Niniyaaa



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  1. Public Bookmark 17

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    “Fuck,” Finn says, dropping his head against the pillows. His lisp gets more pronounced when he's turned on, and it drives Peter completely crazy, the way Finn starts slurring his words.

    Or, Peter doesn't want to ever leave Finn's bed.

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    30 May 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    "My old man, Arlan… he used to say that the worst demons get bigger in the dark. You're in the dark, Aerion. I can see it. You don't have to pay me. You don't have to owe me anything. I can just… be there. When you eat. Or when you feel like you can't."

    Dunk held out a hand, palm up. Rough, calloused, honest.

    "I can just sit with you. I’m good at sitting. I’m big enough to block the door if you try to run to the bathroom."


    In which a Flea Bottom scholarship kid is drawn like a (mam)moth to the Brightflame. And becomes the honorary manny-driver-sugar baby of the Targfam.

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    23 Apr 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Good shit

  3. Public Bookmark 10

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    Aerion’s beast is weaning rags, hanging off of his powerful frame in scraps. His hair was long to his shoulders, obscuring his dirty face. But from what Aerion can see, his jaw is strong, even through the bushy beard.
    This one, Aerion decides at once. I shall have this one.
    And there was no way to change his mind, once it’s set on something.

    Or an AU of Aerion's time in Lys where The Dragon Prince is known for buying tall and big slaves as if in search of someone specific, until a new slave ships docks and a new slave looks weirdly familiar

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    29 Mar 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    "Sixty-forty," Aerion gasped, his hands braced on Dunk's shoulders for leverage. "You get the bigger cut because you're mine. In the ring, in here, mine." He ground down hard, chasing his own pleasure.

    Dunk's head fell back against the chair, the whiskey nearly empty now, its haze blurring the edges of his restraint. "Yes—fuck, yes, Aerion," he rasped, hips jerking up to meet each descent. “Anything… anything you want.”

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    17 Feb 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “If I break my oath, even for you—” Dunk’s voice cracked. He thought of Ser Arlan’s face. Of Egg’s trust. Of everything he’d built himself to be. “What would that make me?”

    “Mine.” Aerion’s fingers slid to the nape of Dunk’s neck, tangling in his hair. “It would make you mine.”

    There are two kinds of distance between a common hedge knight and a Targaryen prince: the height that separates them, and the morality that should.

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    17 Feb 2026