#-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

[ttkoi8]

[basement-writings]

Yoooo, ima be revamping a few things on my blog in the following days. Kinda been getting into the habit of writing again and all with trying to keep this blog alive. I already have four ish fics that I’ve been writing and I hope to at least have one of them done soon. Also I’ll be writing for yandere twisted wonderland, Genshin, and maybe Tokyo Revengers (idk that Izana snippet got me back into the fandom). Might be more twst than the others but I’m trying to expand what characters I write for. Requests probably won’t be open for a while but I do hope to open them back up once school lessens up on me.

the fics I’m currently working on- no titles just yet-

Vil x Raven!Reader

Riddle x King of Hearts Reader

Izana x Reader (animated Izana got me acting up!)

Childe x Musician! Reader

[uroko]

京都の雨の日 ⋆ Rainy day in Kyoto // 김영민

[swordymacaroni]

A/N-In my defense, its 2:07 am.

Pairings- Toji x Reader

Summary- How does Toji react to reader pretending to be upset over something he said?

.🎀"Be quiet, would you?" Toji barks from across the room.

You trail off, face falling. "M'sorry," you mutter, face pressed against the pillow. Your singing wasn't that bad, right?

An awkward silence descends in your room, and instantly, Toji regrets telling you to stop.

"You've been singing that one verse on repeat since last week," he attempts to soften his words from before with a lousy explanation. "It gets annoying as fuck after a while."

That does nothing to help the situation, as you just make a noncommittal sound and curl your body around a pillow.

"Doll..." he sighs, before you hear footsteps heading towards you, and the mattress dips down on the other side. Toji snicks an arm around your waist and tries to pull you closer, only for you to scoot further away.

"I didn't mean in like that," he jests. You hum. "Sure you didn't." You're not really bothered by his outbursts anymore; its just his second nature and he means nothing by them.

But just to mess with him, you add a fake sniff. You can hear the sudden urgency in his voice when he speaks again.

"Doll. Turn around?" You swear his voice tremors slightly. Biting back a grin, you press yourself into the bed. "Baby-" he grabs you by the arm, trying to turn you over, to see if you're actually crying or not.

You chuck a pillow at his face and wail, "You don't love me ANYMOREEE! Why? Am I not pretty enough?" You let out the fakest sob known to mankind, but he falls for it, increasingly getting more frustrated as you move away from his reach. "No, fuck- I love you-didn't mean anything by it. Fucking sing my ears off, I'll not say a damn word-"

You can't keep up the façade and burst out laughing. He freezes, staring over at you, at your shaking shoulders and red face, before he rolls over you, forcing you to look into his eyes. When you finally stop laughing, he gives you a soft slap on your bottom, eyes narrowed. "Not funny, doll. Had me scared." He collapses onto you, pressing his face against your neck in annoyance.

"Serves you right for being a meanie," you mutter as you card your fingers through his hair.

You both fall into a peaceful trance, savoring each others scent and warmth when Toji speaks again. "I have a gun in the bedside drawer."

You open your mouth to respond but he cuts you off.

"If I ever say I don't love you, feel free to shoot me with it."

You kiss the top of his head.

"Noted"

[mistress-riddle]

thinking about cuteness aggression but with james and sirius.

james adores cute things. he's the type to see a cute plushie and immediately buy it because he likes it and he likes having something soft and nice to hold. so surely it's no surprise that he takes a likeness to your cuteness except what you should've realised beforehand was that he was most definitely a squeezer. and with his toned arms from all his athleticism, it was sure to knock the breath out of you every time you succumbed to one of his attacks. luckily, there is a pattern, his cuteness aggression strikes when you're in oversized (his) clothes and if your cheeks are full of a sweet treat. he just thinks it's so cute how soft you look and before he knows it, he's captured you, mid speech, in his arms and giving you an affectionate squeeze as he rubs his cheek against your own, cooing softly about how you're the sweetest and most adorable person to ever exist. he doesn't release you until the next morning when you need to go to the washroom, although very reluctantly because he enjoys being cuddled up in bed.

sirius has a different way of displaying his cuteness aggression and you're quite sure it has everything to do with his spirit animal. he gets random urges to nip at you when he thinks you're looking extra cute. his favourite places to leave a little bite are on your cheeks and thighs, your most supple areas that he adores. he just can't resist it, and it surely doesn't help your case that when he's in one of his episodes of gently nipping at you, you let out the most adorable and delightful giggles he's ever heard that just spurs him on to continue his ticklish attacks. he's obsessed with you and just loves leaving little marks to show how you grab a hold of his heart. (although he's absolutely on board if you reverse it on him and start biting him instead)

[emirkocturk]

Söyler misin eze. bulutlar da sever mi sahiden. ölümü hüzünlü bir ruhu..

Clouds also cry..

[minminyoonjii]

I need birthday triplets Felix Han and reader where the other members worship the three. I’ve seen so many stories where the reader has their brithday and gets all the praise and worshipping, but I know many (me included) who share their birthday with a member

I can’t stop thinking about it 🥹

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: Birthday Babies deserve a thorough pounding, including you. There's no escape once you're in.

🌹CW

Handjob|Squirting|Multiple Orgasms|Very Rough Sex|Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Spitroasting|Dirty Talk|Threesome|Cum Eating|Cum Play|Facials|Untouched Orgasms|Blowjob|Face Fucking|Double Penetration|Orgy|Spanking|Scratching|Mating Press |Coaxing|Teasing|Dom! OT6|Degrading Praise Kink|Free Use Aes|Manhandling|Exhibitionism|Everyone Likes It Rough|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.3K

"Lixxie, did you get any messages from the boys?" you asked, nibbling on your bottom lip. He shook his head, "None, it's like radio silence," he murmured, hooking his leg over your waist. You moved your head, "Sungie, what about you?" you asked, rubbing his cheeks. Jisung gulped, shaking his head, "Nothing from my side either," he said, sulking against your palm. 

All three of you felt your hearts sink, "You don't think they forgot about us right?" you whispered, sighing deeply. Felix clicked his tongue, "No way, Stays have been boasting about it since September began. There's no way right?" he whispered, trying to find hope in your eyes when a soft hic came from Jisung. "What if they actually did?" he cried, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You teared up too, empathy running high, "If you cry I'll cry," you sobbed, burrowing into his chest. Felix's lips wobbled, "You can't have a cry session without me," he hiccuped, clinging close, crying against your neck. Your cries were far from quiet. It was deliberately loud for attention. The boys swung open the door, seeing the three of you bundled together with tears streaming down your puffy cheeks. 

Chan brushed back your hair, "What's wrong, bubs? What's got you so upset?" He asked, giving a give big hug. Felix sniffled, "Not one of you wished us happy birthday," he sulked, squinting at them with his tear brimmed eyes. Seungmin frowned, "We didn't mean to make you feel neglected. It's just that we got distracted by work," he explained, rubbing Felix's nape. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, "What work? We're off for today," he asked, looking at him. 

Minho stepped in, "Since you three decided to have a cuddle day, we prepared a little something," he said, pinching Jisung's cheek. You perked up, "What is it?" You asked, excitement buzzing through your body. Changbin chuckled, "Why don't you come find out?" he asked, easily carrying Felix in his arms. Chan carried Jisung and Minho carried you, "I swear to God, we leave you alone for a bit and it's suddenly a sob fest," Minho teased, bopping your nose. 

You giggled, nuzzling his shoulder. They walked into the kitchen, the dining table filled with your favorite dishes and cake. "Woah!" Felix exclaimed, seeing everything. The group placed you in your seats, "Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to our Sunshines. Happy Birthday to you," they sang, taking a video of your reactions. 

You beamed, nuzzling your partners, "Thank you," you said, blowing the candles with Jilix. Hyunjin smirked, standing behind the three of you, "Now to make your wishes come through," he teased, locking collars around your necks. You gulped, staring at the hungry gazes watching your every move. You held Jisung and Felix's hand, "We're fucked," you murmured. Jisung nodded, "Totally fucked," he answered.

"Too big, hah hhgh," Felix moaned, clawing Minho's chest. Minho chuckled, keeping his relentless pace, "But you love my big girthy cock," he teased, thrusting his cock deeper past Felix's puffy rim. Felix groaned, tossing his head back as Minho’s throbbing cock head brushed against his prostate, "There, hyung. There," he babbled, digging his nails into Minho's shoulders. 

Minho hooked his arms under Felix's thighs, "Shh, shh. I know," he  growled, pounding his cock at those sensitive bundles of nerves. Felix's back arched, his cock dribbling precum all over his torso, "Hah, fuck, fuck. I'm cumming, hyung," he sobbed, crying out from the constant pleasure buzzing through his body. "Cum for hyung, baby boy. Let hyung see your pretty cock get messy," Minho grunted, pumping Felix's cock in tandem with his thrusts. 

His fingers rubbed the sensitive tissue under Felix's hard red cockhead. Felix released a loud broken moan, cumming hard onto his chest. Streaks of white painted his pale skin. His jaw slacked with drool drying by the sides. Minho cooed, keeping the tip of his cock pressed against Felix's swollen prostate, "Take a breather, baby. Let's hear the others scream," he chuckled, hearing Jisung whine out behind him. 

Seungmin gripped Jisung's hair, his cock buried deep down his throat, "Your throat was just meant for cock, prince," he chuckled, thrusting his hips at a languid pace. Jeongin hissed, his cock clenched hard within Jisung's tight ribbed walls, "Keep praising, he loves it," he groaned, spanking Jisung's plump ass. Seungmin smirked, hearing Jisung gag around his cockhead, "You're doing so well, pretty boy. Warm tight mouth feeling so good around me," he cooed, stroking Jisung's cheek. 

Jeongin picked up his pace, thrusting at a merciless pace. Drawing muffled whines and whimpers from Jisung. "Fuck sake. I don't think I can hold it if you're mmh gonna keep, hah doing that," he growled, thrusting his cock in tandem with Jeongin's pace. "Cumming, fuck, fuck," Jeongin cried out, pumping his hot searing load up Jisung's tight hole. Seungmin hissed, ejaculating down Jisungs throat soon after, "Good job, you did so good," he rasped, stroking Jisung's hard. 

Hyunjin chuckled, "Poor baby, came untouched twice. His poor leaky cock looks spent," he teased, tugging on Jisung's  veiny cock. Jeongin whimpered when Jisung clenched hard around his shaft, "Shit, shit, shit. Hyung!" He exclaimed, swatting at Hyunjin. "Sorry, sorry," Hyunjin cooed, kissing Jisungs forehead. Drool dripped down your lips, your mind hazy and clouded by pleasure overwhelming your senses. 

Chan easily manhandled your body up and down his and Changbin's cock. Your cunt was stuffed to brim with Changbin's girthy wide cock. Chan's cock buried deep up your ass, your holes puffy and swollen from their constant deep thrusts. You stared up at Hyunjin with a dazed look, orgasm after orgasm pulled from your pliant body. "Such a creamy hole, your puffy cunt is just leaking with cum isn't it?" he asked, swiping the ring of cum by the base of Changbin's cock and tasted it. 

Chan groaned, "Go give Lixie some attention, he's been hard since Minho allowed him to rest," he grunted, rubbing your swollen clit from the back. Changbin latched on your nipples, his teeth and tongue stimulating your body to the brink. "Hah, huh, hhgh, hah," you slurred, barely coherent with your words. Hyunjin held your jaw, kissing you softly, "Sweet," he whispered, sucking  on your tongue. Your eyes rolled back, quivering around their cocks as your orgasm squirted onto Changbin's lap. 

Changbin growled, pumping a heavy load up your womb, coating every part white, "Shit, angel. You took me off guard," he chuckled, kissing your jaw. Hyunjin pulled away, "Don't make her pass out," he teased, walking towards Felix. "How's my little boy?" He asked, stroking Felix's leaking cock. Felix bucked his hips, craving the friction, "Feel good, Hyunnie," he slurred, moaning quietly at the pleasing pleasure. 

Hyunjin smiled, aligning his cock with Felix's, "Rest, I'll take care of you," he reassured, pumping his wrist around their cocks. His hand easily held them in between. "Hah, hah, hhgh,”  Felix whined,  clawing the couch below as he obediently took the pleasure Hyunjin gave. Hyunjin groaned, rubbing their slits with his other hand, "Mmh, feels good doesn't it, hah, ah, fuck," he grunted, stroking their cocks at a needy pace. 

Felix whimpered, "Cumming, cumming!" he cried, painting his torso white once more, his cum hitting his chin. Hyunjin growled at the sight, ejaculating hard onto Felix's face. Felix moaned at the warm facial, darting his tongue out to taste. Hyunjin  felt his cock twitch, "Fuck, baby. You're so perfect," he said in awe, kissing Felix's nose.

"Aww, look at them," Chan cooed, tucking the three of you in warm cosy blankets. Minho chuckled, "They look too innocent. It's dangerous," he teased, putting a plush in each of your arms. You whined and squinted at them with tired eyes. Seungmin stroked your hair, "Go back to sleep," he whispered, humming a soft lullaby. It didn't take long for the three of you to melt into the mattress with smiles on your face.

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine. Dragons take.❞

[ Betrayal clouds your judgement, for when Jacaerys' indiscretion takes the form of a child, your anger lands in the palm of the Rogue Prince. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,412 ] | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Manipulative Aunt!Reader | this set in an au inside of in hightower green. | this is able to be read as a oneshot.

contains— canon divergence to the second power - an au of an au - targcest, use of 'bastard', infidelity, profanity, revenge, violence, pureblood Valyrian bullshit - thinking about death as a revenge but no suicide/suicidal ideation- angst, smut - two wrongs apparently make a right - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - nsfw: rough sex, biting, degradation, breeding kink, smidge dacryphilia, creampie - no kinslayers, no kings, no betas.

a/n— special thanks to @ahristata and @hiraethrhapsody for kicking my pursuit of this thread!! i woke up (almost literally) to this line of inquiry, & though writing for daemon is difficult, i had a way, way too much fun with this one m'fraid. Ihad so much fun I started laughing at the absurdity. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You can't breathe.

You stand there, your daughters by your sides, no more than five or so name days, dutiful as ever, the princess of the realm— the heir's wife, blindsided. Betrayed. Lied to. And you can't show them your grief, your anger, your shock— you smile, not betrayed, not realised, stupid.

Your act of stupidity protects you, for you can just tell that others, sharp-eyed as they are owning of sharper tongues, calculate the similarities between your husband and the child he is cooing at, at the arms of the Warden of the North's sister.

His bastard fucking sister.

You can't blink away as the facts, the threads, make a beautiful web in front of you. The conclusion is unmistakable. Jacaerys' consistent travels to the North, despite the campaigning for his mother's seat had not required the frequent stretches of long travels. How Aemond had remarked that the bastard is doing twice as much work in doing so, "as he should," Aemond murmurs darkly. "He casts a disgusting shadow on the Iron Throne, 'tis the least he can do."

The insistent of personally greeting the delegates from the North, you thinking it is just his wondrously formed friendship with the Lord Stark, had you dressing up and bringing your girls with him. So that your daughters can meet their father's fucking friend, one that occupied his time when he could have been at home, tending to his duties, his heirs.

And the woman who follows after the Wolf, the bastard Snow, his beloved sister. Dyanna had told you beforehand, as Lord Stark adores his only sibling. Their parenthood is unmistakable, dark hair and sharp chins. A Northern Beauty.

And then you stop, as there is a babe in her arms, no more than two name days at least.

And you see Jacaerys in his gaze.

His beautiful, warm brown eyes in the child in her arms, and as he stands there, your Prince of the Realm, too close for comfort, too close for platonic friendship, a familiarity one cannot deny— and that fucking, sweet-edged, tender smile on his face...

The same one he wore when you had given birth to his daughters. Soiled sheets, bloodied babes— it didn't matter. He held them to his arms with the very same smile, thanking you for birthing his babes.

A gut punch, a sharp inhale, an anger that coils and burns and roars.

Your bastard of a husband had fucked another bastard, and made himself a bastard little fucking family.

Life can ever be so cruel as it is humorous.

Daemon could have laughed at the prediction you found yourself in.

He sits to the left of his wife, the Queen who— in enough of itself, the evidence of the turmoil the court is about to get under, amusingly is talking quick with her Lord Hand; Corlys and Rhaenyra had not stopped pointedly looking at her heir, words too fast but unmistakable what the topic is if their gestures, the knot between their eyebrows, and unmistakable sighs and determined noises.

He, on the other hand, is pointedly staring at you.

You, who tries so hard to piece together an armour of stupidity, an air of nonchalance. As if there is no anger in your visage at your husband's attention completely stolen by Wolf's little sister and her son... who looked completely like him. Dark colouring, the First Men blood thick in his nose, his hair, at the curled edges of his baby-cheeked giggles.

When standing so close, faces to each other, there can be no doubt a mirror.

Or the lovesick smile on the mother's face, watching the Prince of the Realm interact with her son.

Together, the trio of them don't hint as much as a bead of Targaryen blood. One is able to pretend they are nothing more than a small... brown haired family.

Daemon presses his lips, trying desperately not to laugh so loudly.

He admired the boy, truly. Rhaenyra loved each child from her bosom with equal fervor, and Daemon was prepared take him as purely one of his own... but after he broke the betrothal with his daughter (though Baela could give lesser of a shit, though mildly dissatisfied as she was to become Queen, and the girl held her duties between canines) to marry a Hightower cunt... he had distanced himself from the boy.

Daemon viewed it as a sign of weakness, for he knew you. You were just like your mother, prodding into softened parts of his family— that green whore with his brother, young as she had been, his good sister Aemma had not been cold in their memories before she had found herself weightily pregnant with new heirs, and then Jacaerys, new to womanly spells, new to cunt, and you had him making vows in the ways of the dragonlords.

Though he can surmise that much of your mother's movements had not entirely been her own... Daemon knew that calculative look you got in your eye. Blink and it's gone, but your gaze sharpens, your mouth curls in a winning, prideful little smirk.

You were Otto Hightower's granddaughter alright, and you had wanted the Heir's Heir.

But now, it seems like, once a vow broken, it didn't really matter if it was a betrothal or a marriage to Jacaerys.

It brings a sick pull of satisfaction in him, that tugs him to look at you. Every time.

You laugh, tither, still evermore the gem of the feast— a feast you organised with the Lord Hand for your husband's absolutely exceptional diplomatic achievements in the North, truly, Daemon is laughing in the sidelines as the jests and songs make themselves — but Daemon is overtly familiar with dragons. And anger. And you simply stink of it. The way your eye twitches, the occasional grind of your jaw to how your fingers dig crescent moons into your palm. He catches blood in one blink then smeared, then gone, in another.

Your hold onto your armour— the Darling of the Realm, curated so painfully by a young, sly girl moving about the cesspit they call a crown's court — is breaking in pieces and tatters at each hour the feast went on.

It snarls. Like a dragon locked in the pits, tugging at reins, wishing to burn cities.

Maybe you aren't just another Hightower cunt after all.

Not purely at least, he thinks in distaste, staring at the dark green of your gown.

It is a childish tantrum, more than anything, for what is your Hightower green will do now? A bastard has been made, worse, a son. And though Jacaerys himself has muddied blood, he is still a Targaryen. His mother is Queen, prepared to make him an Heir to the Iron Throne as he had been legitimised as Laenor's son. A Velaryon. He bears the name, the crest, and the support of its house.

What is stopping him from marrying the Snow Bastard, legitimising the boy as his own, surpassing your own daughters?

Targaryens marry siblings, they also marry multiple wives.

It is a thought that he can see it dancing in your head— raw, enticing rage and bloodlust that tightens his breeches.

It is an interesting thing.

The green is disgusting, but Daemon can appreciate a young, fertile, Valyrian beauty.

Something your mother had ingeniously provided you and your siblings with, reining in her muddied blood to produce unmistakable Valyrian children. And as a smart little tart, you understood what to do with it.

When Daemon first met you, you were just one of the Hightower spawns that his brother had made to further his line. His brother's daughters—apart from Rhaenyra — were quiet things as babes and children. Odd the two of you were, but not really hostile. When you were introduced to him, your fat babe of a twin brother was teary-eyed and clinging to you, a quiet child with round eyes, staring at him inquisitively, as if challenging.

Then and there, Daemon disliked you so.

Even as you grew, the little of what he could see as he paid no mind of Viserys' other children, you grew up a fine royal, a princess of every word and sung note. Mentions of your progressive fight for the small folk, your charitable heart, your sweet nature that even his brother had made a note once or twice—

He thought it had been Otto Hightower who put you up to such machinations. Wouldn't be below him.

The night you bedded Jacaerys Velaryon, he was pleasantly surprised to find out it had been you all along.

And now here you are, betrayed as you had betrayed his daughter, delicious in your righteous anger and ripe (two babes before the year ended, Jace is an inglorious fool) for the taking. And youthful still. Smooth, soft skin, pretty lips and bright-eyed.

All your scheming, going as far as throwing your grandsire to Oldtown, it is obvious no one has wrangled the clever, spoiled little brat out of you.

As he sips his wine, amused and pleasantly hungry, he muses he might do a job or two of being the strong arm to do so.

He snorts, eyes straying back to the little First Men family.

There it is again. The jest that keeps on giving.

It was pride, truly, that kept you for most of the feast. That kept your gritted teeth to yourself, ducking into corners whenever your anger burned at your eyelids, stubbornly brushing stray tears away.

All is not lost, you stubbornly thought. You just had to plot.

But when Jace had taken your daughters, your Daenera and Aemma, gently tugging them to his bastard whore and his actual bastard to meet— finding your eyes, at that very moment as Daenera's precious, pureblooded hand shyly took the hand of her bastard brother, a fool's tender fucking simpleton of a smile on your husband's face —

Something in your head had snapped. A clean break.

And your armour had fallen. Like limestone from a fortress. Caved in ruins at the pool of your feet. Dark, furious loathe unfurled in your chest. Unable to handle it anymore, you had taken your dress and got out of the feast, for you could feel the urge of unsheathing a sword and going on a bloodied massacre, crowns and titles be damned.

You may not have a dragon, but you have its bloodlust.

Just as you are rushing to your chambers, you stop and make a different turn, knowing that if your husband had caught wind of such an ugly expression on your face, he would try and find you, talk to you, and you don't have the patience to cater to him at the moment— you find what you know of is an empty chamber, reserved for guests at the Keep.

It is a simple room with all the usual accruements. Most of the fanfare, the sheets, are in storage.

You start with a candelabra.

Raise it high before you are violently smashing it against the dresser, shrieks and guttural screams out of your mouth as you tear through the room like a typhoon, cursing Jacaerys, the North, and bastards to the Seven Hells.

None will be the wiser, for you had built your network well. Your spiders will pivot guards and strangers from this area, ensuring you a reprieve where your anger and grief can unfurl and manifest.

So you lose yourself, a dragon untethered. You get so into your rage, quiet in your thoughts, that you don't hear an intruder entering until there is a low, amused laugh too close for comfort.

You whirl around, tear-stained and rage-filled, and though the Rogue Prince expects you to fall into stutters, your eyes slit and you grip— when had you picked up a tome? — the tome tighter to your chest, snarling, "Get out."

Instead of surprise, or even offense, Daemon laughs as if you are the most amusing thing to him all night. Jesters and whores alike.

"I shall not." He makes a noncommittal hum around the dark room. "I rather like it here. It seems this chamber holds a much better entertainment than anything beheld at the feast."

You let out a dark, incredulous laughter. "I have no time for your toying, uncle, get out!" You toss the tome with fervour, but he's a warrior and he anticipates your anger, sidestepping easily before he's back to casual prowling.

"I do not have time to play jester for your entertainment," you hiss, unable to stop the hateful tears from spilling, brushing them away harshly as you watch him watch you.

He raises an eyebrow. "I am not asking you to."

"Are you here then for my humiliation? Press a bitter wound while it's still bleeding, is that it? Is that what would make the glory of your night?"

He snorts. "What would make the glory of my night is a warm body and a tight cunt."

Your face scrunches. "You are disgusting."

He barks out a laugh. "Not as disgusting as your brother."

"Aegon is no longer—"

"— or as stupidly naive as your husband."

A sharp intake of breath before you're once more cracking in broken rage and ghastly pain.

"Of course you would notice, who would not, he looks so much like his fucking bastard."

"Watch yourself, girl," he barks. "You are still talking about the Queen's heir."

A beautiful guard dog, you think, you snort. You push past him, gasping into the crisp, cool air, holding onto the balcony for dear life.

"His already diluted blood makes this conversation entirely hilarious to me I'm afraid." You look down and wonder how fast you will fall. How messy would such a death be? How much care there is left in your wake? Will your husband even care, now that he has his heir? Borne out of true love no doubt, despite such bastardly blood— or is that what makes it thrilling for them?

Mangled bone, spread thin blood— if you die such a way, it should be pretty. You hope it haunts the Keep of so many before you.

But if you die now, you will be replaced so easily. So prettily.

And your daughters—who will care for them? Will Jacaerys even care, if his bastards soon no doubt fill your once home, your mother, your brothers— your daughters pushed aside to make way for fucking dogs.

There is no satisfaction in such a plan.

There are many others.

The Rogue Prince makes his presence known by standing close to your back, close enough that you can smell him, that his heat is your own, as he hums, peering below as you have.

"Have you been drinking, zaldrītsos little dragon?" he whispers, tangling his fingers through your hair, running a lone finger down your neck, up and down in a tantalising movement. You can't help it, it feels comforting, leaning close to it despite such a breathy huff out of your lips.

"Since when am I dragon, kepus uncle? Haven't you always likened us muddied blood, filthier than dragonseeds?"

"I see that I am wrong," he says, almost idle as if he isn't devouring you in his gaze. How you feel soft, pliant under one finger after weighted in wine and the ruins of your anger, how you're almost purring and sweet like this, your fire alive but consistent. "Aōha perzys burns jehikagrī. Nyke hae ziry. Your flames burn bright. I like it."

"Hm. You've had sons, don't you uncle?"

"I have," he replies, amused.

"And many a children." You reach for his chin, your thumb rubbing his bottom lip. He's old, sure, but men don't have the same bodily issues as women. You know he could reach your father's age and be able to produce five more brats.

But his shoulders are strong, spry only as a swordsman can be.

And he isn't like he's loyal to Nyra, turning fully to you with a hand caressing your side.

His hand comes for your neck, halting your movement as he tests a squeeze. There is only much hatred as there is lust. And his cock is winning over his mind, for when your free hand, watching him intently, reaches for the hardness straining against his breeches, giving it a stroke, his breath stutters into a groan whilst his hips push into your hand.

"Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine," he hums darkly. "Dragons take, or do you have too much of your Hightower cunt of a mother that you—"

You curl your hand over his cock until his breath hitches.

"I want a son. Surely you'd rather want for your true blood to sit on the Iron Throne? Your wife would remain Queen, her and her heir none the wiser. Any son of mine would be King regardless." Your voice is barely above whisper, stroking him as your squirm in his hold, his breath heavy by each promise, each tale you spin so tall. "Wouldn't you like that better? I am a Targaryen, as are you. Our blood would be pure."

"I have pureblooded sons, riñītsos little girl."

"But will they be king? With my husband as your wife's heir?" When his hold softens on your throat, you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him. "Wouldn't you want your family's legacy, your legacy, unsullied with prettier blood?

"I want a son, uncle," you whimper, thickened with need and desire, willing him to bend and fold because men like Daemon are easy, because a loving marriage is one thing, a man who holds his house as his pride in another fist is another. "I want your seed to take root in me."

And it isn't like you're asking him to betray his Queen.

Daemon is surprisingly a soft lover, prone in a way to worshipping you even as you had gotten impatient and tried to get your way. His punishments are quick and precise, a hit on your thigh, a tighter squeeze in your throat, a firm bite in your breast enough to draw blood. He's soft but by choice, almost as if he is amusing you in each caress while one hand is holding you by your hair, fucking you down into the sheets.

His words aren't better, spun in hisses and spits, mocking laughter and groans.

"Do you want my seed, you little whore?"

"What would your husband say now, his pretty wife mewling for another? Or would he even care?"

"Your tears are pretty, if you want my seed, I think you need to be sobbing, hm?"

When he finally spills inside of you with nothing less of a broken, guttural roar, hips chasing the high, meeting your sensitivity once, twice, again— you are shattered in pieces and contradictions, floating and wide awake, pleasured and in pain.

He slaps your face gently after he's cleaned himself up, tucked his flaccid cock back in his breeches as he comes to your eye line. "Come to me again when you want my seed, hm? I shall prioritise your wants for the good of the realm but I dare say—"

He cocks his head with a smirk, feeling stirrings at the sight of your fucked out state, his seed spilling from your pretty hole that he can't help himself as he chases it with a finger, forcefully pushing it back in while your body trembles and twitches.

"— you may be with child soon enough, niece. I shall congratulate you and my son with the happy news."

Your eyes flutter close at the echoes of his disappearing footsteps.

Nine moons later, through a hearty, blood-soaked birth that rocked the keep with your wails of pure pain— much more painful than when your girls had come into the world — a baby boy is born of pure Valyrian colouring.

A fat babe who cried murder in his first seconds of life, and it is Caraxes who snarls and screeches into the high noon sky.

"I shall name him Daemon," you say to your husband beside you as you beheld the babe with a wondrous smile and a full heart.

"After your brother and my father," Jace says, smiling. "That is wonderful, my wife. He does look much like them."

Your smile curls, a finger rubbing your babe's fat cheek. "He does. And he will be strong swordsman." Your lashes flutter to Jace, poisoned vowels in each word that he blinks, startled. "Just like his father."

TAGGED @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata @xxvelvetxxxx @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @bunbunbl0gs @yazzzmints @bellstwd @hiraethrhapsody @watercolorskyy @fulla02 @menaosama @cookielovesbook-akie

[kalbi-duam]

.. ZAMAN .. Her şeyi yıkayan şifalı bir su ' dur ...🥀

[saleeba]

Arguing with Levi over something stupid and ur honestly tired of the whole thing so you just him with “Whatever you say beautiful” and he just turns his nose up and starts stumbling over his words

summary ♡ what the request says! 

pairing ♡ levi colwill x gn!reader

content ♡ fluff, attempting to settle a classic british debate, cursing, reader is so over levi 

a/n ♡ this is most probably not the argumentative scenario that anon had in mind but i fell into my silly guy tendencies >_< tysmm anon for requesting this & i hope u enjoyyyy <3<3

it’s been over forty-five minutes of the same aggravation from your boyfriend, or at least you assume so — you stopped keeping tabs a while ago, so incredibly tired of arguing with him over something so silly. sunday afternoons were supposed an agreed time for relaxation but today’s snack time was far from that after levi clocked the way you prepare your scones.

“it’s clearly jam first; you spread that shit with a knife then dollop the cream on top,” levi’s hands move maniacally, mimicking the same actions that he’s describing. “how would cream first make sense?”

“i dunno, babe. spread the cream then dollop the jam?” between brief chews of sweet cream-first scones, your words come across as way too nonchalant for the chelsea boy and a shrug from your shoulders to pair with them makes him even more incredulous. 

“that’s fucking disgusting.” 

an exasperated groan leaves your lips as you push back the stool that you’re sitting on at the island and reach your destination of the fridge, routing through tubs and packets for a refreshing bottle of orange juice.

“levi, if you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” there’s silence from levi as the sound of juice pouring into glass fills the atmosphere, and you can tell the cogs of pettiness are turning in your boyfriend’s brain. it’s the way his eyes narrow at you (you swear that if he were a cartoon character, he’d be shooting lasers at you right now) and his bottom lip juts out just the slightest, thinking about how to get one over you since he actually does want to eat the sweet treats that you had gotten up extra early to make.

“no, no, i have to show you how to do it properly, yeah?” a little point of the butter knife in his hand at you and the boy’s now giving you an unsolicited demonstration of how to layer that jam-cream combo. “so, what you do, yeah, is put the knife into the jam jar and the–”

you seriously can’t take this anymore, fearful that your eyes may get stuck in your skull if you roll them one more time.

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say, beautiful.”

and it takes just that to have your boyfriend drop the butter knife in the jam, falling over his words as he struggles to get them out and make his case. it will always be the way you say that word and more so say it to him, about him, that will run his mouth dry of anything against you.

“uh, yeah, well… look, uh–” 

a playful smirk from you has his heart squeezing in the best way. 

“are we done here, levi? because i would really like us to stop arguing over fucking jam and cream and go cuddle on the couch now.” 

you call the shots every time and levi can’t help but drop his case entirely, following you like a lovesick puppy to the sofa where you’ve taken the plate of scones along with their matching condiments, laying them out on the coffee table for him.

“show us how it’s done then, pretty boy.”

[bluemerakis]

┃Welcome to The Boys masterlist┃

────────────────────────────────────

⤷ bluemerakis ᡣ𐭩

Who I write for: For now, I’m mainly writing for Billy Butcher, but I do intend to expand into other characters from The Boys!

Requests: Open

「 BILLY BUTCHER / KARL URBAN 」

FICS :

⌖

ONE SHOTS :

⌖ Scout’s Honour

⌖ Sittin’ pretty poolside ▫️▫️▫️

DRABBLES :

⌖ Thigh-highs

⌖ Soft!Billy caring for sick reader

IMAGINES :

⌖ Carnival for Kisses

⌖ Lover Boy Butcher

SMAUS :

⌖ Ranch getaway with bf!karlurban

⌖ BTS with The Boys cast

⌖ BTS Pete’s Dragon with bf!karlurban

EDITS :

⌖ 111

⌖ 222

⌖ 333

「 SOLDIER BOY / JENSEN ACKLES 」

ONE SHOTS:

⌖ Feelin’ fuckin’ fantastic

⌖ Feelin’ fuckin’ fantastic pt. 2…

DRABBLES:

⌖ Soldier Boy teaches non-smoker reader how to roll a blunt…

IMAGINES:

⌖

EDITS:

⌖ 111

⤷ All headers & dividers made by me!

「 BACK TO NAVIGATION 」

[amateursatelier]

SMITTEN TRIGUN 🍓 !

tw // mention of food combos.

smitten!vash who sometimes wakes you up in the middle of the night for a random surprise. one time the surprise being breakfast on a hot air balloon. you'll never figure out how he managed to do this.

smitten!vash who buys things that remind him of you either for himself or as a gift for you. this loving gedture never fails to make you swoon and he takes pride in your excitement everytime.

smitten!vash who tries any weird food combo you like without judgement. he's already got a pretty strange appetite, so rarely anything bothers him.

smitten!vash who takes one of your perfumes/lotions, so that when he's stressed or in despair, he receives an instant serotonin boost just by smelling ‘you’

smitten!vash who makes himself look like a major idiot in public after you say something awkward to protect you from a self-hatred session.

cashier: enjoy your food :)

you: you, too!….(shit) :(

vash to the cashier: I recommend the lobster, you'll love it ! ( ￣▽￣)

cashier: sir, this is dunkin’ donuts… :/

smitten!vash who knows he'll outlive you due to him not being human and decides to have a camera on him at all times to capture every domestic moment he's grateful to have with you.

smitten!vash who cherishes you as one of the reasons why humanity deserves to live on, your love strengthening his faith and belief in the world being made of love and peace.

────. ✰.° thank you for reading !

the reason why the title is "smitten trigun" is because I plan to turn this into a series because putting all the characters in one post felt too overwhelming... (￣з￣)

[cheryyy-valancce]

guys what if I made this into digital

on the right ignore me (your pfp inspired me)

I think it would look cute in digital!! 😋🥰 p.s. if you draw the one on the right in digital too, can i use it as my pfp for this month?? (* >ω<)

[uroko]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[swordymacaroni]

" nu-uh, gojo."

he pouts cutely. "it's true! i'm 6'3!"

"and i'm the queen of england," you giggle as you produce a tape measure.

he quirks his lips. "and what do i get if i am six three?"

"a thousand kisses from your beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking lover. "

his cheeky smile spreads across his face. "deal."

you stand on your tiptoes as your hold the tape to his head and secure the end with your foot.

gojo's hands rest on your waist, running teasing fingers under your shirt. "i'll be expecting those kisses anytime now."

you finally back away with a triumphant smile. "you lying liar. you're not six three!"

He huffs. "am too. had suguru measure me just last week."

you ignore his jests. "nope. you're only six two and a quarter inch." then you burst into a fit of cackles.

his mouth falls open. "you heartless, conniving woman!"

(maybe that quarter inch went somewhere else🤷‍♀️)

inspired off this

[mistress-riddle]

being in a relationship with tom is scary but not for the reason you think. he lures you in with his elegant and mysterious beauty and traps you only to absolutely yap your ear off, shattering any image you have perceived of him beforehand.