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m1ckeyb3rry · 5 hours

Note

CHAPTER FOUR WAS SO GOOD UGHH literally the only fanfic I have ever loved so much and wait for updates like this. Am so excited for the next one!!!

On the topic of finally opening requests, I was wondering if I could ask for head-canons of what a relationship with Seishiro and a female reader would be like. If we want to be specific, maybe related to the fanfic? Like, how you would imagine their relationship would have been like back when they were still in high school, young and with Nagi’s past soccer career and all. Don’t feel pressured to write this, and good luck with everything!😽😽

── DATING NAGI!

Synopsis: Headcanons about having Seishiro Nagi as your boyfriend.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Nagi x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warnings: none really, just generally fluffy and silly

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON i hope you like where i go w the story in the future!! and hehe now that we’re in the past arc of peregrine you will actually get to see all of the nitty gritty details of their relationship in the fic itself so i won’t spoil it 🤫 but i love nagi ofc so i’ve added some general headcanons on what i think he would be like as a bf

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

no matter how the two of you get together, reo is somehow involved LMAOAOAO like bro is ALWAYS at the scene of the crime in some way shape or form just because i don’t think nagi would really pick up on the fact that he has a crush on you without outside intervention

it would also definitely be a jump scare when he confesses!! you would have zero idea it’s coming because he literally hasn’t changed how he acts towards you whatsoever

canonically he doesn’t really interact with a lot of people or have a lot of friends and he’s not aggressive with romance so i just don’t think he’d really know what the appropriate method of telling someone you like them is

would probably say some shit like “reo says i have a crush on you” and would be so nonchalant about it meanwhile you’re like “???” because you did not even realize he knew your name and also why is reo being brought up

i honestly think he would not be a bad boyfriend. yes he is lazy and unmotivated but he does what he needs to do and if something is important to him he generally puts in effort for it

that’s another reason why it would take him foreverrr to ask you out — he would have to like you enough that he realizes he does in fact want to have a relationship with you even if it is a hassle

he doesn’t have social media though so don’t expect there to be an official announcement that you guys are together or anything like that HAHA

he would probably forget to tell anyone that the two of you are dating and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or is trying to hide you or anything he literally just does not care what other people think and would prefer not to talk them if possible so it never comes up

you’ll show up to an event with him and everyone’s like “omg nagi who is this” and he’s like “this is my girlfriend” and someone (probably otoya tbh) is like “since when have you had a girlfriend” and he’s like “it’s been two years 😐”

i think he would be fire at insulting people just because of how many video games he plays…that man has seen some of the worst sides of humanity

the world is lucky he’s a pacifist and avoids conflict because he has some vile stuff stored away (i will never be over him asking barou if he practiced kneeling because he’s about to make him his servant)

this particular quality makes him the BEST person to talk shit with

he’s not a gossipy boyfriend in the sense that he doesn’t have anything juicy of his own to contribute to the conversation but i’m pretty sure he mentioned he watches dramas at one point so you know he’s locked tf in if you need to complain abt someone

he will sit there and be so invested in the tea…def would not give any useful advice but he will make fun of anyone bothering you so you still end up feeling better

i don’t think he would get jealous honestly

the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t cross his mind at all because why would he date someone he didn’t trust fully???

i would say he expects the same from you because he would but at the same time he voluntarily talks to one (1) other person besides you and that’s reo so the opportunity for you to be jealous just wouldn’t even crop up

definitely super clingy and cuddly

loves being babied too

according to epnagi he has this whole automatic system in his apartment to clean and do laundry and i think he’d be fine if you appropriate that so no more cleaning!! but you will have to cook because that man literally only eats fruit jellies

genuinely how is he so built and not dying of malnutrition SKJFDSHKJ

he probably is terrible at coming up with date ideas so it’s up to you to plan things

again it’s not malicious i think for him just spending time with you is his ideal date!! like he doesn’t see the point in getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy when you could just eat at home and be comfortable together

but if it’s an important day or you tell him that you want him to suggest something for once, he WILL go all out (which means calling reo for advice and doing what he tells him to)

overall communication is key with him. he’s not particularly sensitive or in tune with other people’s emotions so being passive aggressive or expecting him to read your mind will honestly just end up making your mood worse because he will not pick up on the fact that something is wrong

but if you tell him what you want him to change he will happily do it!! he just needs to be told very clearly if you’re upset or need him to do something different

honestly it would be very refreshing. there are zero games with nagi and he doesn’t really try to hide anything — what you see is what you get 100% of the time

overall 10/10 would date idc haters dni he’s a sweetheart and he’s doing his best

#nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #headcanons #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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steve-language-rogers · 4 hours

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Should Have Known Better

A pool day with the Avengers causes Steve to figure out your secret. Hurt/comfort. Steve Rogers x f!reader. Steve being so sweet and protective and perfect. Set sometime when all the Avengers (including Bucky) are happy and living in the tower together. Reader is also an Avenger. Oneshot. 3.6k.

Tw: Reader is being abused by an unspecified male someone close to her. Dissociation. Bruises. Anxiety. Please take care of yourself if this content may trigger you.

A/N: This is my first fic and has been in my notes a LONG time. Wrote it for myself when I was going through something tough and figured there might be others who could use a lil fictional man comfort.

18+ only. Minors DNI. I do not consent to my work being translated, reposted, put on other platforms, or stolen.

GIF by @buckyscombatboots

You should have known better.

Some snide remark you make with a mischievous look at Tony about being a little rusty after his bad dive into the water would come back to bite you in the ass. He's the king of snide remarks, and no insults, no matter how playful, go unpunished. Most of the time, you took his teasing as a sign that he liked you. Today, the consequences of his taunting were much more than you bargained for.

August in Manhattan was scorching, so the team was lounging at the Tower's rooftop pool for a rare day of relaxation. You used to love swimming, but you chose to stay dry in your coverup for a reason–a good reason.

However, Tony could never have known this. A few drinks later and, "You know what makes iron rust faster, Y/N, water!" The next thing you knew you were pushed from the edge of the pool straight into the water.

Gasps of disbelief and giggles filled the air from the team, alongside a lightly chastising, "Tony!" from Steve. When you got your head back to the surface, you shrieked at him with indignation, a smiling tugging on your lips as you pulled yourself back onto the edge. Thankfully, it had all happened too fast and the water made too much of a splash for them to have seen your skin when you went under.

"You'll pay for that when you're least expecting it, Stark," you warned, stamping your soaked feet inside.

"Y/N, where are you going?" asked Natasha., smiling You paused in the doorway.

"To dry off..." you say with a laugh, said as if it was obvious.

"Why don't you just take your coverup off and dry off in your bathing suit out here?" Bucky offered.

"Uhh...I don't want to get sunburned," you explained lamely.

"Sugar, there's an umbrella five feet away from you," said Sam.

"C'mon, no one's gonna judge you if your six pack isn't a defined as Thor's." Tony joked. Thor wiggled his eyebrows at Bruce, who shook his head in exasperation.

"Guys, just let her go," Steve defended.

Your response rushes out of your mouth and you shift your weight from foot to foot, "I'd really rather just dry this off inside quickly. I'll be right back." You turn and continue into the room, and turn to close the door after you, only to be stopped by Steve.

"Right behind you!" he called out, "I just have to grab something quickly," he smiled.

You held the door open for him and gazed up at his sweet expression, hoping he couldn't see how your eyes sparkle for him. "You didn't have run, Steve. I would've waited for you."

"Well," he tilts his head shyly, "I know, but I didn't want to hold you up," he says. "I know you didn't want to get wet today and I'm sure you're uncomfortable." Ugh, why did he always have to be so conscientious?

"Plus," he whispers, leaning close to your ear, "you're dripping all over Tony's expensive hardwood." He meets your eyes with a teasing gaze and nudges your elbow before heading down the hall.

You walk as quickly as you can to the closest bathroom, trying your best not to drip all over the place. Since you're wearing a bathing suit under your coverup, you don't bother to close the door as you strip off the garment and start drying it with a hair dryer.

You should have known better.

The loud whir of the dryer prevents you from hearing Steve's footsteps as he returns. "Y/N?" he calls. You don't notice him approaching until he right on the other side of the doorway. "You can wear this if you wan–what the fuck?"

Shit! You slam the bathroom door shut but it's too late. You know he's already seen the purple and yellow bruises covering most of your ribcage and abdomen.

In typical protective Cap fashion, the door instantly yanks back open as he storms in. Does Steve respect his teammates privacy more than any of the other Avengers? Yes. But his concern for their safety always takes precedence over privacy.

His eyes are wide, his brows are furrowed, and his mouth is hanging open. His whole body is tensed and you can see that Cap quickly replaced easygoing Steve the moment he caught sight of you.

"What the fuck happened to you, Y/N? Why are you covered in bruises like you've been beaten to shit?!" You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your face away from him. He's sounds mad. In a different situation, you'd have the wherewithal to know that he's just scared for you.

After recognizing your fear, he takes a deep breath to calm himself and softens his voice. His eyes are trained on you, desperately searching for a hint as to what's going on. Stepping closer to you and placing his hand gently on your arm, he asks again, "Y/N, what happened to cause all of these bruises?" His anger has dissipated from his words, but the question hold just as much authority as anytime Cap speaks.

"Steve, please" you whimper, trying to back away from the intensity of his gaze. "Please don't worry about it, it's nothing," you beg. You're staring at the marble counter, the tiled wall, even the damn wet coverup that started all of this as you attempt to avoid his gaze.

It's completely futile, as always when Steve is concerned about you and won't relent. "Y/N," he holds your jaw lightly, forcing you to face him, "I need you to tell me how you got those bruises."

The statement is final. You know he knows that they're not from a mission (he reads every report to make sure no one has gotten injured) and that he's not going to believe they're from some clumsy accident (he's had too many bruises himself and can tell what kind of marks a targeted attack leaves).

You can't tell him the truth. You close your eyes again to avoid his gaze, "It's fine Steve, they're almost healed," you say to try to deflect the question. He still doesn't let up.

"Y/N, did someone do this to you?" he asks, already half-sure of the answer. Your silence confirms his suspicions. He lowers his voice as soft as it can go, knowing what the next question will do to you. "Did someone close to you do this to you?" he asks.

Your eyes pop open involuntarily. You feel trapped and screwed because he knows–how did he know?

The instant he sees terror in your gaze, his heart breaks for you. How could he not have known? You're frozen in shock, reactionless. He moves his hand to the back of your head, caressing your hair and bringing your face into his chest. His other arm wraps around your back, soothingly rubbing circles on it as he hugs you into him. "Oh, Y/N..." is all he can say for a moment, his voice wavering with the pain he feels for you and the guilt he feels for not seeing the signs sooner.

Tears stream down your cheeks but your face is frozen still in worry. You couldn't break down sobbing now to save your life if you needed to. It felt like your emotions just shut off completely. All you could do was hyperfocus on what you needed to do to keep yourself safe in that moment. Which was ridiculous, considering you were with Steve who had never, ever hurt you before. For some reason, danger still felt imminent.

Steve pulled back, cradling your face in his hands, brows furrowed with worry and eyes the slightest bit glossy. "You're safe now sweetheart. We're gonna keep you safe. I'm gonna keep you safe."

You nod because your brain tells you it's the right response. You're not sure if you're actually hearing anything he's saying. You register the feeling of his thumb, swiping across your cheek. He must see the glazed over look on your face. You think he calls your name a couple times and the next few minutes are blurry. You're breathing, breathing deeply and slowly with him. He's guiding you back to yourself.

You blink a couple of times as your awareness sharpens back into focus. "With me again sweetheart?" Steve asks, thumb still caressing your cheek. It's bad, he knows that. You need to see a professional right away, but he needs you conscious and present in your body first. "Y/N, I'm so sorry that this has happened to you. I'm never going to let it happen again. But right now, we really need to get you to a doctor."

You're shaking your head violently halfway through his sentence. "No, no I don't need a doctor," you say instinctively.

"Sweetheart, I've seen bruises like this before and we need to make sure that nothing is broken," he says. "I can call in Bruce, or Helen, if you'd like. No one else on the team has to know if you don't want them to. But we need to make sure you're okay."

"Okay?" you ask, confused. "He's going to know, he always says I can't go to a doctor or the hospital, that they won't even treat me because nothing is wrong and he'll be so mad if I do it, I promised not to." The look in your eyes is wild, but you're speaking in sentences again and Steve takes this as a good sign. What you're saying is an entirely different story. But if he wants to help you, he can only take it one step at a time.

"He's never going to find out, I promise. Okay? You're not even going to leave the building, just downstairs in the medbay. No paperwork, no records, nothing. I'll stay with you if you want." You don't look convinced. "I promise he'll never know, alright? Do you trust me when I say that?" he asks, hoping to appeal to your rational side.

"Steve, I–I... he always finds out everything I try to keep from him. Why would this time be any different?" you're desperate and terrified, and Steve wants to rip that guy's throat out for everything he's done to make you like this.

"Sweetheart, because this time you have a team of superheroes and spies who are behind you," Steve says with a small smile.

This is what gets through to you. Your gaze flickers between his eyes, and your brows are still taught with fear. Slowly, however, you nod your head and say, "Okay Steve."

Relief floods his face as he pulls you back in for a gentle hug. "It's gonna be alright," he promises. You want to believe him so badly.

Thank you for reading! Comments & reblogs are always appreciated. If I can help anyone feel comforted by this, I'll have done my job<3

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vivwritesfics · 1 month

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Translator

Oscar Piastri doesn't need a translator, Lando's sister/ Oscars girlfriend disagrees.

Exists in the same universe as "oscah" but they can be read as standalones

Oscar wasn't doing anything special,just talking to Logan when she came over. He greeted her with a small hello, placed his arm over her shoulder and went right back to talking to Logan.

It was a perfectly ordinary interaction, the Formula One drivers thought.

Once Oscar had finished his sentence, as he waited for Logan to reply, she held up her hand. "I got this," she mumbled.

"Got what?" Logan asked, admittedly a little scared. There wasn't anything wrong with Oscar's girlfriend. I mean, Oscar loved her, so she had to be doing something right.

She let out a scoff, one that had the boys knowing that, whatever she was saying, she had to be joking. "So, what Oscar has just said to you, Logan, was 'Hugh Jackman, Kangaroo, shrimp, shrimp, boomerang'."

She looked so serious, Logan couldn't help but laugh. But she looked at him like she was expecting something, eyebrows slightly raised, head tipped towards him. "Logan, your response?"

"Oh my god." It really was ridiculous and oh so her. How hadn't they gotten so used to her shenanigans by now? "Uhm, boomerangs, shrimp. Koala, koala, Straya."

With her face still seriously, she turned towards her boyfriend. "Logan just said he thinks you're an asshole and he wants to give you a big ol' kiss."

"Hey!" Logan cried. "I... did not say that."

Oscar laughed as he pulled her into his chest and pressed his lips against the top of her head. She kissed her boyfriend's cheek and said a goodbye to the two of them, heading back to her brother in the McLaren garage.

She didn't know when she started translating Australian for Oscar. It wasn't something she did for Daniel when he was teammates with her big brother, Lando. But, with Oscar, it just felt right.

The way he wore that little, blushy smile once she'd done it. The first time she'd translated Australia for Lando, he'd simply pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. It had been to shut her up, Oscar not ready to admit that he loved it.

And then, every time since that, Oscar had let her. It was incredible to see the kind of absurd shit she came up with. Her go to's were boomerang and shrimp, but she liked to throw some random ones in there.

But then, the bit started getting old. She'd done it to everybody on the grid, and it was no longer tripping anybody up.

That was when she'd started asking for a response. Hearing the other drivers scramble for a response full of Australian things, it was way more amusing than she'd expected.

But then she started translating what they were saying back to Oscar. It was always some admission of love or somebody insulting him every time.

And, every time Oscar would grin and pull her into his embrace, pressing a kiss to her cheek or the top of her head (never one for much PDA).

It was incredibly fun 'speaking Australian' with Daniel Ricciardo. They'd try and have an actual conversation, with neither of them actually knowing what the other was saying. There had been a mixture of laughs and heated arguments in Australian, with neither of them knowing the subject matter.

But, her favourite time to do it was early in the morning, when Oscar would pull her in and kiss her shoulder before settling back to sleep.

She rolled over and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Osc," she mumbled, and he let out a hum, his eyes still shut. "Shrimp, koala, Hugh Jackman," she whispered and kissed the underside of his jaw.

"Shrimp, koala, Hugh Jackman to you too," he said and squeezed her against him.

Shrimp, koala, Hugh Jackman = I love you in Australian.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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k9wa · 2 months

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⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.

⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….

from this request !

it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time.

and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.

boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.

you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes.

“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”

you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.

“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.

“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”

he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?”

you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.

now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit.

“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help.

he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”

fine, you thought. two can play that game.

you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.

you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red.

then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.

his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.

you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.

boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.

“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?”

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.

“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.

“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—”

“all done.”

all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.

“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”

boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol.

“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.”

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

#‘kawa he doesn’t chew—‘ REALITY IS WHAT I MAKE IT.#plus its funny #boothill #boothill x reader #boothill hsr #boothill x you #boothill headcanons #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #hsr headcanons #UNEARTHLY

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eff-plays · 9 months

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The way Astarion reacts depending on how you compliment him in the mirror scene (I have no interest in insulting him so I won't be covering that here, have fun though!) drives me fucking insane.

"I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."

And you get two types of responses. First, your choices for compliments are

Strong, piercing eyes.

The creases when you laugh.

Pick the first, and he's pleased. "Go on," he says, sounding very seductive. You're giving him exactly what he wants, and he's encouraging it.

Pick the second, and he gets upset. He's an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother! You can do better than that. Even if you meant it as a compliment (I know my Tav definitely did), he doesn't seem to take it that way.

Your second options are

That dangerous smile.

The way your hair curls around your ears.

Once again, the first one pleases him, and he even praises your efforts. Very good. Now finish the scene and tell him he's beautiful.

But if you say the second, he gets exasperated. This is meant to be flattery, not poetry. Just tell him he's beautiful and we can call it a day, he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He doesn't need to hear this crap, just tell him what he wants and fuck off.

Of course, it doesn't matter how you get to this point, and every dialogue option at the end of the scene nets you the same amount of approval. If you call him beautiful, it's +1. Call someone else beautiful, it's +1. If you ask whether he just wants shallow praise (aka don't call him beautiful), you get +1. So this is me pulling this out of my ass I guess.

I always choose to call him beautiful becuase 1) he is and 2) my Tav thinks so too and would oblige him if he asked for it that directly.

But I am obsessed with the different routes you can take to get to this point and what they imply.

Strong, piercing eyes and dangerous smile pleases him more outwardly, but doesn't actually affect the outcome. He's satisfied and confident with these compliments. They confirm what he's trying to project into the world, what he aspires to have and to be.

The creases when he laughs? The hair curling around his ears? Those are things he can't control, can't use against someone else. But he asked to be seen, and if this is what Tav sees, then what does that mean for him?

Why are they complimenting his laugh lines? Why are they speaking poetry at him? Why are they seeing things he has no control over, and why are they revealing them to him?

He doesn't want shallow praise. Questioning this nets approval, and giving it to him doesn't increase approval. What he wants is assurance that what he's trying to be is what the world sees, that he's in control.

And if you actually act as a mirror, point out the things unique to him that you see, he gets uncomfortable, because you're showing a reflection of someone he thinks he's not, of someone he has no control over. And that's scary, even if it's supposedly complimentary.

Because what's scarier than losing control?

But then, compared to how genuinely upset he seems when you insult him (I looked these up on YT for context), the laugh lines and hair curls are still accepted as compliments. So what does he think when Tav says these things?

They see past his piercing eyes and dangerous smile. They see something else that they like even more, things he's not aware of or doesn't appreciate as much. What does that feel like, to cultivate such a perfect image of oneself for the purposes of seducing and tricking others, and then be stumped when someone walks past all that and points out something entirely different that they noticed and found endearing?

Do you do him a favor, and tell him you see only what he wants to be? Or do you speak the truth, and show him what he actually is? Which one is better? Which one is worse?

#i have my own headcanons of course and this is influenced by those #but i just ... AUGH the mirror scene!!!#bg3 #bg3 meta #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #long post #also 'strong piercing eyes' lmao #sad wet puppy eyes more like #also he says he feels seen with tav later on like!! AUGH #DO YOU SEE HIS WANT FOR CONTROL!! OR DO YOU SEE HIS NEED FOR RECOGNITION!! WHICH ONE DO YOU ENFORCE!!

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mockerycrow · 1 year

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Hey hey, can I request the 141 boys + König's reaction to a random soilder slapping fem! Reader's ass, preferably platonic! where they see reader as a sister. Thank you your work is *chef's kiss*

141 + König’s Reaction to Fem!Platonic!Reader’s Ass Slapped By Rando

cod masterlist

I’m having a 400 follower celebration!!

A/N: I feel ehhh about this one, but rest assured that i tried!! also, all characters are aware you can defend yourself. they are just protective.

You were talking with him softly, leaning an arm on the nearby counter with your hips jetted out. You laughed at something he said, your head tilting to the right for a moment before there’s a loud smack! you make a panicked noise and turn around quickly and you’re met with the face with a young man with a smug face, with an expression like he did something that you liked. Your eyebrows furrow and you prepare to give the young man an ass whooping when he swoops in.

-> John Price

“Keep your bloody hands to yourself, soldier!” Oh, Price is fucking fuming. He doesn’t stand for workplace harassment and unwanted touching for anyone, this is the fucking military—not a place to try to hookup.

Price does not let the man get a word in, even when the man is stuttering out his apologies—that are ordered by Price, by the way—and he drags him out of the kitchen area to file an official report of his behavior.

He subtly threatens the man, ensuring that if this behavior continues, “you will be dealt with. I will promise you on that.”

Price is very aware that you can handle yourself, but he just was not in the mood.

-> Kyle Garrick

He’s seething and Kyle doesn’t hesitate to push the man away from you, shouting, “Have you gone absolutely mad?!”

It does not matter if this man ranks above Kyle, he throws ranks out the window by this point, yelling about how he’s disgusting. “You’re acting like a bloody chav, get ahold of yourself!”

You’re so convinced Kyle is about to punch this guy, but he shows a good amount of self-restraint, spitting another insult through gritted teeth, voice low, “Next time you’re being dodgy, I’m throwing you to the fuckin’ wolves.”

-> John MacTavish

He pushes himself between you and the offender, an unhappy and unamused look prickling at his features. He has a faux-smile, his lips tight and uncomfortable. He laughs and claps a hand down on the man’s shoulder, making the man wince from the force.

“Buddy!” Soap calls him, his tone edging onto unsettling happiness. He’s absolutely furious because no one deserved unwanted touching. Soap sees you as a little sister and he’s always been protective of his little family. the 141

He leans in and whispers something to the man, causing all of the color to drain from the guy’s face and he runs off, causing you to glance at Soap. “What did you tell him?”

Soap just offers you a cheeky smile. “Oh, y’know, If he decides ta’touch anyone like that ever again, I’ll make sure that he physically cannot.”

-> Ghost

Ghost immediately pulls rank, right away. He isn’t the type to do it really, but this is absolute unacceptable behavior. His voice is dripping venom and is rough as sandpaper, nearly snarling with every word—yet keeping a calm composure at the same time.

“Go outside and dig a hole. Don’t stop until it’s as deep as your height.” “W.. What? Sir..—“ “Do not make me repeat myself. Go on.”

He 100% uses PT (physical training) as a punishment on these types of guys, and ordering him to dig a hole is a task laced with humiliation.

His glare screams “I’ll kill you if you touch her again, and I’m not joking”. Ghost is very protective of the ones he cares about, and that includes you,

-> König

Using his size to his advantage, he looms over the man with a deadly glare, the rumors you’ve heard—the terrifying man that belongs on the battlefield? That very man appears in the common kitchen that night.

He’s also the type to pull rank—and this is one of those times no one realizes he’s a Colonel until he mentions it and absolutely does if the guy talks back to him. “What did you just say to me?”

König snarls with every word, berating the man’s behavior, asking him if he would like that done to him or any woman in his life, etc.

You would have to hold this fucker back from actually hurting him, or else you’d end up with König on a two week suspension.

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colourstreakgryffin · 4 months

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I was wondering if you can do Alastor x daughter! Reader? She’s manifested from his magic and because of that she has some of Alastor’s powers. However, she’s the complete and total opposite of him. She’s kind and sweet like Charlie, but is very shy. She never likes bringing out her true demon form for she is very terrifying. Alastor is very protective of her. Although, what if she sees Alastor get hurt by another overlord or Adam and he turns into her demon form to protect him and everyone is surprised by this and maybe even terrified of her.

OMFG. Yes! Second Alastor request in a rooowww! I love this man uncontrollably and he would be a good daddy. He’s a stag papa with his little fawn for reaaall! I love this idea, lots of loves and so much thanks for giving Hazbin Hotel more attention— or, I guess Alastor!

Father! Alastor- Hell’s Angel

Okay… Alastor wasn’t suspecting to pop a kid out of thin air when he actually wanted to pop a kid out of thin air. His magic is very powerful, no doubt but he birthed a child from solely his own powers and about 100% of his own DNA so his daughter’s features are primarily matching his own but there are some personal key differences Alastor wanted you to have to seperate yourself from him

So, you’re not a carbon copy of your dad, the Radio Demon. More just have the same deer features and red colouring

Alastor also wasn’t suspecting to have born an angel of his own. Sweet, affectionate, cheery, always smiling but smiling in a more welcoming and natural manner than her papa. He doesn’t mind it, you’re his babygirl. He loves you dearly, even after he just shat you out from literally nothing. He’s just surprised!

Well, at least Charlie loves you because you’re like… exactly what she loves and Alastor gets jealous of how well Charlie bonds with his own daughter!

Alastor has never known how to handle his own powers so when you begin manifesting voodoo dolls and portals containing all kinds of demonic beasts, he has to figure out how to get around all of it without hurting you a single bit. He has a whole plan scheduled out for anytime your powers trigger at random

Alastor’s protective, loving, clingy and carries you around a lot. He loves being able to bond with you, he likes hearing your cute deer noises when you’re trying to talk to him. He never lets you leave his sight and whilst he reframes from murder, he may just kill Vox for insulting his little fawn

Alastor now has all the full right to tell awful Dad jokes, since he is a proper Dad now. Rest in peace once again, Angel Dust

Yes. Alastor is the type to spoil his daughter. Spoil rotten, he isn’t going to stop and he isn’t sorry. He loves his little princess and no matter what, he’ll give her what she wants. If anybody dares to take what she wants from her, he’ll send them to double hell then give his babygirl extra hugs and kisses as apologises

Alastor knows, like him, you have your own full demon form and for a harmless sweetheart like yourself(that only uses your powers to help the Hotel staff). Your full form is actually terrifying and you know that, which is why you avoid it. You don’t want to scare anybody, especially not your beloved dad so you always reframe from getting too mad

Just let Papa Alastor handle anything bad. He’ll protect and care for you in the most sweet, cuddly way possible

Alastor is a lunatic, barely sane, monstrous all under a passive-aggressive, well-mannered, dapper 1930s gentleman image but when it comes to you, you’re the most healthy thing he has and he feels genuine love, care and affection for his own offspring. He only views you as his daughter, nothing else or anything exploitative. After all, he acts more like the one serving you than anything. He’ll get you whatever you want, no questions asked

Alastor wants to keep you away from threats so when Adam attacks the Hazbin Hotel. He has no choice but to leave you with Charlie. However, this didn’t last long since you knew your father was struggling when you heard his voice’s radio effect cut out. That was immediately a sign that you, not even a ten-year-old, to jump in and it caused you to rampage against Adam when you used your powers to track down and make it over to Alastor

“PRINCESS! GET AWAY FROM HERE NOW!” Alastor, despite the giant thick cut across his chest, staining his red pinstriped coat, over the white trims of his dark red lapels, yells out as loud as he can to catch his child’s attention, to get her to back off. Struggling to rise up to his feet with his tall fluffy deer-like ears pinned back. A sign of his fear, not because of seeing his babygirl in her full demon form throwing everything she has at the angel, Adam but because you’re in so much danger attacking Adam

Adam isn’t a merciful being, despite being an Angel, and the risk to your life is extremely high. Your demon form is ten times more demonic than any sinner can manifest, due to being produced by raw demonic magic, you form into a pure demonic entity

Screeching out in a menacing echoey way, entirely black and clumpy, phasing in and out like mist, shaped like a mighty Wendigo deer with literally zero resemblance to your cute little form. To you, your father’s in danger and with his cane snapped in half, his powers limited and his radio voice effect gone

You can’t just sit around in Charlie’s arms and let Alastor get killed by this psycho angel!

You have to risk everything to let Alastor escape. However, he isn’t going anywhere without you and is frantically trying to think of a way to get you away from Adam as the said holy entity keeps throwing swings after swings with his holy sharpened guitar to break off all the attacks coming from your Wendigo-style full form, letting out many strings of hateful curses at both you and Alastor. It’s clear with all the shadowy spines and green electricity shocks that you’re desperately trying to fend off the much stronger Angel to try protect your father

But if the Radio Demon himself couldn’t take on Adam for any longer than a few minutes. Of course, you don’t stand a chance, lasting half the time Alastor did. Being beaten when Adam outspeed and charged down a devestating sharp swing on your full form’s form head after you attempt to attack again. Thinking rather fast, you used your magic to cushion the blow to avoid it actually killing you

Being thrown over on the opposite end to where Alastor is and fading back into your normal demon form, a nasty big cut all down your back to the end of your fluffy deer tail, sobbing and clenching fangs

The staff watching nearby were terrified yet impressed. Impressed a child of your age and confidence was able to get that many hits on Adam and manage to guard yourself from a attack from Adam himself, getting away with merely just one cut

The Radio Demon growls frustrated and outraged at being forced to watch his child being thrown around like some doll and get even more hurt, now cornered by Adam, since it’s clear he doesn’t care to attack Alastor anymore. Thinking just as fast and getting up properly with his snapped-into-two cane in one tightening fist

Alastor phases through into the shadows in an almost melting fashion, dragging you down with him in the same shadowy engulfing manner by a single black trail travelling over to where you laid, leaving the bloodthirsty human ancestor as the victor of this fight. Needless to say, Alastor was so pissed. Pissed he lost the fight when he had managed to get many hits on Adam at the first section of the fight and pissed that said Angel dared to put his hands on his angel

At least… you’re safe now. Bleeding, hurt, crying and tired from overworking yourself whilst laid in Alastor’s arms, but you’re alive and okay. In your father’s hold and safe. Away from the Hotel and protected by the Voodoo’s shadowy magic

“You’re okay, darling… you’re okay. Papa’s got you, he’s always got you”

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yandere-writer-momo · 25 days

Text

Yandere Head Canons:

The Distance Between

Yandere Ex Bully x Caretaker Fem Reader

TW: Bullying (trauma mentioned), smut, dubcon (convincing you to have sex after breakup), baby trapping, power imbalance, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, delusional behavior, gross, obsession, male masturbation (mentioned), etc.

When you were assigned a new patient, you had no idea it would be the Emiliano Villan, your childhood bully. The boy who tormented you from primary school up until your graduation. The boy who relented teased your looks and weight, the one who dumped cold water or bugs on you from the windows above, the one who sabotaged your lunch, and the one who made you cry yourself to sleep every night… yet you never showed him a reaction for all those years.

And now here he was in a wheelchair from getting into a head on collision after a night of partying. Perhaps karma had finally hit him? Emiliano looked so pathetic to you as he remained curled up on his bed. He was even more humiliated that someone like you had to care for him. The one who had gotten away… his dolly.

His temper was still as volatile as it was when you were younger. Emiliano often threw things at you and called you every insult known to man. His green eyes frequently checked your face for tears or anger, yet you never reacted much to him. It only angered him more. Yet there was a part of him that adored the way your eyes stayed on him.

Emiliano got a kick out of you. No matter what he did, you never reacted to his outbursts. You never cursed him out when he knocked over the meal you’d make him or when he dumped his drinks on you. It was just like the good old days of middle and high school!! When it was just you and him… you and your doll like face. Emiliano wanted to break you. Not physically like he was at the moment, but mentally. Taking out his anger on you made him feel better… and he didn’t realize just how awful he was until it was too late

“I don’t even know why you bother, I’m not going to eat any of the slop you make.” Emiliano chuckled as you swept up the meal off the floor. Your hour of cooking completely wasted. “You’re pathetic.”

It was a struggle everyday to wash him up and try to get him to take his medication. Emiliano would use his muscular arms to push against you and flail. It was when he landed a harsh punch to the side of your face that you gave up.

You quickly dropped him on his mattress as you clutched your swollen cheek. He gave you a smirk but it fell quickly when he noticed the tears gathered in your eyes. Why did it upset him to see you cry?

“You’re the same monster you’ve always been…” Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you rose to stand up. Your eyes filled with hatred. “To think I sympathized with you.”

Emiliano could only watch you walk away and gently shut the door behind you. His hand still outstretched to you while fear sunk into him. You weren’t going to leave him, right?

You didn’t come to work the next day. Emiliano laid in his bed in hopes that you would come but you didn’t… he began to struggle for get himself up and into his wheelchair. The young man cursed when he nearly crashed to the floor, but he was able to pick himself back up to get into his mobility device and roll towards his window in hopes you’d come.

“She called off.” His butler informed him which made Emiliano frown. “You really need to be nicer to her. She’s the only one who accepted being your caretaker since you’re such an ill mannered man.”

Emiliano frowned and glanced at his lap in shame. His butler was right… he didn’t like the way she cried. It upset him to see her like that… she’d look so much prettier with a smile.

The next day you came back to work, except you didn’t try to make him anything to eat. Emiliano felt frustrated that you didn’t initiate any small talk with him or offer him any of your meals. He’d eat them this time! He would be better…

“I’m sorry.” Emiliano apologized to you, his head hung low. “I was cruel and I… I don’t deserve your pity.”

You gave him a nod of acknowledgment but you simply went about your day. It only made Emiliano feel even worse. He missed your voice already…

Emiliano began to study you more as you worked. He’d sit in his wheelchair and watch you clean up his room or prepare his medications. You had always been so pretty, but god you were breathtaking up close.

You noticed a shift in Emiliano, the young man now stared at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking. His eyes studied you like a scientists studied a specimen. Emiliano no longer insulted you, but now he complimented you for the smallest of tasks you’d complete. It was so strange… he even upped your pay .

He seemed enamored with you which only made your job more difficult since it’s been harder and harder to go home at a decent time to your boyfriend.

“Can you please stay a bit later? I have a hard time sleeping.” Emiliano softly asked you, his long lashes fluttered up at you.

“Okay, I can see if you can take anything for sleep.” Emiliano frowned when you began to check your bag for anything to give him. He didn’t want them… he wanted you to lay with him…

“Can’t you just sit beside me until I sleep?” Emiliano softly asked. “I won’t do anything, I promise.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You obediently sat beside Emiliano who guided your hand to rest on top of his head. “This is nice… can you call me Milo?”

“Alright… Milo.” You quirked a brow at him. What was with this sudden burst of affection? Emiliano smiled brightly when you ran your fingers through his chocolate hair. Your fingers were like magic…

Once Emiliano was asleep, you left for the day. Unaware that ‘Milo’ dreamt about you for the entire night… of the beautiful life you could have together.

Emiliano took his therapy more seriously when he noticed you in a more chipper mood as of late (you were leaving at a decent time to see your boyfriend). Were you happy to finally be able to call him by his pet name? He remembered someone telling him in middle school that you had a crush on him… he liked you too. He had always liked you, but he didn’t want anyone else to… it’s why he bullied you relentlessly. Why he made sure no one else wanted to have you… so you could be his. So your mind would only ever think of him and your eyes would always look at him, Emiliano hadn’t realized how twisted that way of thinking was until he was older… he had only followed what his father had done for his mother.

“I was thinking we could have dinner together.” Emiliano smiled up at you as he fidgeted with his sleeves. “Won’t that be lovely?”

You tried not to show your distaste, but decided to politely let him down. “I’m sorry Emil- Milo.” You corrected yourself before you continued to speak, “But I have to leave at my usual time, my boyfriend will be worried sick-“

You gasped when Milo threw himself on the floor. You quickly rushed to him to help him up. “Oh my god! Are you okay?”

Emiliano pulled you down to the floor with him in a hug, his arms desperately clutched onto you as his body shook with rage. “Boyfriend? You don’t… you can’t…”

Emiliano felt his breathing become ragged at the thought of you with another man… a man that wasn’t in a wheelchair. A man that was completely functional. This entire ordeal filled him with a new determination. He would walk again… and he’d show you that he was a much more suitable man for you.

Emiliano just holds you close as you helped him back into his wheelchair. His promise rung in his head. He wouldn’t let you be with another man… and he was willing to go to the extreme to make it happen.

Emiliano offered you more money to be his live in caretaker, which you were hesitant to accept but your boyfriend said the money would be good for both of you… a huge mistake on both of your parts.

You were a bit shocked when Emiliano moved you into the room beside him. “I just want you to be close… in case I need you.”

You didn’t have too much of a problem with it until you’d hear the whimpers late in the night. Soft gasps and whispers of your name escaped Emiliano’s lips whenever he thought you were asleep. It made you sick.

It was even worse when you’d have to help him clean up in the morning and his boxers would be covered in remnants of his semen. Emiliano’s cheeks would be flushed whenever you’d give him a bed bath, his well endowed member fully erect and weeping with precum. He never failed to make the experience awful for you… but the money was too damn good to pass up.

It was another month when you received a message from your boyfriend wanting to breakup since you spent too much time away… you were distraught, a fact that Emiliano took advantage of.

Emiliano pulled you into his wheelchair with his as he presses hot kisses up and down your neck as you cry. His hands eagerly grasp at your hips in desperation.

“You can… you can stay in my room. I’ll keep you company.” And you’re whisked into Emiliano’s bed as he locked his wheel chair to climb in with you. His lips all over yours in hungry kisses. “Take off your clothes, I promise I’ll satisfy you.”

And you, not even in your right mind, obey him. Your bare end is practically dragged to his mouth as he suckled on your slit like a starved man. His tongue eagerly wriggled in and out of your hole until you’re a whimpering mess.

“I want to fuck you… please let me fuck you.” Emiliano pulled away from you to lay back in the bed. “I’m still working on my legs, but I can still thrust from below. Please?”

You give in and help him shove his waistband down to his thighs. His cock easily slides in as he gasped and moaned from under you.

“Ah! Fuck!” Emiliano cursed at you tight you were before he gave an experimental thrust. You whine at the feeling. You hated to admit it, but Emiliano was much bigger than your ex-boyfriend ever was.

Emiliano just smiled up at you before he began to slam his hips into yours like a madman. He didn’t care that you were gripping onto his shoulders as if your life depended on it or that your eyes filled with tears from pleasure. You were finally his woman and he’d be damned if he didn’t bruise your cervix up properly.

“Milo! Milo!” You chanted his name like a mantra as his cock bullied your poor, neglected pussy. How long has it been since you’ve been fucked? Months? Nearly a year? It didn’t matter because this was the best sex you’ve had in a long time.

Emiliano pressed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss when he felt your walls flutter around him. Did you like being fucked like a whore? How about he fill you up like one too?

It’s a few more rough thrusts that made you see stars until you felt something molten hot fill you.

You’re a sobbing, soaking wet mess by the time he’s done. Your pussy swollen and your womb filled with Emiliano’s semen, your ex bully holding you close to his body in an inescapable hold.

“You can just stay here with me…” Emiliano kissed away your tears before he scooped his cum back up with two fingers to shove back inside of you. There was no more waste in this house, especially when it came to you.

From now on, there would be no more distance between the two of you. You’d be his, just like you were always meant to be… even if he had to get you pregnant with his child to do that. You were never getting away again.

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toffeecoco1 · 2 months

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@perpetualgrey's comment on this post

Ok my first instinct was to laugh, but then I realised you might be onto something???

Shen Yuan is LITERALLY an impostor, who’s more far more kind and beloved by Binghe than the original. The Guanyin pendant is a counterfeit, but it carries the love of Binghe’s mother and is far more precious than any real jade could ever be.

The heartbreak Binghe’s mother felt after realising that the Guanyin pendant was fake and she’d been tricked was part of what lead to the gradual decline of her health.¹ In wanting to do something kind for Binghe, she felt that she’d failed, and this led to her demise. What is Shen Qingqiu’s entire story, but trying to be kind to Binghe, feeling inadequate at this, and dying? (More than once!!)

Guanyin is a Bodhisattva associated with mercy, kindness, compassion and unconditional love. She is a patron of mothers, and is called upon in times of fear, uncertainty, and despair. The Bodhisattva she originated from is seen as a saviour, through whose grace even those with the most negative karma can achieve salvation. Even when she is not worshipped as a goddess, she is revered as the principle of love, compassion and mercy.² From wikipedia, “The act, thought and feeling of compassion and love is viewed as Guanyin. A merciful, compassionate, loving individual is said to be Guanyin.”²

The original Luo Binghe appears never to have lost his pendant. Shen Qingqiu tells us: “It was the only bit of warmth in Luo Binghe’s dark world, always by his side, and even in the future when he was at his darkest, it could summon up his last dregs of humanity.”¹ He also states that “it was Luo Binghe’s biggest berserk button.”¹

Our Luo Binghe does not cling to the pendant when he’s at his darkest: he clings to the love he has for his shizun and to memories of his kindness, and later, to the lifeless body of Shen Qingqiu himself. His biggest berserk button isn’t when people insult the pendant or his mother, or try to take it away; it’s Shen Qingqiu: when people insult him or try to take him away.

From the start, Shen Qingqiu expresses truly unconditional love for Binghe. He spends three years showing endless compassion and kindness, actions which feel insignificant to him but are more than enough to completely change Binghe’s life. He holds no blame or resentment for the things he fears Binghe will do to him; though he doesn’t want to be tortured, he forgives Binghe for it nonetheless, before it has even happened. He sacrifices himself to save Binghe as his mind is eaten away at by Xin Mo, when he believes that Binghe just slaughtered a hundred Huan Hua Disciples, when Binghe’s reckless use of the sword is putting countless more lives at risk.³

Shen Qingqiu is a counterfeit that is more precious than the original could ever be. For Binghe, he personifies kindness, compassion and unconditional love. His regrets over his treatment of Binghe lead to his temporary demise. Binghe clings to him in his darkest moments, and he is that which Binghe protects most fiercely.

I always found the pendant’s role in the story to be almost lacking: it’s treated as such an important item to Binghe, yet in the end its return is almost anticlimactic. But perhaps this is because the role the pendant played in Bing-ge’s story has been overtaken by Shen Qingqiu. When he returns the pendant, Binghe is relieved and appreciative: but his joy seems to stem more from the fact that Shen Qingqiu held onto it and cherished him than from the pendant itself. The pendant doesn’t matter all that much to him anymore, at least not compared to how important it seems to have been in PIDW. Binghe doesn't need an object to symbolize love and kindness; he has a person to love, who loves him back.

In conclusion: Shizun was in fact the fake jade Guanyin pendant all along!

sources cited below :)

1. Seven Seas Volume 1, Chapter 1: Scum. Pages 40-41.

2. “Guanyin,” Wikipedia. There’s a lot more to her than what I mentioned here, she’s quite interesting.

3. Seven Seas Volume 2, Chapter 8: Death. Pages 154-156.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #bingqiu #svsss meta #meta #scum villain’s self saving system #i can’t believe i wrote a 650 word essay with citations instead of doing my coursework

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httpwintersoldier · 7 months

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『 bon appétit, baby. || sanji x reader 』

[PART 4 OF 4 - ONE PIECE'S KINKTOBER] - SANJI VER.

[SHANKS VER.] [BUGGY VER.] [MIHAWK VER.]

pairing: sub!sanji x f!reader words: medium-rare summary: to his relief, Sanji comes out on top in a tussle for your attention against Zoro. angst; smut; fluff.

It didn't take long after joining the Straw Hats to notice the animosity between the cook and the green-haired swordsman. Actually, it took no time - they fought throughout the whole duration of the rescue of your people from Alvida's pirates.

What you didn't notice, however, was how the fighting substancially increased after you joined.

"Yeah? Well, mouths were made for eating and speaking, mosshead, not to hold a third sword because you can't do the job with two - or gods forbid, one!" Sanji yelled, waving his knife in the air dramatically.

Zoro looked up and raised a brow, scoffing at the chef.

"At least I'm not afraid to use my hands in a fight. Scared to ruin the manicure, cook?" The swordsman replied in a teasing tone.

At this point, you were covering your ears with your hands, trying desperately to block the sound and focus on the book you were reading, but to no avail.

"Guys! Please! Can you fight somewhere else that is not a common area?"

Per your request, both men shut up, but not before mumbling some insults under their breath. Sanji resumed the dinner preparations and Zoro just left the kitchen (to sleep, you assumed).

You sighed, picked up the book and hit the opened pages against your face in frustration.

"Why are they constantly fighting? Don't they get tired? Don't you?" You asked, sliding the book back on the table and turning your head to face Nami with a desperate look, speaking in a hushed tone so Sanji wouldn't hear.

She chuckled, barely cracking a smile, and peeled her eyes off of the map she was studying.

"You know half of it is because of you, right?"

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and scoffed.

"Me? What, they didn't want me here on the crew?..." You asked, slightly sad and completely misunderstanding what the crewmate meant.

Nami rolled her eyes, as if the answer was right in front of you and you refused to see it.

"Oh Y/N, they want you alright... The issue is that the both of them want you in their room with them. And not many clothes in between, if you catch me." She explained further, raising her eyebrows as she spoke in a suggestive tone.

Your face became hot and you let out a nervous chuckle.

"What?... You're seeing things, Nami. Sanji flirts with everyone and Zoro flirts with no one. How would you even notice?"

"Oh trust me, it's noticeable. Zoro actually talks to you like a normal person and he always keeps an eye on you when we're fighting. And Sanji... the way he looks at you is completely different than anything I've seen before, I don't even know how to describe it."

"If you say so..." You say in disbelief, turning back to your book as Nami sighed.

You couldn't focus on your reading, however. Your head was full of thoughts, scenarios and 'what ifs?'. Wondering how Sanji looked at you really, how would it be to date Zoro, and, if it actually came down to it, who would you choose and how would you even do it...

On one hand, Sanji was a big sweetheart, he was dedicated and you were sure the man would do anything in his power to make you happy, but he was quite clingy and desperate. On the other hand, Zoro would go above and beyond to keep you out of harms way and to keep you by his side, but he could be quite cold and monotone...

Dinner time came and went and you were particularly mindful of the two men and how they interacted with you. And, to your surprise, you actually caught on to some things you had missed before... The both of them would sometimes steal shy glances at you, they'd make sure to brush their hand against yours when passing something around the table, they'd always jump in and ask for your opinion on a matter being discussed... You wondered if Nami was actually right... And if so, how had you missed it for so long? How were you so oblivious?...

When lights went out in the ship and you could hear Luffy's snores, you were still awake - shifting, tossing and turning in bed. Suddenly the pillow was too hot, the sheets were too stuffy and the matress was too tough.

What now? What were you supposed to do with the information? Make a move? A decision?

The day had been spent with questions roaming around in your head and even when you tried to sleep, the interrogations allowed you no rest - in the back of your mind you wished Nami hadn't told you anything...

"Fuck!" You groaned, tugging at your own hair.

You stood up, the wooden floor creaking under your feet, and decided that a cup of whatever Zoro kept in the kitchen would do the trick and lay you to sleep. You had undressed completely, hoping to release yourself from the suffocating feeling of the sheets, but you decided against going naked to the kitchen and picked up the night gown you had thrown on the ground not long ago.

The pink nightgown was made of silk, with baby pink lace appliques on the bottom and on the neckline. Honestly, it left very little to the imagination - it sat just below your asscheeks, letting them peek out when you walked, and the silk perfectly outlined your hardened nipples - but it was better than being naked, and you were too tired to care.

To your surprise, the kitchen light was on. You opened the door slightly to find Sanji playing around with some ingredients. The cook was often flirty or goofy, but his serious and concentrated face was... mesmerizing. That was the only possible word to describe it. His already big, blue eyes seemed to get bigger and shine brighter. The man's jaw was clenched in pure focus and the way he'd flip his fringe out of his face from time to time was absolutely adorable. You had never seen this façade of his, and it was interesting, hot, even.

You leaned against the doorframe as you watched him intently, completely forgetting about your thirst and need for alcohol.

When you saw him carefully place one last element with the tweezers and stand back with a proud smile on his face staring at his creation, you giggled.

The sound made the cook jump, placing a hand over his heart. His visible eye was widened as he stared at you. When Sanji realized who it was, he sighed and calmed down.

"Are you trying to kill me, pretty?" The man asked with a smile, steadying himself by placing his hands on the counter in front of him.

You step inside, closer to him, and as you do he isn't able to peel his eyes off of your exposed thighs, the way your tits bounce under the thin fabric, or the way your nipples are hard and visible.

"Sorry chef, didn't want to disturb you..." You apologised with a smile.

Sanji observed as you walked over to the fridge, each step giving him a teasing peek of your ass.

"It's alright darling, you never do disturb me." The cook managed to blurt out between thoughts of bending you over every surface and fucking you.

You take out a nameless bottle that belonged to Zoro and pour yourself a cup.

Sanji furrowed his brows, looking at the cup.

"Something's wrong, beautiful? It's usually not a good sign when people drink alone at..." the man pauses, looking at the clock "4am."

You were more than used to Sanji's nicknames, but today they seemed to mean something else. The little pet names along with his deep voice and accent made something inside your stomach twist and turn.

"I'm okay just... can't sleep. Figured some of this would do the trick since Zoro is always sleeping." You said with a chuckle.

Sanji tried to hide it, but you noticed how his smile faltered a little and how his jaw tightened ever so slightly at the mention of his apparent foe.

"Mosshead does sleep a lot." The cook agreed in a mumble.

"Why do you bicker so much?" You asked as you brought the cup up to your lips.

You leaned your side against the counter and Sanji's eyes followed the curve of your hip.

"Let's just say we have common interests." The man cheekily replied, thinking he was being enigmatic and wasn't giving away too much.

And usually you wouldn't have understood what he meant, had Nami not given you that beautiful, important piece of information that afternoon.

You chuckled and set the cup down on the counter next to you. You licked your lips as you stepped closer to the man. His body tensed slightly, but he didn't move away.

"So it's true..." You mumbled, looking at him,

"What's true, gorgeous?" He asked, hoping his blush would go unnoticed (it did not).

Your caressed his cheek with your hand and the cook couldn't help but lean into your touch.

"Nami told me something today..." Sanji placed his hand on top of yours, caressing it with his thumb, as you stepped even closer, your chests almost touching "She said that you and Zoro fight so much because you both wanted me... is this true?"

Sanji's heart was beating out of his chest and his face was on fire. The man cleared his throat, in the best attempt of not giving away his nervousness (and the overwhelming sense of lust your simple touch gave him).

"There might be a little truth to that, princess..." He said lowly, his eyes shifting between your lips and your eyes.

"I guess I should make a choice now, shouldn't I..." You said, not really asking a question, but debating with yourself.

You spent some time in a tense silence - not a word was exchanged, and not a breath was heard.

He then watched as your tits and thighs jiggled when you jumped to sit on the counter. Your slightly separated legs gave him a beautiful view of your inner thighs and he swore he could see your panties. Sanji was salivating like a dog at the sight of your body and he wanted nothing more than for you to suffocate him and ride his face, yet he awaited your response.

"What's the choice gonna be, sweetheart?" Sanji asked, as he took your stance as an invitation for him to get closer and place his hands on your thighs.

The cook tilted his head to the side every so slightly, your breaths mixing in front of you.

You gripped his shirt and pulled him closer to you, catching his lips in a passionate, animalistic kiss. You could feel his need and desperation in the exchange, which was to be expected from someone who had apparently waited so long to do this to you. What you didn't expect was the equal need you felt within yourself - you too were desperate to feel him, desperate for his touch.

Sanji definitely wasn't the quiet type - the cook wanted you to know how good you made him feel, especially when you rolled your hips against his and he felt your pussy against his hardened cock.

The man shamelessly moaned and groaned into the kiss, gripping your thighs harshly, pulling your crotch as close as possible to his.

When you pulled away from him, breathless, your lips were red and swollen.

Sanji's eyes sparkled when looking at you, and that's when you understood that you had him wrapped around your finger.

Your hand reached behind his head and, at first, you caressed his hair. But after a second you gripped his hair in your fist and gave it an experimental tug. Sanji's brows furrowed slightly and a small moan escaped past his lips.

"You like that kind of stuff?" You asked with a lustful expression.

Sanji looked away, shy and embarrassed, but gave you a small nod.

Seeing the man that oozed with confidence in each step he took crumble in front of you and become shy awoke something inside of you - you wanted to ruin him and his pretty face.

"I wanna ride your face."

Your eyes widened as well as the cook's, as you thought of that, but didn't mean to say it out loud. Before you could apologise for being too forward with your words, Sanji kissed you, a deep yet short kiss.

"I-I want that." His eyes were half lidded from lust and embarrassment, as he confessed that.

You climbed down from the counter and grabbed his hand. As you opened the door, you bent over slightly to take a peek at the hallway making sure you were alone. As you did so, your nightgown rode up your body, revealing more of your ass. Sanji couldn't help but to run his fingertips from your thighs up to your asscheeks.

"I really wanna fuck this pretty ass of yours, Y/N..." The man admitted, slapping each of your cheeks.

You turned around and gripped his collar with one hand, bringing his face closer to yours.

"I call the shots here, pretty boy, okay?" You asked soflty and pecked his lips when he agreed to follow your lead.

You grabbed his hand once more and sneakily brought him to your room, locking the door behind you. Sanji's ears perked at the sound of the lock - it made him excited, as if what you were doing was a forbidden little secret not to be found.

Sanji sat on the bed, like an animal awaiting for his owner's instructions. The cook groaned and threw his head back as he saw you dispose of your panties, giving the quickest yet sweetest view of your pussy.

You walked over to him and straddled his lap, placing your wet pussy right on top of his painfully hard cock, as you captured his lips in yet another violent kiss.

As your tongues fought and teeth clashed, your hands sneaked onto his chest and pushed him down onto the matress, never breaking the kiss, so he'd be laying down and you'd be on top of him.

Sanjis hands roamed freely on your body, mostly sticking to grabbing your ass and thighs, sneakily feeling how wet you were with the tips of your fingers.

When you pulled his hands off of his body and began lifting yourself up, Sanji felt a shiver run down his spine out of excitement, and he watched as you straddled his head, each thigh on each side, giving him a perfect view of your pussy. His eyebrows furrowed and he moaned at the sight - the man was sure he was going to cum from looking at it alone.

You hovered over his face, making sure he could reach your pussy.

"Oh no princess, no hovering."

Before you complain, Sanji's hands gripped your ass and forced your pussy down onto his face. You instantly let out a mewl and gripped his hair as your hips moved to an almost rhytmic pace.

Sanji moaned from your sweet taste and from the not-so-subtle hair tugs. His mouth ate you out like he was a professional and a starving man.

"S-shit Sanji- keep this up and I won't last much longer..." You said, breathlessly, earning only a moan in return.

The vibrations and the small sucking and biting Sanji sneaked in while eating you out drove you insane, and he knew to keep doing it from the way you moaned louder and gripped his hair tighter.

Your hips' rhytm sped up and you could feel your orgasm coming- it was too good for you to be able to last longer. Just as it was about to hit you, however, you wondered how good his cock would fuck you compared to the efficiency of his tongue and pulled yourself off of him. Your thighs were weak after almost cumming, but you managed to pull yourself off.

Sanji's face was glistening, no doubt a mix of your juices and his spit, and he watched through lustful eyes as you sat on his clothed cock once more and wrapped your hand arounnd his neck, bringing his face closer to yours.

You kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue, while your hands unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off of him. You then kissed Sanji's neck and down his torso, feeling his muscles tense under the hand that trailed down his body.

You kneeled between his legs and slowly removed his pants and underwear. The cook's cock slapped against his abdomen, his tip red and swollen, leaking with precum. You could swear you were salivating at the sight of his cock.

Just as your hand gripped the base of his dick and your mouth opened, Sanji's hand grabbed your chin, makikng you look up at him.

"Please... Please don't." The man pleaded breathlessly "I'm- I'm gonna cum in your mouth the second you suck me off princess..."

You chuckled and bit your lip, rising up to your feet as you removed the skimpy nightgown.

"Fuck..." Sanji groaned at the sight of your body.

You allowed him to caress your hips while you sat back on his lap, straddling the man as his cock pressed against your folds.

You pressed your lips against his, slowly rising up and grabbing his cock. You placed it on your entrance and sank down on his dick gently. Sanji's mouth fell agape mid-kiss, and his eyes didn't open but his brows furrowed and a desperate moan left his lips.

The way his hands gripped your ass reminded you that he was still touching you, and that couldn't be - you liked to see him desperate and begging.

"From now on," You said, removing his hands from your body and gripping his shoulders for stability "no touching me. I want to fuck myself on you, I want to use you."

Sanji didn't care who heard, he only wanted you to know how good you made him feel. As he heard that sentence, the man groaned loudly and gripped the sheets - a mix of frustration from not being able to touch you, and pleasure, from the way his cock disappeared inside of you.

"You feel so fucking good." Sanji admitted, mouth agape and eyes fixated on the way your tits bounced in front of his face.

"S-shit- You fill me up so well Sanji."

The way you moaned his name was music to his ears. Sanji's moans and groans grew louder and more lewd, as his knuckles turned white from the force with which he gripped the sheets.

"Y/N I- I can't hold on much longer-"

Luckily for him, you had previously edged yourself on his mouth, so you were on the same page on that front.

"Yeah baby? Like it when I fuck myself on you? When I use you?" You whispered in his ear.

"I love it when you use me- shit! Please, please let me touch you, please!" He begged in the hottest whine you'd ever heard.

"T-touch me, baby-"

Sanji's hands immediately flew to your ass, grabbing and slapping it as his lips bit and sucked on your neck. Your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders as you felt your climax approach once more.

When you felt his cock twitch inside of you, you grabbed his face and smashed your lips together, effectively shutting up your cries and moans as he filled you up and you came on his cock.

You rode out your orgasm, feeling his dick soften inside of you. You pulled away from his lips as the cook helped you lift yourself up and off his cock. You both watched in awe as his cum dripped from your cunt.

You sighed and buried your face on the crook of his neck.

"You don't get to act shy now, gorgeous." Sanji joked, one hand caressing the small of your back and the other caressing your hair.

"I'm not shy! Just... tired..." You lied, not knowing that you even had it in you to do what you had done to Sanji just then.

Sanji picked you up and laid you on the bed slowly, as if you'd break if he was too rough with you, and spooned you from behind.

"Let's rest then, beautiful..."

You turned around to face him.

"Hey... Sanji?"

The man peeled his eyes open, and a small 'hm?' left his lips.

"Do you think they heard us?" You asked in a whisper, as if telling him a secret, earning a tired smile from him.

"They definitely did, princess."

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girlkisser13 · 28 days

Text

dating leo valdez would include

• this boy practically has permanent heart eyes for you — it's insane.

• i think we all know this, but leo's definitely not one to hide his admiration for you. he's basically in a constant state of awe whenever you're around. he thinks you're the prettiest person on earth, and he's LOUD about it. like, before you started dating he definitely looked up one of those cringe pick up line lists at least once in hopes of impressing you. (they didn't work.)

• howeverrr, leo's affection for you runs deeper than just your physical appearance. you're not just eye candy to him. he values your inner qualities just as much as your outer ones, and he's always reminding you about it!!

• he's also your portable heater fr. leo keeps you warm by holding you close. it's particularly convenient when you're nestled on his lap or resting against his chest.

• this man can COOK. he mainly cooks food from his heritage because it's a way for him to connect to his roots, but if you ask him to make a particular dish for you, he'll do it, no questions asked. it's a common sight to catch a glimpse of him in the kitchen, diligently chopping ingredients and following the recipe to your favorite dish, getting himself completely covered in smoke and steam by the end of the process, but the result is always delicious so neither of you care.

• he'll often call you into the kitchen to taste-test his newest recipe, shoving the dish in your face and urging you to try it like, "here babe, taste it!!" with the brightest smile as he eagerly waits for your feedback. he values your opinions a lot!

• he's also super perceptive when it comes to your food preferences, knowing exactly what dishes you love and those that you don't care for. he'll transfer food from his plate to yours because he wants you to enjoy your meal, and he'll and also happily devour any food that you dislike, while simultaneously insulting your taste LMAOO.

• like one time you went to the bathroom, came back, and saw that the amount of your favorite food on your plate just doubled.

• him calling you petnames in spanish >>> omg. his favorites are "mi amor" (my love), "cariño" (darling), and "corazón" (sweetheart). he usually rotates between those three and it never fails to bring a blush to your cheeks because like, hello??? how could it not??? he's always quick to notice your reaction and can't resist teasing you, playful remarks leaving his lips like, "a little flustered now are we, mi amor?"

• no matter how long you've been together, leo still flirts with you like he's seeing you for the first time. he'll brace himself against the nearest doorframe and unleash the cheesiest pick-up line known to mankind. despite their predictability, you play along. the game ends when he asks you on a "first date."

• leo spends a lot of time tinkering in his workshop, so whenever boredom sets in, (or if he's just thinking of you) he likes to put his creativity to use by making various small creations with you on his mind. these items range from keychains, to mini jewelry boxes, and even small flowers carved out of metal scraps. (you now have enough to make a bouquet.) your nightstand and shelves are absolutely littered with his handiwork, and you take pride in owning each one of them. <33

• leo's the type of guy that twirls you around while hugging. there's something incredibly spontaneous and thrilling about the experience— just when you think he's only reaching for your hand, he suddenly lifts you off the ground and spins you around, generating a moment of pure joy before gently setting you down once again, and leaning back in for a normal hug.

• leo loovvees taking photos of you. (let's pretend demigods are allowed to use phones) like, he'll snap away until his phone's storage is filled to the absolute BRIM. if you ask him to delete any unflattering ones, he'll do so but while fervently defending his collection, insisting that he takes so many pictures of you not because he's searching for the perfect shot, but because you look breathtaking from every angle. <33

• in addition to his digital collection, leo also has a cherished polaroid board covered in various pictures, but the majority of them feature you.

• leo looovveess kissing your cheek with a pronounced "mmMWAH!" sound. onces he's done, he'll turn his head slightly and look at you expectantly, indicating that he wants you to do the same to him.

• he was probably the first one to say "i love you." in the relationship. he might've said it rather quickly because he was always sure about his feelings towards you even before your relationship had officially started, but he never pressured you to reciprocate. he was willing to wait for you to come to your own conclusion.

• but until then, leo never stopped expressing his love for you. every morning and every night, he would whisper a giddy "i love you, mi amor" before rushing off to wherever he needed to be.

• once you do finally say the words back to him though, he's grinning like an idiot for an entire two weeks. he'd often repeat his feelings for you, almost annoyingly, just to hear you say those four words he cherished the most back, 'i love you too!"

• he's so whipped for you it's not even funny.

#heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo tv show #pjo series #hoo series #hoo fandom #pjo fandom #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #percy jackson and the olympians

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sweetiecutie · 8 months

Note

AHHHH I NEED MORE KEEGAN IN MY LIFE PLEASE could you write some Keegan h/c?

Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: just general stuff, language, bad driving, NSFW under the cut, mdni, spit kink

A/n: it’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing😌 Keegan is such a bad bitch, he deserves more attention

• Starting off - I’m pretty sure that Keegan would want a civil partner; someone not related to military and actually as far as possible from all the war stuff. First of all, it’s to avoid having constant fear of losing you on the battlefield - it’s a highly dangerous job, sometimes coming out alive is not only a matter of skills, but also pure luck. Secondly, the amount of trauma and emotional damage Keegan carries is more than enough for two people - he needs someone grounded and, well, more stable, someone who will be able to give him a piece of blissful domestic life, faraway from all the constant war Keegan lives in.

• Always referring to you as his girl in conversations with other people or when introducing you to someone new. “That’s Y/n - my girl” “That’s for my girl, she likes pink” “My girl doesn’t like the smell of smoke so I’m trying to quit”. It’s also a way of showing everyone that you’re his - letting others know from the very beginning that you’re taken and no one better try anything with his precious girl, otherwise a few bones will be broken.

• Gives off annoying older brother vibes. He’ll always playfully nag you, and it’ll only become worse once you start dating. Placing stuff on the highest shelves just to watch you struggle to get it yourself, drawing some silly doodles on your notes, messing with your makeup that you spent nearly an hour organising neatly, punching your favourite plushie just to get a rise out of you. And of course, constant bickering! “Keegan, can you pass me that book?” - “Fuck no” *passes the book*. “Keegan, I want some sushi” - “Well shit, what am I supposed to do about that?” *already placing an order online on his phone*

• Another amazing driver here. Keegan has horrible road rage, hitting the car horn aggressively, yelling most intricate insults out the window at whoever that happened to piss him off. I also have a feeling the he drives really fast and reckless, teasing you whenever you ask him to go slower - so you better always buckle up. And yes, he definitely got in a few minor accidents - scratching or leaving indents on other car’s bumper.

NSFW here~*•.

• And while we’re speaking of driving - just imagine giving him a sloppy noisy head while being stuck in a long traffic. Keegan is seething with hot anger, rolling his eyes on other drivers, lack of nicotine adding to his distress. And here’s a sweet lovely you trying your best to make Keegan feel at least a tad bit better, soothing his booming annoyance with your silky tongue swirling around throbbing shaft, cheeks hollowing to provide stronger suction, allowing Keegan to set the pace. And it seemed to work wonders on him - his nape against the headrest of driver’s seat, pretty blue eyes half lidded, staring at the car ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, feeling your throat wrapped around his cock.

• Oh, how nasty he is. Biggest spit kink ever - ordering to open your mouth nice and wide just to spit a thick globe of saliva in it, then closing your jaw and making sure that you swallow it. Will gladly let you spit in his mouth as well; loooves messy wet kisses - either during make out session or after you gave him head, slurping up your spit mixed with his cum from your lips and chin. Very often uses his spit as lube, or telling you to spit in his palm before spreading it all over his needy leaking cock, plunging it deep inside your warmth.

• A horndog. You never have to ask him if he’s in a right mood because yes, he is. He is always in the mood to fuck. Now, he always lets you know that it’s totally fine if you say no - Keegan will never pressure or guilt trap you into any kind of intimacy, no means no. You can always cuddle up together or do something fun like cooking, dancing or simply dorking around. But if your sexdrive happens to match his - oh boy, I’m sorry for your neighbours. Let’s just say - there’s hardly any surface in your flat that you didn’t fuck on.

• It’s nothing new, but this mug is cocky. Like, I don’t think he has unimaginably big dick - not small for sure, but not huge as well; but the way he works with it - a chef’s kiss. Keegan just knows how to angle his hips to massage that one spot within you, how you like your clit to be played with, how he quickly discovers and memorises all the sweetest spots of your body. “Aw, cumming already? I barely touched you, does it feel this good?” - he’d purr, curling three of his long fingers inside of your needy cunny, thumb flicking swollen clit while hot mouth sucks on perked up nipples.

• Daddy kink? Daddy kink😏

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love<3

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pedgito · 2 years

Note

how about steddie dick measuring contest but reader is the judge? if it leads to smut that’s okay but i know you’ll make it good regardless lol

author’s note: the premise is there i promise, i just used this as an excuse to write threesome smut because it started out as a funny idea and then my brain just melted at the thought of it

cw: 18+ (minors dni), heavy voyeurism, threesomes, unrequited crushes (steddie), established relationships with reader, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), mentioned virgin!eddie, steve is overly confident, eddie is a sweetheart, if i missed anything lmk

word count: 4k

It started after Steve and Eddie found out that you had been sleeping with both of them—there was never any exclusivity in your relationship, and the sex with Eddie had started innocently, taking his virginity from him on his graduation night.

Every time with Eddie was something new. He was eager to try things, learn, and it made for some of the more enjoyable sex you’ve ever had. He only lacked slightly in skill, still fumbling around most of the time and getting upset when he couldn’t make you come as easily as he’d hoped.

For Steve, it was after a long-drawn out conversation about how he couldn’t find the right women, the sex was lacking, and he just wanted something—it didn’t even have to be something either of you committed to fully, as long as you two were having fun with it. Steve still went on dates every now and then, had the occasional hookup, but he always ended up back at your place most weekends using the opportunity to vent about his hardships in trying to find a partner—most of it fell on deaf ears, because as much as Steve was a great partner, he also talked about himself way too much.

He was full of himself, to be blunt—which is why this had started the conversation you were being forced to listen to currently, both of them settled on either side of the couch. You were smushed in the center, feet propped up on the table in Eddie’s living room, hands covering your face as you rested your head against the back of the couch and let out an audible groan.

“Okay but,” Eddie begins, another tumultuous conversation that was bound to go one forever if you didn’t put an end to it, “you’ve seen both of our dicks, you be the judge.”

Steve had found a pair of your underwear on Eddie’s floor a couple weeks prior, because of course he knew they were yours. He held them up accusingly, both you and Eddie sharing an awkward glance.

You really had no choice but to come clean. Thankfully, they both took it well—actually, they didn’t have any problem with it, and that’s what you couldn’t wrap your brain around. Not at first, at least.

“It’s okay,” Steve comforts, squeezing your shoulder, “be honest, Eddie can take it.”

You always hung out as a group now, never separately—and you couldn’t ignore the obvious tension that has festered. Truthfully, it felt like an attack on you. They talked about you when you weren’t around, you knew that much, having walked in on them in the middle of a particularly heated conversation about what made you come the quickest. Eddie knew it was oral, but Steve swore you faked it half the time just so he’d skip to the sex, always gawking about how good his dick felt—how big it was.

And obviously, it had boosted his ego through the fucking roof.

“Oh, fuck you.” Eddie insults lightly, leaning in to whisper against your ear, “Come on, sweetheart—let him have it.”

“Oh my god, who cares?” You ask redundantly, exasperated at the topic and almost shouting it out. “The average is—what, five? I’m pretty confident you’re both over that so what does it matter?”

“No way Munson is packing over five.” Steve nags, pointing lazily at the long haired, wide eyed boy at your side. Eddie rolls his eyes, scoffing at the comment.

“We get it, King Steve’s got a big dick.” Eddie mocks, throwing his hands up.

You snort at the nickname, “Don’t call him that.” You tell Eddie, watching as Steve’s face falls slightly. “See—he’s too confident.”

“Why are you avoiding the question then?” Steve counters, growing increasingly irritated. It’s not directed toward you, or at Eddie even, he just wants to get to the bottom of it.

“Why are you so worried that I might say it’s Eddie?” You tease, hearing Eddie howl a laugh behind you.

“Is it?” Eddie asks after he regains his composure, “I don’t even care at this point, I just need to rub it in Steve’s face.”

“Fuck this,” Steve says in a clipped tone, “Whip it out, Munson.”

“Excuse you?” Eddie asks in a subtle shock, eyes follow Steve as he stands from the couch. “Take me to fuckin’ dinner first, Steve.”

“I need to pee.” You say quickly, making a weak excuse to escape to the bathroom.

Steve holds up his hand, “No, no—you have to judge.”

You stare up at him with comically wide eyes, growling slightly under your breath when he doesn’t relent, sinking back down on the couch.

“Fine.” You agree, “Hurry up.”

Eddie flicks his gaze between you and Steve before finally settling on you, “Do you—are we actually entertaining this?”

“To be fair, I really don’t know.”

It was the honest truth.

Steve fiddles with his pants as Eddie moves a little slower, more hesitant to expose himself. Steve grew up in sports, he was used to changing in front of other guys, nudity around other’s wasn’t foreign to him—Eddie was obviously less willing, having grown up under constant scrutiny and bullying there was valid reasoning on why he didn’t want to. You gave him a look, touching his wrist as he reached for his belt.

“Steve, I don’t think this is a good idea.” You tell him as he lingers behind you, eyes still locked on Eddie as you turn to him, but something in Eddie’s face changes, a subtle smirk growing.

“Gotta shut him up somehow, right?” Eddie asks.

And they’re both on the edge of shoving their pants down, gaze noticeably locked on one another before you’re panicking, arms thrown up in an attempt to halt whatever was about to commence.

“Wait, fuck—“ You sigh loudly, slumping as they both look at you, “this isn’t fair.”

The silence is telling, both boys completely at your command.

It’s almost impossible not to have fun with this, especially if they weren’t about to let up over the whole ordeal.

“I mean—Steve is definitely a shower,” You admit, “but I don’t think it’s fair unless both of you are—“

“Hard?” Eddie finishes for you, and Steve catches on immediately, that mischievous grin matches yours.

“If you wanted a kiss so bad all you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” Steve replies with that puff in his chest, always so sure of himself.

You giggle softly, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek as you lean away from Steve’s reach, looking over at Eddie and back at him.

“Not me, Steve.” You reply sickeningly sweet, eye flicking up knowingly toward Eddie, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

You weren’t oblivious to the interest that Steve tried so desperately to hide any time he was around Eddie—the teasing, the lingering looks, the constant need to piss him off just to keep him talking. Eddie was just as bad, constantly feeding into whatever game Steve was playing at. They had been friends before, somewhat—but whatever this had become, it brought you all closer. Though, it wasn’t your fault that they were so inherently stubborn and avoiding the fact that they, for a lack of better words, wanted to fuck each other.

And maybe that was a strong way to put it, but they almost seemed scared—scared that it would make you feel a certain way. They were both always so careful with your feelings, two of your closest friends, but your annoyance was at it’s peak and you really couldn’t take it any longer.

“Each other.” You say simply, wagging your finger between the two. “But, of course, drop the pants first.”

“That’s not funny.” Steve retorts.

Eddie shrugs, “I mean, I don’t care.”

You shrug at Steve, pointing at Eddie. “You heard him—get to smoochin’, Steve.”

Eddie laughs at Steve’s shy hesitation, yanking gently at the open hem of his pants, fingers grazing his half-hard cock.

“Come on, big boy,” Eddie teases, smirk pulling at his features, “all talk and no game—seriously?”

That’s what does Steve in, never one to back down from a challenge. He cradles Eddie’s head the same way he does yours, fingers disappearing into his long curls as he pushes toward him, slotting his top lip between Eddie’s, sucking at his bottom gingerly.

It’s just a taste—something to entice Eddie, but it doesn’t take much. He pulls back with a breath, locking eyes with him for a brief moment before diving in fully, tongue splitting Eddie’s mouth open without hesitation, hands idly working at his jeans to shove them down, underwear following as he steps out of them in a fumble, the fabric getting caught at his feet. Eddie takes a little longer, belt snapping in the air as he yanks it from the loops and strips himself too.

“Shirts too?” Steve asks, not directed at any particular person, but you answer seeing as how Eddie is so clearly distracted by Steve’s lips, his neck, the soft pattern of freckles that trace his face.

“Yeah, yeah—“ Your own breath is caught in your throat, despite how good you are at keeping your composure.

This was definitely meant as a joke, maybe a quick peck or two before you’d put an end to their misery—but that wasn’t the case at all.

You felt like you were intruding, but your body was frozen in place and part of you forget the entire cause of this, glancing down at their slowly hardening cocks, shirts being simultaneously ripped over their heads before they fell right back into, Eddie’s hands squeezing along the side of Steve’s neck as he kissed him, letting out the soft sated noises he makes when he’s enjoying himself, eyes closed shut.

Steve’s hand grazes carefully over his own cock, his fingers barely grazing the head of Eddie’s as he squeezes at the base, bringing his fingers up to drag over the tip, openly groaning into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie chuckles, biting playfully at Steve’s lip, emitting a strained grunt from his chest—and then he’s speaking to you, startling you out of the trance you’ve fallen into, watching two of your best friend’s going after each other so eagerly.

“What’s the verdict, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, pulling away slightly to look at you. He sees the gape in your mouth, the glaze over your eyes and he can’t help it, “Oh shit—you’re into this, aren’t you?”

Steve turns his attention too, “Is that even a question? Look at her.”

“Someone had to force you two to stop ignoring what was obviously there,” You defend, “—I’m not gonna choose, by the way.”

“Oh, come on.” Steve complains, pulling away from Eddie briefly—he’s so unashamed in his nudity that he turns to you, “seriously—what’s it gonna take?”

You shrug stubbornly.

Steve glances over at Eddie, whose pupils are blown to hell with arousal.

“Your bed big enough for three, Munson?” Steve asks, sending you a vivacious smile that makes you blush, shrinking away from him slightly. “We’re gonna settle this.”

“Uh, yeah—should be.” Eddie nods, “But if we’re about to settle who’s better in bed, that’s a given.”

It was definitely not a given—because as much as you’d like to go for one or the other, they were making it impossible.

“Is this too much?” Eddie asks, shifting between your legs as he stretches your thighs open. Steve’s settled behind you, propping you up slightly as he tilts your head up, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation toward this.

“I feel like I should be asking you two that question,” You admit, smiling softly as Steve tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb, smiling down at you, “this is my fault.”

“You good with this, Harrington?” Eddie asks idly, kissing at the inside of your thigh before nipping at the skin, causing you to squirm, gasping involuntarily.

Steve nods, making an affirming noise.

“You think you can handle both of us?” Steve asks endearingly, though it’s edged with something else

“At the same time?” You ask incredulously, “No fuckin’ way—“

Eddie’s tongue slides through the center of your cunt, biting gently at your folds. “I don’t think that’s what he means.”

“Good to know it’s on your mind though,” Steve comments, “maybe we’ll try that next time.”

Eddie pulls away briefly, laughing into the apex of your thigh. Steve’s fingers trailing down your bare chest, over the pudge of your stomach until his fingers reach your clit, rubbing slow circles until he can feel your breath starting to quicken. Eddie dives back in soon after, his tongue dipping into your entrance, lapping up the thick juices, sounding shamefully wet already. His nose nudges Steve’s finger, the pressure it applies is fucking sinful, causing you to moan openly, a hand wrapping around Steve’s bicep for support. His eyes never leave your face, so when your eyes go searching, he’s right there waiting.

“So, here’s the plan,” Steve explains—and considering he’s a lot more experienced than both of you, it makes sense, “Eddie’s gonna fuck you first, then me—then you’ll have to make your decision, alright?”

“No promises.” You mumble, before Steve’s nudging your face back up again, eyes darkening.

“You will.” Steve decides, “Trust me.”

Eddie moves up, leaning back on his thighs as he rustles around in his drawer for the spare box of condoms—because in hindsight, there was no way he could’ve prepared for this. So, of course, he’s all out.

“Hey—it’s fine,” You assure him, hand pulling his face toward you, “I trust you—considering I’ve been on birth control for the past year I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

“You always make me wear condoms.” Steve grumbles from above, earning a light shove from you.

“Well, Eddie isn’t going around fucking other girls.” You tell him lightly—it doesn’t come off as catty, more matter of fact. Eddie laughs, closing the drawer.

“So, one point me,” Eddie says, pointing toward himself, before shoving a giant goose egg at Steve, “Harrington, zero.”

The conversation dies rather quickly as Eddie settles back down, nudging the head of his cock at your entrance, teasingly pressing it along your clit, sliding up through your folds in an effort to drive you mad—it always does, his face lighting up every time. Steve’s not watching you anymore either, eyes lingering toward Eddie, roaming the expanse of his body, his face. He’s never watched another man fuck before, despite his confidence. Steve’s had a threesomes before, though very few and far between, never like this. His sexuality wasn’t something he always openly discussed, no one ever questioned it either. And truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he even knew what it was. But, he was attracted to you—and Eddie.

Eddie pushes in slowly, face scrunching up in concentration as it always does—it’s almost like Steve wasn’t even there to him, his mouth coming down to latch onto your neck, kiss you gently, savor the sweet taste of your skin. Sex with Eddie is always slower, more sensual, and maybe you could enjoy it if Steve wasn’t snickering above you so flippantly.

“Dude,” Eddie complains, thrusts slowing as he glances up at Steve briefly before glancing down at you helplessly, “either get busy or get out.”

“Actually,” You pipe up, looking at Steve, “talk to him, Steve—god knows you never shut up when we’re fucking.”

Steve snorts softly, peering up at Eddie from underneath his lashes, smiling dangerously.

“It’s nice, yeah?” Steve inquires, eyebrows jutting up slightly in question, nodding toward you. “Probably the best you’ve had.”

Eddie laughs weakly, his thrusts increasing slightly as he pulls at your thighs, hooking them around his hips more securely. He was gawking up at Steve, leaving you to watch the show with baited breath, eyes squeezing shit every now and then when Eddie hit that particular spot inside of you.

“It’s the only,” Eddie admits, “but it’s fuckin’ perfect. Pussy’s fuckin’ perfect.”

And he’s never been a savant with words, but damn if that doesn’t send an immediate jolt of heat to your core, moaning brokenly.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Steve asks you, breaking his connection with Eddie briefly to glance down, “I’m not even kissing him and it’s driving you crazy.”

You nod dumbly, Steve’s attention flicking back toward Eddie.

“Tell me how she feels.”

Eddie scoffs lightly at that. Eddie’s always talkative during sex, but not in the same way Steve is—Steve is always about praise and making you blush after every other word, while Eddie has no ability to keep his burgeoning thoughts inside, telling you something annoying about his day or his favorite song that week; it’s all very mundane but it’s Eddie.

“Tight, fuck—“ He sighs, gripping your hip harshly as he moved his hips into you faster, face scrunching up slightly as he glared at Steve, who’s smirk hasn’t faded at all, “god, warm too. So fuckin’ warm and soft—“

You whimper desperately, finger squeezing into Steve’s forearm as Eddie thrusts into you, shoving you up Steve’s chest slightly, their own faces nudging together from the close proximity they were in.

Steve nods knowingly, his lips grazing Eddie’s plush ones, pulling back slightly when Eddie leans forward. “It’s not fair to her,” Steve says in a hushed tone, but you quickly respond with a shake of your head.

“Fuck, please,” You beg, “it’s so hot.”

They both laugh at that, forcing you to giggle despite how close you were to your own orgasm. Eddie presses his lips against Steve’s this time, initiating the kiss as he moves against you, fingers gripping you impossibly tighter as Steve’s tongue traces his bottom lip before slipping inside.

It’s messy, all spit and battling tongues as Eddie's hand struggles against the mattress to keep him upright, limbs shaking from execution and the coiling heat in his stomach, grunting into Steve’s open mouth.

“Gonna come,” Eddie whines, “fuck, I’m gonna come—“

“Come inside her.” He tells him.

It does Eddie in immediately, losing his rhythm. Steve’s quick, sneaky in his motions as his hand ghosts over your clit—the attention was never lacking, it’s the one thing you appreciated the most about him. Your orgasm hits you quick, fleeting, eyes connecting with Eddie briefly as he spills inside you, fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to leave bruises. Surely they would, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Steve rubs your arms comfortingly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as you come back down, head spinning slightly.

“Still with us?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb along the side of your cheek until you connect eyes with him, offering him a small nod. He grins, “Good, my turn.”

Eddie moves slowly, still reeling from the intensity of it all, feeling floaty as he moves to settle behind you. Steve sits up as he takes Eddie’s place in front of you, leaning back on his heels as he lifts you up into his lap, forcing a small gasp from your chest. His fingers find your cunt, rubbing through the mix of your slick and Eddie’s as he pushes it back up inside of you where it starts to spill out.

“Good girl,” He chides, “I need you to keep it all in until we’re finished.”

Steve grips the base of his cock, pushing inside you slowly as Eddie pulls your hair aside, mouthing at the line on your shoulder, your neck, lazy and gentle kisses to remind you that he’s still there.

“Oh fuck,” Steve groans, “s’not fair—you’ve been letting Munson here fuck you without a condom and deprived me of this—“

“Stipulations, Steve.” You sigh, face scrunching up as he lifts you slightly, wrapping your legs around his hips until you have no choice but to throw over the control to him.

“Can’t help that you're a whore, Harrington.” Eddie chuckles, eyes connecting briefly as removes his lips from your skin, “—tell ‘em, sweetheart. Tell Steve how fuckin’ amazing it feels to have me inside you.”

You nod in agreement, a jerky motion of your head as Steve rams into you harshly, pulling a strained whimper from your lips, adjusting your arms around his neck for purchase. Eddie pushes in impossibly closer—Steve buries his face against the other side that Eddie isn’t occupying, leaving a faint bruise in the skin before pulling away, surprisingly met with Eddie’s lips.

“So good.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper, words failing to reach you, gasping sharply at the feeling of Eddie’s fingers pressing against your clit, still reeling from the previous orgasm. You could feel it though, that deep seated ache in your belly that was lingering there, waiting. Eddie’s other hand is pulling at Steve’s neck, tongue forcing itself past his lips and devouring him on the spot—if there was one thing about Eddie, he could take your breath away with a kiss, which was evident in the way Steve could barely keep up, having seemingly met his match with Eddie.

“Fuck, it’s too—sensitive, I’m gonna—“ You moan devastingly loud, both of them breaking briefly to attend to you—not that they weren’t already doing so, but they’re lips are puffy and red from kissing each other and they can barely keep their eyes for one another.

You’ve created a monster—but, it was a necessary evil. They had been walking around each other for weeks, tiptoeing around the topic, becoming more and more territorial over you to rile the other one up, it was only a matter of time.

“Fuck, yeah—just like that, baby.” It’s the only nickname that Steve calls you that makes your stomach flutter, his voice softer than normal. Eddie leans in too, fingers still rubbing persistently at your clit as he breaths over your ear, murmuring a soft—

“Look at him,” Eddie comments quietly, “he’s a mess.”

And he was—for a brief second, you didn’t even recognize him. Steve was normally so well managed and put together that the helpless look on his face was completely unfamiliar. His head fell back lazily, pumping into you a finally few times before he’s coming with a soft grunt, letting Eddie work you through your second orgasm—it’s overwhelming, almost too much, feeling your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s thigh as you curse out a string of obscenities, chest heaving as you came down.

Eddie groans slightly, falling back on his mattress as you follow into a fit of laughter, neither of you able to calm yourself until Steve is settling by your side, staring you both down with a comical look of disbelief.

“So, do you have your answer now?” Eddie interjects beside how valiantly you’ve tried to avoid the topic. “Or, do we need to go again?”

And there’s only one real way out of it.

“Yeah,” You nod, “Me.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit.” Steve quickly recovers, flipping down beside you both, shuffling his pants back on lazily, while you and Eddie couldn’t be bothered. “That’s such a cop out.”

“Are you disagreeing with me?” You press further, the lilt in your voice coming off as a warning.

Eddie laughs softly behind you, “Don’t do it, Steve. You’ll regret it.”

And for once in his life, he doesn’t have a comeback.

“Okay, but back to the original question—“

“It’s Steve.” You admit, earning a dramatic gasp from Eddie, hand clutched over his chest. “Look, you two made me choose, you can’t be mad—“

“You could always try it out for yourself, Munson—if you have doubts.” Steve teases, leaning over you slightly to peer at Eddie, eyes raking his body.

“Mmm, but don’t get your ego up,” You warn him, waving a careful finger at him before pointing at Eddie, “Eddie’s technique is—“

“Are you saying I can’t fuck?” Steve huffs out a laugh, “After that?”

“Eddie’s just—eager.” You smile knowingly, watching as Eddie blushes a deep red, his hand covering himself indecently, the blood rushing to his cock again. “Like, really eager.”

Steve grins menacingly, “Clearly.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harring x reader #steve harrington x you #eddie munson fanfic #my writing #1kfic

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ikaroux · 2 years

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How are they with their pregnant companion? Al Haitham, Dottore, Pantalone.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Al Haitham, Dottore, Pantalone.

Next on the list: Ayato, Itto, Heizou, Cyno.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Note: For this headcanons, I assume that the reader is of age and that she is in a relationship with the genshin boy for a while! For Al Haitham, I don't know the character yet, I haven't met him during the main quest. I wrote him as I imagined him in a serious love relationship, like for Dottore and Pantalone. For Dottore, in the manga he is portrayed as a cruel man, who does not hesitate to play with the lives of others. I like the idea that once in love, he can completely change. You are beginning to know me, I never write anything cruel or violent. Dottore, Pantalone and even Pierrot (if I were to write about him one day), I would always soften the characters in their relationship, so don't be surprised to see no torture, insult or abuse.

PS: I'm trying to do a rewrite of part 1 with Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya etc… I would like to add more details to what I already wrote…

masterlist

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Vomiting, fatigue, late menstruation. Alhaitham would quickly notice the signs of your pregnancy. And, by the archons, if his deduction proved correct, you would make him the happiest man in Teyvat.

He would not tell you immediately, preferring to take you to a doctor first. Nevertheless, he won't be able to hide that sweet little smile every time he meets your eyes. No matter how much you ask him why he looks so cheerful, Alhaitham will just tell you in a calm voice, "You'll know soon enough."

When the doctor tells you the good news, Alhaitham will warmly welcome you into his arms, tenderly kissing the top of your head. "You knew, didn't you?" You tell him against his chest, which vibrates against your ear from his laughter. "Why didn't you tell me?" He gently pulled you away from his embrace to look into your eyes. "I didn't want to see your face devastated if it turned out I was wrong." His lips met your forehead. "But I'm glad you weren't."

Alhaitham was a scholar, a man more often occupied with furthering his knowledge than frolicking about the city. He spent most of his time reading, writing, studying or observing and, of course, improving his fighting skills. He was a man with a cold and distant appearance, often considered an unpleasant person, but as soon as you appeared in his field of vision, his expression would soften and he would stop all his activities to take care of you, and even more so since you were pregnant. The people of Sumeru as well as the scholars who knew the man well will be amazed at the change in his personality as soon as you entered the same room.

The man would personally take care of your meals, preparing each dish with care to ensure your child's good health as well as yours. He would select every ingredient and buy it for you. He would ask (or order, depending on your point of view…) Tignari and Collei to bring him the best fruits of the forest. Cyno would also be part of the game, whether willingly or not…

Alhaitham's hands are perfect for massages. He will use on you essential oils made in Sumeru to massage every painful part of your body. He will also apply it to the areas where your skin is more susceptible to stretch marks.

When he was not with Lady Kusanali, you will find him at the academy, sitting at his desk with several scrolls spread out in front of him. He has always allowed you to visit him, but where once his focus was on his work, since your pregnancy, Alhaitham now wants you close to him, pulling your body into his lap, one of his hands resting comfortably on your now beautifully rounded belly. His lips gently kiss your cheek before one of his hands picks up his quill between his fingers to continue taking notes. The gentle rubbing of his hand on your belly, the sound of the pen against the paper, and the peaceful breathing of your lover will accompany you into a pleasant sleep.

Alhaitham could sometimes see your face light up with intense joy when you felt the baby move. Curious, he would try to understand your feelings by touching your belly. The first time, his child had stopped moving as soon as he put his hand on you. "Sigh why do I feel like this child will be a strong head"; "Because he will be stubborn like his father!" You laughed and reassured him as best you could, one hand tenderly caressing his cheek before kissing him.

Alhaitham accompanied you on every visit to the midwife. She advised both of you to try haptonomy in preparation for the birth. It was a therapy that allowed you to create an emotional bond with your baby. She was to teach you both how to communicate with the baby. Touching was a fundamental thing and your lover did a great job of that, applying gentle pressure to feel the baby move.

With each touch, Alhaitham could feel his child respond as he "played" and stroked your belly, your hands gently placed over his to accompany him. He would often talk to your belly, his deep voice seeming to soothe your baby.

Sometimes he would stop whatever he was doing just to look at you. The more your belly rounded, the more he felt moved… You were so beautiful, standing there in front of that flowerpot you were watering, one hand on your belly while singing a nursery rhyme to your child. You were so precious to him, a jewel in his life.

Since your pregnancy, you had been moody. The midwife had already explained to him that this was normal, so Alhaitham did not worry about it. However, he stayed by your side through every bad patch that came your way, calming your fears. He knew you would be a good mother, and he told you so whenever you were in doubt.

At night, Alhaitham already had a habit of holding you close to him while you slept. Now that you were pregnant, every time you lay down next to him, he would massage your belly and your aching chest until you fell asleep. He will look at your sleeping form for a long time, his hand still on your belly before tenderly kissing your forehead, whispering a warm "I love you". He will fall asleep against you, his hand continuously brooding over your baby, who seemed to react to his father's warmth by giving gentle strokes against you.

Alhaitham was always lovingly tender with you. Throughout your pregnancy, he would bend over backwards for you, taking care of everything in preparation for the birth. He was the one who took care of decorating the baby's room, as well as everything administrative. He wanted to remove all the unnecessary stress from your head and take on his future role as a father.

Alhaitham will be an exemplary father, always encouraging his child to excel, to believe in his abilities. He will show great patience in his education.

NSFW Bonus:

Pregnancy hormones made you insatiable. The first time you begged your husband to take you, he was lying comfortably on your marital bed with a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. Without him having time to react, you straddled him, gently pulling what was in his hands away to focus his attention on you. He knew immediately what you wanted and was neither surprised nor shocked. His lips met the sensitive skin of your neck as his hands came to rest on your waist to help you sway against his hips. You could quickly feel his sex rising up under his clothes as you rubbed languidly against him. You were driving him crazy. Crazy with desire, and your pregnancy wasn't helping.

Alhaitham would always go easy on you, he didn't want to bully you or hurt the little being in your belly. He would undress you calmly, his lips worshipping the parts of your body that were offered to him. By dint of rubbing against him, you were wet enough to take him inside you, nevertheless, Alhaitham preferred to prepare you for him, thrusting a finger then two between your lower lips, making you moan at the sudden invasion. As he pumped his fingers inside you, you clung to his clothes, begging him to remove them and penetrate you as deeply as possible. He couldn't resist you, but still decided to make you cum once on his fingers before tearing off his clothes and giving you the object of your desires.

As soon as he got what he wanted from you, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you panting and sweaty. He slid his tunic over his head as quickly as possible before opening his pants to pull out his manhood already soaked by his own excitement. His heart pounded against his chest as he helped you stand over him. You straddled him in one go, without giving each other time to adjust. Grunts filled the room. Both of you had red cheeks as you slowly rolled your hips against him, whispering his name over and over in his ear.

It felt good. Terribly good. Alhaitham helped you with your movements, using the strength in his arms to lift your hips up and down with more speed and precision. He was surprisingly loud, moaning loudly, his head pressed against the back of the bed. At this rate, he wasn't going to last long. Knowing you were pregnant, full of desire for him because of the hormones was making him dizzy.

He made you cum several times that night, before retiring to take care of your exhausted, but finally satiated body. After cleaning you up, Alhaitham took you in his arms to let you sleep. His hand, warmly placed on your belly, rocked you. He whispered loving words in your ear to help you fall asleep. Before he fell asleep, he made sure to tell you and the baby that he loved you more than anything.

"Dottore! I have good news for you!"

Dottore never thought about having children. Not with the life he was leading. He was known to be a cold-hearted man with little to no regard for human life. So when you happily told him of your pregnancy, Dottore would cease all movement with a grim look on his handsome face. His ruby eyes seemed empty as they remained fixed on the bottle filled with a strange liquid that he handled carefully before you arrived in his laboratory. "Good news, you say?" His calm voice nevertheless hid a hint of horror. Shivering at his chilling tone, you slowly moved away from him, understanding that he was not happy about the news. Quickly, you ran out of his laboratory, tears in your eyes. "Tsk… Shit!"

Dottore didn't care about people, much less their feelings… Many women had coveted him for his intelligence or his looks, but none of them had interested him enough to make him feel affection. His relationships had always ended in the same way, as soon as one of his suitors started to annoy him, Dottore killed her in cold blood, using her body for his experiments… So why was it so different for you? Why did your distress affect him so much?! Why, by all the gods, did he have to fall madly in love with you? Abandoning everything he was doing, he ran out of his laboratory to catch up with you. Dottore was a man of incredible intelligence, but he always felt like a complete idiot when it came to you. He easily hurt you with his words or his behavior. Yet, you had always stood by him, faithful and loving. So when he finally managed to grab your wrist, he vowed never to be the cause of your tears again.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, letting you beat his chest as hard and as long as necessary if it would earn him your forgiveness. Losing you was not an option… "Let me go! " He tightened his arms around you a little more as he heard your words. "I'm sorry…" He whispered in your ear in a broken voice, which stopped all your movements instantly. You weren't used to hearing him apologize. "A baby? The idea's not so bad." You sniffed against his shirt, plunging your face deep into his chest. "You really are just a jerk…"

After that, Dottore had a completely different demeanor with you. Where he was once obsessed with his research and experiments, his mind now wandered to you, often imagining you with a round belly. A gentle smile would sometimes appear on his lips as he tended to a few vials filled with some herbal liquid or poison. Seeing him like this often frightened his subordinates, who would ask him in a hesitant voice if everything was all right, which usually erased his soft, happy expression to find that cold, threatening façade.

Your companion was not a very popular man, either among the Fatui or anywhere else on Teyvat. He was feared for his experiments on humans and hated for being the cause of death of many. He knew that your relationship with him could harm you, so for your safety and that of his unborn child, he decided to have you live near the Tsarina's palace, only a few steps away from his laboratory. The only people Dottore trusted absolutely were his copies of himself, who took care of your protection in his absence.

At your request, Dottore will cease his research on human beings (though not willingly), claiming that your child does not need a murderer for a father. The two of you argued about this for a long time, but Dottore had found someone who could stand up to him, even finding you frightening at times (and even more so since your pregnancy), when you got upset about the methods he used in his experiments.

Dottore would go to great lengths not to upset you. He knew that strong emotions were not good for you during pregnancy. As a doctor and scientist himself, he knew the risks of miscarriage. He refused to have you followed by a doctor out of nowhere and preferred to be the one to follow your pregnancy and delivery.

During the first six months of pregnancy, Dottore would continue to spend a lot of time in his laboratory, asking Pulcinella to look after you and your needs when his clones could not.

Your husband would leave work in a hurry if one of his copies came to warn him of a problem. You'd be surprised to see him come running, breathless and disheveled, slamming the door to your house and calling your name in a hurry. If you complain of stomach pain, Dottore will lay you down on the bed, taking his medical equipment with him to examine you. As soon as he was reassured of your health, his body would relax as he continued to examine your belly with his stethoscope, a small chuckle making his vocal cords vibrate. When he removed the object from his ears, his amused gaze turned to you. "Would you like to hear it?" For the first time, you could hear your child's first sounds. A softly beating heart… Dottore tenderly kissed your forehead as the first tears of happiness rolled down your cheeks.

After the seventh month, Dottore would spend more time with you. It was strange not to see him working on one of his experiments or even just seeing him in a more casual outfit. Now that he was home more often, Dottore personally made sure you rested properly, sometimes forcing you to lie down on the couch where you were sitting and rest your head on his thighs to fall asleep. Of course, you didn't say anything, enjoying these moments of affection between you and him. Dottore was more tender than he wanted to be, his hand caressing your hair until your eyes closed. You were the one who had made him like this, affectionate, tactile, in love… He had become completely addicted to you, to the idea of building a family… He couldn't deny that a little bit of fear was making his heart twirl.

The more your belly rounded, the more your back became painful, often forcing you to sit or lie down. Dottore would work on massaging your back until you felt nothing.

"I'd rather it be a girl." he once told you. You laughed, knowing exactly why he was saying that. "You'll take what comes, honey." Dottore had seen and lived with younger versions of himself, ranging from childhood to adulthood. You had always thought he was a bit of a father to them, even though it seemed strange.

Dottore always made sure to keep you away from his work to avoid any danger from the Fatui. But, when people hostile to Fatui had attacked you during a moment of inattention on his part, you had seen a face of your husband that you had never seen before. Anger invaded his features, distorting his beautiful face into a mask of hatred. You knew that Dottore already had a lot of blood on his hands and you didn't want your child's father to have any more. Just as he was about to kill those who had hurt you, your voice brought him back to his senses. So, since he couldn't punish them himself, he would let the Fatui justice system do it for him. Perhaps it would have been better if he had killed them…

Your child adored his father, you could tell by the way he wiggled in your belly whenever he heard his voice or felt his hand on your belly. Dottore may have told you it was ridiculous, but you could still see his ruby eyes sparkle every time he felt his baby press against the palm of his hand.

Overall, Dottore will be a very strict father, hoping that his child will follow in his footsteps. He won't be strict to the point of being scary or hateful, he was just what was needed to keep his child from straying from the straight and narrow. Nevertheless, his child will love him unconditionally, seeking his approval, attention and affection every time he comes home.

NSFW Bonus:

You had reached the second trimester of your pregnancy, and you were beginning to feel a rather ferocious carnal appetite. Dottore would be the one to claim you first, though, not waiting for you to come begging. Of course, you were happily guided by this man. You didn't know if it was the pregnancy that made you want to be one with him all the time, and frankly, you didn't care. The only thing that mattered to you was to feel him inside you, to have him claim you, to desire you. Maybe it was a subconscious need to feel desirable again as some of the curves were coming in with the pregnancy?

When Dottore came home, he quickly threw his long fur coat on the coat rack before looking for you in the house with the only idea in mind to make you his. You were used to his roughness in bed, but now that you were pregnant, he was more gentle. He'd take the time to prepare (or rather torture) you with his fingers, caressing your slit and then massaging your clit before his lips took over after tending to your sensitive breasts. Even if you were wet enough for him, Dottore would always add extra lube to his fingers and member.

Your round belly prevented you from getting into certain positions during sex. Most of the time, Dottore would dominate you with all his form, just to save you from any unnecessary physical effort. But sometimes he would simply lay you down on the mattress with your back to him, spreading one of your legs to facilitate the penetration of his member into you.

The swaying of his hips would be torturously slow at first. Dottore liked to play with your nerves, putting aside his desire to hammer you to listen longer to the small moans of pleasure that you offered him. You were so sensitive that it made him lose his mind. But there comes a time when his restraint breaks, and as his lips marked the skin of your neck in a possessive gesture, his hips would increase the pace of their thrusts. Your husband's grunts of pleasure along with the moans of your name would eventually send you over the edge.

Dottore would wait patiently for you to calm down before continuing, his hips slowing in a languid circular motion. He wouldn't cum yet, preferring to savor you for as long as possible. His hand would come to rest on your belly for a while, caressing it gently. He would silently claim your lips with his eyes, kissing you deeply, tangling your tongues together. Dottore was a cold and cruel man, but in your arms, passion and warmth would emanate from him like a fire.

"Sweetheart, I have a gift to give you."

Pantalone was a Fatui enforcer, a wealthy banker known throughout Teyvat as a false, calculating and unscrupulous man. Who would have thought that such a person was capable of loving anything other than his money and starting a family?

When you offered him this small rectangular box carefully sealed with a blue ribbon, Pantalone first looked at it with a doubtful air before displaying his usual smile. "Do we have something to celebrate my dear?" Your sweet, innocent smile always cracked him up. As you remained silent and your gaze grew more insistent, the man sighed before one of his hands tugged at the ribbon that surrounded the package. When he opened the box, he was surprised to find inside a small knitted sweater, obviously made by you. He remained silent for a long time, observing the garment in his hands. "Um… isn't this a baby garment?" He fell silent, realizing what he had just said. When his eyes met yours in a silent question, you nodded sharply, confirming his suspicions. Trembling, he dropped the box to the ground, treasuring the sweater in his hand as he pulled you into his arms. You had both been trying to have a child for several months, and so far, it hadn't been a real success. He was going to do everything he could to take care of you both…

The first few months were complicated for you. You had every morning violent and unbearable nausea. But Pantalone always managed to help you get over it, sitting you on his lap after giving you a cool glass of water. He would massage your belly until you felt better.

Pantalone is rich. Excessively rich. It's almost indecent. Next to him, you felt like a smile. Yet your husband had been poor and that was the same reason why he was spending a lot of moras on his unborn child. He wanted to give him a luxurious and comfortable life, everything that he had not had in his youth. The furniture was made of the best wood. The sheets, mattresses, and all the fabrics covering the surfaces were made of the most expensive materials in all of Teyvat. Of course, he also showered you with gifts, giving you clothes, bringing you all the food you wanted. He spoiled you and fulfilled your every wish.

When the two of you go out, Pantalone always keeps a protective hand on your lower back, warning those who would want to hurt you. He wants to keep you from any unnecessary stress, especially if it's work-related.

You'll be quite surprised to learn that Pantalone has told all of his harbinger colleagues about your pregnancy. Sometimes he would sit in Dottore's office and tell him about your growing belly with unconcealed pride. Dottore would often growl at him, asking him to get out of his lab. The man hated to see his colleague, usually wearing a cold, manipulative smile, so gaga over a "baby.

In the early stages of pregnancy, Pantalone sometimes didn't come home all week, too busy managing Snezhnaya's bank. He hated to leave you alone for so long, even knowing that you had bodyguards protecting you. And although Pulcinella would come to see you from time to time, sometimes bringing you some sweets or your favorite fruit, it didn't make him feel any better. Every day he would write you a letter and you would rush to answer it. He was always so anxious to hear from you…

Pantalone is the kind of man who will talk to your belly, hands gently encircling your hips and an ear pressed against you, hoping to feel his movements and hear his child. If you're sitting comfortably on a couch, the man will come between your legs, face against your belly, eyes closed, savoring your hands combing his long silky hair. He would be perfectly capable of falling asleep in this position, totally serene in your hands.

Sometimes your companion would come home late from work and find you asleep on the couch in the large living room, patiently waiting for him to return. The man would let a long sigh escape him before displaying one of his rare tender smiles, approaching you to kiss your forehead, your nose and then your lips. His hand would warmly caress your rounded belly, until he was startled by his baby's movements. "Well, aren't you still asleep my precious? Be good, don't wake up mommy…" Gently kissing the spot where he had felt his child's thrashing. He would eventually lift you gently off the couch, carrying you in his arms to lay you down in your bed.

Every time Pantalone passed you, he would pull you into his arms, kissing your lips and whispering about how beautiful he thought you were with your rounded belly, brooding over his child. "How is it that every day you get more and more gorgeous?" You would often roll your eyes, cheeks flushed and a slight smile on your lips before silencing him with a kiss.

Pantalone has a deep, gravelly voice, perfect for soothing your child's fidgets as well as your nerves. He will gladly lay you on his lap with a Snezhnaya storybook in hand and read it slowly until you fall asleep.

Your mood swings will never disturb this seasoned businessman. He will find the right words to calm you down.

Your husband will be very affectionate with you. He'll always speak softly to you, the warmth in his voice soothing your often frayed nerves during pregnancy. He will put aside his evil eye, wanting to live many years with you and your child.

Pantalone will be a very loving father and like Kaeya and Zhongli, extremely gaga over his child. He would spoil him to excess if you weren't there to temper him.

NSFW Bonus:

Your partner did not hide his desire for you. After all, he never stopped telling you that he found you beautiful and desirable… Pantalone was not in the habit of asking for you at any time of the day, often too busy with his work. But he couldn't help it, your pregnancy made it impossible for him to control his urges.

Your sexual relations were always slow and languid. Pantalone had never been a rough or brusque person. He liked to sit you on his lap in his office, his fingers penetrating your wet slit. He wanted to hear every moan, every whisper of his name in your mouth. His free hand took hold of your sensitive breast, gently pinching and pulling your nipple. His lips would mark the skin of your neck before moving up to your jaw and then your ear, gently whispering to you to cum for him… His deep voice, marked by lust, will make you rock on his fingers.

Pantalone likes to take you from behind, sticking you against a wall before penetrating you. His hips will slowly sway behind you, first in a teasing circle before moving in more forcefully. One of his hands would be under your belly, helping you bear the weight, however lightly, while the other would draw your hips into place. A smirk would appear on his lips as you begged him to go faster. "Oh? Don't you appreciate the way I take you? It seems to lull our child to sleep though, don't you think? " And indeed, it was possible for sex to lull a baby to sleep in the womb. Reluctantly, you gave in to your husband's slow rhythm.

As soon as he felt your walls tremble on his member as your orgasm approached, Pantalone accelerated his thrusts, surprising you in the process with a shrill cry of sudden pleasure. "Pantalone! The baby he-"; "I never said it was enough to be slow to rock him honey." You quickly climaxed, screaming his name over and over until he released his load inside you, his head collapsing onto your shoulder, his breath tickling your bare back. Both of his hands would rest on your lower abdomen, tenderly caressing it as he whispered his love for you in your ear.

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darlingofvalyria · 9 months

Text

❝I am going to make him bow to me, brother. Mark my words.❞

[ Jace does not yearn for you. Does not wish for you. Does not want you. But oh, lies are bitter and brittle under a tongue that yearns to taste. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,753 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), might be small aegon ii x reader but it's one sided on aeg's behalf, sorry.

contains— manipulative reader, targarcest, mild nsfw, angsty - CANON DIVERGENCE - use of bastard, mentions of alcohol and slight phys. abuse (otto's a dick) - sort of non canon compliant, timeline is loosey goosey; in the books, rhae & dae visit kings landing frequently even after moving to dragonstone, so im going by that - nsfw: male masturbation, strong allusions to sex but no actual woohoo, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas. unedited.

a/n— for my boy jace, the prettiest dark haired prince there is. simp!jace you will always be loved by me. comments, reblogs & like at will! + dividers by @danowh0re + accompanied song: SWEAT— HAYZ.

Aegon, under the guise of weighty cups and half-mast eyes, slides beside you, following your gaze as you appraised the entrance of the Strong bastards into the courtyard.

"Are you sure about this, sister?"

"Does wine taste like heaven under grandsire's scolding, brother?"

Aegon snorts. As your twin, the difference between the two of you are more stark than people might think. Though you share the childish, almost babe like features that usually got women to bow down to Aegon— with your doe eyes, the soft cheeks, and the curled pout — where people think Aegon is a horrible mess of a git, your shared grandsire the forefront of this slander, you are quite the opposite. Beloved, dutiful, and innocent in the eyes of many.

It didn't matter that you wore green as prettily as your mother, or that your twin is a mess of wine and women— you were different. You were kind, pretty, and enticing.

A precious flower among green thorns, the smallfolk whispered.

People had even commiserated how, despite the typical Valyrian looks of silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, your Hightower lineage softened your edges. Your looks.

Your personality.

Snort.

"You know Aemond would rather see you insult the little bastard in half, than whatever it is that you are thinking of doing."

You hum as you don't remove your gaze from the dark haired prince, making jokes with his younger brother, Lucerys. From the corner of the courtyard, you and your twin could see Aemond sparring with Ser Criston with more vigour than he usually did, especially at the time of day. Occasionally, he spared the younger Strong bastard a glance that spoke of trying to unearth his insides from his body, no doubt imagining the very same as he swung his blade.

Aegon and you shared a look, stifling laughter, before you focused back on your prey. Jacaerys Velaryon. A name he uses like a shield despite having not a single drop of the sea in his blood. All you had to do was look at the dark hair, the skin and the nose of the First of Men before him.

How your half-sister Rhaenyra can say he was a Velaryon with a straight face is beyond you.

Your gaze might be searing as Jace looks up at the balcony from where you had been idly staring at him for the better half of the time, and you give him a wry sort of smile. A soft sort of smile. An acknowledgement. Just as he makes a nod of hesitant acknowledgement— unlike your brothers, you had not join in on the hostility and mean-spirited comments — you had already turned fully to Aegon as if you are enraptured by conversation.

"It's a contingency plan, my darling Aeg," you say softly as you brush the back of your hand to his face. You are aware of Jace's gaze now focused on you and your twin and you make it good for him. You make a performance. You follow the steps you've practiced so eagerly.

And eager for your soft touch, Aegon's eyes flutter in response. Ever since you were young, and seeing how harsh everyone is of Aegon and his failures, you decided you would be the kindness to him.

Though you do like him, another contingency plan for him wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all, you can bet on a lot of things, but your grandsire's award-winning thirst for power and your mother's malady to anxieties are good tidings to see them planting Aegon on the throne and usurping everything from your dearest, oldest sister.

Aeg didn't need to know that, of course.

What he can know and what he can help with, is making sure Jacaerys was looking as you smiled softly at your brother, your gold and silver spun hair bathed in morning light, and in one of your favourite dresses— a white silver dress lined with black lace and green embroidery of dragons — you were angelic personified. The Maiden come to gather and soothe your dearest brother.

You capture Aegon's face in your hands, ever soft, ever sweet, as you smile at him. He's so deprived of physical touch that doesn't harm him that he sighs against your palms. You do feel a little bad, but you need this plan to work.

"I am going to make him bow to me, brother," you whisper, giving him a soft kiss to his temple. He shudders, hands placing them on your waist, enunciating the kind curves you sport. "Mark my words, that boy king will stifle under my hand and foot. Mother's fears will not come to fruition. All will be well."

"I am older than you," he says softly, half smiling.

A gaze sears at the side of your face, as strong as the concussive heat radiating off a dragon's maw as your thumb brushes across your twin's cheek.

There is that, you think amusedly. No one can deny the little heir is his mother's child. Bastard he maybe.

"And I am better," you whisper, snickering.

"That you are." But his gaze is past you, back at the courtyard, at the reason for the heat in your skin. A spark of jealousy is quick in his mulish blue eyes but you only laugh. Light but loud, echoing.

"Come," you say with finality, taking a step back and offering your hand as you make the conscious choice of not daring even a peripheral glance, and heading back inside the keep. "We shall see them at dinner. The king's orders."

Your brother makes a sound crossbred from a huff and a groan, and you are already making plans to ensure his wine is controlled for the night, lest he makes a fool of himself in front of the King— or gods forbid, your grandsire — and mayhaps ensure the seating arrangement once again with your mother.

But everthing else is background noise; your schemes and your plots, your facades and faces, because a faux Velaryon has made it known that he cannot keep his gaze away from you.

Everything else is moot.

Jacaerys Velaryon, firstborn son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, soon to be Heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, does not understand himself.

Perhaps you are just eye-catching. Your hair is more gold than silver, but it shifts like a mirage against sunlight. You yourself seem to change under shadows and light, as if you're casting a new spell again and again. Your eyes, your lips, the slivers of presented skin (have you really shown this much skin, all this time?), and your hips.

They sway, like a panther's.

Like a dragon's.

Jace has always known you to be pretty; Helaena has always been his favourite aunt with the fact that she's quiet and doesn't antagonise him like your brothers. Because Helaena simply cared little for him not because he was Rhaenyra's son, or that he didn't look like his father, or because he was a prince of the realm set to become heir once his mother was crowned.

Helaena simply just didn't care about him as a human not as hisn ame or his blood, her thoughts lingering more in her bugs and the fat babes she had with her brother, humming nonsensical under her breath. Not insults.

You were different. You looked. Jace knew you looked but he had never caught you before. It's a dance, he later realises come dawn he is awoken and there is a weight on top of him in rings of gold and silver, breathing softly— alive and so very warm, and from that moment, his — but for now he doesn't know.

Doesn't understand.

Your gaze is weighty, leaving searing imprints like a dragon marking it's favourite horde. But it's so hard to catch.

It started at the training grounds. As if his Uncle Aemond's wasn't enough, there was yours. He knew but could only see once, and even that felt like it was deliberate, a mere nod. As if you controlled how he worked around your sphere, and by gods, were you beautiful. Then you had turned to your twin brother as if he was nothing to you— really, he was, in the scheme of things, you were the secondborn daughter of the Queen, no matter how pretty your visage or blood is, you are a woman and a third child (right after the firstborn daughter and son), and in the other end, Jacaerys was the first son and heir of the Princess of Dragonstone, soon to be Queen. In fact, you should be nothing to him.

He was to become King, and you to be offered to a lord. To be someone's wife, to relinquish your surname and become someone's mother. Rear your new lord husband countless of babes and live your life having fulfilled your sole duty.

It is a fact that tasted brittle and bitter in his tongue, like soot and ash, and he doesn't understand it. You had crossed his mind, idle as it maybe, from time to time, but nothing concrete. You are pretty, you are kind, mischievous at times, playful, and you purposefully don't keep him long in your orbit.

You were just another aunt. Aegon's Twin Flame.

Misbegotten to not even marry your brother.

It was at dinner that night, amongst clinking goblets and fat foods spilling the edges of the table, his grandsire having arrived, even Aegon, rumpled hair and sunken eyes but dressed and suspiciously sober— and you, your mother's favourite, her most affectionate daughter, late.

"Where is she?" Jacaerys heard the Lord Hand asked, but the Queen had no reply, as confused.

And then you arrive, not ten more minutes later, and Jace's entire body had locked.

Though he did not know why or what, he knew you were up to something. You arrived in a new dress from this afternoon— close to it's style, nothing like the Queen's or Helaena's, conservative high necks and pious ever green— no, you came as a surprise with a flutter of a silken hand and an embarrassed laugh, tipping to your father a kiss on the side of his good face.

Even as you sat, it took a good, long while before the chatter would arose again (from your gracious laugh at your father's compliment no less), before everyone's eyes— even Criston Cole's, ever loyal rat — would lift from your visage.

You were ethereal, simply put, in a dress that is not of pious ever green or high collar trim; but in a flutter of what Jacaerys remembers as his mother's gown when she was pregnant with Aegon, and the days got too hot. When the babe inside her, made of pure dragon, had made her a furnace burning from the inside out.

It was the same lightweight material draped over your skins, a thin material bunched up several times so it is not too sheer. Not too inappropriate. Jace doesn't know what the fabric is, doesn't care to, but it looks like flowing water against your body. It moulds to your movements. Your shape is obvious, so are the expose arms, collarbones, your chest dipping low, too low sometimes when you lean over and laugh, eyes alight— Jace's eyes cannot stay away, they are glued to your necklace, to the top of your smooth breasts — and the dress is held together in links of golden dragons, your hair made up in braids, in pearls and small emeralds, with curled strays framing your cheeks and smile, your exposed neck.

It was meant to garner looks, compliments.

But it was the colour that Jacaerys knew it was meant for him.

At the centre of your chest— your bosom that dips, two mounds, so soft looking and the urge to reach over and press his fingers down, see how soft and pliant you really are, hear the kind of noises you make, in pain or pleasure, his thoughts make him hiss, tightening his hold on his wine, pinching nails to skin to ground himself — it starts off a darken green, shifting, blending to a winter green, a bluer green, a seafoam that he is more than familiar with, before escaping the edges in deep water blue.

The colour of his father's house had never looked so good, so charming, so sinful before.

He tears his eyes away from you because it is improper to be staring so, to be looking at you and feel like he is feasting when he is rooted in his chair and still so hungry, especially with the plans of betrothal with Baela, his mother had already asked him if she is ever in his thoughts.

Baela who sits beside him, ramrod straight and keen-eyed, respectable Targaryen lady, a confidant and a good friend. She would make a good queen in the future, he had thought so before. Respectable and fearsome, the best parts of his stepfather and the late Lady Laena.

He shakes his head, swallowing down his slice of veal before he kicks Luke's leg under the table.

His brother yelps, a mournful irritated sound for his eyes had ogled far longer (just like he, but would never admit) on you than was proper, reminding him, and yet when you look up at the sound, your eyes— have they ever been so violet? — lands on him. Again.

When your gazes meet, he is enraptured, but he clears his throat and nods. "You look good, aunt." And because he cannot step, because his thoughts are cloudy and you are looking at him as if you know he can't stop looking at you, as if you can read each filthy thought he tries to stifle, as if you like it, he continues, "The sea green is a nice colour on you."

He can feel eyes on him, even the Lord Hand's. Even Aegon, goblet pressed against his lips, hiding a smirk. He burns, but he doesn't burn as bright when your smile stretches, your lids lower, and he burns so bright he fears he might be on fire.

The flames are licking him and he does not mind, so long as you keep your gaze.

"Thank you, nephew," you hum. "That is so very sweet of you to say."

And Jacaerys blushes, coughing once when he notices his lady mother giving him a look. Knowing. Curious but not probing, not yet. What he doesn't notice is the Queen's perceptive frown as she gazes at her daughter, the Lord Hand's raised eyebrow, or Aegon trying so very hard to stifle his laughter, turning to Helaena as if he is saying something to her.

But what Jacaerys does see is Aemond's intense glare, sharpened and rekindled and suspicious, and Daemon... The Rogue Prince is eyeing you differently. No longer just another Targaryen bleeding Hightower green, no longer just another offspring of the Hightower cunt.

No, Jace can almost see inside his stepfather's brain and see the Valyrian looks. The body of a woman freshly sloughed off the body of a child.

You are pretty and young and Daemon Targaryen is looking at you.

It shocks Jace how much he despises it.

It is for my mother, his thought persists even as he looks at you again and his insides whirl. I am upset for my mother.

Daemon Targaryen can see plainly what you are doing.

You've always hated that about men with good insight, who do not care for what is between your legs, only for your actions. For what it might do for what he cares about.

And Daemon cares for Rhaenyra, for Viserys, for the Targaryen legacy, pure and untainted.

(As if the blood of the First Men is okay to bastardise his bloodline but gods forbid the oldest and greatest of the Great Houses).

And he is now looking at you as if he has noticed the steps and webs you have spun around for his stepson, the direct legacy, and he is amused.

The dinner comes to a conclusion to a small dancing, and your twin, dutiful to you and your orders you had told him as you cleaned and prepared him for dinner; stood up, brushed himself off, and politely asked Baela for a dance— the latter looking so surprised he was fully sober, much less asking for her hand — that she found no excuse, and reluctantly accepted as they pivoted to the centre.

As Daemon continues to look at you, to unravel you as if you are an enemy in a battle map, you stand up quickly and turn to Aemond, smile wide and fake.

Jacaerys won't ask you to dance. He had drawn looks with his compliment, suspicion. Grandsire was right, they are planning to marry him off to Baela to strengthen their cause. Jace will not entertain anything anymore publicly.

Duty bound, honour bound.

But, but, but.

you are not a fool, you know men and their pissing contests. You are a daydream hiding a nightmare.

For the past few minutes, he had noticed Daemon's inquisitive, amused appraisal of you, and his brown eyes (pretty for a bastard's; Ser Harwin's lashes must have been long) had burned a different fire and it gives you an idea, an exhale of relief.

Jealousy can salvage anything.

You just need to push him.

And Aemond is beautiful, a true Valyrian King in visage, the Warrior come alive. You look so much softer when you are beside him.

"Sister?" Aemond looks up at you, curious, confused since the beginning of the night. There is a plot he isn't privy to, and he has been spearing glances at you, at Aegon, at his grandsire just in case he knew anything.

You were unmarried while Aegon had married Helaena. Your time is coming, and he loathes the idea of a betrothal to the Strong Bastard. He had made his complaints known when the missive came from your sister, asking sweet Helaena's hand for your son thinking your mother would have surely betrothed you to your twin.

Neither side knowing you had almost sent back your name, offering your hand.

"It has been a while since you had asked me to dance, little brother," you say, hands behind your back, framing yourself soft and playful. There are so many gazes on you, you play with it well.

"I was ten and one then, mandia sister, a boy."

"Too long," you tease. "Kessa ao daor lilagon lēda aōha mandia, valonqar? Will you not dance with your sister, little brother?"

He hums, acquiescing easily, and standing up. You peel a laughter that attracts a chuckle from the king. This is how you dance around the palm of Viserys I. Men like it when you play a part. Not to cost trouble, not to step over the line.

You aren't the elder sister, the firstborn child. You are means to further a line, not to have any important position. Rhaenyra is the exception only from the womb that bore her. You, like Helaena, are likened to fall in line and act like you like it. Like being a fat, old lord's wife has always been your dream. Bear his babes and suffer the trauma of hanging your life in the balance to produce them into the world.

It makes you burn with rage most days.

"What are you doing, mandia sister?" Aemond whispers against your cheek after having brought you close, dancing through the steps swiftly, keenly. It truly is a shame that Aemond doesn't dance oft.

"Won't you just believe and put your faith in the sister that you adore?" you snipe playfully. It's easy to use Aemond's hair to hide the glance you drop Jacaerys and see the seething glare he burns through your baby brother's head. Lust, yearn, jealousy— they dance and cook in his gaze. You giggle despite yourself.

"Grandsire will not allow you to marry that bastard," Aemond hums, unable to hide his irritation. You roll your eyes. Clever little brothers.

"As much love as I can grasp from my heart for our grandsire, valonqar, I am a dragon. I will take what I want. A tower is nothing to dragonfire. Grandsire oft forgets I am a princess of the realm and he is only a lord." You step back and bow as the song ends, as your father tires and wishes to go to bed. He only stays this long, or even leaves his chambers, when Rhaenyra decides to deign Kings Landing with her presence.

Always more for the heir. More effort, more love, more care.

And what is left for the other daughters of Viserys I?

He remembers Helaena's existence less, and if you do not make it a point to visit him everyday— to entertain him, read to him, laugh at being mistaken for Rhaenyra — you are sure you will be nothing more than a faint dream to him.

Your anger licked dark and green. Inside, it rages.

You watch as Jacaerys Velaryon says something to his mother, a rushed farewell, an excuse— a press of your fingers against your lips as you catch his breeches are tight, that his jaw is clenched — you step closer to Aemond once more, Aegon now drifting away from Baela and back into your orbit.

"Don't worry, little brother, I do not actually desire the Strong bastard. I want his crown."

Aegon giggles breathlessly, eyeing as Aemond's eye widen a fraction before he composes himself. "And what do you need now, sister, to accomplish such a beguilingly easy task?" Aegon snorts softly. There is only a faint scent of alcohol on him. You take it as win. "He's like a green boy from a quick flash of your chest. What more your tits in full display?" He leans close, mean and adorable. "You do not want a husband who is too quick for your own pleasure."

You swat his arm, pinching the soft flesh of his stomach before Aemond fully throttles him.

"Watch your tongue," Aemond hisses, fists clenching.

"It is okay. I take no offense, he is just being silly to rile you up," you placate him, pulling your twin closer to you just as Helaena approaches, shuffling close to your other side, burying her head against your collarbone. You hum, letting her quietly choose which physical affection she can take from you.

The four Green children, missing one. Scales of the dragon they may have, green fire burning from their maws. The four Green children, miss one. Sons and daughters of Viserys I. Nothing more than wombs and seeds for his legacy.

You finally turn to Daemon's probing stare and you keep it. "Keep his family away from him," you whisper to your siblings. You do not care if he understands. At this point, even your grandsire may have an idea for your plots.

And for the crown, for his lineage, no ambition is too small.

If he can send your mother to an old, grieving man after he had butchered his first wife, what ease it is to send a granddaughter willing to dance a scandal?

"I need him alone tonight."

You do not come to him immediately, more than knowing what he is doing. Maegor's Holdfast is a fun little place, with its secrets and tunnels. You had already studied the path to his apartments beforehand, and you are there, against the hidden way, hearing him fuck his fist to the vision of you, your name dripping and spitting from his pretty red lips.

You catching him after the high, chest up and down breathing hard. There is a self-loath, a disgust. You can just read his thoughts. When you enter, he is alarmed, a sword in his hand, guarded replaced to shock at the sight of you.

"Aunt," he whispers, appalled. Lustful. Righteous.

You tilt your head, unsmiling. You guard your thoughts as you approach, hands behind your back, voice soft. "Do you always reach to completion with my name in your tongue, nephew, or is today an exception?"

Jacaerys Velaryon flinches, sword hand dipping. "I—"

You are close, a hair's breadth away. Amusingly, he is struggling with himself. His honour in one hand, his desire in another. He wants to leap away from you and pull you close.

His choice is still open.

You answer for him.

"Would you like to know whose name falls from my lips when I reach completion?" you whisper against his lips. So close but still so far. Your fists are clenched behind your back, nails drawing blood. You cannot fail now. The Rogue Prince might be wandering now, ready to yank you or kill you.

You are a viper in a vipper's nest, and Daemon Targaryen is too late to realise you only want one true victim.

Jacaerys is drawn, the shock of your words melting to make way for the flutter of his eyes and the full shudder of his body as you lick a strip across his bottom lip, staining him.

Break yourself for me, Strong Boy, you think as he opens his eyes and stares at your lips. Break your oaths, your promises.

"Whose?" he asks, voice hoarse.

The surrender is at the hands he has brought first to your hips before he rose it slowly up and up, until his warm palms cupped your jaw, your face, swallowed in his hold. It is a delight to know his hands are bigger than your face, that he is told to tower over you. A boy king grown.

"Yours."

He groans but does not let you go. "I am betrothed."

You still. Such a Good, Strong Boy, resisting until the very fucking end. "I have not heard of such announcements, nephew."

"Mother will announce soon."

"Is that what you want then?" You grip his hands and stride forward until your are chest to chest. Until he can feel every outline of your body against his, until you can feel the hard line of his manhood against your stomach. Until he feels his own body breaking his oath.

"Please, Jace," you whisper, you beg. Your eyes begin to water. "I want you to take me... Only you. I have longed for you for so long. Your mother— my sister betrothed you to me first." He leans back, surprise flitting. "Yes, my love. But my mother had refused. I— I thought you would see it nevertheless. The affection in my gaze, the smile I give only to you. That I am offering my heart, my soul, my body to you. Only to you, Jacaerys."

Your tears are running down now, your voice so soft and so desperate. Where lust had clouded him, it is now tinged with a flattered adoration.

Men are so simple. Boys far simpler.

"I thought you knew," you say at last in a voice as broken as your heart. You take his hands away and step back. He grasps but you turn away, a sob wracks from your chest as fake as when you were a child, trying not to get in trouble with your mother so she can fire the septa that you hated. She had sneered at Aegon's drunken folly and was disgusted by Aemond's fresh wound.

You wanted her gone.

"Aunt, I—"

"It is alright," you cut him off. You turn back slightly, your smile watery, your gaze to the floor. "Aegon did not choose me either, unlovable as I am. Men only want me for my body and nothing more. I-I'll leave you be. Good night—"

You never finish your spiel because he had yanked you, hard, against him, his lips moving against yours— clumsily, not enough practice but aggressive in its desire — pressing you against him as if he is trying to swallow you whole.

Jacaerys is not bowing, not yet. But that night with his seed warm and full inside your womb, his body encased against your own, tightening whenever you made a movement, as if in fear any step you take away from him would slip you so freely from his fingers— his mouth, his lips, bruised by your own making, pressing featherlight soft against the side of your head, your hair — it is not too soon to think the boy king will bend the knee to you and only you.

And maybe the babe you bear him, but there is no need to rush. These steps are delicate but sure.

After all, he has only just cemented the thought that he will whisk you both to Dragonstone at first light, a traditional Old Valyrian wedding.

He will bow soon enough.

For now, you will enjoy your glowing win.

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