#gosh his poetry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampcubus · 1 year

Note

Hi, I really like your writing (especially your Rengoku headcanons.) Also, your page looks so aesthetically pleasing, I think it's really cool.

Can I request some headcanons for Tokoyami with a s/o who's love language is biting? (It can be fluff or smut or both, it's your choice)

If you don't want to write this, that's okay too, have a nice day!

sure can! and thank you sm for the compliments, got me blushin’ n shit 😳 i also decided to tack on more characters for this prompt!

𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : fumikage, izuku, katsuki, and eijirou.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : vaguely nsfw, projecting my biting kink onto all these men tbh.

𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈

— Fumikage’s probably the most startled by your love bites for sure. He’s still getting used to your kisses, so you can bet he’s jumping a mile into the air when he feels you sneak a nip to his shoulder. He’s so flustered, beak tipped down to his chest in embarrassment. What was that for? Were you teasing him? An intrusive thought perhaps?

— When you explain it to him, it endears him to you even more. You were biting him because it’s how you expressed your love? He wished he’d known sooner.

— He definitely writes romanticized poetry about how your teeth feel on his skin.

— Knaw on him all you like, he’s yours to chew on as you see fit — so long as you promise to kiss the bites you leave afterward.

— Poor guy gets teased endlessly for the bite marks he’s got all over, somehow them being inherently non-sexual makes it worse. He feels dirty when his friends make unsavory jokes about them, but it’s not like he’s going to tell you that you can’t sink your teeth in just because he’s embarrassed.

— He notices that you tend to do it even more when you’re excited about something, nicks of your teeth interspersed with your enthusiastic smooching.

— He should have expected your habit to emerge in the bedroom, yet it still incites a shaky gasp when you sink your teeth into his neck and shoulder as you take him inside you.

— Don’t tell anyone but he likes the pain, particularly when it mixes with the pleasure of you claiming him.

— He traces your bite marks when he’s thinking of you <3

𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀

— There’s nothing cuter than the pitched gasp he makes when your teeth nip at his ear for the first time. At first, he thinks you just wanted to mess with him so he pouts, rubbing at the red mark you left behind.

“That hurt you know…” he huffs, bottom lip sticking out.

— That is until he realizes that you’re doing it mindlessly like you weren’t giving it a second thought.

— When your lips press a kiss to his shoulder in passing, he’s conditioned to tense up in case you decide to take a bite out of him on a whim.

— It’s not an unpleasant feeling, but he has a habit of being vocal about his approval. The last thing he wants is for you to sneak a bite when he isn’t expecting it and he moans out loud when other people are around.

— in short, he likes it. a lot.

— He’s your personal chew toy as far as he’s concerned. Still, his curiosity compels him to ask you about it.

“So I’ve noticed that you uh… bite me a lot? Is that like… a conscious thing or…?” he inquires one day, and the way your face practically bursts into flames should be enough of an answer on its own.

“Gosh I’m so sorry if that’s weird—“ you blubber, fanning your burning cheeks as he watches in fascination. You’re so cute when you get flustered like that, he muses.

“No, I like it!” He states a little too loudly and then rushes to amend his enthusiasm, stumbling over his words as his own furious blush flares up. He was outing himself. “N-not in a weird way or anything. I just think it’s cute!”

— And when he makes the connection of you biting him = loving him, he’s over the moon about it.

— Has a thing for being marked as yours, so your habit goes hand in hand with that desire.

— Sink your teeth in until his skin dots with blood, he doesn’t care, cus no amount of pain could take away from the dizzying pleasure he feels at that moment.

— Encourages you to bite him harder <333 he's no weakling, you know you can be rougher with him, don't you?

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔

— As expected, he is less than understanding about it the first time you leap into his back and chomp his shoulder.

“HUH?! THE HELL DID YOU BITE ME FOR?!”

— Calls you a freak 😔 honestly he can be so mean </3

— However, this can be amended by confessing that your compulsion to bite him was a sign of love. Watch his cheeks get all red, hand covering his face as he leans away from your scrutinizing gaze — because you’ve flustered him.

“Yeah, okay I get it! you do it cus you like me or whatever but it hurts you know. Can’t just do it out of nowhere…” he grumbles, avoiding your sparkling eyes. Because that sounded like a stamp of approval to you.

— He’ll fuss most times you do it, but only before guiding your teeth to the place he wants them. Cus if you’re gonna bite him you might as well go for the throat where he likes it.

— Can’t help that his cock throbs whenever your breath grazes his jugular, anticipating the sting of your teeth pulling the tender skin between them.

— Going in for an affectionate chomp in other places just gets you an annoyed hand shoving your face away — especially if you’re around other people. It’s almost pitiful how your face drops when he does as if he’s the bad guy. What a joke!

“C’mon, don’t give me that look. You can chew on me later.”

— He’s all too aware that you do it to distract him, so he won’t always tolerate it if he’s genuinely busy.

“I know you’re just tryna distract me. You aren’t slick, you little shit.” he’ll hiss, though the truth is he just doesn’t wanna work with a boner.

— If you bite someone else he is IMMENSELY jealous. Those teeth are only for him dammit. And that realization just makes him even more embarrassed, because fuck you’ve infected him with your weirdness. He wasn’t supposed to like it too!

— He bites back in retaliation so watch out!

𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀

— He’s a tough guy, and obsessed with you, so chances are he’s not going to bat an eye if you wanna take a lil chomp every now and then. In his mind, you must think he looks tasty enough to eat, and he’ll take that as a compliment thank-you!

— That said, he does notice, and that you only do it to him specifically. His heart squeezes at that. I’m special. I’m special to them. Playing in his head in an endless loop as he stares at you with that lovesick puppy look.

— Eijirou wants to reciprocate but with teeth like his, he’d be too nervous about breaking the skin. That longing being there means something.

— He knows to pay attention to you when you nip him, lest he’d like to see how much harder you can bite. And he really didn’t wanna have to explain to Katsuki why he’s got an angry red bite mark at the base of his neck. (Truthfully Katsuki would notice but not say anything about it, equating it to his best friend getting mad pussy, which he is already plenty jealous of.)

— In a perfect world Eijirou would sit with you in his lap while you sucked dark marks into the flesh of his throat all day long.

— The more chomps you take out of him the more he desires to return the favor, imagining what your reaction would be. Would you like it? Would you let him do it again? Do you even realize you do it? Those questions bubble anxiously inside until he musters up the courage to ask.

“Hey uh, would it be totally weird if I bit you?” he slides it so casually into the conversation you almost miss it. But he can tell he’s piqued your curiosity when your eyes dart from the tv to his own, side-eying him but not fully acknowledging the question. “Like… how you love nip me sometimes — which is very cute by the way — I wanna do the same to you.”

“I don’t ask before biting you, why should you? Just bite me next time, K? It would be totally hot but you’ve ruined the element of surprise, you see?” You return to your dead-eyed stare at the tv, munching away at your snack as if nothing happened.

He stares dumbly at you for a moment before he processes that as both acceptance and a challenge.

“Right!”

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #bnha x reader #mha x reader #fumikage tokoyami x reader #tokoyami fumikage x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #n/sfw #bnha headcannons

2K notes · View notes

itz-amani · 3 months

Note

OMG IMAGINES PLEASE OF INTERACTIONS WITH HIGH SCHOOL NANAMI!

For the first time in my life finally! OMGGG THIS ONE HE IS SO EMO AHAHAH I will try my best :)

Thanks for your request!

''I'ts not that I don't like you!''

(Highschool Nanami x reader Imagines) pictures are'nt mine and sorry grammar error

a/n: fluff , a bit of suggestive

Highschool! Nanami the first time he met you, He hates how nice you are . To him , you are like ''happy go lucky or goody two shoes''. You are just like the combination of Haibara and Satoru . The way you greet him every time in the morning felt like a blessing but he is just in denial...

''Good morning Nanami -san !'' You smiled with cheerful smile

He looked away and just nodded , covering his mouth murmuring ''That smile of hers.. Gosh such a sweet girl.. ''

Even Haibara notice his best friend has a big fat ass crush on you. when he asked Nanami about his crush on you Nanami nearly cried. Its literally obvious how Nanami acts when you are around him.

''So you have a crush on her Nanami?~'' Haibara teased

''Please don't spill a word especially to that white hair creep..'' Nanami face reddened than Itadori's shoes.

Highschool! Nanami Who buys you your favorite snack at the vending machine because he knows food is your therapy and he knows how tired you are fighting curses why not treat his crush?

Highschool! Nanami Who got caught red handed by Gojo having a crush on you by having your photo smiling with a peace sign as his phone wallpaper. Gojo teases him like a lot and Geto thinks its cute.

Highschool! Nanami Who confessed to you with the help of Haibara ,Gojo and Geto because this man can't do without them.

''Sooo how are you gonna tell her Nanami? Haibara asked

''Seduce her in bed that will wor-OW SUGURU '' Gojo suggested but ended yelled in pain by Geto smacked his head

''That is not the answer Satoru..'' Geto facepalmed

Nanami ended up confessed to you by reciting a poetry about you ( what a sweet guy huh?)

Highschool! Nanami who has you laying on his lap while waiting for Haibara to finish his mission. You playing his fingers , ranting about life . the man always listen to you.

Highschool! Nanami Who listens to your crappy jokes even tho he thinks its annoying . The type that combs your hair , buys you your favorite color hairpins . He thinks its hot you wearing it.

Highschool! Nanami who gets jealous easily when Gojo talks with you. Gojo just wanted to tease Nanami how protective he is towards you . He once pissed off by Gojo lifting your chin he immediately pulls you away from Gojo , brings you to an empty corridor and having a make out session with you.

Highschool! Nanami and You got voted to be the cutest couple in the school

Highschool! Nanami who starts to saves money for you and him to live in Malaysia together when you guys are adults.

Highschool! Nanami who always have time to tutor you if you don't understand what subject you are hard to catchup especially mathematics. Study dates are always at a cafe or after school.

Highschool! Nanami who adores the couple bracelet you made for him like this photo https://i.pinimg.com/736x/17/6f/04/176f043438f365ffdbd83673308af0df.jpg

Highschool! Nanami who has his own playlist about you . sometimes you guys swap playlist . Shares his earphones with you listening to songs he thinks about you like

Die For You (The weeknd & Arianna Grande)

My love mine all mine (Mitski)

See you Again (Tyler the creator , Kali uchis )

Highschool! Nanami who makes sure you already tied you shoes , Your clumsiness he is just so protective

Highschool! Nanami who lays his head on your shoulder , his hand on your pinky on a train ride . He doesn't like to show his affections in public he prefers PDA when him and you alone.

Highschool! Nanami who invites Haibara to join your guys date such as hangin around in a cafe . The man himself is proud to Nanami's wingman. You and Haibara get along pretty well. He will and never invite Gojo.

Highschool! Nanami who always calls or facetime with you before going to bed .He can't sleep without seeing your face. He needs to make sure that you are in your room , reminding you to sleep early.

''Get some sleep love..''

''Okay if you insist Ken - Ken '' the nickname you gave him he couldn't help blushed a bit

Thank you for your request!

#jjk x reader #jjk comfort #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #itz.amani writes

232 notes · View notes

psychewritesbs · 7 months

Text

Chapter 236: Go South—JJK is generational

Gosh. Can we pleeeease just like... have a moment of silence for the one and only...THE Man, Gojo Satoru.

Ok, time's up.

Moving on.

Word vomit under the cut.

The process of reading this chapter was a very interesting one this week because the fandom got really noisy as soon as the leaks dropped.

Between allegations of bad writing and the utter sense of grief Gojo fans were expressing, it was quite the 💩 storm.

And then the actual scanlations started dropping, and little by little they replaced most of the noise with the utter sense of calm and peace and satisfaction that Gojo felt in his last moments in this plane of existence.

I gotta say that I just absolutely loved how Gege depicted those emotions (outside of Gojo's "dream") through shots of the devastated Shinjuku district.

The remnants of the battle of The Strongest, as if the landscape and the buildings themselves represented the end of an era, the devastation of the structure of Jujutsu society itself.

After all, as The Strongest sorcerer in the modern era, Gojo represented the very system he was trying to destroy.

Gege loves his irony.

Now, I would normally say that the words in the speech bubbles are superfluous because Gege creates such a beautiful atmosphere through the setting alone. But it is the words themselves that re-contextualize not just the battle, but also shed more light on Sukuna's interest in Megumi, which I feel we haven't seen the extent of what he had in mind.

Now I'm hoping this isn't a dream

Listen, I must admit I've never cared for Gojo.

I don't hate him, I don't love him, I simply never really cared for him.

That, of course, changed with this chapter.

And it is perhaps Gojo's death that really solidified in my mind the idea that one of the underlying themes in jjk is... dun dun dun... DEATH.

Yeah, I know. Sue me, I'm late to the party lmao.

But it's not just death itself that is a theme, but rather the face we put on when death comes knocking at the door.

There aren't many things that we can be certain of in this life, but death is one of them. So how we confront death and our mortality shapes the sense of self.

I know a lot of people were dissatisfied with the transition from 235 to 236 and Gege not showing how/when Gojo got slashed in half, but I find the abrupt transition makes sense, and I even dare say was... quite poetic.

For one, now knowing that Gojo knew Sukuna was holding back, a lot of incidents throughout the battle are given new meaning. Like that look of confidence on Gojo's face as he "thinks" he's finally managed to "get through" to Sukuna.

So I have to say that I loved that Gege starts the chapter with Gojo becoming aware that he has died or is dying.

In other words, Sukuna's attack was so sudden that Gojo's next moment of awareness as "Gojo Satoru" is in what we would normally think of as "the light at the end of the tunnel" where he is greeted by people who were of significance to him in his youth.

And can we please just talk about how Geto is the first person he sees when he becomes aware that he is dying?

Please. This is fucking poetry!

Insert keyboard smash.

Screaming in jjk.

Go South

I literally lack the words to explain why I love this whole chapter so much. Which is a lot to say because I am about to word vomit about it. But like...

Again, hindsight is 20/20.

I always thought of the panel above as Geto being jealous of Gojo surpassing him in strength but, in retrospect, I think Geto's disappointment had more to do with Gojo's sense of self over-identifying with the title "the strongest" and how that made him harder to relate to, which is one of the main themes in this chapter. I'll come back to this in a sec.

But first...

Quick depth psych segway. I think I've said this before, but it bears repeating again that an overwhelming sense of self is all ego. There's nothing wrong with ego per se.

The problem is that an over-identification with ego means inherent separateness because, as an organ of the psyche, the ego sense of self is what gives us a separate identity from the collective.

On the other hand, soul/heart (another organ in the psyche) is the principle of relatedness--love, the single energy that can bring us all together as a collective.

But as we already know, the stronger the sorcerer, the more overwhelming the sense of self.

Unfortunately, because an overwhelming sense of self = separateness, this also means the person in question can't relate to others.

And is this not thematically perfect for a sorcerer whose perfected cursed technique was meant to render others unable to "reach him"?

In other words, Gojo saw himself as separate (because he was "The Strongest") and that made it harder for him to relate to others, but only because he self-identified as "The Strongest".

Infinity ∞, in this sense, is also about the self-fulfilling prophecy Gojo was stuck playing out in his life in regards to seeing himself as "The Strongest".

But like a serpent eating its own tail, Gojo came back full circle, and in the moments before his death, learned that what really mattered to him was not strength for the sake of strength, but rather the connections he had fostered with others.

PLEASE. GEGE. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK?!!!!!!!!!!!

To bring it back to "Satoru became 'The Strongest'"...

I just loved so much that seeing Geto as soon as he becomes aware he's died felt like an encounter that meant Gojo had returned to the person he was before he self-identified as "The Strongest".

But more importantly, Gojo's imagination of himself as back when he was young also speaks both to how much he cherished that period of his life, and to how he was emotionally frozen in time due to his encounter with Toji.

It makes me wonder whether Gojo was afraid of dying alone when Toji almost killed him. So it's almost like what he took away from that battle was that he was always alone, and so he sought to push others away.

The kicker is that he simultaneously feared his existential isolation and yet craved the very source of his fear--human relations.

But in choosing self-preservation, he was a selfish to the very end.

What an idiot (tragically affectionate).

Anyways. How much of this is hc? Someone tell me please 😂. I feel like I went off the deep end in the last few paragraphs.

Like everyone else in this fandom I've lost all objectivity when it comes to Gojo because his departure from the story was truly one of the most heartbreaking moments in jjk.

I understand people's complaints about the "execution," but I think the world-wide phenomena that Gojo's death has spurred speaks to Gege's ability to elicit deeply archetypal emotional responses as a story teller.

With Gojo's death, a part of our own psyche too has died. And what's most significant about this death is that it was, true to Gojo's character, "something that needed to die because it represented the very thing it sought to destroy."

And this would be why I love Gege's writing.

A fitting way for Gojo to go out

I know not everyone agrees, but I really appreciated that he was satisfied and at peace in the very end.

He got his cake (battle to death with Sukuna) and got to eat it too (reconnected with his loved ones).

Sukuna

But we can't talk about Gojo without talking about Sukuna as the one who liberated Gojo from the burden of his existential isolation.

Sukuna gave Gojo a fun battle, but if it weren't because Sukuna figured out how to cut through Gojo's metaphorical defenses by learning to cut through space-time itself--the very fabric of reality, Gojo might not have found his humanity once again.

The outcome of this battle spells out in no uncertain terms how dire the situation is as Sukuna has proven himself to be the uncontested "Strongest".

But in a sense, the end is a new beginning, and this time, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

JJK is generational

I get the feeling that everyone will remember where they were when this panel dropped.

I was in bed. It was 6 am and Tasokare, my miniature panther, was demanding attention.

A moot was on the way to the gym. They never made it out of the house after seeing the panel.

Another moot was completely avoiding Twitter to avoid leaks, but her brother, who does not even read jjk, saw the panel on Facebook and showed it to her.

Yet another moot was on vacation at the beach.

JJK is generational like that and there's just so much more I can say about this chapter and its implications (like the idea that Sukuna can now cut through space-time, why?! what does he want to get out of this ability?), but I just don't even know what more I can say right now.

Anyways, thanks for reading. I'm looking forward to any thoughts you might have. Just a heads up, I'm very, very slow at replying.

#jjk ch 236 #god I love jujutsu kaisen

253 notes · View notes

dotthings · 6 days

Text

Oh, this moment on the Jensen and Rob panel at Jib14 made me so happy.

Jensen: If every time they hurt Dean, they hit his heart, they hit his chest?…Oh like a heart attack? Gosh I’ve never thought about that. That’s a really interesting like…pick up. Maybe. That’s a writer question, that’s a good question. That was never something that was conveyed to me, that was never something that was told to me, that we’re going to attack Dean’s heart the most and it’s because he’s got the biggest heart. But it’s a really good kind of perception or perspective on the story and I think it might have been one of those happy accidents that it happened that way, maybe subconsciously to the writers and probably subconsciously to me, if you want to get Dean, that’s where you get him. And it makes sense….thank you…now I’m going to think about that for the rest of the day! Thanks a lot! Rob: That was like poetry. Jensen: That was beautiful.

Although, I doubt it wasn't on purpose on the part of the writers--we've seen the symmetry on spn, we've seen how it rhymes. Although I'm sure there are a few things where they'd do it the first time, and then realize how that came across symbolically, and then keep leaning into it, because that's how creative process sometimes work. (Just saying, fandom leans way too hard into the assumption everything good on spn was accidental instead of understanding, no it wasn't, but accidents are part of the creative process, too). There's deliberate reasons Death went for Dean's heart in 15.18, for example.

Anyway I appreciate Jensen's comment here and the fan's analysis and Jensen's appreciation of their analysis and Jensen's idea that it was subconsciously in his own mind even if he didn't think about it that way himself before. Because Dean has a really big heart, and "if you want to get to Dean, that's where you get him." Bingo.

LOL poor Jensen caught Dean feelings. His faux grumpiness about it absolutely sent me. Yes, same Jensen. We do this to each other in fandom all the time. Now I've caught Dean feelings too, thanks a lot Jensen, now I'm going to think about this for the rest of the evening!!! And I'm going to spread the Dean feelings just by making this post!!! Jensen has to suffer Dean feelings, so do we!!!

#spn meta #jib14 #Jensen Ackles #Rob Benedict #Dean meta #Dean Winchester

79 notes · View notes

cillianhead · 7 months

Note

hii! your work is amazing from what i’ve seen. so so amazing. i know you do a lot of smut but i was just wondering if you would do fluff headcanons of cillian with a fem reader who absolutely adores music? also maybe what would he do if you like dragged him to a music festival? would he enjoy it? thank you so much!!

Oh my gosh! Thank you. I'm glad you enjoy what I've written so far :)

Thank you so much for your request and I will happily write a fluffy fic just for you <3

Put The Beatles On, Light The Candles, Go Back To Bed || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: None really, fluffy <3, mentions of an unspecified age gap between reader and Cillian, reader and Cillian aren't married.

You and Cillian had a very harmonious relationship. You showed him how to get out of his comfort zone more and he showed you the finer quieter things of life. Like books, new music, poetry, and films.

You've always loved music, obsessing over it since you were little, not being able to go anywhere without your headphones and something with some sort of music that could play through it. Without it you're an irritated mess. And when you met Cillian, he introduced you to new music you'd never heard before, it's what you bonded over when getting to know each other.

Before you lived together, you'd stay up all night, listening to records he'd recommend you or calling all night long, talking about whatever together, talking about music. And when you moved in, it was just perfect. His record collection was large and full of rare finds, when he was away for work, you'd play the same Beatles album over and over again, falling asleep to it. It was comforting to you, in the presence of music, you felt Cillian there, even in his absence. You couldn't listen to one song without thinking of him.

Swaying in his living room with him, his arms wrapped around you as he sung along softly to the words. He was the perfect man for you, you both had a shared love and passion for music. You'd stay up writing songs together, playing various instruments, and making up melodies to gentle love songs dedicated to one another. It was cheesy but it was also so beautiful.

One time, Cillian wrote a short sappy love song on his guitar for you, the words were simple but meaningful, you sat cross legged, watching him play his guitar with that shy smile on his face and rosy cheeks and when the song was over, he'd look at you to see your reaction to find you sitting there crying quietly.

"Oh no, Y/N, what's wrong, baby love?" He gently placed his guitar to the side, kneeling on the ground in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. "Why are you crying?"

"That... that was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, Cillian," You sobbed, whimpering as happy tears streamed down your face. That was the moment he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with you. "I love you so much, I love you, Cillian... thank you for writing that for me." You cried softly.

"Oh you sweet girl," He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips in the hopes to calm you down. Even though he knew you were happy crying, it still pained him to see your tears. "I love you more than anything, that song was only a small example of it, please don't cry or I'll start crying too..." He pulled you into his lap, tears starting to well in his own eyes, cradling you in his arms, on the floor of his living room. He hummed into your hair. You were both so incredibly in love. Two souls perfectly intertwined, your love was a slow gentle waltz and life was the music that let you dance.

Though you weren't the most extraverted person, you were definitely more outgoing than Cillian himself. He was quiet and reserved, though around you he would open up a bit more, he couldn't help being quiet when the two of you went out in public, for whatever reason it was. So when you got tickets to a one day music festival with some artists that you liked and you thought Cillian may like too, he was very hesitant to go with you. Not because he didn't want to but because he knew there would be thousands of people there, probably a lot younger than him, he'd definitely feel out of place. But he couldn't deny you something that seemed like it made you so happy.

So on the day of the festival, Cillian kept a tight arm around your waist both for his own comfort and to protect you, even if you didn't need protecting. You were so excited, raving on about how excited you were to see Lana Del Rey and all the other artists that were performing. He smiled at how happy you were. You had a glow around you when you were smiling, one that made him give you big heart eyes.

"You're so cute, love," He muttered into your hair as he placed a loving kiss on your temple. "Gonna make you m'wife, love how you love music, love you."

"Oh shut up!" You teased, nudging him softly as you shook your head bashfully. You stood more towards the back of the mosh pit, so you guys had a little more room to dance and privacy to yourselves. The event was quite colorful, people covered in glitter and nothing else walked by and tight revealing clothes, you could see Cillian's flushed face, he wore one of his cardigans and dress pants, a very modest outfit, one he usually wore everyday. You thought he was so cute. You could tell he was nervous. "I love you, Cillian, we can always leave if you don't feel up to it... I won't be upset. I just want you to feel okay." You kissed him reassuringly, he just smiled at you in response. That's all you needed to see to know he was telling you he was alright.

Your relationship was like that. You didn't need to speak to understand each other, you could give each other a glance and you would know how the other was feeling. Your hearts were connected, after all.

When the performer came on stage, Cillian took a step back, leaning against one of the barricades and watching you with a grin on his pretty face, arms crossed loosely over his chest. You danced and swayed to the music, singing your heart out to the words. You were the most beautiful thing to him, so carefree and free spirited, an angel in human form. Occasionally you'd look back at him with that big dopey smile of pure bliss, your eyes full of love and Cillian didn't know how he could love you more in that moment. He'd never met anyone like you, anyone that he could spend days and days on end with and never get sick of.

Though big crowds and festivals weren't his thing, the sight of you dancing to the music and laughing at how much fun you were having was the most lovely thing. It made his heart swell and a sense of calmness floated over him. You were all he ever wanted. As long as you were happy, he was happy.

As one of the slower songs began to play, you walked over to him, leaning against him and swaying softly, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he placed gentle kisses on your neck and collarbones. Your skin was like a drug to him, the high washing over him in waves. "My lovely girl," He'd whisper. "Love of my life."

"I love you, Cillian." You felt like the luckiest person in the world. As long as you had Cillian's love and music, you knew you'd be okay.

Oh to be in Cillian's arms and swaying softly to music :(

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy fluff #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders #oppenheimer #oppenheimer 2023 #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x y/n

314 notes · View notes

themotherofblood · 1 year

Note

Dark!Daemyra x daughter!eeader but it’s their actual biological daughter (meaning rhaenyras the mom).

Remember in episode 4 when everyone thought that rhaenyra had her virtue taken by daemon? What if they actually had a kid?

Gosh I kinda made this a little too angsty so bare with me. I’m just really bad at writing to the point, I wanted to add some context to the smut hehe. So I hereby present

Dark!Daemyra x Daughter!reader

tw: incest, infantilism, cheating…(kinda?) murder, talks of more incest babies and kinda non con-ish? jason lannister (🤢) smut! oral, missionary kinda courrpution vibes. Threesome

7.8k words

A mistake, a grave mistake.

Not you, the one that had brightened Rhaenyra’s world with your little laugh, the one that had her hair and her uncle’s charisma - but the deed done to conceive you had been the most terrible of errors.

By right, you were Rhaenyra’s first-born child and heir; however, given the time of conception and the beautiful (pale, too pale) features you had been born with, it was obvious that you were not the offspring of Laenor Velaryon, but of her brutish uncle Daemon Targaryen. What remained were the rumours of Rhaenyra and Daemon coupling at a notorious brothel on the Street of Silk. Bastardy or the Iron Throne, that remained the question of your birthright to many. Your conception was a greater source of whispers and slander than that of your brown-haired ‘Strong’ brothers.

You weren’t raised in the Red Keep; with the brunt of the court upon your muña’s shoulders, she’d hoped to keep you shielded away from the cruel gossip that surrounded you even at the mere age of five. You hadn’t even set eyes upon her for years, making do with the letters that detailed how much she missed you and a chest full of trinkets and dolls to share with the young daughters of the vassal lords sworn to Dragonstone.

Daemon Targaryen, on the other hand was truly banished after word of his murdering his first wife Rhea Royce reached his brother’s - your grandsire’s - ears. While there was no formal accusation nor trial, Viserys was simply at his wit's end with the reckless goings-on of his younger brother. He had left Westeros even before your mother had realised that the moon tea she had consumed had not worked.

Daemon found his family elsewhere. After slaying a sea lord who was promised the hand of Laena Velaryon, he married her and then fled to Pentos with her and her dragon. The word of a Targaryen bastard being born from the Crown Princess was most certainly to spread like a plague, far enough to reach your kepa’s ears. He wanted to come back the second he heard of you, but his brother denied his request. When you were shipped off to Dragonstone, he wished to fetch you - but this time, his wife refused him, not wishing to raise the love child he had with his niece.

He had begun to send letters of Valyrian poetry, old texts of Valyrian romance and many other trinkets. You had written to him the day you claimed your dragon, which happened in a hilarious accident as you had trailed through the Dragonmont to make friends with a silver dragon, a she-dragon named Silverwing. Though the letter you had written had gone without reply, you had waited for a year and then accepted the dark truth. He had other daughters and another family. By request of the King, you were raised by Septas and the handmaidens at Dragonstone.

At present, you waited by the Painted Table. While one might not have been eager at the sound of people returning from a funeral, you indeed were. Mother had spent four moons at Dragonstone, leaving the Red Keep behind for good until the time arrived for her ascension. These four months had been bliss; you were introduced to your brothers. When you had first departed, Lucerys was still a babe suckling at Rhaenyra’s breast. Now, she returned with another little babe. -Your good-father returned as well, the one knight that could have flung your body high to the skies and caught you right in time. He had engulfed you in an embrace the moment he saw you.

Then came the letter of Laena Velaryon’s passing, and the world shifted under your good-father’s feet. With respect to Laena’s memory and the illegitimacy of your station, the Queen Alicent had advised Rhaenyra to not have you come along with the family. You were accustomed to such treatment; it mattered not. Yet the news of your kepa’s return churned your belly. You had never laid eyes on the man, having seen a mere few portraits hung in the grand galleries at Dragonstone. He looked much like you when he was a babe, and yet the older he grew you imagined him to be the embodiment of the courteous knights you read of in your books.

You had worn your nicest dress, and your preparations had begun with digging through all the letters he had ever sent you, having the chefs prepare his favourite foods and procuring a fat sheep for Caraxes. The household staff all lined themselves up by the halls. It had been years since their Rogue Prince returned home. While many admired the man, others feared him. Regardless of his reputation, there had been respect for his name upon every rock on the island.

Rhaenyra had walked in first with your brothers, her face softening at seeing you looking eagerly at the grand doors. She hugged you, rubbing the side of your arms as she stood behind you. Your sisters… You weren’t sure if they would have taken it well if you called them such. They were introduced first as a knight called out their titles. They bowed first, reminding you that you were a Princess and they only ladies. Then, everything went silent - you heard the thudding of boots before your vision was clouded by the image of shoulder-length silver hair.

Daemon Targaryen stood atop the steps, hands held together in front of him. He commanded the room with just his purple eyes. Your eyes. You were so entranced by his presence you almost forgot to ask about your good-father. He approached you, a princely smile upon his lips, and you failed to keep your lady-like composure.

The first thing that came from his mouth was your name. Your name had never sounded so wondrous as it did at that very moment. He greeted you, and your voice abandoned you as you opened your mouth to return his niceties. You must have looked like a fool, mouth parted as no words came forth. Your mother’s voice snapped you from whatever had possessed you.

“The honour is mine, my Prince,” you said, bowing your head. You wanted nothing more than to call him kepa - but there was so much unsaid. It didn’t seem appropriate to you at the moment.

Another two fortnights passed, and you were still grappling with the thought that both the people that created you now sat with you as you broke fast. Your brothers again ran wild in your chambers and now, you had two little sisters - twins.

One night, your mother came to your room, looking far happier than she usually was as she sat at the edge of your bed. You put your book away on your lap, awaiting whatever it is she wanted to tell you.

“Your kepa and I are to be wed!”

You had helped dress her for the very day. Your legitimacy was now sealed with fire and blood as your parents swore their vows to the Fourteen Flames. You had hand-lit every yellow and red candle along with your siblings, being perhaps the happiest you had been in all your life. Maester Gerardys had perhaps shared your joy, having raised you in these very halls and witnessing your disappointment whenever there had been no letter from Rhaenyra nor Daemon.

Their marriage was beautiful. Both looked far deeper in love than any poet could ever profess in words. There was longing, a sense of time lost between them. Perhaps, in a way - as they looked at you after sealing their union with a kiss - you were their love made flesh and bone, their blood running through your veins. Two ears, ten fingers and toes, and eyes that flared with the same longing Rhaenyra and Daemon had so long had for one another.

Both made concerted efforts between the sheets to reclaim the years lost, and they made efforts with you, offering you the attention you deserved from them. Daemon smiled ear-to-ear as he saw you loving up against his grandmother’s former mount, an elegant creature that matched your demeanour.

Daemon had once said “the gods give, as they take away.” Those words had come to royally interrupt the quaint life he lived with his family at Dragonstone. Word was to indefinitely spread about him marrying his niece, and soon did it grace the ears of his brother - and his cunt of a Hand. A white raven, the symbol of urgency, bore the demand that the entire household of the Blacks were to present themselves at Viserys’s court. There was no indication of whether the King approved or not, but naught was to be done other than abide by his brother’s demands. Thus, the older children mounted their dragons along with Daemon and Rhaenyra and set the course for their journey to the Red Keep.

Your memories had been rather faint of these halls. You remembered walking them and all your heart felt was its cold aura. It wasn’t home. Their welcome hadn’t been warm to be sure - a wheelhouse had received you at the Dragonpit alongside your parents, Baela, Rhaena and Jacaerys. Your Septa had squeezed you into a tight corset, one that you had never worn before, your hair braided far too tight for your liking. It was how the ladies dressed at court, they had told you.

The Targaryen guards had led your family straight to the Throne Room. Crowds of people assembled on both sides and the gallery crawled with young ladies, some your age, some younger. You had slotted yourself behind your kepa’s larger frame, finding an odd urge to hide as every eye in the room seemed to have been fixated on you and every whisper called your name. You hoped you were a lady enough to satiate whatever expectations these strangers had thrust upon your shaking hands.

Viserys was furious, as furious as he could be given his condition. He wasn’t the man you remember, his full cheeks and the head of hair that you had inherited and a hand gone. He pulled himself by using his sword Blackfyre as a cane, accusing his brother - your sweet kepa - of terrible obscenities. You wanted to defend him, you truly did. You wanted to scream, lecture the court on the man Daemon Targaryen really was. Of how much he loved his family, so much so that he had abandoned you the day his late wife begged him so.

There was much said and done, most of which made the corners of your eyes water with furious tears as you reached for your mother’s hands. Everything Viserys and Otto Hightower questioned about their union directly mirrored your existence.

It was a sham. You weren’t a sham.

It was a manipulation. You weren’t a lie.

It was a crime, that much was true; you were a bastard, after all. You were Rhaenyra’s first-born, yet stood to inherit nothing. You were the shield that politically protected your brothers. This marriage put everything into question. Who were you anymore?

What you were was a perfect example and a trap for Otto Hightower to lay in the King’s lap, offering you as an auspicious match with House Lannister. Of course, the words were never to be said, but this marriage was a blessing from the gods for the likes of you. You were ambushed by the Small Council on the second day of your return to the Red Keep.

The second the name of Jason Lannister spilt through your grand-sire’s lips, Rhaenyra was outraged. Never had you witnessed her this crazed over something, her eyes dark and voice low. She matched the intimidating aura of your father, perhaps giving you a glimpse of the similarities between them.

“She is to be my heir!” Rhaenyra argued, her voice booming through the chambers. “I will not have you sell her like you tried with me, father!”

The debate had grown heated. Jason was a proud man, from what you had heard, and your mother fought on your behalf for a different right altogether. For once (in your own stupidity) you saw purpose, a purpose you viewed as your grand-sire’s affection; a sense of duty you had never felt before. After so long spending your days wandering in the world of your own head, for once you felt a woman. A false sense of naive hope. When Rhaenyra urged that they in the least listen to what you had to say, your words echoing through the chambers were the last thing she expected.

“I will do my duty if that is what the King wishes,” you nervously mumbled. “The throne would not agree with me, mother.”

That had been five years ago. You were a proud lion now, or so said the letters that you sent home every other moon. You had been a dutiful wife to Jason Lannister, to be sure. Your bastardy had been allayed by the magnificent dragon you claimed, and your womb that would finally bring the glory of possessing dragon eggs to the Lannister name. He had been a good husband to you, showering you with gold and fineries beyond your needs, a perfectly dolled-up Targaryen wife dressed in the crimsons and gold of the Lannister heritage. You wanted to enjoy it, you truly did. You had craved such attention from a young age, but something in your mind nagged that it wasn’t genuine.

You spent much of your time hidden in the library, which Lord Jason had at first said would have made your little head spin.

You had claimed victory over it in a mere year, and so you had asked for more books; if he was to spoil you so, perhaps he could provide you with something of more use. And yet, your chests continued to be filled with more jewellery, the finest dresses and boots. You would scold yourself for not finding joy in this. There were children starving in the country and you complained of fine dresses being too much.

The love-making between you was respectable, quick. It was far easier than the complicated mess your Septa had chastely told you about. You would spread your legs for him and just lay there. However, once the first year of your union passed and you still hadn’t borne a child, things grew ugly.

Jason had been dismissive at first, petting your head and claiming your youth as the impediment of your lack of conception. Then, it was the Maesters hounding you with ways to be with child. from putting your legs high in the air after being pumped full of your lord husband’s seed to avoiding wines at feasts. They recommended positions to be placed in; then, they requested that you refrain from dragon riding. Your favourite foods were targeted soon after, the spices in them after that; and soon, your meals were left with just salt in them.

That bled to the third year of your marriage. The gossip that had been abandoned because of your wedding was now set ablaze yet again. You suffered it all with a stiff lip.

The latest requirement had been for you to remain abed for most of the day, a consequence for going against your husband’s wishes and riding Silverwing after eight moons without. There was just something in her eyes that begged you to ride her, perhaps to save you from your own misery. When you returned, you had been grateful that you rode her.

The flattery that your lord husband had doted upon you with before bedding you had long faded with frustration. Couplings had always been a chore, but now it was painful as you laid there wishing for it to end. He would enter your chambers, undoing his doublet and you just knew. You would push down your small-clothes and spread your legs for him before returning to slumber alone. You had counted every petal embroidered onto your canopy as Jason grunted in your ear. You would run your fingers down his back, his hair, hoping to make him peak sooner.

One night, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to lay with him from how exhausted you had been, barely being able to eat the boiled food and enduring yet another feast that ran from dusk to dawn. You refused him politely, hoping that he would lounge with you or leave you to your endeavours alone. Instead, he lectured you on your duty, his breath stinking of strong wine as he forcefully yanked you towards your bed. You had protested, fought against his hold, but it had no effect on him. He had easily torn through your shift as he had turned you to your belly. All you remembered were the stern words of your inability to provide him with heirs when the whores down at brothels of Lannisport had already birthed bastards for him, your head shoved into the pillow to muffle your protests, and then the dread as you felt his seed from within you spill onto your sheets.

He took you in such a manner twice more, growing further irate with the judgments of his family. He was your husband - he had the right. That was, until your sheets were stained in red once more. The handmaidens and the maesters all huffed in defeat yet again, and you were sure your husband had been at a brothel for his business down at Lannisport.

So you ran.

Silverwing roared as she perched herself upon Casterly Rock, scaring the knights in their golden helms away. She flew you swiftly through the skies, heading towards the one place you felt the safest, the one place you should have returned to years before.

“Dārilaros, Silverwing ēza sepār māzigon naejot se Dragonmont,” a Dragonkeeper hastily informed Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to Daemon who was seated next to her by the Painted Table as they went over season books for the fourth moon. They wasted no time in hurrying past Aegon’s Garden to see you, their daughter, dismounting Silverwing in a red gown. They rejoiced, finally setting eyes upon their blood after five years. The second you laid eyes upon your mother, you rushed to engulf her. Daemon wrapped his arms around both his wife and you, placing a kiss atop your head.

You had returned to your bedchamber in the Sea Dragon Tower, claiming that you were overdue a visit and your duties had freed you for long enough to fly home. Neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra were daft; you had arrived devoid of any riding clothes, dressed in a heavy gown and jewellery. With no clothes nor belongings, it was obvious that something had happened, but they allowed you your space.

You were overjoyed at being able to let your hair down and wear your old gowns. You had slept that night, sprawled across your bed like a happy child, fed and tucked in.

As the days passed, you were introduced to your new siblings - not half-siblings, but ones who shared the same parentage, the same blood as you. You learned of the toddler named Aegon and a babe of one and eight moons named Viserys, and the healthy girl your mother had named Visenya. You found much joy in meeting them. They reminded you of your childhood, though you were perhaps a little envious that they would grow up in much better circumstances than you did.

Rhaenyra had found you one afternoon, humming a Valyrian lullaby to Visenya, the words of which you had forgotten years before but you had hummed to yourself at nights to remind yourself of the memory of home. You were the blood of the dragon; you were the daughter of dragons. That glint of sorrow in your eyes had told Rhaenyra all that she needed to know.

“It is a matter of heirs,” she had told Daemon as he helped her onto their marital bed. “I fear what they might have imposed on her, Daemon.”

Rhaenyra knew first-hand of Jason Lannister’s pride.

“She doesn’t look herself anymore,” Daemon agreed. While Rhaenyra dreamt of a beneficial way of helping you, Daemon had already dreamt of a far more violent one, for years beforehand.

A prideful man with a runaway bride has never been a great song. Jason had set sail himself to retrieve his wayward wife from Dragonstone, winged beast to lead back into your golden cage. His ship was filled with more trinkets and fineries to sway you and your parents to hand you back to him, a place he believed you belonged.

He presented himself at Rhaenyra’s court as she sat the throne at Dragonstone. Without an inkling of enthusiasm or warmth, she accepted her son-in-law’s presence with Daemon standing next to her, also unimpressed by the blonde fool.

“I have come to convey my sweet wife home. Casterly Rock is much too cold without her fire,” he cajoled, his voice echoing through the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Rhaenyra had sent for you the second she had greeted your husband in the chambers. You arrived but moments later, your cheeks filled with colour from devouring your lunch of roast goose. Your feet abruptly halted the moment you saw the hair yellowish-blonde hair, knowing it could mean only one thing. Rhaenyra’s eyes caught yours first, and then your husband turned to find you in what he would deem a distasteful gown.

You hiked your skirts and bolted down the other corridor, paying no mind to the rain pouring heavily outside and running through Aegon’s Garden. Silverwing had already perched herself atop the Dragonmont as she had felt your distress. Her roar echoed with the thundering in the clouds above. Daemon chased after you, his quick feet catching up to yours with ease.The household guard blocked your path from exiting through the gates of Dragonstone.

“No, no! Please!” you wailed as Daemon caught onto your hands. “I cannot go back! Please, don’t send me back!”

Daemon’s eyes flared in concern over your distraught face. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you only screamed louder over the heavy pattering of rain.

“I will throw myself off the Windwrym Tower if you send me with him! Please, please, do not make me go back,” you cried. Your kepa pulled you closer, shushing your pained sobs as you begged harder.

Daemon had managed to reassure you that no one would force you back to Casterly Rock unless you wished it so. He had been horrified at how miserable you must be to threaten your own life in order to remain at Dragonstone, and his blood boiled to learn the truth of the matter. Rhaenyra had the servants prepare a room for your lord husband in an entirely different tower. You felt secure in knowing that Jason wouldn’t be allowed in the Sea Dragon Tower since it housed your chambers as well as your parents' chambers a floor above.

This is where you were brought after your handmaidens had helped you out of your soaking wet gown, huddled by the hearth crackling with a freshly stoked fire, a blanket of soft furs and a cup of warm tea in your hands. While you chose to sit on the floor, Daemon sat on his armchair, hoping to make you speak. Your wet hair clung to the sides of your face, a face that was once filled with so much light. Now, it hid something from him, and he couldn’t bear it.

“If you won’t tell me what happened, I cannot protect you,” he urged, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What has happened, zaldrītsosi?”

You shook your head once more, making Daemon groan in frustration. You played with the rim of the tea cup, circling your finger around it, over and over again. You felt your father’s frustrations, gods know you had endured it yourself for years. In truth you were embarrassed of your inability to be a good wife, perhaps the harshness your lord husband had showed you- you deserved it.

The chamber door opened once more with Rhaenyra finally making her way to you, while Daemon felt clueless about what caused your outburst. Rhaenyra had her suspicions, she shuffled her skirts to lower herself next to you, she didn’t ask a thing but just wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Letting you know that you were taken care of, that you were home. Whatever tactic was this, it worked as the first words of your confession echoed through the chambers.

“I cannot go back,” you said, “He deserves to find another wife.”

You had tried to be the loveable wife your mother had been to both her husbands. She bore three sons for the first and three more children for your kepa, within the matter of five years when you couldn’t even conceive one.

“He is lucky to have a wife like you,” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to your temple.

You shook your head again “I’m not so…perfect like you.”

Rhaenyra frowned, never once had she wanted you to feel this inferior but your insecurities had been radiating through your skin. Daemon remained silent, letting his wife coax your reasoning out of you, perhaps you would do it quicker so he could fetch Dark Sister and resolve the matter.

“Lord Jason is my husband, he has a right to be sure,” you whispered, nuzzling further into Muña's embrace. “The way he held me down, for refusing to lay with him…” your voice trailed “I n-never want to feel that, ever again.”

Daemon saw red, even more so for the reason that you had not a clue of what had happened to you. A crime he had dismembered many during his days as the commander of the gold cloaks, his wife’s eyes shot to him. Silently begging him to not act on his anger just yet, he agreed - you needed them more. Your cries were silent, calmer than the onslaught before, Daemon let your head as you whimpered in your mother’s arms.

Somewhere along the evening you had succumbed to your exhaustion, Daemon had carried you into their bed and tucked you in. The silence left Rhaenyra and Daemon with a grave decision, they would have to petition Viserys to have your marriage annulled, however to lay the history of what you had suffered bare in court. The plea had to come from you, Rhaenyra had shuffled under the furs that night, her warm fingers trying to soothe the frown you sported even in you sleep. Daemon hummed that familiar lullaby as you stirred, feeling their bodies mould to yours - only this time you remembered the words.

Come morning, Rhaenyra had sent for Jason Lannister early in the morning; she had left her lady in waiting - Elinda Massey - to watch after you as you slept sprawled across their bed. In very distasteful words, Rhaenyra shunned your husband, Daemon stood beside her with his hand eagerly gripped around the pompel of Dark Sister. He paced back and forth, internally begging his wife to let him have the Lannister cunt’s head.

When you awoke, Elinda had helped you prepare yourself for the day. Your shoulders felt lighter, like a burden lifted from your shoulders. A content smile had finally adorned your face as you lounged in your parents chambers (far too elated). Rhaenyra returned from court with Daemon at her heel, trying to walk away the burning rage within her before she greeted you. She had sat you down, telling you of how Jason had returned to Casterly Rock and that the Blacks were to petition the royal court once more to have your marriage annulled. You threw your arms around Rhaenyra, profusely thanking her as she petted your hair.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered over your face for a little longer, the fullness of your cheeks, the purple of your eyes; gave her glimpses of herself and Daemon. There was something that overcame her, a subject Daemon and Rhaenyra had spoken at length about - first after their wedding night and second was last night. Her thumbs stroked your cheeks before her rosy lips found yours, it wasn’t a chaste kiss and yet the feeling that churned in you belly. You had yearned to feel it through the five torturous years of your marriage, when she pulled away you were stunned. Eyes glossed and mind in shambles.

“You are the glorious thing that came from us, sweet girl,” she whispered “you are to remain with us now, forever.”

She had pulled you up to stand in between your kepa and her, he was silently observing your reactions. You felt entrapped, not in the malicious way you had been caged in your marital bed, but the tenderness they had for you anchored you down, engulfing you in warmth. Daemon turned to hold your face in his hands, his roughed digits stroking at your heated blush stained cheeks.

“Let us take you the way you were meant to, let us show you riñītsos,” he requested. What were you to do? Pull away from the affection you were being dotted with after beggin for it for years. You nodded, mumbling a meek yes.

Rhaenyra turned you towards her again, both kepa and her working with haste to strip your body off your gown, leaving trails of sweet kisses upon your pale skin. The back of your neck to the pulsing at your wrists, they showed you reasons to live; showed reasons of why you were the most precious thing in the Known world. The smell from Rhaenyra’s flowered soaps mixed with Daemon’s woody ones, encasing you between their larger frames. You perked breasts spilt free first, your mother’s warm mouth immediately trapped the pebble between her lips. Suckling to harden them, and leave bruises of passion apon your milky skin. Daemon joined her efforts, his lips claiming your neck as he held you hand.

You couldn’t breathe, one would find lust, passion or even contentment within the feel of their lips but a deeper pit bubbles in your stomach. When you blinked your eyes open, they welled in tears and your breath hitched. Fighting to take in a bigger gasp of air, the years went on and you truly felt as beastly as they saw Silverwing. One incapable being found desirable, that your husband would resort to pumping bastards into tavern whores. You face scrunched, scolding yourself to enjoy this and yet you didn’t want them to see you bare; perhaps they would hate you too.

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened the moment she saw your discomfort and kissed your cheek. Hoping you would confess your feelings without coaxing.

“I won’t be to your liking,” you hung your head low, more tears streamed down your face.

“Nonsen - you are the most beautiful girl in the Known world,” Rhaenyra reassured, lifting your face to look at her. Perhaps it was something in her eyes that made you want to believe her flattery.

“How can you know?” You sniffed, wiping the tears with your wrists.

“We made you, who else would know better?” Daemon said, his voice softer than usual as looked down at you.

Mother had been incapable of bedding Daemon since birthing Visenya two moons ago, she was still healing. They believed that it was your husband’s incapacity to impregnate you; all your life at Dragonstone your moonblood’s course had been near perfect. It was to their benefit, your womb deserved to carry pure Valyrian babes anyhow. A witted mind may even see this as an advantage, with you as Rhaenyra’s heir. The silver of your hair, the smile that matched Daemon’s and little Valyrian babes of your own. Your mother’s claim would remain untouchable.

Daemon had led you to their bed, perhaps now your own. Rhaenyra had stripped herself to just her corset and chemise, while she intended on assisting her husband she would be a fool to not find pleasure in Daemon bedding you. Your father had been displeased as you crawled into bed and spread your legs open for him. While he admired the gesture of you presenting yourself to him, he tutted at how bereft of pleasures you were.

“Fucking is a pleasure you see, for the man and woman,” he had sultry eyes set upon you as he devices of ways to have you screaming for him.

Your legs already remained parted for him as you held your inner thighs, you were expecting his cock to penetrate you and yet he was fully clothed. It was horror that filled you next as Daemon kneeled by the edge of the bed, his fingers gently stroked the sides for your mound before he flattened his tongue on your slit.

“K-kepa what are you d-,” a whine tore through your lips as you felt his lips suckling at your sensitive flesh. Daemon feasted on your cunny, like a delicacy with exotic flavours plated just for him. You muña had skittles herself next you, bracketing a leg to hold your thigh open as she paid much needed attention to your nipples. Her fingers toyed with one as her mouth nibbled on the other.

The throes of coupling were all you’d known awhile you dutifully suffered in the sheets, this - this - was tenacious; never ending as it hurtled you further into its depravity. The sounds of your squelching cunt and Daemon humming against your folds as Rhaenyra whispered the sweetest of endearments in your ears, their little girl…made just for them to ruin.

Daemon locked his palm against your, tangling your fingers between in him a silent call of, he was here for you, he would take care of you. Rhaenyra caressed your flushed face, the tickle of delicate fingertips distracted you from your insecurities. Your cunny felt the stretch of your Kepa's fingers, his thick digit knuckle deep within you. You hadn’t realised your body could even feel this way, so weightless that all you felt was the throbbing around your puffy bud. The textures on his tongue fondling with the tender flesh, how soft his actions were along with your mother’s ministrations of keeping the rest of your bare body ablaze.

You found your voice, as your breathy mewls turned to a shameless moans because of Daemon’s finger gracing a foreign spot within you; pumping in and out repeatedly. Your hips hiked off the bed, grinding into your kepa’s mouth. He gently held your hip down, you arched you back, unable to decipher the waves of tingles that ran up your thighs.

“Please, please!” you begged, unsure of it as you pleaded for, all you body seemed to yell at you was to find the ending.

A sudden, furious bliss burst through your core; you hadn’t felt anything like it before. You screamed their name, praying to the Gods to save you. You felt his tongue still laying soft licks on your bed as your thighs clenched around his head. You fell flat back against the beds, heavy breathing as you tried to gather your bearings.

“Wh- what…?” You couldn’t finish the question clouding your mind, your words lost on your lips.

“That sweet girl…was your peak,” Rhaenyra gingerly placed a kiss upon your temple. Her fingers mindlessly trailed up and down the valley of her breasts.

My peak…my peak you had incoherently whispered under your breath. “Will you bed me now?” You looked at your father expectantly.

“Would you like me too… would you like kepa to pump you full of his seed?” He whispered against your folded thighs as he pressed wet kisses across your pale flesh.

Your head eagerly nodded, wanting to feel more of what the art of pleasures had to offer. You wanted this ecstasy that Daemon spoke off. You wanted to drown yourself in it, having someone touch you so brutally broke a part of your aura - tragically - but your kepa and muña sewed your pieces back together. A cascading light that hurtled towards misery now floated high above the clouds, happy as you should have been.

“Say it riñītsos,” Rhaenyra whispered against your lips.

“Please bed me, kepa,” you asked, eyes flaring purple as did theirs. You shuffled against his hold on your thighs, the skin w clawing at your insides.

Daemon looked at Rhaenyra and chuckled, shaking his head at your niceties. “Such a polite thing, our daughter.” Rhaenyra indulged in stripping her husband for you, peeling his doubly away from him before freeing him from his breeches. Your kepa’s member was far more monstrous than your lord husband’s, it spurred a fear under your chest; the memories of bedding and the last night you had shared Jason’s bed were fresh within your mind. Daemon caught onto the apprehension that flared in the purple of your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “M’ going to be gentle…unless you ask me not to be,”

You hadn’t understood what he meant but your heart eased, preparing yourself to feel the bitter stretch of his bulbous tip at your entrance. Braced in position you waited for the burn to flare through your nethers but it never came. Merely the pressure of the hard line pushing you open, a little uncomfortable at best but the pain you had expected was nowhere to be found. You blinked your eyes upon, pulling yourself to grace upon where yours and Daemon’s body connected. You hissed at the fullness but appeared shocked, you looked to him; his eyes softened at the state of your discovery. Coupling was never meant to be a chore.

Rhaenyra circled her fingers upon your yearning pearl, you greedily raised your head pleading for her to kiss you and so she did. Her rounded mouth moulded against yours, a kiss that once rose bile to your throat - the tongues being far too much - your kittenish hum invited her in willingly. You could taste your shared breath, commanding you with the grape scent of her lips. Daemon had begun rocking himself, determined strokes rutting into your - his sweet cunny - his baby’s warm walls as he could barely contain himself from watching your mother dote upon you with honeyed vulgarity.

Daemon grunted, wanting to feel the touch of your lips as he tucked his hands behind the small of your back. You held your kepa’s face in your hands, lifting yourself just enough to taste the spiced wine that linger on his lips; his tongue raspily greeted yours. You mewled into his mouth, legs wrapping around his rear as your Rhaenyra and Daemon took turns whispering sweet obscenities in your ear. They made this cunny for them to use… kepa would breed you swollen of his Valyrian babes, pure babes. There perfect little dragon

Naught was of importance as you begged kepa to piston within you harder, you body smothered between the ones of your blood (warm, far too warm). Trickles of tears that fell from the corners of your eyes disappear in your hairline, Daemon wiped them - grunting louder - with his adoration directed straight st you. Rhaenyra had pulled him closer for a kiss, tasting you upon his lip as his hammering never once faltered. You wanted to peak again, you wanted to fly again.

“K-kepa, I- so good,” your words muddled at the tip of your tongue, but the way your cunt fluttered around his cock. There was just one reason to be sure. He looked to Rhaenyra, a short nod of his followed with your muña fingers working in tighter - quicker - circles around your throbbing nub.

“Oh - that’s it, pretty girl, come for kepa…wet his cock,” Rhaenyra cooed at you, your back arched off the bed. A longing whine tore through your lip, pleading Daemon to go harder. He obliged, haunching his body over as his shoulders laid flush against your chest. His heavy stones slapping against your rear. You wanted it, your insides clawed at you to peak.

“Our sweet little dragon, come - come now.”

Daemon’s order hadn’t gone unheard, in true fashion of a father’s daughter you peaked for him, your pleasures gushing through you core as your scream lodged itself at the back of your throat. Leaving only whimpers and squeaks behind as your finger nails dug into Daemon’s shoulder.

Days had passed since, once you had tasted the world of pleasures, the next four day you had spent either bouncing on your kepa’s cock; begging him to fill your cunt or muña fingers pulling peak after peak from your body.

The moment of truth arrived sooner that you had expected, you had flown to court once more. Viserys had been gravely ill, as a mourning grandchild your heart ached for what had become of the once proud king. As a wronged wife, you feared if Otto Hightower would have your best intentions in sight. Whil by marriage it would have been appropriate for you to wear an alarmingly bright red gown and jewellery of gold. You had come dressed in the darker crimsons of your house as you stood in between your kepa and muña.

Jason Lannister presented an elaborate case, claiming you as his - how your place was at Casterly Rock and not behind your mother’s skirts. He even made attempts to approach you, but the deathly glare Daemon had set upon your husband made Jason’s cowardice known. The Blacks and Greens had separated them on each end, and by the passing day it had become rather evident that if you returned with Jason, your support of your mother would be squandered under their golden foot.

Otto Hightower then called the Blacks forwards as he sat upon the Targaryen throne as if it were his own. Rhaenyra stepped forward to petition on your behalf but was dismissed by her old bitter companion Alicent Hightower - the Queen.

“Your daughter is far above her age to petition for herself, Princess Rhaenyra, unless she is daft…?” Alicent retorted.

Your eyes darted between your mother and father as they looked to your covering frame, they wanted to protest but what other choice had they given you. With cautious mannerisms you stepped forward, cultivating your sentences of beggary in your head to not stumble upon them. Your fingers fiddled with one another as you stood at the front of the throne room; with the entire court gathered to see your humiliation. Much of everything had sounded muffled to you, they would send you back, he would take you back. You should have flung yourself the first chance you had.

The night before, Rhaenyra had visited her father’s chambers. Maternal tears coating her face as she begged her father for you life. Daemon had told her of your threat to end your existence. What she thought were pleadings fallen to deaf ears, she had hoped to use her inheritance to save you from this curse or have Daemon flee with you to Essos. To remain there until Rhaenyra would take the throne.

Perhaps a call from the heavens answered your pleas (Rhaenyra’s efforts in truth) the grand door to the Throne Room opened, your grand-sire limping his way through a startled court. An old dragon lashing out to protect his blood once more, you moved away. Mouth agape just as the rest, Viserys had come to sit on his throne after four years of sabbatical.

To shield your honour, as your father - Daemon approached his brother to present your case in private. Telling him of the cruelties you had suffered and Jason’s inability to provide you heirs. To which Viserys coughed out his disdain on the Lannister’s lack of providing his granddaughter with heirs.

“Her heir? Tis my family that would be shamed because she is barren. Yet I choose to take my sweet wife back to my noble seat.” Jason scoffed, looking at Rhaenyra like she was delusional.

Rhaenyra passed a knowing look to Daemon before letting go of your hand. She looked right at the vast lords gathered at the court “My first born, my daughter is to be my heir. Your future Queen and a second wife to my prince consort.”

Horrid gasps echoed through the Throne Room, Alicent looked disgusted along with her father. You looked at your mother in shock, unable to grapple the titles she had just placed in your lap.

“Your grace! This is an abomination!” Otto Hightower protested, hoping for the King to see reason.

“She cannot be Queen…” Jason muttered, just as shocked as you.

“And w- why is that?” Viserys coughed.

“Well she is…” his blond brows furrowed tightly, his glare fixated upon you for embarrassing him. Your father raised a challenging brow to him, say it…say it Daemon prayed as he once again clutched the pommel of Dark Sister, he looked to his wife and begged like a toddler to let him end this. Rhaenyra looked at Daemon through his periphery and agreed, subtly nodding at him.

“She is a bastard,” he shrugged, looking appalled, finding this entire situation ridiculous.

Viserys groaned, huffing as he unsheathed his dagger; angered and ready to place his judgement. “I will have your tongue for that!”

Thwack!

You hadn’t realised when your kepa had moved from behind you to trail behind your husband - headless husband - your mother yanked back to look away from the decapitated corpse as knights all around charged at Daemon. He merely wiped his sword away at his cape, before returning to stand next to you.

“You’re a widow now,” he smugly whispered in your ear.

#daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader #daemon #young rhaenyra #queen rhaenyra #princess rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader #daemon au #ruie writes

1K notes · View notes

mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

Note

Hi! i hope your having a good day. i love your work and was wondering if you could maybe do skz headcannons with an idol s/o who’s the main dancer in their group?

stray kids with their main dancer idol! s/o

genre: headcanons; fluff, general, idol! s/o

word count: 0.8k

warnings: none

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

bangchan

chan is always keen on self-improvement and finds that you help a lot

if he feels he's lacking in the dance department, the likelihood is he'll seek you out

not that he'll ever directly ask for help lmao

but sometimes you can just sense it and take the hint

he appreciates how much of a perfectionist you can be with your art. he's the same, of course

he feels like your brains are more similar than he thought to begin with, and through understanding how you work he recognises how much you focus and try hard to be the best, which is so attractive to him

lee know

is intrigued by your technique

that's how you piqued his interest before you even started dating him

being a professional dancer, he can pick out the superior dancers from each group with ease

you were easy for him to pin-point as the main dancer of your group because of your raw talent

so, he wanted to work and even perform with you

and since then, he has never once looked back

currently, you're his dancer partner, and dare i say the best fan-favourite couple ever. your chemistry when you work together is seriously unmatched

people are always waiting for your next collab

changbin

he literally thinks you're the best dancer in the industry and stands behind that statement

anytime his friends wanna tease him he's like "okay but are you dating the best dancer in the business? that's what i thought"

gets a good rise outta wooyoung tbh and he gets super competitive but we move

he loves bragging about your achievements bruh

he doesn't have time to talk about himself when he's wayyy too busy hyping you up

he's so proud of you like?? he can't help himself as embarrassed as it sounds. you just gotta go with it

he just wuvs you and wants to tell literally everyone he meets about your awesomeness ;-;

hyunjin

similar to lee know, hyunjin would want to work with you

he can't help but be enthralled by your beauty when you're performing

encourages you to do solo performances just so you get the time to showcase what you can do

wants to learn more classical ballroom dances with you because he's a hopeless romantic and is cheesy like that

he's just so in love

will probably write poetry about you and draw a dynamic, abstract painting of you dancing just cos you inspire him so much

idk you get him so mushy it's so cute

probably cries buckets when you do a super emotional contemporary dance, because... you know... its hyunjin

han

i mean it doesn't matter what position you are in as an idol, han jisung is a supportive bf no matter what and is literally your biggest fan

if you're the main rapper? he'll learn all your rap verses off by heart

if you're the lead singer? he'll dramatically sing your own group's songs until you hate it

and you being the main dancer? well, you best believe he's learning all the choreography

especially if you do solo work, my gosh

from the minute your new music video drops he's like "baby, where do you get those hips from??"

he's down bad, basically

felix

mr. heart eyes

he literally... oh my gosh

i can't even-

he literally is obsessed with the way you move like oh my goshhhh i cannot stress this enough

you got him feeling things he's never felt before, ouch

his eyes are always fixed on you during your performances, and yes the cameraman has both caught and exposed him for having his jaw dropped to the floor and his eyes sparkly and wide as he watches you dance

the fans and i other idols get a good chuckle out of his reactions

seungmin

he takes such an interest in how your work is doing

and he loves it when you do the same

he finds you have the same love and passion for dancing as he does with regard to singing

and that common ground is beautiful

it allows the conversation to flow so easily as you bond with your similar interests

the fact that you're both idols helps too, of course

gets so blushy thinking about how stunning you are when you dance. he's like a little boy when he sees you in action

he doesn't know how to react to his soulmate being so effortlessly talented

jeongin

amazed by you

but doesn't easily show it

lowkey wants to learn more from you but is too shy to ask directly, at first

so he'll get you in a dance studio and teach you how to do the iconic 'maknae on top' hips move, just for funsies

and then he'll casually ask you what your fave move is

and from there, he will learn how to improve from you

he admires you so much, sometimes he just has a hard time articulating that to you

so spending time with you and working on dance - something you both love - is how he expresses that

853 notes · View notes

fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 2 months

Text

Good Omens Fic Rec: Communicatio in Sacris

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been one year since my last confession. These are my sins.” There’s a slight pause. “Gosh. Give me a moment. I knew I should have made up a list, this happens every year. Forget my own head next. Ah, yes. Hmm. Now you may want to get comfortable.” Communicatio in sacris: communion in sacred things. Also translated as 'worship in common'.

Length: 10,439 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit /Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: At Home, Human AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by voluptatiscausa

*Minor Spoilers* I can't even begin to describe how good this one is, tbh. This was my second time experiencing this story, and both times, I had to stop and just let some lines sink in because, what the fuck.

This fic will ignite you with desire and tension, but it also holds you close and whispers that you're safe and loved. It's divinity kink set to lethal. It's interesting, an almost a reverse AU, to see Crowley as the priest and Aziraphale as the tempter. Yet, it remains incredibly true to the essence of these characters.

There's so much to praise here. The writing is beautiful, and the poetry in particular, is captivating. There's even a part two to this series that is an alternate version/Aziraphale pov of part one. Honestly, it's required reading. Otherwise, you'll miss out on this line that made me literally put my ipad down for a moment: "And when Aziraphale sinks to his knees and opens his mouth to receive communion, he swears he can hear God chuckling at his ear: Did you think you were above the impulse to worship?" I'm sorry, who gave you the right???

Just read this one at home in one sitting, you need to pay attention to every word here. It's rich, complex, gorgeous, divine. Big for Fleabag and Hozier fans. If you have a complicated relationship with God, well we're all in this boat together and at least we have gorgeous stories like these to soothe those thoughts.

Read it here, fic by voluptatiscausa

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #Communicatio in Sacris #voluptatiscausa #four flames #at home #after dark #human au #reverse au #priest au #religion #short #faves of the blog

56 notes · View notes

byeuijoo · 4 months

Text

what is love? 𐀔 asakura jo

genre : pure fluff ⋆ warnings : absolutely none ⋆ wc : 0,8k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

« what is love? » he asked you quietly, his face bathed in the moonlight passing through your window. jo was currently slumped against your mattress, his ebony hair spread carelessly on your pillow while you were lying next to him, belly against the bed, chin resting against the palm of your hand. a smile took place on your lips at the sound of his question, his soft voice destabilizing the quiet silence that had previously occupied the room.

pretending to think, without your eyes ever leaving his, your index finger pressed against his pale skin, tracing the curve of his jaw to his chin with your fingertip. « love is.. » you began to say, the sound of your voice echoing in his head like the most bewitching of melodies, « love is your voice. »

he didn't seem to understand, looking for the slightest innuendo in your words to find any clue as to the meaning of your sentence. but jo didn't have time to think as you spoke again, « just hearing your voice can give me butterflies in the stomach. » — you wanted to explain things as you felt them, so you continued your confession, bringing your index finger up to trace the outline of his eyes delicately.

« love is your eyes, » you declared, as he watched you with as much adoration as possible, and this simple little thing caused your heart to miss a beat, « the way you look at things is unique, the gleam in your eyes always makes me feel like i'm even more precious than the biggest diamond. »

jo could swear he'd never enjoyed listening to someone talk so much. he loved that little crackle in your low voice, the way words roll off your tongue like poetry. you were like a sweet dream he didn't want to wake up from. it's thanks to the way you talk that he started to take an interest in you — your voice was the sweetest and most captivating among the whole class. he watched you change position : your right hand previously scattered over his face, now resting against his chest. for the left hand, you moved it delicately so that your fingers intertwined with jo's, suddenly stopping his delicate caresses on your cheek.

« love is your hands, » you resumed, pulling his hand to your lips to place a warm kiss against its back, « when they touch or intertwine with mine, a gentle warmth can't help but permeate my whole being. they are reassuring and comforting, like the ultimate cuddle you need during hard times. »

jo didn't know how you made him love you even more than he already did. nor did he know how his heart managed to beat so fast in his chest. much less how you could refrain from commenting on his flushed cheeks.

« and finally, love is your lips. » you continued, in the most sincere voice in the world, bringing your hand up until your fingers lightly brushed his lower lip. your smile was even sweeter, your eyes filled with stars, and you breathed joy, which filled him with happiness. « jo, every time you smile.. oh gosh, i swear the ground caves in on me. i've never felt my heart race so fast. » you explained, and he could hear your smile in your words. you were so pretty, you were the prettiest in his eyes. no one had ever shake him up as much as you — and he wouldn't lose the love that bound you together for anything in the world.

« love is you, asakura jo, » you end up saying, your voice growing weaker, as if you were sharing the most confidential of secrets with him, « your whole being makes me discover a little more every day what love means. »

unlike you, jo wasn't good with words. but instead of talking, he could act, even if it took him all the courage in the world to do so. then, after a moment's thought, the boy sat up, his warm hands caressing your face in the most delicate of ways. it was as if your cheeks were caught between two cotton fields, and in front of you, the most radiant, comforting and warmest of summer suns appeared. his smile filled the light that was missing from your night, shaking your whole being, giving your heart uncontrollable palpitations. you knew jo was the answer to all your questions about love — and this was confirmed once again when he placed the most unforgettable kiss on your lips.

« i love you, » he murmured against your mouth just as your fingers grasped his sweatshirt, « i love you more than words can ever describe. »

and he was right : because no words could describe the love you meant to each other.

⠀

reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

taglist ౨ৎ @wtfhyuck @yuma-is-mine

81 notes · View notes

mikalara-dracula · 1 year

Text

When the Sakamakis were children [IRL photos + hcs]

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor and aren't comfortable with mentions of childhood fears/trauma. This is a fictional work and should not be taken seriously.

Caution: Unfortunately, Tumblr has a history of admins quarreling over completing carbon copy asks due to users sending the same request(s) to multiple admins, thus, resulting in unintentional plagiarism. With this, please DO NOT send the same request to multiple blogs as it can cause unintended plagiarism discord to other blogs across Tumblr. The word “plagiarism” stems from the early 17th-century Latin word, “plagiarius,” meaning “kidnapper.” So please, do not send in the same request to multiple blogs and make admins appear to be “kidnapping” other people’s work when it isn’t their intention. If this is to occur with any of my posts, please contact me so we can work something out.

Made with: @liannelara-dracula

Figured I'd put side-by-side photos for better comparison to real life and the anime.

Shu

Started practicing violin a lot as a kid, but it was honestly a hobby to him. And this is probably when his love for classical music began.

He also started learning piano too. He has a natural talent for both, but violin came easier to him.

Began learning fencing as a child. (I have a post about Shu and Reiji hcs if anyone is interested. Click/tap here to check it out.)

Shu used to be taller than Reiji as a kid, but this changed later on.

Read poetry as a child and Beatrix also forced him to write some of his own so he’d develop the skill since the heir had to know how to do something finesse.

Since he’s the heir, he was expected to attend special balls and gatherings with Reiji by his side.

And here, you can best bet he was introduced to potential suitresses he would have to choose sometime later, but Beatrix thought it didn’t hurt for Shu to be introduced early.

She honestly hoped he’d become friends with one of his suitresses as children so they could grow up together and later be married.

It’s canon that Shu has a fear of clowns.

This fear probably resulted from Ayato and Laito jumping at him out of nowhere when they were kids, and scared him by wearing clown masks.

It’s also canon that he’s afraid of caterpillars.

This fear probably developed in his childhood through Reiji putting one in Shu’s tea once, and he’s been traumatized since due to Reiji’s scheming.

It’s canon that he knows Latin, so he probably started studying it when he was a child. Beatrix figured it’d be better for him to get familiarized with the human world since Karl was well accustomed, so through Shu being the heir, you can imagine Beatrix expected him to be very knowledgeable like Karl.

It’s canon that Shu used to sneak out as much as he could to get away from the castle.

Although, he would sometimes get caught by the servants who would immediately force him to come back and he’d be delivered to his mother for scolding.

But some servants looked the other way and let Shu go out and explore, mostly because they felt bad from how much pressure was on him as the heir.

When he met Edgar, he used to sneak out a lot to go see him.

In the manga, Shu said that he worked harder in his studies so he could finish them early and go have time to see Edgar.

Their friendship was so cute. :))

Had his first kiss at 13 (at least he looked 13) with some nobleman’s daughter since he was at the age of being curious as to what that would feel like.

Was quite close with some of his nannies and servants, at least the ones who let him get away with things his mother wouldn’t allow.

Reiji

Oh my gosh, look at our lil Rei. He was so cute as a kid. (Tbh, they all were.)

Apart from this, unfortunately, Reiji was alone for most of his childhood.

Read a lot as a kid, either for school or personal research.

Has gotten into literal fights with Shu, such as both them tackling each other and battling it out.

It usually took several servants to pry them apart.

They once ended up falling into a mud puddle during their fight and Beatrix was so pissed off that their suits had been soiled. You can bet her scolding was quite brutal and never-ending about this.

Probably started learning chess around this time as well. Lil Rei honestly found it interesting since it involved strategy, something that’s right up his alley.

His fear of ghosts probably developed as a child since he was always lonely, especially through always sleeping in his room alone as a kid and being considered foolish by his mother if he sought comfort.

It’s canon in one of the game routes that Reiji developed a healing cream formula as a child to aid vampires. So we can see how advanced his chemistry skills were even as a child.

Because there was a lot of pressure on him as a child by his mother he felt the need to perfect things so he was always practicing all his manners, tea pouring, dancing, and fencing skills.

He usually asks his servants to assist him and correct him if needed.

This is also why he is so good at dancing when it comes to the waltz.

It doesn’t surprise me if he had a maid/servant who used to help him practice.

At balls and events that he attended with Shu, he always tried to make a better impression than his brother, mostly because he just wanted to be acknowledged.

It’s canon that Reiji used to spy on Shu in hopes of catching him doing something un-heir-like so he could report it to his mom and get Shu scolded so he could be viewed as the more “mature” child.

He used to have tea time with his mother because she’d want to know what was going on with Shu.

Reiji at first thought it was because she wanted to spend time with him but he later learned that these tea times were only to know what Shu was up to and if he was misbehaving or hiding anything.

Still, Reiji did what he was asked because he figured he could possibly get the chance to tell his mother some news about his discoveries or something interesting.

However, it was always short-lived because she used to change subjects and always focus on Shu.

This is also why Reiji prefers to be alone because he could never have one conversation with her, without her not mentioning his older brother.

All our lil Rei wanted was a friend who would listen to him 😭.

Laito

It’s canon that Laito once stuck candy wrappers into Shu’s pocket to not get the blame for eating them. Shu’s still pissed at Laito for this since he ended up getting the blame along with getting scolded by Reiji.

Definitely developed his fear of bugs as a kid.

Ayato used to chase Laito around the courtyard with a bug in his hand and would try to get it on him.

He used to run around the mansion shirtless.

But also used to run around naked in the castle with his brothers.

Always took baths with his two little brothers, and he and Ayato always use to tease Kanato by pouring cold water on him or by stealing his bath toy.

This usually resulted in Kanato crying.

But sometimes they were nice to him and washed his hair since they felt bad. So they used to take turns washing each other’s hair.

Laito and Ayato always bribe Kanato with candy so they dare him to touch Reiji’s shoulder while he’s reading without being noticed or to mess with the cooks in the kitchen.

This way they can get a laugh out of it.

Laito used to have the servants read him bedtime stories before going to bed every night.

Kanato

Aww, isn’t he cute.

Let’s just pretend the bby in the photo on the right is Teddy lol.

It’s honestly funny how both are positioned in the same way.

Kanato wasn’t entirely alone during his childhood.

He mostly spent his time with Ayato and Laito, but sometimes he preferred to be alone.

Used to have pillow/stuffed animal fights in his room with Ayato and Laito. And they would usually end with pillows/stuffed animals ripping, causing a big cloud of fluff to explode about them.

Used to steal sweets from the castle's kitchen and was an expert at hiding it.

Little Kanato would usually sneak out of his room after everyone had been put to sleep and would sneak into the kitchen to grab a bite of whatever sweets the castle had prepared for tomorrow.

He once colored on the castle walls because he was so bored. Cordelia was so mad, but Karl honestly didn’t care since he claimed his son was expressing himself. Until this day, that wall remains with that design.

It’s canon that Kanato used to sing “Scarborough Fair” to Cordelia when he was a kid. He honestly had a natural talent for singing and finds it nice to sing on his own every so often as seen in the anime.

His brothers used to tease him about his height and he’d get sad and would claim that one day he’d be taller.

Sometimes Kanato would have nightmares as a kid. So he’d end up going to either Laito or Ayato’s room and crawl into their beds for comfort. Aww :’))

He used to be afraid of lighting as a kid.

He had a childhood crush once and Laito and Ayato teased him endlessly about it.

Used to finger paint with Laito and Ayato and they used to tease him by taking their fingers and dabbing their fingers on his nose to get paint on it. It would always make him upset.

Our poor little baby.

Ayato

Ayato usually spent his time with Kanato and Laito, but mostly Laito since sometimes Kanato wanted to be on his own.

Ayato once spent a lot of time with Kanato and Laito building this little motor that they could drive around.

Ayato decided to test it once inside the castle with Kanato and Laito.

And it actually worked! Ayato was having a lot of fun test-driving it around, and Kanato and Laito cheering him on and begging to have a turn.

But this was until Cordelia stopped Ayato and told him to go to his room for acting foolish.

In the end, their little motor ended up disappearing, and they later discovered that Cordelia had it burned.

It’s canon that Ayato took violin lessons as a kid, but this didn’t last long until Cordelia ended up breaking Ayato’s violin during her freakouts, to which his lessons ended. And he was honestly happy to get out of them.

Ayato always used to play monkey in the middle with Laito and Kanato. And you can best bet that Kanato was the monkey in the middle.

Kanato would always complain that he could never catch the ball and would throw tantrums about this.

Tbh, this hasn’t changed since the triplets play it like this until now lmao. xDD

Used to jump off the manor’s couches with Kanato and Laito with a cape and pretended he could fly.

Apparently, it’s canon that Ayato is afraid of bees. So with this, he probably developed this trauma because he got stung once when he was a kid and never got over it.

He used to grab little mice and release them into the kitchen because all the female cooks were afraid of them.

He used to get a kick out of it every time the cooks would start freaking out and throwing pots and pans and chasing them out with a broom.

He’s even done this to his aunt Beatrix but not his mom, he was too afraid. He knew she’d instantly catch on to it being him and suffer tremendous punishment for it.

Subaru

He was alone a lot of the time too.

As we know, Christa gave Subaru that silver knife he always carries around.

Whenever he was bored as a kid, he’d sometimes used it to carve or engrave things, or even weave bracelets.

He had a childhood crush! It was a girl (a child vampire like him) from a noble family that would sometimes come to court.

She was around his age and was pretty social. She noticed him at one of the gatherings and began hanging out with him since she found the gatherings boring.

So, they both would go outside since Subaru hates crowds himself. And from there, they developed a pretty cute and innocent friendship.

She actually got our little bby car to lighten up and would tag him out of nowhere so he could chase her around the courtyard.

And it was through this that Subaru developed a crush on her.

Sooner than later, he even went as far as carving his and her initials into a tree in the courtyard.

Their friendship lasted a good while throughout the years and through having such a connection, Subaru secretly swore that he’d marry her when they were of age.

But this all changed when the girl was forced to marry another suitor that was presented to her.

This left him pretty disappointed, but he figured it would end this way because he always thought it was too good to be true since he was raised to think he was “filthy.”

Used to engage in a bit of pottery making and he gave some of his works to his mom, which she gladly appreciated when she wasn’t having a mental breakdown.

Subaru keeps his little pottery works until now stashed somewhere hidden in his room so his brothers won’t find them.

And he can’t bring himself to throw them away despite part of him wanting to since he finds them foolish now. Whatever the case, he figures as long as his brothers don’t see nor find them, he’ll keep them.

Played tag with the triplets sometimes.

Would sometimes hang out with Shu, but it was rare.

They’d sometimes go on walks together in the courtyard or even carve things together, like a piece of wood from a nearby tree.

Shu once tried to teach Subaru violin, but it was a disaster.

Unfortunately, it was so bad that it was overheard by the entire castle ground and it resulted in a lot of people complaining. So with that, he never tried it again.

Despite this though, he still considered Shu his favorite brother since Shu never bothered him in an annoying way and was the only one who made an attempt to hang out with him every so often.

It’s canon that Subaru likes Kanato’s singing. Since Kanato used to sing to Cordelia when he was a child, Subaru probably overheard Kanato sing to Cordelia in the courtyard sometimes since he spent a lot of time there himself, and grew an admiration from there on out.

Subaru would sometimes use his knife to cut roses and bring them to his mom when she was feeling okay. It always brought a smile to her face.

555 notes · View notes