#for ¥580 i will do this again

[shoku-and-awe]

Finally tried a bento shop I’d been interested in for only like,,,,,,,, four years? Immediately, I appreciated the biodegradable container—so rare in Japan!—and it was such nice homestyle cooking, with a great balance. Stir-fried pork, tamagoyaki, ninjin shirishiri (Okinawan-style shredded carrots stir-fry), extremely garlicky eggplant, komatsuna greens with bonito flakes and myoga ginger, kabocha squash, mixed pickles, and rice with okaka (bonito flakes in soy sauce—very soul food flavors for Japan). Everything was fresh and tasty, especially for the price and volume, and they have all kinds of other dishes I want to try!

[luvlucia]

miniskirt - lhs

summary: when heeseung can't resist you in a miniskirt || warnings: dom!heeseung x sub!reader, unprotected sex, panties to the side, no foreplay, members are at the dorm, heeseung tells reader to quiet down (not in a mean way) || genre: smut, fluff, established relationship || word count: approximately 580 || a/n: see the request here!

When you'd come over to the dorm to spend time with your boyfriend, Heeseung, he wasn't expecting you to wear what you were wearing. It wasn't anything outlandish, in fact, it was a simple miniskirt. Heeseung couldn't help how his body reacted at the mere sight of you in that tiny little skirt. He couldn't help it. You'd never worn a skirt as short as this one before but he wasn't complaining.

When you greeted him at the door, giving him a kiss before walking to his room, Heeseung gave you a smack on the butt, saying a simple; "You look cute."

You were lying in his bed with him for a bit, and honestly, your outfit was in the back of his mind but he wasn't exactly entirely focused on it right now. He had to go to the bathroom quickly, so he got up and left the room, leaving the door open without a thought as he went to pee.

He stopped in the hallway at the sight of you when heading back to his room after using the restroom. You were lying with your back facing the open door. You were mindlessly scrolling on your phone, waiting for him to return, not noticing how your skirt had risen up a bit, revealing the bottom of your ass cheeks.

Heeseung walked inside, shutting the door behind him. He didn't bother locking it, urgent to get to you. Besides, he knew his members always knocked; especially when you were here.

He then got into bed again, laying against you, your back to his chest as you continued to scroll through your phone. Heeseung lies against you momentarily before bringing his hand over to your phone and shutting it off. You drop your phone on the mattress and turn to face him but he stops you.

"Just stay like this, baby." He says and you rest your head on the pillow again as he now moves his hand to the flesh of your ass, squeezing it under your skirt. He then moves to pull down his pants, his hard cock springing out. He grinds himself against you from behind for a moment, letting out sighs of pleasure before he grabs his shaft. He didn't have the patience for foreplay right now.

Heeseung moves your panties to the side, "Can I?" Heeseung asks, wanting to know if you were okay with him just fucking you without anything else.

"Mhm." You whimper out, heart nearly beating out of your chest in anticipation.

Heeseung then slowly slides himself inside. You reach back, holding onto his arm. He moves his arm so that it's resting over your stomach and you hold onto him as he slowly starts to move his hips.

As he fucks you, your moans start to get a little too loud so he moves his hand over your mouth to muffle it. "You know how much I love your moans but gotta be a little quieter. Okay, pretty? Can't let everyone know what we're doing right now, can we?" Heeseung softly says as he continues to fuck you.

"Mm, sorry." You say, not taking that personally, now more conscious of your sounds. In this instance, it made it kind of fun; having to be quiet, not letting anyone know what you were doing even though in reality, all of the members knew that a majority of the times that you were visiting them at the dorm, the two of you were doing something.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE PARTY || Lucien Flores x f!reader || 580 words

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON CON, unspecified age gap, unprotected piv.

Hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta reading😘

****

Your red lipstick is smeared all over his palm, but you’re not screaming anymore. Not with the way his thick cock slides in and out of your treacherously wet pussy.

“Yeah - yeah - yeah…” Lucien rasps into your ear with every thrust, “ya like it? Good girl.”

His strong fingers are digging into your left thigh leaving marks and pain in their wake as he’s holding your leg against his hip, opening you up for him to fuck. His fist bunches up the skirt of your red dress, the color of the flower he plucked off a bush for you just a few minutes ago. You thought he was sweet, not expecting him to turn into this monster, eyes boring into yours, gaze dark, carnal, hungry, as he’s ruthlessly using your pussy for his pleasure.

You should scream, must scream but can’t. Lucien’s pounding into you by the wall in a dark corner of the garden, and all you can do is whimper and take it like a good girl. Like he told you to.

You’re not sure anyone will hear you anyway, his violent act is concealed by the loud music of the party.

“Prancing around…tits almost out…swaying your sexy ass…been asking for it all night, little slut,”he’s growling in your ear as he slightly lifts your body against the wall, plunging his cock even deeper inside your channel. You cry out and start moaning clutching his silky shirt as his fat tip abuses your cervix with sharp strokes.

“Made me so hard…Fuck, you’re tight, baby.”

“Stop…,” you mewl helplessly but even you don’t believe yourself. Your mind has shut down some time ago, making you concentrate on the pleasure coursing through your body and relieving your psyche from the horror of his lewd act. At least for now.

Lucien laughs at your plea, the hoarse sound interrupted by his breathy moan as his cock finally erupts and he shoots his cum deep inside your burning core.

He pumps you full of his warm seed still rolling his hips as your pussy squelches around his pulsating length.

Finally he stills, pulls his cock out and lowers you down. Your shaky legs give up and you would surely fall if not for his strong arms catching you and holding you up.

He chuckles through the heavy panting,

“Fucked you good, huh?”

You try to stumble away from him but he pushes you back against the wall, pinning you to the cold hard surface yet again.

“Did you come? Don’t think so,” he says lifting up your skirt for the second time this night and you start sobbing.

“Shh, don’t cry…my girls always come.”

In a second his fingers are rubbing your hardened clit using his cum dripping out of your hole as lube and soon you unravel under his touch, shaking, moaning, hating him and your body for succumbing to his ministrations so easily.

Finally satisfied he slides his big hands up your sides and wraps them around your neck, thumbs gently rubbing your jaw. Cold blown eyes locked with yours, he gives your throat a light squeeze and makes your heart freeze with terror when he growls,

“One word about this and I’ll tell your dad his little girl seduced his best friend. I still have your nudes as proof.”

He gently kisses you, taste of champagne and cigarettes on his lips, and then whispers against the corner of your mouth before leaving,

“Happy Birthday, baby.”

*****

Thank you for reading💖

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated🌸

MASTERLIST

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre

[chunniwritesalot]

mrs. alonso - fa14 smau - part 2

i jut cant help myself chat

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 a

cw: nothing really! none of the photos used except the one below this is mine! all of them are from pinterest

fernando and y/n have been married for 18 years now, but their love has been the same since they met 26 years ago.

information: spanish speaking! reader, fem! reader, you have 2 daughters- one is 18 and one is 5. you and claire ann stroll are best friends! this is really just how i see old people using social medias 😭

Francesca or Fran is your OLDER daughter and Rubi is your YOUNGER daughter.

(in the tweets it was y/o/d which stood for your older daughter but i ultimately decided to name the kids just so it was a little easier for me! i don’t feel like changing the tweets so…)

-start-

---

"mama!" fran called out as she walked downstairs into the kitchen. rubi was doing her homework at the counter as fernando and y/n cooked dinner- some seafood dish that smelled absolutely amazing. fran plopped herself down on the seat next to her younger sister and watched her parents. fernando turned to her from the stove and raised an eyebrow, "hm mami?" he asked her. the oldest daughter rolled her eyes, "papa, i wasn't talking to you" she sighed, fernando grinned, shaking his head, "mama and i are basically the same" he chimed, turning back to the stove, y/n chuckled and turned to fran "yes, mija?" she asked, smiling at her eldest, she was such an angel. fran pulled out her phone and showed her mother the tweet. y/n frowned, "no posts from mrs. alonso?" she read out, raising her eyebrow, "posts from what? why are they getting weaker? do you know this person?"

francesca sighed, "mama they want you to post on your instagram, thats what they mean."

y/n's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, "hmph, i didn't know people were waiting on me to post... fernando, did you know this?" fernando frowned himself, turning away from the stove once again, "no i didn't know this fact." he too, leaning forward to read the tweet on fran’s phone. he shrugged, "tal vez sea una señal (maybe its a sign)"

---

y/nalonso has posted!

liked by franalo14, landonorris, lance_stroll, fernandoalo_offical, claireannstroll, and 506,980 others

y/nalonso Mi post en Instagram...😘😮

(translation: My post on Instagram)

tagged: @/franalo14 @/fernandoalo_official @/chloestroll @/lance_stroll @/claireannstroll @/lewishamilton @/logansargeant

view comments...

franalo14 everyone thank me!

user1 thank you fran user2 thank you fran user3 thank you fran user4 thank you fran user6, user6, user7, and 580 others have responded...

lance_stroll I MADE IT INTO THE FAMILY POSTS 🤩😍

y/nalonso Hello mijo, please come over...Rubi misses you...thank you...🙃🙃 lance_stroll sounds good...😨 user8 HELP SAVE LANCE NOW.

lewishamilton Thanks for the dinner invite! Amazing food 🙌🙌

fernandoalo_official Thank you Lewis😛 lewishamilton I wasn't talking to you 😅 fernandoalo_official Oh.......😫😥

claireannstroll Amazing photos sister...😘🥰 Come over tomorrow for lunch👯‍♀️👩‍🍳

y/nalonso Sounds like a plan, I will bring some wine Fernando got from Italy...May need to stay over! Can not drive drunk😂😂😂🍷😵 claireannstroll L.O.L!! Sounds risky...😎😏😹 user9 oh to be invited to the stroll alonso hangouts franalo14 @/user9, trust me you do not want to be invited.

fernandoalo_official So hot😫😍

fernandoalo_official No puedo dejar de pensar en ti...😏😲 (translation: I can't stop thinking about you)

fernandoalo_official Eres el postre perfecto para una cena romántica 😍😋 (translation: You’re the perfect dessert for a romantic dinner) <thank you to the anon that helped me translate this 💗> user10 why is nando replying to himself this cannot be real

y/nalonso Thank you husband😏🤪🥺

user11 MRS. ALONSO YOU HAVE TO REPLY TO THE COMMENT 😭 y/nalonso Oh...please do not cry at my mistake...I am very sorry😯😓💗 user11 @/y/nalonso wait mother im sorry 💔 user12 @/user11 shes a little confused but she got the spirit

chloestroll such a fun beach trip with you, aunt y/n! can't wait to see you again soon 💕💕

y/nalonso You must come soon...😉

user13 mother has blessed us again!

oscarpiastri mom said thanks for the recipe mrs. alonso

y/nalonso Please tell Nicole to come over again...Oscar... oscarpiastri 😦

logansargeant thank you for inviting riley and i for dinner 😁

y/nalonso Please come again soon, mijo... food will be hard to come by when you are unemployed logansargeant oh... 😨 riley_whittal HELP? user14 SHE VIOLATED LOGAN LIKE IT WAS NOTHING

carlossainz55 ¡Qué bueno verte! (great seeing you!)

fernandoalo_official ¿Cómo te sientes? (how do you feel) carlossainz55 He arruinado mi vida. (i have ruined my life) fernandoalo_official 😬😬

maxverstappen1 P wants to see Rubi again!

y/nalonso Let us arrange a playdate. Rubi likes playing the Dressing game on Robux🎮🎮with P🫛I am in 🇲🇨on the 13-20th.Please text my number Max…

maxverstappen1 Yeah… sounds good 🤨😂

-fin-

my requests are open! if you want to see something special done w this series dont be afraid to ask :)

[kunajou]

❥ Wan' You So Bad

» RATING › 18+ [M I N O R S D O N O T I N T E R A C T] » GENRE(S) › smut » PAIRING(S) › choso x f!reader » WORD(S) › 580 » SYNOPSIS › choso wants you however he can have you. » SMUT WARNING(S) › feral!choso, penetration, light mention of squirting, clit play, praise!kink choso, pet names (sugar), domestic » POST DATE › 03/05/2024

thank you for reading! & remember: you nice, keep going.❤️ › masterlist ‹

I love the thought of Choso being so feral for you once the two of you make it official (and even a little bit before then). It's such an adorable thing. You could be washing dishes and he will just walk up to you and give you a back huge while kissing down your neck. Laundry? On more than one occasion, he has had you bent over the dryer while moaning about how you can’t get things done. You have to review your student assignments? That’s fine! He doesn’t mind. Especially when he can slip your panties to the side (or even better) when you don’t have any on because of your sexcapades the night before.

“You feel so good…” He would whine in your ear, leaning against your body to have enough room to maneuver you like he wants. “I don’t want anyone else.”

You chuckle, feeling him lay against your back. His body heat works in overdrive as you reach back to caress his face.

“Me neither, baby.” You twist your face the moment he leans forward to capture your lips as he moans into them. You nip at his bottom lip as he releases a soft gasp, his hands tightening against your hip. “You’re all I want.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” You smile softly the moment he growls, the speed at which his hips pound against you increases and you can’t do much but take what he’s giving you. You groan when he hits that spot, making your leg shake and your toes curl. “Fuck, Choso,” You sigh in contentment feeling the hot pressure building in your stomach. You're so damn close but before you can cum, he spins you around to face him.

“I wanna see your face when you cum all over me.”

It’s a simple request. One that has you throwing your arms around Choso’s neck for leverage.

“Then make me cum, Sugar.”

He groans, picking up his pace once more when he’s got you settled in a position that will help you cum faster. As much as he loves your arms wrapped around him, he moves them in favor of wrapping his arms around your legs. He tosses them over his forearms and bends them back as he's able to get an unforgettable view of how your pussy swallows his cock whole. He licks his lips, thrusting forward in a manner that has your head falling backward and your moans growing in octaves.

“I’m so fucking close.” You tell him as he leans forward to leave kisses along your lips, jaw and any other place he feels needs his love. It makes you giggle in return and fucking hell, he loves the sounds you make for him. “Ah, y-yes... A little to the right, baby.”

He's quick to follow your directions and as soon as he pulls back to thrust forward again, you’re seeing stars. Your moans are much louder, your grip is tighter and he can feel the way your pussy is begging for him to keep going. Pulsing around him and squeezing him tighter as your nails dig into the bed.

He reaches his hand between the two of you to rub your clit a bit faster as your body stills, head thrown back as far as you can go and you begin to shake. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and for a second, Choso is confused because why did it get so much wetter?

“H-Holy shit."

A/N ➳ Tell me what you think! I absolutely love Choso ever since he was introduced and well yeah! I hope you like it! xoxo © GOJOLATTE 2024 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED  PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, ReUpload, or Steal ANY of my work. Thank You, Beautiful People!

[novaursa]

The Chains We Break

- Summary: Otto Hightower comes to negotiate the release of his son. Daemon does not humor him. But you and your sister are dragons as well, who answer to neither gods or men.

- Paring: Gwanye Hightower/trag!reader/one-sided Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and was bonded with Silverwing. These events happen right after The Flames We Share. If you want to read all parts before this one in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mild 13+ (chapters that follow will be rated higher)

- Word count: 4 580

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

You sit beside your sister, your gaze cast toward the window where the distant waves of the sea crash against the shores of Dragonstone. The sunlight, filtered through heavy clouds, is gentle on your skin as the salt air brushes your face. The wounds you sustained at Rook’s Rest have begun to heal—your body mending faster than your spirit. Every breath still carries a phantom ache, reminding you of how you fell from Silverwing’s back, the cries of dragons echoing in your ears as death nearly claimed you.

Rhaenyra sits close, her face etched with remorse. She hasn’t been the same since Rook’s Rest, the burden of guilt gnawing at her. You see it in the way her fingers fidget, how she can’t meet your eyes for long before looking away. She’s your sister—your queen—and you know the weight she carries. But you do not hold her responsible for the choices that led to that fateful battle. It was war, and war spares no one, even the innocent.

“I should have never let you go,” Rhaenyra whispers, her voice thick with regret. “It should have been Rhaenys. Not you. It was my decision that put you in harm’s way.”

“Rhaenyra,” you reply, your tone soft but firm. “You did what you thought was right. We cannot turn back time, nor can we carry blame that doesn’t belong. It was my choice, too. And I would do it again, even knowing the cost.”

Your words hang in the air, but they do little to soothe her troubled heart. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until you find the courage to speak what has truly been gnawing at you.

“Gwayne Hightower,” you begin, lifting your eyes to meet hers. “You must release him from the dungeons.”

Rhaenyra’s expression tightens at the name. The guilt in her eyes shifts to something more conflicted, more political. “It isn’t as simple as that, Y/N. He betrayed his own House, his blood, to bring you back here. Daemon—”

“Daemon,” you interrupt, bitterness lacing your tone despite your attempt to remain calm. “Daemon has imprisoned him, forbade me from even setting foot near the dungeons. He practically bought the loyalty of the guards to keep me away! But you are the Queen, Rhaenyra. Daemon may be my husband, but you hold the power.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrows, and for a moment, the sister you know peeks through the layers of the ruler she has become. “And if I were to free him, what then? Daemon will see it as defiance. You know how he is—he will not take kindly to having his authority challenged, even by me.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Gwayne, alone and confined, after all he sacrificed for you. A man who went against everything he was raised to believe to save you from certain death, only to be thrown into a cell by the very people he saved you for. “He did not deserve this. He did what he did for me, and now he is paying the price. Rhaenyra, please. He doesn’t deserve to rot in those dungeons. He saved my life.”

Before she can respond, Grand Maester Gerardys enters, his expression grim. “Your Grace,” he says with a deep bow. “A ship bearing the banners of Aegon II has docked in the harbor. Prince Daemon has gone to meet them, with his men.”

Rhaenyra stiffens, but your thoughts drift to Daemon, and what this meeting could mean. Your gaze darkens at the thought of your husband—how he holds Gwayne’s fate in his hands. He’s always been a tempestuous man, fierce and unyielding. The very traits that once drew you to him now feel like iron chains wrapped around your heart.

You watch as Gerardys takes his leave, the room falling silent once more. “Daemon may be the one to hold him prisoner, but I will not let this stand,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Rhaenyra. The decision settles like a stone in your chest. You have to do something. You owe Gwayne that much.

Daemon strides down the rocky path that leads toward the harbor, his cloak snapping in the breeze. The sea roars beneath, a fitting backdrop to the turmoil within his mind. His steps are sure, his presence commanding as always, but there is a tension between his shoulders—an unease that’s hard to shake. Vaeron, your son, walks beside him, mirroring his posture. Boy’s gaze is distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, but he keeps stride with Daemon, a silent observer to the storm brewing within.

“Remember what I’ve taught you,” Daemon says, his voice low but carrying authority. “In these dealings, never let them see weakness. We do not bend to those who would see us destroyed.”

Vaeron nods, but his thoughts are torn. He has spent his life idolizing Daemon, the man he believed to be his father. But now that illusion is shattered, replaced by the knowledge that his true father sits rotting in the dungeons beneath their feet. The revelation has left him conflicted, struggling to reconcile the man he loves with the man who has imprisoned his blood.

“What will you do with him?” Vaeron asks, his voice careful, testing the waters.

Daemon’s eyes flicker with a dangerous light. “With Otto Hightower? Or with the man who abandoned his oaths to save your mother?”

“The latter,” Vaeron clarifies, though he knows the question risks Daemon’s ire.

Daemon’s expression hardens. “Gwayne Hightower is a traitor, no matter his reasons. He made his choice when he turned his back on the Greens. Such a man is not to be trusted lightly.”

“And yet he saved her,” Vaeron says, his voice dropping. “Would you have let her die, had he not intervened?”

Daemon’s steps slow, and he turns to face Vaeron, his eyes narrowing. “Mind your tongue, boy. There are things you do not understand.”

“I understand enough,” Vaeron counters, his voice tinged with defiance. “You taught me that loyalty is everything. But Gwayne’s loyalty was to her, not to a cause, not to a side in this war. Can you not see the worth in that?”

Daemon’s jaw clenches, his patience fraying. “You forget yourself, Vaeron. This war is not a matter of sentiment. Your mother’s survival matters because of what she represents—our family, our claim. If you think Gwayne Hightower acted out of love, then you are as naive as you are young.”

Vaeron’s hands curl into fists at his sides, but he keeps his emotions in check. This is the man who raised him, who taught him strength, yet in this moment, all he feels is a cold distance between them. Daemon sees only the war, the struggle for power. But Vaeron sees something else—something more human in the man who risked everything for his mother.

As they near the harbor, the banners of Aegon II come into view, and with them, Otto Hightower’s grim countenance. Daemon’s focus sharpens, his thoughts already turning to the game of strategy ahead. Vaeron falls silent, but in his heart, the conflict festers. 

The wind whips through the banners of Aegon II as they flutter in the sharp sea breeze, the air thick with tension. Otto Hightower stands at the head of his retinue, his face carved from stone, the faintest flicker of unease buried deep within his shrewd eyes. He is older now, his hair nearly all grey, but the calculating sharpness in his gaze has not dulled. Daemon approaches with that characteristic swagger, a predator prowling toward prey, flanked by his guards and with Vaeron at his side. The contrast between them is stark—Daemon, vibrant in his ruthlessness, while Otto wears the weariness of his long-fought battles.

Otto speaks first, his voice carrying the authority of years spent in the small council chamber, dictating the fates of lesser men. "Prince Daemon, I come on behalf of my King to negotiate the release of my son, Ser Gwayne Hightower."

Daemon’s lips curl into a mocking smile. "Negotiate?" He laughs, the sound rough and laced with dark humor. "You truly believe you are in any position to negotiate, old man? What is it that you offer in exchange for a traitor? Perhaps another decrepit stronghold that falls to ruin as we speak?"

Otto's jaw tightens, but he remains composed, his voice cool. "You underestimate what Gwayne’s return means to the Greens. A gesture of goodwill in such tumultuous times could open pathways you might find advantageous."

Daemon’s amusement only grows, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Goodwill? From you? That’s as valuable as a beggar’s coin. Come now, Otto, surely you didn’t travel all this way just to insult my intelligence. Speak plainly, before I grow bored and send you back to King’s Landing with nothing more than salt air in your lungs."

Vaeron stands to the side, his gaze flicking between the two men. Inside, a storm churns. He has known Daemon’s temper his whole life, the simmering cruelty always ready to break the surface. Yet today, that same temperament is turned toward negotiations that directly concern the man who is his true father. The words spoken twist in his mind—‘traitor,’ ‘exchange,’ as if Gwayne were nothing more than a pawn to be bartered, his life subject to whims and strategies. Vaeron keeps his expression neutral, as Daemon taught him, but beneath it all, the confusion gnaws at him.

Otto, sensing that he must tread carefully, adjusts his approach. "You dismiss too quickly what might be gained from a show of mercy, Prince Daemon. Your position, while strong, is not unassailable. A trade, even a gesture, could ease the tension between our forces. And you would gain much in return for sparing Gwayne’s life."

Daemon narrows his eyes, his amusement slipping away, replaced by cold calculation. "And what is it that you think I desire so much that I would let a Hightower return to his family? More land? An empty promise of peace? We both know that Gwayne’s life is worth more to you than any temporary truce you could offer."

Otto’s voice drops lower, becoming the tone of a man who has orchestrated more than one coup from the shadows. "There are things we could discuss—terms that could shift the tide of this war, perhaps even ending it in a way that leaves the realm less fractured. Aegon is willing to be reasonable if it means preserving our shared interests."

Daemon’s smile returns, this time sharper, more dangerous. "You think I care for shared interests? I care only for victory—unquestionable, complete. I care for the destruction of every man, woman, and child who stands between me and that victory. Gwayne’s life is a grain of sand on that battlefield. You know it, and so do I. The only reason he breathes is because my wife begged me not to have his head on a spike the moment he arrived on Dragonstone."

Vaeron stiffens, eyes fixed on Daemon’s profile, a silent witness to the deep ruthlessness within the man he once saw only as a hero. But now, he sees the cracks—how Daemon views everyone as a piece to be sacrificed for his goals, no matter the cost to their souls. He swallows hard, forcing his voice to remain steady. "And what of mercy, Father? Does it not hold any value in this war? Or is it all to be blood and fire until none are left standing?"

Daemon turns sharply to regard Vaeron, his expression unreadable, a flash of something indiscernible crossing his eyes. "Mercy is for the weak, boy. Those who offer it do so only when they have nothing left to give. Do you believe Gwayne deserves mercy for betraying his family, his House, for a fleeting moment of sentiment?"

Vaeron meets Daemon’s gaze, unflinching. "I believe that loyalty beyond reason deserves acknowledgment. Even in war, there are choices that define a man. He chose her—he chose my mother. If that is treason, then perhaps we are all traitors in our own ways."

Daemon studies his son with a shrewd gaze, weighing those words. The silence stretches until Otto steps forward, seizing the opening Vaeron has created.

“Let me look upon my son, Prince Daemon. Let me see the man who has caused this… conflict. If nothing else, I would know whether the man I seek to retrieve is worth the trouble. Bring him up from those dungeons, and if you wish, you can watch as I confront what my son has become.”

The corners of Daemon’s mouth twitch upward in a grin that holds no mirth, only cold amusement. “Very well, Otto. I’ll indulge this request. Let you see what has become of the son you so poorly raised. But do not mistake this for mercy, nor a sign of weakness.”

He turns to one of his men, gesturing with a flick of his hand. “Bring him up, but keep him chained. Let his father see what the consequences are for those who betray their kin for a moment’s folly.”

As the command is relayed, Otto’s mask of composure remains intact, but there is something strained in the tightness around his mouth. Vaeron watches, his heart pounding, knowing that soon he will come face-to-face once more with the man who has haunted his thoughts since learning the truth. The man who is more than just his mother’s savior but is also the father he never knew.

The minutes stretch painfully, each one heavy with anticipation. The creak of footsteps echoes through the stone as the guards finally return, dragging Gwayne Hightower from the depths. The man who emerges is a shadow of the knight he once was—his face gaunt, his clothes tattered, and his once-proud bearing diminished beneath the weight of his chains. But despite his disheveled state, there is a spark in Gwayne’s eyes, a defiance that has not been extinguished.

Otto’s gaze is icy, but there is a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or shame—as he regards the man before him. “You’ve disgraced us all, Gwayne. For what? For a woman who was never yours to protect?”

Gwayne’s voice is hoarse from disuse, but it still carries strength. “For a woman worth more than all the crowns and thrones in the world. If that is a disgrace, then so be it.”

Daemon’s laughter rings out, cold and mocking. “Hear that, Otto? Even chained and broken, he clings to his foolish convictions. This is what you came for—this pathetic display of misguided loyalty.”

Vaeron watches the exchange, torn between anger and a deep, aching sadness. The man before him is no longer the fearsome knight from the stories but a father who sacrificed everything for a fleeting chance to save someone he loved. The realization sinks in like a stone—this war, this endless cycle of violence, leaves no room for anything as simple as honor or love. It’s all twisted, corrupted by the ambitions of those who claim to know best.

The tension in the air crackles like the distant storm clouds gathering over the horizon. Gwayne Hightower stands before his father, closer now than he has been in years, his once-strong frame worn by weeks of confinement. He walks with a limp, the weight of chains dragging at his wrists, but there is still a pride in his bearing, a defiant spark that refuses to die.

Daemon watches the exchange with a calculating smile, his eyes flicking between father and son, delighting in the bitter reunion. 

Otto closes the distance, gripping Gwayne by the arm with a roughness that belies the controlled facade he wears. The old man’s eyes burn with a fury tempered by long years of cold, strategic thinking. “Have you lost your mind, Gwayne?” he hisses, his voice low, sharp as a dagger’s edge. “All your life, you’ve chased after her like some lovesick fool. You could never accept that Viserys refused your suit, that she was never meant for you!”

Gwayne’s expression barely shifts, but the muscle in his jaw twitches, a hint of the rage he has long kept buried beneath duty and restraint. He leans closer, ignoring the sting of Otto’s grip, and murmurs, his voice so low only his father can hear, “The boy standing next to Daemon is my son, Father. And that is all that matters now. My fate is inconsequential.”

Otto’s eyes widen, his breath catching as though he has been struck. For a moment, his iron composure fractures, disbelief and horror warring on his face. He releases Gwayne, recoiling as if the revelation has physically burned him. His gaze snaps toward Vaeron, the truth now laid bare, searing into him like a brand. The boy—no, the young man—is not just the child of Daemon’s wife; he is a Hightower. His grandson.

Vaeron meets Otto’s gaze briefly, not fully understanding what has just transpired but sensing the seismic shift in the atmosphere. Daemon notices the exchange and narrows his eyes, his amusement giving way to suspicion. His grip tightens on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to end this farce with a single stroke.

Otto recovers quickly, his face once again a mask of practiced indifference, but there is a tremor in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. “You’ve doomed us all, Gwayne. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You threw away everything—your name, your family’s honor, for what? To save a woman who could never be yours? A child you will never truly claim?”

Gwayne’s gaze is steady, unflinching. “I would do it again, Father. A thousand times over if it meant protecting her and our son. You can call me mad, you can brand me a traitor, but I regret nothing.”

Otto’s eyes darken as he processes the full scope of what has been revealed. He turns slowly to Daemon, who watches him with the cold eyes of a dragon ready to pounce. Otto studies Vaeron with renewed interest, seeing him now not just as a pawn but as a potential key to unraveling this web. He tries to capitalize on this revelation, his voice taking on a more calculated tone. “It seems, Prince Daemon, that the boy you’ve raised as your own has more complicated parentage than we knew. Perhaps this presents an opportunity—one that—”

Daemon’s face hardens instantly, his lips curling into a snarl. “Do not presume to speak of him as a bargaining chip, Hightower. I care nothing for your intrigues, nor do I care for whatever misguided sentiment your son clings to.” He steps forward, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You came for your son, and I’ve given you this moment to see the disgrace he has become. But do not mistake this for weakness. Gwayne Hightower is nothing more than a broken tool, and I’ve no use for broken things.”

Otto opens his mouth to argue, but the steel in Daemon’s eyes leaves no room for discussion. He knows better than to push further when the dragon’s teeth are bared. Reluctantly, he pulls back, the wheels of strategy already turning in his mind, but knowing this is not the moment to press.

Daemon turns sharply to his guards. “Take him back to the dungeons. Let him rot where he belongs.”

The guards move swiftly, seizing Gwayne by the arms. Before they drag him away, Gwayne locks eyes with Vaeron one last time, a silent exchange passing between them. There is no plea for understanding, no attempt at explaining what words cannot convey. Just a look—a father recognizing his son, and a son realizing the depth of what was sacrificed for him.

The confrontation ends not in bloodshed, but with Daemon’s final, sardonic remark. “You’ve seen your son, Otto. Now crawl back to King’s Landing and tell your king that mercy is the last thing you’ll ever find on Dragonstone.”

Otto holds his gaze for a moment longer, then turns on his heel, a man who has measured his options and found them lacking. As he departs, Gwayne is dragged back toward the dungeons, his chains rattling with every step. 

In that instant, Vaeron knows that the next time they meet, it will not be as strangers, but as something far more complicated—something that even Daemon may not be able to control.

The clinking of chains and the rough shuffling of boots against stone echo through the courtyard as Gwayne is dragged back toward the dungeons. His face is set in grim determination, resigned to his fate, yet his eyes still hold that spark—the fire of a man who has found something more precious than victory in war. The guards are silent, their expressions hard and unreadable, loyal to their prince’s orders, despite whatever inner conflict they may harbor.

But as they round a corner, the way is blocked. Standing firm are Rhaenyra and you, their Queen and her sister. The two women’s presence immediately shifts the air, tension snapping taut like a drawn bowstring. The guards pause, uncertain, as their gazes flicker between Rhaenyra’s command and the one issued earlier by Daemon.

Rhaenyra’s voice rings out, clear and commanding. “Release him to Otto Hightower. He is to leave Dragonstone at once.”

The guards stiffen, the weight of conflicting orders hanging heavy on their shoulders. “Your Grace,” one of them ventures, his voice laced with hesitation, “Prince Daemon’s orders were clear. Ser Gwayne is not to be released.”

You step forward, eyes blazing with resolve. “And who is your Queen? Who commands this keep? You will do as she says or face the consequences. Daemon’s orders hold no weight when the Queen herself speaks.”

There’s a moment of palpable tension as the guards exchange uncertain glances. But the authority in Rhaenyra’s gaze, coupled with your fierce insistence, finally breaks their hesitation. They nod reluctantly and begin to unshackle Gwayne, their hands shaking slightly as they fumble with the locks.

Gwayne breathes out a quiet sigh, rubbing his wrists where the heavy manacles have left raw marks. He looks to you, a softness in his gaze that defies the bleakness of the situation. You step closer, the world around you narrowing to just the two of you in that instant. His eyes hold yours, and in them, you see the unspoken words, the regret, the love, and the inevitable farewell.

“This is not the end,” Gwayne murmurs, his voice rough but steady, his eyes gleaming with quiet intensity. “If my nephew has any mercy left in him, I will find a way to return. But if not… know that protecting you was worth everything. Every sacrifice.”

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly, resting it against his chest where you can feel the steady, yet faint, beat of his heart. “You’re the only reason I’m alive, Gwayne. You risked everything for me, and I won’t forget it. No matter what happens next.”

He leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and whispers, “Remember me, Y/N. And if this war ever ends, perhaps fate will be kinder to us in another life.”

Your eyes sting with unshed tears, but you manage a faint smile, brushing your thumb gently over his cheek in a rare display of affection. “I will. I promise.”

Before either of you can say more, the guards hastily usher him toward the docks, anxious to see him gone before Daemon can intervene. Gwayne casts one last lingering glance over his shoulder, a look full of unspoken promises and finality, before he is led away.

As they escort him down the winding paths toward the ship, the sails already being unfurled, Daemon and Vaeron catch sight of the commotion from a distance. Daemon’s eyes narrow dangerously as he realizes what is happening. His fury builds like a storm, the anger practically radiating off him as he strides toward the scene, Vaeron following, his own emotions churning in the wake of what has transpired.

As Gwayne passes by Daemon, their eyes lock for a brief moment. Gwayne’s lips twitch into a faint, knowing smirk—one that speaks volumes, a silent challenge, as if to say, You didn’t win this time. It’s a gesture that only fuels Daemon’s rage, the dragon within him rearing its head.

Daemon’s hand tightens on the hilt of Dark Sister, his knuckles white with fury, but before he can draw it, Gwayne is gone, escorted swiftly onto the ship where Otto waits with grim satisfaction. The gangplank is raised, and the ship begins to pull away from the harbor, sails billowing as it heads back toward the horizon.

With the Hightower entourage retreating, Daemon’s fury turns on Rhaenyra and you. He storms up to the two of you, his eyes blazing, voice like thunder. “What in the name of all the gods are you doing, woman? Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

Rhaenyra stands her ground, unyielding, her chin lifted defiantly. “I did what was right, Daemon. Ser Gwayne Hightower saved my sister’s life at Rook’s Rest, and I will not be the one to condemn him to rot in chains for it. Let the Greens decide his fate now. It’s no longer our concern.”

Daemon’s glare shifts from Rhaenyra to you, his gaze scorching with silent accusation. The promise of a reckoning lingers in his eyes, a vow that this conversation between you and him is far from over. But he turns back to Rhaenyra, the anger in his voice uncontainable. “You’ve weakened our position, Rhaenyra. Do you not see what this act of so-called mercy has cost us? We hold every advantage, and now you hand them back one of their own, giving them hope when we should be crushing it.”

Rhaenyra’s voice remains steady, firm in her conviction. “Hope may be our enemy, but I will not sacrifice decency for the sake of cruelty. This war has already claimed enough souls—if showing mercy weakens us in your eyes, then so be it. But I will not let this conflict strip us of our humanity.”

Daemon’s eyes flash dangerously, his rage palpable, but even in his fury, he knows better than to challenge her publicly. The exchange bristles with barely restrained venom, both of them locked in a clash of wills, neither willing to yield. But it’s clear that this is a rift that will not be easily mended.

Vaeron, who has watched it all unfold in silence, feels a small surge of triumph swell in his chest. For the first time, his mother acted on her own terms, free from Daemon’s influence. The knowledge that Gwayne is safe, at least for now, is a balm to his inner turmoil. Yet, even in his moment of quiet victory, he knows that the repercussions of this day will ripple far beyond the shores of Dragonstone.

Daemon finally steps back, his gaze returning to you, the promise of confrontation lingering like smoke in the air. “This is not over,” he hisses, his words directed more at you than at Rhaenyra. Then, without another word, he turns and stalks off, his rage still burning as he disappears from view.

The ship grows smaller on the horizon, taking with it the man who dared defy every loyalty, every oath, for the sake of love. And in that moment, you know that whatever happens next, the war has shifted—not because of power or strategy, but because of the choices made out of love and loyalty. Choices that may very well reshape the fate of everyone involved.

[lebrookestore]

backburner | n.jm (teaser)

Pairing: Na Jaemin x reader

Themes: college! au, exes! au, the situationship vibes are STRONG, angst, fluff, exes to ???, reader is a serial overthinker.

Warnings: profanity, heavy ANGST, kissing, food, underage alcohol consumption and alcohol consumption in general, jaemin is lowkey an asshole, more to be added for the full fic.

Word count for teaser: 580 | Estimated word count: 12-15k

Summary: After three months of ignoring your presence entirely, Na Jaemin saunters right back into your life without so much as single warning, leaving you to once again pick up the pieces of your burning heart.

Notes from brooke: a late christmas present from me<3 i'm back to writing my college aus so i hope all of you will enjoy my pain (literally).

[send an ask to be added to the taglist!]

It was one in the morning when your phone rang.

A sigh left your chapped lips as you glanced down from the screen of your laptop to the device sitting by its side, your eyes burning at the too bright light emitting from your phone. The rest of your dorm was dark, having switched the lights off earlier at the request of your roommate, who had an early class the next day. 

Unfortunately for you, you had an assignment due the next day that you had, as usual, left for the last minute. Music played through your headphones as you tried to construct what you deemed a coherent enough essay to submit. 

Scrambling so you wouldn’t wake your roommate up, you pushed your headphones off and swiped the call icon across the screen of your phone, accepting it a second before you registered who the caller was. The contact glared at you as if it was mocking you for your carelessness and hastiness, causing you to bite down hard on the inside of your cheek.

Well. It was too late now.

Swallowing hard, you held your phone up to your ear and whispered. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

A breath you didn’t know you had been holding in escaped from your lips, having you shut your eyes and process his voice. It was funny, how just one inconsequential word from a single person could change your entire disposition.

“Jaemin? Are you okay?”

He hummed in response. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I might be a little tipsy though.”

You could just imagine him right then, a glass being gripped loosely by his fingers, leaning against some wall as he spoke to you over the phone. The image was enough that you slipped out of your bed and pacing about your room as quietly as you could, restless.

“Oh. Um, don’t drink too much.”

He chuckled, a sound so familiar yet so distant to you. “I won’t, don’t worry.” 

Jaemin liked alcohol, you knew this much. He liked the way it would slowly hit his head and render him more easy going than he already was, causing that pretty smile of his to show more liberally. You were well versed with everything about him, from his walk to the way his eyes would express everything he was thinking, the slightly changes making themselves completely obvious for you,

The two of you had been so in tune with each other. Sometimes, you forgot how easy that made it for it all to fall apart.

“Okay.” You weren’t really sure where you were supposed to go with this conversation anymore. “Do you need something?”

“Not really.”

“Then….then why did you call me?” Bewilderment crept into your voice as clear as day. If you were in front of him right then, perhaps he would have teased you, tucking your hair behind your ear and muttering something about how cute you were. 

He stayed silent for a moment. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You stopped your pacing, coming to a standstill as his words settled over you. In the silence of the night, you were almost too aware of the way your heart rate increased ever so slightly.

Yunjin was right. There was hardly ever a time where your best friend’s advice wasn’t spot on, but this time you found yourself wishing you had complied and actually blocked him like she had suggested you do. Maybe then you wouldn’t have found yourself in such a position. 

coming soon. | lebrookestore 2024

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: Hii can I request a jealous!max verstappen x reader where they’re secretly dating but the other drivers keep flirting with her lol (anonymous)

Word Count: 580 words

(author's note: first f1 fic, i hope you all enjoy !! 🫶)

When Max and Y/N finally started dating, Max requested one thing from his girlfriend; they kept their relationship private. Y/N had agreed immediately, understanding that life as an F1 driver’s girlfriend could become stressful at times.

However, Max began to regret his decision when he spotted Y/N and Charles talking animatedly outside the Ferrari garage. He stood watching from afar, grinding his teeth in annoyance.

“So Max is taking you to Bali? That’s nice,” Charles commented, smiling at the woman in front of him.

“Yes, he is! When he heard it’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to go, he booked the tickets immediately. We’re going together at the start of the off-season.”

“That is the most Max thing I’ve ever heard. I'm excited for you, though, Bali’s gorgeous.”

Y/N laughed, “You’re not wrong. Are you and Alexandra planning on going anywhere?”

“I think she mentioned wanting to go to France? I can’t remember off the top of my head, but we’re definitely thinking of going away.”

“That sounds lovely. Please do tell her I say hello.”

Max had decided he couldn’t take it any longer. He stormed over to Y/N and Charles and put on the fakest smile he could muster.

“Everything okay over here? You both seem to be having fun.”

“Hi Maxie, Charles was just telling me about his holiday plans with Alex!” Y/N said happily, turning round to look at her boyfriend.

“Yeah? Well, I think we’re needed in the garage, so we should probably get going. Wouldn’t want to keep Christian waiting.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later Charles, good luck with the race!”

“Bye Y/N, see you around,” Charles replied, waving goodbye.

Max began walking off in the direction of the Red Bull garage, with Y/N hot on his heels. When they finally arrived, Y/N turned to face Max.

“I know Christian didn’t need us Max, are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Max scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Maxie? You can tell me, I won’t laugh at you.”

“You talking to Charles made me a little jealous.”

“A little?” Y/N said, raising her eyebrow.

“Okay, a lot. I shouldn’t have pulled you away from him like that, I’m sorry, schatz.”

“It’s okay, lovie, just remember I'm yours and only yours.”

Max pulled Y/N into a grateful hug. He knew he could be irrational sometimes, but he was thankful that his girlfriend was always there to ground him and remind him that she loved him.

“I think,” Max started, “That I'd like to go public.”

“Are you sure, you know I don't mind either way, Maxie,” Y/N responded, looking up at her boyfriend.

“It might help if others know that you're mine. They should flirt with you less.”

Y/N slapped him gently on the chest, “They don't flirt with me Max, don't be ridiculous. It would be impossible for anyone to flirt with me when you're standing a metre away staring daggers at them.”

“I suppose, but I still want to tell everyone.”

“Okay then, whatever you want.”

Max pulled Y/N into another hug, “I'm sorry again for earlier.”

“It's okay, I know what you're like by now. You and your irrational thoughts.”

Max laughed, and the pair remained in each other's embrace for a while. Until Christian actually did need them both, and Max had to detangle himself from Y/N with a disappointed and discontented sigh.

[princessbubblegumsstuff]

Late nights – y.j. 

Requested – fluff 4. ,,Shut up and kiss me"

Genre(s): drabble, fluff, established relationship, idol au 

Pairing(s): jeongin x femreader

Warning(s): none

Words: 580

prompt lists (leave requests🩷) 

You have been dating Jeongin for almost a year now. It has been amazing, you two fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. He understood you on such a level that no one has ever even neared. 

The only problem was his job. You were understanding but not seeing him as much as you’d like was tough. Tough for both of you. It lead to several fights between him and his company, when he begged to take you on tour with them. Fights between him and his members when he came in late because he slept over at your place again. 

And the worst were the comebacks. When he had to work much harder, spend even longer hours at the company and the tour was getting closer and closer. Everyone was stressed and anxious and the fights were always more heated. 

You were always patient with him, trying your best to comfort him whenever he needed or act like his stress reliever. Jeongin loved you for that. He loved that you never added to his stress even when it was hard on you too. Loved that you encouraged his career and never made him feel bad about leaving you. 

So when he came home late one evening, slamming the door behind him loudly, you knew just what to do. He took off his shoes and groaned loudly as he leaned on the wall in the hallway. ,,Baby? Are you okay?” you call for him from the comfort of your warm bed, half asleep before he came in. 

Jeongin rushes to you, sitting on the edge of the bed with a tired expression on his face. ,,Hi, baby” he says and gives you a quick small smile. You sit up, enveloping him in your arms as he rests his head on your chest and lets you cradle him. ,,My poor Innie. You’re tired, aren’t you?” you whisper with a pout and he nods softly. ,,Let’s get you to bed, okay?” 

You help him undress, standing up and taking off his hoodie and t-shirt before you undo his pants and pull them off and his socks after too. you take off all of his accessories, massaging his fingers shortly after you free them. He gives you another tired smile before he flops down against the pillows, pulling you with him. You yelp and giggle as he holds you against his chest tightly. 

,,You should shower, baby. I can draw you a bath if you’d like. And I cooked some dinner before, I should go heat it up for you. You must be hungry. Does your back hurt again? I bought the cream that helped you and I can give you a massage. Or I can-” he cuts you off by slamming his lips against yours as he cups your face with his big hand. You pull away, looking up at him in confusion and he whines. 

,,Shut up and kiss me.” he sighs, a little sparkles in his eyes. ,,I love you, baby. I love how you want to take care of me, but for now just shut up and kiss me, please.” he whispers and you melt in his hold. 

,,Okay” you say before you kiss him again, your lips falling together as if that’s where they should’ve always been. As if they meant nothing when they were apart. Being in his arms felt as if that’s where you were always supposed to be…

[bamboobooshark]

YOUR WADE WILSON X READER STUFF IS SO PERFECT OMG IM EATING IT UP FRFR

WADE WILSON X READER

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ DOODLES : 580 WRDS

<RATING: PG-13, SOME LANGUAGE>

A/N : HI ANON TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMENT!!! I really am greatful that you and many others have enjoyed my Wade content so much. Also, hey, so could you possibly guess what happens in this? Could youuuu? It’s about Wade being curious about your self-drawn “tattoos”. I swear it’ll make more sense when you read it!!!

You’re lounging around in your bed like you have been all day. Wade lies next to you while playing some random game on his phone. It’s pretty quiet; the only noises in the room are you and Wade’s breathing and his game. His breaths are more quick and sharp, while yours are shallow and slow. He groans loudly and whines as per usual. “I died again, babe! Can you believe it?” he asks dramatically as he puts his phone down on his nightstand. You crack a small smile that only convinces him to continue. He makes his way to lay his head on your stomach, never ceasing his whining. “Why don’t you care? Why won’t you coddle me like I deserve?” he pouts, putting on his usual act when he wants attention. Wade’s efforts succeed when you let out a soft chuckle and move your arm down to rub his textured chest gently. He lets out an unnecessarily loud sigh before letting his eyes gently close. “Better?” you ask with a smile. "Oh, you bet your ass this is better,” he confirms while leaning into you more by the second.

When Wade opens up his eyes, he stares at your arm in confusion, then up at you. He looks back and forth between them a few times before questioning you. “What’s up with the ink all over your arms, pumpkin? You mapping out some tattoos you wanna get?” You shrug in response. “I just got bored earlier. They’re nothing really,” you tell him sheepishly, slightly embarrassed that he’s so focused on them. His fingers gently trace the set marks on your skin with an intrigued look in his eyes. You feel your cheeks warm more; he’s rarely this careful and quiet with you. You’re so used to him squeezing, pinching, and sometimes gently biting you. His fingers continue to trace the lines as if he were drawing them himself. His hand moves to hold your forearm to get a better look at the doodles. He lets out a curious ‘hmm’ while squinting at your arm. “Oh,” he exclaims while smiling. “These would be really fun to color in,” he says in a tone that begs you to let him. You nod in agreement to his suggestion. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” you sigh to him, and he smiles so hard you see his teeth showing.

Wade stays intrigued for the next few hours with coloring on your stick, trying his best to stay inside the lines because, according to him, if you’re going to allow him to color your “sacred silken skin,” then he should at least try to make it look nice. He bites his bottom lip into his mouth and hums for a moment. “Why did you make this one so detailed?” he grunts. “I don’t know. I told you I was just bored. I didn’t expect to end up with you trying to color in every little doodle,” you chuckled while watching him work inside the lines. “You better make these easier to color next time you draw all over yourself,” he mumbles while pouting. “Do you ever stop complaining?” you ask him as a joke. He gasps and squeezes your forearm a bit. “Will you ever stop giving me reasons to complain?” he sasses back. You widen your eyes as you realize he makes a good argument. “Whatever,” you groan in response. He chuckles sweetly as he finishes coloring in the doodle he’d been fussing about, moving on to the next one.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

yay i cant wait so excited i have been waiting for a while to read this fic. its loki or tony!

fem!plus size reader, wc: 580.

a/n: i must admit that the plot got away from me on this one, the fluffiness practically poured out of my fingertips. it's been a while since i've written for loki, but it is always a pleasure doing so. thank you for your request!!

cw! insecure fic <3

Being with Loki made you nervous, and not in the way that many people would think. 

He didn’t make you feel threatened nor was he mean, it was just that most of the time you’re around him you can’t help but sink into your head like quicksand. 

Why did he choose you when he had so many other options? Was he settling? What did other people think when they saw you guys together? Your stream of thought was almost laughable, because you knew that Loki didn’t care about what you looked like or anything trivial like that.

“What’s wrong, my love?” 

Your eyelashes fluttered, breaking your dissociative state. “Hm?” You hummed. 

“I asked you what’s wrong.” His tone was forever patient, his fingertips were featherlight against the skin of your arm. You were tucked into his side, the mood of your room domestic as a television show played pointlessly in the background. Loki was never really interested in human delicacies such as at home entertainment, he would much rather spend his free time with you.

“Oh… I’m just thinking.” Your voice was dismissive, almost like what you were saying didn’t really matter, which wasn’t true in the slightest because your boyfriend hung off of every word you said, committing it to memory.

He never forgot human holidays like christmas, birthdays or anniversaries, because those types of things mattered to you – and unfortunately he had to figure that out the hard way – but you bet your ass he never forgot it again.

“Please tell me what’s on your mind, dove.” Loki nuzzles his nose into your temple, placing a soft kiss on the side of your face. A shiver shoots itself up your spine, and the sensation makes you melt in his arms. Leave it up to him to basically pry whatever he wanted out of you.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid.” You shrug. “Nothing you say will ever be stupid.” You groan and curl into him deeper. “Fine. I just… I’m getting into that weird place in my head, you know? Like… it feels like no matter how many times you reassure me that I’m gorgeous and all this other super sweet stuff, none of it sticks. It’s like my brain can’t believe it.”

Loki sits there in silence for a moment, stewing on your words before speaking. He knew how sensitive this topic was for you, and though he was the God of Mischief, he would never make a mockery of your struggles.

“I understand you, darling. I know that through your years of being on earth, many humans haven’t been kind to you, and I out of everyone know what it feels like to be different, but –” He hooks a finger under your chin and coaxes you to look at him. 

Though your gaze is shy, you steele yourself despite the way that your cheeks heat under his touch.

“I can assure you that I have not chosen to be with you to make a mockery of you. I am with you because you are beautiful. Your soul sings to me, my dove. You are kind and your heart is unyielding. You are true to yourself and others. That is what makes you shine.”

You feel unshed tears burn behind your waterline and you scoff wetly, but you can’t fight the smile that inevitably breaks out on your face.

“Loki?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I love you.”

He laughs, and his chest rumbles with the joyous tune.

“I love you too.”

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[sissylittlefeather]

It's double-fic Wednesday!

Although, I'm not sure this counts as a fic 😂. More like a ficlet or drabble.

Anyway, here it is:

Play

Warnings: 18+ SMUTFEST MINORS DNI, cussing, blowjob, swallowing, pwp

Word count: ~580

Elvis bites his lip and stifles a moan. He looks down over his guitar to where his legs are spread wide and you have your warm, wet little mouth wrapped around his rock hard cock. You pull back and leave the tip of him glistening.

"I told ya to keep playin' baby."

"Not sure I c-can, doll." He breathes heavily at the sight of you on your knees, dick in your hand, pink lipstick smeared.

"Then I'll just stop." He shakes his head quickly.

"No, please don't. I-I-I'll play." He forms his fingers in a chord and starts strumming gently. You smile and lick the precum off his head, savoring the salty taste of him. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs, trying desperately to keep his hands moving on the guitar.

"Fuuuuck." You slide your lips all the way around his member, pushing it deep into your throat and sucking gently. He groans and muddles the chord progression as you bounce your mouth on him pornographically. When you open your throat and bury your nose in his pubic hair, he whimpers and you gag a little. His hips buck, but he keeps his hands moving. He's dying to fill your throat with hot white ropes of cum, but the guitar is slowing him down.

You pull off a little, lips puffy from use, and pump him with your hand. Then, you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock while you jack him off. His hand shakes and he drops his pick.

"Goddamnit doll, I gotta cum."

"Play. Or I'm done." You squeeze his dick in your hand gently and he whimpers again. He half-heartedly strums the strings and rolls his hips into your palm.

"Fuck, baby, please." He can feel his load waiting just at the base of him, making his balls throb.

"Play." He moans loudly and his hands tremble, but he makes a chord and strums again. "Good boy."

You sink your pretty lips onto him again, holding them tight as you move down his dick slowly. He's so close to cumming that he feels like he might cry. He bites his lip again to stifle a groan and strums the guitar as fast as he can, imagining his hand on his cock. But he doesn't have to use his imagination long as you slide your mouth up and down quickly, complimenting your movements with your hand. His dick is sloppy with your spit as you give him just the right amount of friction and pressure.

"God! Fuck!" He damn near screams as you pump him and suck him all at once. His hands stop and his hips shudder against the guitar as he finally climaxes, shooting your mouth full of salty, hot semen. You swallow as he cums, sucking his release out of him like his dick is a straw. His eyes roll back and his body shakes as the waves of ecstasy crash over him, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

When you finish, you lick a stripe up the bottom of his shaft and kiss his tip gently. He jerks and yelps from the overstimulation and then relaxes in the chair, arms and legs going slack.

"There. Now do you think you can record the song?" He looks up at you, his pupils blown and eyelids heavy with the afterglow of his orgasm.

"Yes. I can, doll." He slurs almost drunkenly.

"Good. You know I love to watch you play."

******

End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

[c-ndemned]

⠀⠀⠀𓏵⠀ THE 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴's 580 FOLLOWERS EVENT . !

✧ Well. It's time. Again.

i.　⸻　FIRST MESSAGE . . .

I won't make this long. But thanks. A lot. I wasn't expecting such a high follower count just 2 months after my last event. I really appreciate it, and I thank everyone of my followers/mutuals.

ii.　⸻　EVENT INFORMATION . . .

7 prompts, 14 days. Use tag #5k8rs580 if you want to participate, and ping me. I won’t see it if you don’t do both.

　『　This event starts on September 20, and ends on October 4. Submissions will only count within the event days. Late submissions will be accepted, and submissions that are posted after October 4 will no longer be accepted.　』

If you fit ANYTHING in my Do Not Interact, you are not allowed to participate in this event by default.

iii.　⸻　WINNERS' REWARDS . . .

╭─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─ · ✦ · ─╮

　『　FIRST . .　』 ⸻ 3 theme packs + 2 rentries

　『　SECOND . .　』 ⸻ 2 theme packs + 1 rentry

　『　THIRD . .　』 ⸻ 1 rentry and layout

╰─ · ✧ · ─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─╯

╭─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─ · ✦ · ─╮

¦ ⊹　 ── ⁽ PROMPT OO1 ⁾ A neon or a desaturated graphic.

¦ ⊹　 ── ⁽ PROMPT OO2 ⁾ A character you hate or love.

¦ ⊹　 ── ⁽ PROMPT OO3 ⁾ A character who can't cook.

¦ ⊹　 ── ⁽ PROMPT OO4 ⁾ Your favorite color and character.

¦ ⊹　 ── ⁽ PROMPT OO5 ⁾ A graphic/theme with greyscale.

¦ ⊹　 ── ⁽ PROMPT OO6 ⁾ A character that matches you.

¦ ⊹　 ── ⁽ PROMPT OO7 ⁾ Free day ! ! My favorite day ! !

╰─ · ✧ · ─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─┈─╯

iv.　⸻　EXPLANATIONS . . .

PROMPT OO1 :: For this prompt, you have to make anything with either extremely bright and colorful or desaturated colors.

PROMPT OO2 :: Self explanatory.

PROMPT OO3 :: Self explanatory, but you can edit a character who either always spoils their food or just cannot cook in general.

PROMPT OO4 :: Self explanatory..

PROMPT OO5 :: Greyscale is literally not using any colors except grey, white, and black. That’s it.

PROMPT OO6 :: It can be a character that looks like you, sounds like you, or acts and talks like you.

PROMPT OO7 :: The best prompt ever.

v.　⸻　FINAL ENCOUNTER AND TAGLIST . . .

To be eligible to receive rewards, you have to complete at least 3 to 4 days. If you do this, you will be put in a wheel of names, and the only thing to do after this is pray you win.

The taglist is under the cut. Drop an ask to be removed.

@fuwamoco-s @ethereabun @lavendergalactic @llocket @kiochisato

@axestrl @sanraeta @tirxie @starozzes @hiddencircus

@fwuhs @strawberrysnipes @luctus-flos @rrozeta

@necroangelz @battampria @rookmeo @i43furi @pink-sugar

@v-rtue @lawlietie @herrscherofmemories @peachisodaz @gothpoke

@ipcventurine @nomkiwi

[kzdigiarc]

desire ; preview

♰ pairings :: ot8 vampire!ateez x fem!witch!reader

♰ genre :: dark fantasy, smut, strangers to ?? to lovers, fluff, maybe slight angst?, soulmates/fated lovers

♰ content :: polyamory, references to religious themes, all of them are kinda down bad... some more than others, reader is enamored with them (i'll add more by chapter, they're not written yet)

♰ word count :: 580

♰ note :: all of the descriptions are general as this is the preview, please read the warnings for each chapter!! this is my first time not writing in third person :,) each chapter will probably focus of different sets of members. the chapters aren't planned, i'm writing this as i go so pls be patient. i'm not sure how many chapters there'll be. feedback is greatly appreciated and i should have the first chapter up very soon!! ♡

♰ gen. warnings :: blood, violence, predator/prey dynamics (non sexual & possibly sexual in later chapters), fear, anxiety, sight obsession, stalking, general dark themes, manipulation (non sexual)

☽ smut warnings by chapter, MDNI!!

as i look around confusedly, i forget that there was a small chance i was being followed by something. instead astonishment replaces the fear as i look around. but not for long. i start to hear the distinct sound of crunching leaves coming from my right. this time my entire body freezes for a fraction of a second and i do not turn to see whatever it is coming for me. instead i turn left and start to run. as i sprint through the tree line, i make it long enough that the clearing behind me starts to morph back into endless trees.

but turning back to look proves to be a mistake as i trip once again and fall, unable to catch myself as i collide with the ground. sharp pain shoots through my knee again and i know this time i would not just have a bruise. i wince and cry as i push into the dirt to roll onto my back. through my fear, i could only hear my boots making contact with the earth beneath me but now that i am still i can definitely hear the pursuit of something coming towards me. it doesn't sound like running but then again i may not be able to hear over the sound of my own pounding heart and heaving breaths. i attempt to scramble to my feet and push through the pain in my leg but i can only manage a weak limping jog. i feel tears pool in my eyes as i stop to lean my side against a tree. there's just no way i'll make it to my cabin like this. and there's no way i'd beat whatever it is that's following me. as the pain in my knee starts to throb, i sink lower until i'm sitting with my back against the tree.

through my wallowing i failed to realize that the sound from before had stopped. as i turn my head to look around, i spot a silhouette to my left. back from where i originally started running. it looks like.... a person? who in their right mind would be out this far? it seems like the seconds drag on as i stare wordlessly at the unmoving figure. i have no options to weigh so i wait. for impending doom most certainly. but there's nothing i can really do. trying to get up again really isn't practical and would just alert them to my location, if they don't see me already. i blink and suddenly the figure looks a lot closer than they were a second ago. no... my mind is playing tricks on me no one moves that fast. my heart rate kicks into high gear as the figure starts to become larger. they're definitely getting closer. my reflexes kick in and i scramble with no success to get onto my feet. i hear my breath stutter and a cry threatens to leave my lips as the figure finally really comes into view and then stops. though it's still very dark, they're close enough now that i can see the person is a man. he's human looking... enough. but that doesn't really quell my fear. he's still not close enough that he could hear me if i spoke in a normal tone but i shouldn't get my hopes up. i watch as his head tilts to the side for a second before he starts to walk, much slower now, towards me.

[inutargaryen]

Brother, stretch your hands

Plot: Jacaerys is haunted by the memories of his brother.

Words:580 Type: One Shot CW: Grief, angst, death

⋆｡°✩──────────────────────────⋆｡°✩

Sleep will not find him. It has not found him since he returned from the North on dragonback, Lucerys' voice and screams echoing him in the wind. It calls out to him and says save me brother, take my hands. He whipped Vermax to the sound, spinning in circles to find the source, to find his brother, to save him from the wet cold water, his final resting place. And now, as he lay in bed the walls scream to him, save me brother, take my hands.  Haunting him, reminding him that his brother is not there.

When sleep does take over, he is awoken by the memory of your smile. He screams into the night, Lucerys---brother, friend. He is the elder, it is his duty to go first, Lucerys to carry on without him. Why couldn’t you follow the natural order of things? Why did the Stranger forsake him, taking his brother’s life first. His brother was not built for war, nor a messenger. Jace remembers his conversation with his brother and holds at his own throat. Luce says, brother I am scared. And like the cunt that he has become he tells you, it is your duty to be man. Leaving you without comfort, without guidance, without the love or embrace of your brother. And now, Jace would never know what it was like to hold you again. 

The wind whispers to him, brother I am scared, I am scared. Jace holds his palms to his ears to block the noise. But the image of you being torn down by the grips of Vhagar’s jaws floods his senses. His babe brother, who cried at the sound of thunder. Who indulged in sweets and preferred the lap of his grandsire to the floor. He can see the shape of  mouth as it forms in an ‘o’, fear and sadness -- and your eyes that search for brother, to save you as he always did. 

But you saved him once, didn’t you? Brought a blade to the eye of the fruit of Alicent’s rotten womb. You showed strength and honor, and still your brother called you a coward in sparring. Still he scoffed as you say, brother lay with me for the thunder brings fear to my heart. Brother, brother, brother. All of your calls unanswered, he will live with a debt he cannot repay. He cannot replace all his scowls with a smile, all his smacks with an embrace. All Jace can do is close his eyes and remember his brother’s face, and hope there never comes a day that he cannot recall. Your button nose, your soft jaw, your smile when you were being mischievous. In  your memory he breaks, he screams and cries and curses the Gods both old and new. His sobs are weak, then powerful, then nothing. Tears don’t form but the screams continue. They ache inside of his soul. 

He is broken, he does not know life without you, how can he go on? And still the wind whispers,  save me brother, take my hands. And he screams brother who am I if I cannot protect you! What am I brother if I did not protect you? What am I, brother? Brother, stretch your hands. And he stretches his hands to your ghost, every time you grow further and further away from his grasp. He has failed his brother, he has betrayed his blood, he lives with your ghost in his heart and in these walls. 

[hwsing]

I’m very curious about any NSFW Headcanons/takes you have for Canada. 👀

sex, eh?

notes: 18+, reader is gender neutral and i don’t think reader’s genitals are mentioned. includes: canada (matthew williams). as always, reblogs are appreciated!

cw: this is more babbling than anything else; verse! matthew, outdoors sex, hair pulling, dick description. wc: about 580. not proof read. not much comes to mind for this lad but please feel free to request anything about him!

it’s so interesting to me that so many people want this man because he is so unfuckable to me its hilarious. i have to really put on my thinking cap here, but, i do think matthew is genuinely quite a giving partner. i also get the impression of him that he does like to dom (soft dom lets be clear). its a bit of a stereotype these days i think, but he seems like the type to enjoy that sort of dynamic since he can often feel overlooked in his day to day life.

despite that, i feel like he has iffy feelings on brats. he’s not the most kinky guy out there to begin with, so declining/training/ god forbid punishing is a ways outside his comfort zone. he’d much prefer to just make you feel good. now, if you reallllllly want to experiment in the more brat side of things, he’ll try a bit, but again, don’t expect anything particularly hardcore. at best, he’ll be manhandling you. when it comes to how he touches you, though, he’d rather give you sweet, open mouthed kisses down your chest to stomach!

really really really likes when his hair is tugged on. whether it it’s when you’re kissing or he’s giving you head, he just loves the little tugs to his roots. it’s a bit grounding, really; the blond is prone to overthinking and getting lost in his own thoughts. in a way, you’re yanking him back down, forcing him to focus more on the here and now.

public sex is a no go, but… outdoors sex?? this is by no means a habit of his, but if you two are camping……….. he prefers to camp by your own means rather than just. use an overcrowded campsite, so it’s not like anyone is really going to be around. with the thick forest as your walls of protection, why not get up to a bit of fun? he honestly really likes it, even if you’re only willing to do it inside the tent. although, if you’re willing to fuck against a tree, he’s more than happy to oblige!

he’s got pretty good stamina. he’s worked in the outdoors most of his life — he’s very fit. not particularly bulking, but muscular and somewhat lean. eats a good diet too. he lasts quite a while to begin with, but can go a few rounds as well! usually caps off at max two though, unless you specifically ask for more. he has a hard time saying no to you in most contexts,, he can’t help it, he thinks you’re so cute :(

still a verse at the end of the day, and if you try to take the reigns, he’s not going to put up much of a fight. again, he has a hard time denying you; quite literally putty in your hands if you decide to dom.

i dont imagine him very noisy in the bedroom. mostly soft and small moans and groans, some whimpering when he’s close. he’s not silent but not talkative either. he’s inclined to sing your praises and all that, but quietly, only for you to hear. that, and he can get a bit embarrassed by speaking so intimately, so it’s just easier for him to say it softly lolol.

this feels kinda bland so here’s a small treat: i’d guess he’s about 6.8”, trims quite close and very hygienic. slightly thick but not so much so that it’s pose a problem. very sensitive.