#when my family knows my special interests and indulges in them :(
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Not emotionally stable for this-
My dad who like knows jack shit about star wars and who only ever sends me Instagram reels of Korean recipes and restaurants to try in LA or cat compilations with the annoying ass wheezing or laughing audio over it sent me a reel of a LEGO droid factory that has like moving parts and shit-
#GAH YOU DONT UNDERSTAND#when my family knows my special interests and indulges in them :(#ESPECIALLY MY DAD#HES AN ASIAN DAD#he might not tell me he loves me or remember my name but its things like this that just#:(#my love language: instagram reels dealing with my special interests#also bad batch has made me emotionally weak and unstable#almost burst into tears over a lego reel#leave me alone#aaaaaaaa
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cradling constellations // jace x reader
when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.
whateverĀ ourĀ souls are made of, his and mine are the same. āemily brontĆ«
fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if thatās even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !
the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.
you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.
after the events of laenaās funeral and the loss of aemondās eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.
jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryonās by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however ā which is usually when theyāre lording it over the dark-haired boys.
in truth, the velaryonās are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and itās usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.
away from your brothersā taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.
it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadnāt tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaenaās marriage, and you arenāt willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.
rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemonās return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephewsā company. years go by with no contact from your sisterās family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. thereās no use dwelling on what you canāt have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemondās temper.
and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the kingās fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering itās unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, thereās no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.
for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster ā but you intend to enjoy it while you can.
going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea.Ā
your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if youāre going to crawl out of your skin if you donāt do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.
silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.
silverwing hadnāt been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemondās and helaenaās hadnāt. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and lukeās dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.
your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. sheād been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanneās dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queenās death. sheād flown from the dragonmont to find you, and youāve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her āperfect daughterā has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.
but, to you, flying is freedom.
thereās nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and sheāll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and youād long ago learned to stop bringing it up.
silverwingās joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.
āivestragÄ« Ä«lva sÅvegon, Ʊuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]ā
she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwingās distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.
a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, whoās a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.
you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.
long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you canāt even tell which one of you itās coming from.
a dragonās cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where sheād been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegonās dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.
but itās an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and itās only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.
vermax.
and jacaerys.
your heart skips in your chest, silverwingās unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. itās only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall sheād have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.
she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.
the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.
eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.
āmÄzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],ā you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but youāre well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.
youāre quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. ākirimvose, Ʊuha raqiros. kesi sÅvegon arlÄ« aderÄ« [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],ā you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.
you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.
despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that youād picked out your old riding gear this morning ā comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man youād once daydreamed about marrying.
you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. heās grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.
you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but youāre startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.
ācome now, princess,ā he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. heās the only one whoās ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. āsince when have we been ones for formality?ā
it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. āi suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?ā you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. āitās good to see you again, jace.ā
āaye,ā he returns, dark eyes sparkling. āit is good to see you, indeed.ā
for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. thereās something in his face that youāve never seen there before ā but then you think of course there is. you havenāt seen him in so long thereās probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way heās a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy youād loved in secret, once.
you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.
āare the rest of your family not flying in?ā you query after a moment.
he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. āno, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.ā
you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. āwell then, let me be the first to welcome you back to kingās landing, my prince.ā you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.
āi had hoped youād be the first iād see.ā he admits this casually, as if this doesnāt set your heart and mind racing. āi have missed you, aunt.ā
you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. āand i you, nephew.ā you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you donāt miss the way his eyes track the movement.
heās the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. āshall we head to the keep, then? my motherās ship should have arrived by now and we wouldnāt want to miss the formal welcome.ā
āas you say,ā you agree, and the two of you set off.
you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. youād expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything itās the opposite. itās as if youād last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you donāt have it in you to be surprised. thatās always been the thing with jace, after all ā itās easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if thereās a part of you that was just born knowing him.
he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that heās never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way heās looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.
āoh, but you simply must tell me!ā you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. āyou wouldnāt keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?ā
you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you canāt read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. youāre overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.
he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so youād be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to ā how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.
oh.
oh.
you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest ā you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that youād fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isnāt him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.
you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jaceās nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.
ājaceā¦ā
ābrother! there you are!ā
lukeās voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadnāt realised just how close youād gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close youād come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.
āhello, nephew,ā you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jaceās eyes burns into the side of your face. āit is very good to see you again.ā
āaunt!ā luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time youād seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where heās not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.
āluke, honestly,ā jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. āweāre at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.ā
the younger boy winces. āah, right, yes.ā he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. āit is a great honour to see you once more, princess.ā he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jaceās face at his brotherās antics. heās hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.
in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. āit is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.ā
luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think theyāre at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.
āthe queen is looking for you, dear aunt,ā luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.
itās only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, youāve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your motherās ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ānot one of themā. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.
āalright?ā he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.
āyes, iām sure all will be well.ā you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. āi expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.ā
luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.
āiāll see you at the feast,ā he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.
well. if your mother doesnāt kill you, you think jace certainly will.
jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.
after meeting with his mother to explain why heād been late to the formal greetings ā or, rather, offer excuses as to why heād been late, since he doesnāt think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely ā heād sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and heād wasted no time in shedding his clothes. heās keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when heās done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.
kingās landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.
he can admit to himself heād enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. itās been so long since heād seen you, not since the aftermath of laenaās funeral, and he hadnāt been prepared for how the sight of you ā breathless and flush and beaming at him ā would make him feel. heād almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.
youāve grown well, thereās no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, youāve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. heād been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but youād not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, youād been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.
you just ā youāre so unlike anyone else he knows. heād let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, youād been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache heād become so used to heād not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.
heās not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.
youāre not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks itās a testament to his restraint that heād not kissed you on the spot when youād pouted so prettily up at him. heād thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how youād gravitated into his space as if without intention.
heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if heād slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time ā almost undone at just the thought of you. he wonāt be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.
itās not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jaceās head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine itās your slick, instead.
he pictures you before him, pretends itās your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldnāt be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines theyāre a little calloused ā soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. theyād drag so deliciously against his skin, and youād take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. youād watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and heād unravel for you so quickly itād be embarrassing if it was anyone else.
āfuck,ā he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.
his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.
he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else ā not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesnāt care how he must do it ā as long as youāre as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.
the feast has started by the time jace arrives.
his indulgence had cost him time, and then heād spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. heād hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter ā there would be time enough later. if he has his way, thereāll be all the time in the world.
you look beautiful, he notes. youāre dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prickās presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.Ā Ā
as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. heās gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that youāre quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and heās helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.
luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.
itās a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the kingās birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.
it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows itās partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.
his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and heād thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.
it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him heād shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. itās incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.
the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicentās sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadnāt expected. perhaps theyāve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jaceās tentative smile.
he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they werenāt meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.
he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, youād enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then youād been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each otherās orbit. heās always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.
his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you donāt drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.
perhaps this feast wonāt be as tedious as heād feared.
āare you enjoying the festivities, princess?ā
jaceās voice pulls you from where youāve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. youāve lost count of how many goblets youāve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and youād all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.
āi am enjoying them well enough,ā you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since youād found her earlier; her stepdaughterās arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture sheād given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.
he's not been a good father to you, the king. heās called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like itās you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long itās just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. youāve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.
you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. āiā¦ fear i may have indulged in too much wine,ā you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.
itās aegonās fault, you decide; before heād gotten belligerently drunk heād been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, youād not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.
jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.
gods, i want him.
the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesnāt, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ākiss me, pleaseā.
āi think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,ā you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.
āiāll escort you,ā jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.
he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him youād noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.
you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that youāre retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.
of course, youāre not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.
youāre really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, youād have been able to keep your wits about you. youād wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, youāre being led back to your rooms like a child whoās had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.
jaceās presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him ā itās all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and itās justā ridiculous. youāve spent mere hours in his presence and youāre like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. itās foolish, reckless, absurd. but itās there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.
you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth youāll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.
āi donāt think iāve ever seen you drunk before,ā he observes, tone light.
you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. āitās aegonās doing,ā you tell him solemnly. āmy brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance isā¦ much higher than mine own.ā
jace snorts. āaye, i had noticed.ā
you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jaceās profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.
āis there something on my face, princess?ā
jaceās mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. heās smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you donāt think youāve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours youāve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you ā it is unconscionable. you donāt know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.
āi apologise, my prince,ā your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. āi did not mean toā¦ i was leagues away.ā
his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and itās too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.
āwe shouldā we are almost at my chambers.ā your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. āi can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.ā
jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.
āas you wish,ā he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. āsweet dreams, princess.ā
you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced youāll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.
oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.
jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.
he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsireās health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps thatās why these festivities are so important; itās unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him withā¦ complicated feelings.
when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. itās a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesnāt understand how heās ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.
the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, youād make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. itās as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another ā he sees a flower and wonders if youād like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears heās not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.
for all that youād appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies itās that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.
because you are avoiding him.
yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think itās busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemondās side so fiercely either. you know he wonāt approach you when youāre with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.
jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his motherās son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, thatās all that can matter.
he knows itās all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, youāve never done so. youāve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and itās just one thing among many he treasures about you.
perhaps itās foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments sheās made about betrothals and duty.Ā
he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesnāt really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesnāt feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy.Ā
it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didnāt reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and heās tiring of pretending thereās nothing there anymore.
heās tired of pretending he doesnāt miss you.
so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when thereās another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. heās found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a womanās form.
āp-prince jacaerys,ā you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. āhow are you enjoying the feast?ā
āwell enough,ā he returns, echoing the words youād spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.
āthat isā¦ good.ā your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.
āwould you do me the honour of a dance, princess?ā
his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that youāll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.
āof course.ā you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.
he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as heād expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.
you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that youāre obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.
āyouāve been avoiding me,ā he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.
your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. āaye,ā you admit quietly. āi have been.ā
āwhy?ā he doesnāt mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.
you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.
āiā jace, i canāt.ā your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. āi canāt. not here, please.ā
wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. itās blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.
you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.
āi embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,ā you confess miserably. āi drank too much, and the way that i behavedā staring at you in that wayā it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.ā
he blinks in surprise. āuncomfortable?ā the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as youād stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? āprincess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.ā
your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. ātruly? you do not jest?ā
he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing youāll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks heād be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.
āsurely you must know how i feel for you?ā he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. āhow desperately i adore you?ā
ājacaerysā.ā you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. āwe hardly know each other anymore. i wonāt deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. itās been years sinceā"
āādo you think time matters?ā he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. āthat any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i donāt know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.ā he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, āand i think you might love me just the same.ā
you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but heās too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.
he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.
āi will not push you,ā he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. āif you do not want this ā if you do not return my feelings ā i wonāt push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.ā he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.
ābut if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.ā he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. āi hope to see you later tonight, my princess.ā
you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.
he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. youāre glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you donāt know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.
heās in love with you (!).
itās too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court youāve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, thereās no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps youāve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that youāll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?
but thereās been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesnāt matter but it does. it does.
only it doesnāt, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him youāre retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.
you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jaceās chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect youāll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the princeās rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.
the knock on his door ā unguarded, as he had promised ā echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.
heās shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and youāre entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.
he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.
you are finally, blissfully, alone.
you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think youāre speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.
āi shouldnāt be here,ā you say shamelessly. āi know my being here isā. i shouldnāt be here. but i couldnāt not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. itās unreasonable, insensibleā thereās so much about each other we just donāt know anymore.ā you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. ābut despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense ā despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us ā i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.ā
he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and itās still glorious, itās the best kiss youāve ever experienced because itās him.
itās always been him.
you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. ātell me again,ā he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.
āi love you,ā you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. āi love you, i love you, i loāā
he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then heās laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. āi have loved you forever,ā he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. āi will love you forever, my princess.ā
he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.
āiksÄ sÄ«r gevie [you are so beautiful],ā you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.
he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever ā bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.
āƱuha dÄrilaros [my princess],ā he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.
arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.
one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.
ājace,ā you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.
āthis isā we shouldnāt,ā he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. āwe should wait until weā. if anyone knew of thisāā
āāno one will know,ā you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.
āi donāt want to, to besmirch your honour.ā even as he speaks heās dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.
āfuck my honour,ā you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you canāt think, canāt breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.
he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. āthis will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.ā
his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.
but you donāt want him to stop. youāve never wanted anything less.
ājace.ā you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. āi know the risks of this as well as anyone.ā you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. āi love you.ā he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.
when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.
āi am yours, jacaerys velaryon,ā you say steadily. āno matter what happens from hereā i belong to you.ā
itās like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.
ālook at you, pretty thing,ā he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. āis this all for me?ā
āyes,ā you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. āall for you, jace. only ever for you.ā
he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times youāve caught his eyes lingering on your chest havenāt just been in your imagination.
āyou are perfect,ā he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. āsuch a perfect girl for me.ā
his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until heās hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.
ājacaerys, please.ā you know not what youāre pleading for, only that you need something, and itās as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. itās somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.
āmore, please,ā you beg shamelessly.
jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.
he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.
he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.
he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. ālet me take care of you, my princess,ā he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.
āgods, look at you.ā he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. āyouāre so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.ā he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because heās obscene, you think. heās glorious.
āyou taste so good,ā he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. āwanna taste more of you.ā
with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.
your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high youāre helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.
ājace, gods, feels so good,ā you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. āplease donāt stop, ām so closeāā
he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until youāre squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.
āyou did so well for me, my princess,ā he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. āneed you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.ā
you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and youāre suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.
you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.
āfuck,ā he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.
emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.
āi want you so badly,ā he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.
āyes,ā you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. āwant you, jace, please.ā
āi need to prepare you first, love,ā he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. āi donāt wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.ā
youāve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you canāt comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good heās made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jaceās stubborn expression and he beams down at you.
āthatās my good girl,ā he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
the finger thatās been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. youāve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you donāt know if itās different because itās the angle or just because itās jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything youāve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.
āyouāre so tight,ā he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. ācanāt wait to be inside you, my princess.ā
you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.
āfuck, jacaerysāā
he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you canāt take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesnāt relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.
ājust one more,ā he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. āyouāre doing so well. just one more for me.ā
your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.
with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.
your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. heās going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.
jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.
āif you keep doing that, iām not going to last,ā he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.
āfine.ā
you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. youāre not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.
āare you ready for me, love?ā he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.
you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. āyes,ā you say simply, and itās all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.
his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips heās pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.
the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when heās finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when youāre ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.
he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that youāve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.
āsÄ«r sČ³z syt nyke, sÄ«r Č³rda, sÄ«r lÅz. vÄttan syt nyke. Ʊuha dÄrilaros, mirre Ʊuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].ā
it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. itās too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.
āmore, jace, gods, please, i needāā
he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. itās so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something youāre not sure you know how to verbalise.
āwhatever you need, love. iāll give you whatever you need.ā
understanding your need even when you donāt, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and itās perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.
āyāfeel so good,ā you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. āsoā fuckā so deep. so good, jace, so good.ā
jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that itās unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.
āavy jorrÄelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gÅ«rogon nyke sÄ«r sČ³rÄ« [take me so well], canāt get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon Ʊuhon [youāre mine], my love, my princess, my queen, Ʊuha ÄbrazČ³rys [my wife].ā
you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jaceās cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.
you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where theyāve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.
you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.
āiāll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,ā he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. āiāll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.ā he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.
āi love you,ā you say, eyes shining with mischief. āƱuha valzČ³rys [my husband].ā
jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.
you love him. he loves you.
thereās nothing else that matters.
#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon smut#jacaerys velaryon imagine#jacaerys velaryon fanfic#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys smut#hotd#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfic#jacaerys targaryen#jace velaryon#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys targaryen smut#jacaerys targaryen x reader#jacaerys targaryen imagine#jacaerys targaryen fanfic#my writing
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Minors DNI - 18+ - Explicit Sexual Content - 4,6k words Attention: Mentions of fictional Witchcraft and Voodoo (I know this is a very sensitive topic, which is why I threaded very vaguely and lightly. I mean absolutely NO disrespect to either of those spiritualities)
Master of Puppets
You paced nervously through your room. The clock ticked the safe seconds away, the seconds Alastor where wasn't here. The seconds where Alastor didn't know.
He liked you, of course. At least enough to experiment with you, that much you could say with confidence. He had shown interest in the little witch inventor that joined the hotel, sharing the same proficiency in magic as himself. Although, unlike him, you had been an eclectic witch in your lifetime, and used more traditional western magic, whereas Alastor wasn't familiar with that, relying fully on voodoo practices he learned from the women of his family. So, you taught him and he taught you, and over the shared hours of lessons, discussions and practices, things got more and more... handsy. Until one day even the last gap between you was closed, and before both of you knew it you were sharing a bed more often than a book on sigils or rituals.
It was a mutual thing. You were insanely attracted to him, and he liked you well enough to indulge in activities he'd normally frown upon. Which made you feel special - It didn't soothe the nerves though, as you fumbled around with the little objects in the black carved box, making sure everything was perfect, before hastily slamming it shut when you heard knocks on the door.
"Yes?" you said, as if you hadn't been expecting him, as if your heart wasn't trying to leap out of your chest.
"Darling, it's me! May I come in?" you heard him say, and the door opening before you could answer. "I hope I'm not too early."
You turned around, giving him a shy smile after glancing at the clock on the wall. "You're right on time, as always."
"Punctuality is one of the only virtues I try uphold." He took a few steps towards you. "Is everything alright? You look nervous."
"Do I? It's... Nothing. I just have... I'm excited for something to show to you."
"Really?" He was intrigued, leaning in a little. "Well, now I'm curious. Is it the skinning spell you've been working on? I might have some test subjects in mind, if you are already finished."
You cleared your throat, feeling your heart beating painfully in your chest. "Not quite. I made something new, though."
"Oh?" he said, tilting his head to the side. "What is it?"
You fidgeted, not knowing how to start, how to ease him into it. He was a man that didn't appreciate if one beat around the bush, so better to rip the band-aid off in one violent, leap-of-faith-kind of way. You went to the black box, fingers trembling as you lifted the golden hatch, and before you could change your mind and call the whole thing off you scooped the small voodoo dolls out and held them out to him.
"I made these. For you... Us."
He was taken aback for a moment, not saying anything as he stared at the two little cloth figures, then down at you. They were intricately made replicas of you both, you had spent hours and hours sewing them, even going so far as to design and make identical outfits for them. He took both of them out of your hands, turning them slowly in his own, examining them with a frighteningly unreadable look.
"So you solely tried your hands on my profession I see. Why?" his eyes were boring into you, the smile on his face tight and tense, and you had to fight yourself not to stutter.
"I-I figured..." You swallowed hard. "I thought it could help us to... to be closer. More connected, in a way. And I thought you would like to... try this."
He blinked slowly, and the grin he wore stretched a bit further, the static getting louder in your ears. You were starting to think he didn't like it. You were starting to regret this.
"It is an unusual gift." His voice was calm, laced with a hint of curiosity, but you still couldn't relax. "Quite a surprise, too."
"Is that good or bad?" you asked, and he chuckled softly.
"I don't know, darling. That depends on how it will be used." He holds up your miniature, his brows raised expectantly. "Tell me how it works."
"Uh... Well, it's more of a mix between your and my magic. T-they have some of my spells sewn into them, and then I enchanted them on your altar. All that's left to do is to tie a hair around the neck of it and offer a drop of blood, and... we will be able to feel anything that's done to the doll."
"Feel?" He cocked his head to the side, eyes gleaming with dark excitement.
"Anything." Your throat was dry, the words almost catching there.
"That sounds positively delightful."
Your heart did a flip in your chest as his voice lowered into a purr, his eyes fixed on the tiny you, the static rising around him. He was captivated, but also suspicious, and that didn't make your anxiety lessen one bit. More so as he found the red stain on your dolls chest and the shimmer of a hair around its neck. Your version of a peace offering.
"It seems this little thing is already prepared and ready to use, isn't it, dearest?" he hummed, looking at you, the smile stretching wide and showing his sharp teeth.
"Yes... if you wanted to... see how it worked first. To decide whether you want to give it a try."
He laughed, and the sound made you shiver. There was no humor in it, but sheer anticipation. Hunger. "Well then. Better not waste such a generous opportunity."
He sat his own replica down on the nightstand next to your bed, and settled down on the mattress, patting the spot next to him for you to join. You did, sitting as stiff as a board, your eyes trained on him as he looked down at your little doll. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before running his fingers across the doll's body, and you gasped.
All your hard work evidently payed off - The touch felt eerily real. Warm, like the heat of his hands was spreading all over you, a soft caress up the middle of your stomach, a tickle around your waist. His fingertips traveled upward, pressing softly against your chest, and your breath stocked in your lungs.
"You've really outdone yourself with this one darling. So receptive..." Alastor's smile widened into a full grin, and the fact that he didn't need to touch your skin to see the blush creeping across your cheeks was one detail he seemed to particularly enjoy. The rough feeling of his claws grating against you was replaced with the hot touch of phantom lips, pressing gently against your neck as he pulled the small shirt collar aside, his tongue licking across the doll's shoulder.
The sensation almost felt out of place in comparison, making you fall onto your back with a gasp, into the soft covers of your bed, unable to maintain any sort of composure. Instead of feather light touches, his mouth felt way heavier on your skin than it should. Warm, wet... As he scraped his teeth along the little doll's neck, a low moan slipped between your lips.
"And what attention to details. It's almost a shame to ruin your hard work, but oh well."
His eyes stayed on you as he hooked a fingertip under the dolls garments, cutting it clean off of it, and even though yours stayed fully intact - what you were feeling was a whole different story. Your eyes betrayed you: Even fully clothed you felt the cool air of your room on your skin, you felt exposed, bare and utterly vulnerable. It made your skin break out in goosebumps and your lips part in an unstifled sound of arousal.
"Gorgeous, darling... Absolutely wonderful. A truly masterful piece of magic." The tone of his voice was tingling all over you, a mixture of warm affection and dark cravings. You had never been one to enjoy being praised by a man, but it made you close your eyes and squirm with absolute and desperate need when it came from Alastor. Mouth already open to say something, the words died in your throat, replaced by a high whine when you felt a wet sensation traveling over your stomach down to the inside of your thighs. Your eyes snapped open, finding Alastor's again, his irises practically glowing and locked on you as he ran his tongue all the way across the small body. Teasing. Playing. He narrowed his eyes and traced every curve with the same meticulous patience you knew him for, the sensation sending shocks of excitement and adrenaline through you as it circled the dolls skin, drawing closer and closer to the most intimate parts, until there was nowhere else to trail, nowhere else for it to run to. He stopped, leaving you flushed and panting and shattered next to him on the bed.
"My, my, sweetheart..." he cooed, poking the little doll in his hands into it's side with the softest touch, making you jerk into his side. "At this rate, this seems more like a gift for you than for me."
The blush on your face deepened and you averted your eyes. "...You're probably not wrong."
"No, I'd say I am absolutely right," he chuckled, shifting closer and tracing a hand up your body and to your throat in a smooth motion, and your body arched into the touch with the ease of a moth to flame. For a moment, he didn't move, resting his claws wrapped around your neck, his fingertips heavy on your skin. He seemed to weight his options, deciding on how to proceed. Finally, he leaned into you, bringing his lips closer to yours and when he spoke it was barely a whisper.
"I'll trust you to rectify this circumstance then."
Your eyes widened when he stood up, gently placing your doll down and switching its place with his own. You sat up, watching how he carefully plucked a hair from his head, wrapping it tightly around the neck of his miniature alter ego. It looked almost sinfully elegant and downright seductive, how his long fingers tied it tightly, before he turned back to you, his grin splitting his face in half. There was something in his expression you haven't seen before - hesitancy. It was only a second, but you still held your breath as it passed, and he chuckled as he bit his lip, dark, almost black blood dripping onto the chest of the doll in his hands.
"A rare occasion for me to spill blood. I hope you'll make it worth it."
You swallowed heavily and he grinned, reaching for your hand and gently putting the doll on your palm, giving you a stern, commanding look. "My turn."
You nodded as he settled himself on your bed, now stretching himself fully on the mattress. Lifting your other hand you carefully laid one finger on top of his dolls' throat, before drawing your fingers across and down, over its chest and its sides, making his form shiver and his ears twitch. As you undid the small coat and shirt, dragging your nail gently over the dolls abdomen, Alastor gave a resounding, pleased sigh. You stared at him in wonder of your own work, silently asking yourself if your touches on the fabric in your hands felt as intensified as his did on yours before.
With a spark of nervous excitement you followed a whim of insanity, a quick glance confirming Alastor had his eyes closed. He had never before allowed you to touch his ears - now, their artificial counterparts were at your fingertips, and with a racing heart, you drew a stroke from the base of his ear right across its entire length, all the way until the fine point. A loud, drawn-out groan filled the room and your cheeks burnt crimson when his back arched and his hands twitched towards you, the knuckles white as he clenched them into fists, a tremor going through his shoulders. The groan ended in a long whine, the eyes snapping open and locking right into yours, and your breath hitched as you saw the smoldering embers. His grin grew tighter, strained, and he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and the intensity of his gaze made your stomach drop, your whole body feeling exposed and naked despite still being fully dressed.
"Testy little thing. Always going for most dangerous experiments..." He shook his head as he exhaled slowly, his breath ragged and labored and in the soft illumination of your bedside lamp his neck was dusted a light pink. You marveled for a second, mesmerized. That was, until his tone dropped an octave, making your body snap back to attention, your nipples hardening painfully beneath your clothes. "How about another then, darling. You do that again..." His shadow tendrils shot out from nowhere, wrapping around your waist and thighs and lifting you over his face as you yelped and almost let the doll slip from your hands, the hem of your skirt pushed aside and heated core right above his watering mouth. "...while I do this."
With no time left for a reply, you felt your flimsy panties flicked aside and your body lowered onto his waiting tongue, all thought replaced by a sudden wave of blinding ecstasy. There was something truly addicting about the heat and hunger of his lips, the way they locked around your clit and sucked you down in the best form of torturous pain like life depended on it, his nails digging into your hips with force, while your brain was practically erasing every input but the burning sensation below. The doll in your hands, pressed to your heaving chest, was long forgotten as your head fell back and each swipe of his cursed appendix sent a shockwave through your spine. You groaned, you whimpered, and Alastor could taste the waves of delicious agony on his tongue. When he withdrew, the loss of his wet heat and the chill of the cool air against your slick folds made you almost break out in tears.
"Focus, dearest, on the task I gave you. Or do I have to repeat myself?"
The growl in his voice snapped you out of it and made you take a shaky breath before you finally composed yourself. Your fingers trembled as they grazed the tips of the dolls ears again, your movements almost trance like as your whole body yearned for it to return onto his lips. Alastor's brows furrowed, lips pursed for a second as you drew a slow, sensual line up the miniatures length, stopping and softly kneading at the pointed tip.
"Good girl." he murmured, voice breathy, and for a second you could have sworn you saw his eye twitch, though his grin stayed firmly plastered onto his face. His words sent an instantaneous warmth pooling in your lower stomach, and your chest fluttered as you tried to swallow down the intense elation that shot through your veins at those words - the same words Alastor used when you mastered one of his magical exercises, and although the praise was always flattering, in this context it felt downright lewd and utterly divine to be called that. When your hand lowered a bit, massaging the base of the dolls ears, Alastor's noises became low growls and deep purrs around the wet skin his lips devoured. The black vines on your waist and legs tightened their grip as well, pushing you deeper down onto his mouth.
You hadn't even registered what happened, but with a snap your top was ripped in the front, the clasp of your bra followed, and the familiar humming sound of his static made you squeal in surprise when his voice was suddenly much louder, his tongue shoved into you as far as he could go and his shadows ripping your clothes off at lightning speed. With both hands stroking, massaging and pulling the dolls ears now, the pure pleasure hitting you was almost too much, but as much as your hands ached for the real thing, to run your nails over the red fluff and trace the soft curves and edges of the dark antlers growing on the sides of his head, all you could do was imagine, with all your fingers on the dolls soft material instead and moving furiously up and down its head, to do exactly the same thing.
Alastor growled underneath you, the sound deep and rumbling, sending vibrations through your trembling thighs and against your sensitive skin, and it sounded so much more desperate and disoriented than you had ever heard from him before. Had you been looking down, had you been able to see anything beyond the mind-shattering pleasure, the wide blown pupils and the unfocused gaze in the glowing red irises, you might have wondered why that was - Alastor's control was slipping, and his smile finally was showing that.
In an instant your body was turned and placed on your back, your limbs shaking in the grip of his shadows and body utterly at the mercy of the tall red man leaning over you and undoing his bow tie with the rapidity and precision of a professional magician. His hair had gotten a little ruffled in the process, and his red shirt hung open and wrinkled against his skin.
"A compelling exercise indeed, my dear." he spoke, the rasp in his tone and the ragged breath accentuating his words. With a swift movement his jacket joined the shirt and harness that already had been thrown onto the floor somewhere, and then the shadows were back and prodding against the soaked cloth, the only thing left around your hips. They snuck into every slit they could find, exposing more and more of you, while their owner's gaze hungrily devoured every bit of exposed skin. The stretchable fabric made for easy work, but you had the distinct feeling they wouldn't have needed it at all as the shadows literally dissolved every thread they encountered. Alastor reached for your replica again, seemingly collecting himself and catching his breath.
"You are quite talented, and it'll be a joy to discover what other marvels your mind can come up with." His claw dragged down over the dolls' hips, one set of real, the other set of simulated hands following it a millisecond after, right along your bare and barer sides, sending waves of anticipation down the inside of your thighs. In an instant, two very corporeal, long fingers were back between your folds, knuckle deep into your seeping core, and Alastor chuckled lowly at your surprised whine, the smug and devious purr rumbling in his chest as he took note of every twitch your body made to the tune of his strokes. "But I think it's about time to return the favor though, don't you agree?"
Still stroking that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, the hand that held your puppet glowed in bright green, and in between your moans and pants your wide eyes can't tear themselves from the strange symbols that appear around it, swirling and sparkling. You've seen Alastor perform magic countless of times, have watched and marveled at every spell he cast and his flair for the dramatic was only matched by the elegance of his every motion. But this? This was something else. The nonchalance with which his fingers pumped in and out of you, working meticulously, tactically, teasing you and working you into a mess with such a proficiency while he traced symbols with his free hand and the script, the raw power of it, the surge you could feel radiating from him, all that and his unflinching composure drove you mad with both desire and fascination.
The light and the symbols faded, and in his hands - the puppet, similar yet not quite. It felt off, almost lifelike, the fabric more skin-like, and with a gasp, you saw..
"Let me now see, if my own little contribution can be counted as an improvement, my little witch."
If someone asked you later on what had actually happened, you couldn't have said a single word - it was too salacious, too outrageous, too much outside of what you had ever expected from Alastor. How could you ever recount the way he pulled his throbbing cock out with his free hand - thick, dripping with precum and inhumanly beautiful. How his fingers were guiding your tiny copy to align with its tip, while he never left your eyes, smile almost manic.
He made holes. And seconds later, when he slowly pushed the doll onto his length, with his fingers still buried deep inside you, you knew that they worked. Oh, and how they worked.
"Oh m-my... god..."
It was heaven and hell. Bliss and torture, the feeling abhorrently delicious. The magical connection allowed every ridge, vein and vibration of his cock to transfer perfectly through the dolls body to you, making you shudder and keen at the intensity, the sheer tightness, and simultaneously Alastor groaned - a broken, rugged sound, loud enough to make you glance up with misty eyes from your debauched position. Your insides clenched hard around his fingers and the ghost of his cock, your toes curling as you whimpered, a picture perfect representation of how utterly sinful he looked with his dark lashes resting on his red cheeks, eyes shut and the mouth agape as his chest was rising and falling, breaths coming hard and labored.
He noticed your raptured gaze, looking down at you through hooded eyes, his smile positively obscene.
"Mh, I like the way you pray on me instead of one of your silly deities, darling. But you can call me Alastor."
And oh, how it felt, when his hand closed tightly around the little voodoo doll that was stuffed so full of him. You arched your back and writhed against the firm hold the tentacles had on you, pressing your knees against the pillows as he pulled his drenched fingers out of you, bringing them up to his face to lick them clean. He groaned at the taste, closing his eyes and making an effort to concentrate, his control crumbling in tiny pebbles around you, and his hips started to snap, sheathing the miniature you further on his cock, thrusting in increasingly fast paced movements. A string of whimpers escaped you, his name spilling throughout them like a mantra, as you were unable to do much more but twitch, shake and tremble as his ministrations came faster, harder, and Alastor let his head fall back, baring his neck and swallowing.
"You're so-" He groaned, squeezing your dolls body, forcing it closer against him and sliding it off and back on at an excruciatingly slow pace, your moans climbing and escalating with every inch that moved through the magic veil and in and around your sopping center. "-goddamn perfect, perfectly made for me." Your body didn't know how to react anymore, you stuttered incoherently, everything full with his praise, with this cock that wasn't there but was, the heat that shouldn't have been possible to fill you but did. You felt every bit of skin and fur and sweat and the realization only dawned on you when it was already too late: That you were about to come harder than you ever did, and that Alastor was losing his mind just from watching your reactions to his assault on your doll.
"S-So tight and needy. What a perfect... little... toy you are." If they were meant for you below him or the doll in his hands - you didn't know. But the panted words and almost dirty, explicit praise spilled from his lips in a flurry, every syllable seemed strangely calculated, aimed like a dart straight into you and tearing down all defenses as your pussy twitched helplessly around the sensation of being stretched and fucked open on the image of his cock. When he chuckled and sank your doll to the base, grinding your little figure against him so the head of his cock poked and prodded you where it had never reached before, you all but screamed his name as you came, and your pathetic cries pulled a harsh string of groans and grunts out of the demon towering over you, his breathless cursing and rambled obscenities underlined by the vicious snaps of his hips as he used your simulacrum like a glorified sex toy. His nails pierced the outer layer of the doll as your walls constricted and contracted around the thick nothing as he finished you and himself off into the realm of oblivion.
Everything went white for a moment and when your senses returned, Alastor was carefully cradling you into his arms, the little replica sitting next to his own on your bedside table, their heads almost tenderly leaning on each other. He was gently raking his claws through your damp, disheveled hair, placing little kisses down the back of your neck and on the thin skin behind your ears as he mumbled silent praises against your skin. He kissed along your jaw, gentle as anything, a soft thumb grazing along your lips, cheeks and your temple as he traced the lines of your features until he found the pulse on your neck. The cold touch of his lips was a nice contrast to the hot breath, and you moaned softly at his affectionate gesture.
"It's never a disappointment with you, love, quite the contrary." He hummed, scraping his sharp teeth almost teasingly along the crook of your neck before kissing it, covering your skin with static electricity. "What a marvelous surprise you prepared for me, my dear, truly magical." His lips pressed into yours in a rare kiss, and you leaned back into his naked embrace and smiled, the giddy feeling of accomplishment spreading in your belly and mixing in beautifully with the aftershocks of your orgasm.
"I'm glad... you liked it."
"Oh, that is hardly the phrase I would use," Alastor chuckled as he pulled back, making you blush as his red iris glowed dangerously. "But you, my dear, will have a little work to do, seeing as I'm positively spoiled after this gift. You have no idea of the things I'm thinking about, all the possibilities of what we can accomplish if we put both our minds ā and magic - to it."
Alastor pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing his chin and cheeks across your scalp and shoulders, coating you with a generous amount of his scent as if to mark you before pulling the blankets up and covering the two of you as his arms locked around you possessively, letting you settle against his chest as he hummed a melody you didn't know. But you knew him well enough to know that it was a clear sign of him being absolutely pleased and content.
You smiled, his good mood infectious, and as you glanced to the two dolls that sat together like a matching pair, stripped of their clothes and as close together as you and the real demon were now under the sheets, it made you feel like the cat that ate the canary. The cat had been fed by Alastor, sure. But he had also had his fill and then some, and really... that was all that mattered to you.
#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fraugwinskawrites#quickfic#alastor smut#hazbin hotel smut#magical fucking
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yandere jjk thoughts
warning:: nsfw! iām eighteen and you should be too! hints of kidnapping, non-con, and coercion. nothing is ever really explicitly stated but - still.
a/n: thereās no real rhyme or reason behind this - winter is just my favorite time to snuggle up and read about crazy ppl. also i wrote this in lowercase originally so u see a spot i missed, no u didnt. u can leave requests for different characters if u wanna
Gojo Satoru
In no world could I ever imagine Gojo Satoru treating you like a real human being.
He is the strongest. There is no one who could destroy him. He can see all. And the issue isnāt just that heās the best, itās that heās been told that since the day he opened his bright eyes. He has a big ego and itās justified because there is no one better than him.
And sure heāll indulge you. He'll laugh at your jokes and console you when you cry. But in the back of his mind, in every kiss to your forehead, in every smile, there will always be a domineering aspect. Because he knows that you are insignificant in the grand scheme of the world. you are only important because he deemed you worth something.
Youāre not quite a toy or a pet to him. Youāre more like - an indoor plant to him. Something that needs nurturing from his caring hands, watering and sunlight granted to you by him. You adapt and grow according to his needs and his conditions. But at the same time, you are to be cherished. never handled too roughly, case you begin to wilt. You donāt have to do much but sit and be nurtured and be pretty while he gives you whatever he deems necessary for your survival.
It fascinates him, really, how simple your little life is. How much you donāt know and never will know because as a flower, all you need to understand is that water and sunlight and love are given to you before youāll even realize that you need it.
But you still have a job to be pretty and sometimes thatās sitting on the bed, still, as he observes you or bouncing on his cock. It just depends on the day.
Geto Suguru
Suguru is a calm man, a quiet man. He makes decisions based on logic. He is not exactly one for emotional outbursts, and even at his angriest, he rarely raises his voice.
But you.
A little non-sorcerer that canāt even see curses somehow made him look twice. Little unimportant you constantly runs through his mind. What youāre doing, what youāve eaten, what places youāve gone to. Who youāve talked to, who your friends are. Your hobbies, your interests. Your lips and your eyes and that special something between your legs.
Just thinking about you, even innocently, makes him harden. Itās uncomfortable, itās infuriating, itās maddening.
He thought, surely someone in your family was a sorcerer, a powerful one at that. But no, your family is normal. You are, genetically, as average as they come.
He doesnāt treat you softly at first, doesnāt have a mind to. Youāre a filthy little nothing, after all. When he fucks, he fucks without care. Suguru treats you like a doll, not made of porcelain but made of cloth, one he can throw around and still be in decent condition. He keeps a hand pressed to your mouth, to keep your voice down. A blindfold around your eyes so he doesnāt have to look into them. Your hands are bound behind your back so you don't touch him even by accident. Flat on your stomach, unable to see or feel or say anything is how you find yourself every time. He doesnāt even come inside of you, the only thing youāre grateful for.
Itās scary, how roughly he treats you. But itās downright terrifying when he begins to lay softer hands upon you, begins to kiss instead of bite, caress instead of pinch.
Nanami Kento
He is a very traditional and stern man.
You are, silly, to him. stumbling and bumping and in general, unsure of yourself and what to do. But he sees potential. Even when youāve tripped over thin air or broken something by accident, thereās a certain grace to your movements. A grace he wants to harvest and invest in.
And while he wants to give you direction, he also doesnāt have the patience or time to teach you like he wants. So, itās best to ālearn on the jobā when it comes to Kento.
Learn how to cook his favorite meals and bake the sweets he loves just right. When heās okay with speaking and when he needs quiet. Remembering to kiss him goodbye every morning and remove his coat for him every night.
Learn how to suck his cock right - which vein is most sensitive, when to suckle and gag and slurp, what noises to make, and remember to always always swallow. He hates messes after all.
Learn his favorite positions. The lingerie sets he like best. How loudly he wants you to be. Accept his cum in your tummy with a smile.
Itās not hard - please him and you will be rewarded. Rewarded with pleasure, with time outside, with gentle hands.
And if you stumble or forget, he will easily remind you of your job.
Mahito
Youāre his personal entertainment. Youāre an experiment.
Mahito is incredibly laid-back, even lazy to an extent. He lets you roam and explore and fall. He doesnāt care what you do as long as you stay within the four walls heās placed you in.
It's hard to understand him. For a curse, heās always laughing, finding almost child-like joy in the most odd things. Whether thatās watching an animal documentary or wondering if a humanās neck can extend like the turtles on TV.
One thing you do know is that he likes games and he likes playing with you. The only problem is you donāt when the game starts and ends, the rules or even if youāre playing right. Oftentimes, you find yourself playing a game that you donāt know the rules of and Mahito has named himself the gamekeeper.
He usually starts by asking a question. Something simple like āWhat time did you wake up?ā or āWhat did you eat today?ā. You find out the hard way that no matter what you say, youāre always wrong.
Say you woke up at ten? Then youāll find yourself pressing into the mattress, drooling on your pillow as he drills you, punishing you for waking so late in the day. You had a slice of cake earlier? Then donāt be surprised when youāre in the kitchen licking icing off his cock as punishment for an unhealthy lunch.
Itadori Yuuji
He's the jock that gave you a chance. That made you feel special and pretty and popular.
He's sweet. He gives you his hoodie when youāre cold. He drives you home after school. Buys you lunch when you canāt afford it. Takes you on nice dates.
He wants you sitting front row at all his games, wearing his varsity jacket so everyone knows youāre his girl. He twirls you and kisses you in front of the whole school when he wins, the whole thing right of a cheesy rom-com.
But, surely, you didnāt think he was doing all that for free? No, he wants compensation. He deserves a reward for treating you so sweetly. It's only fair.
It doesnāt matter if youāre ānot readyā. No, no, youāre just nervous, sweetheart. But heāll be gentle with you so calm down. Yeah, calm down when he slides a hand up your skirt on a date to the movies. Be quiet when he asks you for head in the janitorās closet between classes. And donāt make a fuss when he slips his cock inside of you, raw, even though you begged him to use a condom.
āRubbers hurt,ā he says. āIt feels better rawā,ā he pleads. āDonāt worry - I'll pull out.,ā he promises.
And you better be understanding when he comes inside of you. Afterall, heāll buy you a plan b.
Choso
Whatever you do, do not stress this man.
Heās going through enough as is. The last thing he needs from you is any attitude or ungratefulness. Even an upset face will have you with your knees pushed beside your head and Choso making you scream, all while watching you with that same tired expression.
Choso is the oldest of ten siblings. He is used to dealing with bratty behavior. He handles your tantrums with grace - once youāve finished throwing things and screaming, heāll only ask if you're finished. And then he will be upon you.
But, beyond punishment, he is caring and quiet. He prefers it when you speak, likes it when you prattle on about your day or your favorite show. He likes it when youāre happy.
#yandere#yandere jjk#tw yandere#yandere gojo satoru#yandere gojo#yandere geto suguru#yandere geto#yandere mahito#yandere nanami kento#yandere nanami#yandere itadori yuuji#yandere itadori#yandere choso#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#rottenomelet
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ebb and flow.
yandere!floyd leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, nsfw, stepcest, obsession, getting high/use of edibles, reader is implied to have small breasts, octavinelle trio is human in this story, au with no magic, brief mention of alcohol use, brief mention of implied somnophilia, reader and trio are 18 in the last scene of the story (in case it isn't clear) note - like the tide, floyd's interests ebb and flow. you happen to be more than a passing fancy.
When heās old enough to put his thoughts into words, Floyd declares, rather obnoxiously, that girls are gross and he wants nothing to do with them.
āAll they ever wanna do is talk about dolls and dresses,ā he laments, scuffing his shoe against the cobbles.
āYou know Iām a girl, right?ā You scoff and turn your nose up, mildly offended. āAnd not all girls are like that. Iām not like that.ā
And itās true. You give as good as you get. You lunge after Floyd when he yanks your favorite toys out of your hands or when he tugs on your hair, every infraction intentional. He knows just how to rile you up enough for you to give chase. Youāre keen to wrestle him in the mud on rainy days in the same way heās willing to race you up and down the streets to prove outlandish points.
Growing up with two brothersāthough they arenāt your family by blood, referring to them as your step-brothers is a knotty mouthful you prefer to avoidātaught you things you never would have learned if you had a sister.
Perhaps their presence served to stoke the fires of playful violenceāmeaningless quarrels that were resolved in a matter of minutes, often punctuated with halfhearted apologies. Once, in the middle of a particularly nasty brawl, you kicked Floyd in the jaw and knocked his front tooth free. Morbidly amused, Jade applauded you for the show. Floyd held his bruised face in one hand, glaring viciously as blood dribbled from his lips. He reeled his arm back, but it never landed. Your father chewed the lot of you out before he could throw the punch.
āWhat are we going to do with you?ā your mother would say while she patched the both of you up. āAlways fighting like thisā¦ Thatās not very nice now, is it?ā
The twinsā mother died shortly after giving birth and so they never knew the concept of a mother until five years later when their father remarried. It was then when you joined their family of three, and the twins had taken to their new mother like fish in water. Adoringly, they would tug on her skirt and demand attention. She was all too happy to indulge them, lifting them into her arms one at a time.
āYou know that means Mama and me, donāt you?ā you add, skipping ahead of him.
āThatās different. Mama doesnāt count. Sheās special.ā
āWhat about me?ā
Floyd takes one look at you and smiles that mean, mocking smile. āYouāre even worse. Youāve got girl germs.ā
You donāt bother granting him a head start. Heās already running.
On the cusp of a growth spurt, his face peppered in pimples, Floyd is only fifteen when you chase him out of your bedroom.
āGet out! Get out! Get out!ā Your piercing shrieks and Floydās raucous laughter echo through the halls, drawing the perpetually curious Jade out of his room like a worm from an apple core.
Heās greeted with the sight of Floyd, who has clasped your bra around his head and is now parading about proudly. A plush octopus flies after him and smacks into the wall. Seconds later, you burst from your room with embarrassment painted on your face.
āOh my.ā Jade observes the scene unfold from behind his fist. His mismatched eyes glitter with mischief.
āYouāre so tiny! Your boyfriendās gonna fall in love with a shrimp!ā Floyd sticks his tongue out at you. āShrimpy (Name)! Shrimpy (Name)! Iāve got a shrimp for a sis!ā
āThatās not funny, and Azulās not my boyfriend!ā You reach for him, but he avoids you with an agile sidestep. āKnock it off! Give it back!ā
āBut it fits me better.ā
āIt does not!ā You turn to Jade and gesture wildly at Floyd, who is now batting his lashes like a princess. āDonāt just stand there! Help me out.ā
āOh, Iām afraid Iām much more suited to the sidelines. I wouldnāt want to interrupt your fun.ā
You grit your teeth. āYou assāā
āSo much noise! What in the world is going on here?ā
Your mother makes her way up the stairs just as Floyd tugs the bra off his head. You round on her before the twins can.Ā
āMooom, Floydās being gross. He stole my bra and wonāt give it back.ā
āHuuuh. No way. Sheās totally framinā me. I donāt have her bra.ā Floyd folds his arms over his chest, feigning innocence. āThatās just icky. Why would I have it anyway?ā
āIndeed,ā Jade agrees coyly, pretending to search for it. āNo bra in sight.ā
āYouāre liarsāyou and Jade!ā You sneer at them. They merely smile angelically. āIāll kick both of you in your dicks if you donātāā
ā(Name), mind your language!ā Sighing, your mother issues both boys a stern frown. āFloyd, sweetheart, itās not nice to tease your sister. You as well, Jade. Return what you stole and apologize.ā She bends down to retrieve the fallen plush and passes it to you. āYou too, (Name). Youāre family. Family shouldnāt fight.ā
āI donāt owe him an apology.ā
āAnd I donāt have her bra.ā
āHeās lying! Floyd was in my room, digging through my clothes.ā
āNuh-uh.ā
āYeah-huh!ā
Jade smiles wide enough to reveal the braces on his teeth. āNow that (Name) mentions it, I did see Floyd sneaking about. Oh, but maybe thatās not right. I only caught a glimpse, after all.āĀ
Floyd has no reason to look so betrayed. Jade oscillates between sides whenever it sates his hunger for amusement. Today, as luck would have it, heās on your side. For now.
āIf youāre as innocent as you claim, surely thereās no reason to keep your arms clasped behind your back.ā
āYou really donāt have anyoneās back, do you?ā
āFloydā¦ā Your mother looks at him expectantly, her eyes soft despite her tone.
He thrusts his arm out and drops your bra. āFine. Take it back. Wasnāt havinā any fun with it anyways.ā
āHonestly, youāre such a pervert,ā you snap, swiping it from the floor. āNext time you wanna come in my room, youād better knock first. How would you like it if I went into your and Jadeās room and stole one of your shirts?ā
He sticks his tongue out at you, defiant like the brat he is. If your mother wasnāt standing behind you, youād have exacted your revenge right then.
ā(Name), be nice to your brother. Floyd, apologize to your sister.ā
Floyd doesnāt look you in the eyes when he spits a mean-sounding, āSorry.ā
Jade can only snicker, feasting on this live entertainment like itās the richest meal.
āAnd Iām sooo sorry youāre annoying and everyoneās gotta put up with you.ā With an exasperated huff, you strut back into your room and slam the door shut. It locks with a loud click.
āGive her some time. She just needs to cool down,ā you hear your mother explain. āBut, really, you should know better, Floyd. Itās not right to go into anyoneās room and take their things.ā
āI would never do something so egregious, Mother,ā Jade admits, which you find hard to believe because heās just as sly, if not more so, than his twin.
āSheās just mad Iām funnier than her,ā Floyd says. A blatant falsehood if youāve ever heard one.
You could never understand Floydās obsession with your laundry. Maybe he was just your typical hormone-addled teenager with nothing better to do but fantasize about women and their undergarments, and seeing as you were the only girl he was close toāboth in age and as siblingsāwho else could bear the brunt of his delinquency?
Or it had nothing to do with that at all, and he was just determined to be as much of a pest as possible.
Back then, that made sense.
Back then, you were foolish.
Back then, you didnāt know. No one did. Not really.
Lying between your brothers, lost in thought, you stare at the plastic stars and planets pasted to your ceiling. A dulcet adagio trickles out of the tiny speaker on your bedside table. The honeyed vocals soften the static in your brain, snuffing every burden with beautiful bossa nova. You soak in every lyric, imagining yourself in the singerās position: falling for someone in midnight blue, blooming beneath their touch, your dress falling to your ankles, exploring each otherās shorelinesā¦
The fantasy floats away as soon as Floyd opens his mouth, and youāre brought back to reality. No lover in your arms. No midnight blue. No flowering feelings. No dress.
āWhenās this stuff supposed to kick in? I donāt feel a thing.ā
āPatience,ā Jade murmurs, practically melting into the mattress. āYouāll know once it happens.ā
āWell, I donāt. Your shit sucks.ā
āAs does your attitude.ā
āWhatever.ā Floyd snuggles closer to you, pulling your arm into his chest. āWhat about you, Shrimpy? You feel it yet?ā
āMmh, sortaā¦ I dunno. Donāt call me that.ā
āOnce a shrimp, always a shrimp.ā
āI did offer the other half.ā
āIāll take it if I feel like it.ā You shake Floyd off and pout at Jade. āMom and Dadāll lose it if they find out, you know.ā
Jade flashes his teeth at you in a cheeky grin. āIām counting on you to be a sweet, dependable sister and keep my little secret safe.ā
āLips are sealed.ā
āWhat a good pet you are. So obedient.ā
You exhale a soft, gasping laugh. āYouāre so weird.ā
āBut youāre smiling.ā
āOnly because youāre weird!ā
He giggles and leans in close, his nose brushing yours. When he speaks again, itās in a softer tone, near-hypnotic. āSo you do feel it.ā
āMaybe.ā
With a petulant whine, Floyd presses himself against you from behind. āNo fair. I wanna be all silly like you and Jade. Gimme the other half. Iāll take it right now.ā
āYou can grab it.ā
āYouāre closer.ā
āAlasā¦ My limbs are lead.ā
āAsshole,ā Floyd gripes, leaning over you and Jade to swipe the box from the bedside table. He often keeps his stash there. Sometimes itās stocked with gummy edibles or mushrooms, all wrapped in plastic. Jadeās resourceful like a squirrel, crafty in ways you canāt fathom.
Today, youāre holed up in your room because you have a bigger bed. There are fairy lights strung up on the walls, providing the space with just enough dimness for you to see your surroundings. Itās the perfect ambience for this slow, lazy Saturday in November. Your parents are out for the afternoon and wonāt be back until later, and you couldnāt be any happier to have the house to yourself.
As soon as the door shut, you exchanged knowing looks with your brothers and hurried back to your room. Jade told you heād take you and Floyd to his favorite spot in the forest after midterms and then the lot of you could truly kick back and relax with some pre-rolls. Heād invite Azul and make it a picnic in the woods. A whole day filled with fun. In your heart, it would be a date. Your brothers would just be the unwanted third and fourth wheels.
Really, you could care less about getting high. Azul is more than a drugāheās oxygenāand you crave him like an addict feens for a fix. Floyd thinks your crush on him is stupid and misplaced. You beg to differ. Youāve admired him since childhood. How could you possibly fall out of love now?
Floyd flops back into the empty space beside you, chewing the rest of the gummy worm. His arm drapes across your waist. āWhatāre we doinā tomorrow?ā
āIām going to the library to study with Azul.ā
āLame.ā
āYouāre not invited.ā You roll over on your side to address him, speaking slowly. āDonāt show up.ā
āNow I kinda want to. I wanna see what you and Azul get up to.ā
āStudying.ā
āMmh, I doubt that.ā Jade sticks to you like moss, his eyes fluttering shut. āAzulās studying, at least. Youāre daydreaming.ā
āNot my fault heās cute.ā
āIām cuter.ā Floydās lips turn down in a disappointed moue. āAināt I cute?ā
āNo way. Youāre ugly.ā
āIām inclined to agree.ā
āNo one asked you, Jade. āSides, aināt that basically the same as sayinā youāre ugly, too?ā
āI dunno,ā he mumbles dumbly, the words muffled in your shoulder. āWhat do you think, (Name)?ā
āGet yourself a girlfriend and then you can ask her.ā
āWonāt you be my stand-in girlfriend?ā
āYeah, thatās good.ā Floyd curls his fingers around the strap of your tank top. He tugs it up and down your arm in a languid rhythm. Youāre floating amongst the clouds, your mind filled with a pleasant fuzz, so scolding him isnāt a priority. āForget about beinā our sis for a sec.ā
āGet lost.ā
āHow coldā¦ā Jade sniffles.
āShrimpyās ruthless.ā
āStop calling me that.ā
Floydās hand crawls across your chest to grope you through your shirt. āMmh, nope. Still small.ā
āAm not.ā
āAre too.ā
āAm not.ā
āI think youāre sized just right.ā Jadeās spidery digits creep along your hip and splay across your stomach. āAzul wonāt even notice. He doesnāt pay attention to your assets like we do.ā
āI wish he would.ā You meet Jadeās half-lidded stare. āDoes he talk about me?ā
āIn what context? Youāll need to be specific,ā he purrs, and if you werenāt swimming in bliss youād elbow him in the mouth.
Itās like pulling teeth with Jade. He makes things so irritatingly difficult for no reason.
āYou know the context.ā
āSometimes he says stuff,ā Floyd replies instead. He rests his head in the crook of your neck and inhales the sugary notes of your perfume.
āGood stuff?ā
Vibrating with a woozy warmth, you squirm between your brothers. Itās stifling being in the middle of their sandwich, but the proximity is pleasing. Comfortable. Reassuring. You feel like an anchored ship between the both of them, safely pinned down amidst the tumultuous waves of your bedsheets. You sigh dreamily when Floydās legs twine around yours.
āHe thought your sweater was real cute.ā
āWhich one?ā
āAll of āem.ā
āHmm. Okay.ā But that doesnāt satisfy you. āWhat type of girl is he into?ā
āWhy donāt you make him your boyfriend? Then you can find out,ā Jade says.
He aims for a sharp smile and falls short. It mellows out into something stupid and lopsided. He thinks heās the funniest creature on the planet, and in this moment he is because the retort has you snowballing into a fit of giggles.
āMaybe I will.ā
Floyd tracks your throat as it bobs with every swallow. He glances at your jaw next, at the glitters speckled on your cheeks. They sparkle like miniature stars, an entire galaxy imprinted on your skin. āYouāre wearinā makeup.ā
āHm?ā
āPerfume, too. Smells good.ā
āI bought some when I went to the mall.ā
āWhen?ā
āLast week? Two weeks ago? I canāt remember.ā
āYou doinā it for Azul?ā
āWho else? Certainly not you.ā
Floyd scowls at Jade. āDonāt answer for her. I wanna hear it from her.ā
āYouāre my brother. Why would it be for you?ā you mumble, more confused than unsettled.
Obviously itās for Azul.
āWhy not? Itās not fair other guys get to see ya lookinā this good. Why should I be excluded just cuz Iām your brother?ā
His lips drag against your neck. Thereās nothing special about his affection. Itās dubiously platonic, but youāre used to it. Heās always been prone to expressing himself through physical means. Too-tight hugs, pecks on the cheek, a gentle squeeze in clasped hands. It was cute when you were children, but now youāre seventeen and itās getting harder to explain his clingy nature.
āI donāt care what other guys think.ā
āJust Azul?ā Jade prompts, toying with the hem of your top. His fingers slide beneath it to prod at your navel, and suddenly Azul is no longer the most important part of this conversation. āHave you ever considered piercing it?ā
āWhat? My belly button?ā
āOoh, good idea. You could match jewelry with us. How about it? Iāll getcha some sturgeon scales.ā
āMomāll kill me.ā
āIn that case, weāre both dead.ā
You blink at Jade, searching for the meaning in his mismatched hues. He opens his mouth, unfurling his tongue to reveal the venom piercing. The shock washes over you like a wave, and just as itās receding it hits youāwhat youāre looking at.
āYour tongue! You actuallyāsince when?ā
āTwo weeks.ā
āWhat the hell! Why didnāt you tell me? I wouldāve come with. Moral support and stuff.ā
He laughs when you nudge him. āIt wasnāt so bad. Iād like to get more.ā
āDoes Dad know?ā
āNot at all.ā
āDangerous.ā
āThrilling,ā he corrects, a minacious glint in his gaze.
āJadeās changinā up his whole look. Super cool, aināt it?ā
āAnd what about you?ā You turn over towards Floyd. His hands settle on your lower back. He all but tugs you away from Jade, who frowns and shuffles closer until his hips press against your ass. You feel his mouth at your bare shoulder, lavishing it with little pecks. āDo you want more piercings?ā
āYou into guys with piercings?ā
āI donāt really care. Piercings are great. Tattoos, too.ā
āThen Iāll get a tattoo.ā
āSo itās settled. (Name) will pierce her navel, and Floyd will get a tattoo.ā
āSure,ā you agree, but you donāt expect anything to come out of it. Just a random idea thrown around in the haze of your high.
Youāre closer than family should be, but thatās the last thing on your mind when youāre twisted between them. This is normal. At least, itās the normal youāve grown up with.
What isnāt normal, though, is Floydās insistence that he ought to shape himself into the man of your dreams when, clearly, the man of your dreams goes by the name of Azul Ashengrotto. But youāre not worried. Itās always said in jest, or you assume itās in jest.
In the back of your mind, you wonder if Azul would like you more if you had a pretty piercing to show off.
Youāre weeks away from prom when Azul says yes.
āWaitā¦ Really? Seriously?ā
āI was under the impression we were all going,ā he says with that charismatic chuckle you love dearly. āAs a group, yes?ā
Your hopes plummet alongside pieces of your heart. āOh. Y-Yeah, right. A group. Of course.ā
āI do appreciate the poster, though.ā He holds it up as if itāll reveal a secret message when caught in the sun. The cartoon octopus you spent hours sketching, lining, and coloring smiles back at him. āāIt would be so tenta-cool if you could be the sea to my shore at prom.ā How ingeniously cheesy.ā
Your laughter is hollow. Thatās the last time Iām asking Jade for advice on ocean puns.
āIām glad you think soā¦ Hey, youāre coming over before the dance, right? Weāre thinking of doing something.ā
āA party before the party?ā Azul rolls the poster up and carefully fits it into his messenger bag. It sticks out from under the flap. āIām not opposed. What did you have in mind?ā
āWe could get dinner.ā Just the two of us. āWhatever you want, really. My dadās planning to send us there in a limo. Real classy, yāknow.ā
Azul falls into step with you. āIf thatās the case, we might as well go all out.ā
Sensing an in, you stare at him. āThe girls in my class are going on and on about how promās gotta be this magical thing. It canāt get more magical than a fancy car.ā
āGoodness. Itās really not that special. You canāt exactly put āProm Queenā on your resume now, can you?ā
āNo, but you can make lots of memories. So I was thinkingāhypothetically, of courseāif youād wanna go as, like, my fake date. Like, weāre going as a group and everything, but if you want we could get flowers for each other and match outfits andā¦ B-Basically, Iām just trying to see if thereās any merit to what theyāre saying about prom. About it being magical with a date.ā
āHmā¦ Thatās true. It will be our final social event before we graduate and go out into the world. Our last chance to say and do whatever weāve neglected in previous years.ā
āRight.ā
āI wouldnāt mind.ā His stare is fixed firmly on the path ahead. āHypothetically speaking, of course.ā
āSoā¦ā You swallow your anxieties; your heart is in your throat. āSo youāll be my hypothetical date?ā
āI would be honored.ā
āOkay. A-All rightā¦ Yeah! Great!ā
Azulās pretty blues briefly flick over to you. His cheeks are tinged pink. āWonderful. Iā¦ Iām pleased weāve worked this out. All hypotheticals, naturally.ā
āYeah, definitely. Just hypothetical.ā
āDidā¦you have a color in mind? Have you picked a dress yet?ā
āSomething pink or purple. Maybe red. Iām not really sure.ā
āBlue would be very flattering on you.ā As an afterthought, he scrambles to add, āBut thatās just another hypothetical.ā
You watch the way he wrings the strap of his bag. āI agree. Blueās a good color.ā
āIsnāt it?ā
āI could wear you.ā You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth, even more so when Azul raises a bewildered brow. āB-Because your nameāno, sorry. Thatās dumb. I donāt mean it in the crazy-murderer-who-skins-you-alive way. I meant in the way thatās likeāā
āCheek to cheek?ā
āYeah. No, yeah, thatās right.ā
What am I saying? None of this makes any sense.Ā
Azul laughs and nudges you playfully. āYou can wear me. Hypothetically, Iām your date to the dance. Itās only right that I act as your accessory for the evening.ā
āThenā¦ T-Then letās be each otherās garments!ā
He hums his approval and the conversation dies there.
You make the rest of the walk out of school in awkward silence. At the gates, Azul turns to you.
āNone of this is hypothetical, is it?ā
You heave a relieved breath. āNot at all.ā
āThen allow me to do away with pretending. Iāll be your prom date. Factually.ā
āMy factual prom dateā¦ā
āItā¦doesnāt sound as smooth as a hypothetical.ā
āBut itās real.ā
He smiles shyly. āThat it is.ā
On the night of prom, alone in an empty corridor, Floyd yanks you into a rough kiss. The music from the ballroom is so loud you can faintly hear it from down the hall. It pulses through you with energetic vibrations, joining your panic in an unsteady duet. You push at Floydās chest, struggling against the wall he has you pinned to. He breaks off halfway just to savor your gasp before moving in to reclaim your mouth. Itās a ravenous action. He kisses you like he intends to devour you, licking and nipping at every possible crevice. His teeth click against yours as he endeavors to taste the wine at the back of your throatācourtesy of sneaky, rebellious Jade and his discreet water bottle.
Finally, after gathering enough strength, you shove him off of you. He stumbles, hurt flashing across his face. Ferociously hot up to your ears, your heart stumbling in your rib cage, you canāt believe it. You donāt want to believe it.
That wasnāt realā¦ No wayā¦
Still processing it, you smudge your lipstick when you wipe the drool from your mouth.
You and Floyd watch each other in silence. Youāre waiting for him to break it. Heās waiting for you to run away.
āWhatā¦was that?ā
āYou were cozyinā up to Azulāā
āBecause heās my date!ā
āYeah, but youāShrimpy, cāmon, you know we agreed to go as a groupā¦ā
āAnd so what? That doesnāt give you the right to kiss me. I was going toāI had an entire plan for this. Azul was gonna be my first kiss!ā
āWell, now heās gonna hafta be second.ā
You sputter in shock. āYouāyouāre soā¦ I justā¦ Wow.ā
Floydās face hardens and softens and then hardens again. He looked like a kicked puppy a few minutes ago, cowardly and small, but now thereās determination smoldering in his stare.
āI like ya. I like ya a whole lot.ā You open your mouth to protest, but he beats you to it. āMore than a sister.ā
And there it isāthe truth you couldnāt confront.
Your frustration withers and blooms anew in a complicated tangle of weeds. āYouā¦like me. Likeā¦ Like me, like me?ā
Floyd cards a hand through his slicked hair and exhales a heavy breath. āI meanā¦ Itās obvious, aināt it?ā
āFloyd, Iā¦ Iām sorry, but I like Azul. You know this.ā Now itās your turn to cut him off before he can speak. āYouāre family, Floyd. My brother.ā
āSo what?ā
āItās wrong, thatās what! Weāre family. Thatās all weāve ever beenā¦ LookāI donāt have time for this. Azul and Jade are gonna wonder where we went. We can talk about this tomorrow.ā
You brush past him, hoping to leave this conversation here and pick it up after the dance. But Floyd wonāt have that. He seizes your wrist and tugs you around.
āJustā¦ā He avoids your stare. āJust hear me out, okay? I just wanna love ya.ā
āSo love me like a normal brother.ā You try to pull yourself free, but he holds firm. āI really donāt have time to argue. Actually, this isnāt something I should have to argue in the first place.ā
āWeāre not related in that way. Itās fine, isnāt it?ā He grabs your waist and drags you close.
āMom and Dad wonāt think so. Azul wonāt. Honestly, Floyd, let it go. Weāll talk later. Please justāā
āYou really donāt get it, do you?ā
You inhale slowly, forcing yourself to remain calm. āNo, I donāt. I really donāt.ā
āIāve wanted ya longer than Azulāthan Jade. Longer than anyone. And I never got to have ya.ā Floyd plasters you to the wall again, but this time he slots a knee between your thighs. āDrove me crazy every time I saw ya walkinā around the house in those stupid shorts or when youād bring your friends over and youād wear that stupid nightgown. The soft one with the lace and bows. The one thatās so thin it shows your shrimpy tits.ā
Your glower is so blistering it could melt him down to his bones. āYouāre disgusting.ā
āMaybe.ā He laughs, but it isnāt funny. āDidja know? I wanted to kiss you in your sleep. Touch you all over. Stick my fingers in you and watch you squirmā¦ Feel how tight you are when you cling to my cock. Youāre still a virgin, ainātcha? Azul hasnāt done it with you yet, right?ā
You yelp when his hand slips under the ruffles of your dress and climbs up your thigh. āW-Waitāstop! Donātāā
āGonna take that as a no.ā
āFloydāā
āSee? Canāt you say my name instead of his? You donāt gotta daydream with me around. Iāll make you feel good. You donāt need that stupid dildo when youāve got me.ā
His fingers press against the outline of your pussy, teasing you through the fabric. Your body goes rigid. āY-You canātā¦ Not here. Someone might see.ā
āLet āem. Then theyāll know youāre all mine.ā Floyd noses your throat and deflates against you, hedonistic and selfish. āYou always smell so fuckinā good. Like candy. Sweet and yummy. Makes me wanna bite you and never let go. Taste your shrimpy heartbeat in my mouthā¦ā
āS-Seriouslyā¦ā You squeeze your eyes shut and bite back a whimper when he squeezes your clit. āGet off of me. You canātāyouāre my brother.ā
āNah. Brothers donāt go around stealinā their sisterās stuff and usinā it to get off, do they?ā
It occurs to you that you should be furious with him. He deserves more than just your ire. Instead, you can only feel intoxicated as you listen to him ramble filth.
āRemember that pair of panties you thought was clean? The ones with the stain.ā
āYeah, the ones I use when Iām on my periodāā
āNot those. The other one.ā
āW-Whatāā You slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your gasp. He rubs you in slow, deliberate circles. With dimming focus, you try to think of anything elseāof boring, bland thingsāto fight off mounting arousal. āWhat about it?ā
āI had that pair wrapped around my dick before you put āem on.ā
āSo that wasāthe stain wasāā
āMhm.ā
āEw! Youāre the worst! That was my favorite pair, Floyd!ā
He snickers. āAt least it wasnāt you. My old manāll beat my ass if I knock ya up. Had to use the next best thing.ā
āUse your hand, dumbass! Donāt use my stuff!ā
āThen stop fuckinā yourself on your dildo. I hear you through the bathroom door, yāknow. Moaninā like youāre in heat. All of it for Azul. I wanted to come in and help ya out every time, but I couldnāt. And that really ate at me.ā
āI donāt want your help,ā you spit, glaring.
āNo? But youāre so wet. I think my fingers will slip riiight in.ā He pulls your panties to the side and prods at your folds. āYou wanna test it?ā
You shake your head a second too late. Floydās already pushing two fingers inside. The breath sticks in your throat. Heās actually doing this, right here in the open. Someone could turn down the hall and spot you. That someone could beā
āA-Azul might catch us. Stop. You really canātā¦ā
āAww. What? Donāt want Azul seeinā you like this? Donāt want him to see the mess youāre making? Donāt want him knowing you like being wrapped around your brotherās fingers?ā
Heās mean when he curls them suddenly, a brute and a bully all at once. They press against wet, velvety walls, and the noisy squelch leaves you shuddering. You breathe heavily, little huffs that tremble sweetly as he stretches you out.
āS-Shut up. Youāre a pervert.ā
āThat makes two of us.ā
You yank him closer by his tie, intending to be threatening and failing. āIām gonna kill you.ā
āSure you are.ā
Without warning, he reaches for your chest and yanks your strapless dress down to reveal your breasts. Your perky nipples poke out against the lingerie tape. He whistles lowly while he marvels at them.
āStill the same pair of shrimpy tits.ā
āNuh-uh. I went up a size.ā
āYeah-huh. I would know. I steal your bras all the time. Same cup size, Shrimpy.ā
āSo youāre depraved and shameless.ā
āNo reason to hide it anymore.ā
He drags his fingers out and thrusts them back in. You choke on a stifled moan. Deep down in a logical corner of your brain, you know you shouldnāt submit so easily. Itās wrong, but you canāt stop the pleasure that washes over you with every stroke of his fingers. It sends pleasant bolts of bliss up your spine. Your knees wobble, and your thighs are sticky with your slick. When he grinds his thumb against your clit, forcefully insistent, something in your stomach snaps. You come undone in an instant, crashing against a sinful shore. Orgasm wracks through you in a powerful tremor, shaking the thoughts in your skull like a disturbed ecosystem in a terrarium.
Unrelenting, he fucks you through it. Youāre boneless in the aftermath, chest heaving and mind reeling.
Floydās fingers glide out with ease, shimmering with your juices. He puts them in his mouth to savor the taste of you, his tongue slithering between the space of both digits. Horrifyingly, you admire him as he licks himself clean. Even though you shouldnāt, you wish desperately to feel that muscle inside you, working you towards another grand peak.
āThat wasnāt so bad, was it?ā
Youāre still in a daze when Floyd fixes your panties and dress. You look presentable, if not slightly debauched. Your makeup is a mess, and Floydās all too eager to fix it for you. You stand still when he wipes at the corner of your mouth with his thumb and then carefully applies lipstick. Within no time, youāre back to how you were.
āLookinā good,ā he praises, stuffing the tube in his pocket. āThe prettiest Shrimpy at the party. They should make you Prom Queen.ā
You swat at him. āDonātā¦ā And then you sigh. What does it matter? Heās going to call you that regardless of what you think.
Thankfully, the slow dance is only just beginning when you return. You find Azul lingering near the wall, tapping anxiously at his phone. Jadeās also there. Physically. You canāt say the same for his head. Heās taking a trip in his own mental paradise. Floyd stalks after you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. If you didnāt just squirt around his fingers minutes ago, you wouldāve assumed the atmosphere of the party was to blame for his euphoria. But you know the real reason.
Azul doesnāt, though.
So itās with a guilty heart when you lead him onto the dance floor for a waltz.
Your childhood crushāthe guy youāve loved more than life itselfāis right in front of you, looking at you like youāve hung the stars, but the only one you can think of is your step-brother.
That canāt be a good sign.
Floyd joins Jade in his corner. He gazes through him and offers his water bottle. Itās nerdy enough for its contents to be unassuming, what with its mushroom print, but Floyd knows better than to take it at face value. Even so, he grabs hold of it and downs whatās left of the wine. Itās so sweet it sticks to the roof of his mouth.
āAzulās not staying the night, is he?ā
āIām not sure.ā Jade finds you and Azul in the crowd of dancers and hums. āHow cruel of you to want to separate them.ā
āHeās not gettinā laid tonight if thatās what he thinks. Not if I can help it.ā
āI donāt think he even knows how.ā
Floyd laughs. āNah. He knows.ā
āDoes he now?ā
āCāmon, Jade. He undresses her every time he looks at her.ā
āI suppose so.ā He smiles moonily, distracted. āSheāll never let you.ā
āShe wonāt let you either.ā
āI donāt mind a little pain. To be bloodied and bruised by her gentle handsā¦ I know of no greater exhilaration.ā
Floyd rolls his eyes. āAzulās got it lucky. He gets to hug and kiss her whenever he wants. Meanwhile, Iāve gotta pretend like I donāt wanna fuck her shrimpy brains out every time I get a whiff of her perfume.ā
āThe odds arenāt very favorable, but I suspect youāve already had your fun.ā
Floyd grins wickedly. āSheās cute. I couldnāt help it.ā
āI must agree. She sounds sweetest when sheās caught in the throes of pleasure.ā
Floyd starts to nod and then pauses. āHow do you knowāā
āOh my. It appears Iāve said too much.ā
āNo, no. Keep talkinā. You havenāt said nearly enough.ā
āYouāre not her only brother, you know.ā
Floyd thinks thereās more to that sentence, but Jade isnāt willing to get into the details. Not here, at least. He doesnāt have to pry too deeply to understand the hidden implications.
āAsshole. You went and did it before I could.ā
āI donāt know what youāre talking about.ā Jade giggles. āA little midnight snacking never hurts. Sheās soft and snug inside. Very warm.ā
Floyd shoves him away. āFuck off.ā
As long as itās not Azul, he thinks, watching him as he spins you like a gentleman. Anyone but him.
#yandere twst#yandere twst x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere floyd leech#yandere floyd x reader#yandere floyd leech x reader#yandere floyd#n/sfw#tw: stepcest#tw: dubcon
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Donāt Say Love || Rafe Cameron x reader
summary: you notice Rafe is different in the mornings, softer in someways. Definitely not in others
word count: 2.1k
warnings: 18+ smut, wouldnāt consider anything in here a OBX3 spoiler
authorās note: this oneās pretty short and sweet. enjoy :)
Propped up only by my own elbow and a tangle of his limbs, I caress his timelessly drawn face. There's a half smile underneath my fingers, and I pass my index finger over his mouth. My finger ventures past his lips, pushing them aside to reveal glossy white teeth. Rafe reels his head back slightly as to ward off my ridiculous ministrations.
"What are you doing?" His tone verges on the rhetorical side, obviously possessing little interest in entertaining whatever I'm up to but willing to amuse me for now. It's the least he could do after being inside me just a few hours ago.
Nevertheless, I am relentless, as with all things in life and when he returns to my reach, rather than answering him, I pursue my venture again. This time he allows it, his lip curling upwards to indulge me further. My finger runs along the slick gloss of his pearly teeth ā teeth that have both scraped along the tender skin of my throat and aligned on occasion to remind me of just what made him so attractive. I rather adored his pristinely bleached smile and it's viscous canines.
"I love you," I whisper to him. It means no more than the obscenities that I moaned into his mouth last night as he ground his hips into me. It's not a dramatic proclamation of my affection for him, nor a confession in the slightest. I justāI like him. I like him differently than I have ever liked anyone else.
He breaks into a smile and scoffs, almost laughing as he falls backs onto the mattress. "Don't say that," he admonishes gently.
I bite the bottom of my lip to keep from laughing myself. This whole thing was ridiculous. Turning to catch his gaze again, we smile at each other, lips pressed together to convey what we won't say out loud. Something inside me knows he won't be this way tomorrow. He won't share this same look with me, won't be this gentle or placid again.
The thing is, I would go all in if he let me. Would place all my cards on the table if he said he wanted me to. He needs a four? Sure, I've got a four. What else? I would willingly give him everything.
Laying in his bed together the morning after a party is an occurrence that has become more and more common over the past month. Admittedly a welcome one. We're not a item, probably never will be, but it's nice to think that he's mine for now.
With Rafe, things between us are so utterly simple. I don't think I've ever had so much fun with one person. And it's not even that he's so entirely special or even the love of my life. He's cocky and charming and a bit of a jerk at times, but I like that about him.
Sometimes, while we're laying in the darkness together, he tells me that if he had grown up differently he would be less of a nervous wreck and more honest. I tell him that I grew up mostly alone, in a small little house with my alcohol obsessed father, who was still growing up himself when he became a dad. That nothing was ever enough, but how was I supposed to know the difference? I tell him that his family is alright because at least he has siblings and a father who loves him, even if that love is questionable.
He smiles softly and pulls my hand away from his mouth, kissing the palm of it tenderly. His lips grace the inside of my wrist and warmth spreads through my naked body. I slip my leg over his waist, pulling myself on top of him. The white sheets that have been doing very little to cover our bareness slip further down my waist ā I am sure much to his enjoyment. His broad chest expands as he breathes in, and I watch the steady rise and fall of it.
"Quit doing that."
"Doing what?" he asks, his voice still gruff with sleep, wondering what I could possibly be on about this time.
"That panty-dropping smile. It's ridiculous."
Twinkling, his blue eyes gaze up at me, as if storing the image of me to his memory. His billowy white shirt is barley enough to cover the top of my thighs from where I'm straddled over him, pining his hips to the plush mattress. The light coming in from the early morning sun seeps in through the curtains, slowly swallowing everything in his bedroom whole and washing us in gold.
"It worked, didn't it?" he chuffs, lazily sliding a warm palm up my bare thigh. Timidly, he hooks a finger on the edge of the sheet bunched around my waist and tugs it back slightly. Without an ounce of shame, his eyes dip down to indulge in my bareness. "God, you're so fucking sexy," he groans, his head falling back onto the pillow for dramatic effect.
Laughing, I lean down to kiss his puffy lips, and he graciously meets me part of the way. I pull away to press my lips to his chin, and then his jaw, and then his collar bone, spending no more time on the next than the first until I reach his shoulder. This time, I kiss the firm muscle there, lingering to drag my nose along his skin. His scent engulfs me ā manly, with the lingering traces of expensive cologne and the musk of sex.
With all the tenderness that I can muster, I attach my lips to the hollow of his throat, close my eyes and breathe him in. I want to remember him. All of him. My tongue smooths across his salty skin, working to soothe the already bruising flesh. Beside my ear, the swallow of his throat echos clearly, but he doesn't budge beneath me. His skin tastes salty and raw, unsullied by the usual cleanly redolence of woody soap and washing detergent. I continue to suck until his taste is tinged coppery, and only then do I release him. The imprint remains after I pull away, the impression red and tender on his throat.
There, in the bruising flesh of his skin, is my only claim to him.
In a way, it is impressive ā his charisma. He is so good at giving me nothing at all and making me feel as though I have everything. He breathes my name and it sounds like his religion. I'm an atheist, truthfully, but I have come to believe that religion is mostly subjective anyhow. I'm certain the golden cross around Rafe's neck means very little to him.
His jaw cracks open in a yawn, revealing pink gums and pearly teeth again as he reaches his arms over his head and flexes his legs beneath me. I reach out to graze my knuckles along his jaw, reveling in the barely there bristles and the way the sun catches on them, turning blonde to gold. In the morning light, his eyes shine wet with a combination of bleary affection and sleep.
After stretching his body into wakefulness, Rafe grabs my face in his large hands and draws me towards him, kissing my forehead, then my nose, and then the corners of my mouth. His thumbs caress my cheekbones, petting aside lose strands of hair.
"I've got some things to take care of today," he informs me vaguely while gently removing me from the entanglement of his body. Suddenly he's not underneath me anymore, and I'm left on his pristine mattress alone.
It's my turn to stare as he shuffles around the room. Smiling smugly to myself, I watch as he tugs on a fresh pair of boxers from the floor, the material fitting snuggly around him.
"Yeah?" I hum, trying not to sound too disappointed. "What kinds of things?" I really don't care, just want to ask him to stay a while longer, but I'm not sure I should push my luck.
"Family stuff," he answers mindlessly, effectively putting a stop the the conversation as he turns away. His retreating back gives me a perfect display of his sinewy body as he walks into the connecting bathroom. I wait, listening to the sound of water splash into the sink and Rafe brushing his teeth before I muster up the will to get out of his warm bed.
The title is cold against my bare feet, and I whine at the unpleasantness of the sensation. Immediately seeking the comfort of Rafe's warmth again, I curl around him from behind, my face pressed into his neck. He hums from around his toothbrush, one palm leant against the counter as he scrubs with the other.
Presented with the opportunity in which both of his hands are occupied, my own hand that is splayed across his stomach slides downwards. His blue eyes flicker up to mine in the reflection of the mirror. Teasingly, I cup my hand to palm his crotch.
He's already hard, straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. His nostrils flare, toothbrush still in his mouth as my hand slides back up, fingers slipping under the waistband of his boxers, warming to his skin.
Rafe dips down to the sink to spit and rinse his mouth before straightening, both palms gripping the counter. His chest heaves, muscles sliding over his ribs when I take him in my hand. He's heavy and throbbing. There is nothing deceiving about what's being concealed within the confines of his pants.
"You gotta go?" I ask softly, kissing between his tensed shoulder blades as my thumb swipes over his weeping tip. His hips stutter into my hand at the motion.
Rafe swallows heavy, head dipped down as he shakes it. "No, no," he dismisses, his voice thick. He clears his throat. "If you stop now I'll never get that thing tucked into my pants."
I nearly laugh against his back, pressing my lips against his impossibly warm skin again. His blue eyes narrow at me jadedly through the mirror. Not funny, is what that look means.
I pump him lazily a few times, twisting my wrist as my hand slides up and down his shaft. He's already slick with precum and likely very close to coming. There's an a large portion of it already leaking through the front of his navy blue boxers.
"Fuuuuck, baby," he moans, tucking his nose into his shoulder to get a grip on himself. "Jesusāfuck me."
With a whimper that's a dignified as he can muster, his body jerks when I rub my thumb over the swollen pink head. He's breathing hard at this point, trying to breathe and restrain himself at the same time. He won't let go until I say so.
"Good boy," I murmur softly, my lips attached to his shoulder, the top of his spine ā the spine that I'm noticing is becoming less and less ridged with each passing week. With his dad off in Guadeloupe, his posture has lost the intensity that it usually carries. His brow has softened too, and he smiles a bit more often.
āYou're a good boy, Rafe," I repeat. He is. He's good to me. He can be a good guy when he wants to be. I think people are so focused on this preconceived idea of him that he just goes with it rather than fighting it.
He whines, with his eyes closed, jaw slack, and head hanging down. I change the pace, alternating between pumping him until he's clinging to the sink and going so slow that his hips buck up into my fist, chasing what I won't give him.
"Please, (y/n)," he finally asks, his voice strained as he pants.
I hum, my body lounging nonchalantly against his back, admiring his ability to keep his composure for so long. He's beautiful like this, golden skin flushed red, chest heaving. So much to be trusted with in my hands.
The moment I give him the okay, he's spilling into my hand, his hot release dripping down my fingers and I'm sure the front of his boxers. He sags against the sink, body limp and boneless as the high of his orgasm fades away.
Smiling privately to myself at his sudden lethargy, I draw my hand away as he gathers himself. There's a crumpled towel on the floor that I use to wipe my hand. Iām not entirely sure it was clean in the first place.
Rafe nabs it from me when Iām done and uses it to clean himself up as well. Then, as if he was not doubled over, receiving a handjob against the sink moments before, he splashes cold water on his face and slips out of the bathroom. Through the doorway, I can see him opening and closing drawers as he searches for clothes.
"Very dignified," I hum watching him tug his pants on out of the corner of my eye. "Coming in your boxers."
"Shut up."
#rafe x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe fic#rafe smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#obx x reader#obx smut
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Even More Caregivers Gomez and Morticia Addams Headcanons (The Addams Family)
Suggested by @zom-bee-1 and @theomenscouncil666
They both love history and love telling you interesting, gruesome facts. āDid you know, my little wraith, people used to eat mummies?ā
On special occasions, Morticia helps you get extra fancy, doing your makeup and letting you borrow some of her jewelry.
And on a more daily basis, Gomez will help with your hair, brushing it for you and styling it however you like.
They always know your age range. Even when youāre trying to hide your regression, even when your age JUST changed, they still know. Itās almost creepy.
Gomez loves to play little tricks on you, but only if you find them funny. Heād never want to upset you.
If you find comfort in it, Morticia is happy to swaddle you. (And then she coos about how adorable you look. āLike youāre in your burial shroud.ā)
They make a playroom for you in the attic, with plenty of morbid toys and lots space to run around.
They are incredibly patient when youāre angry. They assure you that the feelings will pass and they donāt take anything you say too personally.
If youāre sitting or laying on the floor, Morticia will crouch down to be at eye level while she talks to you. Gomez, on the other hand, is right there on the floor with you.
They do their best to support whatever āstrangeā interests you have. They donāt understand the appeal of Disney movies or cutesy aesthetics, but if you like them, they will indulge you.
#Eflen writes#Eflen headcanons#The Addams Family agere#The Addams Family age regression#Gomez Addams agere#Gomez Addams age regression#Morticia Addams agere#Morticia Addams age regression#sfw agere#sfw age regression#fandom agere#age regression headcanons#caregiver headcanons
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The Decorative Divide
Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
(sort of) enemies to friends
ā
My Masterlist
Summary: Dustin and Suzie request that you and Eddie work together to organize a special dinner for them.
Author's Note: This has been collecting dust in my drafts for a year but I didnāt want to abandon it.
Kind of angsty with a happy ending, no use of y/n, Eddie and Reader are around 28 since Dustin and Suzie are 23, implied that Reader is single, self-indulgent mentions of midwestern food, not polished & was proofread to an extent.
Word Count: 2.8k
Warnings: bickering, both Eddie & Reader have quite an attitude and get a little mean, self-deprecation, instance of fainting, includes swearing
As a close family friend, youāve had the privilege of knowing Dustin for years. Despite living two towns over from Hawkins, you often babysat him once you were old enough to be responsible, given your age gap.
Alongside your friendship with Dustin, you have also come to know Suzie. Dustin and Suzie met during their summer at Camp Know Where. Dustin and Suzie's love has stood the test of time. As young adults who have graduated college and built a life together, they have reached a significant milestone in their relationship.
To celebrate their joyous engagement, the pair has decided to host a casual dinner at their place and theyāve called on you to help. While you would typically be thrilled to take on the task of planning such an event for them, there's a catch. Youāre co-planning it with Eddie Munson.
Dustin has spoken highly of Eddie over the years, but your brief encounters with him have left you with a different impression. Contrary to the caring, creative, and devoted individual Dustin has described, you see him as loudābordering on obnoxiousāand overly sure of himself.
When you were first introduced, he showed no interest in getting to know you beyond your face and first name. He appeared closed off and cynical, by the way he shook your hand. You felt as though heād already decided who you were and what you were about just by looking you once over.
While it was rather impolite, it didnāt bother you all that much at the time. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt since some people take time to open up. Even so, you were disinterested in engaging with someone so dismissive. The indifference toward each otherās existence was mutual.
Dustin saw this party as an opportunity for you to get to know Eddie better. To the best of your ability, youāve mentally braced yourself for the likelihood that he doesnāt have a clue about organizing a dinner party. By his looks and demeanor alone, it seems obvious that he hasnāt had many opportunities to even attend one.
Maybe youāre being a bit unfair, relying on assumptions, but you have to have a backup plan in case itās your intuition guiding you, not your cold judgment.
Having arrived not long ago, youāve been in the small kitchen of the coupleās apartment for about ten minutes, busily preparing the space. You search the cupboards and retrieve the items you need, like a cutting board and casserole dish.
Your heart stammers when the front door slams shut, the reverberation shaking the thin walls. Just as you were starting to worry that Eddie might not show up at all, he has, albeit with a pulse-stopping entrance. Youāre relieved heās here, despite the mini heart attack heās just given you.
Thereās a brief silence as he moves through the living room toward your direction. Shortly thereafter, you wince at the distinct squeak of each sneaker as he steps onto the linoleum floor of the kitchen.
With an air of nonchalance, Eddie is holding a heavy paper bag of groceries, appearing unfazed by the fact that heās fifteen minutes late.
Rising slowly from your squatted position in front of the counter cabinet, you release a subtle huff. Glancing down at your watch before directing it at him, you remark, āJesus, where the hell have you been? Dustin said youād be here at 4:30.ā
āWell, you see, I had this stupidly long list I had to tend to first,ā Eddie retorts as he carelessly plops the bag onto the island that separates the two of you. A glass jar at the bottom of the bag clicks against the granite upon contact.
āOf course, you waited until the last minute to go to the store,ā You suppress an eye-roll, but the tone of your voice carries the same effect as if youād done one. Removing the items off of the top of the bag and working your way further in, you mentally check off the list. Tater tots, ground beef, canned green beans, pudding mix, Cool Whip, Snickersā¦ āYou forgot the apples,ā As you near the bottom of the bag, you glance up at him before withdrawing the one remaining item.
āNah,ā Eddie gestures to the medium-sized jar youāre holding while wearing a confused expression. āJust got that instead.ā
āI specifically wrote down one bag of apples. Why the hell did you get applesauce?ā You hold it out to the side while you question him, the tension in your body language growing increasingly rigid.
āI figured it would make your job easier. Now you donāt have to waste your time mashing whole-ass apples. Duh?ā Eddie pulls a stool out from under the lip of the island and perches himself on it. Oblivious to your irritated stare, he begins to fiddle with the stack of paper napkins that he blindly threw into the shopping cart, neglecting to grab regular white and instead carelessly opting for ugly patterned ones.
āWhy on earth would I be mashing-ā you begin, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger. āThis is useless to me!ā You set the jar down a bit harder than necessary, causing it to thud rather than clink like it had before. āIf Iād known you were gonna bring me baby food, then I wouldāve just gone to the store myself.ā
āHow was I supposed to know what you need apples for? Nobody told me shit.ā
āYou donāt need to be told anything, all you had to do was follow the list,ā you round the island and snatch up your car keys and purse. āDonāt burn the place to the ground while Iām gone, please?ā You storm out of the kitchen, muttering to yourself all the way to your car.
You have to drive halfway across town and back before you can even start properly preparing dinner, which is beyond frustrating because now youāre even more behind schedule. Once you arrive back at Dustin and Suzieās apartment, Eddie is lounging on the couch tossing a baseball in the air, not having been tasked with anything since you left.
You put him on the job of tossing together the Snickers salad. Itās just three ingredients, thereās no reason he shouldnāt be able to handle that. All he has to do is mix Cool Whip with chunks of apple and Snickersāitās not rocket science.
Youāve been so focused on browning the beef for the hotdish that you havenāt been checking in on him. When you finally look over your shoulder to do so, you notice that Eddie is chopping the apples and Snickers bars into rather large chunks. āEddie-ā
āOh my god, what?ā he snaps, setting the knife down noisily and turning to you. āWhatās your problem now?ā
āYou have to cut those smaller, or else all of our friends are going to choke and die. Weāre celebrating an engagement, not planning a mass funeral.ā
Eddieās head throbs with how hard his eyes roll back. He bites his tongue and shakes his head. āAs you wish, Your Highness,ā he mutters sarcastically. Albeit loudly, he does as you asked and dices the pieces. Under his breath, he adds, āRoyal pain in the ass, if you ask me.ā
As you finish up the main course and put it into the oven, Eddie is in the dining room on a short step ladder hanging up streamers. You step into the room to inspect and itās immediately evident how crooked they are. The sound of your sigh prompts him to drop his head and take a tense breath, his arms still outstretched above him.
You stand there, arms crossed, eyeing him from below. āItās not straight. Youāve gotta go up by like three inches on the left. Are you even trying to make this look good?ā
āI am, actually!ā Eddie barks, dropping the side of the streamer he was holding. It floats to the floor, only attached to the wall on one end. He backs down the ladder and turns to face you. āJust because I'm not obsessed with every little fucking detail like you doesnāt mean I'm not trying. If you stopped being a control freak for five minutes, youād see that itās fine the way it is.ā
You scoff, your crossed arms tightening. āControl freak? I just want everything to look nice. Is that a crime?ā
āNo, itās not. But youāre nitpicking and micromanaging every fucking thing I do.ā
You jut out your chin as you speak, standing your ground. āItās a special night. If it were my dinner, Iād want everything to be perfect.ā
āYeah? I bet. Except it isnāt yours. Who would even propose to you anyway? Youād probably tell them exactly how to do that too,ā Eddie pauses, his gaze hard and fixed on you, watching for a shift in your expression thatāll indicate whether youāre even listening to him. āIf you want it done a certain way then just do it your damn self.ā
āAt this rate, thatās the only choice I have. Move then.ā You motion for Eddie to step out of the way, and he promptly stomps out of the room. Before you can climb up the ladder in his place, the phone rings. You answer, and itās Suzie.
She adds a few more tasks to your already extensive list, leaving you feeling utterly overwhelmed with the level of upset youāre already at. Despite how much your head is spinning, youāre adamant that you wonāt ask Eddie for help. Youāre convinced that heāll just continue to half-ass everything all while hurling insults at you.
After you promise Suzie that everything will be taken care of in an upbeat tone, you hang up and suppress the frustrated tears pricking your eyes. You return to the streamers and bend over to retrieve the abandoned string. The weight of exhaustion sets in as you climb the ladder, determined to see the job through.
Your palms feel clammy and the thought of holding the sharp thumbtack makes you nervous, but you push the worry away. Persevering, you reach high above your head and try to position the streamer even with the opposite end. You have to lean on your tiptoes a bit, and thatās when the light-headedness swarms. Youāre not taking deep enough breaths, and your balance begins to waver.
Youāve been so dead set on ensuring that everything goes smoothly tonight that youāve neglected to take proper care of yourself. Just as youāre securing the streamer to the wall, you lose your balance entirely.
Amidst patting himself down for his pack of cigarettes, Eddieās attention is abruptly stolen by the loud thump in the dining room. āWhat the fuck was-ā he peeks into the dining room and he spots you lying on the floor. āOh, shit,ā Eddie rushes over and drops to his knees beside you, his features etched with concern. āAre you okay?ā At first, heās unsure of what he should do. But when he sees that youāre attempting to sit up, he hesitantly guides you. āDid you hit your head?ā Once youāre seated upright, Eddie leans in to inspect the back of your skull, as if expecting to find a cartoonish goose egg.
āI donāt know, but Iām fine,ā you groggily dismiss his concern, adjusting your position so that you can slouch against the fall. āI just missed a step, thatās all.ā
āWhen was the last time you ate or drank anything?ā His brown eyes are wide and shining with concern at your drained appearance. āSay the word and Iāll bring whatever you need.ā
āI said Iām fine,ā you insist, tears brimming in your eyes as you pull your knees up to your chest. āI just- this dinner is so important for them. If I canāt give them a simple party then-ā You try to take a deep breath but it stuttersāa tearful hiccup. āYou were right. Iāll never have my own party like this. I guess I just want to give them a night I can only dream of.ā
Eddieās frown deepens as he looks down, picking at his cuticles. Heās kicking himself for the hurtful comment he made earlier. At the time, he didnāt realize how deeply that would cut you; he hit you where it hurts. Right now, he wants to reach out, hold your hand, and apologize. Eddie wants to tell you that youāre doing a good job.
You should be taking care of yourself instead of piling all of the pressure onto yourself to satisfy Dustin and Suzieās requests. He wants to express that, but he canāt. Not after what he said.
In the awkward silence, a humorless laugh escapes you, your embarrassment palpable for exposing the vulnerable side of yourself to him. Harshly, you swipe at your tears, a sting following soon after. Both of you jolt at the timer ringing in the kitchen. You squint through your tear-blurred vision at the clock on the wall. āFuck, itās almost 6:30 already.ā
You rise unsteadily to your feet, leaving Eddie uncertain, unsure of what to say or if he should even offer to give you a hand at this point. As you fix your hair and try to even out your breaths, you steel yourself for whatās to come. You head back into the kitchen, slipping seamlessly back into work mode.
Eddie gets to his feet a few beats later, but his movements are slow and cautious as he follows, almost as if heās afraid to intrude. Sheepishly, he enters the room. Youāre taking the casserole out of the oven and gathering plates and flatware rather hastily. Despite there being plenty of time and no need to rush, youāre still being hard on yourself.
Twisting the silver bracelet on his wrist, Eddie steps closer to the island. āWhat can I do to help?ā he asks softly, almost cowardly. āIāll do it the right way this time, I promise.ā
You pause. He was right twice over; you were being a control freak, bossing him around. With far less frustration and impatience, you look at him. Though, thereās still a hint of hurt and weakness in your voice. āWould you mind setting the table? Iāll be there in a sec.ā
Eddie nods eagerly, a relieved grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Heās grateful that youāre letting him participate even though heās fucked everything up so far. He gathers the plates and silverware and carries them to the dining table, setting down a plate in front of each chair.
However, he stops in his tracks, realizing that he doesnāt know how to formally set a table. Lost in thought, he mentally searches for the information that he doesnāt have archived, not knowing where the fork and spoon are supposed to be placed.
You enter the room and tilt your head at his trance-like state. āDaydreaming?ā You quip, your voice playful and carried with softness, a far cry from the previous tenseness.
āNo, I uh- ā Eddie starts, then looks over at you. āWhere do you want me to put these?ā He holds up his fistful of the silverware.
āWherever you think is best,ā You reply, offering him a small grināthe warmest heās ever seen on you.
A warmth spreads in his chest and the apples of his cheeks go rosy. He breaks eye contact and murmurs, āOkay, cool.ā
When Dustin and Suzie return home, theyāre ecstatic with how the place looks. During dinner, everyone is seated around the tableāMike, Lucas, Max, you and Eddie, Steve, and Robin.
Amidst the intermingling conversations, Eddie rises from his seat and clinks his cutlery against his drinking glass. Voices fade off and all eyes turn to him. His gaze sweeps around the table, a kind smile playing on his lips.
He clears his throat, rolls his shoulders back, and raises his glass. āTo the happy couple,ā Eddie begins, his voice carrying easily through the small room. āAnd to this little lady beside me, who worked so hard to make tonight as great as it is.ā
You shy away when he winks at you. The chorus of agreement and praise overtakes your senses. When you chance a look at him, his focus hasnāt shifted. Heās still looking down at you, but this time with a dazzling smile. Your eyes meet, and for a moment, everything stills.
In his chocolate gaze, you see something differentāno longer disinterest, but instead, gratitude and genuine admiration. Raising your glass, you join the collective toast. Dustin mouths āthank youā from across the table, and you nod in acknowledgment.
As Eddie sits back down, you bump his shoulder with your own. āI couldnāt have done it without you.ā
He snorts and gives you a playful look. āSure you couldāve.ā
āWell, Iām glad I didnāt have to,ā You say sincerely, tilting your glass toward him.
He responds by tapping his glass against yours, a silent acknowledgment of the forced collaboration. If it werenāt for that, he might have never gotten the chance to uncover your dedication and selflessness. The swirling warmth in his belly sparks curiosity about what other qualities he might admire in you.
One thing is for certain, Eddie is eager to find out.
ā
My Masterlist
#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#stranger things 4#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson hurt/comfort#eddie munson fics#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson au#eddie munson x y/n#dustin henderson#stranger things au#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction
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The Mirror is My Enemy
Oscar Piastri x Reader
Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff
Summary: Growing up with a narcissistic mother was never easy. Never looking the way she wanted made enemies out of strange things, including her own mind. Oscar mends her slowly in the way he knows how.
Warnings: Narcissistic abuse, eating disorder, vomiting (implied),
Notes: yeah... this one his hard. I know narcissistic mother are different from father, but I did the best with the experience I have. I hope the requester of this likes it, I tried really hard!
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
Narcissists are a special breed of people. Concerned about themselves and how they look. Charismatic and welcoming to the outside world. But to their inner circles? Their families? They see the hidden truth.
Having one as a parent is a specific kind of hell. It's underhanded comments and insults masked with laughter like it's a joke. It's always having your privacy invaded to make sure you aren't getting any ideas or talking about them in a negative light.
It's giving up on fighting because it's easier to just do what they say, to give up any semblance of control over your own life. Always being exhausted because you're either arguing or watching any kind of hope for life you had wither away.
The optimal thing to do is try and tell someone, but nobody believes because they can't see the evidence. They don't see the way her mom dresses her up like a doll or the comments whispered in her ear. They don't know that behind the closed bathroom door, her mother pokes and tugs at her skin and forces her to watch in the mirror. They don't know the control it takes to make herself not eat from such a tender age. Always trying to fit into the clothes that are too small for her. Purposely purchased that way.
She learns to love the compliments when her mother gives them. As her body whittles away into nothingness.
She meets Oscar while in a fragile state. Dolled up for some fancy dinner she's attending with her mother. Some kind of business thing with McLaren.
She's always thought the reason they had so much money was because they don't eat. It's how they have extra to invest into whatever they choose. Her father likes money and her mom likes appearances. A lovely combination that she's caught in-between.
She orders a salad for appearances. Nobody can see what's truly going on. They'd asl questions if she acts strange. She takes small bites and pokes around anything on it that might hold a few extra calories.
She makes conversation with herself in her head. Missing the looks the Australian driver is throwing her way.
They attend the race that weekend. Guests to the McLaren garage. She tries to avoid anything that even remotely looks like a camera since it adds five pounds to the image of her.
Saturday after qualifying is when Oscar finally starts a conversation. An encouraging nod from Lando has him making confident strides towards her.
He offers her a tour and she accept. Her mother isn't paying too much attention to her. Not like she ever does unless she looks acceptable in her loose-fitting clothes, so nobody says anything.
Oscar is nice. He makes good conversation with her. It's different to the people her parents approved of. Oscar asks her about her interests and reciprocates with his own.
They agree to a date after the race on Sunday. He takes her to some park he'd discovered over the weekend.
She hides it away. Desperate to keep this one thing for herself. Untouched by her parents.
She texts Oscar far more than necessary. Her co-workers notice how her mood lightens.
He comes to see her at every opportunity he can. she can't seem to get away from her parents. Every time she tries it ends badly. Then they get suspicious and start looking through her things.
Oscar takes her to eat a few times. She keeps up appearances. It's strange that someone is encouraging her to eat. Oscar looks soft every time she indulges in the foods that had been restricted for her entire life.
Her mother notices. Because every calorie shows. Like somehow, she knows every time she puts any kind of food in her mouth.
Oscar spends summer break staying with her. She takes a deep breath introducing him to her parents. They play nice in front of him.
Afterwards is a different story. They catch her alone in the hall and pull her away. They lecture her about not knowing anything about him and how he won't be any good for her.
She sleeps separate from him all summer. She keeps her distance physically. He doesn't notice how far gone she is.
Oscar asks her to come with him. To drop what she's doing and travel the world with him.
She acts on a whim. She leaves everything and follows Oscar around the world.
He figures is out eventually. He knew, always had, but he sees how bad it is. Her resolve breaks, she doesn't know how to combat these thoughts in her head. They are overwhelming, they eat away at her in the form of depriving herself.
But Oscar is a patient soul. He works at her pace.
Oscar comes up behind her when she gets lost staring at her flaws in the mirror. He doesn't drag her away; he points out every beautiful make she has, every perfection like it's a drug to him.
He asks about confronting her mother; about defending her and setting some hard boundaries. She begs him not to. They cut contact and leave it at that.
It's different being with someone who doesn't care what she eats. Who doesn't make a big deal about when she pokes at her food or indulges in a favorite snack.
It's amazing what happened when one has a decent support system. When she is able to look for Oscar when she's stuck staring in the mirror and picking at her skin. When he stays with her despite relapses that make her sick.
Oscar still holds and compliments and makes sure she knows she's loved despite it all. He tells her that seeing her smile is worth every weird joke he tells.
He's doing what her parents should've done. And maybe one day she'll see that she never needed their approval, that she has always been perfect. But for now, Oscar is there to make sure she knows she's enough for him exactly as she is.
#x reader#f1 fic#formula 1#f1 fanfic#fanficion#racing#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#mclaren racing#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri f1#mclaren f1#mclaren#oscar piastri x y/n#mclaren oscar piastri#op81 imagine#op81#op81 x reader#op81 x you#op81 angst#mclaren formula 1#papaya#oscar pastry#f1 x reader#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x female reader#oscar piastri angst
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ā āgeneral relationship headcanons!ā
syzoth (feat. ashrah), baraka, raiden
love languages
fluff
thouple (syzoth + ashrah + reader)
thank you guys for so much support! im just going this hc thingy while I think up this for the raiden story (which hopefully wonāt take too long). please enjoy!! į°
į° syzoth :: quality time and gift giving
he is not uncomfortable to talk about his passed family, honestly syzoth would enjoy if his partner was interested in that part of his life. whether itās recommending visiting their grave site, or sharing his griefāis something that he greatly appreciates.
the reason ashrah and syzoth work so well is because theyāre both trying to right their sins, having you be there and being supportive means the absolute world. he shows you that through small thoughtful gifts (mostly trinkets that he finds at markets or on his walks).
idk if anyone is actually interested in a thouple with themā¦but hear me out š¤². I genuinely think ashrah and syzoth would be so well rounded and loving. date nights either in Shaolinās gardens or mileenaās palace (probably in the library), always romantic with stereotypical candle light and a nice dinner. syzoth thinks itās important to make it special as possible since thereās only a few times when youāre all together.
. . .
į° baraka: acts of service, words of affirmation, physical touch
what baraka truly needs is another leader. there is so much responsibility placed on his shoulders with the colonyābut of course he would never truly ask you to help, heās stubborn and wellā¦has a guilty conscience. you would need to insert yourself without needing to be prompted. assertiveness and responsibility is something he finds extremely attractive, as well as being compassionate, gods knows that itās also something he needs.
physical contact is foreign to him, after years of being alone once his family passed and being ill. he adores it when you bring some type of normalcy to touching him, though heās the first to pull away. baraka knows the risk he puts you in everyday, if he can limit the chances of tarkat spreading to youāwhile still indulging this relationship, he will.
like asking for extra leadershipāhe wouldnāt pursue you. baraka wouldnāt ever expect another chance of love, in all honesty he would think that his pining is one sided. Though once youāve established a relationship with him, heās open with you. private moments with you are filled with him thanking you for the work you put in the colony, and how you treat not only him but others. even though heās no poet, he makes sure you know he cherishes you.
. . .
į° raiden: words of affirmation and quality time
usually he pursues people that he highly respects. you donāt have to do something exceptional, but having passion for your own beliefs is what he values in a person and especially in a partner. also it would be admirable if you were interested in his own goals and aspirations, after all raidenās prospective has changed much once the events in outworld has passed.
raiden is humbleā¦but he likes showing off to youānot exactly out of place of smugness but he enjoys when you are impressed at his talents. he smiles so brightly whenever you compliment him on his achievements or on his hard work in general. itās probably one of his top motivation besides him genuinely enjoy what heās doing.
if you two ever got the chance to go back to fengjian his first goal would to introduce you to his family, he has to be a mamaās boy. he cares deeply for his family and he wants you to feel included in that circle. besides visiting them, heās taking you to see the sites and old hang out spots. leading you along by holding your hand keeping you close (I love him heās so sweet ugh). it means everything that youāre willing to listen to his childhood stories and just with him in general to visit his hometown.
sadly iām trying to keep his to minimum since my own little headcanons for him should show up in the story iām writing for him :]
thank you for reading!
#baraka x reader#syzoth#mk1 x reader#mk1#mortal kombat#mortal kombat x reader#raiden mk1#syzoth mk1#baraka#hcs#fluff#raiden x reader#x reader#ashrah#ashrah x reader#ashrah x syzoth#syzoth x reader
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AoT Short Stories Vol. 4 First Tea Cakes: Levi:
So this story got me in the heart.
It revolves around the wife of a wealthy patron to the SC donating baked goods to their branch, and everybody trying to figure out what to do with them, being unused to having any, real luxuries for their soldiers. Nanaba suggests that they split the goods up and have each squad leader take them back and share them with their subordinates.
There's this exchange when Levi brings his share back to his Special Operations Squad:
"'Oh, Captain! Why don't I take this opportunity to make some tea?'
'Don't get so worked up, Petra.'
'Opportunities like this are so rare, though! Also, Olou, you'll make a mess if you cut it up, so let Eld do it.'
So it was true that these soldiers ate for sustenance and little else from their Training Corps days. When Levi met soldiers during his Underground City days, they were always MPs, so he believed they'd all grown fat on luxuries. It almost seemed comical that other fellow soldiers grew congenial over a single sweet, but something about it was also pleasant.
'Do whatever you want. Well... there's a black tin on a shelf in my room. It should be better than the disgusting tea you get in those rations.'
Levi's soldiers recognized the consideration in these words and looked at him with shock. It may have been the first time he showed them anything resembling kindness outside of battle."
What's so telling about the above excerpt is how it demonstrates Levi's kindness, but also his struggle with communicating that kindness. His squad is shocked at his generous offer of letting them drink his own, higher grade tea, because he's never, apparently, offered them anything like that before. But Levi's internal thoughts here are important to understanding why. The only experience Levi really had with soldiers was with the MP's, when he was still in the Underground, and so his impression was that all soldiers in the military, including Survey Corps soldiers, must be used to luxury items and being able to indulge in them. We see Levi's initial confusion here at Petra's excitement over the baked goods, telling her not to get so worked up about it, before realizing it's because they aren't used to having nice things. Seeing the genuine joy it brings them to finally have an opportunity to indulge a little spurs Levi on, then, to offering his own, higher grade tea to go with the sweets. The moment he realized getting to enjoy something of higher quality actually brought his squad happiness, Levi offered what he himself had to give without hesitation. And that really does encapsulate Levi as a person. He has such immense compassion for people, and always wants to help. He just doesn't always know how to share that kindness, almost assuredly because of the way he grew up and the lack of good role models he had. He struggles to know how to express what he's feeling, how to communicate how much he cares.
Then, later in the story, Levi is out at the market, buying provisions it seems, and we get this excerpt:
"He looked over to find a stall with a line of fruit-based sweets. Society was now in a place where more than just the bare necessities could be sold.
'Hey, Mister Survey Corps! How about something sweet to take back to your family?'
I have no family, Levi thought as he tried to ignore him, but then familiar faces came to mind. A new commander, hard at work. Young men who bore the guilt of having survived the killing fields as they analyzed the world's secrets and prepared for the next operation. He doubted he'd get to see the peaceful smiles that came to those expressions like he did before. Even so-
'... Wrap it up for me.'
Something sparked his interest.
All of them thought Levi's sour look never left his face. How would they look if he brought them back some sweets and even made them some tea?
The packaged sweets were freshly baked, and a warm heat spread across Levi's palm."
I mean... just kill me now, please. How sweet is Levi? First, Levi thinking he has no family (which is just all kinds of heartbreaking), but then him thinking of his fellow soldiers. Thinking of, I'm guessing, Hange, and his new squad, realizing they're his family. And then just the way he immediately decides to buy them the sweets on display, thinking about how so many of them have lost their hope and optimism, but hopeful himself that maybe having something nice like this will give them back a little joy, even as he knows it won't really fix anything. When he wonders how they'll look if he gives them sweets and makes them tea, he's obviously remembering how much it meant to his original squad to have even something as small as baked goods to share between them, and he's trying to replicate that here for his new squad, and for Hange, too.
And we see Levi thinking here also about his own difficulty in communicating and expressing his true feelings. He's aware that most people look at him and see an unfeeling, distant and callous person, and he's wondering here, also, if they'll be able to see that's not the case if he gifts them something nice. It's pretty clear from this line that Levi doesn't mean to give off the impression he does to people. He doesn't want to make anyone think he doesn't care. Again, because of how he grew up and the experiences he's lived through, it's had a deeply negative impact on his ability to properly socialize and communicate with others, and Levi is aware of that. He wants people to know he cares about them, again, he just hasn't ever really been shown how to express that care.
It's why we get so many awkward interactions between Levi and others, with him attempting to express compassion or provide them comfort in some way, and it often coming out in strange and sometimes even inappropriate ways, sometimes even leading others to think Levi is being the opposite of kind, like what happened with Historia during the Uprising arc, or like Levi making shit jokes to cheer Eren up, or the numerous times he's hurled what seems like insults at people, but rather than malice, it's simply been out of fear or worry for them on his part. Levi just simply hasn't ever been taught how to communicate with others in a way that would be deemed socially acceptable, and so we see him struggling to learn how to express his care in a way that will be understood by others. We see in this story Levi gradually learning one such way he can, and it's just a testament to what a kind and caring heart he has, that he keeps seeking out ways to show others kindness, and tries here to replicate successfully doing so again with his new squad and commander, just like he once did with his old squad. We see this play out again, when Levi allows the men under his command to take the boxes of wine with them for their mission of watching over Zeke in the forest. He's once more trying to give his subordinates a little joy among all the suffering and loss.
Honestly, how could anyone ever claim that Levi doesn't care or feel anything for others? It seems impossible to me that anyone could be that blind. He's truly just such a good person.
#Levi Ackerman#attack on titan#shingeki no kyoujin#short stories#smart pass#Erwin Smith#Petra Ral#oluo bozado#eld jinn#Hange Zoe#analysis#meta#commentary
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i am female manipulating youā¦.tell me about your hyperfixations and special interestsā¦..
!! well my biggest hypfix rn is arcane and my most pressing special interest is dc, so iāve been trying to find as many similarities as i can between my respective faves (aka jayce talis and barry allen). no other reason than self-indulgent crossovers and categorizational satisfaction U__U
iāve done this before, but now iām also adding a visual component by comparing screenshots/panels! hereās a taste:
[s2e1 spoilers below cut]
i was thinking abt what i said abt their compartmentalizing tendencies, which led me to think abt the different ways jayce confides in his loved ones and how that plays into his inability to see the bigger picture. after his partner viktor nearly dies in the councilroom attack, jayce confides in mel (gf) for emotional support but tells caitlyn (family friend) what heās actually thinking. when mel asks how viktorās doing and jayce responds āheās still breathing,ā it feels defeated but leaves room for hope. when cait asks the same, he tells her āhonestly, i donāt even know if heās still in there,ā like thereās less stakes to have to hide behind optimism
thatās not to say he isnāt vulnerable w mel ofc, he lies his head in her lap and allows her to comfort him thru his survivorās guilt. however, this only reassures his emotional unease (sm to be said abt this x his argument style, but thatās for another day). with cait, heās definitely not confiding for comfort lmao (i still think itās funny and so very little sister of her to ask jayce how his dying partner is doing and then immediately start venting abt her own problems). instead, itās more like jayce is trying to process, even if itās just to be honest w himself
all of this to say, the ppl in jayceās life have specific roles, which means he goes to them for specific things. this is a normal thing that pretty much everyone does, but in jayceās case, his compartmentalizing feeds into his tunnel vision + influenceable disposition. having specific ppl for specific things is great for not burdening any one person w all of your problems, but it makes it harder for him to see the bigger picture outside of himself. thereās a reason why jayce is notorious for his recency bias; itās easy to get lost in the details when you can only see whatās being reflected at you in a given moment
this tendency to compartmentalize is a trait jayce shares w barry āi try not to blur the linesā allen. if anyone is going to have specific ppl for specific things, itās gonna be the guy that splits his life into two personas (that he refuses to overlap yet canāt exist without the other, but hey, whoās keeping track?). barry does it a little differently tho; whereas jayce is very external in his emotions, barry is internal, going so far as to use his powers to speedrun his grief alone so he can be there for other ppl instead
theyāre both very intense in their emotions, but barry bottles his up until they reach a boiling point. if he confides in someone, thereās a calculated secrecy that jayce doesnāt have. for example, barryās best friend hal (who knew him first as the flash) usually has to force barry to admit his feelings abt smth, while his gf/wife iris (who knew him first as barry) feels like sheās pulling teeth to get any information out of him. āflash is flash, barry is barryā; he tries not to blur the lines, and this extends to the ppl that know him
itās not that barry wants to hide himself (in fact, his love language is to understand and to be understood), he just has a hard time letting any one person know all of him. heās social and sensitive but selectively vulnerable. itās like he scatters fragments of himself so that everyone can have a piece, but no one has the full picture. itās no surprise he isnāt able to see the big picture himself
between their compartmentalization, their short-sightedness, and their audacious idea of protecting their loved ones, i think the jayce-to-barry pipeline was inevitable for me lol. but interestingly enough, i never realized how different they were in their similarities until i wrote it all out here! i hope this makes sense if you arenāt familiar w the characters, itās definitely been enlightening for me ^__^
#i should get manipulated more this is awesome#ty shannon!! š«¶#danswers#danbles#meta#arcane#jayce talis#š„Ŗ#the flash#barry allen#dc
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General Chrollo Headcanons!
I will be making a separate post for my romantic/relationship headcanons of him! Iām a bit nervous because I know Iām in the minority with some of my views however Iām up for making a second part to this as this definitely isnāt all, or even expanding on certain things if anyoneās interest. My request box is always open āØ
ā„ Chrollo has Autism Spectrum Disorder. Aside from his childhood trauma, this can also affect his ability to identify and express his emotions. Heās also a master of masking, but if heās out and overwhelmed, heās definitely stimming with his fingers when he places his hands in his pockets.
ā„ Chrollo Lucilfer and āBossā started off as two different identities. Being the Head of the Phantom Troupe was merely another role however over the years, Chrollo started to lose his individuality. Heās gotten lost in the idea of being a villain that being himself sometimes feels foreign, or he might not recognize it when that side of him comes out. It wasnāt just Sarasa that died that day, but a piece of himself as well.
ā„ Chrollo himself is a bit childish. He gets a small glint of genuine joy in his eyes when heās talking about something heās passionate about. Whether itās a book series, the Power Cleaners, or certain species of arachnid. Seeing that side of him truly is something as it only comes out when heās completely comfortable.
ā„ On the other hand of that not, when heās upset this also leads to him being pretty impulsive and making rather rash decisions. Chrollo is a master strategist but that can fall apart when pushed enough.
ā„ Chrollo hums to himself when thereās a toon heās fond of playing. Most times itās subconsciously and he doesnāt even catch himself doing so unless itās pointed out to him.
ā„ This man hates crowds of people. Not being able to keep track of what everyoneās doing, the heat, the smell- Itās completely awful to him. Itās more overwhelming than most heists and if not on a job he will avoid them at all costs.
ā„ Chrollo is very comfortable in his gender as a cis man but often indulges in things that are stereotypically feminine. Make up, painting his nails, even sporting a bit of womenās garments into his every day style.
ā„ The Troupe as a whole is a found family of sorts, but Chrollo holds a particular closeness with the original members. The Spider he was closest with overall being Pakunoda.
ā„ Given what we know about Nen, I believe Chrollo was born as a natural conjuror. Though with him changing as a person and honing his Nen for those three years, his aura adapted to specialization.
ā„ Chrolloās ethnicity is Japanese Italian. A true wasian man if I do say so myself. Though I feel heās a bit more in touch with his Japanese heritage.
ā„ He returns a lot to Meteor City outside of his Troupe affairs. Heās somewhat famous there and you bet thereās kids running up to him, gently tugging at his coat asking him to tell them about his āadventuresā. Chrollo of course does so on his free time, sharing stories of their heists though somewhat spinning it to paint them as heroes akin to the Power Cleaners.
ā„ Chrollo doesnāt kill innocent people unless theyāre accidentally caught in the crossfire or truly itās necessary like how he used the crowd in his fight with Hisoka.
ā„ Chrollo suffers from insomnia due to being plagued by night terrors though aside from that he can honestly fall asleep anywhere if tired enough. It doesnāt matter if itās the hair ground of the forest or a nice bed, heāll make due.
ā„ Of course if given a bed, you will definitely catch this man hugging/cuddling his pillow. And he definitely prefers to be completely smothered in blankets and pillows to feel like heās been held. (Iāll say it now, heās a little spoon)
ā„ Chrollo is definitely a light weight when it comes to alcohol. Heās buzzed on two cheap beers so heās always careful to restrain himself in that regard.
ā„ He is a S class NERD. Chrollo will shame movie or show adaptations for their inaccuracies to their book counterparts. If someone brings up an obscure topic that he just so happened to read about, heās making his knowledge known.
ā„ Pretty much everyone is aware of Chrolloās love for pudding but Iām here to say his love for sweets is endless. Cakes, ice cream, candies, chocolate- he literally canāt get enough. And bet your ass heās suffered a deal of tooth pain during his younger years because of it. Though heās good on his dental hygiene as an adult.
ā„ Chrollo can naturally be quite competitive. Whether heās playing chess or just entertaining a Troupe memberās game of hang man. Heās always going for the win.
ā„ When heās not masking, Chrolloās genuine laugh is truly adorable. On the rare occasion he might even snort. (Heāll always deny that he did though)
ā„ Being from Meteor City, Chrollo is on the most accepting and least judgmental people when it comes to LGBTQ, race, religion/culture, mental disorders, or any physical differences. He didnāt even know something like being gay or trans was looking down on in certain places of the world.
I hope you guys appreciate these. I truly can ramble about this man all day if you really want ā¤ļø
#hxh#phantom troupe#hunter x hunter#chrollo#chrollo lucilfer#kuroro#kuroro rushirufuru#chrollo headcanons#headcanons#genei ryodan#pakunoda#hxh chrollo#hxh headcanons#iām literally obsessed
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saw the notifs that you posted and came running.. IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEW CYOA LETS GOODJJRF Primal Moon was so good too!! rlly enjoyed the way Wu kong had that sort of forcefulness to him,, much love and i cant wait to see your next post!!ā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø
Ahhh thank you so much! I hope everyone will like the CYOA- Iāve been plotting things out for a while now, and Iām super excited for it too!
And Iāve been working on Primal Moon for a long time now, so Iām really, really happy to finally get a fic of it out!
Wukong is one of the more demanding, pushy demons during the verdant lunar cycle. Heās been alone in the wilderness with his monkeys for a long time- heās super excited to have a troop! Wukong wants to cuddle! He wants to groom! He wants to share his food! He wants group naps and shared nests!
It just so happens that this swell of love-seeking behavior comes with a severe loss of inhibitions that heās never taught himself not to indulge in. And although heās pretty reasonable in spite of all thisā¦ heās still willing to severely crack down on any intentional disobedience within his ātroopā.
Macaque is a loner, and he gets along just fine by himself- so the instincts that get brought to the fore are much less severe than Wukongās. But he still has them, no matter how much heād like to pretend otherwise. Thereās a lot of embarrassment involved in these weeks for him, accepting and giving affection without even realizing it. One moment Macaque is trying to distract himself by reading, the very next heās snuggled up to you/Wukong/MK, whining for scritches and pats. By the time the time heās realized whatās happened, heās already purring on his back, his tail sweeping back and forth in glee.
Poor, poor MK. This kiddo is going to despise himself when all is said and done. After a lifetime spent unaware of his true nature, the first Primal Moon he endures absolutely destroys him.
Usually people have a lot of time spent preparing for this event- even babies and toddlers are affected by theļæ¼ moon, so people can grow accustomed early. As you grow older and stronger you can resist the animalistic urges that rise inside, and some demons/celestials can even suppress their instincts almost entirely- with training and practice.
And guess who hasnāt had so much as even a day to prepare?
So MK goes from gold-hearted goofball to a damn near abuser, beating and pushing and throwing you around because his mind and body are genuinely brand new to this- he doesnāt know what else to do! He doesnāt have the years of acclimation that his friend and family have, the coping mechanism that theyāve learned to employ. And at the end of the week, the viridescence in the skies dies away entirely, leaving him free to see the entirety of what heās done to you.
And heās going to hate himself for it.
āāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāā
Also I had to do a lot of research on animal behaviors for this AU- fun, because itās my special interest- not fun, because animals are incredibly awful little things who sometimes engage in awful behaviors!
Like, male pigs engage in so much baby-killing. Just so very much. Very little in the way of parental/familial instincts. And unless I base him around an octopus, what am I going to do for Sandy? Heās a river demon- what instincts does fish even have?
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Regarding Lucienās scars. I think itās basically a headcanon in the fandom that Lucien still has the scars on his back from being whipped, but if those are present in canon too, that could be interesting. Howeverrrrā¦ the facial scar must be kind of a big deal for Lucien. Amarantha attacked him 50ish years ago and then within a few days she organized that masquerade ball āin Lucienās honorā - the masked theme was a scheme to help him basically hide what she did to his face. Then the masks were plastered to the faces of everyone in Spring Court because Tamlin didnāt accept to sleep with Amarantha. So hereās Lucien, hiding his scars for 50 years no matter how uncomfortable the whole mask situation may have beenā¦ but now his facial scar that he cannot hide anywhere (unlike Azrielās hands) is just in full view for anyone who looks at him. I think there is no question about it. He must be self conscious about it, especially since he thinks Elain is the most beautiful female he has ever seen and she doesnāt reciprocate anything yet. People have been writing about it here on tumblr recently but I really hope SJM explores Lucienās character from this perspective too. I assume he must feel very inadequate compared to Elain. She has so much (family, friends, connected to the IC, safety and security, beauty, etc.), whereas Lucien refers to himself as a whole lot of nothing. He doesnāt have a home or even a court, heās basically all alone in the fae world, his closest allies are two humans who so far donāt have much power or influence in Prythian. I assume he is probably also unhappy with his looks after such a traumatic experience. I hope SJM explores this, I think that would be a really cool addition to Elucienās healing journey. Even though Lucien is quite snarky and cocky outwardly, his inner monologue seems very self conscious. Ahhh SJM give us the angstttttt
I AGREE!!!!!! I think while there are sincere aspects of Lucien's personality that are (hahaha, I just accidentally typed snocky which was my brain getting confused on whether I wanted to type snarky or cocky first) snarky and cocky, I also feel it's a default mechanism too. Lucien is known to take care in his appearance and he is aware of appearances. Even in book once he was a bit of a fashionista, commenting on how Feyre's tunic wasn't as pretty as a dress and being amazed at how positively fae she looked when she did finally put one on. There's also this: Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this" - he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-" surely we're not so miserable to look at. Lucien must be constantly aware of others looking at him and I'm guessing he's never sure if it's about the eye or if his scars are unappealing to them. For someone who does care about appearances, whose job it is to talk to High Lords and make friends to be a successful emissary, there is definitely an inner discomfort he's trying to brush off through his nonchalance and jokes about his appearance. I think you're right. Elain is beautiful to the point that people talk. Eris somehow heard across courts that Lucien's mate is a real beauty. She had heiresses jealous of her at barely thirteen. Her mother commented that if her beauty held, she'd be able to secure them a decent match on the marriage market (Elain was 11). So Lucien comes along and not only is he given this super special, sacred bond with her but she turns out to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen all while knowing that she's in love with someone else. And there he is, with no home, no family name, a scar running down his face and one eye. I would take Lucien in a second and we know that many in the ACOTAR world reference his good looks but you can see how he would struggle with his appearance. You can see how Elain literally took his breath away and she did not seem effected by him (I imagine we'll find out that wasn't the truth in her POV but it's how he perceived it at the time). He thinks she doesn't want him or need him and I definitely think we're going to find that he's been feeling very insecure about her perception of his physical appearance.
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Since he's never really gotten an official one, I wrote up my own concept for Carne's backstory. He was suggested to be very vicious, bloodthirsty and angry in-series, so hopefully this conveys some of that and a possible reason why. If you want to suggest specifics or things to add, please let me know! I would be interested to know what you think:
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Carne was born in a rural town couched in mountains near the Swiss-Italian border to a family whose once-proud legacy was their butchery business. To their eventual undoing, the family was almost as famous for their greed and unusual cageyness, keeping their distance from the other villagers outside of work.
As time went on, rumors spread about Carne and his family that they were using stolen farm animals and pets, and even fresh bodies from the cemetery, to make their delicious meats. While few of these rumors were true, there was some truth to the cannibalism, which his father's side of the family practiced ritually. Butchery came so natural to Carne as he grew older that he did not question when his father presented a human corpse before him to teach him how to prep its meat. Though he did always wonder if his father had simply stolen the bodies or had murdered them.
After a string of bizarre child disappearances occurred in the area, the family was targeted as part of a witch hunt after the locals began to suspect them as being the perpetrators. However, in this they were innocent - despite the family's dark practices, Carne never once saw a child on their chopping block.
Forced to flee to southern Italy, leaving most of their belongings and historical home behind, the family was now almost penniless, their name disgraced as the cannibalism rumor spread like wildfire. Carne's father soon fell ill to a mysterious illness, likely related to his forbidden culinary habits, and passed away. His mother, maddened by despair and grief, followed soon after, leaving Carne completely alone.
Distrusted from both the incident in his hometown and his silent, off-putting stoic demeanor, he was barred from getting a job in his trade. Growing somewhat desperate, he accepted the first and only offer that came along - a job with Passione. Right away, it was clear that it would involve a more "clandestine" form of butchery, of the sort his father did, but that was ideal for Carne. He craved violence, vengeance, and this felt perfect for sating that craving - a sort of punishment for the public, who had destroyed everything he had and he now held nothing but contempt for.
With each "job" he undertook, Carne's heart crystallized harder. His methods grew more vicious, his desire for destruction expanding into a gluttonous indulgence, a need to dissect and destroy his victims piece-by-piece until they were nothing but raw sausage. He even started to devour the evidence himself. And soon, out of this viscera, his Stand, the Notorious B.I.G., was born. Not even death would be more than a pothole in his path now, and after his mission was complete, he would wake from death as if from a soft dream, his gluttony appeased for a time.
This ice-cold cruelty caught the attention of Passione's elite, especially Cioccolata and Diavolo. Carne's bull-like bloodlust and fervor combined with his unbreakable nature of silence and keeping his secrets very quickly earned him a spot in L'UnitĆ Speciale, who in a way ended up being more of a family to him than even the one he had lost.
---------- P.S. Thanks @ajockeynamedpod for reminding me of this! Hope you like it if you read it. :)
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