#no pregnancies in my family lately | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sl-ut · 2 months ago

Text

princess of the north

in case i dont end up posting again over the holidays, i just wanna say i hope everyone has a great holiday season and a very very happy new year!!!!

pairing: cregan stark x fem!targtower!pregnant!reader

description: cregan has grown older and happier throughout his years as warden of the north with his beautiful new wife at his side. however, when he married into the royal family, he had not considered how frequently he would need to interact with his in-laws.

warnings: NO DANCE AU!!! (rhaenyra ascends the throne peacefully), weird blend of book and show timeline, slight description of character (silver hair, purple eyes, that’s it!!!), smut, reader gets pregnant like halfway through, pregnancy sex, oral, piv, SEX IN FRONT OF A FIREPLACE ON A BEARSKIN RUGGGG oml

words: 9.7K

date posted: 10/12/24

part two

The winter had been very forgiving, thank the gods. It had been remarkably short, just under eight years in total, meaning that it had come to a close with plenty of food still in storage and northerners who were more than willing and able to transition into the oncoming summer with ease.

Winterfell was left in a generally stable state, aside from the fact that there was a greater need for livestock now that they not only had an additional mouth to feed, but also a fully grown dragon who resided in a make-shift dragonpit only a few minutes ride beyond the walls of the castle–a wedding gift that the Lord of Winterfell had prepared in anticipation of his new wife’s arrival. Otherwise, the North seemed to be in greater shape upon the dawn of this new summer than it had in all of Cregan’s years.

The greatest of Cregan’s accomplishments, of course, was his new wife. At the beginning of the winter, he had not expected that he would be married by the end of it, but with the arrival of Prince Jaeaerys on his official tour of the realm also came his proposal of marriage between Lord Cregan and his own aunt, the youngest daughter of the late King Viserys I and his second wife, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower. He had been hesitant to consider this offer–he’d never met the woman, which was not uncommon for marriages of such high status, but he’d been fortunate enough to have been able to form some sort of friendship with his late wife prior to their union. Jace had brought along with him the terms offered by his mother, in her own hand, of course, as well as a portrait of the woman in question.

Cregan was not above admitting how taken he’d been with the sight of the princess, even if it were only a recreation of her beauty on canvas. He’d heard of her beauty before, it was rumoured around the realm, but seeing it was entirely different, a sort of beauty he could not have imagined on his own.

“Tell me, my prince,” Cregan asked him, hardly drawing his crystal blue gaze away from the portrait, “you are her blood and have grown up with the princess, is this painting to her likeness?”

Jacaerys smirked, “Of course, Lord Stark. My aunt is known to be one of the most beautiful women ever to live.”

Cregan pursed his lips. He was aware of the strange customs of the Targaryens, having married brother to sister and uncle to niece for generations. Jacaerys could be speaking the truth, for he himself could hold some sort of affection for his aunt, but Cregan did not suspect as such. Intead, his greater question was whether Jacaerys could be lying to him out of political gain; as his mother’s envoy, it would do him no good to suggest that the artist had not accurately painted her. Her looks were of no concern to him, but he valued honour and truth over all else. If they were attempting to attract him to the deal by portraying the princess as such a beauty over anything else, he would be personally insulted to discover that he’d been lied to, a snub from the royal family would not be taken kindly by House Stark.

“What say you?” Cregan turned to the group of men standing just to the left of the prince, all who seemed alarmed at Lord Stark’s attention being turned to them, “How do each of you vouch for the princess?”

The men, one at a time, attested to the princess’s beauty until he stood before the smallest and visibly youngest of the men.

“And you, lad?”

“I’m afraid the portrait fails to depict the princess, milord,” The boy grew rosy in the cheeks as he imagined the princess in his mind, eyes drawing towards the portrait, “That is her, yes, but only as close as the Master Holbein could have made it, for I do not think it possible to recreate such beauty. She is gifted by the gods, surely, milord, both in beauty and manner. She is kind, brings food and toys to orphans in Flea Bottom and ev’rything, milord.”

Cregan, taken aback by the answer from the youngest boy, turned back to Prince Jacaerys, who seemed equally as surprised as he did pleased with the answers of his men.

“This is true, milord,” Jace said, “the princess is known among the people for her generosity, among her other talents and traits. It cannot be denied that her mother, the Queen Dowager, was not fond of my family, nor us of her, but the princess was raised better than any of us, I would say. Take the night to think on it, I would hope to send word to the queen before I leave Winterfell at noon.”

Cregan did as instructed, thinking on it long and hard. Her beauty had been their main selling point, something that could not be denied from the portrait sent of her. Lord Stark had half a mind to hang it upon the mantle in his bedchambers whether he takes her to wife or not, but it was not her beauty that had truly swayed his decision. Instead, he thought over the young lad’s words; a southern lady scarcely thrives in the North, a nation nearly as large on its own as all of the remaining six kingdoms put together. The weather was harsh, and the people were harsher, something he could not imagine a Targaryen princess handling well. However, he’d heard of Alicent Hightower’s assertiveness and ability to lead while her husband was incapable and Rhaenyra was in Dragonstone. If what Jacaerys had told him was true, the princess would be dutiful and loyal, and according to the prince’s men, kind beyond words. Beauty may have factored into his decision on a personal level, but he also met the prince the next morning with his acceptance mostly on the basis that he believed that the princess would be wholly capable of helping him rule the North.

He wrote to her a week after Jacaerys departed from Winterfell, certain that the news would have already arrived in the capitol and she would already be aware of their arrangement. He would have little time between her arrival in the north and their wedding to meet with her in private, so this was his best hope. He was pleased to receive a raven in return only three days later, neat handwriting befitting a princess scrawled across the parchment. It was not much, but Cregan was able to learn some things about her through the letters, making it seem like he was less-so marrying a stranger and more as if she were a distant friend.

The month following, the princess would depart from King’s Landing in a procession he was told seemed a mile long. He waited with anticipation, Winterfell in a flurry of servants and guards to prepare the castle to house the royal family and their household, as well as for the wedding itself, and only one more month would pass before his bride had arrived within the walls of Winterfell.

Cregan had bowed respectfully to the Queen Dowager as she stepped out of her wheelhouse, then to the two silver-haired princes who arrived on their steeds. His eyes scanned the growing crowd for any sight of his betrothed, finally catching sight of her as she took the hand of a Dornish white cloak to balance herself as she exited the wheelhouse, a pretty white fur-lined cloak wrapped around her shoulders, almost blending into the pale blonde of her hair. She was, indeed, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had traditional Valyrian looks, but also held an aura of softness.

She was nervous as she curtsied before her, but seemed happy enough with his appearance and manners as he greeted her with a kiss to her leather-gloved knuckle. The moment was broken apart by her mother’s level tone, requesting to be brought to her chambers for some rest before supper. That evening Cregan found the portrait of the princess that he’d received months earlier and personally hung it above the mantle in his bedchambers. He thought it was safe to say he was smitten.

The princess appeared bashful in his presence, though he was partially certain that her discomfort was brought on by her ever-present family, each looming nearby as if waiting to intercept his attempts of conversation with his betrothed. He could not decide who he had grown to loathe the most; Aegon had already drank a generous portion of Winterfell’s wine cellars even before the wedding, and often joined the conversation with the goal to tease his sister and see her shrink in embarrassment; Aemond was constantly looking to best anyone in his path, and seemed almost possessive over his sister’s attention; her mother had hardly allowed them a moment alone, constantly insisting on supervising any time that he would invite her for any sort of activity, or set one of her brothers after them instead. Alicent had a habit of speaking for her daughter, meaning that Cregan had no opportunity to truly know her while her mother was present, while her brothers made it impossible to even speak to one another at all.

He was finally glad on their wedding night, when he’d arranged the head table to be broken into three, leaving the happy couple to sit above the rest and finally receive some alone time. She had been radiant in her gown of white furs and fleeces, meeting him beneath the weirwood tree with her eldest brother at her side to give her away. He’d been glad to tear away the cloak of red and black, intricately interwoven into a field of green and gold at the bottom–it would be unlike Alicent Hightower to allow her children to wear the Rhaenyra’s colours without her own as well. It would be hard to tell whether she looked prettier in the harsh colours of her maiden cloak or in the dull ones of his own, but he couldn’t help but note how greys and blues suited her better than he could have imagined.

He could tell her family was less than pleased with this arrangement, making an effort to step in for every miniscule matter that caught their attention. Cregan watched her from the corner of her eye as she shakily took a long drink from her cup. He finally found time to chat with his wife, slowly watching in awe as her walls slowly began to come down as she found herself giggling along with him and whispering into his ear.

“What of the leftovers?” She’d asked, breaking their previous conversation topic.

“Leftovers?” Cregan repeated.

She nodded, staring at him with wide eyes expectantly, “The food. There will be plenty of leftovers–they should be brought to the nearest towns.”

“Is that a command, princess?”

She appeared bashful at his response, walls slowly building back up around her, “I-I- My apologies, Lord Stark, I–”

He grinned at her playfully, his large palm cupping her cheek affectionately, “If you wish it, you shall have it. I intend to make you very happy, my love.”

She smiled, her beauty shining through even stronger as she became more and more comfortable around him, “Thank you, husband.”

Cregan pushed himself to stand, the sound of his chair pushing back cutting through the chatter and music and laughter filling his hall, all eyes turning to him expectantly.

“My lady wife has made her first official command as Lady of Winterfell,” his voice carried through the hall with stern ease, and the attention of the crows quickly turned to her, “Lady Stark has decided that all leftovers from our wedding feast will be donated to the people of Winterstown.”

The crowd had been quick to applaud, deafening cheers throughout the great hall, northerners seemingly pleased with her decision or, at the very least, just excited to have another reason to be celebrating. He caught the glance she sent to her mother, and the happy grin that covered her face as the Dowager Queen sent her a sign of approval. His lady wife was kind, and sweet, and he was certain that, once she gained her footing in the North, would serve as a strong and dutiful Lady of Winterfell, all of which he muttered into her ear as he had her for the very first time that night.

Three years would pass, he’d been right to assume such things of his wife. He’d quickly discovered that she was able to thrive without the looming shadow of her mother and brothers. She had been slow to find her footing in the beginning, some of his bannermen even questioning his choice in wife, but she was determined to prove them wrong, and in doing so, warmed Cregan’s heart even more.

They’d discussed children in the past, and both had decided that they were happy enough with Cregan’s son from his previous marriage for the time being. They were not trying, but they were also not not trying, which is how she found herself swelling with her first child just as winter came to an end. Her husband had been insatiable in their first year of marriage, but once he knew that she carried his child in her belly, there was scarcely anything that could stop him from having her each and every night.

Summer brought a homier feeling to Winterfell. People were not quite so afraid or negative as the desolate conditions faded away. Summer in the North was nothing compared to the many summers she had spent in King’s Landing, where she had once enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her skin, exposed beneath her more revealing gowns than those she was able to wear in the North; the lords of the North had criticised her choice in dresses early on in her marriage, and she had no doubt that their wives spoke harshly about her in her absence. She was by far the youngest of them, and was also the only one who could afford to wear such fine silks layered over her thick fleece and fur underdresses. Cregan knew better than to try and argue against his wife’s will–Lady Stark or not, she was a Targaryen princess through and through, and now that he had helped her build up her confidence, there was no way he was about to take that away from her (especially when she looked so so beautiful). She was thankful that she was able to cut down on the layers she needed now that the weather had transitioned from inhospitable to frigid, though she knew it was coming time to transition her wardrobe as well now that her breasts and belly were beginning to swell.

The change in season also brought a wave of new duties. Winter was undoubtedly the most difficult and busy season for the lord and lady of Winterfell, but the transition to summer also brought the beginning of the agricultural season. Farmers and fishermen alike flocked to Winterfell to speak their needs and wants to their liege lord and lady, and Cregan found himself busy with attending to the replenishment of all of the North’s resources for Winterfell, all of his bannermen, the Wall, and all of the towns in the North. He’d made his wife agree to take a lesser load of duties now that she was expecting, dealing with issues within their own household so he could instead focus on bearing the burdens of the North all on his own, though this meant there was less and less time that they were able to spend together.

Each morning, Lady Stark was awake and on the move early enough to meet with the maester and stewards and advisors, sharing no more than a few sweet words and touches with her husband as he watched her dress before she was out the door. They would see each other in passing throughout the day, sharing loving glances across the courtyard as they attended their duties and occasionally catching each other in the corridors, and she was normally in a deep slumber by the time he came to her chambers every night. Both of them were growing restless in their time apart, especially with her ladyship’s heightened emotions and hormones.

She had just finished speaking with the mistress of the orphanage in Winterstown when the maester came to her, a neatly folded piece of parchment in hand that bore her mother’s seal. She smiled to herself as she brushed her thumb over the thick spot of green wax, glad to have a response for her most recent letter to her mother to deliver the news of her pregnancy, along with a request for some new silks to be sent in order to accommodate her changing body. Breaking the seal, she scanned over the letter with her eyes, a small gasp leaving her mouth as she read over her mother’s words.

“My lady?” Maester Elryn asked, concern evident on his wrinkled features, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she smiled tightly at him, “My apologies for my reaction. Could you ask Lord Stark to come to me when he is free?”

“Of course, my lady. Anything else?”

“That is all, thank you, Maester Elryn.”

Cregan came to her two hours later, finding her seated at the small desk in the corner of her chambers. He paused to drink in the way she looked, having scarcely seen his wife for more than a moment all day. Her body was changing in the most glorious ways possible, and the bodices of her gowns were growing even tighter than before, her breasts threatening to spill over the neckline with every breath, and her belly growing firmer and rounder to accommodate his child. His smile widened as she turned to glance over her shoulder, her eyes softening as she finally took note of her husband’s figure in the doorway.

“You called, wife?”

“My love,” she greeted, pushing herself to stand with a gentle hand cradling her barely-there bump, “It seems it has been forever.”

His heart thumped against his ribcage at her action, chest growing warm at the sight of her maternal instincts already kicking in before she had even passed through her first few months

He closed the door behind him, crossing the room to meet her before she was able to move too far. His palm cupped her cheek, the other finding its place over her own against her belly, “Longer than forever to me.”

She grinned, leaning up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips, giggling to herself as he chased after her and grunted as she pulled away. He pressed small kisses to her cheeks, across the curve of her jaw, and down the column of her neck, leaving small nips in his wake. His wife pushed at his chest helplessly as she continued to laugh, the soft growth of hair along his own jaw tickling her with every brush of his lips on her skin.

“I called you up here because I needed to speak with you,” she whispered to him, body slowly relaxing against him as she sank into his embrace.

“Speak, then,” he ordered, thick fingers tugging at the laces of her dress.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at his antics, “I wrote to my mother a few nights ago, I need silk for new dresses. I’m sure you’ve noticed that my own are growing rather…tight.”

His mouth dropped to nip at the bulging flesh of her breast peeking over the neckline of her gown, “I certainly have.”

Her head tilted back, letting both a laugh and a breathy moan at her husband’s attack on her chest as he quickly laid her back on the bed, “She has written back to me. She says I shall have as much silk in as many colours as I wish.”

Cregan hummed in response, quickly peeling the layers of her gown away until she was left in only her thin white shift, her words going ignored as he tugged and pulled at her clothing until she was bare before him. He stared down at her, running his hand over his jaw as his eyes trailed over her breasts, heaving and swelling with milk, then down over her small bump, and finally to the place where her thighs clenched together.

She pushed herself up to sit before him, her own hands reaching out to tug at his clothing. He was quick to help her, shucking off his layers and boots until he stood before her in only his heavy leather breeches. His wife grinned up at him, pressing a gentle kiss against his own belly, a layer of soft flesh over his firm, almost inconspicuous muscle.

He pushed at her shoulder, chuckling as the mattress bounced beneath her as she was laid back again. He crawled over her, returning to mouthing over her neck, over her shoulders, and finally coming across her breasts.

“She says she will deliver them personally,” she uttered, whining in protest as he paused, pulling back to focus directly at her face.

“Personally,” He repeated, more for his own sake than a question of clarification, “your mother intends to come to Winterfell.”

She pouted at him, fingers carding through his long hair as she attempted to soften him to the news, “She wishes to be here for the birth. I know she can be…difficult, but it would bring me comfort to have her with me as I bring our firstborn into the world.”

He sighed, his head falling into her shoulder, “If this is what you wish, then this is what you shall have.

She smiled, remembering when he spoke the same words to her on their wedding night. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, winding her legs around his hips and hugging her tightly to her chest.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him as he finally pushed himself up to gaze down at her once again, “my mother can be difficult, as I said, but I wish for her to know her grandchildren, as she does my niece and nephews. I promise you, she will be on her best behaviour.”

“I believe you,” He pressed a kiss to her lips, mumbling against her, “but I must ask that we do not speak any more of your mother at the present. I do not think she would appreciate what I plan to do to you.”

Cregan did not allow her another moment of peace before his kisses grew in intensity, tongue intertwining with her own while his meaty palms pulled her legs further apart and began to rock his hips into hers. He smirked at the whine that escaped her throat, pressing himself further into her.

“Cregan–”

“I have missed you, my love,” he moaned against her lips, “you cannot possibly believe how much I have been longing for you.”

She chuckled, “I think I can. The maester told me pregnancy can bring on many side effects; discomfort, fatigue, desire…”

Cregan pulled back for a moment, “Should I be concerned about these conversations you have been having with Maester Elryn?”

She scoffed, “You are far too jealous for your own good, my love.”

“You might be too, if you were married to the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms–nay, the world.”

“Flatterer.”

“Can it be called flattery if it is the truth?” Cregan pushed himself to kneel between her legs, palms continuing to push her thighs upward to bare her completely to him. He let out a desperate groan as his eyes settled on her core, barely hidden beneath a neat patch of silver hair, “gods, have you ever been this wet?”

She snorted, raising her leg to press her foot flat to his chest, “It is the pregnancy, as I said.”

His long fingers wrapped around her foot, tugging it up to press his lips against the slope of her ankle, “Then perhaps I should keep you like this, eh? Would you like for your lord husband to fill you with his child, again and again?”

“I am already with child, my love,” she smiled at him, drawing a deep breath from his throat, “I’m afraid you will have to wait a few moons longer.”

“And I will spend every second I have with you perfecting the craft then.”

She sighed in relief as he finally reached between her thighs, fingers catching against her slick hole.

“Cregan, please,” she whimpered, “do something, anything.”

“Anything?” He asked, breathlessly, his own chest heaving in anticipation as she nodded excitedly.

A loud gasp tore from her lips as he finally sunk his fingers into her, her wetness audible to them both as he began moving with slow but purposeful thrusts. His thumb settled on her sensitive bud, making slow, tight circles over the swollen bud, his free hand gliding up from her thigh to tug at her breasts. Her hips rocked in sync with his every movement of his thick fingers, stilling as another one easily slipped inside.

“My love,” she panted, “e-enough, I need you.”

He quirked one of his thick brows at her words, “Should I not prepare you, my heart?”

“I am pregnant with your child, and as we can both tell, I am more than prepared.”

Cregan snorted out a laugh, withdrawing his fingers with a small whine from his wife, “How should you have me then, wife?”

Lady Stark smirked to herself, legs wrapping around his back and forcing him to fold over her, “Take me as you did on our wedding night, only you do not need to be so gentle with me.”

He slipped inside of her easily, a strained hiss sliding between his teeth while her own teeth sunk into his shoulder. Cregan did indeed take her like he had on their wedding night, but against her wishes, was almost as gentle as he had been, out of respect for his child’s personal space, as he had muttered to her. In truth, he simply wanted to take his time with her as he pulled her apart bit by bit, not wanting to rush their first time lying together in the few weeks since summer had come.

When they were finished, he remained inside of her for as long as he could, but the warmth of her and the air around them was far too much. His wife, despite the progress she’d made in the years of their marriage, was a southern woman and despised how frigid the castle could be, earning herself the warmest room in Winterfell and a required constant upkeep of her hearth. Cregan did not mind coming to his wife’s chamber when she needed him throughout the day or early evening, but there was a reason that they’d made a habit of sleeping in his personal chambers each night, where the air was cooler but he was able to keep her warm at night. He carefully pulled away, meeting her for a final kiss before he peeled himself off of the bed, slowly strutting across the room to haul the window open and feel the cool summer air against his burning flesh.

She watched him through hooded eyes, gaze raking down his muscular back, over his plump ass, and down his thick legs. She pursed her lips, pulling one of the heavy furs around her shoulders as she padded across the stone floor to wrap herself around him from behind, fingers hooking together around his belly as her bare chest pressed to his back. After a moment, one of his hands came over to cover her own as she pressed her lips to his shoulder blade.

“My mother wrote that she expects to be here in two moons,” she murmured against his warm skin, “I should begin preparations for them on the morrow.”

Cregan hummed, eyes scanning over the horizon for a moment before he comprehended her words, “Them. How many attendants does she plan to bring with her?”

He felt his wife tense behind him, “About that…”

Two moons later Cregan found himself standing tall in his own courtyard, jaw set as a procession of horses and wheelhouses began to file through the front gate of his ancestral home. He’d been a touch angry with his wife when she had finally revealed to him that it was not only her mother coming, but rather the entire royal family; the queen, her king consort, and all of their children; the dowager queen, the remaining four of her children, as well as Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena’s three children. Winterfell was about to be overrun with heads of silver hair, something Cregan had hoped would only happen as a result of his wife’s genes overcoming his own among their children.

At his side, his wife nervously chewed her bottom lip–a nasty habit he’d grown to detest after she’d drawn blood one night. He knew exactly how her family could be from their short stay during their wedding festivities, and the way that her mother and two older brothers alone were able to affect her, let alone the entire living Targaryen dynasty.

On her other side stood young Rickon, gripping her hand tightly as he struggled to compose himself. The boy was only six years old, but he already seemed to understand the importance of his role as the heir to Winterfell. He’d taken to his stepmother rather quickly, having been an infant when the fever took his own mother. He’d been in need of a maternal figure in his life, and her presence in Winterfell had done nothing but draw father and son closer together with every family supper and breakfast she had insisted on over the years. Seeing her welcome his son into her heart so openly only further pressed Cregan’s instincts to bring their own children into the world, wishing for nothing more than to give his boy dozens of siblings for him to play with.

The procession finally came to a halt just as two large, intricately carved wheelhouses entered the gates, flanked by the king consort and all of the elder princes on their horses. Lady Stark’s nerves only heightened at the sight of the silver-haired men, particularly her elder brothers who almost immediately turned their gaze her way. The queen soon climbed out of her wheelhouse, followed by her own litter of children, Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya. The second wheelhouse opened, producing Dowager Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena and her own children Jahaera, Jahaerys, and Maegor.

The queen came before them, regal as ever in her red cloak lined with black fur. She watched stoically as the three bowed before her.

“The North is yours, Your Grace,” Cregan spoke loud and true, “my family and I are honoured to host you and your family in Winterfell.”

“Many thanks, Lord Stark. I commend you on leading the North through yet another winter,” a smirk tugged at her lips as her eyes turned to his wife, who lowered into another curtsy under her stare, “I hear that Lady Stark has taken to her role quite well. I believe motherhood suits you, sister.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Stark nodded in thanks.

The next line of Targaryens filtered through the short lineup of Starks, first Daemon, who scarcely offered any of them a second glance (aside from his niece, who he stared at for a moment too long in Cregan’s opinion). Prince Jacaerys greeted Cregan like an old friend, clapping him on the shoulder heartily while he offered his aunt a polite hug, his younger brothers following, though with less familiarity.

Then came her mother, who hardly offered Lord Stark a moment of her time before she began fawning over her daughter, hugging her tightly before pulling away and pawing at her swollen belly through her layers of fur. A tear escaped the red-haired woman’s eye as she pressed a sweet kiss to Lady Stark’s cheek, then offered a greeting to sweet Rickon, who had shuffled closer to his stepmother in his nervousness. Aegon skipped over Lord Stark altogether, though he certainly was not complaining as he could smell the stench of wine radiating from the eldest prince even before noon, throwing himself onto his sister. She’d stumbled in her attempt to catch him, sending her husband a warning glance as he moved to rip him away from her. Aemond, at least, was more courteous, offering Cregan a polite greeting and kissing his sister gently on the forehead. Helaena was soon to follow, her greeting to Cregan leaving him with a puzzled look as she moved on to place her palm to her sister’s cheek.

“I am so happy to see you, sister,” Lady Stark’s eyes welled with tears. Cregan had been aware of how disappointed his wife had been when her sister had not been able to travel with her for their wedding, but she had not blamed her for choosing to stay behind while she was in her sixth moon of pregnancy, not to mention the poor state of her mind.

Daeron was the most reserved of his good-siblings, showing both Lord and Lady Stark his respect, though he had no personal relation with either. He’d spent most of his childhood in Oldtown under the care of his grandsire’s brother, the Lord of Oldtown, and his own uncle Gwayne. He’d been rather hesitant to even return to King’s Landing after being away for so long; his own mother was a mere stranger, and his siblings had gone on to marry and produce their own children without even a second thought of their youngest brother.

Winterfell’s hall was overflowing with Targaryens and those who served them. Cregan could hardly recognize any of the faces at the tables nearest to his own, his men being pushed farther back into the hall to accommodate the royal family. He, himself, had even been pushed one seat to the right to offer the queen the highest seat in the hall. He was not pleased to be doing this, far too used to southerners coming to the North with such entitlement, but he would take the treatment silently for the sake of his dear wife, who had been so excited for the arrival of her family and had been overtaken by anxiety of ensuring the visit went well.

She sat next to him, dressed in a fine silk gown (new, a design brought by her mother), a deep emerald with golden stitching across the bodice and around the cuffs. Cregan hissed through his teeth when his wife entered the hall, a happy grin on her lips as she cradled her round belly over the dress of her mother’s house rather than her own, though he was eager to greet her and accept her gleeful kiss on the cheek, and he was glad enough to see that her hair had been braided among the stems of various flowers, all of which being indigenous only to the North. Her mother could try with all of her might to try and hold tight to her daughter’s familial tether to the South, but Cregan knew his wife had transformed into a woman of the North–she was no longer simply a Targaryen princess, a dragonrider, she was also his wife, Lady of Winterfell, and mother of his children.

It never escaped Cregan’s watchful stare everytime the Dowager Queen gripped her daughter’s arm when her attention was not focused solely on her, or how she forced a smile each time he joined their conversation at all. If the woman had not been his wife’s mother, he would have gladly warded her away from his wife’s personal space. He understood well enough that his wife was bound to miss her family, especially her mother and sister, but he was afraid to see her begin to slip back into her shell, which had taken him a considerable amount of effort and care to bring her out from in the first place.

He was quickly tiring from the responsibility of hosting an entire flock of Targaryen princes, all of whom considered themselves above the northerners and their laws, customs, and expectations. They most often gathered in the training yards, each more eager to prove themselves over the northerners and each other than the last, except for Aegon, of course, who would rather spend the mornings in his chambers before he would disappear into Wintertown, most likely gone to spend the rest of the afternoon in the only brothel within twenty miles of Winterfell.

Throughout the two weeks to follow, they had barely found a moment to themselves that was not in the early hours of the morn or when the castle is alight with only the light emitted from torches and the moon itself, where Lady Stark was usually so worn out that she had barely enough energy to cuddle into her husband’s side and share a handful of words before her snoring would reach his ears. He made an effort to seek her out when he was granted a brief moment away from his duties, but there was hardly a moment when she could be found without at least one member of her kin at her side; in the nursery with her mother and sister, discussing her duties with the queen, reading with Aemond in the library, or comforting Aegon amidst another bout of alcohol-induced sickness.

The one moment he did find her alone in her personal study, not wasting a single moment before he was hoisting her into his arms and kissing her breathless. He’d been pleased to find that she had no fight in her, easily melting into his embrace and winding her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as small mewls of pleasure vibrated against his mouth. He’d almost forgotten that the door to the study had been left ajar, making his good-mother’s entrance even more silent, though he likely wouldn’t have noticed even if she had knocked, fully taken with his wife’s affection.

“Ehem.”

“Mother,” Lady Stark pushed away from her husband, face still with shock and, quite evidently, embarrassment, “I, we did not hear you come in.”

“Yes, as I could see.”

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Cregan nodded to the woman, though his tone was laced with his annoyance, “I’m afraid you’ve been subjected to a moment of weakness.”

“Nonsense,” Alicent’s lips tightened into a strained smile, a touch of tenderness on her face, “it comforts me to know that my daughter is cherished and loved, even so far away. We are not all so lucky to find love in these circumstances.”

His wife rounded the desk, meeting her mother with a tight embrace. For a moment, he felt a pang of sympathy for the red haired woman–it was true, most marriages of such caliber did not afford the couple any form of affection, and he was more than aware of the fortune that had fallen into his lap that day that Prince Jacaerys landed at his gate. The moment came to a crashing end all-too-soon as his good-mother once again dragged his wife away from him, not to be seen again until she was deep asleep in their shared bed.

He’d arranged for a hunt during the visit of the royal family, where he was forced to play the peacekeeper between the queen’s sons and their uncles, all while keeping his eyes peeled for the prize he’d been hoping for; his wife had mentioned more than once that she wanted to find the perfect blanket to gift to their first child, one that can be used again and again with each babe they brought into the world, so it seemed only fitting to him that he be the one to bring her the pelt.

It would be weeks before the warmth in his chest subsided after witnessing her grin and laughter as he presented it to her, two rabbits of a similar white and brown pattern, drawing her away from the large elk that had been brought in for their supper that night. It was a brief moment of privacy amongst the crowd, where she curled her fingers beneath the neckline of his leather doublet and dragged him down to her height, pushing a soft kiss to his wind-bitten cheek, though he was thankful for every moment of it. Her mother stepped in a moment later, grasping her daughter’s hand and willing her to join her in the nursery, where she could continue to preach her wisdom and advice for the soon-to-be mother, though Cregan hoped his wife was smart enough to take it with a grain of salt.

He’d spent the rest of the day both tending to his duties, which have seemingly doubled since the arrival of his wife’s kin, and also offering a hand in preparing the elk when he had a chance; his cooks could do wonders with elk meat, but the kitchen maids often made a fuss when such large animals were brought to whole or at least without being skinned first. He had barely even spared a moment to clean himself and change clothes before supper.

When he arrived in the dining hall, a smaller yet more formal area where he hoped he, his wife, and their many children would all dine together whenever they could. He was, however, miffed to discover the dining hall filled with princes and princesses and queens alike, only two seats left empty–his own, and his wife’s.

His immediate thought was that perhaps she was still readying herself, perhaps she had gotten carried away in the nursery with her mother, and she would be there soon enough. Then, his eyes fell upon the red-haired woman a few seats from his own.

He cleared his throat, drawing silence across his hall, “My apologies, I expect Lady Stark in only a moment.”

Alicent furrowed her brow, directing her words to the rest of the royal family rather than to Lord Stark, “I’m afraid she will not be joining us tonight.”

Cregan raised his own brow, “Why not?”

Alicent’s gaze flickered to his own, “She was unwell this evening–a pain many women know while carrying their children, all she needs is rest.”

“And why was I not made aware of this at once?” Lord Stark felt his blood beginning to boil.

She looked somewhat taken aback, “These pains are normal, they are expected for how far along she is. My daughter–”

Cregan’s heavy palm landed flat on the wooden tabletop, “My wife is my main concern. Any news concerning her or my children should and will be brought to me at once.”

Alicent pursed her lips, appearing to have a few words of choice for her daughter’s husband, though he turned his attention to the queen opposite him on the other end of the long table and looked equally as surprised and amused at the altercation as she sipped her wine.

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” he pushed himself up to his full height, “forgive my absence this evening, but if my wife is unwell I would prefer to be at her side.”

Rhaenyra smirked at him, nodding her head at him, “But of course, Lord Stark. I am honoured that you take such care of my sister. After all, family is everything, is it not?”

He ignored the way that her words seemed to have been aimed at the red-haired woman, who had slouched back into her own seat as a soft pink tinged at the apples of her cheeks, instead nodding at the queen and fleeing the room at once, his hurried and heavy footfalls carrying him through the castle and up to his wife’s personal chambers. He was disgruntled to find that they were empty, save for a servant girl who had been tending to the hearth and directed him to his own chambers.

The hinges creaked as he pushed his way inside, finding two handmaidens hovering worriedly over his wife as she hunched over on her hands and knees atop the plush bear-skin rug, back arched upwards like he’d only seen done by a cat. The two servants froze at the sight of the broad figure crossing the threshold.

“Lord Stark,” one of them rushed to him, “Lady Stark, she is alright, but–”

“Alright?” He scoffed, “She is on the floor in pain, she does not look alright.”

“Cregan,” Lady Stark glared up at him, voice strained with discomfort, “do not speak to my ladies like that.”

He let out a deep sigh, offering the servant a quiet but genuine apology, “Now please, just tell me what is wrong with her, and what I can do to help. Should I call a maester?”

The servant fought a soft smile, touched at the lord’s concern for his wife and child, “Lady Stark is experiencing little more than body aches. Normal for women carrying a child, especially their first. I’m afraid all the maester could do is offer milk of the poppy for discomfort, which could potentially do more harm to the child than good to the mother,” Cregan swallowed at the thought, “We’ve allowed the princess to soak in warm water, and the stretching helps while we prepare a hot pack over the fire.”

His gaze flickered to the small grate across the embers of the fireplace, holding three large black stones over them. He nodded, turning back to his wife, who had turned her face back into the rug while the other servant girl carefully massaged gentle circles into her lower back.

“What can I do?”

“The hot pack should help with the aches, but I’m afraid the best thing may be to keep Lady Stark as comfortable as possible, anything to keep her mind away from the pains.”

He nodded, “Leave us, I should care for my wife on my own.”

The door closed behind the two women as they hesitantly left their mistress’s side, loyal to the very end. Cregan wasted little time in removing his leather doublet and abandoning it on the plush bed, leaving him in only his breeches and thin linen shirt. He crossed the room, kneeling beside his wife and carefully laying his palm flat to her lower back, a small smirk appearing on his lips as she sighed from the relief brought by his large, warm hand.

“If you were not so obviously in pain, I would guess that you were enjoying this, my love,” he chuckled as his hand copied the same circular pattern that the servant girl had applied.

“Shut up,” she turned her head to the side so she could glance up at him, “this is your fault.”

“My fault?” He scoffed, “As I recall, your current condition is the result of your uncontrollable desires.”

She pushed herself up onto her hands, “My what? It was you who was gone to the Wall for more than a moon!”

“And it was you who kept me from my duties until midday on the day after I returned.”

She pursed her lips, “Alright, next time I will allow you to go about your duties without a word. Then we will see which one of us is so insatiable.”

“Be that the case, I’m afraid you may be with child for the next decade or more, my love.”

“Just get the hot pack,” Lady Stark rolled her eyes, lowering her head back down to the plush rug, muttering to herself with a small grin, “a decade or more…”

He obliged, wrapping the stones in a thick woolen cloth before pressing them against the small of her back, a dusting of pink coating his cheeks at the sound she released, back curving inwards as relief overtook her body.

They remained there for a long while, one of his hands holding the hot pack while the other smoothed over her silver hair, braided and still damp from her bath. The stones began to cool against his palm until they were no warmer than her own body heat, finally being tossed to the side.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, hands cradling her head and hip as he helped her roll onto her side.

“Better. Still plagued with discomfort, but better nonetheless,” She smiled softly at him, “I only wish someone may have warned me of the unpleasantness of pregnancy before I agreed to it.”

He barked out a laugh, remembering the many times she had pointed out the many ways pregnancy could ruin any romance in their marriage before it even began, hence their decision to wait before finally trying to conceive.

“If only, eh?” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

A twinkle appeared in her eye, “Well Maryssa did say that you should be doing anything to keep me comfortable…”

Lord Stark raised his brow at her words, “And what was it you only just said about me being insatiable? How have you gone from crippling pain to reaching for my breeches in such a hurry?”

She gasped, faux offense in her eyes, “I am not reaching for you breeches! What do you take me for?”

He quickly manoeuvred her onto her back, leaning down to press a slow yet meaningful kiss to her lips, “My very pregnant, very beautiful, and very impatient wife.”

She whined against his mouth, “I think impatience is quite appropriate given the circumstances. Your child has brought me the greatest joy and greatest pain of my life, and yet I constantly yearn for you, my love.”

“Constant?” He laughed.

“The maester warned me of it,” she kissed him again, “all a part of my hysteria, he called it.”

He hummed, “Which brings me to wonder why I was not made aware of this. I could have…relieved you of this suffering.”

She snorted a laugh, a sound he knew he could never grow tired of, “Cregan, if you do not take my clothes off now I would like to go to bed.”

“And what was it I said about your impatience?”

She pushed at his shoulder playfully, gasping as he grasped her wrist in his large hand and pulled her to sit up, moving to lift her and carry her to the bed when she pushed at his shoulder, shaking her head with a sly grin.

“Here,” she insisted, “it is so warm, and this fur is so soft.”

He shook his head at her, rolling his eyes. Only his wife would be demanding enough as to where he had his way with her and choose anywhere except their marital bed. Only he would be so foolishly in love as to oblige her every whim and allow her to make such demands.

Growing impatient, she began tugging at her own shift, struggling to lift her hips just enough to slide it over her hips and off completely, leaving her bare before her husband while the firelight flickered off of her soft, freshly oiled skin. His eyes fell from her own to her breasts, which had seemingly doubled in size through her pregnancy, then to her rounded belly; only a few moons would pass before she brought their first child into the world, and he could not be any more in love with her. He knew how excited she’d been over the last few weeks as her body developed with their growing child, spending much of her time with little Rickon, who was just as excited to become an older brother as she was to become a mother.

“I am not simply here for decoration,” she growled, reaching up to begin tearing the linen shirt from her husband’s body, ignoring his laughter as she struggling to pull the fabric over his wide shoulders and causing his head to get stuck for a moment, “As I said, fuck me or let me sleep.”

His booming laugh echoed through the chamber, scarcely hearing his wife, a Targaryen princess and Lady of Winterfell, use such coarse language. It was the northerner growing within her, he decided as he obliged, kissing her with every ounce of desire he’d been forced to swallow throughout the duration of her family’s stay, pressing her back to lay flat against the dark brown fur.

Cregan made quick work of kissing down her body, taking a few moments to kiss and suckle and squeeze at her swollen breasts, encouraged by her response to his touch on her sensitive skin as he continued further down. He pressed several playful kisses over her belly, whispering to their child to go to sleep so he could take care of his wife guilt-free. She giggled at this, causing a flood of heat to spread across his chest as he finally crested over the underside of her belly, coming face-to-face with the silver curls safeguarding her womanhood.

Her legs fell apart easily, and he found no resistance as he eagerly began to feast upon her most intimate place. Her fingers curled into the fur beneath her as her whines and whimpers filled the room, unable to reach for his long dark hair with her belly in the way. He was pleasantly surprised to discover how much of her arousal had pooled between her thighs, two of his thick fingers easily slipping into her heat with practiced precision while his tongue massaged her sensitive pearl.

Her body seemed more responsive than ever, thighs quivering against his shoulders as her peak crashed over her once, and then moments later, once more.

He pulled away, noting how her hips had begun to pull away from him, her womanhood more sensitive than ever. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, watching through lustful eyes as his wife grabbed hold of his other wrist, taking the fingers that had brought her to bliss twice only moments before between her lips and sucking them clean. She stared up at him through her lashes, leaning up on her elbow to reach down and paw at the tent that had formed in his breeches, tugging at the laces until they fell open and allowed her to reach inside.

He let out a low growl at the sensation of her hand taking hold of his member, head falling back in relief. Cregan was quick to pull her hand away, shedding his trousers and boots as efficiently as possible so he could lay her flat on her back once more and finally press himself inside of her.

They both let out long, breathy sounds at the stretch; no matter how many times they would lay together, she never quit got used to the intrusion of his thick cock inside of her, He remained still for a moment, regaining his wits as he willed himself not to finish far too early, though he could not guarantee that he would be able to fight his peak for very long after weeks without his wife’s intimate touch.

“Cregan, please,” she whimpered, nails scratching down his arm as she planted his fist next to her head, bracing himself as he began to work slow, deep thrusts into her warmth, his own grunts and gasps of pleasure falling from his lips while her lips fell open to allow wails of her enjoyment fall from them with every punch of his tip against her most sensitive place deep within her.

“My love,” he panted, “For-forgive me…I do not think–”

“Give yourself to me, my love,” she whined, “I need to feel you.”

He nodded, eyes tightening shut as he quickened his pace, chasing his release with grunts and growls and groans until his hips began to stutter, his release pumping deep inside of her until he was shaking. His release triggered her own, pleasure crashing over her for the third time that evening, soaking his length in both of their releases as she clung to his broad frame for dear life.

She whined when he pulled out of her, sensitive from her three climaxes. He took a moment to stare down at her, stormy gaze trailing from her cunt, where their mix juices had begun seeping from her warmth, to her belly, where their child grew. His eyes then moved to her breasts, which heaved with every deep breath the escaped her parted lips, and finally to her face, which shone with a layer of perspiration as she pulled him down to lay next to her on the fur, turning to press her back against his chest and settling into his embrace as he trailed sweet kisses over her cheek, jaw, and neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered, sleep threatening to overtake her at any moment.

“Thank you,” Cregan responded. “I love you.”

“I love you too, husband.”

Silence overtook the room for a moment, only the sound of their slowing breaths and the crackling fire in the hearth could be heard before he finally shared his final thoughts of the night.

“I cannot bear to not have you all to myself for even a moment ever again,” he mumbled into her flesh, “we are never hosting your family again.”

A small chuckle vibrated through her chest.

“I could not agree more.”

#x reader #reader insert #imagines #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan smut #smut #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine

2K notes · View notes

requiemforthepoets · 3 months ago

Text

baby peanut! 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x wife!reader

SUMMARY: keeping your pregnancy from lando was proven to be very hard when all you want is tell him the amazing news that you both are expecting again. but since his birthday was coming up, you waited for his special day to tell him.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: reader is french-russian, multicultural household, established relationships, pregnancy, typos, and gramatical errors

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY LANDO DAY!!!!! was debating on posting a new fic for him, but decided to just make it a part of the norris family series, though this can be read as a stand alone. hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The soft morning light was just beginning to filter through the white curtains when you stirred awake, glancing over to see Lando fast asleep beside you. His peaceful face looked even more boyish, framed by the tousled strands of hair he hadn’t bothered to tame before collapsing into bed after last night’s stream. It had been hours before he joined you in bed, he and Max laughing and gaming into the early morning, and you knew he deserved this rest.

Just as you began to carefully sit up, you heard a soft rustling sound from the bedroom doorway. Peeking over, you spotted a small figure, a very familiar figure—a little silhouette with tousled hair, just like Lando’s, and sparkling eyes, trying best to tiptoe into the room. It was Thylane, with her tiny hands clutching her favorite blankie. You could see that she was struggling to hold back a giggle as she glanced over at her sleeping father.

Smiling, you brought a finger to your lips, silently shushing her. Thylane’s eyes widened, and she stopped mid-step, freezing in the doorway. You motioned gently for her to come closer to you, and she padded over quietly, looking up at you expectantly.

“Is Papa awake yet?” She whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

The eagerness in her tone made your heart swell, and you could not help but lean down, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

“No, mon amour,” you whispered back, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Papa had a very late night with Uncle Max. He needs his sleep, let’s let him rest a little longer, hm?”

Thylane nodded, her expression brightening at the thought of what you had in mind. “But it’s Papa’s birthday! I want to say happy birthday to him!”

“I know, my love. But how about we go to the kitchen, just you and me, and make a special birthday breakfast for Papa? Then we can surprise him together when he wakes up, and…” you paused, heart fluttering as you thought about the special surprise you had planned, one that you had kept to yourself until today. “And there’s something very exciting we’ll be giving him. Something you’re going to help me with, too.”

Her eyes lit up, and she bounced on her toes, already whispering with excitement. “What is it, Mama?”

“You’ll see, mon petit trésor,” you murmured with a soft smile. “It’s a surprise just as much for you as it is for your Papa. Now, come on.”

You grabbed your silk robe by the vanity chair and put it on. Taking Thylane’s little hand in yours, you casted a quick glance back at Lando. You leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, lingering just a moment. The warmth of his skin was comforting, and for a heartbeat, you just admired the peaceful look on his face, hoping he would carry that warmth with him when he awoke to find you both by his side. Then you carefully lifted Thylane into your arms to keep her quiet and avoid the soft creaks of the floorboards as you slipped out of the room together.

You and Thylane moved quietly into the kitchen, both of you filled with anticipation. The kitchen was softly lit by the morning sun, casting a warm glow over the countertops as you gathered everything you needed for Lando’s birthday breakfast, with Thylane already clutching the whisk with her small hands, her tongue poking out in concentration as she tried her best to mix the batter for the pancakes.

“Like this, Mama?” She asked, glancing up at you, her face bright with determination.

“Oui, parfait, mon ange,” you replied, ruffling her hair lightly. “Now, tu peux ajouter les blueberries. Add the blueberries, like this.” You handed her a small bowl of plump blueberries, showing her how to fold them gently into the batter.

She followed your instructions very carefully, not wanting to ruin Lando’s surprise, her little fingers pushing each blueberry into the mix with care, her eyes darting to you every so often to check if she was doing it right.

“Is Papa going to love it?” She whispered.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Of course Papa’s going to love it because you made it for him,” you assured her, watching her face break into a wide grin. “Now, pass me the flour, please—la farine. Careful, don’t spill.”

With both hands, Thylane picked up the small bag of flour and brought it over, the look of focus never leaving her face. She had switched to a more serious demeanor, taking her role as your little sous-chef very seriously.

“Here, Mama!” She said proudly, handing it to you as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

“Merci, mon trésor,” you replied, taking the flour and measuring out the right amount for the batter. “Okay, now you can stir again, doucement, like this.” You demonstrated, letting her hands follow yours as you guided her through the gentle motions.

When the pancakes were stacked high on a plate, topped with fresh berries and a drizzle of maple syrup, you and Thylane both stood back, admiring your creation.

“Look at what we made together,” you said softly, squeezing Thylane’s shoulder. “Papa will be very happy.”

Thylane clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing on her toes. “Can we give it to him now?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head, a smile forming on your lips. “There’s one more surprise we need to get ready.”

Walking over to the drawer, you retrieved the small acrylic box, some soft cloth, and your carefully wrapped pregnancy test. Thylane’s brows furrowed as she watched you, her head tilting with curiosity.

“What’s that, Mama?” She asked, peering closely at the box as you placed the soft cloth inside.

“This, my love, is a very special surprise for Papa,” you knelt down so that you were eye-level with her, placing the test in the box atop the folded cloth. “Do you remember how you told me you wanted to have a little brother or sister?”

Thylane’s eyes sparkled, and she nodded eagerly. “Yes! Yes! Does this mean…”

“Yes, Tilly. This means you’re going to be a big sister.” You smiled warmly at her.

Her face lit up, her mouth forming a perfect little “O” of excitement. “Really, Mama? I get a baby brother or sister?”

“Yes, mon trésor,” you nodded, laughing softly at her reaction. “We don’t know yet if it’s a brother or sister, but the baby is here, right inside Mama’s tummy, just a little peanut for now.”

Thylane’s eyes went wide with wonder, and she pressed her small hands to your stomach as if she was trying to feel the baby herself.

“A baby peanut!” She giggled, delight shining in her face. “Can we call the baby that for now?”

“Of course,” you chuckled, brushing her hair back. “Until we know more, we can call your little sibling, baby peanut.” She grinned, clearly enamored with the idea, and watched carefully as you tied the ribbon around the box with care.

“Can I help with the ribbon?” She asked, her hand already reaching out eagerly.

“Of course, here.” You said, guiding her hand as she carefully looped the ribbon around, tightening it with a gentle tug and finishing it off in a neat bow.

“Where should we put it, Mama?” She asked, glancing around the room.

You took a quick look at the cozy space, then pointed to a spot on the kitchen counter, just out of Lando’s immediate line of sight.

“Right here,” you decided, setting the box down gently. “That way, Papa won’t see it right away.”

Thylane nodded, grinning widely. “I can’t wait to see Papa’s reaction!”

With breakfast prepared and the surprise box tucked safely out of sight, you and Thylane made your way back to the bedroom, eager to wake up the birthday boy. By now, the sun had fully risen, casting a warm glow across the room as you nudged the door open to your and Lando’s bedroom. You expected to see Lando still sleeping peacefully, but instead, he was already awake, propped up on pillows with his phone in his hand, scrolling with a sleepy smile on his face.

Before you could say anything, Thylane let out a squeal of excitement and sprinted towards the bed, practically launching herself onto him. Lando barely had time to react before she pounced, wrapping her arms around his neck and showering Lando’s face with small kisses.

“Happy birthday, Papa! Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” She chanted, each word punctuated with a giggling kiss to Lando’s cheeks, forehead, and nose. Lando can’t help but laugh, his eyes crinkling with joy as he pulled her close, enveloping her in a warm hug.

“Thank you, Tilly!” He replied, chuckling as he looked up at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a special wake-up call on my birthday before.”

She nodded enthusiastically, her face flushed with pride. “I made you a biiiiig birthday card last night! It’s pink, and has lots of hearts and sparkles on it, and I even drew a race car!”

“Woah, a race car? Just for me? Now that is one special card,” he said, brushing a few stray curls behind her ear as he smiled up at her. “I can’t wait to see it. I bet it’s the best card in the whole world.”

Giggling, Thylane seated herself on top of his stomach, her little hands resting on his chest as she looked down at Lando with pure adoration. You leaned against the doorway, laughing at the sweet sight in front of you before walking over to the bed and settling down beside Lando.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, but laced with affection. “I’m so happy that I get to spend my birthday with my favorite girls.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his. “Good morning, birthday boy,” you whispered, smiling against his lips before pulling back just slightly. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Lando grinned, puckering his lips again, silently asking for another kiss. Laughing, you leaned down, giving him another soft kiss, feeling his hand come up to gently cup your cheek. In that moment, it was just the three of you, wrapped in warmth and love, as if nothing else in the world existed. As you pulled back, Thylane let out a little giggle, pointing at the two of you with a mischievous grin.

“Ew, Mama and Papa!” She teased, though her face betrayed nothing but happiness.

Lando laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Hey, I deserve a birthday kiss, don’t I?”

“Papa! Mama and I made you a special breakfast!” She announced, clapping her hands. “We worked really, really hard. I even put the blueberries in all by myself!”

“No way! You mean to tell me you were my chef this morning, too?” Lando ticked her side, making her dissolve into giggles.

Thylane laughed, wiggling under his tickling fingers. “Yes, I’m your chef today! Mama showed me how to make everything.”

“Well, now I definitely have to see what my two favorite girls cooked up,” he said, sitting up slowly.

Lando reached over, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you close, then lifted Thylane into his other arm. She squealed with delight, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling her head against Lando’s shoulder. As the three of you made your way to the kitchen, Lando kept his arm secure around your waist, pulling you close as Thylane chattered excitedly about breakfast.

“Mama taught me how to fold in the blueberries so they wouldn’t smush!” She said proudly. “And we made a big stack of pancakes with syrup and blueberries and…oh! And I even helped tie a bow for your present!”

Lando gave you a curious look over Thylane’s shoulder. “A present, huh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin. “I’m starting to think you two were up to a lot more than just breakfast this morning.”

“Hm, maybe we were,” you replied, smiling playfully as you reached up to brush a strand of his hair back. “But you’ll have to be patient to find out.”

He chuckled, squeezing your waist. “Well, I don’t know how much patience I have today. I mean, it is my birthday.”

Laughing, you reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Good things come to those who wait, birthday boy.”

The three of you entered the kitchen, where the table was set with the special breakfast you and Thylane had made. Lando’s eyes sparkled as he took it all in, and Thylane beamed with pride, practically bouncing in his arms.

“Happy birthday, Papa!” She exclaimed one last time, her voice full of love and excitement, her little arms squeezing him tightly.

With Lando’s arm around you, and Thylane hugging him with all her might, it was clear to you that this birthday morning could not have started off any sweeter.

Breakfast was a cozy, peaceful affair, the three of you wrapped in the simplicity of the morning. You and Lando chatted about plans for his birthday dinner later, throwing around ideas and laughing at each other’s jokes, while Thylane happily watched her favorite show on her iPad, humming along with the familiar theme song of Little Einsteins. It was a gentle scene, just the three of you? Sharing a quiet, joyful space as the morning sun spilled across the table.

Lando seemed perfectly content, caught up in the warmth of the moment. He had almost forgotten about the small gift waiting for him, tucked away in the kitchen—until you stood up, brushing a gentle hand across his shoulder.

“Wait here for a sec,” you said softly, a hint of excitement in your voice. “Tilly, come help me with something for Papa.”

Thylane’s face lit up as she hopped down from her chair, glancing at you with a secretive smile. She knew exactly what was coming next. Taking her hand, you led her back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to see Lando watching you both with a look of fond curiosity. He seemed completely oblivious to what was coming.

You reached into the cozy corner of the counter, pulling out the small, acrylic box you had hidden away with so much care. Inside, carefully wrapped in a soft cloth, was the positive pregnancy test. You knelt down, handing the box to Thylane, who held it carefully with wide, shining eyes.

“Okay, mon ange,” you whispered, giving her a gentle smile. “Give this to Papa, and make sure he opens it.”

She nodded, taking the box in her hands as if it were a treasure. Together, you walked back to the dining area, where Lando was watching you both with growing curiosity.

“What’s this?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful grin.

Thylane held out the box, her excitement barely contained. Lando took the acrylic box, glancing from her to you, a mixture of awe and confusion on his face.

You smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, leaning close. “Go on,” you said, voice soft with anticipation. “Open it.”

“Open it, Papa! Open it!” She echoed, bouncing slightly on her toes, her face brimming with excitement.

Lando carefully untied the delicate ribbon that Thylane had helped you with that morning, his fingers moving slowly as if savoring the moment. The box felt light in his hands, and his expression shifted from curiosity to wonder as he lifted the lid, pulling away the cloth inside. The instant he saw the test, his eyes widened, and Lando looked up at you with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Is this…” he stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he was afraid he might shatter the moment. “Is this real? Is this for real?”

You nodded, unable to contain your own smile as you squeezed his shoulder. “Yes, love. It is real.” You watched his face light up as the reality of it washed over him.

“Happy birthday, my love.” You added softly, feeling your own heart swell with happiness.

Lando did not hesitate. He stood up, pulling you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around you as he lifted you off of your feet, twirling you in a gentle circle. His laugh was warm and filled with immense happiness so pure that it brought tears to your eyes.

“After all this time,” he murmured, voice thick with emotions as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “We’re really going to have another baby?” You nodded, laughing through your tears.

“I found out a few weeks ago, when you were in Mexico. I wanted to wait until today to tell you.” You placed a hand on his cheeks, gazing up at him with all the love you had been holding back for weeks. “It took everything in me not to tell you the moment I found out.”

He kissed you softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered. “Thank you for waiting, love. This…this is literally the best birthday gift I’ve ever had.”

“Papa, did you see? It’s real!” She said, beaming and clapping her hand, while bouncing in happiness. “I’m going to have a baby brother or sister! I told Mama I want to call them baby peanut!”

“Baby peanut, huh?” Lando chuckled, bending down to lift Thylane into his arms, bringing her close to the two of you. Kissing her forehead, and looking at you with a grin. “I think that’s a perfect name, for now.”

“Papa, can we tell everyone? All our friends?” Thylane’s face lit up at the thought, and she looked back and forth between you and Lando.

“Soon, Tilly. But for now, let’s keep it our little secret, okay? Just between us.” He leaned down, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That way, we can keep baby peanut all to ourselves a little longer.”

“Our little secret!” She nodded seriously, her eyes wide as she held her finger to her lips. “I’m really good at secrets, Papa. I won’t tell anyone!”

You all just stood there, basking in the warmth and happiness of the quiet moment, Lando had never felt a new kind of peace settle over him. This was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of. A family, life filled with love and laughter, and now, another little one on the way.

Lando let Thylane down, letting her run towards the living room to play with her toys. He reached out, threading his fingers through yours and giving your hand a gentle squeeze, and kissing it softly.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking a little bit. “For this, for everything. You’ve given me the greatest gift of all.”

You squeezed his hand back, your own eyes shining with emotion. “I love you,” you murmured. “Happiest birthday, my love.”

As Lando held you closely, he realized that this was a happiness beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

2K notes · View notes

bunnis-monsters · 1 month ago

Text

NSFW

Fern x Reader PT3(Final)

part 1

part 2

a/n: this is the final part of Fern’s main story, but not the end! You can still make Fern requests and I may rewrite this mini series in the future when I have time.

Fern had been depressed lately. He was a fairy, a dainty little thing, and you were now pregnant. He watched as you waddled around, struggling to do things.

If he were just bigger, he could ensure you never had to lift a finger.

All he could do was use magic to help when he could. Vines sprouted to grab things out of your reach or play with your pussy when you were feeling needy.

Fern wanted you so badly, to properly fuck into you and stretch out your fat cunt like he had before.

At night his wings fluttered softly as he rubbed your pregnant belly, kissing it. When his child was born, would he even be big enough to hold them? It made his heart ache to even think of such a thing. How could he protect his family when he was the size of a small doll?

That’s why he made a tough decision. Fern backed a bag, kissed your forehead and promised he would be back.

There were tales of a witch that lived in the center of the forest. She’d grant a single wish for anyone that came to her… but for a price.

He knocked once on the dirty window, noticing it was cracked and the wooden frame was chipped. Did anyone even live there?

The door creaked open, an old crone beckoning him in. “Hurry, I don’t have all day. Go on and tell me what you want.”

Fern sat on an upside down teacup, watching as the witch bustled about the dusty old cabin looking through books and half empty potion bottles.

“Uh… I wanted to know if you can make me… the size of a human.”

The witch paused, glancing at him. “I can, for a price. What are you willing to give me in exchange?”

It had been an entire day since you last saw Fern. He wasn’t the type to be out late, always returning before dark, so it was alarming that he had been gone for more than a few hours.

It was a bit hard walking now. You were six months along, but looked like you were closer to nine. Fern liked to joke that you seemed about ready to burst while laying his tiny head on your belly.

You could tell that his size was bothering him even more lately. As your pregnancy progressed, you needed more help, the kind someone as small as him couldn’t provide.

Despite what others may think, Fern was a proud fairy and hated that he wasn’t able to help his pregnant lover.

Fern wanted to provide and care for you, but that wasn’t really possible when he couldn’t even do most things for himself.

When the second day without any sightings of him filled around, you started to panic. It really wasn’t like him to be gone so long, especially when you were carrying his child.

‘Where could he be?’

Nearly a week passed without him. It was both depressing and terrifying, leaving you nearly bedridden at times. Everything seemed harder with Fern gone.

Even if he couldn’t do much of the heavy lifting, he used his magic to keep you from getting morning sickness, always comforted you when you were hormonal, and made sure all of your vegetables stayed fresh.

Without him, the world felt cold and uninviting. He made all the gray clouds disappear, but now that he was gone the sun had left with him.

You sat in your rocking chair as tears fell down your cheeks. After crying so much, your eyes were puffy and sore.

Even knitting for your unborn child was a chore these days, and you had only finished a single foot when you heard a knock at your door.

For a moment you thought Fern would be behind it… but that was stupid. He was the size of your hand, there’s no way he could knock that loud.

You didn’t rush to greet your guest. Instead you slowly put down the onesie you had been knitting and stood.

Trudging towards the door, you slowly unlocked it and pulled towards yourself…

“Hello, my love.”

You were breathless, eyes wide and mouth agape as you looked up to see a hair of brown curls and eyes as green as fresh oak leaves.

A hand reached out, cupping your cheek and swiping at your tears as you began to cry.

“Fern…”

You sobbed into his chest, warms wrapped tightly around him. He hugged you back, his eyes softening when your baby bump pressed into his abdomen.

“I’m so sorry, love. There was something I had to take care of, something so important I had to leave you for a while.”

As your lip wobbled, Fern began to explain what had happened.

After the witch asked him what he’d give in return, Fern was quick to answer.

“My immortality.”

You covered your mouth, eyes going wide as you swallowed harshly. “You… gave that up to be the same size as me?”

He nodded, smiling fondly as he tilted your chin up. “And I’d do it a thousand times over, love.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to yours a gentle, yet needy kiss. Although it felt amazing to kiss him after such a stressful week without him, you pulled back after a moment.

“But… why did you stay away for so long?”

Fern went pale, scratching the back of his head with a nervous laugh. “Let’s just say the process to become tall was… long and painful. That old witch enjoyed it too, I’m sure.”

After a moment of simply enjoying each other’s presence, you both walked inside.

After that, Fern waited on you hand and foot. He adored you, that was for sure. Every meal, activity, and even bathroom visit was managed by him.

Fern smiled down at you as he helped you into a bath, his eyes lingering in your heavy and swollen breasts.

When you hissed and winced in pain as your hands brushed against your sensitive nipples, Fern cooed out sympathetically.

“Here, just relax.”

His wings fluttered as his hands groped your fat tits, massaging and squishing them lightly. You let out such a delicious noise that he couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss your neck.

Fern’s cock twitched to life when milk spurted from your perky buds. He always got so hard when he was reminded you were heavily pregnant with his young.

“That’s it, feels good doesn’t it?”

His hand slipped between your legs, a vine replacing the now missing one at your tit while his other continued massaging you.

“Mmph… Fern…”

You had been so needy lately, begging for him to properly fuck you since he had returned. But he was hesitant. Fern didn’t want to potentially harm you or his unborn child…

But with some reassurance from you, the fairy joined you in the tub. He settled you onto his lap, continuing his ministrations.

His cock nudged at your warm cunt, desperate to be enveloped by your velvety walls.

And you wanted him just as much.

Fern groaned against your neck, keeping a hand on your baby bump for leverage as he bounced you up and down on his cock. It felt so good to stretch you out again and have you clench around him.

The vines rubbed at your clit, making you tighten up even more. You came again and again, your body way more sensitive due to your pregnancy.

He loved getting to fill you up with his seed. Watching the hot, white cum leak out of your cunt as he rinsed you off made him want to do it all over again.

But Fern wanted to go easy on you until after your pregnancy.

Months passed by, and Fern held onto your hand as you gave birth. Labor hadn’t been easy, but he was by your side the entire time.

“It’s a girl…”

You held onto your baby, eyes half lidded from exhaustion. Fern was an absolute mess, his eyes puffy and red as he sniffled.

“She’s beautiful…”

Fern handled almost everything as you recovered, and as your baby girl grew, her wings started to slowly develop.

“She has wings… is she..?”

“Immortal? Maybe, but I’m not sure… I impregnated you before the witch took my immortality, but she is half human…”

You kissed her little head, letting her nurse as your now husband knelt in front of you.

“I don’t want that for her, Fern. She would outlive all of us. Wouldn’t that be lonely?”

Fern paused to think, slowly reaching out to place a hand over your belly.

“… it wouldn’t be if we… gave her a sibling.”

And so the two of you had several children through the years, slowly repopulating the fairy race. You’d grow old together, and even if your children lived forever, at least they would have each other.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

1K notes · View notes

daydreamkissesxo · 5 months ago

Text

Father Charlie x reader | Sinner

Brief mentions of smut and pregnancy, completely self indulgent. 18+

You were a devoted Catholic, a regular attendee of the church with your equally devoted family.

Your family were blessed to have such an academically gifted and religiously dedicated daughter, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

You’d often been approached by the overbearing mothers of similar aged son’s at Sunday mass, all seeking your hand in marriage for their insufferable offspring.

Your family were modestly proud of the attention you’d gained, equally keen to find you a suitor, though your lack of interest was due to something far more perverted.

You’d became entranced by Father Charlie’s charm, he was the sole motive for your ultimate devotion to the church.

You craved his attention, his praise for your dedication leaving you utterly vulnerable each time you’d receive it.

You hadn’t been as subtle as you’d hoped, Father Charlie knew of your fondness for him which is why he chose to ignore the chatter amongst churchgoers of your possible marriage.

He’d often found it amusing to witness mothers attempt to pitch their son’s qualities while he had the knowledge of the sins they’d admitted to him through the confessional box.

He grew uncomfortable seeing how quickly you were hounded by persistent mothers seconds after mass had ended, often wanting to intervene but finding no believable excuse to.

Father Charlie was surprised to see that you’d booked an appointment through the parish office to meet with him during the week.

Half expecting you to be sat with your newly appointed suitor, yet he was pleased to see you sat alone.

“Miss Y/L/N?” He calls out softly as he enters his office, walking around his desk to sit opposite you.

You were dressed so modestly, your Bible placed on the desk in front of you, it was a heavenly sight.

Had he been able to marry you before he was ordained, you would have made the perfect preachers wife.

“Father, I’m sorry not to have waited until after Mass but I must speak with you.” You confess with urgency, your hands nervously trembling in your lap.

Father Charlie was rightfully concerned to see you so visibly upset, you’d always been so happy.

“Is there something wrong Y/N?” He asks, shifting closer to the edge of his seat before extending his hand out to take hold of yours.

Your linked hands rest on the bible placed in front of you, his thumb softly caressing the back of yours.

His touch was like electricity, your heart began to race as you grew increasingly nervous.

“Father, I..I have sinned.” You confess timidly, tears flooding your waterline and blurring your vision.

Father Charlie tried to refrain from physically reacting despite his confusion and growing curiosity, wanting to treat you no different to any other sinner willing to confess.

“What is it that you’ve done Y/N?” He attempted to sound sympathetic but he was anxious, worried that the constant pressing of a marriage had sent you flying off the rails.

“I..I’m worried you may look at me differently, father.” You sniffle, bringing your free hand up to your cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

He shook his head, dismissing your claim without even hearing your confession.

“I could never.”

You hesitantly looked up at him, his reassuring smile making your heart flutter.

“I..I’ve not been in my right mind lately, father. During my reproductive cycle, I have noticed a strong sexual desire that is incurable.” You lowered your head in shame for what you were about to confess, your hand trembling beneath his.

“I have..pleasured myself.”

He watched as you nervously averted your gaze, giving your hand a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“It’s not the end of the world Y/N. You’ll repent, and we’ll say no more about this.”

He stood up from his seat, walking around the desk to then sit on the edge of it beside you.

You became nervous once more, having him in such close proximity and practically towering over you.

“Your body has a natural desire to reproduce, it’s not entirely your fault you gave in to such an overwhelming urge.”

The thought of your highly fertile state left him completely aroused, knowing he could ruin your chances of marriage and claim you secretly simply by impregnating you.

He reached out to cup your cheek, forcibly turning your head to look up at him.

“Tell me, how did it feel?” He whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You froze in response, worried that your honest answer may worsen your case.

“It..it felt really good, father.” You whispered timidly, your gaze nervously meeting his.

His hold on your cheek loosened, he extended his thumb before placing it against your bottom lip and very slowly dragging it down.

“Tell me what you did. Tell me what you were thinking.”

You knew this was not part of a standard confession yet you obliged regardless, your thighs tensing as heat pools in your underwear.

“I waited until everyone was asleep, and then I slipped my hand beneath my nightgown and took off my underwear.”

His breath was audibly heavier, his lips parting as he pictures the scene you’re describing.

“I inserted my fingers into myself, and I thought of you, father.” You whispered shamelessly, your own breath growing heavier.

“I do not want to get married, I only want you. I cannot live with the thought of another man touching me the way I wish you could.”

Your confession left him speechless and undeniably horny, his cassock thankfully hiding his now prominent bulge.

“You must repent.” He whispers, slipping his thumb past your lips and pressing it against your tongue to prevent you from any further confessions.

“You will not speak a word of this to anyone. I expect you to stay after mass so I can deal with you properly.”

He stands from his seated position on the desk, his hand falling from your cheek to your knee as his fingers scramble to slip beneath the fabric of your dress.

The sensation of your soft silk like skin beneath his fingertips caused the hairs to stand on the back of his neck.

He slowly glides his hand up your thigh, forcing his hand between your tightly clenched thighs and curling his middle and index finger to glide along the newly wet fabric of your underwear.

He bit at his lip harshly in restraint, fighting the urge to ravish you right there.

“You will not sit in your drenched underwear during mass, you will take these off and leave them in my drawer. Then you will join me in waiting for others to arrive.”

He reluctantly pulled his hand away as he stood up, stepping away from you to allow you to follow his instructions.

You submissively obeyed, reaching beneath the fabric of your dress for your underwear before hooking your thumbs into the lace waistband to pull them down your thighs and calf’s.

He watched as they drop to your ankles, the visible wet stain of your arousal made him shudder.

He forced himself to look away, leaving you to pick them up and place them where he’d requested.

He wasn’t sure how he would focus during mass knowing that you were to sit bare amongst your family, but the thought was delightful.

#father charlie #grotesquerie #x y/n #smut #nicholas alexander chavez

2K notes · View notes

luludeluluramblings · 3 months ago

Text

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Three

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sorry for the delay. My motivation fled for a bit and exhaustion hit me hard right before thanksgiving. I had to buckle down and just finish this.

A/N: I really wanna answer all my ask, there’s some things in there that y’all have sent me that I want to do for an AU of this. There’s just so many ideas I wanna try.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warnings: Yandere themes, possible non-con (I only say possible, because Reader was drunk when consenting), fem!reader, possible violence towards Jason, my own made up headcanons.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

When you told Stephanie you were going to find out the gender of your little bean, you weren’t exactly surprised she wanted to have a gender reveal party. Though you did talk her out of the party aspect. You loved your friends, but you hadn’t told them about your pregnancy. Mostly because you knew they’d either accidentally spill the beans about said bean to someone they shouldn’t or they’d freak out and pester you about the unknown father.

It’s a shame you can only faintly remember dark hair, loving touches, and the heat from that night. You’d like to at least thank the man for giving you such gift. Even if said gift was making you throw up nearly every morning, constantly tired, and craving the oddest things with heartburn to follow.

Overall, things were going.

That was it. Things where just going. You were still looking for an apartment, but you were getting sidetracked a bit by nurseries. You knew you would love your child regardless of what they are or who they are. But, the little swan lake nursery was precious and the air plane nursery was darling. Both made you cry and change your mind on apartments at least six times. Hormones did not help with house hunting.

But, the day came. You went to your ultrasound and had them put the gender in an envelop to give to Stephanie for her to plan your day. You had to fight yourself from peaking at the paper, but, still, you waited the three extra days until you would find out the big reveal.

Unfortunately, Jason fucking ruined it.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason had been poking around the fridge. It was common for him to dig around the manor for food when he was there. Bruce was rich and groceries were expensive. (If he was looking for some of the princess’s cooking? That was his business.) But, he spotted something that stood out from the usual expensive organic fruits and vegetables and occasional meat.

“Hey, Alfred. Why is there a small cake in the fridge?" He could tell from the packaging it was from some fancy bakery. Probably one on the shiny posh side of Gotham. Which meant it would either taste like overpriced shit or absolutely delectable.

"That would be the young Miss's. I believe Miss Brown purchased it as a surprise." Alfred had replied from where he was currently taking inventory of the pantry. Maintaining a well supplied stock of the after mission snacks to proper management after all. Still, he did eye Jason from where he stood with his note pad. Knowing that Jason had a slight habit of causing trouble.

"Those two have been really close lately." Jason muttered suspiciously, mentally debating on if the cake was worth it or not with Alfred watching him.

"Dick is right. You really are starting to sound like Bruce." Duke and Cassandra had been sitting at the counter. Duke, having just gotten off patrol, had been in the kitchen to refill his water. While Cass had been munching on some snacks that she had hidden from the rest of them.

"Can it, light bulb." Came Jason's snarky voice as he silently popped the lid on the much to fancy cake open and pulled it out of the fridge. Alfred to far across the kitchen to stop him. "You know… This is a pretty big cake…"

"Jason, no." Even Duke knew it was a bad idea. If you had just gotten bold enough to through tubberware at Jason, God only knew what you might do if he ate a gift you'd been given. Plus, Steph would be on everyone’s ass for it. She was stingy with her money and everyone could tell she splurged for that cake.

"I would advise against that, Master Jason. Miss Brown already informed the young Miss of the cake and I believe that they wanted to have the first slices when they got back from their outing." Alfred knew you would happily share the cake, but, while he wanted to defend your sugary gift, he knew that that cake had a secret and for once Alfred couldn't restrain himself from wanting to be the first to discover it.

That drew both Cassandra and Duke's attentions away from the crime that was about to be committed. Both curious. The two of you really had gotten close. Cass only slightly tilted her head in curiosity while Duke had been the one to speak.

"Oh, they went out?"

"For pedicures, I was told. They are due to arrive back here shortly. "

"Well, if you wait, they might- Jason! Seriously?!" Duke had looked back to watch Jason slice into the cake with a spare butter-knife. Thankfully with enough finesse to not completely ruin your cake.

"What? The princess can share her damn cake-" He defends himself, about to grab a fork when he notices Cass looking directly at Alfred. "Why are you looking at Alfred like that?"

When she says nothing, Duke and Jason look at the tearful expression of Alfred's face. "Alfie, what's wrong?"

It takes a moment for them to realize that those aren't tears of anger or sadness as Alfred tries to compose himself. It takes Duke a few seconds longer to look at the slice of cake to connect the dots with a swiftness that would put Tim's title as second greatest detective to shame.

However, the only words that stumble out of his mouth in his shock are, "Jason, that cake is blue."

"Yeah, I know. Which is weird, but it taste great. Steph picked something really fancy for princess’s taste." Jason says finally taking a bite. It was good, Steph picked a good bakery. Not as good as Princess's homemade goods, but good enough.

"NO! Jason, why would a cake be blue?" The realization of what exactly Jason just ruined filled Duke with panic. This was going to be so much worse than the tubberware if he was right. So much worse.

Even Cass was a bit confused about the massive deal with the cake. She was more interested in the joy she was reading off of Alfred since that cake had been cut. She'd never seen the man so giddy, despite the only sign of any change in him was the misty look in his eyes.

"I don't know- Oh, great. The princess has returned." The sound of excited footsteps were heard heading towards the kitchen while Duke looked at Jason with anxiousness. Even Alfred seemed to brace himself.

As soon as you and Stephanie walked in the smiles dropped from your faces.

"Jason…. Tell me you didn't…" Stephanie murmured as she glared as Jason. Inwardly, she was excited. She had guessed correctly and won her own personal bet with herself. But, she comfortingly put a hand on your arm as you stared at the blue cake you didn’t get to cut.

Just from your expression, Duke can tell he might have been right and starts looking at Jason with an expression that screams, ‘Plead for mercy, you idiot.’

Alfred, thankfully, had enough sense to come out of his joy the moment he watches you walk up to the counter and look down at the cake with a despondent expression. His words comforting as he tries to ease the budding tension. “I'm so sorry, young miss. But, on the bright side-"

"Oh, come on, princess. You and Steph weren’t going to be able eat it all. You can afford to share. Besides, you’ve been looking a little pudgy lately anyway. Really need to stop acting like you’re eating for two."

Everyone looks directly at Jason in horror at what he just said. Seeing the spark of rage in your eyes makes Alfred take a step back in caution and Cassandra warns an aghast Duke of what she sees about to go down.

“Duke, duck.”

“Where?” He says in terrified confusion before suddenly your cake is slammed directly into Jason’s face with your hands coated in frosting.

"OH SHIT!”

"MISS!"

"Are you fucking crazy?" Jason stumbles back from the velocity of the cake to his face while he tries to wipe the buttercream from his eyes as you start berating him. Throwing everything in reaching distance at him. The bowl of fruit on the counter, the snacks Cass had been eating, even a pot from the stove.

"You ruined it! You ruined it! Alfred, where's the cast iron? I'm about to knock the dumbass outta him.” You start looking for something heavy, moving to dig through the cabinets with sugary fingers that are shaking with anger.

“About time someone did…” Stephanie mutters while she hides behind the counter to hide from the onslaught.

Before you can complete your search, Jason reveals just how well he preforms under pressure. Realizing a little too late what he might have just right when your hands find the cast iron skillet and your taking a swing at him.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry!" He barely dodged the hit with the sudden click of the information settling into his brain.

"You about to be sorry! This is the last straw, asshole. You fuckin' ruined it." You go to take another swing at him, nearly slipping in some frosting.

Jason’s eyes go wide before he risk a skillet to the face to catch you.

"You're right! I- Put that down, you're going to hurt yourself." He struggles to pull the pan from your sticky grip, not wanting to hurt you. This isn’t something he imagined having to use all his skills and talents for, but he thanks fuck he has them.

"Don't you tell me what to fuckin' do." You snarl while trying to hit him in the throat with your fist, causing him to almost let you slip.

"Jason!" Duke shouts out, knowing how bad it’ll be if you fall.

Jason tightens his grasp on you to the point your practically immobile, trying to calm you down with apologies and a panicked tone.

"Look, I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

"That doesn't excuse you acting like a dick." You hiss, causing him to go silent as he tries to figure out how to fix this situation.

"You're right. It doesn't. But…" he trails off, leading to an awkward moment of silence

"Dude, you suck at this." Duke says before popping his head over the counter now that the cake and kitchen utensils have ceased to be airborne. Stephanie popping up next to him to give Jason an icy glare of her own while Cass stares at her ruined snacks. Alfred sighing as he runs the bridge of his nose from the similarities between old memories and the current scenario in the kitchen.

"Shut up, twinkle twinkle." He snarls before looking down a very pissed and most likely very pregnant you with a wince. "I… I know I'm a jackass."

"Astute observation, Master Jason." Alfred mutters while he behind to search for some cleaning supplies for the buttercream incident.

"Damn, Alfred's roasting you." Duke quickly shuts up when Jason gives him a lethal glare despite your futile attempts a wiggling out of his grasp. "Shutting up now."

Eventually you stop struggling, heaving in exhaustion and pitifully fighting back tears at your ruined gender reveal.

"I… Shouldn't be acting like a such an asshole. To you, specifically. You don't deserve that and I'm sorry." Jason tries as soon as he sees your lower lip start to wobble. He knows he’s prickly, but this is a new low that he’s not proud of.

"Now, you wanna apologize?" You’re honestly too emotional to deal with this. But, it’s the fact that he’s actually trying to give a meaningful apology when hardly anyone else does that makes you listen. Even if you’re mentally tearing him to shreds with your teary eyes.

"Yes. Now, I want to apologize." He sighs, putting you down. It’s quite a sit. Him not only apologizing, but him also doing it covered in white frosting and blue cake crumbs. "I'm… I'm not going to give you a bunch of excuses. I'm a jerk. But, I'm not heartless. I took this too far."

"You took it too far when you ate my frickin' fried cornbread." Comes your deadpan tone as you cross your arms. The fabric of your hoodie moving slightly to reveal the faintest of baby bumps.

"You're still mad about- You know what, fair enough. Don't eat the pregnant chick's food. Lesson learned." He starts to say exasperatedly before changing course at your stare and realizing he needed to suck it up.

“But, in my defense, it was really good.” He pipes off quickly, as an appeasing compliment.

Judging from the way your eyes further narrow and the reigning silence, he can tell he missed the mark.

Instead he tries to change course.

"Listen, I know this won't make up for it, but… I did see some vintage baby stuff in the attic when I snooped up there once."

"Oh, you found Master Bruce's old thing." Alfred exclaims with slightly raised brows. Coming back with Clorox wipes and all sorts of other supplies for the mess you had made. (He blames Jason, however. Don’t fret, dear one.)

"Wait, pause. Did you say those were Bruce's old baby clothes?"

"Yes, Master Jason.”

“I thought those were little girl’s baby dress. They looked like something a goth Victorian child mixed with a pilgrim would wear."

“I assure you they are Master Bruce’s.”

Everyone suddenly has a collective thought and a mighty need. Cake forgotten momentarily.

"Alfred, are there pictures of him in those clothes?" You ask with barely contained mischief, all anger and sadness gone as delight fills you. Mood swings could be such a blessing and a curse.

“Why, I do believe so.” There was a hint of knowing in Alfred's tone. One that also was finding delight in the idea he knew was passing through everyone's minds.

Immediately, and with renewed vigor, your head whips to Jason.

"Help me find the pictures and get me some Jokerized fries-."

"And, throw in a foot massage." Stephanie adds before you can finish. The suggestion causing Jason's eyes to widen while Duke shudders.

"What?!"

“Eww.”

"I kinda don't want him touching my feet. Too weird." You say. Even if they do ache often your not sure you really want the guy who had made your life hell before touching you so much. Even if he was apologetic.

“Oh, thank god.” He mutters under his breath before Stephanie speaks up again.

"Then let me have one. I bought the cake and I was looking forward to it. I had to fight the temptation not to spoil the surprise."

"I feel like that was a pun." Duke mutters.

"It wasn't."

A lighter tone settles over the kitchen as Alfred starts to clean. You tried to help, feeling embarrassment at having made such a mess. But, everyone else had stepped in to pick up the slack on account for your condition as Duke called it.

"Did you ever figure it out, Cass?" You asked curiously as you sat at the counter. A bit surprised that she hadn't disappeared as soon as the whole things had started. You both had always been cordial with each other. However, you knew she preferred to be alone at times. Hence, your lack of interaction. You had assumed she would have fled by now.

"Thought you had a stomach bug. Not a baby. This is better." Comes her short response. There's a subtle hint of wonder on her face. She's gotten better at sharing her feelings with other's so it's nice to see such an expression.

"Am I the only one terrified of how calm she is after she just threw an entire cake at Jason and was about to cast iron him?" Duke says while he finishes wiping the frosting from the skillet you had wielded earlier. The question causes Alfred to chuckle when you give Duke a narrowed look yourself.

"I remember Miss Martha throwing a chair at Master Thomas when she was pregnant with Master Bruce, so this, I dare say, is quite tame."

That comment makes more than a few eyebrows to raise and Jason to let out a whistle, while also realizing that is could've been worse for him in the long run.

"Why'd she do that?"

"Bruce decided to grace the world with his presence in the middle of the night."

"Ha!"

"I always knew he had been more in the dark."

Snickers could be heard before Alfred continued to explain. It was rare he got to share such stories.

"And, Thomas made the foolish mistake of asking her if she could hold Bruce in until a more reasonable hour."

"Alfred, he was a doctor." Stephanie points out.

"In his defense. Neither had slept for that entire week from the anticipation of Master Bruce’s arrival. But, really should have kept quiet on the matter. We would still have that lovely cherry wood chair if he had."

A round of laughter could be heard. You had laughed so hard that there were tears in your eyes as you giggled your way up to the attic.

Things had been ruined, but things had gotten better. If only they could stay better.

Down in the Batcave, Tim had gotten a message in between a few of the cases he was currently working on.

"Jon and I will stop by tomorrow, my dude." He read while taking a sip of this third energy drink for that afternoon. He only nodded in acknowledgment before going back to his work.

Elsewhere, on the Kent family farm, Conner grinned excitedly at his phone before tucking it away and stretching. He'd be seeing his favorite person tomorrow. Hopefully when they saw him they'd remember the best night of their life. It was definitely his.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: As funny it would be to have Conner just be a sweet goof, I want him to be yandere for this. I struggled to include that last part to show it, but hopefully it works.

A/N: Also, this is the calm before the storm. I kinda wanna try to make it angsty next chapter. And, not gonna lie, it might be brutal. But, I wanna challenge myself so when I make an AU I can do a good job on it.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll! I had been planning on a girl for Reader, so I was a bit surprised. Might save that for the AU. Time to name pick, and if y’all want y’all can suggest nurseries. Can’t guarantee we’ll do polls for them, but it’ll still be fun.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist

@bunbunboysworld @ellaprime7 @bad4amficideas @victoria1676 @nebulousmoon3990 @n-lol @ellelabelle @vanessa-boo @twinklingbeautifulstars @wisefuncherryblossom @mybones537 @pato-spoiler-27 @darktrashpoetry @kitkatkitmeow @eyeless-kun @love-zami @cloudserenity @roseapov @nommingonfood @minkyungseokie @nervousalpacalady @allycat4458 @shadowytravelerlover @faimmm @otterluver05 @ousama-tobio @gabbiegabbie24 @timotheechalametswifeys @princessninii @sweetsugerskull @exactlynumberonekryptonite @sillysealsies @caged-birdies-blog @sirenetheblogger @wpdarlingpan @h0neysiba @jjsmeowthie @00hellohello00 @agsggebhzgehkfisnx @misokins @chenlelover @twismare @ssak-i @justcameheretoread

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #pregnant!reader #yandere conner kent #yandere conner kent x reader #conner kent x reader #conner kent

2K notes · View notes