Fanfiction Writing - Blog Posts

12:45am — gojo satoru ;

“cute earrings, where’d you get them?” shoko asks.

“hm?” still clinging to sleep, you absentmindedly reach up to caress the metal dangling from your ear. the sharp indents of its gem pricks you back into a memory. “oh, these. i got them from a friend last week.”

“friend? or do you mean boyfriend?”

shoko’s words are throwaway, her wandering eyes and yawn a clear indication yet your face warms despite yourself. shaking your head furiously, you exclaim, “a friend! just a friend."

shoko hums, shifting her cigarette to the other end of her mouth. her gaze flickers somewhere behind you and you almost look too, when her words pull you back. “come to think of it, i don’t think you’ve ever told me what your type was.”

“my type?” your mind blanks. “i’ve probably never told you because i’ve never thought about it myself. i mean, being a jujutsu sorcerer and all, romance is kind of off the table.”

shoko keeps looking at you, pressing you without words. you grimace and sigh.

"i mean, i guess, maybe someone good looking? someone who’s not boring? and now that we're talking about it, someone who is fit and athletic too. they'd have to be smart, but not book-smart, like, street-smart." the more you think of it, the more words seem to spill from your mouth. "and someone who has a good sense of humour, someone who will make me laugh.”

“someone good looking, interesting, sporty, smart and funny? that’s too greedy.”

you giggle. “you’re right, there’s no way there’s anyone that perfect. i guess i’ll have to be single forever.”

“you'll always have me.” shoko says, grinning.

you push her shoulder but don’t deny it.

yaga walks into the classroom, cutting your conversation short. you spin around in your seat to face the front, eyes accidentally meeting gojo’s. he turns around too, and you reason that he was probably looking out the window behind you. you see getou snicker and whisper something in his ear, but gojo seemed to be having none of it, blatantly ignoring him.

seeing his face makes you think. didn’t gojo kind of match your type? someone attractive, interesting, athletic and maybe not academic smart, but he definitely carried an air of confidence when it came to fighting. and it wasn't a secret that he lightened the air wherever he went, intentionally or not.

with a start, you look back at shoko. “and someone calm. someone with manners.”

“well-mannered and calm. what insane preferences.” shoko chuckles. “are there any more?"

yaga slams his hand on the table a few times, reluctantly drawing your attention back to the front.

your previous conversation dies and twiddles away into the background, overtaken by droning lectures and predictable missions. by the end of the day, you can't even remember what you had told shoko early that morning.

when you enter the classroom the next day, you’re surprised to find gojo already there, seated at his table. his sunglasses hangs lower on his nose than usual and most curiously of all, a book is held in his hands. you’re not sure if he’s actually reading or not considering that pages were being turned far too quickly for someone reading “ordinary objects” by amie thomasson.

his eyes flicker to yours as you head in. “good morning.”

“morning. what’s with you?”

gojo clears his throat. “what ever do you mean?”

your frown transitions to a grimace. “why are you talking like that? did you break something of mine? was it my potted plant, gojo i told you to take good care of it!”

“i am taking care of it! it’s not dead yet!” he exclaims before pausing uncharacteristically. he sits back in his chair and turns back to his book. “i mean, it’s fine.”

“you sure?”

“i am.”

you narrow your eyes before looking away, dropping into your seat. “it better be. shoko got me that one.”

“speaking of shoko, is she not coming today?”

“i think she stayed overnight at the morgue.”

“is that so? perhaps i should write notes for her. i wouldn’t want her to miss out on class.”

you turn to him horrified. “so you did kill my plant!”

“i said it’s not dead!” gojo bursts. another pause. he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “i simply worry for her.”

you stare at him and watch as he fidgets under your gaze. “are you feeling sick? did you eat something wrong?”

“i’m not sick. what part of me looks sick?"

“well you’re usually not this…” you watch him as you wrack your brain, trying to find a word to describe this situation. “c…”

gojo leans forward. “yes?”

“crazy.”

he falls back in his chair, groaning, book forgotten and placed harshly down on the table.

you tilt your head. “where's getou, you guys didn’t come to class together? don’t tell me you fought.”

gojo peers up and frowns. “no, can i not show up to class early just because i feel like it?”

“it would be extremely out of character, yeah.” you rest your chin on your hand as you watch gojo mutter to himself, his jaw jutted out and his nose scrunched.

he was clearly unhappy, it didn’t take a scholar to know. it might take a genius to figure out why though.

you had time to kill, might as well take up the challenge. maybe he hadn’t had his morning dose of sugar yet, or maybe his favourite anime had delayed it’s upcoming episode. maybe he didn't save properly on the new game he was playing, or maybe he simply didn't sleep well last night. or maybe he had lied to you and he had fought with getou, leading to this strange attitude.

the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. the way he was acting now was like a mockery to getou's usual behaviour.

“are you trying to be like getou?” you try.

gojo whirs around to face you. “what?”

“well, you’re trying to be composed.” he keeps staring at you and you clear your throat. “like more well-mannered. more calm.”

gojo remains silent but you watch as his jaw drops. you think that he might say something but then his mouth closes, only to open again.

gojo speechless, what a sight. but as good of a sight as it was, you were beginning to feel concerned.

“are you sure you’re alright? what did you eat yesterday?”

he doesn’t register your question. “you think getou is well-mannered?”

“yeah?”

“and calm?”

you nod. “more than you, at least.”

“do you think he’s interesting too? sporty? smart? funny?” he pauses. “good-looking?”

the questions throw you off guard and you sit up. “what? where is this coming from?”

“oh my god, you do.”

“no? i mean, i think getou’s great and everything—”

“you think getou’s great?”

“don’t you?”

“you think getou’s hot.” he concludes. “and you think getou’s great.”

"what are you even saying?"

"i don't know. why don't you tell me?"

baffled, you flail for words. “are you jealous of him? that's strange, i didn’t think either of you would ever feel jealous of each other.”

gojo grits his teeth and looks away. with a pout, he says, “me neither.”

the door to the classroom is thrown open and getou steps through, rubbing the back of his neck. he yawns on his way to his chair and it wakes him up, looking between you and gojo as you both watch him enter.

“what did you guys do?” he asks with a sigh.

“nothing!”

“nothing.” gojo says and glares at him.

getou blinks.

“okay.” he says slowly, sliding out his chair and sitting. “what did i do then? why are you both looking at me like that?”

“gojo’s being weird.” you snitch. “are you guys fighting?”

“how should i know? i thought we were doing okay. gojo, if i did something, use your words and tell me.”

"i'll use my words to tell you to suck my dick instead."

"so i did do something. you're so predictable, gojo."

you snicker as gojo huffs and glances away, looking away out the window behind your head. his train of sight cuts right past you but you can’t help but feel slightly flustered as he looks on, almost like he was looking at you, so determined to ignore getou’s pestering.

subconsciously, you drown getou out too, your traitorous mind observing the blue in gojo’s eyes. you had always thought it was just one colour, but looking at it now, it seemed more like a kaleidoscope of blues, the many shades sparkling and dimming as he watched birds flutter outside the window, and you watched their shadows through his eyes.

something shifts, in the air or in the skies you don't know, and gojo meets your eye. startled, you hold the gaze and he holds it too, just long enough for your lungs to run out of air.

you look away hastily and inhale.

gojo glances to the front, oddly fidgety.

getou looks between the two of you. “what the fuck was that?”

“nothing.” gojo says.

getou clearly doesn't buy it but though he tries to get an answer out of you, you don't give him one either. cupping your cheeks, your thoughts mirror his question. what was that? it was embarrassing, that's what it was and your realisation is only heightened as a silence fills all four corners of the classroom.

gojo clears his throat. “for me, i like someone who i'm already comfortable with. someone i already know.”

at his words, you look over at him and find him already staring. he frowns as you don't give him any other reaction.

yaga saves you from addressing his statement, walking into the room as the bell for class rang. "oh? you're all early, even you gojo. where's shoko?"

“she’s staying at the morgue because of the recent mission.”

“i see.” yaga nods. “then let’s start.”

your mind fails to work as you turn over gojo’s words, thinking them through. what did they mean? what was he talking about? did this weird confession have something to do with why he was acting so strange?

slowly, you draw connections between your conversation with gojo and the talk you had with shoko yesterday morning. an epiphany shoots through you and you cover your mouth to hide a gasp.

did that mean…?

someone he knew? acting strange? getting mad when you said you liked getou?

you watch gojo’s side profile, hoping he’d turn around. if what you thought was right, he’d turn.

seconds tick past. yaga’s voice drawls on and yet gojo doesn't even spare you a glance.

no, maybe you were wrong after all.

just as you were about to face yaga again, gojo’s head shifts and his eye flicks over to yours. they widen when he finds you, and you’re sure you’re in a similar shocked state.

oh my god, you think, eyes darting between him and the other boy in the room.

gojo has a crush on getou.

filler imagine based off of that One scene from the manga: "megane tokidoki yankee kun"

love lost - aemond targaryen.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader.

warnings: mentions of rape.

summary: you are forced to see Aemond after six long years much to your dismay after finding out you are still to be wed to him.

word count: 2200+

a/n: reader is adopted by Rhaenyra and Daemon. I personally couldn't force myself to write such direct incest lol.

(X)

An incessant ringing sounds in your ears, a mild throbbing in the back of your head signalling the start of an oncoming headache as your mother Rhaenyra reaffirms what you had most hoped no longer stood.

“No, no, no,” you mumble in your seat, shaking your head in denial and pushing your palms into your eyes.

“I thought-,” you cut yourself off, leaning back in your chair and pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I thought when we left King’s Landing that my betrothal to Aemond Targaryen would be null and void.”

“Now, why would you think that?” Daemon raises a barely visible brow at you.

“Because it’s been six years!” you argue, fixing your sharp gaze on your parents.

“Six long years since we’ve left King’s Landing and not once was there mention of my betrothal to him. One would naturally assume that it ceases to exist especially when another was put forward. Albeit he is not longer but, that's not the point. Now, suddenly because we have to go back, I’m to find out that I am still to be wed to that halfwit.”

“That halfwit is to be your husband,” Daemon mocks.

Your cheeks burn in anger, but you say nothing to him, knowing it would get you nowhere. Instead, you intentionally turn your now softened gaze to Rhaenyra in the hopes of garnering some sympathy from her for she knew what it was once like to be in your position.

“Mother, please,” you plead but, your gaze hardens just as quickly as it softened when she’s blocked from your view by Daemon.

“That’s enough. You like your siblings will do your duty to this family. So be it if that duty means marrying Aemond Targaryen then that is your duty and that is the end of this conversation.”

-

You sigh heavily into your drink, eyes downcast and watching the amber liquid slosh against the glass of your cup as you swivel it around in your grip. The false niceties for the sake of your adoptive…. Grandfather? Uncle? You weren’t sure what to call him since your mother married Daemon but, the false niceties had taken its toll and you simply couldn’t feign friendliness any longer as you sat beside your betrothed who’d been ignoring you all night.

“Is there a problem?” Aemond bites out, head turning to finally acknowledge you.

“Yes,” you sigh dramatically into your drink for what you think to be the hundredth time that night.

Swivelling the cup one last time, you drain it of its remaining liquid then place it on the table, laying your hand flat at its base and looking back at Aemond. You narrow your eyes at him, briefly mimicking the look of annoyance on his face which is met with a scowl. While he scowls at you, you take the time to study his features, observing all the way in which his face had changed since the last time you saw him in Driftmark.

Your relationship with Aemond hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when the prospect of being married to one another was all the two of you had wanted. Of course, things had changed when you had steadfastly stood by your brothers (and at the time, cousins) the night Aemond lost his eye. Perhaps you were to blame for the downfall of the relationship between you two - many did say you should've stood by him. But then you remembered his promise.

“You are the problem,” you groan.

You probably wouldn’t be so bold if you hadn’t been steadily becoming more wine drunk with little to no filter standing between your thoughts and your mouth and if Aemond wasn’t irritated with you before, you were certain he was now. What was otherwise a handsome face marred by the ugly twist of his mouth. If looks could kill…

He says nothing right away, his face relaxing back into the cool expression he seemed to always wear nowadays, and you steel yourself for whatever insult he’s sure to throw at you but, it doesn’t come.

Your… conversation interrupted by a hand being placed over your own on the table, and you sober immediately, skin crawling at the older Targaryen boy. You had made it a point to avoid him the entire night, well aware of his indecencies. But, as Helaena danced with your younger brother, Aegon had you cornered between himself and Aemond and if Aemond’s behaviour towards you tonight was anything to go by, he would be of no help.

“Y/N,” Aegon practically coos at you, and it takes everything for you to stop yourself from vomiting all the wine you had drunk, on him.

“Aegon,” you speak with a clipped tone.

Instead of being deterred by your lack of response, Aegon takes it upon himself to drag his chair closer to you. You don’t realise you were moving too until your chair knocks into Aemond’s, your own knee knocking into his thigh. If Aegon could sense your revulsion, he didn’t show it. Although you were sure the depraved boy was likely finding joy in it.

“It’s been so long. Had I known you would blossom into such a beautiful young thing who enjoyed indulging in the cup as much as I did, I might have asked that your hand be given to me instead of young Aemond’s here,” he caresses your hand between both of his.

“Although I hear my brother is in the business of making people who are not him in your life disappear,” he chuckles, eyes flickering to Aemond.

“And if you were not my brother, I would make you disappear too,” Aemond grins. “Now remove your hands from Y/N or I will remove them from you.”

You groan in disgust, standing abruptly in your chair. Perhaps you should've been grateful for Aemond's defence but, it only served as a reminder of what he had done in the past. The sound of the chair’s scrapes are lost amongst the noise, everyone else too engrossed in their own doings to know what was happening at your end of the table and, you use it to your advantage to sit yourself amongst your younger siblings.

“Seven hells,” you exhale loudly, slumping in your new seat.

“Not having fun, sister?” Luke asks, filling your cup for you.

You nod in gratitude, taking the cup in hand, “oh brother, you have no idea.”

Leaning closer to him, you speak low enough for only your siblings to hear, “let’s just say I would give an eye to be anywhere else but here.”

Laughter erupts amongst you all, catching the eye of Aegon and briefly Aemond but, the night carries on. Everything fine for a few more moments until all hell broke loose with Aemond’s final tribute.

-

The quiet of the Red Keep during the night is a stark contrast to its bustling nature throughout the day. The only sounds being the echo of your shoes on the stone pavements as you navigate the secret passageways back to your room. The long walk much needed to clear your thoughts after the turn supper had taken and then the argument with your mother and Daemon that followed.

While you thought the obvious outcome would be to call off your betrothal to Aemond after the insults flung at your brothers, your mother thought otherwise with the seeming resurgence of her friendship with Alicent.

The heavy door creaks on its hinges and closes with a dull thud as you try but fail to be quiet, hoping that no one in your family would hear it from their rooms. But that becomes the furthest thing from your mind when Aemond Targaryen is sitting in front of the fireplace of your room.

“I do believe you have a fireplace in your own rooms,” you quip.

Crossing the room to the large bed, you finger at the night gown laid out by your handmaidens – all of them now gone to bed due to the late hour.

“It’s dangerous enough as it is to be wondering the grounds of the Red Keep during the hour of the owl and yet you also insist on doing it alone,” he scolds from where he sits, gaze fixed intensely on the flames and ignoring your earlier comment.

You breathe a short laugh.

“and yet,” you mock. “I wasn’t alone, was I?”

Turning to face him, he’s already looking back at you as your fingers close around the end of the bedframe.

“Mmm… someone has to look out for you.”

“Is that what you call it?” you narrow your eyes at him, fingers now tapping irritably against the wooden frame.

“If you have something to say… say it,” Aemond taunts.

You open your mouth ready to fire back but, hesitate. In your sober state, you were able to actually hold a conversation but, you didn’t hold the same bravado you did earlier in the evening and quite frankly you just wanted to sleep. You roll your eyes, turning your back on him and sweeping your hair over your shoulder.

“Help me undress, my handmaidens have gone to bed,” you call him over.

You wait patiently, tension thickening as he gets closer, each step heavy and purposeful. When his fingers brush at the hair at the base of your neck, goosebumps spread across your skin.

“You anger with me is misplaced,” Aemond mutters gruffly.

He begins to undo the back of your dress, trying to focus on being careful in undoing the intricate design that holds it together and not your exposed skin.

“I hardly think so after what you did at supper earlier tonight.”

“Tonight?” he tuts, his hand pausing to graze the partially exposed skin of your back. “Tonight, is not why you’re angry with me.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his touch. You want to protest but, have no energy to. It would be a losing fight anyway because he’s right, it wasn’t why you were angry with him but, saying it out loud made you feel silly. When you don’t respond, Aemond continues.

“Between the two of us, if anyone should be holding onto anger and grudges it should be me. You did lie about what happened that night Luke took my eye,” he reminds you.

“I made amends for that,” you defend.

“I know. Sapphires. Which I’ve grown quite fond of.”

Sapphires indeed, ones you had sent him in various shapes and sizes in place of his eye. An apology without apologising.

Turning to face him, you place a hand on his chest, the other reaching for his eyepatch. You don’t worry about your dress or dignity, knowing that he hadn’t undone enough of it for it to fall.

You wait for him to pull away from your touch, but he doesn’t. You allow your hand to gently touch the leather eye patch, waiting a beat before finally removing it.  The scar might’ve been hideous on any other face and, it is hideous but, it doesn’t do anything to take away from his appearance. He certainly doesn’t look the beast that so, many claim.

“I loved him truly,” you drop your hands to your side. “the last one that you took from me. He made me happy.”

“Your happiness with him was fleeting,” he utters, eyes trained on you as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand trails down to your cheek, caressing softly before it continues its journey along your jawline and finally resting at the base of your neck.

“So, you can stop feigning anger with me.”

“How did we get here?” you mumble, searching his eyes.

The tension suffocates the two of you. Aemond’s breath fanning across your lips and, you don’t even know when he got so close. His lips ghost yours and you involuntarily lean into him but, you're held back by his hand that has snaked its way from the front of your neck to the back.

“We loved one another once. We will learn to love one another again,” and with that Aemond closes the distance between your lips.

The kiss is desperate but tender and, he holds you to him like he will never let you go.

For all that he has done, promises that he made to ensure that you would not be happy after undeniably going against him, he still carries a torch for you – his love is not lost and when you kiss him back with as much urgency and fervour, he knows your love for him is not either.

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

© bookofbonbon 2022. All rights reserved.

𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐑Ī𝐙𝐄𝐒, 𝐃.𝐓

pairing: daemon targaryen x martell!reader

summary: a week after the tournament day, prince daemon and y/n became something more.

words: 2.8k

author's note: I personally hate the smut part, and I really think it sucks. I am truly sorry, guys :( also, I know Mysaria is from Essos and she understands high valyrian, but let's just ✨️ pretend ✨️ she doesn't. and I know dragonstone is literally inside a volcano BUT for the story's sake let's forget that. again, I am so sorry about the smut part. I love you all and thank you so much for the support y'all have given me on the first part. ❤️‍🩹

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. i hope you like it!

18+ warning

warnings: dub-con, rough sex, degradation kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), daemon being hot while speaking high valyrian, daemon being hot while dominant, daemon being daemon.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

"You never said we were coming to Dragonstone." Y/N muttered while getting out of Faora's back.

Daemon chuckled. It was kinda obvious that his plans wouldn't be shared so easily when he invited his wife to a dragon ride. The last few days they had spend together, the prince found himself very comfortable in her presence and discovered that he liked being with her. He thought that bringing her to meet their future home and the perfect place to consumate their marriage was a brilliant idea.

They watched the dragons be lead to the dragonpit, and the prince took the lady's hand in his, leading the way towards the castle.

Adjusting the cloak on her body, Y/N shaked a little bit. The castle was settled on the top of a mountain, and it was freezing cold. The south is even hotter than the Crownlands in west coast, and growing up in Sunspear, the capital and one of the warmest cities of Dorne, Y/N thought she could never get used to this kind of weather.

"Are you cold?" Daemon questioned, taking her closer to him and wrapping an arm behind her neck.

"A little, yes. I didn't thought it would be so cold, but it's a beautiful place. It's cloudy, I love it." She smiled. It was different from everywhere she had ever been, but she could definitely see why he loved that place.

The last three days, Daemon couldn't shut up about Dragonstone and how it was his favorite place on earth. He had been on Meereen, Volantis and Essos, but being trapped in a castle on the mountain was his favorite place on earth. He told her what his childhood was like, and showed himself to be real interested to know the same about hers. Y/N thought that perhaps it was too early to share memories with him.

Inside the castle, Daemon took Y/N gloved hands in his and gave her a little tour. It was an enormous place, and even though it wasn't the kind of thought she wanted right now, her head took showed her how perfect that place was to raise a family with Daemon. She wanted that, and it was her duty as a wife, but the non-stop gossip about the prince's mistress around King's Landing was making her feel a little bit insecure about their future. She knows that they need to discuss their relationship, but he seemed to be enjoying spending time with her the last few days, so she never talks about what's bothering her.

"Daemon!" Y/N turned around to the voice behind them.

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath. "Mysaria. I thought I told you to leave before my arrival."

The woman laughed humorless. She gazed at the princess from head to toe, narrowing her eyes as doing so. Y/N felt like cutting the woman's head with a sword for looking at her like that.

"Ao dōrī ivestretan issa aōha līve istan kesīr." Y/N turned to her husband, speaking in a language that his mistress couldn't understand. (You never told me your whore would be here.)

"She wasn't supposed to be here. I'll take care of it." He assured her, leaving the princess' side and grabbing Mysaria's arm.

Y/N went for the room at the end of the corridor. It was the biggest room inside the castle, and also it was Daemon's chambers. At first she looked at it with romantic eyes, watching scenarios that they could be living there through the years. But that easily crumbled once she remembered that his mistress had also been here. She knew that this shouldn't matter, he was a man and had his necessities. But she thought about how many women Daemon had brought there, and then she wondered why would he keep that one. One of the rumors around the capital is that he was planning to marry and have children with her, but King Viserys forbid his brother to do so. That was probably true.

She waited for Daemon to come, but then she heard the high pitched sound of Caraxes' roar. Y/N went to the window and saw the Rogue Pince on top of his dragon, with the woman behind him. She couldn't believe that he would leave her. It took a few hours before he was back again.

When he came into the room, he noticed her angry features. Daemon thought she looked really cute, but it was no time for compliments that would make her even more angry.

He broke the ice, knowing she wouldn't say a word before he explained himself. "I already told you, she wasn't supposed to be here."

"Where were you?" The princess questioned.

"You really don't want to know." He said with a little bit of annoyance.

"But I do, Daemon! I thought you left me here!" Y/N replied angrily.

"I would never do that. I took her back to Pentos." He tried to take the princess' hand but she smacked him off.

"What? Essos? You crossed the narrow sea?" Y/N frowned in confusion. She couldn't understand why would him do that.

"She's not here anymore, so it doesn't really matters." Daemon tried to get close but she stepped backwards.

"But it does! Why are we even here!?" Y/N snapped.

"I am the prince of Dragonstone! This is my home, our home! The last thing I want now is to talk about her while we're on the home of our future children!"

Y/N's mouth opened in shock. Now it was time to discuss what kind of relationship they had?

"Children? Daemon, what are you talking about? I don't even know what we have! Until last week I thought you hated the idea of being with me." Y/N chuckled in confusion, making the prince roll his eyes.

"Gods, don't be so fucking dramatic. I happen to like you, that's all. Would you rather I was here with Mysaria, leaving you hanging in the capital all alone?" He questioned.

Y/N clenched her jaw and fist, resisting the urge to punch her husband's royal face.

"What did you just say?" She took a step further, her face was an inch away from his.

"What I meant to say," He started, getting even more close to her where their lips almost touched, "is that I'm trying to start a life with you. We're married, after all."

"But that's not what I heard!" She said harshly.

Daemon's hand grabbed her by the throat, and his body crashed with hers when her back hit the wall behind her. Y/N gasped softly, a little bit astonish by his actions.

"Stop being so tough!" His said between gritted teeth, "Shut your fucking mouth and listen to your husband. That's what good wives do."

She chocked on her own words and pride, nodding to whatever he said, without questioning it. After getting to know the true Daemon Targaryen, she lost all the magic of a perfect prince that her mind created through the years. But now, Y/N couldn't understand why she have never felt so attracted to him. He was being rude and possessive, and somehow that turned her on.

"Why do you always have to act like this when you're with me? It's like you have fun arguing." Daemon whispered, prepping kisses on her neck.

"You're being unfair, we haven't argued in a week." The princess closed her eyes, losing herself to the touch of his soft lips.

"And yet you refuse to open yourself to me." His hands left her throat and went to her jaw, grabbing it tightly. "But not anymore. I shall make you give yourself entirely to me."

"Open your mouth for me, princess," He demanded.

Y/N did as he asked, and the prince bit his lip as he entered with his thumb into her aperture. The girl closed her lips around his finger, and sucked her cheeks, creating a vacuum. She licked his finger and softly bit the tip of it, which made him smirk. Daemon pulled his thumb out and wrapped her throat with his hand.

Daemon pulled her up, intertwining her legs around his waist. He walked through the room and tossed her body on the bed. Y/N watched him taking his clothes off and then getting on top of her.

"You have no idea about the things that I want to do with you, Y/N. The things that I want to make you feel."

Daemon started to go down her body touching her clothed pussy. The princess gasped at his touch and bit her bottom lip. Her nails were deep in the bed sheets and her heart was beating like a drum. His hands assaulted her trousers, until it met her panties' fabric.

"You are so wet, all for me. My good little princess." Daemon praised her in a low voice, while rubbing his thumb against her clothed clit, sending shivers down her body, "Tell me what you want, Y/N, I want to hear you."

The girl never felt something like that before. Her body was screaming to be touched. She craved his hands on her body, craved his mouth on her. She needed him to be fully inside her like she needed air to breathe.

"Please, Daemon" The princess moaned as he made circles with index finger on her clothed clit. "Please, make me yours" She begged.

"See, I don't think you understand, my little sand dragon." He whispered, leaving a soft kiss on her inner thigh after taking her trousers off, "You're already mine. Mine to do whatever the fuck I want."

He took off underwear, leaving her vulva uncovered. Daemon grabbed her waist and brought his face against her intimacy, making her shiver as she felt his cool breath touch the sensitive skin of her core. His thumb found her swollen clit, where he made slow circular moves and she moaned to his touch. The princess' hands brushed against his silver hair as his mouth touched her wet center. He made slow moves with his tongue, sliding it from her entrance to the clit. Y/N bit her lip as she moaned, feeling the ecstasy building inside her like she was about to come at any moment.

"Fuck, Daemon–" She tried to warn him but before she could finish her sentence, she came into in his mouth.

Daemon licked his lips before climbing up her body and fit himself between her legs. He helped her to take of her dress as her breathing was normalizing after the adrenaline. He lowered his boxers, freeing his hard cock from his underwear. He brushed his tip at her slit and fit into it. The girl could feel his length entering her slowly, while his hands found her breasts and squeezed them tightly. She whined to the contact as he began to move his hips back and forth in a slow rhythm. His mouth found her neck where he left kisses and hickeys, and extended it's actions to her chest right after. The Rogue Prince took her hard nipple into his mouth and started sucking on it. She rolled my eyes in pleasure as her nails raked his back. His thrusts started to get faster, making his hips snapped into hers while he moaned against her skin.

"You're so fucking tight, princess," He whispered next to my ear.

Y/N turned their bodies on the bed, placing herself on top of him. She took control and looked at him underneath her, so impotent. The princess grabbed his hands and took them to the top of his head. Daemon started to groan while she was riding him, which sounded like music do her ears. It was enough for her to know she was giving him so much pleasure, moving her hips in different ways and motions, going up and down on his hard cock. For someone who was having sex for the first time, she was experienced. Her father made her take lessons with his whores back in Dorne, preparing her for this moment, where she woud pleasure her prince husband.

"You feel so good inside of me," She moaned into his ear to be provocative.

"You're having a great time, huh? Let me show you who's in command here," He freed himself from her hands and grabbed her hips tightly.

Daemon had his hands on her waist with his thumbs pressing into my sides. He buried his entire cock inside of her cunt, making her take every inch of him. She whined loudly, grabbing his shoulder trying not to lose her balance.

He moved his hips up and down, fucking her hard and going deeper in every thrust. Y/N moaned against his skin, when her mouth met his neck, leaving marks on his collarbone. She felt his thick length hitting her g-spot, making her bit my lip hard not to scream.

"Do you like that Y/N? I know you do. You take my cock so well, it's like you were made for me." He growled while pounding into her.

"I'm gonna cum, Daemon!" She cried out.

"Look at you, my slutty little princess taking me like a whore. I'm gonna cum inside you and make you swollen with my child. I bet you would love that, wouldn't you? You're gonna look so pretty when I make you fucking pregnant." He increased the pressure of his hands on her hips, grabbing it more tightly, where would probably bruise later.

His praisings and degradations were driving her insane. She could feel her second orgasm coming and she knew he was close too. Daemon started to slam himself inside her, making her come on his cock. He growled into her ear and kissed her mouth as he came inside her. Y/N felt him twitching through her walls, filling her with his seed.

She fell by his side and hugged his naked body, placing her head on his toned chest. Daemon gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, and closed his eyes in relaxation. They quickly fell asleep due tiredness.

Her fingers slightly danced through his silver long hair, forming braids with it. She hummed a song, while Daemon played with their 2 year old daughter, Rhaenya. The young girl had curly silver hair, due the princess' Velaryon blood, and lilac eyes like hers and Daemon's. Since she was born, the prince decided to take a break on wars and anything that could risk his life. No one would thought that the Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen, loved being a parent.

Princess Y/N was 5 months pregnant of her second — and last — child. They came to the conclusion that being in a small family was for the best. In a political statement, they should have as many children as they can, so they can spread the Targaryen line. But, they lived comfortably being in a small family environment, away from the capital, the king and it's dramas, so no one could tell them how to live their lives.

"Emagon ao thought bē brōzāt?" Daemon asked softly, chuckling while Rhaenya played with his nose. (Have you thought about names?)

"Nyke emagon. Skoros bē ao?" Y/N smiled, finishing the fifth braid on his hair. (I have. What about you?)

"Nyke emagon issare otāpagon bē Daemor, isse case ziry iksos nykeā valonqar." Daemon smirked, bitting his daughter chubby cheek and making her yelp. (I have been thinking about Daemor, in case it's a boy.)

"Daemor? Skoros does bona poghash bē ao hae nykeā kepa?" Y/N laughed loudly, which made her child laugh too. Daemon frowned. (Daemor?What does that says about you as father?)

"Kostilus nyke tolī Targārien than nyke rattan naejot sagon. Nyke also thought bē Rhaegor." The prince rolled is eyes to his own sentence. (Perhaps I am more a Targaryen then I liked to be. I also thought about Rhaegor.)

"Nyke raqagon Rhaegor. Lo ziry iksos nykeā hāedar, nyke istan otāpagon bē Daerys." Y/N confessed. (I like Rhaegor. If it's a girl, I was thinking about Daerys.)

 "Sir, skoros does bona poghash bē ao hae nykeā muñnykeā?" Daemon said, getting a wicked giggle from his wife. (Now, what does that says about you as a mother?)

"Hae nykeā muñnykeā? Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon. Hae nykeā ābrazȳrys, ziry poghash 'nyke jorrāelagon issa valzȳrys'" She kissed the top of his head, making the prince smile. (As a mother? I don't know. As a wife, it says "I love my husband'.)

"Avy jorrāelan, issa byka rizmon zaldrīzes." He turned around, facing her. (I love you, my little sand dragon.)

Daemon pecked her lips, making her smile even larger. The little girl wiggled her arms, asking for her mother embrace. The princess took the young in her arms and kissed her silver curls.

"Avy jorrāelan tolī." (I love you too.)

This series is so good I— 😌

Oberyn Martell Red Viper of Dorne Masterlist

bow to your prince peasants

The Bird and the Snake –ongoing

Part 1: The Fledgling 

Part 2: Serpentine 

Part 3: Homesick  

Part 4: Sugar Coated Pepper Seeds  

Part 5: Keeping 

Part 6: Comings and Goings NEW

Part 7 Family Ties(tentative)

Part 7.5: Read “Choose No Sides, Offer No Explanations”

One Shot within same Universe as the story:

Choose No Sides, Offer No Explanations (Oberyn x reader) (Oberyn x OC) MATURE 

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One Shots (not in the storyverse)

Born to the Sword: Rated R (Oberyn x GN Reader)

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Headcanon about Oberyn

Never disappoints.

Top tier DC fanfics right here people 🤌✨

The Cop and the Bat - Bruce Wayne/Battinson x Fem!Reader (includes smut)

Synopsis : Two years ago, you were “saved” by the vigilante they know called “The Batman” from joining up with a gang. At the time, you saw this as the only escape from the tough life you lived down in Gotham’s slums. But he beat up those who wanted to recruit you and a bunch of other lost kids, and changed your perception of life. You started to train to become a cop, wanting to help better the city. Wanting to tackle the corruption right at its core. Ah, to be a youngster full of dreams

TW : mention of cheating, and there’s a NSFW scene. 18+, minors do not interact. Some The Batman spoilers. Strong language. Violence. 

For real, if you are underaged, or uncomfortable with this kind of content this story isn’t for you . I have many SFW work available for you to read over on my masterlists blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives. Please. This is smut with feelings and an actual story, but still it iz wat it iz. Be aware of that (I will also mark it once it’s coming in the story, to be fully safe). 

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“Crimes are always the highest in poor neighborhoods”, said an article you once read, when you were in high school, in your “current event” class. It made you chuckle, as you looked around you and saw a decrepit “school” full of teachers afraid of their students, and students terrified of their teachers. 

You know what was even scarier ? The fact that so many of you just decided that : “that’s just how it is”, and settled to have a life of misery, fighting every day for survival down in Gotham’s slums.

No change had happened in such a long time, every single person living under the line of poverty just decided to live with the fact it was never going to change. And that’s an awful thing to think about. At the same time, if you expect nothing from life, you can only be pleasantly surprised, right ? 

Yeah. No. Because even when you expect nothing, a place like Gotham City always had “surprises” that you definitely could do without. Like the local mafia taking hold of the neighborhood’s electricity, and you had to pay them to keep the heater on. And in Gotham in winters ? Saying it was cold was an euphemism. It was either finding the money, or freezing to death in your room. 

Finding money. 

Was this life ? A perpetual fight to keep your head above the water, to be able to eat at least a meal a day ? What a nightmare. 

Naturally, as you grew up, you slowly drifted more and more towards a world you never thought would be yours. A world in which there was “easy money”. 

Crime. 

Keep reading

2 genres of fanfiction:

1) put that guy into situations

2) take that guy OUT of situations for the love of GOD let them REST 

Oh no.. It’s me

(But seriously it’s me. My Newsies Wizards AU is nearly identical to my Pokemon Wizards AU and I have no idea how to make them different or which to prioritize ahahaha. Writing is hard)

me as a writer: Oh no I can’t write that, somebody else already has

me as a reader: hell yes give me all the fics about this one scenario. The more the merrier

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

I went to catholic school for 8 years. What else should i do with that other than using my knowledge for religious references and metaphors in queer fanfiction?