gathering your belongings, and then in one swift motion he lifted you up off your feet, holding you bridal-style. You bit your lip to stop the tears forming in your eyes; your plan backfired, you got caught, and now everything was out of your control. You felt so stupid and useless.

Rick shifted around with you in his arms, taking one last glance at your injured figure. “Oh, honey. Let’s get ya cleaned up now.”

He had carried you all the way to his room without any hindrances, and the whole time you honestly thought about kicking out of his tight grasp, nailing him where the sun doesn't shine, and booking it out of there. But the way his strong arms cradled you made you melt into him.

Rick lay you onto his large – well, larger than your own – neatly made bed and pulled your shoes and socks off. Before he could reach your pant zipper to pull them down and examine your knee, you slapped his hand away, scowling at him.

“I can do it,” you promised, although of course your trembling hands reaching for the zipper illustrated a paradoxical story.

Not to mention, the stained blood and soreness reminded you that you needed to ease up on any further use of them. It felt like carpal tunnel. Damn, that concrete did some numbers on you. Your exasperated grunts caught Rick’s attention and he ignored your misleading comment, zipping your pants down and peeling them off himself. The look you gave him could have been detected as either annoyed or demoralized. Either way, your body was weary and your mind still raced with unrelenting thoughts.

Rick brought back a wet cloth and a first aid kit he kept under his sink. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth over your battered hands and then bandaged them up. You let out a few pained huffs while he went to work on your scraped hands and busted knee with his doctor abilities. When finished, his eyes scanned your body, being certain he didn’t miss any other wounds or minor cuts.

You, however, were busy ogling him; his beautifully sculpted figure that was outlined by the black t-shirt he wore, and the scruff that layered his defined jaw, and the way his pink lips pursed as his rough hand prodded your exposed flesh – it sent you into a trance.

He adjusted his gaze back to your face, and you snapped out of your trance promptly, painting that stern cast back on your expressive face. You recalled why you were irritated with him in the first place – he prevented you from escaping.

“Y’alright now? Gonna tell me why you were scurrying around past midnight with this bag on you?”

Your hard stare didn’t falter. He tsked at you and grabbed the backpack off the ground, unzipping it, and dumping its contents onto the bed. When he recognized the gun to be one from the armory, it was his turn to scowl at you.

“You better start talking before I get angry, sweetheart.” His body flexed as he folded his arms across his chest, eyes cornering you and making you feel small.

“I was–” you cleared your throat and sat up with your hands on your bare thighs, “I was going to escape, Rick. I… I need to see him…”

Rick lowered his head to the floor in disappointment, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his other arm rested on his hip. He paced the room. “You knew this was going to happen. We even planned it together, for fuck’s sake!” You pleaded with him, emotion spilling from your lips. You stared at his back, watching the way his muscles tensed. “I have a child I haven’t seen in years and I–”

“Yeah, so do I!” He interrupted, “But that life is over, there is no more escape plan pipe dream. Don’t you get it?!”

His pacing ceased, and he waited for your focus to meet him. When it did, he inched toward you daringly, almost wanting you to test his patience.

“I got you that ranking because I trusted you and expected you to be cooperative with me in this mission. I was planning on trying to convince Beale to let you visit your boy but that won’t be for a while. I need your trust in this,” Rick’s footsteps approached the bed, his towering figure intimidating you. “Do you understand? Look at me—” his rough hand pinched the sides of your chin to tilt your head up at him.

Your lips cracked open to speak but truthfully nothing could be said in that moment. The tension in the air was heavy and laced with despondency. You choked trying to enunciate words as you felt your shoulders drop, and your heart chugging on. Soon you gathered yourself from breaking down in front of him, masking the persistent commotion going on inside the walls of your skull, and the unabated sense of dread pouring over your body. You nodded your head in compliance and Rick released your chin.

This was a confirmation that Rick was never going to let you get away. And if he did end up finding a way for you to see your boy, living under an unlawful and controlling military organization was not something you stood for. With or without Rick, you needed to escape with your son, using any proper chance that swung your way. But if it was going to be without Rick, you needed to be secretive.

You batted your eyes at him, aiming to give him a reason to believe that you were officially yielding to him. The way you looked under him, all battered and desperate, made a spark ignite in his brain. You belonged in this position – underneath him, following his lead, and obeying his orders. He was going to need to show you how insistent he really was.

Your attention remained undivided. Rick stepped backwards a foot and took in the sight of you – your whole body and the way your thighs begged to be kissed and touched.

“I’m assuming you saw the note I left you, right?” His tone dripping with vehemence and his southern drawl rasping, relaying a yearning to your eager core, which you attempted to ease by clenching your thighs. He certainly did not miss that.

“So you were planning on not only ignoring my note, but being reckless and trying to leave this post and then, what? Risk getting caught and dying and never getting to see your son ever? You need to get your head on right, and I’m telling you this from experience, because it’s never going to work out the way you want it to, no matter how perfectly you think your plan will go.”

You gulped and studied your hands, which were thankfully stinging much less. You fiddled with the bandage, until Rick demanded your attention with his authoritative tone.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you to cooperate with me. Keep that in mind,” he warned.

Your front teeth bit into your pouty bottom lip as you struggled to make yourself look uncritical of his “plan.” Rick’s eyes targeted your every move as you, this time successfully, propped yourself up and off the bed, bending down to grab your pants which were sprawled out next to your feet.

💋

“What were you gonna talk to me about, y’know….if I ended up showing up earlier?” You flipped the pant legs so that they were no longer inside out.

“I was gonna do this—” Your heart quickened as he neared you rapidly, his arms finding themselves exploring your body and causing goosebumps to multiply across your vulnerable skin. He dexterously greeted his lips to yours, catching you by surprise. The man was quick with it.

You melted into the kiss while his hands continued to trace your curves, eliciting longing whimpers from your throat. You craved his touch.

Breaking away from the kiss, the Sergeant gave you no time to protest, spinning you around so that your back was facing him. Taking your jaw prisoner in the tight clutch of his hand, his hot breath fanned against your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck come alive. “Originally I was going to fuck you gently, make you relax from your big day—” His hand slid to the middle of your back and he forcefully bent you over on the bed, scoring a small grunt from you. He took your pulled back hair into his hand and with a tantalizing tug of it, he pushed his clothed hips against your bare ass. “But now I’m not gonna be so easy on you, because you decided to go and put yourself in danger. Well, I’m gonna have to punish you instead of reporting you, hm? For your own sake…”

Your heat practically leaked through your panties and down the inner part of your thighs. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you loved when he was rough with you. It stirred you up with the perfect concoction of salaciousness and angst.

Still, your alacrity temporarily repressed your aroused state and you barked back at him, “All I want is to see my son…you have no goddamn right to take that from me, Rick,” you cried, with your trembling hands supporting your upper body as he gripped your hips.

Rick delivered a firm slap to your ass cheek, then promptly straightened you up and turned you around to meet his sifting stare. You gulped, feeling submissive under his touch. You watched the way he contorted his face in vexation and you abruptly felt overpowered by him.

“In case you’ve forgotten you are under my command, and if you disobey me I have every right to correct you where I see fit,” he eyed your pout, huffing, “and I fucking told you already – you have to be patient, it’s gonna take a while.”

The hope you had was dwindling slowly, even though you really wanted to trust him. It almost felt like putting your full trust in him was equivalent to playing with fire. You couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore. But ultimately Rick was right, you were under his command and the very least you could do at this moment was take his word.

His leer intensified. “Get on your knees.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the command jolt through your body with a cogent nudge. You conformed to his request and scrunched your face in slight discomfort from your bruised knee making contact with the floor, but it was still tolerable. With urgency he unbuckled his belt and wasted no time in freeing his thick, throbbing length. The sight of his cock was not something foreign, as you’d slept with him many times; but the way he was so much more ambitious in getting his cock inside your mouth and feeling you gag around him, made you squirm.

The restless man bucked his hips forward, enjoying the way your soft pouty lips hugged his shaft so magnificently. You moaned softly, the vibration inciting a groan from Rick as he grabbed at your hair. “Gotta do more than tha’. I know you know how to be a good slut f’me.”

You took his whole length in your throat, feeling spit drip down your chin as you choked. You started to bob your head back and forth, becoming accustomed to the size of his dick and how it collided with the back of your throat incessantly. He took it upon himself to grasp your head and guide you up and down as his hips pushed against your needy mouth. Your tongue traced the veins that protruded across his length, as your head quickened its pace. His grunts echoed in your ears and you prepared for his sweet release when you apperceived the twitch of his cock against your tongue.

“Fuck, yes…good slut,” Rick sung out as he thrusted thrice more, shooting his thick warm seed down your throat and riding out the remainder of his orgasm. He pulled out and stared intently at your lips licking up the remnants of his juices while panting. His hand patted your head in approval.

“You think you deserve to cum tonight?” He taunted, his hold on your hair taut.

You didn’t respond, but instead observed the way his muscles flexed when he lifted his shirt off his back, and how he flattened his hair back with the palm of his hand. You were getting wetter by the second, shifting your thighs in anticipation.

You stood up, tracing your hand over his bicep and fluttering your lashes at him enticingly. He smirked, recognizing that look to be your calling for him to fuck your brains out. Your hands reached down to lift your own shirt off, but he swatted them away in protest, throwing the shirt across the room hastily. All you desired was for him to make love to you, to comfort you and promise you that everything was going to work out, and frankly your sore muscles from training could use as much appreciation as they could obtain. But love-making wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

Rick flopped you onto the bed, and effortlessly your panties were torn off and thrown next to your shirt. He kneaded your tits with his hand then bent over top of you to hungrily kiss your lips. Your fidgety hands stretched up to tussle through his hair but he broke from the kiss to pin both your hands above your head, rousing a dissatisfied whimper from you. The carnal man bent down diligently to grab his belt and release your hands for a moment, before grabbing your wrists and securing the belt around them.

Bondage wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to you but you had never expected Rick to ever want to partake in it with you. Nonetheless, your core ached further for his touch. His hand went back to pinching your sensitive nipples, while keeping his ferocious eyes locked onto yours, and lowering his head down to your throbbing heat. The lewd mewls escaping your parted lips sent Rick into a frenzy. You bucked your hips up in an attempt to get him to do something, to give your desperate parts the treatment you longed for, except he just remained concentrated on the way you jerked and crumbled beneath him – he wasn’t even touching you anymore, and yet he had you folding already. How pathetic you looked.

“Rick, please do something!” Your pleas left him unphased. The only thought in his mind at that moment was how rough he was eventually going to fuck you.

Finally, his finger swiped up your soaking folds and came into contact with your swollen clit, giving it a soft pinch, stimulating a ribald whimper from you and inducing your back to arch off the bed. “What d’you want, sweetheart?” His husky tone intimidated you.

“Need you, please. ‘M lonely,” You sniffed, overworked from all the teasing. He cooed in a mocking manner, and with two fingers he plunged into you, sending you into the clouds.

“This sweet pussy needs attention, dun’it?” He curled his fingers upward, activating that sweet spot inside your squelching sex. With his thumb he circled around your sensitive bud, accelerating the speed of his thick fingers inside your tight, wet hole. Bliss clouded over you, and your head lulled to the side.

Rick hissed, dissenting your lack of eye contact. He yanked his fingers out all the way, giving a slight tap to your voracious cunt.

“Nuh-uh, eyes on me.” The glazed-over look you gave him was enough for him to give in and slide his digits back into your heat, this time being merciless by the way he finger fucked you with racking momentum.

Your walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers, legs syncing with the rhythm of your swirling hips. Rick sensed your orgasm approaching – he ascertained that you didn't get to reach its peak by ceasing his thumb's labor and plucking his drenched digits out of your weeping center.

Your sensual clamors didn't go unnoticed; instead he hushed you, and bringing his mouth near your ear he rasped, "I decided that you don't get to cum yet. Not till I feel like it."

Rick really loved tossing you around, especially tonight. He arose, untying the belt around your wrists – almost as if he was showing mercy, but that thought was surpassed as he effortlessly flipped you around so your bandaged hands were gripping desperately onto the sheets, as if that'd prevent you from losing your grip on reality from what was about to go down.

Your begging hole cried for his further attention, causing you to become more agitated by the second. That is, until you felt his hard cock slap against your ass cheek, and his hips striking the back of your shaking thighs. The grumpy commander pressed his leather-sling gloved fist slightly against your upper neck, just enough pressure to ensure you stayed where he wanted you. You didn't plan on leaving, though – not until he fucked you to your heart's content.

He could take a picture right now, the way your ass pushed against his solid member so hysterically, as if your pussy lived to be stuffed by his cock. In that moment, it did. Rick grabbed his cock and lined it up with your welcoming entrance, collecting the condensation on his tip.

"God, just fuck me–"

One rigid thrust was all it took for you to fully engulf him. Your eyes rolled to the ceiling, stars eclipsing your vision while his thrust followed another one, this time much deeper.

Your whines bounced off the pale room's walls, alerting Rick, who hushed you with a growl, "Shutch'er mouth, the whole building's gonna hear ya."

A third thrust ensued, with the sound of his pelvic bone smacking against your backside and the echoing of your sodden cunt being governed by his greedy shaft. The wet squishy insides of your walls hugged Rick so magnetically, he almost gave in right there.

His pace picked up with each ram of his hips, and his assault to your clit. Your grip on the sheets tightened, bandages likely slipping off but that wasn't a concern. Shy whimpers were trapped inside your mouth as you gave it your all at keeping your lewd blubbers and cusses at bay. Your soft, muffled cries continued as he pounded into you strenuously and tirelessly.

"You're not gonna try to leave again, not ever." The thumping of his hips on your ass and him fucking you into the mattress was all too much for your brain. "I won't fucking let you."

You felt fuzzy. The dauntless rebel attitude you once had vanished, and now your were a blubbering hot mess under a relentless leader. His bulging biceps flexed as his leather arm continued pushing on your neck, the other hand groping your hip and then going back to flicking your clit as his cock rutted into your core. He fit you like a puzzle piece.

Your walls were pulsating and you sensed your climax approaching quickly. "Oh, fuck, Rick!"

"Don't you even think about it. So help me god, if you do..."

Rick's demands only filled you closer to the brim with pleasure, and you weren't assured how much longer you could hold it. His thrusts became sloppier and sloppier, indicating that he was probably close too.

"Mmmph–" You focused on grasping desperately at the sheets again, trying to fixate on the way the soft fabric felt against your hands and your face which was pushed into the bed.

Rick groaned out, whispering filthy affirmations as his pounding became more jagged and his grunts more urgent. "Wanna fill ya up, but you don'need another baby, not yet."

One last press against your clit and the band finally snapped, your juices releasing all over his cock, and his orgasm causing him to grasp your hips roughly as he used your dripping hole to help him ride out his own orgasm. He pulled out, releasing onto your back with a few strokes of his slippery member.

The bottom half of your body gave in finally, collapsing and being suffocated by the plush mattress. Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. He truly fucked the energy out of you.

"You gonna try that shit again with me?"

With half-lidded eyes you simpered and muttered, "Not without you."

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